A wrenching pain lodged in her chest, but she obeyed Cullen. She picked up her notes, and they huddled together in low-voiced discussion.
After the prisoners had been removed, General Holt and the commission determined the rules of procedure. Not being a real court, the commission had a great deal of latitude. Holt advised the commission several witnesses, fearing retaliation, would testify in secret.
“Which must be why there’s no record of Jack’s accusers,” she said.
After the rules were established, court adjourned for the day. Braham stood, indicating it was time for them to leave. He gathered his papers and slipped them into his briefcase.
“Let’s go,” he said.
On their way out of the courtroom, General Holt stopped Braham and said, “This will ruin your reputation. You’re a hell of a soldier. Step aside before it’s too late. Your client…well, it’s better to get out now.”
Holt’s attitude unnerved and infuriated Charlotte. The prosecutor had no idea what being in the courtroom cost Braham. He had spent months planning to save the president’s life and had failed. A man he loved as a brother was charged with a crime Braham had tried to prevent and failed. He wasn’t about to let his failure end Jack’s life. Braham shifted his feet, pretending Holt’s comments didn’t matter, but not quite pulling it off.
“I loved President Lincoln,” Braham said, “and I’ll grieve for him the rest of my life. I pray for the day those responsible pay the ultimate price for what they’ve done. But I know beyond a shadow of a doubt Jack Mallory is innocent. He did not support the rebel cause. He did not participate in a conspiracy, and I intend to prove it. Good day, General.”
Waves of weariness seemed to drag on Braham as they walked back to their carriage. Charlotte jogged to keep up with the two long-legged men. As soon as they were safely inside the carriage and out of earshot of soldiers and spectators, Braham groaned.
“What possessed Jack to alienate the commissioners before the trial even started? I could wring his neck. If they could have voted right then they would have put him in front of a firing squad. Good God.” Braham scrubbed his face with his hands. “I’ll never be able to redeem him in the eyes of the commissioners.” He sat utterly motionless while a silent pall settled over the interior of the carriage.
Charlotte didn’t say anything. Then after several minutes, she asked, “Did you see Gordon?”
Braham wore a cold, contemplative look as he studied her. “No. Where was he?”
“Standing several feet behind you while you were talking to Holt, hissing like an angry serpent. I’m surprised you weren’t scorched by the steam.”
“So that was Gordon,” Cullen said.
Charlotte raised her voice excitedly. “You saw him?”
Cullen nodded as he teased the corner of his lip with his index finger, giving her a wry smile. “I did, and I agree with yer assessment.”
She shivered briefly in spite of the heat. “I didn’t want to look at him too closely. He gives me the creeps. What’d you think of his eyes? I didn’t get a good look at them.”
“They were glassy,” Cullen said.
“Good. The more pressure he’s under, the more laudanum he’ll use,” she said.
Cullen bounced his fingers now instead of his usual steepling. “David believes Henly framed Jack, but it seems excessive for a jealousy motive.”
“Jealous lovers kill people all the time,” she said.
“Yes, but for unrequited love or unfaithfulness. Not an elaborate plan to frame someone for a crime,” Cullen said.
“Add in revenge and you’ve got a very credible motive,” she said.
A question lifted Cullen’s brows. “Why would he want revenge?”
Braham leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. Intense interest showed on his face. “He wanted the position working for Lincoln. He outranked me, but I got the appointment. He’s had no use for me since.”
Cullen and Charlotte both stared intensely at Braham.
“Jesus. If Henly’s done all this to get even with me, I’ll stick a knife in his bloody black heart.”
84
Washington City, 1865
Three days later, Charlotte handed Braham his briefcase and kissed him good-bye at the door. He carried a signed writ of habeas corpus, a motion to compel General Hartranft to discontinue the use of hoods and excessive restraints, a motion to allow Jack to testify on his own behalf, and a motion compelling the general to make available for interview certain witnesses held in detention. When the motions were filed, the courtroom would explode, and she hated missing the excitement.
