Summer Rose

by Caroline Hartman

  A waiter brought him a glass of bourbon neat on a silver tray. He took it and saluted her. “I noticed my father’s horse in your stable. Is he here?”

  “He was.” She turned and surveyed the room. Her wide mouth held the hint of a smile. “He may have left.” She shrugged coyly. “Does it matter?”

  She looked up; his attention followed. “He may be upstairs. A number of pleasures await a man up there.” The eight-sided room soared three stories with circling balustrades, open hallways, and dozens of closed doors. Liza was probably behind one of those doors. Finding the girl would not be easy, and with a sudden sickness in his gut, he knew it would not be tonight.

  He set his glass down on a little side table and said, “Excuse me, Mrs. Mason I must speak with Hal.”

  Anger flashed in her silver eyes. She was not used to being dismissed.

  He found Hal near the bar. John Hay nodded to him then resumed his conversation with a Vermont businessman. Daniel looked about the room. He knew at least half the faces, the princes of the city. To Hal Daniel whispered, “I’m leaving. If I stay, I’ll either get drunk or smack someone or both. Coming with me?”

  Hal slowly shook his head. “I thought I’d try my luck at roulette, and the lady invited me for a private party later.”

  For a moment Daniel was speechless. “How in the hell did you managed that? You’ve only been here forty-five minutes.”

  Hal shrugged, arching his shaggy eyebrows. “Danny boy, my reputation or the size of my …” he paused and then smiled, “bank account must have preceded me. And I brought gold.”

  “Christ Hal. I thought you quit the whores?” whispered Daniel as he grabbed another shot of bourbon from a passing waiter. He drank it in one swallow.

  “Don’t go getting righteous on me, Danny. My sweet little wife has been sick every evening since we’ve been married. I’m not blaming Fanny, but I’m no monk. He took another swallow of his drink. “It is what it is … but then I’m not married to Summer Rose.” Hal knocked back all of his drink.

  Daniel turned and walked out of the room. He wanted to choke Hal. He was in the stable before he could take a deep breath.. While the stable boy saddled Chester, he walked over to Commodore. He ran his hand down the white forelock, fed him a sugar cube from his pocket. His anger toward Hal dissipated. He remembered his own reaction to Pearl Mason. Lust had grabbed hold of him until he saw the diamond bracelet. Who was he to judge?

  The boy brought Chester over. He tipped him, then mounted and made his way through the city to his wife.

  Sergeant Roth took Chester’s bridle and nodded toward the stairs. He whispered, “She’s been there since you left, Sir.”

  Summer was waiting for him, wrapped up in two shawls, with her dogs curled beside her. When he walked up to her, she stood, folded her arms around him, and kissed him about as passionately as one body could kiss another body. He swung her into his arms cradling her. “I want you, a bath, and a drink, and I’m not sure in what order. Let me shed these clothes—get the stink of that place off me—and I’ll tell you about my evening. You must be cold.” He looked at Nip and Tuck. “Come on boys, I know you’ll want to hear this too.”

  They lay naked on the high bed. Hal, liquid and in a stupor, stretched and grinned. Beside him, Pearl smiled as well. She’d made all the right moves and had earned her hefty charge.

  He touched her face. “You’re very beautiful.”

  He noticed her peeking sideways at him. He knew women well enough to know Pearl had been surprised. She rolled over and leaned on her elbows, her eyes drifting appreciatively over his chest and lower. He felt his interest return.

  She noticed, too. “I can tell you enjoy sex. Do you have a favorite … type?”

  Hal gave her a lazy smile then sat so he could take a slow drink of brandy. “I don’t have a type, so to speak.” He weighted one of her breasts in his hand. “Gorgeous, sensuous brunettes who know how to move and please a man do just fine.” His eyes surveyed her body, and he shrugged, knowing she wanted more of an answer. “Occasionally I appreciate a little diversity.”

  “Men? Boys?”

  He laughed, spluttering a little of his Remy Martin. When he recovered, he dipped his finger in the brandy and outlined her lips. “Not my proclivity exactly. I like women, girls, blondes, brunettes, redheads, young gorgeous girls.”

