US Grant Mysteries Boxed Set

by Jeffrey Marks

  “So when you find the money, you’ll be giving back to the government?” Julia asked with a sigh. Grant could see the way her mind worked. She was probably already imagining the headlines that the papers would print if he returned thousands of dollars in gold back to the Federal government. “He won the war and then paid for it.” He would have a reputation for honesty that would be unparalleled in American history. Grant watched silently her brain tumble over the ideas and the possibilities.

  Grant decided to continue talking. Julia was always the helpful sounding board for his thoughts as well as his biggest champion. During the war, she had referred to him as “Victor” and “Alexander” to laud him for the work he was doing in battle. “We really can’t discount anyone in town from having burgled our room.”

  Julia came back to the present from the White House and looked at him. “From the sounds of it, we can eliminate your friend, Mr. Newman and that Patsy. They couldn’t have been in two places at once.”

  “Agreed. As I said before, there’s no need for Newman to steal something that he has access to at any time. But you’re right. The Browns are the most likely suspects. They don’t have the gold, and they’re not sitting on the map. Either one of them could be concerned enough to try to take the map.” Grant tried to imagine either one of them scampering across the second floor porch and jumping to safety. Neither Micah Brown nor his large wife seemed a likely candidate.

  Julia stood up and went to check on Jess. She came back with a few stray water spots on her dress, which made Grant think that the boy was getting along well. “Then it could have been a woman who was here?”

  Grant paused for a second and nodded. “I only saw a bit of shadow, not the person. Still it wasn’t a big figure, maybe five foot five or seven, so it could have been a woman.” Grant was keenly aware of his own short stature and drew himself up to his full height as he spoke.

  “Then we can’t exclude that dreadful Mrs. Halley,” Julia huffed. “She’s just as able as anyone.” No telling why the woman had received that character evaluation, but Grant knew that she must have performed some snub to earn Julia’s enmity. A social misstep would be enough to hang the woman in Julia’s book. “She has every reason to steal the map. She’s likely to have some insight into where Woerner hid the gold because of her relationship with him, and she doesn’t stand to gain anything from the current arrangement.”

  Grant cleared his throat, knowing his coming defense would fall on deaf ears. Julia could be adamant in her opinions. “To be fair, Julia, Mrs. Halley doesn’t seem the type. She was rather offended receiving that money, and she made a point of tithing from it. It hardly seems in character for her to skulk around here, trying to steal the map. Whoever did that wants the gold and doesn’t mind breaking the law to get it. That hardly sounds like a God-fearing woman like Mrs. Halley.”

  Julia scoffed a skill she’d developed from years of practice as a Dent. He knew that she’d inherited the ability from her father, who had scoffed his way through the entire war. “Ulys, there’s never been a person who wouldn’t agree that it’s much easier to be well-off than poor. Mrs. Halley is about to find out what that’s like, and I can guarantee that she won’t enjoy it. So she certainly could be after the map. Or her son for that matter. He’s a bit older than Jess and look how much he’s into this treasure hunt.””

  Grant smiled, knowing that Julia had known both extremes, and much preferred the good life. “But if you’re going to talk about people profiting, then we should include the reverend as well. He’s been making a pretty penny off the widow.”

  Julia tried not to smile. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Putting the reverend away would definitely get your mother’s goat. If we’re going to talk about people with motives for wanting the money, you should find out who receives Mr. Woerner’s estate. There’s no wife or children, so someone has to get all of that. Would the gold technically belong to that person?”

  Grant shrugged. “I think not. If we’re going to ignore the government’s rightful claim on it, the gold still would belong to the two remaining men to be spent as they see fit. I don’t see that the widows or families get a cent.”

  “So what do we do now? Just sit here until someone succeeds in taking the map or killing someone else? Won’t everything be resolved when it’s down to one man? He’ll be the killer. Then the whole matter will be solved.” Julia stood up again and started towards the bathing room.