When the daily newspapers arrived, she spread them out on the dining room table to read the press reactions. They were filled with praise for Braham and Cullen’s legal prowess. Several members of the Washington bar weighed in on the constitutional challenges presented at the military trial and in federal court. Braham and Cullen were touted as brilliant, though a couple of editorials claimed Braham’s legal maneuvers were insane. One newspaper went so far as to say the courtroom shenanigans provided the best entertainment Washington had seen in over four years, and Colonel McCabe was the only actor on stage who’d been given the script. Charlotte pictured smoke pouring from General Holt’s ears over this comment.
President Johnson had suspended the writ as Braham anticipated, and Cullen had immediately filed suit in federal court claiming the president had acted beyond the scope of his legal authority. The legal community found the arguments fodder for endless debate, and the demand for courtroom passes far surpassed availability. Lawyers and journalists pressed for details about the motions Colonel McCabe intended to file on his client’s behalf. The topic of Jack’s guilt or innocence was ignored. The reports, interviews, and editorials all focused on Braham and Cullen’s legal arguments.
The publicity was taking its toll on Braham, and although he hadn’t mentioned it to her, she knew he believed he had crossed the line he’d drawn the day Cullen asked him if he thought they were cheating. General Holt was making up the rules as he went along, and to Charlotte, that was the real cheating. His railroading meant Braham and Cullen had to use everything at their disposal to save Jack.
Sorting through all the motions and briefs gave her a giant headache. Cullen left her a list of tasks every morning, and it took most of the day to mark off only the first few items. It was tedious work, and her hand cramped from writing hour after hour.
In the evening, after she’d eaten alone, she decided to take her work to her bedroom. She straightened the office, locked up the research, and took only her handwritten notes. Propped up in bed to read, she quickly fell asleep. Male voices coming from the parlor woke her some time later. She ran a brush through her curls then hurried downstairs to join the men.
Braham, Cullen, and David were relaxing with their feet up, jackets and cravats discarded, cigars and pipes and whisky glasses in their hands. The story David was telling had them all laughing. When she entered the room, they all got politely to their feet.
“Please sit. You’ve had a long day.” She waved her hand in front of her face to clear a window in the pungent smoke. “I’ll even ignore the cigars.” After pouring herself a drink, she joined Braham on the sofa.
He took her hand and kissed it. Then he tilted his head to one side, narrowing his eyes. “Ye’ve been asleep. We woke ye.”
She pushed away his concern. “I dozed off waiting for you. I read the early papers. Did you? I’m sure you cringed over the ‘script’ line.”
He frowned behind a cloud of cigar smoke. “I did.”
“The best research in the world won’t help a man who doesn’t have the innate intelligence to understand it and use it effectively. The commissioners are going to resist because they don’t understand how you can do what you do. The only way they can fight you is to shut you up. But the press won’t let them get away with it. Thank God for the press. I wish I could be there, but I know my presence is a burden.”
“I live in fear of the day someone rips the beard off yer face and exposes ye,” Cullen said, pointing his cigar at her.
“I’ll kick ’em in the balls before I let it happen.” A quiet cough punctuated her comment. The smoke in the room was overpowering, but these men were on a path fraught with danger, and if they wanted to smoke, she wasn’t about to deprive them of their simple pleasure. “Did I hear David talking about Gordon as I came downstairs? What’s the latest with him?”
David drew on a pipe and blew rings into the air. The new ring struck the remnants of the old ring, and they both disintegrated in a haze. “We’ve played a few games. His losses now tally over five thousand dollars, and tonight I won the family business.”
“Excellent. What kind of business?” Braham asked.
David removed the pipe between his teeth and said, “Lumber. Near Cincinnati.”
Cullen pointed with his cigar held loosely between two fingers. “It should be a very profitable business now the war has ended.”
“How long are you going to keep playing him? He can’t have much left to wager.”
David’s pipe threatened to go out, and he drew on it heavily until the bowl glowed red. “When he left the table tonight, he said he’d be back tomorrow. I believe someone is staking him. Gaylord is following up.”