  “A variety?” Her smile was wide. “I’m available, of course, but I can provide whatever you want. If I don’t have it, I can find it for you.”

  “Expensive?”

  “Depends.” She slid on top of him and straddled his thighs, still fondling him.

  “Tempt me.”

  “I have a little blond angel. Very young. Very delicious. Would you like a little rosebud?”

  He flashed his eyes a little wider, but he didn’t say anything. He grabbed her hips, lifted her and lowered her body onto his. “Time’s a-flying, Miss Pearl. Less talk. I’d rather not think.”

  Daniel spent the night in his wife’s arms. Silver moonlight, bright as sunlight, streamed through the curtains. Her skin melded into his, warm and silken; he couldn’t touch her enough. Even now, her body still soft from their lovemaking and pressed along the length of him, he wanted her again. It amazed him. The honeymoon was over, and yet every time he touched her, brushed against her, he wanted her. He pressed his lips into the crook of her neck and shoulder, drinking in her scent as he fell asleep.

  In the morning, everyone in the house knew Hal hadn’t come home. Fanny came downstairs in her robe with swollen eyes, disheveled hair, and a sodden handkerchief. She checked all four levels of the house, and every time a horse rattled down the street, she ran to the window.

  The big clock in the hall had just chimed nine when a note from Jack arrived. When Fanny saw it, the anxiety on her face melted like hot candle wax203

  Happy at last, she dropped the note in the fireplace and trudged back up the stairs. “I need to sleep. I was so worried I don’t think I slept a wink.”

  A lump of guilt settled in Daniel’s stomach. He hated the lies, the games. He slipped his arm around Summer Rose’s waist. “Would you like to spend the day with me?”

  “Of course.”

  “Come upstairs and dress in your new culottes. I want you close to me. All day.”

  “Jack will fuss.”

  “I outrank him.”

  CHAPTER 30

  NOT AS THEY SEEM

  “She needs to get out of the house,” he explained. “She’ll be safe here.”

  Jack fluttered his hand. “Sit by the stove. Just stay out of trouble, Summer. I know you don’t look for it, but trouble finds you.”

  She surveyed the room. It was basic, its raw wood walls and floor housing just three desks, three chairs, and a potbellied stove. She’d brought an extra saddle blanket, and now doubled it, using it as a cushion as she leaned against the wall near the stove. Snow had drifted, filling the lower corners of the windowpane. Through it, she could see downhill, toward the road.

  After removing her black leather gloves, she opened her haversack and pulled out Les Miserable. She had just about finished it. Daniel brought over another saddle blanket to cover her legs. She looked up to thank him, and from the corner of her eye she noticed Jack’s scowl. She wanted to stick her tongue out at him, but didn’t.

  Daniel and Jack conferred over ledgers and stacks of paper. She stayed in her nest until lunchtime, when Daniel unpacked Becca’s ham and cheese sandwiches and pulled Hal’s chair up to his desk. A trooper brought around a fresh pot of coffee.

  Around two, she heard whistling and saw Hal hitch Dulcey beside Chester in the long lean-to. He sauntered, still whistling, into the room. A gust of icy wind blasted up a corner of her blanket and she shivered. As Hal closed the door, he spotted her and the whistling stopped. He appeared about as happy as Jack to see her. She smiled and pointed to the book.

  “Just pretend I’m not here.”

  He dragged his chair to the other side of Da
niel’s desk and spent a good bit of time sketching in pencil, using a ruler. The two of them talked and pointed. Jack leaned into the conversation; she sat still, her nose buried in Dickens now that she finished Les Miserable, trying not to listen. But words snuck through. She heard gold and eight o’clock and Liza. After that, she couldn’t help straining to listen. Then she heard her name, and Daniel let out an emphatic “No!”

  Her brother said, “She’d be good with the girl, Daniel.”

  Jack motioned for her to come to Daniel’s desk.

  “We may have found Liza Darling. Hal, um, made arrangements to buy her for a few hours. You know what I mean, don’t you?”

  She nodded.

