by Cindy Kelley
“Sorry, sir. Private Westland. Since you’re not in uniform I didn’t know …”
Elijah waved away the apology. “I need to send a telegram to my commander. Can you do that?”
“Yes, sir. Right away.”
Westland rummaged under the counter for some paper and a pencil. “Ready.”
“Put it to the attention of Post Commander James J. Gordon. ‘Request to extend my leave by one month. Stop. Present location Fort Donelson, Tennessee. Stop. Captain Elijah Hale. Stop.’”
“I’ll send it right away, sir,” Westland said.
Elijah looked around. “The place seems pretty quiet. How many men are here?”
“Five of us, sir,” he replied. “Lieutenant Brewer is our ranking officer. Would you like me to get him?”
Elijah shook his head. “Not necessary, Private. Just send the message.”
Westland turned from the counter, but Elijah stopped him. “Before you go, I’m wondering if you can provide me with a map of this part of Tennessee and the north part of Kentucky.”
“I believe we’ve got some maps here somewhere.” West ducked under the counter. “They’re a couple of years old, though.” He brought out three maps and put them on the counter, shoving Elijah’s papers aside.
“Here you are, sir. I’ll just go send that—”
Something of Elijah’s seemed to have caught Westland’s eye. Elijah followed the private’s gaze to the photograph of Mercy.
“Private?”
Westland looked stricken. “She’s beautiful.”
“She’s missing,” Elijah said.
“Excuse the impertinence, sir, but is she your wife?”
Elijah shook his head. “No. She’s a young woman who has been acquitted of a crime. But she’s still in danger from some unscrupulous men who want to see her pay for her allegiance during the war.”
The young private’s eyes were still glued to Mercy’s image.
“Do you recognize her?”
Westland finally looked up. “No,” he said quickly. “Never seen her before. What’d she do anyway?”
“It doesn’t matter now. As I said, she was acquitted.”
“Yes, sir. Let me send that wire for you,” West said. “The telegraph is in the next room. Be right back.”
West closed the door behind himself and tried not to panic. He was headed to the telegraph machine when he ran into Stern.
“Hey! There’s a captain out there who has a photograph of Mercy. He’s looking for her—and it sounds like he ain’t the only one.”
“Did he say what she did?”
“No.”
“You didn’t tell him she’s here, did you?” Stern demanded.
“Of course not. Give me some credit, will ya?” West arched a brow. “The little lady is finally getting well enough to be a decent companion. Nobody’s taking her away from us. Who’s got the watch right now?”
“Brewer,” Stern said. “The lieutenant never misses his turn.”
“Keep her quiet and out of sight,” West said.
Stern hustled away and West made his way to the telegraph. In just a few minutes, he was pushing back into the receiving room, where the captain stood perusing the maps.
“All set, sir. Telegram’s been sent to Fort Wallace.” West smiled. “Safe travels.”
“I need to see the requisitions clerk, Private,” Captain Hale said.
West fought the urge to curse. “You’re looking at him, sir.”
“I could use some fresh jerky, hardtack … wouldn’t mind some potatoes if you can spare them,” Captain Hale said. “Any fruit you might have on the post would be appreciated.”
West shook his head. “No fruit at all, sir. But I can get the other items for you and have Private Stern bring them out.”
The captain made his way back out the door, and West felt his heart rate slow to nearly normal. He needed to get the supplies and get the captain on his way. And the sooner, the better.
While their horses ate, Isaac stood against the corral fence and watched as a private curried one horse after another. He moved next to a chestnut, but the horse didn’t want any part of the grooming. He snorted, bucked, tossed his head in a manner that had the private backing up and moving on to another horse.
Isaac walked toward them. “Guessing he don’t like attention.”
The private snorted. “He don’t like nothing. Ornery cuss.”
The private turned back to his task and Isaac made his way closer to the obstinate horse. “He take a saddle?”
“What’s it to ya?”
Isaac shook his head. “Nothin’.”
Isaac approached the restless horse from the side. When he got to within an arm’s reach, the chestnut turned and eyed him. He flared his nostrils, snorted, then turned his head to shove his nose right into Isaac’s outstretched hand. Isaac moved closer and stroked his nose. When he spoke, it was in a voice meant only for the horse.
“It is you,” Isaac said. He trailed his fingers over the white markings on the bay’s nose. “Hello, boy. Hello, Lucky. Where be your lady?”
Lucky nickered softly under Isaac’s caresses.
“Hey … step back from that horse.” The private frowned at Isaac. “He’s unpredictable.”
“He be fine wit’ me,” Isaac said. “Maybe he don’t know you too good.”
“Don’t be sassy with me, boy,” the private said. “Just step away from him.”
Isaac did as he asked but was happy to see Elijah striding toward them. He hurried out of the corral and rushed to his side.
“I can’t believe it, Cap’n,” Isaac said excitedly. “We done found Miss Mercy.”
Elijah stopped. “What are you talking about?”
Isaac nodded in the direction of the horses. “Dat dark chestnut over there. Dat her horse, Lucky. If he here, den I figure she here. You didn’t see her?”
