by Al Lacy
She whirled about and threw herself facedown on the bed, sobbing into the pillows in an attempt to rid her heart of the unending ache inside.
The next morning, Jenny went next door and told the Bowdens she was taking a little trip in regard to her father’s death, and asked them to keep an eye on the house. As she had stated to the Hendersons, she told the Bowdens she wasn’t sure exactly how long she would be gone, but she was estimating it would be a week or a bit longer.
At seven o’clock that evening, Jenny boarded the southbound train that would take her to Baltimore, through Washington, D.C., and on to Richmond.
While the train rolled southward in the night, Jenny was alone on the seat. She watched the lights in the windows of farmhouses for a while, then put her mind back on the purpose for her trip. She slipped her hand into the purse and gripped the .38 revolver. She gritted her teeth. I’ll find you, Dan Tyler, wherever you are. You will pay for what you did. You put my papa in his grave, and by so doing, you put my mama in her grave. I am going to put you in your grave!
When the train stopped in Baltimore, Jenny watched passengers get off and go into the arms of loved ones. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she faced the realization that never again would she ever be in the arms of her father and mother.
Her mind went back to the night in April 1861 before her father left home to go into the Civil War the next morning …
Myrna Linden was helping her husband pack his bags in their bedroom, while fifteen-year-old Jenny was doing the dishes and cleaning up the kitchen.
When Jenny finished her work in the kitchen, she walked down the hall toward the bedroom and heard her parents talking about the War and how it was tearing families apart. When Jenny appeared at the door, her father was holding her weeping mother in his arms. William Linden set loving eyes on his daughter and opened an arm for her.
Jenny hurried to him and let him encircle her in the arm. Tears were in her own eyes. She put an arm around him. “Oh, Papa, please come back to us. Please don’t get killed in that awful war!”
William squeezed his daughter tight. “Honey, I’ll come home to you and your mama when the War is over.”
Jenny sniffed and blinked at her tears. “Promise?”
William Linden wanted to encourage his daughter. “I promise, sweetheart.” He then looked into her tear-dimmed eyes. “Now, if this war goes on for a few years, you’re not going to get married while I’m gone, are you?”
Jenny sniffed and blinked at her tears again. She thought of Nate Conrad. Nate had left for Washington, D.C., two days earlier to be inducted into the Union army. He would also be gone until the War was over. She forced a smile. “No, Papa. When I get married, I want you at my wedding.”
William leaned down and kissed her wet cheek. “I want you to have a church wedding, and I’m going to be there to walk you down the aisle.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
The train was pulling out of the Baltimore station when Jenny’s thoughts came back to the present. She wiped at her tears and whispered, “And I know you meant that promise, Papa, but that murderous Dan Tyler took your life. He made it so you couldn’t keep your promise.”
Vengeance burned within her as she told herself she would figure out how to kill Tyler once she located him. Once again, her hand slipped inside the purse and gripped the revolver. I’m not an expert with a gun, Dan Tyler, but you can bank on it. I’ll come up with a way to be close enough when I pull the trigger. I won’t miss.
Soon the train was once again rolling through the countryside. While Jenny watched the twinkling stars in the sky and the winking lights in the farmhouses, her thoughts went to Nate Conrad, and how he had betrayed her.
She wondered if she would ever get married.
18
THE TRAIN PULLED INTO THE RICHMOND DEPOT at nine-thirty the next morning. With the satchel in one hand and the purse in the other, Jenny Linden walked out to the street and hired a buggy to take her to the capitol building.
The woman at the receptionist’s desk directed her to the offices that had been occupied by officials of the Confederate army during the War. She found a small number of men there, doing paperwork in regard to the War. One of the men directed her to the Confederate military records office, which was on the second floor.
Topping the stairs, Jenny moved past three other government offices, then spotted the sign that read: Military Records.
The door was open. Jenny stepped in and approached the counter. A handsome young man rose from his desk, smiled, and moved up to the counter. “Good morning, ma’am. May I help you?”