  “Eight o’clock tonight. He’s the first scheduled for her. Hal will go into the house and plans to pay two hundred in gold for two hours with the child. Hal’s funding this transaction.” He cleared his throat. “When the opportunity is right, he’ll either walk out the door with her or signal us with a gunshot. Daniel and I, and our soldiers, if necessary, will be prepared to go in and get her. One of us will carry the child outside to you. I think it is best to give her to a woman. You’ll bring her back here, accompanied by two troopers, where Ray will meet you and examine the girl. We’ll need to make several arrests.”

  He took a deep breath. “This operation is pure army. Liza is the daughter of an army sergeant, and I’m keeping the Pinkerton men out of it. The President wants it that way. I’m hoping she can see her parents tonight.”

  “Do you want a carriage or a horse?” asked Hal.

  “She’ll ride Chester,” said Daniel, acquiescing to the plan. “He’s fast, big, and sure-footed.” His eyes riveted onto hers. “If you don’t think you’re able to do this, tell us now.”

  She shook her head. “I can do it. I agree. I think she’d be better with a woman, too.”

  Two sketches of the interior of a house lay on the table, and she picked them up, studying them closely. One was marked First Floor and the other, Second Floor. The drawings were detailed, showing entrances, staircases, beds, dressers, closets, bathrooms, windows, doorways, fireplaces, all done with meticulous care in Hal’s perfect printing. The drawings were good. He must have some of Amelia’s talent.

  “This looks quite elegant.”

  Hal leaned forward, nodding. “It is. Oriental rugs, silk draperies, very much like an upper class home. I’m trying to figure out where a secret room might be.”

  Her eyes met Daniel’s, and she knew in that instant that Hal had been nowhere near a bear baiting pit last night.

  She smoothed her face and slid the papers back onto the desk. “Daniel, would you send a trooper for my long cloak? Is that possible? And Hal, consider wearing your great coat tonight. The cape is detachable. You could wrap the child in it.”

  Daniel swallowed hard and nodded. “I’ll send Joe Roth. Is there anything else you’d like?”

  “Yes. Please tell him to ask Becca for a pair of my socks.”

  He slipped an arm around her. “Right now, I’d like to ride with you over to Hammer Road, where the house is located. It’s not far. I want you to see the lay of the land in the daylight.”

  He sent the sergeant on his mission and borrowed two horses from the soldiers. “We won’t be close enough for anyone to recognize me, but someone might recognize big old Chester.”

  Her voice came out cold. “He was with that woman last night, wasn’t he? The one selling the child? He wasn’t hunting down a bear pit or whatever. Did you know where he was this morning when Jack sent that note?”

  A blast of fine snow made its way up his sleeves and sent shivers down his spine. He didn’t answer her until they crossed a large, snow-swept field, and came to a fence beside Pennsylvania Avenue, which, despite the blowing snow, was busy with traffic

  “I knew last night.”

  Her face paled. “Oh, Daniel, I’m not sophisticated enough for all this intrigue. Would you do that? Would you sleep with a whore? Would you lie to me so blatantly, or have your friends deceive me?”

  He removed his gloves and reached across the small space, touching her face. His thumb stroked her cheek. “I’ve been asking myself the same questions all day. I promised you I would never lie to you. The truth is, I don’t know. I don’t think I would or could.” He laughed lightly and shook his head. “I couldn’t stand that place last night.”

  She didn’t smile as he dismounted and handed her his reins. The drifted snow was nearly to his knees. He placed his big hand on her boot. “This business is complicated. A little girl’s life is at stake. I felt physically sick when Hal told me she was scheduled for two patrons tonight. They drug the child. What in the hell do they do with her for two hours? Christ, it makes me sick. She’s Jill’s age.”

  Despite the cold, her cheeks and neck burned, and she felt as if she couldn’t breathe. She had wondered much the same thing—what did they do with the child—but he just didn’t understand. The snow swirled around them.

  “It won’t happen, Rosie. Never.” He lifted the top rail of the fence, set it aside, and turned to lead her horse across the fence row. “But …” He frowned. “If it did, would you want me to tell you?”

  “If it did? You can stand there and say, ‘It won’t happen’, then ask, ‘If it did’?” She stood in the stirrups and dove headfirst at him, knocking him over into the deep snow. His hat flew off and he landed hard on his back, knocking the wind out of him as her teeth hit his brow. Blood trickled from her lip. She didn’t seem to notice. She sat on his chest, her small-gloved fists pounded him, flying so fast he couldn’t catch them. She stopped for a second, smeared the back of one hand on her cheek. He caught her hands.

