by Fortune Kent
“You’re cruel,” she said.
He looked at her without expression. “You’ve changed,” he told her. “In the few days I’ve been gone you’ve become a different person.”
“I’m not afraid of you anymore. I don’t know why, but I’m not.”
“For someone so fearless you didn’t accomplish what you set out to do, did you?”
“You know I didn’t.”
“I never believed you would. Not for a moment.”
“I might have if Charles—”
“Charles, is it?”
“—if Captain Worthington hadn’t as much as asked me to shoot him. He seemed to want to die.”
“Then he must have admitted killing your brother.”
“Yes, he did. I expected him to deny it, to produce all sorts of excuses for himself, but no, he told me he killed him. Then he walked right at me while he dared me to pull the trigger. I couldn’t, Josiah, I just couldn’t.”
“Edward gave you my message?”
“‘And ye shall know the truth?’ Yes, and you’re right, I must find the answer to what happened on the plains, if only to stop the dreams. I dream about him, about Michael. As though he won’t let me rest. About the Indians, too. Not dreams—nightmares.”
“First we’ve got to find Jeb and Floyd,” Josiah said. “They’re a crucial part of what happened in Kansas.”
“You keep looking past me over my shoulder. Do you expect them to come from behind the house?” Josiah nodded.
Edward cleared his throat. “You’re being too obvious,” he said to Josiah. “I suspected your snare—the Captain’s horse hidden in the trees, the mud on the doorsill. They’ll suspect, too, and know someone intends to lure them into the ballroom.”
“Edward, if you were Jeb and Floyd coming to the house from the mountain, what would you do?”
Edward stroked his cheek. “First, I’d reconnoiter to find another way in. Perhaps at the front, or a window on the side.”
“You’d discover yourself blocked. We have cadets posted in both places. Inconspicuously, but Jeb and Floyd will spot them.”
“The servants’ quarters across the lawn by the barn, then. They overlook the back of the house and this room. I’d know you have a trap baited here so I’d lie low, determine the Captain’s whereabouts if I could, and wait for dark.”
Josiah seemed pleased. “Good,” he said.
“Why good?”
“The trap is in the servants’ quarters. The Captain and two cadets are hidden there. And they could use your help.”
“Josiah, I should have known your plan wouldn’t be straightforward. You think in convolutions. Kathy. Will Kathy be all right?”
“This house is secure, she’ll be safe. Right now she needs dry clothes more than anything.”
Edward gripped the older man by the arm. “It’s good to see you again, Josiah. I want to talk when we have time.”
“We need to talk. But first, Jeb and Floyd.” Edward strode down the steps and across the dance floor. He slipped through the door and was gone. Without a word to me, without a gesture, Kathleen thought.
“Josiah…” she began tentatively. He tilted back until the chair creaked. “Josiah,” she said, looking down at him, “more happened than Edward told you. I feel differently toward him, not at all the way I did at first. I care so much for him, but I can’t tell how he feels about me. I, too, want to talk. I want you to tell me the truth about Edward.”
“The truth? Remember what I said back at Gleneden: never seek to uncover Edward’s past. When I saw the two of you together I knew, guessed at least, about you and Edward. Everything is new, and yet all remains the same. Yes, we’ll talk as soon as the question of the Captain is resolved. If it ever is.”
He shut his eyes and she saw the results of the demands of many years in the wrinkles on his face. So Josiah, too, became weary. Kathleen took one of his large hands in both of hers. She wanted to kneel and lay her head against him as, when she was younger, she had sought comfort from her father. She hesitated, the moment passed, and the impulse was lost.
“I’ll change my clothes,” she told him, releasing his hand and backing away.
“And rest,” he called after her.
In her room Kathleen put on a simple red-and-white-checked gingham frock which buttoned to the neck. She clasped her arms about herself and whirled around the room as she relished the freshness of the warm, dry clothes. What remained of the gray dress lay folded on the floor of the wardrobe. If only it were as easy to discard the memory of Floyd and the fire along with the clothes. And yet if they had not kidnapped her, if there had been no fire, Edward very well may have remained as aloof as he had been in the glen. The good mingled with the bad, like the light and dark interwove in Mrs. Ehrman’s patchwork quilt.