Jenny noted that the nameplate on his desk identified him as Eldon Wheeler. She smiled in return. “I believe so, Mr. Wheeler. I’m from Pennsylvania. My father died in the Andersonville Prison Camp in Georgia during the latter part of the Civil War. Of course, I didn’t know about his death until some time after the War was over, you understand.”
“I understand.”
“Several weeks after the War ended, the Union soldiers who had been in Confederate prison camps came home. I was told by a Union officer who had been with my father at Andersonville that he had died there shortly before the War ended. This officer told me that one of the camp guards, a Sergeant Dan Tyler, was the last man to see Papa alive. I desperately need to locate Dan Tyler and talk to him.”
Wheeler nodded. “Certainly, ma’am.” He now had a pencil in hand, and a pad of paper. “What is your name, ma’am?”
Jenny’s heart lurched. She dare not leave a trail that could lead the authorities back to her when they found Dan Tyler dead. The first name that came to mind was her mother’s maiden name. “My name is Jenny Blair, sir. B-L-A-I-R.”
Eldon Wheeler scratched the name on the pad. “And the Confederate guard’s name is Dan Tyler. He was a sergeant, you say?”
“Yes.”
“Would you happen to know where Sergeant Tyler is from? What state, I mean.”
“No, sir.”
When Wheeler had written down this information, he said, “I’ll put a clerk on it right away, ma’am. It could take some time, like maybe a couple of hours for the clerk to find Tyler’s file.”
“That will be fine. Is there somewhere I can wait?”
“Yes,” said Wheeler, heading for the small gate at the end of the counter. “There’s a small room a couple of doors down.”
Wheeler led Jenny down the hall to the room, opened the door, and motioned for her to step in ahead of him. The only light was from the hall, but Jenny could see the overstuffed chair, a small table beside it, and three wooden chairs nearby. A ticking clock hung on the wall.
Wheeler quickly lit two lanterns. “There you are, Miss Blair. I assume it is Miss Blair. I noticed you’re not wearing a wedding ring.”
Jenny smiled thinly. “Yes, it is Miss Blair.”
“As you can see, there are some magazines on the table here by the chair. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back as soon as the clerk brings me Sergeant Tyler’s file.”
“Thank you, Mr. Wheeler. I very much appreciate your help.”
Wheeler stopped at the door. “Would you like this open or closed?”
“Close it, please.”
He nodded and closed the door. She could hear his rapid footsteps fading away.
Jenny looked at the spot where she last saw him and her mouth turned down. “You just see that they find the file, mister. I want Dan Tyler dead!”
She set her purse and satchel on top of the magazines, eyed the chair, then shook her head. She paced the floor for a few minutes, wringing her hands, then finally eased into the chair. Laying her head back, she closed her eyes and tried to think of just how she would shoot Dan Tyler and get away with it.
After a few minutes, she raised her head. “No, Jenny, there’s no use trying to plan it, now. You’ll have to figure it out once you find him and know the circumstances. But when I do find him, he’ll wish he’d never laid eyes on Captain W
illiam Linden!”
Suddenly the small room seemed to be closing in on her. She jumped from the chair and opened the door. “There. That’s better.”
She returned to the chair, and sat down with a sigh. Time seemed to drag. Every time Jenny heard footsteps in the hall, she looked up expectantly only to be disappointed. The person always passed on by.
Periodically, she glanced at the clock. When two hours had passed, she hissed, “Come on, Wheeler. Come on.”
Finally, after almost three hours, the footsteps she heard in the hall belonged to Eldon Wheeler. He came through the door, carrying a file folder, shaking his head. “Sorry, Miss Blair. Since we didn’t know what state Dan Tyler is from, it took longer than I thought for the clerk to find his file.”
“But you have it there, right?”
Wheeler pulled up one of the wooden chairs. “Sure do. I haven’t looked at it, yet.” He sat down and opened the file.