  Grant wondered. He hated to see the men killed like this. They had suffered through so much in Andersonville that he almost felt that they deserved the compensation from a grateful Union. Maybe not quite the sum they’d found, but an easier life seemed reasonable to Grant. After all, a nice new house in Philadelphia awaited Grant as well as one in Galena. With a potential political career, there were rumors that some wealthy patrons were trying to find him a suitable house in Washington, too. “What if the person who tried to steal the map isn’t the same one who killed Woerner and Halley? I don’t think we should lynch them just because they tried to steal a map.”

  Julia stopped and put a hand on her hip. Apparently convicting innocent people was acceptable for pawing through her clothes. “Are you suggesting that we have one person killing the men who have the gold and yet another stealing maps? It’s a bit much for a small town.”

  “Still, the person who is responsible for killing the men here would be remiss in killing the person who doled out the gold without first knowing where it was. That’s just plain tomfoolery.”

  Julia put a hand on the doorknob. “Why don’t you just get the two of them in a room and ask them who did it? That would be the simplest thing to do.”

  Grant pondered the suggestion for a moment. While Julia had not been serious, he thought that perhaps an evening of reminiscences might loosen a few tongues. Of course, if he had a chance to drink and smoke, all the better. But it was all in the name of protecting the Treasury and aiding the Union, not even Julia could object to that?

  Chapter 16

  Grant took a drag on his cigar and blew the smoke out slowly. Life could be good indeed. The game of Euchre had been Julia’s idea, but he’d thrown in the stogies and booze without too much fuss from his wife. Newman had offered to host the gathering, and Grant had invited his father to make it a foursome. Despite his intentions of asking some difficult questions, Grant wanted to make it as much like a fun evening as possible.

  Jesse, of course, wanted to attend. He saw a chance for a quick dollar out of the men who had brought home a fortune. His eyes had lit up at the opportunity to fleece the men. Grant had teamed up with Newman, leaving Jesse with Micah Brown and less likely to make any money. Jesse wouldn’t rig the game in his son’s favor. He was never inclined to do so. Grant knew that he’d have to keep an eye on his father not to manage some crooked deal. More than one life had been lost in Grant’s days in California over a bad play in Euchre. He’d never much played during his days in California. There had been other schemes and plans to make money back then. Of course, the logging and potato crops had been disastrous. Games of chance might have been a better investment on his savings.

  The game had been a particular favorite of Simon Bolivar Buckner, back when they were friends. Grant didn’t figure that Buckner would want much to do with him after Fort Donnelson. The Confederate officer had hoped for better terms when he’d offered the fort’s surrender. Instead, Grant had insisted on unconditional surrender, yielding him yet another nickname for “U.S. Grant”. Buckner had accepted those terms, but he was still a bit put out by the matter.

  The three other men seemed at ease with the game and quickly went about the motions of throwing money on the table. Grant took his time, enjoying the cigar and the boisterous company of men who had left the women behind for the night. Unless something turned up quick, he was going to have to turn his meager evidence over to Sheriff Crosson tomorrow and leave it to the law to figure out what had happened. That would pretty much guarantee that they wo
uld never see that gold again. The fortune might be better off staying lost if Crosson got involved. If it was found, the money could lead to criminal charges and more incarceration for the two remaining men.

  The veterans seemed oblivious to those facts tonight. Newman looked a little uncomfortable, but Micah Brown was nearly catatonic. He sat in his chair, studying his five cards as if his life depended on it. Grant had hoped that time away from his wife might loosen him up, but it hadn’t seemed to help much.

  The foursome was almost too polite to start with. At least there wouldn’t be any accusations of cheating tonight. The deck looked new, unlike the many handmade decks during the war, with the corners frayed and tattered. Grant picked up the five cards and eyed the ace of clubs face up on the small pile of cards remaining on the table. Since Newman had dealt, he would be expected to pick that card up if they wanted to attempt the three tricks necessary to win a hand.