As she changed clothes, Kathleen had paused from time to time to peer through the rain-spattered window into the yard. Beneath the elm, the Captain’s horse impatiently pawed the earth. Otherwise the grounds were deserted. When she finished buttoning her shoes she took a last look, saw a movement in the brush behind the woodshed. She watched. The branches parted and two men, each with a revolver in hand, ran to the shelter of the shed. Jeb and Floyd.
They waited a few minutes then, crouched low, dashed to the side of the house beneath her window. Her breathing quickened. They were headed for the ballroom where Josiah sat alone. Although Kathleen pressed her face to the glass she could not see them because of the sill. She considered raising the window but did not for fear they would hear the noise.
She looked to where the ballroom jutted out from the rest of the house. Jeb arrived first, Floyd following. The two men examined the doorstep and the closed door itself. Floyd began to swing his leg over the railing. Jeb touched his shoulder and the older man paused. They whispered together. Kathleen’s breath misted the window so she rubbed the glass with her sleeve.
When she could see once more Jeb and Floyd were gone. The door to the ballroom remained closed. She clenched her hands close to her sides. Had they gone through the door in the few moments she had been unable to see? No. There they were, hurrying back into the shelter of the woods, dropping flat on the ground to lie motionless, heads turned to one another. Floyd rose first and ran, crouching behind the low shrubs, to disappear behind the barn. Jeb followed. The two men reappeared on the other side of the barn, sprinted the few feet to the door of the servants’ house. Josiah’s plan was working.
Floyd tried the door and she saw it open. A movement in the window above their heads, as though someone had released the curtain, caught her eye. Kathleen held her hand to her mouth. Jeb glanced up, extended his arm to caution Floyd. A sparrow swooped from under the eaves, circled about their heads, flew back to the roof again. Jeb shrugged and the two men entered the building.
Just as Kathleen relaxed a shot barked. She flung up the window, cautiously leaned out and felt the veil of rain wet her face. The horse neighed and pulled at his tether. She heard no other sound. She waited.
Floyd emerged first, then Jeb, hands above their heads. Charles, Edward, and two cadets followed, marching their captives toward the rear of the main house. No one appeared to be hurt.
Kathleen shut the window and ran from the room down the narrow circular staircase to the ballroom entrance. She stopped in the shadows just inside the door. Josiah, his back to her, was lighting another candle on the long table. Jeb and Floyd stood before him, hands now at their sides, the cadets flanking them, Edward and the Captain farther back near the French doors.
“Captain,” Josiah said, “come here.” Charles walked forward. “Your gun.” Josiah nodded to the table. Charles hesitated before laying his revolver beside one of the candleholders.
“Now we shall seek the truth,” Josiah said. “Are you willing?” he asked Charles.
“Willing? For what?”
&nb
sp; “You must stand trial.”
“For what crime?”
“The murder of Michael Donley.”
“I’ve already been court-martialed and acquitted.”
“In the eyes of the Army you’re innocent. To the world you’re guilty. Your own conscience seems to convict you. I’ll ask once more. Are you willing?”
Charles seemed to sag. “I’m willing.” He walked to the side of the room, lifted a chair from the gallery, and sat with his arms folded across his chest.
“You, of course, are the defendant,” Josiah said. “Jeb and Floyd will bear witness. Edward, will you be prosecutor? You’ll make a good devil’s advocate, don’t you think?” Edward nodded. “Our cadets will serve as bailiffs. Jeb, Floyd, do you agree to abide by the decision?”
“Who shall be the judge?” Jeb asked.
“I will,” Josiah said.
“Will there be a jury?”
“There will.”
Jeb looked about the room. “I see no Jurors here.”
Josiah turned slowly. Kathleen backed farther into the shadows.
