by David Archer
“There were three,” Kim said, “one from each of my three wives. In those days, I’m sorry to say, it was not uncommon for young women to die in childbirth. Both of my first two wives did so. There were Henry Junior, Horace, and my only daughter, Winnifred.”
Indie turned and looked at Sam. “Well,” she said softly, “I found him, I think.” She turned to her mother. “Beauregard, I’ve got a Henry Thomas Beauregard, born in Johnson City, Tennessee, on July 29, 1826. The only problem is that according to the information I see here, he died at fifty-one years old in Franklin, Tennessee, not Hazard, Kentucky.”
“My goodness,” Kim said. “If that is correct, then I am concerned. Is there any possibility that that information could be faulty?”
She shrugged. “That kind of information is often contributed by people using the system, so I suppose it could be wrong. Do you know what happened to your children? Anything at all?”
“I fear that I do not,” Kim said. “As I said, I had lost track of them during the war. We had been living in Tennessee, in Greenville, but the family had to flee when it was under attack while I was gone. I was never able to find them after the war.”
Indie bit her bottom lip for a second, then let out a sigh. “Well, Henry Junior, who was born in 1849, apparently joined the Army sometime after you did. He died on November 29, 1864, at the battle of Spring Hill, Tennessee.”
Kim’s face, already bearing the visage of age and weariness, sank. She looked at the floor for a moment and then closed her eyes. “And Horace? Does your information machine tell you anything about him?”
“Yes,” Indie said. “Horace was born in 1853, and never enlisted. He was married in 1870, in Franklin, Tennessee. He and his wife had one child, a girl named Annabelle, but she died of pneumonia when she was seven years old. Horace died in 1884, still in Franklin. According to this, he had lost his mind and was in some kind of an asylum at the time.” She cleared her throat. “And that brings us to Winnifred. Winnifred was born in 1857, and she married a man named Arthur Chase in 1871. They had settled in Murfreesboro, Tennessee, and had three children, two boys and a girl. Their names were Andrew, Henry, and Martha. Arthur is listed as having died of consumption in 1889. Andrew married in 1890 but never had any children. He also seemed to have had mental issues, and he died in 1896 while in a hospital for people with dementia. Henry apparently never married, but he died in 1892 at the age of eighteen, in a horse race. Martha was married in 1895, to a man named Charles Wellington, a lawyer who was quite a bit older than she was. She had two daughters, Clara and Beatrice, but apparently Charles died in 1901. There is a reference that says she and her children then moved back in with her mother. She married again in 1906 but had no more children. She remained in Murfreesboro until 1939, when Winnifred passed away, and then moved to Nashville. Martha died at the age of seventy in 1956.” She looked up at him. “I’m afraid there’s no record of Clara or Beatrice ever getting married.”
Kim kept her gaze on the floor for a moment but then looked up at her daughter. “And yet, at least one of them must have done so, if I am correct about having living descendants. Is there no other avenue you might explore, to find out what happened to them?”
Sam let out a sigh. “Look,” he said, “this is—well, it’s pretty spooky is what it is, but it could be just pure coincidence that he got so many details right.”
“I agree with you, Samuel,” said Beauregard’s voice through Kim’s lips. “This is my great worry, that although I feel myself to be genuine, you could be correct about me. Perhaps I am nothing more than some part of Miss Kimberly’s imagination. I know that you believe me to be none else than that, and if you are right, then it may well be that my concerns about my distant offspring may be all for naught.” Kim slowly turned her face to look into Sam’s eyes. “Miss Kimberly has read many books about the workings of the mind and talked with me about them, so I am familiar with the concept of multiple personalities. I know that it is not uncommon for an individual to create a new personality, complete with its own sense of identity, to protect the individual from something it fears. In this case, it would appear that what she might fear is her own ability to predict some aspects of the future.”
Indie nodded. “That’s what I’ve always wondered,” she said. “Mom was raised by strict Catholic parents, and then she was in Catholic foster homes until she got pregnant with me. Naturally, anything to do with the supernatural was considered an absolute taboo. Anyone who could see the future was considered to be involved in evil, maybe even possessed. I could see why she might be afraid if she suddenly developed a gift like that. To her, it would probably seem like something from the devil.”
“But then how could Kim know all these things about this Henry Beauregard you found?” Sam asked. “How could she possibly know so accurately what the names of his children were? As much as I hate to admit it, this is making me consider the possibility, for the first time, that Beauregard is exactly who he claims to be.”
Kim’s eyes, already focused on Sam, crinkled as her face broke into a smile. “I am so relieved, Samuel, to hear those words come from you. For the time has come when I must know whether I am truly Henry Thomas Beauregard, or that part of him which remains upon the earth after his passing—or merely a simple construct of the imagination of this good lady. There is none other on this earth to whom I can turn, Samuel, but if I am correct, then there are those who are descended from Mr. Beauregard who need your help, and so it seems to me that by finding them you will also find the answer we both seek.”
Sam stared at his mother-in-law for a moment, then slowly nodded. “Beauregard, I’m willing to concede the possibility that you really are that old soldier. Tracking down your descendants is going to mean taking a trip to Tennessee, I’m sure, and who knows where after that. I’ll get started on it immediately.”
