Traces of Mercy

by Michael Landon, Jr.

  And if she happens to wake up one morning and remember that she has a husband and a child or two tucked away somewhere? What then?

  I don’t believe that is going to happen, but if it does, I will bow out gracefully.

  He wasn’t going to bow out. He was going to fight. Fight for the woman he loved. He had to find her—assure her that no matter what had happened, they could work it out together. He knew there was only one place she would go.

  The knock on the convent door came more quickly than even Mother Helena might have anticipated. Mercy knew before she opened it that Rand would be standing on the other side. She’d spent the last couple of hours trying to figure out what to say to him. The only thing she knew for sure was that she wasn’t going to tell him the truth, no matter what Mother Helena said. There was nothing in her that would allow the words I was a Confederate soldier to pass through her lips.

  When she opened the door, Rand stood in front of her with such an expression of pain on his face, she could barely stand to look at him.

  “Have you remembered someone else?” he asked. “Is that what this is all about?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  He closed his eyes with relief. She hated herself—and she hated Elijah Hale.

  Rand reached for her, but she shrank from his touch. “Please don’t.”

  “I don’t understand,” he said. He held up her note. “This makes no sense. I’m not calling off our wedding based on some cryptic comments!” He opened the paper and began to read aloud. “‘I cannot be the wife you deserve. I cannot be the woman you need by your side in the future you will have in your father’s business.’ What does that even mean?”

  “It means I can’t marry you,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. “Please, just go away, Rand. Please.”

  “No. Not until you give me a good reason for all this. I don’t understand why you suddenly changed your mind.”

  “It wasn’t sudden. I’ve never hidden the fact I’m worried about my past. Or rather, my lack of a past. If someone, or something, should appear …”

  “It’s not going to happen,” he said, “and even if it did, there’s nothing we can’t face together. You’re all I care about.”

  She felt herself soften, but she had to stay strong for his sake. “It’s not just my past,” she said. “It’s … so many things. The way I have to be coached before social events, the way your mother has to constantly watch me and prompt me to say or do the right things. I can’t be part of your world, Rand. I constantly worry about saying the wrong thing, doing the wrong thing. Embarrassing your family. I can’t live up to the Prescott name. I’m not the woman your parents envisioned for you to marry. And I never will be no matter how many lessons in etiquette I get or how much you spend on my clothes.”

  “None of that matters to me,” he said. “You’re denying our future based on something that’s never happened—or on the off chance that there is some dark secret in your past?”

  There is some dark secret, she almost screamed at him. Darker than you can live with. But instead, she looked down, afraid he would see how much she still loved him if he looked into her eyes.

  “I don’t accept this,” he said.

  “You have to. I’m sorry.”

  She started to close the door, but he slapped a palm against the wood.

  “We’ll run away together,” he said.

  “What?”

  “I know you love me, Mercy. And I want to spend my life with you. If the Prescott name and all the trappings and pressure that goes with that is too much for you—then I’m done with that too.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Rand. That’s your family! Your name! I know what losing both of those things would mean to you. I miss my name and my family, and I can’t even remember them!”

  “I don’t care about that. We’ll start somewhere new where nobody knows us—pick new names.”

  “And have you resent me someday? No. I won’t ask you to do that.”

  “You didn’t ask.”

  “Your parents …”

  “I’ll tell them the wedding is off,” he said.

  Tears trailed down her cheeks. “Why are you making this so hard? Just go. Go and live your life with someone who deserves you.”

  He reached out and wiped a tear from her cheek. “I’m not leaving here until you agree.”

  “I’m completely selfish if I do,” she said.

  She saw the triumph in his eyes when he realized he’d won. “I’m the selfish one. I need you in my life.” He grinned. “In just a few days we’ll be Mr. and Mrs. …”

  She watched it dawn on him that they couldn’t put their real names on a marriage certificate.

  “Coming up with a name isn’t as easy as you may think,” she said. “I should know.”

  “We’ll be Mr. and Mrs. Sherman,” he said.

  “After your horse?”

  “Why not? It’s a good, strong name. A general’s name,” he said.

  She tamped down the ripple of unease that he was speaking of a Union general and smiled. “Mrs. Sherman. I like it.”

  “I’ll need two days, maybe three to get some money together and tie up some loose ends without arousing the suspicion of my parents,” he said. “Promise me you’ll stay until I come back for you. I can’t give up everything without your sworn word.”

  “I promise. I will be here.” She leaned over and kissed him.

  He cupped her cheek. “Not a word to anyone. As soon as my mother finds out the wedding is off, so will half of St. Louis.”

  Not only did she know it, she was counting on it. “I won’t say a word—not even to the nuns.”

  Rand reached for her, drawing her close by grabbing her shoulders. She winced in pain and bit her lip.

  “You’re hurt?”

  “It’s nothing. I was being careless riding Lucky the other day and hit a branch with my shoulder,” she said.

  “Have you had a doctor look at it?”

  “I’m fine,” she said firmly. “Now go, so I can look properly sad again when I have to face the nuns.”