“You will be the jury,” Josiah said, and she knew he saw her. He turned to the others. “Miss Kathleen Donley will decide the Captain’s fate.”
Chapter Seventeen
“Come over here into the light, Kathleen,” Josiah said. Reluctantly she obeyed, walking down the steps to his side. Was there no other way to discover the truth? she wondered.
Charles, face flushed, rose from his chair. “No,” he said, “I can’t agree to this—she’s too personally involved. I can never receive a fair hearing from the sister of Michael Donley.”
Jeb, ignoring Charles, put both hands on the table and leaned toward her. “Kathleen?” he asked in a puzzled voice. His eyes searched her face. “You’re not Kathleen, you’re Clarissa.”
“No, this is Kathleen Donley.” Josiah sounded impatient, as though he wanted to dispose of an unimportant detail. “You kidnapped the wrong woman.”
“You meant to harm Clarissa?” Charles’s tone was threatening.
“You brought her to this house for your private purposes.” Jeb smiled lewdly at him. “The story’s common gossip. I heard it last week in the taproom of the Storm King Arms. She’s naught but a slut.”
“You son of a bitch!” Charles lunged for Jeb but the two cadets jumped in front of him and pinioned his arms.
“Enough!” Josiah’s booming voice silenced them. “Captain, for God’s sake, sit down. First things first. You’re the defendant here, let your grievance with this man rest for the time being.”
“Damn him and his grievance,” Jeb snarled. He turned to Kathleen. “We agree with the good Captain on one point. We can’t have this girl judge him. She hates us, me and Floyd, we’re the ones what kept her prisoner.”
“Yet the Captain murdered her brother,” Josiah said calmly. “It seems she’s equally unacceptable to both sides. I, for one, think her decision would be as fair as we’re likely to get this side of the grave. Do either of you have an alternative?”
Jeb and Floyd whispered together. Charles, hands clasped behind him, stared out the window. Rain lashed the house. The day had darkened and Kathleen saw their shadows dance grotesquely on the walls. Had the masquerade ball been only two days ago? With a pang she remembered the cadet, who now lay dead in this same room, whirling past with the blonde girl in his arms, recalled Edward strutting in his black prince’s costume. If she could put Michael’s ghost to rest, would she and Edward be free? Was his unfinished mission for Josiah making him vacillate?
“Let me speak.” Kathleen looked between the flickering candles at Charles, spoke to his back. She felt annoyed. All of them seemed to assume she would do whatever they wished. “I don’t want to judge you, Charles,” she said. “I want nothing more than to be done with this affair. We must have done with it before we’re all destroyed.”
She looked from the Captain to Jeb, her voice choking. “We’re being torn apart, Charles, you and I, even Jeb and Floyd. Let me try to find out what happened, let me judge the Captain’s guilt. I beg you.”
Kathleen’s hand went to her mouth. Surprised by her boldness, she felt a blush spread to her neck and face. Josiah stepped to her side and put his hand on her arm. “Are we agreed then?” he asked quickly. “Captain?”
“Agreed.” Charles’s voice was low and muffled. He still faced the windows.
“Jeb? Floyd?”
Both men nodded.
Josiah sighed. “Then let us begin. First, I’d like a word with our advocate.” He held Edward by the arm and they talked, Josiah gesturing with his free hand, Edward nodding.
“Bailiff,” Josiah called one of the cadets. “Could we have some more chairs? Two here behind the table for Miss. Donley and myself. Good. Put the witness chair there across from us at right angles. The rest in a row behind the witness. Excellent.”
Josiah sat in an over-sized armchair. “We’ll begin with the accusers. Jeb? Floyd?” Jeb walked to the witness chair.
“Both me and Floyd fought at Rock Creek,” he said, “but Floyd was with Captain Pierson chasing a Cheyenne hunting party. They were ten miles away during the battle.”
“What battle?” Charles spun to face him. “Massacre would be a better word.”
“Captain, sit down.” Josiah’s eyes sparked with anger. “Another interruption and I’ll have you taken upstairs. You’ll have your opportunity to testify.” He looked at Jeb. “Did you see what happened?”