Charlotte put the edge of her glass to her lips, wondering. “Why would someone stake him? Does Braham have more enemies than we were aware of?”
The men laughed, and Cullen said, “Several new ones, lass.”
Braham bit down on the end of the cigar. “Start with Johnson and work yer way down to the court reporters borrowed from the Senate.”
Charlotte fanned her way through the smoke, heading to the cabinet to refill her drink. “Braham, do you think Gordon knows there’s a connection between you and David?”
“It’s possible.”
She refilled her glass, replaced the stopper on the decanter, and sipped her drink. “If he loses everything, including his backer, he’ll blame you for his gambling losses, too.”
“At this point, lass, he’ll blame me if it rains.”
She moved over to the window and gulped in a few lungfuls of smokeless air. “You need a bodyguard.”
“Cullen and I now have two apiece. David has a dozen.”
Braham patted the cushion next to him, inviting her to come back. She shrugged. As long as she stayed in the room, she wasn’t going to escape the smoke. She sat, tucked her feet beneath her on the sofa, and leaned against him. Being with these three men made her heart ache for Jack. He would have loved this moment—drinking whisky and smoking cigars with the guys. The least she could do was enjoy it for him.
“I wish you had told me about the bodyguards earlier. I’ve been so worried.”
“Cullen and I didn’t know about them until we left for court this morning. Nice lads. Former sergeants. Gaylord arranged it, interviewed a hundred men, and selected sixteen burly ex-soldiers. David trained them. Starting tomorrow, ye’ll also have a guard, twenty-four hours a day.”
“Seriously?”
David turned the pipe over and knocked the dottle out into the ashtray. “Gaylord told them he was starting an agency. Their future employment would depend on how well they performed this assignment. They have no families to return to, and were glad for the work.”
She chuckled under her breath. “So we have our own police force now.”
Braham placed his warm hand over hers. “Something like that. This is a dangerous game we’re playing, but a necessary one. When I subpoena Henly next week, he may become aggressive. We have to protect ourselves.”
“He’ll be a hostile witness, won’t he?”
“Aye, and if he lies,” Braham said, frowning, “I’ll have to call ye to the stand.”
She glanced up at him. His penetrating look of concern cut straight through her. He didn’t want her on the witness stand, and she didn’t want to testify, but for Jack, she would do anything. “Maybe if Gordon knows I’m in town and prepared to testify, he’ll think twice about lying.”
Cullen puffed on his cigar, blowing rings of his own which seemed to entertain him. “We can’t risk exposing ye until the last possible moment.”
She fiddled with the small cameo brooch pinned at her collar. It had belonged to her great-grandmother and Charlotte had accidently left it behind on her previous trip. It reminded her of the lost sapphire. “Did you ask Jack what happened to the brooch?”
Braham blew perfect rings into the air and calmly said, “He tossed it and assumed it went out the window.”
Charlotte sat bolt upright. “He did what?”
Braham put his arm around her shoulder. “The police would have taken it, and he knew Edward went over the grounds twice a day, pulling weeds and picking up trash. He assumed he would find it.”
“What’d Edward say?”
“He hasn’t seen it. He even raked the entire yard. If it was there, it’s gone now. He questioned all the members of my staff. No one has seen it.”
A trickle of sweat ran down the back of her neck. “Damn. Then we have to assume it’s gone for good, which means you’ll have to take the ruby and escort Jack home, and then come back for David and me.”
“Once we prove Jack’s innocence, we’ll solve the logistics problem.”
“I wish we’d never had access to the ruby. You wouldn’t have been able to come back on your own, and I wouldn’t have come chasing after you.”
Cullen cleared his throat. “Let’s leave the ruby brooch out of this. Without it, I never would have met Kit.”
“Then she could have married me,” David said.
Cullen glared at David, jaw muscles rippling as he ground his teeth.
David ducked and crossed his arms in front of his face in mock terror. “Just kidding. She’s like my little sister.”