“No.” Elijah cut his gaze to the private who seemed to be watching the two of them. He lowered his voice. “Are you sure about this?”
“Yassuh, I am. I be the one who took care of Lucky when Miss Mercy stayed at da cottage. He was a mean cuss to ever’one but me and Miss Mercy. Lucky was dat color with da black mane and one white sock. You look at his nose and you see he got a star ’tween his eyes and a stripe that got a break in it halfway down. That is Lucky. And he knowed me.”
Isaac followed Elijah into the corral. The private working in the corral crossed the fifteen feet it took to join them.
“I’m Captain Hale,” Elijah said.
The private snapped off a salute. “Private Stanley Mitchell, sir.”
Elijah returned the salute. “I appreciate the food and water for our horses.”
“No problem, sir. Plenty of oats here to go around,” Mitchell said.
Elijah nodded. “Good. Too many animals suffered the effects of the war.”
“Darn shame,” Mitchell said.
“That chestnut looks like he could use a little fattening up, though,” Elijah said, pointing to Lucky.
“He’s only been on post about a week or so,” Mitchell said. “Cantankerous cuss, but he’s learning where the food comes from.”
“Got your supplies here, Captain.”
Another private came toward them with his arms full of supplies. “Private Westland said you were ready to head out, so I’ll get these packed up for you, sir.”
Mitchell hurried toward him. “Lemme give you a hand, Jake.”
Mitchell grabbed some of the supplies and headed toward Elijah’s horse.
Elijah stepped in front of the new private before he could follow. “How long have you been assigned here at the fort, Private?”
“It’s Private Stern, sir. About eight months.”
“I was wondering how long that horse has been on post
. The chestnut.”
“I, uh … couldn’t tell you, sir. This is Private Mitchell’s domain.”
Elijah nodded. “Handsome horse.”
“Yes, sir,” Stern said. “Let me help get you packed up …”
“I’ve had a change of heart, Private,” Elijah said. “I could use a bed and a good night’s sleep. I assume you have room?”
“Let me go find Lieutenant Brewer for you, Captain.”
Mitchell was back. He looked at Stern. “You’re holding up the captain with all this chitchat, Stern. I’m sure he wants to get on his way …”
“Actually, he’s staying,” Stern said. “I was just going to find the lieutenant and let him know.”
“I don’t know that we have a room for your … for the … Wouldn’t be right to put a colored boy in the officer’s quarters, sir,” Private Mitchell said.
Elijah looked at Isaac. “That does pose a problem, Isaac.”
“I’m sure you figure it out, Cap’n,” Isaac said. “After all you is a problem solver.”
Elijah nodded. “I’ll see about where we can put you. In the meantime, stay here with the horses. This gives you some time to check on their saddles, their shoes. We want them in great condition to ride. I like to be prepared. You understand?”
“Yassuh. I believe I do,” Isaac said.
Isaac watched as Elijah led the way back to the building with the two privates right on his heels.
Chapter Seven
Mercy knew two things when the private called West came to get her. First, he seemed agitated, worried about something. And second, she could see he was carrying her journal. The latter took the air right out of her lungs and made her feel even weaker than she already felt.
She had been out of bed a few times to take care of basic needs, but she was dismayed at her lack of strength. She had no choice but to lean heavily on West as he hurried her along.
“What’s happening?” she asked.
“Just moving you for safekeeping.”
“Safekeeping from who?”
“Never mind.”
But suddenly she knew. They’d found her. The bounty hunters had somehow tracked her down—and the soldiers had read her journal. They knew she was running.
They stopped at a locked room, and West produced a key from his pocket. He unlocked the door and brought her inside.
Late afternoon sun poured into the room from a single window. There were boxes and crates, papers, and large portraits leaning against the wall. A Confederate flag draped over a chair caught her eye.
“What is this?”
“Losers’ room,” West said.
He turned one of the crates over, dumping the contents unceremoniously out onto the floor.
“Sit here.”
He plunked her down on the crate, and she was happy to be off her feet. She hated feeling so weak and dependent, but was grateful that the men were obviously trying to keep her safe from the bounty hunters by hiding her away.
“Thank you for—” Her words were cut off when he suddenly put a piece of cloth across her mouth. The action was so surprising, she didn’t have time to react before he tied it tightly behind her head. She shook her head, tried to speak, but he had already moved on to binding her wrists together.
“You’ll stay quiet and still until I come back for you,” he said, leaning down to her face. “Understand?”
She shook her head, but he just smiled and tossed her journal at her feet. “Great reading, by the way.”
He left her alone, and she heard the lock of the door engage. Why would they feel the need to bind and gag her when she didn’t want the bounty hunters to find her any more than they did? West’s actions made no sense.
She worked the gag from her mouth, but the knot in the rope around her wrists was too tight to free. Trying to tamp down her rising fear, she let her gaze roam over the room. The Losers’ Room. She had come to the fort looking for something—records—anything that might jog her memory or help her on the path toward home, and now it seemed she was steeped in all things Confederate.