She waited patiently while his eyes ran over the first page. He flipped to the second page, read it over, then looked at Jenny. “Mr. Tyler is from Chattanooga, Tennessee, and he has a good record as a Confederate soldier. Served in the cavalry for most of the War, then was transferred to Andersonville to be a guard.”
“Chattanooga,” Jenny said, rubbing her temples. “That’s in southeastern Tennessee, isn’t it?”
“Yes, ma’am. Right on the Tennessee-Georgia border.”
Jenny rose to her feet and picked up her purse and satchel. “Thank you, Mr. Wheeler. You’ve been a real help.”
Wheeler set the wooden chair back where it had been. “You’re welcome, Miss Blair. I’m glad we were able to find the file, even though it took so long.”
Jenny set the satchel down and extended her right hand. “Please tell the clerk I appreciate his effort, too.”
“Sure will,” he said, gently shaking her hand. “And if we can be of any further help, please let us know.”
Jenny nodded her head and hurried out the door. She hired another buggy outside, and her heart was racing while the buggy conveyed her to the railroad station.
She purchased a ticket on a train to Raleigh, North Carolina, where she would take another train to Chattanooga.
Two days later, Jenny’s train arrived in Chattanooga at ten o’clock in the morning. Bone weary from the long days and nearly sleepless nights since leaving Harrisburg, she picked up her purse and satchel and followed the other passengers from the coach.
When she walked out of the terminal onto the street, it hit her that she was in the very city where Dan Tyler lived. She patted her purse, feeling the lump made by the revolver inside. The revenge she sought was almost in her grasp. This thought gave her a fresh boost of energy, and the weariness she had felt was gone.
She made her way to the line of buggies and approached the first. The youthful driver was giving his horse a drink from a bucket as she drew up. He smiled. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be finished in a second or two. Where can I take you?”
The horse was slurping the last of the water in the bottom of the bucket.
“I’m here to look up an old friend of the family. I don’t know his address, but he lives here in Chattanooga. The conductor on my train said I needed to go to the Bradley County Courthouse—they would help me locate him.”
“All right,” said the young man, tossing the bucket on the floor of the buggy, next to the driver’s seat. “County courthouse it is.”
He helped Jenny into the backseat of the buggy, climbed up onto the driver’s seat, and put the horse in motion. “Where you from, ma’am?”
“Pennsylvania.”
He nodded as they passed a heavily loaded wagon, pulled by two horses. “Well, welcome to the Deep South.”
Jenny wanted to slap the cap off his head and pull his hair out. She restrained herself. “Thank you.”
As the buggy made its way toward downtown Chattanooga, Jenny looked around. It was a beautiful morning. She noted the plentiful pink and white dogwood trees along both sides of the street. Their pleasant scent rode the gentle breeze that brushed her face. She breathed in the delightful aroma, smiling and allowing herself to enjoy it.
The pleasure of the aroma lasted only a few minutes, then the reality of her quest to find Dan Tyler set in. Once again, her young face put on its mask of determination. She was there to kill the man who had murdered her father and subsequently caused her mother’s death.
Soon, Jenny was out of the buggy and making her way inside the stately courthouse. She drew up to the reception desk. A middle-aged woman smiled at her. “May I help you, young lady?”
Jenny explained that she was trying to find an old family friend who lived somewhere in Chattanooga and needed help in locating him. The receptionist gave her directions to the proper office, and a few minutes later, she was standing before the desk of a matronly looking woman in her late fifties. “Can I help you, dear?”
“I sure hope so. I’m from up north, and I’m trying to locate a man named Dan Tyler. He was a sergeant in the Confederate army during the Civil War. I was told by the military records people in Richmond that he lives here in Chattanooga.”
The woman smiled. “Well, you’ve come to the right person. I know Dan.”
Jenny’s pulse quickened. “You do?”
“Mm-hmm. Actually, I knew the whole family. They didn’t live here in Chattanooga, however. They had a cattle ranch some twelve miles west of here.”
Jenny’s features pinched. “Had a cattle ranch? You mean they’re not there anymore?”