  Brown named clubs as trump and threw down a dollar. Grant bit his lip, but didn’t speak. Brown could afford the money, even if it meant his wife would have to make do with less lace. He wasn’t sure how Brown planned to make the tricks when he held two clubs in his hand.

  The cards fell quickly, and Grant was amazed that Micah Brown picked up four of the five tricks in the hand. He actually smiled as he picked up the coins. Jesse had won money by default, just his luck.

  Newman laughed and threw down two more coins. “Just like old times, eh, Micah? You always were a lucky bastard.”

  Micah Brown smiled for a second. Grant saw a row of teeth that looked like dry field corn. The man must have been ravaged by the poor nutrition in the prison camp. He pitched a dollar bill on the table this time. “Weren’t so lucky that I didn’t end up in Andersonville, eh?”

  Newman shrugged. “True enough, but you always ended the game with the most sticks by far.”

  “Sticks don’t get you much in a prison camp, Newman. You should know that. Didn’t help those men one bit.” For a moment, Grant thought that Brown was going to bawl. He’d seen men come out of Andersonville broken, but he hadn’t known them before the war. It was just the way it was. This was like seeing a friend’s child all grown up. You couldn’t believe the change in them after the passage of time. For the people who you knew best, you didn’t see the slow changes in appearance. He knew that Rawlins, and Badeau had aged because of the war, but it didn’t register with him because he had shared four years with them. He had always been amazed at how much Lincoln had aged each time he’d come to camp, but it was nothing like these men. Grant had worried that his own potential presidency would age him too quickly, but it was easier still than the prison camps.

  Jesse got ready for the next hand. The men bet again, falling into a routine of Grant going first, followed by Newman and Brown. Jesse seemed to enjoy his role as dealer and snatched up the jack of diamonds when the bid came around to him. Grant wasn’t sure why Newman and Brown didn’t fare better with the cards. After all, by their own admission, they’d spent many a day wiling away the hours at Euchre. Brown had trouble in keeping the cards straight, often forgetting that same-suit jacks trumped the ace. He would throw down a card, only to have to pull it back up and throw another. On more than one occasion, he had to put a card back in his hand.

  Newman opted to go first and placed a dollar on the table. Brown took his lead from his partner and placed a greenback as his bets. Grant put down a single coin again, knowing that these men had much more money to waste on pastimes.

  Jesse threw his cards out slowly, enjoying his role as the dealer. Even with the bower, which all the men at the table pronounced “barr”, Jesse and Brown were euchred, and forked over the money to Grant and Newman. Grant scooped up a few coins for his trouble. Not that it made a huge difference, but perhaps Julia would like a new dress for her upcoming Cincinnati social events. He planned the way to explain to her the source of all this money. He’d been sent there with the specific purpose of trying to learn more from the men about what was going on.

  The night wore on with Grant slowly bringing up his totals until he felt sure enough to bet with the greenbacks that Jesse seemed to hand to him on a more regular basis. He pocketed some of the money, enjoying for a few minutes the illusion of wealth. He’d never had much of it, forced to make do, and ask for hand-outs from his father who doled out money like a miser.

  Newman grew more verbal as the bottles were slowly drained. Brown actually got some color in his face and seemed to enjoy life for a few minutes at a time. He laughed out loud for the first time since Grant had been in town. This was more like the old kicker that Grant had known when he was visiting from West Point.

  Brown emptied another glass of bourbon and looked at Newman. “I miss Young, you know?” He wiped his mouth off with the back of hand.

  “Yup, I miss them all. Doesn’t seem right here without them.”

  “Well, maybe not Woerner. I got a mite tired of his whining abouts every little thing. But yeah, I miss Halley too.” Brown took another sip from his glass that Grant had filled when no one was looking. The man didn’t seem to notice that his glass never emptied. “You know that Providence Springs was in the deadline? Have you ever been to Island Number Ten?”

  Newman shook his head. “Nah, Micah. They’ve never been there. Just you and me.”

  Brown seemed to accept the answer and went back to studying his cards.