  Tears mingled with the blood. “Would I mind? Are you crazy? You are damned right I’d mind.” A shadow fell over them.

  “Colonel Charteris?” asked John Hay, his walrus moustache immediately identifying him. “Do you need some help?”

  Still holding her wrists, Daniel sat up. Wet snow slid down the back of his neck and blood blinded his one eye. With his good eye, he looked at his wife. Her hat leaned to one side, the blasted pheasant feather threatening him. Red blotches bloomed on her cheeks, and blood still seeped from the corner of her mouth, which looked as if it was about to bite him. He feared letting go of her hands. “We may. One or both of us appear to be bleeding.”

  A tall figure bent over offering a snowy handkerchief. “I believe you both are bleeding.”

  He watched the President doff his top hat and offer his other hand to Summer.

  For perhaps three seconds, she appeared dazed. However, that didn’t last.

  Looking up through his good eye, Daniel watched flabbergasted as she took the President’s hand and with a ballerina’s grace stepped over him, smiling at President Lincoln.

  “An accident?” the president asked with his eyes twinkling,

  John Hay offered Daniel his hand and helped him to his feet and brushed snow off the back of him.

  Summer Rose nodded. Her big eyes glowed bright blue-green, so brilliant against the blacks and whites of the wintry landscape. “Yes, oh yes, of course, Sir, an accident. My horse …”

  Mr. Lincoln grinned and bent over cupping her chin in his big hand and dabbed at her lip. “I think you’ll be fine.” He cocked his head and studied Daniel, who now stood beside her. “You husband may need a few stitches. Come, into the carriage. We’ll drive you to Harewood.” His hand held her elbow as he directed her. “I’ve wanted to meet you, Mrs. Charteris. I work with your brother, Major McAllister. Here, keep my handkerchief.”

  John Hay opened the carriage door and helped them both up the step. “I’m John Hay. I know your brother, too.” He glanced at Daniel. “You are really bleeding, Sir.” He turned back to Summer.” Excuse me, I’ll get his hat.” The President held the bridle of her horse while the driver chased Daniel’s.

  They sat beside each other on the rear-facing bench. She turned to her husband and dabbed at his eyebrow and whispered. “I
told you you’d need lots of stitches.”

  His voice still low, snapped. “I never dreamed that marrying you would present such … opportunities for … stitches.”

  “Are you sorry?”

  “That I married you?” He let out a low chortle. “Oh. No. Never. How many women could manage to have the President of the United States holding her horse while she mops up her husband’s face with the President’s handkerchief? Only someone demented would pass up such a woman?”

  He lowered his voice. The hint of a smile creased his face, and he squeezed her knee, “Rest assured, Rosie, I have no regrets. However, in the future, I’ll take more care in my choice of words.”

  She whispered, “That would be wise.”

  Just then the carriage dipped and Mr. Lincoln sat opposite them. His eyes still twinkled.

  John Hay jumped on board and slammed the door. He handed Daniel his wet hat then smiled at Summer, pointing out the big stone house on the hill. “That’s Mrs. Mason’s place. I was just showing the President where it is.” He paled. “Oops. Was I not to mention that?”

  “It’s okay, Mr. Hay.” She turned to her husband. “Tell them the plans.” She bent forward and touched the President’s arm. “You’re the President. He can tell you, can’t he, Sir?”

  CHAPTER 31

  LIZA

  Without giving an explanation, Hal declined Mrs. Mason’s offer to take his great coat. He knew she wouldn’t question him. Besides being extremely pleasant, the trial run last night had been worth the high cost. In addition to surveying the premises, he’d let Pearl Mason know who was in charge.

  Pearl ushered him upstairs to a different room, one that overlooked the street. The bedcovers had been turned down, the many pillows fluffed, and a doll had been placed on the bed. He wondered vaguely if she was reminding him that Liza was a child. As if he needed a reminder. He hated being seen, even by this whore, as someone who would hurt a child.