She struggled to her feet and made her way toward the crates of files. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the piles. She began to rifle through the stacks of paper, not an easy task with her tightly bound wrists. She read name after name, but in just a few minutes, she realized the idea that some name or date would jog her memory was a long shot at best. Her hope gave out at the same time her legs did, and she sank to the floor.
She had no idea what was happening outside the door. What if the soldiers who’d seemed so kind and nursed her back to health had thrown in their lot with the bounty hunters for the money? Scooting along the floor, she made her way back to the place where her journal lay and put her back against the wall. At least she would see them coming if they burst through the door. She wondered what she could use for a weapon if it came to that, and she took another longer look around the room. And that’s when she saw it. The thing she’d been waiting to find; the moment that made her feel as if she had existed before the day her memory left. She stared at a portrait leaning against the opposite wall. He was a handsome man in full colonel’s uniform. Dark hair, strong chin—midforties, maybe. But it was his eyes that drew Mercy in and made her feel as if she knew this man. For the first time in over a year, she was gazing on a familiar face.
Elijah, who’d been left waiting at the counter in the receiving room, was just about to go touring the place on his own when a young lieutenant entered.
“Captain Hale? I’m Lieutenant Brewer. My men tell me we’re going to have the pleasure of your company here tonight.”
“I’ve waited so long I was beginning to believe it might be a problem for you,” Elijah said.
“Not at all. I’m sorry about the wait. Private Westland is making up a room for you. Our visitors are few and far between. In fact, you’re the first unfamiliar face we’ve seen in more than two months.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes. And usually when someone comes through they’re in a hurry to get to Dover, or wherever they’re headed.”
“I’m in no hurry,” Elijah said. “Got a month of leave coming to me and I intend to use every last day.”
Brewer smiled. “Lucky you.”
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to see my quarters now,” Elijah said.
Brewer hesitated. “I’m not sure that Westland has it ready …”
“I’ve seen my share of bare mattresses, Lieutenant.”
“Of course. This way,” Brewer said. He turned and Elijah followed him through the door on the opposite wall and stepped into the common area.
Private Westland was halfway across the room when Brewer stopped him.
“Did you take care of everything … for the captain?”
West nodded. “All taken care of, Lieutenant. The quarters are ready.”
They moved toward the row of rooms on the other side of the common area. Brewer led him to a closed door.
“Here we are, Captain,” he said. He opened the door and gestured for Elijah to enter first. But Elijah barely stuck his head in the door.
“It’s fine, Lieutenant,” he said.
“Good. Now, the men tell me you’re traveling with a Negro boy? If you’re not opposed, we’ve got a small barn on the property. It would keep him warm and—”
Elijah interrupted him. “I’d like a tour of the place. Maybe we’ll find a more suitable place for Isaac.”
“I assure you, Captain, the rest of the rooms are in use, and—”
Elijah walked to the door next to the officer’s quarters. “Let’s start here.”
He opened the door to reveal Private Stern and another man he’d never seen before. “Can we help you, sir?” Stern asked.
“The captain is just having a look around the place,” Brewer said. “Priv
ate Marvin? Go tell Westland that he’ll need to make a little more chow tonight.”
“Sure thing, Lieutenant,” Marvin said, hustling past Elijah into the common room.
Elijah walked to the next closed door. “More enlisted quarters?”
Brewer shook his head. “No. That would be mine.” He reached past Elijah and opened the door. “Please. Have a look.”
Elijah stuck his head into the sparely furnished room. A cot with a wool blanket spread over the top. A desk with several books, the makings for cigarettes, and a single window with heavy wooden shutters.
They continued down the row of doors with Elijah opening each one until they reached the end. Brewer smiled. “End of the tour. Nothing too exciting.”
Elijah looked down a long hallway, then started that direction, leaving the common room behind. “What about down here?”
Brewer hurried after him. “Nothing of interest.”
Elijah arrived at another door. “And this is?”
“Just a storage room,” Brewer said. “I’ve never been in there, but I’m told it’s filled with old Confederate papers … service records, portraits, a few diaries from some generals who we now know couldn’t fight their way out of a schoolyard brawl. We call it the losers’ room.”
“I’d like to see inside,” Elijah said.
“Sorry. Door’s locked and we don’t have the key,” Brewer said.
“I want the key to that door, Lieutenant.”
“I don’t have it.”
“I suppose I don’t have to have a key.” Elijah drew his pistol from the holster and leveled it at the door lock.
“Wait!” Brewer said. “I’m responsible for any damage that’s done here. Let me see if I can find the key.”
Elijah nodded. “I’d appreciate that.”
Brewer scurried back down the hall. Elijah watched until he disappeared from view, then shot the lock off the door.
Mercy sat against the wall, eyes wide, knees drawn up defensively when he came through the door. He could see the conflicting emotions playing out in her eyes as he crossed the room toward her.
He knelt. “Mercy. Are you all right?”
She stared at him and he realized he looked quite different from the last time she’d seen him. His hair was long, he was bearded, and he wasn’t in uniform.