  “I’ll be back soon,” he said.

  Mercy watched him ride away and took slow, even breaths. She couldn’t believe it. She would still have Rand—and his love, respect, and admiration. It was almost too good to be true.

  Rand paced back and forth in front of his mother and father, who sat in matching chairs in the drawing room. While Charles read the note, Ilene perched on the edge of her seat, her lips locked in a grim expression and her hand outstretched for the paper.

  Charles finally looked at his son. “I suppose you have gone to find her?”

  Rand nodded. “She’s back at the convent with the nuns. She refuses to change her mind.”

  Ilene snapped her fingers for the paper, and Charles handed it over. She read it quickly while Rand downed the rest of his drink. When she looked up, her eyes were flashing.

  “The whole world has gone mad!” Ilene said. “First the war, then the president shot while he’s at the theater! The attempt on John Henderson’s life by some crazed lunatic, and now this!”

  “I hardly think the attempted murder of John and calling off a wedding carry the same weight,” Charles said caustically.

  “You aren’t the one who has broken your back over wedding details and plans for the last five months!” Ilene rose out of her chair. “She is refusing the Prescott name, turning her back on all the extensive and expensive wedding preparations I’ve made for her. She’s right, of course. She isn’t suitable for you—she never was.” Ilene pointed a finger at Rand. “I begged you not to get involved with her. I told you how foolish you were being, but in the end you had to have your way!”

  “This is hardly the time to place blame, Ilene,” Charles said evenly. “We were all enamored with the girl.” />
  “I most certainly was not!” Ilene argued. “I have been onto her since the first time I laid eyes on her. She is nothing but a gold digger …”

  “If that were true, Mother, she would still be marrying me,” Rand said firmly.

  “There is one piece of good news here,” Charles said.

  “I can’t imagine what,” Ilene said.

  “Better this all happened now than after she was legally a Prescott,” Charles said.

  “That’s your attempt at good news?” Ilene snapped. “This will cause scandalous humiliation for me.”

  Rand said nothing. His father stood and put a hand on his shoulder. “I know it’s a blow, Son, but you’ll get over her.”

  “I’m not sure about that, Father,” Rand said.

  “I’m sure,” Ilene said. “There are plenty of pedigreed women in St. Louis who have had their eye on you for years, Rand. Someone infinitely more suitable for you than Mercy was—someone bred to be a lady, who didn’t have to be coached through the most mundane social event. Honestly, sometimes I thought that girl was born in the backwoods of Mississippi.”

  Rand boiled inside as he listened to his mother’s disparaging remarks about the women he loved. “I didn’t know you disliked her so, Mother,” he said. “I thought you had warmed to the idea of our marriage.”

  Ilene waved a hand dismissively. “An act for your sake, my dear. We all do it for the ones we love, now don’t we?”

  Rand thought about Mercy’s reservations regarding his family, his position—the problems he thought she’d imagined. But it was all true. He saw that now. He had been right to suggest they run away.

  “Yes, Mother, we all do it for the ones we love,” he said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to be alone.”

  “Chin up, Son,” Charles said. “Tomorrow is a new day.”

  Rand nodded. He smiled as he left the room. Tomorrow was a new day indeed.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  It could have been so much worse. Although the entire wooden shed on the Hendersons’ property was a total loss, the house had suffered little damage. Elijah could see black bite marks from the fire that had licked up the edge of the structure, but with the servants’ help, he and John had managed to douse the flames before the whole house became a smoldering pile of ash.

  The person responsible for this should be hunted down and locked up, Elijah thought. Just as he had told Mercy, the war might be over, but bad feelings remained. As the sun rose the morning after the fire, Elijah had been the first to see the paper fluttering from the hand of the lawn jockey. An old newspaper article about John Henderson and his efforts on behalf of the Union was pasted on a piece of parchment, along with words made up of newsprint that read: Your debt must be paid, Henderson!

  Mary reacted as any wife would. She cried with relief that they were all still alive and hadn’t been killed in the fire; she was angry that someone had actually attacked her home; she was frightened that the madman who had tried once might come back and try again to hurt her husband.

  John did all he could to reassure his wife that everything would be fine. He telegraphed his good friend Allan Pinkerton in Chicago and asked him for advice on some added security for his home until the person or persons responsible for the attack were caught. Pinkerton, who owned the Pinkerton Detective Agency, responded swiftly. Less than a day later, Elijah stood and listened to one of the four agents at the Henderson place give John a briefing of their security plan.

  “Vigilance at all times, Congressman,” Tom McElroy said. “Two of us will be on the property twenty-four hours a day. We’ll take turns operating in twelve-hour shifts. Mrs. Henderson gave me a list of your social engagements for the next two weeks. One of us will be at your side wherever you go.”

  “Your men are armed?” Elijah asked.

  McElroy opened his jacket to reveal a revolver. “At all times.”

  A man on horseback came galloping down the Hendersons’ road. McElroy looked at John. “Are you expecting someone?”

  “No.”