Braham turned his head so his cheek rested against Charlotte’s hair. The faint rasp of his whiskers made scratching noises near her ear. His unusual public display of affection surprised her, tickling her insides.
Cullen puffed his cigar. “Ye’re not planning a trip to California, I hope.”
David clamped down on the lip of the empty pipe, clicking his teeth. Then he stretched out his long arms and cracked his knuckles one at a time. “Hmm. Do ye think we’ll have time for a quick trip, Charley?”
She gave David a teasing smile. “Don’t drag me into this.”
David made for the cabinet and the whisky decanter. He gave Cullen a light punch on the shoulder. “Ye’re a lucky man. Ye and Kit are creating a fine legacy for yer heirs. I’d love to see the lass, but ye’ve nothing to fear from me.” David refilled his glass, and he and Cullen clinked their drinks. “Slainte.”
Braham kissed her cheek, and she turned toward him, searching his expression, but she could read nothing other than tiredness in his eyes.
“It’s getting late,” Cullen said, “and I still have work to do.”
Yes, it was late, and she wanted time alone with Braham, to nestle in his arms and hear his heartbeat, and know he belonged to her. For now. She had no illusions about what they shared. It wouldn’t—couldn’t—last beyond the next few weeks. But while they were together, she would store up a lifetime of memories.
She loved him, and as many times as she had recited the mantra I won’t stay and he won’t go, she prayed every day he would change his mind, because she knew she couldn’t change hers. She couldn’t give up twenty-first-century medicine. The soldiers she hadn’t been able to save, the ones she could have saved in her time, had been heartrending. And she missed the freedom women had to vote, to work outside the home, to participate in government, and to even run down the street in athletic shorts. Her predecessors had made sacrifices so she could do what she did every day, and while she often took her rights and privileges for granted, she could never give them up permanently. Did it make her selfish and shallow? Maybe. But she knew herself well enough to know she couldn’t give up h
er life, not at thirty-eight, and not even for love.
Yes, the life she returned to wouldn’t be the same, but the hospital would still be there, and Jack would be there, and Ken would continue to pressure her to date his friends. Life would go on. She would feel pain. Her body would crave the rumble of Braham’s laughter, the warmth of his hands, and the gleam in his eyes, expressing the words of his heart. She would miss his jokes, his teasing, and his protection. Good things were rare, and they were to be cherished. But most of all, she would miss his love.
She attempted a smile but wasn’t sure she managed. “What’s on the calendar for tomorrow?”
“Cullen will be in federal court arguing motions. I’ll be with Jack.”
“Then we need to get some sleep,” she said.
Cullen stretched and headed out of the room with his whisky and cigar. “I’ll be up for a while working, and will leave a new list for ye to attack tomorrow.”
Charlotte cleared her throat noisily, expressing her complaint. “I haven’t finished today’s list yet. But you know what? Now I have a bodyguard, I can go to the park.”
On her way to the stairs, Braham cupped her elbow and pulled her to him possessively. “Wear yer disguise and obey yer bodyguard.”
“Unless Stanton wants to arrest me for participating in the conspiracy, too, don’t you think I’m safe?”
His nostrils flared slightly. “I don’t, and ye should never take yer safety for granted.”
85
Washington City, 1865
Charlotte’s daily habit was to begin by devouring the newspapers. Another reporter had mentioned Braham seemed to be the only player who had read the script, and she cringed to see the line now printed and reprinted in all three papers. She had visions of the military invading the house in search of stolen War Department files.
Stanton had to be livid. Good for him. Let him lose sleep wondering if he had an informant in his office. No need for informants when you had strategically placed listening devices. She had learned about them only this morning, when Cullen handed her pages of transcripts to be locked in the safe. David had planted bugs in both Stanton and General Holt’s offices. When Braham had suggested to Cullen perhaps they were cheating, surprisingly, Cullen had laughed, claiming he knew about tape recordings, and he wasn’t going to debate the ethics of using them in Jack’s case.
The Sapphire Brooch Page 58