“Correct. The ranch no longer belongs to the Tyler family. Dan’s parents both died several years ago. He was an only child. While Dan was away in the War, he had renters living on the ranch to take care of the place and the stock. When he came home in April, after the War was over, he sold the place to a family named Freeman.”
The weight of the woman’s words was pressing like a steel rod against her spine. “Do … do you know where Dan is now?”
“Sorry, I sure don’t. But the new owners probably know. I suggest you go to the ranch and ask the Freemans.”
This gave Jenny a thread of hope. “Can you tell me how to find the ranch?”
“I’ll do better than that. I’ll draw you a map. It’s really an easy place to find. You can’t miss it.”
Jenny left the courthouse with the map in her dress pocket and hired a buggy to take her to the ranch. She felt relief when she showed the driver the map, and he told her he knew the area well. He had been past the ranch many times.
In just over half an hour, the driver turned the buggy off the road onto a tree-lined drive, and within seconds, Jenny got her first glimpse of the house Dan Tyler once called home. It was a large two-story white frame house that stood in a grove of trees, surrounded by an array of brightly colored flower gardens. A closer look showed her that the house could use a fresh coat of paint, but the magnificent flowers led her eyes away from that fact.
As the buggy drew nearer to the house, Jenny saw a middle-aged couple sitting on the front porch. They were watching the buggy, and when it drew close, they both stood up and walked down the porch steps.
The driver pulled rein. “Hello, folks. I have a lady here who would like to talk to you.”
The couple smiled at Jenny.
“I’m Ben Freeman,” said the man. “This is my wife, Florence. We haven’t met before, have we?”
Jenny smiled. “No sir. My name is Jenny Blair. I’m from Pennsylvania.”
She gave her story about Dan Tyler being the last man to see her father alive at Andersonville Prison Camp, then explained what she was told at the courthouse in Chattanooga, and said she desperately needed to find Dan Tyler. She needed to ask him some questions about what her father might have talked about before he died.
Ben scratched his head. “Well, Miss Blair, when Dan sold us the ranch, he told us he was going out west to meet up with two of his army pals and start a new life.”
“Do you know where out west?”
“No. Dan didn’t tell us.”
Jenny’s heart sank. “Would there be anyone around here he might have told?”
“Don’t have any idea. Guess all you can do is ask some of the neighboring ranchers and farmers. Dan might have told some of them exactly where he was going.”
Jenny spent the rest of the day having the buggy driver take her to the surrounding ranchers and farmers. None of them had any idea where Dan Tyler might have gone.
She had the driver take her back to Chattanooga, telling him she needed to stay in a hotel for the night. She explained that she would need one that was not too expensive. He recommended the Ridgeside Hotel, which was clean, but quite reasonable. It was also relatively close to the railroad station.
At the hotel, Jenny was directed to a small, but sparkling clean, comfortable room. When she laid her purse and satchel on the bed, her first inclination was to lie down and drown in its softness. But practicality dictated that she have a substantial meal. She hadn’t eaten since having a light breakfast in the dining car a couple of hours before the train arrived in Chattanooga.
She removed her hat, shook the road dust from it, and laid it on the bed. Then she moved to the dresser and looked at herself in the mirror.
Turning back to the bed, she opened the satchel and took out her comb and brush, as well as her night garments and a fresh dress for tomorrow. Returning to the dresser with comb and brush in hand, she released her hair from its pins, letting it fall to her shoulders. She poured water from the pitcher into the washbasin and dipped in a cloth. She passed it over her dusty face, then dried it with a towel. Feeling somewhat refreshed, she drew the brush through her thick blond hair several times, then secured it at the nape of her neck with the pins.
She patted an errant strand into place, put the hat back on, then shook the creases from the dress she had been wearing since she left home. Moving back to the bed, she picked up her purse and opened it. She touched the revolver as if it were some prized possession, then took out the dwindling wad of currency, counted it, and put it back. With purse in hand, she left the room.