  One of the Pinkertons stepped in front of the horseman and held up a hand. The man reined in the horse and stopped.

  “I have a message for Congressman and Mrs. Henderson,” he said, reaching into his vest pocket.

  “Dismount,” McElroy said.

  “I just have a—”

  McElroy drew his gun. “Please dismount.”

  Once the messenger was on the ground, one of the Pinkertons searched him. The man put his arms straight out away from his sides.

  “I’m telling you, I’m just trying to deliver a message from Mr. and Mrs. Prescott,” he said.

  McElroy looked at John. “You know a Prescott?”

  John nodded. “Yes. Let’s have the message.”

  McElroy nodded to the messenger, who pulled the note from his pocket and handed it to John. John read it quickly and then looked at the messenger.

  “No need for a reply,” he said. “You may go.”

  As the messenger went on his way, McElroy raised a brow at John. “Anything I should be aware of, Congressman?”

  John handed the note to Elijah but looked at McElroy. “As a matter of fact, you can cross one of those social engagements off your list. The Prescott wedding next week has been canceled.”

  Elijah read the note twice. It was impossible to know what had transpired between Rand and Mercy—had she told him the truth and he called it off? Or did she just walk away because the truth was too much to admit? Either way—the wedding was off, and Elijah was spared the distasteful job of having a very difficult conversation with Rand Prescott.

  “Wonder what happened there?” John mused aloud.

  Elijah shrugged. “Who knows?”

  “If Rand was the one who got cold feet, his mother will make him pay somehow, but if this was Mercy’s doing, then I shudder to think about how angry Ilene will be,” John said with a half smile.

  “If you’ll excuse us, Congressman, Captain, we are going to make a trek around the perimeter,” McElroy said. “Get a feel for the property.”

  “Fine,” John said.

  As they walked away, Elijah handed the note back to John. “I think you’ve got some good men looking out for you.”

  “Allan Pinkerton runs a fine organization. If he vouches for them, then I trust them with my life—and with Mary’s.”

  “As long as things are under control here and I don’t have a wedding to attend next week, I’m thinking I’ll head to Kansas early,” Elijah said. “I know my orders don’t require me to be there for another two weeks, but I’d like to get settled in before I’m on duty and riding around the western half of the country.”

  “Fort Wallace isn’t an easy post, Elijah,” John said. “I wish you would have let me pull a few strings to get you assigned here.”

  “What would a cavalryman do in town, John?” Elijah smiled.

  “I suppose that’s true.”

  “Protecting the expansion of the railroad from the Indians is a mite better than fighting a war against my own countrymen,” Elijah said.

  “True again,” John said. “If you ever head back this way, you know you’re welcome.”

  Elijah looked pointedly at the armed men on the property and the black marks from the fire. He shook his head. “Now that would be too dangerous,” Elijah said.

  John laughed, and even Elijah chuckled at his own joke.

  “What will be even more dangerous is telling my wife that the Prescott wedding has been canceled. Mary loves weddings,” John said.

  “She has been looking forward to it,” Elijah said.

  “Maybe you’d like to break it to her?” John asked hopefully.

  But Elijah shook his head. “I’d rather take my chances with the Indians.”

  John laughed. “Me, too.”

  De
irdre couldn’t figure it out. Mercy seemed … different. Deirdre had seen her when she first arrived back at the convent—brokenhearted and hopeless about her future. Her eyes had that haunted, lost-love look, and her complexion had been sallow. Those things Deirdre could understand. She would have expected Mercy to look awful, considering the girl had just canceled her wedding to the most eligible man in St. Louis. But the things that were puzzling Deirdre now were the little things. Several times she had caught Mercy with a hint of a smile on her face and had heard her humming while she did the dishes. Not normal behavior for a woman with a broken heart. Deirdre tried to pin her down as they did the breakfast dishes that morning.

  “How are you faring, Mercy?” Deirdre asked.

  “I’m … sad,” Mercy said.

  “Yes, of course, ’tis normal to be sad,” Deirdre agreed. “I would be happy to listen if you’d care to talk. It might help a wee bit.”

  But Mercy shook her head. “I don’t think anything will help.”

  “Can I ask you a personal question?”

  Mercy hesitated. “I suppose so.”

  “What was it that made you realize Rand wasn’t the right man for you? He seems pretty perfect to me.”

  “I really don’t want to talk about it, Deirdre,” Mercy said. “I’m trying to forget I ever knew Rand Prescott.”

  “Of course,” Deirdre said, rubbing a speck from a plate with the dish towel. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  And you’re lying to me, she thought.

  “I’ll be glad when our turn for kitchen chores is over next week,” Deirdre said. “All those children make for a lot of dirty dishes.”

  “I like the children being here,” Mercy said. “It makes the place a little livelier.”

  “Noisy, dirty, and chaotic is more like it,” Deirdre complained. “Next week we have to turn out the beds and do all the linens. It will take all day.”

  “I may not be here next week,” Mercy said. “I’m going to tell Mother Helena in the morning that I won’t be staying.”