“Thank you, Samuel,” Kim said. “If I might add only a bit more, it is that I do not sense any danger to yourself in this. If it would be possible, I would like Miss Kimberly to accompany you. I believe that I may be of assistance in this endeavor.”
Sam’s eyebrows rose a half inch, but Indie was nodding. “We can make it a family trip,” she said. “Kenzie’s way ahead on her schoolwork, so that’s not a problem. Her teachers won’t mind if she’s gone for a few days. How about it, Sam?”
Sam rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of a smile on his face. “Sure, why not? The more the merrier. Let’s all get packed, and we can head out today.”
2
Beauregard had relinquished control to Kim only a moment later, and she was quickly brought up to date, but it only left her looking more confused. Grace came to her rescue.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” she said, “let’s just go home and pack. We are all going on a trip, did you get that much?”
The two grandmothers left to go home, while Sam and Indie began preparing themselves for the journey. “I guess this can work,” Sam said. “Sort of like a working vacation, right?”
Indie looked up at him with a grin. “Sam Prichard, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were actually having fun with this. Did you mean it when you said you’re starting to believe in Beauregard?”
Sam shivered. “I’m so serious it’s sending chills up and down my spine. I never wanted to believe in ghosts, but how else can you explain Kim being so accurate with all those little details?”
“I can’t,” Indie agreed. “It really is pretty spooky, isn’t it? It’s just that we’ve always gone on the assumption that Beauregard wasn’t real, up till now. It’s kind of hard to change my way of thinking so quickly.”
“Well,” Sam said, “let’s just go and do this. If we find Henry Beauregard’s grandkids and they really do need some kind of assistance, that will pretty much nail it down.”
Indie nodded and they began packing in earnest. Kenzie was running through the house excitedly, her cat, Samson, tumbling along at her heels. Sam noticed, and quickly called Jim Peterson, his friend down the
street, who agreed to let Samson come and visit with them for a while.
It took less than two hours to get everything ready. Since it was a Sunday, Sam left a note in the mailbox telling the postman to hold their mail until further notice, and then they climbed into their Honda Ridgeline and headed for Grace’s house. Grace and Kim were packed and ready, so they loaded everything into the back of the little truck and got onto the highway.
From Denver, Colorado, to Murfreesboro, Tennessee, was about an eighteen-hour drive, when Sam factored in stopping to eat and other necessities. Since it was almost noon by the time they got on the road, he planned on stopping somewhere for the night, but first it was time for lunch.
“Anybody hungry?” That question got a chorus of affirmative answers, so he stopped at a burger shop just before they got onto I-70. Four deluxe combo meals and an Adventure Meal later, the Ridgeline made the sharp turn out of the parking lot and onto the ramp.
Kenzie, her car seat comfortably sandwiched between her grandmothers, was asleep before they made five miles. The grandmothers followed her less than ten miles later, leaving Sam and Indie as the only ones awake.
“Thank you for this,” Indie said.
Sam glanced at her with his eyebrows high. “For what?”
“For taking us all along. We haven’t gotten out of town to just relax for a long time, so this will be a nice break.” She glanced into the back seat, then turned back to Sam with a smile. “And while she’d never admit it, I don’t think Mom has been on any kind of vacation in at least five years, unless you count the times Harry has shipped us all off somewhere. We had some fun at Disney World, but just knowing we had all that security watching us kind of ruined some of it, you know?”
Sam nodded. “Yeah, I can imagine. Well, this isn’t going to be all fun and games, but we should be able to find time for a little relaxation. I just want to work the case as much as I can, just in case Beauregard is right and there are people in trouble.”
“Oh, let’s face it, Sam,” Indie said. “We know he’s right—he’s always right. I don’t know who his descendants are, but I’m quite certain they need some kind of help or he wouldn’t have known about it.”
“That’s pretty much how I feel about it,” Sam said. “And I’ll admit there’s a little part of me that is curious, now, that wants to know just who Beauregard really was. I’ve read a lot of books and articles about so-called ghosts, and I’ve never heard of anyone actually being able to verify that one existed. The more he talked this morning, though, the more I began to believe. When you were able to find a record of him and his children, that just about clinched it for me.”
“Yeah, I understand. Are you thinking about writing a book of your own, once we’ve proved he really did exist?”
Sam shook his head. “No way,” he said. “Good grief, can you imagine what would happen? Your mother would never have another moment’s peace. Between the scientists who would want to try to study Beauregard through her and the loonies who would want Beauregard to tell them where to find the missing family fortune, I’m afraid it would drive her crazy.”
Indie shrugged. “You could always do it the way most of them do,” she said, “saying you had to change the names to protect everybody. That way no one could actually track her down.”
“If you can’t publish the name of the person who really is the proof of what you’re saying, then why bother to write anything about it at all? That wouldn’t be any different than writing a fictional story. Besides, I don’t know that it would be good for people to believe in life after death, not this way. If everyone thought they would simply end up as a ghost, it might be too easy for them to stop paying attention to how they live. There aren’t any ghosts in the Bible, you know.”