  “Why not Woerner?” Jesse looked at the men with wide eyes. He hadn’t been drinking tonight. Maybe he thought that his wife would be able to see the accumulations of her God’s sins if they came all in one night. Grant could hardly imagine what his mother would say if she saw Jesse dealing Euchre. Her strict Methodist background would have prevented any such gambling, especially the type that went on in a saloon hall.

  Brown sniffed and looked around like he couldn’t believe someone was talking to him. “He got himself some big city ways. We was all from the same village, but he spent some time in Atlanta before he got sent to camp. Of course, the town was deserted, but he never forgot all the things he saw there. Made him want more.”

  Grant nodded. He’d seen many men who would never go back to farming a small Indiana or Illinois homestead after experiencing the rest of the country. The wide Atlantic Ocean, the might Mississippi, the Appalachian Mountains in fall. Going back to plow the same fields for the rest of their lives had no appeal after seeing the majesty of the U.S.

  Brown pointed a crooked finger at Grant, so that it seemed to point to the table. “Woerner wanted to take all that gold home, and him who wanted to hide it and parcel it out.”

  “Why did you let him?” Grant still wondered why they had all allowed one of their group to keep the gold. The results had left none of them with a cent at this point.

  “Woerner thought the whole thing out. He was afraid that someone would figure out what had happened and try to make off with the money.”

  Brown spat in the cuspidor by the table. “He was the only one what would make off with the money. He wanted to bring it home.”

  Newman smiled and patted Brown’s shoulder. “That’s not entirely true. I remember Halley picking up a handful of coins and trying to stuff them in his pockets and nearly falling down from all the extra weight on him. Admit it, we all wanted the money. Hell, we deserved it.”

  Brown flipped a gold coin to Grant. “It’s not like the money belonged to anyone. It was just sitting there.”

  Grant raised an eyebrow. “It was the gold of the Confederate government. By all rights that belongs to the Federals. The spoils of war go the victor and all that.”

  Micah Brown played with another coin. The gold glinted as it wended between his fingers. “I’m a Federal and a victor too, Sam. And after what I’d been through, a little money for my troubles only seemed fair.”

  “We weren’t supposed to profit from the war. What about all those boys who lost their lives?” Grant felt his face flush. These men had forgotten what the war was to be fought over. Not mo
ney, but to preserve an idea and to make men free. Certainly Newman with his interest in a black woman should realize that.

  “They won’t need it now, will they?” Brown’s eyes were as hard as iron as he looked at the pot on the table.

  “That’s no way to talk. Those boys gave their all for the Union, so there would be a single nation.”

  Brown snorted, but stopped playing with the coin. He slid it back into his pocket and put his hand on the table. “:C’mon, Sam. Be real. It weren’t like you didn’t profit from the war. You started out a failure. No offense, but you didn’t amount to much out of a uniform. And now look at you. You’re a big man now, and I know those people in Philadelphia bought you a house. A house. And how much money did New York give you? So don’t tell me that you didn’t profit from the war. And if you did, there’s no reason I shouldn’t either.”

  “But I didn’t take anything that wasn’t given to me. That gold is something different.”

  “How many times did we take things from the Rebs when we finished a battle? Supplies, food, horses. Hell, Sherman ate his way through Georgia. So if I come across some gold coins, who’s to say that I shouldn’t take what I want?”

  “But scavenging for food is a necessity. Money is not.” Grant knew that he’d been considered a maverick for cutting his own supply lines, and making his troops scour the countryside for something to eat. The military scholars at West Point would have had a conniption to think of such a tactic. But he’d kept the looting to a minimum even as the men searched for something to eat.

  “I look at them as reparations. You replaced food when you were hungry. You replaced a horse if yours got shot. They took away more than my food at Andersonville. They took away my dignity. I saw things in that place that no man should see. I can’t even begin to tell you what Halley and me had to stand. Weren’t right. No man should have to deal with that.” The memories seemed to wrack his body. He turned his face away for a moment.