“Yes, sir.”
Josiah leaned forward. Kathleen, sitting beside him, saw the candlelight glow on his dark face, recalled sitting across from him in his study at Gleneden,but unlike that time she now felt comfortable in his presence. His mottled brown eyes gazed directly into Jeb’s. “You will tell the truth,” he directed. “The complete truth as you lived it.” The young man, fixed by the hypnotic stare, nodded.
“All right, Counsel.” Josiah leaned back with arms folded. Edward, face turned so it was half in shadow, stood facing the witness. A two-day growth of beard blackened his cheeks and jaw. Kathleen had to force her eyes from him.
“Your name?” Edward asked.
“Jebediah Brewster.”
“Age?”
“Twenty-four.”
“Occupation?”
“Corporal, U.S. Cavalry, Ohio Volunteers.”
Jeb sat erect, as though at attention. His replies were quick, clipped, and unembellished, like the answers of a well-drilled soldier to an officer. At times, when thinking, he ran his hand over his light brown hair.
He described his enlistment two years before, his training at Fort Riley, and his duty on the plains. His dealings with the Indians had been brief and infrequent. “Our job’s to fight them,” he told Edward. “They’re filthy, lying, thieving heathens.”
His cavalry company had come upon a stage station a few hours after Cheyennes burned the buildings and murdered the agent. “I was sick,” he said, his voice rising. “Puked in a ditch along the trail. I thought the men would laugh at me. Nobody did. They must have felt the same way.”
Edward led Jeb to his assignment at Fort Dodge, Kansas. “The Indians were attacking the stage stations,” he said, “ambushing the coaches, running off stock, forcing the freight wagons to corral and fight. The Dog Soldiers, that’s what the young Cheyenne braves called themselves, were the troublemakers.
“Then the new major arrived. Major Curtis. ‘My rule,’ he said, ‘is to fight Indians until they lay down their arms and submit.’ The men, tired of inaction, cheered.”
The cavalry raid on the Indian camp at Rock Creek came in October. They left the fort shortly after dark and rode all night across the plains.
“We attacked at dawn,” Jeb said. “The major formed us into a line front. The Cheyennes had camped in a bend of the creek, which was mostly dry that t
ime of year. We charged, bugles blowing, over the streambed. I didn’t see no guards. Not like Cheyennes not to post guards. The Indians came running from their tepees, seeming surprised.
“One of them came to meet us, holding his hands over his head calling, ‘Stop, stop,’ in plain English. When we kept riding ahead he stood still and folded his arms. We shot him down. We were all firing then and the Indians ran back into the tepees for their rifles. Their firing was scattered, though.”
“Did any of the other Indians try to stop the fighting?” Edward asked.
“One did, I guess. A chief he must have been. His tepee was higher than the rest. He raised a big American flag on a pole and a lot of the women gathered around him. Then he ran up a white flag below the American one.”
“Did the cavalry parley?”
“You don’t understand how it was. We were in the camp shooting, the Indians firing back, powder smoke everywhere. There wasn’t no time to think or talk, just fight.”
“When did you first see Captain Worthington?”
“He weren’t in the main attack, his company formed the line cutting off the Indians’ retreat. I chased one of the braves, he was on foot, overrode him and he slipped off into the underbrush along the creek. I couldn’t find him. By then I was separated from our main party. I come to the top of this small hill, saw the smoke of the camp to my right, then off to the left I seen the Captain. He seemed to be hollering at one of his men.”
“How far away was he?”
“’Bout a hundred yards.”
“Go on.”
“The man turned from the Captain. He was on foot, the Captain mounted, both of them sort of apart from the rest of the company. The others were riding this way and that, chasing down Indians, firing at them. The Captain had his revolver out and the man swung toward him, there was maybe ten yards between them, and I thought he yelled something at the Captain and I saw a flash from the Captain’s gun and the man fell. Dropped, didn’t move at all. I reckoned he was dead right then. Later I found he died the next day.”