“Yes, there are,” Indie said. “I don’t remember exactly where it is, but King Saul went to the medium and asked her to call up the ghost of the prophet Samuel, and she did. Samuel told Saul that he would die the next day, so that means that maybe ghosts really can see the future.”
Sam glanced at her for a second before turning his eyes back to the road. “Okay, good point,” he said. “Still, I don’t think I’d want to try to tell the world about Beauregard. Somehow I don’t think it would be fair to him or your mother.”
The road droned on beneath them, and it wasn’t long before Sam glanced over to find Indie sleeping, as well. That was okay with him, though; Sam felt that he always did some of his best thinking while he was behind the wheel.
Of course, that was when the irony of the entire situation struck him. He had spent the last couple of years trying to deny that Beauregard could possibly be real, and now he was on a quest to prove that the old soldier really had existed. He decided to fall back on one of his favorite maxims.
Life, he told himself, is what happens while you’re making other plans.
Sam stopped for gas in the middle of Kansas, which woke everyone and precipitated a short break. It got longer when they decided to have dinner, and then they were back on the road. They made it to just short of Kansas City before stopping for gas again, then drove on for a couple hours more, finally stopping for the night at Columbia, Missouri.
The long drive, despite being comfortable in the Ridgeline, had taken its toll on everyone. Sam paid for two rooms and confessed to Indie that he was relieved when Kenzie decided she wanted to stay with her grandmothers.
Indie agreed. Being four and a half months pregnant, she was feeling the effects of carrying her second child and was looking forward to a good night’s sleep. She took a quick shower and climbed into bed, and was sleeping peacefully by the time Sam got back from his own.
They took advantage of the continental breakfast at the hotel the following morning, then checked out and hit the road. Sam predicted that they would reach Murfreesboro by four p.m., but between Kenzie and Indie, the potty breaks added an extra hour to the trip. They rolled into town just after five, and Sam was delighted to see a selection of motels. He checked them in, and then they went out in search of a nice dinner.
Murfreesboro, Tennessee, was of major importance during the Civil War. Following a battle between the Union’s General Rosecrans and Confederate General Bragg between December 31, 1862, and January 2, 1863, it became a Union base of operations that allowed the North to push further into the South. Rosecrans decided to use the city as a supply depot, and Fortress Rosecrans was ordered built. This was the largest military structure of the Civil War, covering two hundred and twenty-five acres and comprising sawmills, small factories, and other forms of industry within its borders. The fortress was never attacked, primarily because of the constant training of artillery at that location.
After the war, the city remained and slowly began to recover. It had become an educational center of the state of Tennessee, earning it the nickname “Athens of Tennessee.” As time passed, it continued to grow as an educational center, culminating with the formation of the Middle Tennessee State Normal School, an institution for training teachers. In 1965, this became the Middle Tennessee State University, a major educational institution that is still growing today.
After dinner and some relaxing television time, the family once again split into two rooms and settled down for the night. The following morning, Sam decided to let them rest while he began his search for information regarding Martha Chase Wellington and her daughters, Clara and Beatrice.
His first stop that morning was at the Rutherford County Courthouse. He knew that Henry Beauregard’s daughter, Winnifred, and her husband, Arthur Chase, had moved to Murfreesboro sometime after they were married in 1871, so he asked the clerk about researching the records from that time.
The woman gave him a knowing smile and escorted him to a room in the basement that was lined with shelves holding massive books. “You can start here,” she said, indicating a particular section of a particular shelf. “This would be the first book of records for 1871.”
Sam’s eyes got wide as he looked at the thick book an
d all the others that followed it. “You mean, none of this has been digitized?”
“I’m afraid not,” the clerk said. “We’ve asked repeatedly for the budget to do so, but it’s just never come through. If you find the names you’re looking for, then there will be a catalog number on the far right of the page. Write it down and bring it to me, and I’ll be able to show you where to find all of the actual records pertaining to those individuals.”
She turned around and left Sam standing in the room, so he sighed heavily and took down the first book she had indicated. There was a table against one wall with an ancient desk lamp, so he sat down and began going through the book page by page.
Running his finger down the names on the third column of each page, Sam found that he could search each book fairly quickly. Still, it took him almost forty minutes to scan through the first book alone, and he was halfway through the third book for the year before he spotted the name Chase, Arthur. He wrote down the catalog number on a slip of paper and started to put the book away and head back to the clerk, but then he had a thought.
He recalled that Martha Chase had married Charles Wellington in 1895, so he found the books for that year and began scanning through them. He only made it halfway through the first book when he came across Wellington, Charles, and copied down that number, as well.
He put the book away and made his way back up the stairs to the clerk’s office. The same woman smiled when he handed her the slip of paper with the names and catalog numbers on them, and then escorted him to yet another room that held a number of microfilm viewers. She showed him how to use the catalog numbers to find the specific film that would have copies of documents relating to the names he had listed, and Sam shook his head in disbelief.
“Microfilm? Do they still make those machines?”
“Oh, no,” the clerk said with a grin. “These are probably fifty years old, but they still work.”
“That’s good, I suppose,” Sam said. “I’m just surprised those books weren’t already converted over.”