Finding Mercy

by Cindy Kelley

  “Elijah?” she finally sputtered. “What are you doing here?”

  “You first.” He untied her wrists and helped her to stand. Her journal fell to the floor and he retrieved it.

  “I was ill when I arrived. The men have been taking care of me … helping me get my strength back.”

  “By tying you up and locking the door?”

  She frowned and shook her head. “I don’t know. They had my journal … brought me in here. I don’t understand …”

  “We stopped for supplies. Been looking for you.”

  “I thought maybe the bounty hunters had tracked me down again,” she said.

  “Isaac saw Lucky in the corral,” he said. “They denied ever seeing you.”

  She frowned. “Why?”

  “We need to get you out of here.”

  “Yes. All right. But first, look at that man.” She pointed to the portrait leaning against the wall. “Is he someone famous? Someone I should know?”

  “No. Never seen him before.”

  “I’m almost sure I have. It’s the first face I can ever remember feeling as if I know him.”

  Elijah handed her the journal and his gun. “Keep it trained on the door.”

  “I don’t think I need to—”

  “Just do it.”

  She did as he directed while he pulled a knife from his pocket and hurried to the portrait. He slipped the blade under the brass nameplate on the bottom of the frame and popped it off. Then after tucking it into his pocket, he took the revolver back. He could see how unsteady she was—and how weak.

  “Can you make it?”

  She nodded. “I think so.”

  “Stay behind me and stick close,” he said.

  They made their way along the deserted hallway outside the storage room. The only noise in the place was from their footsteps.

  When they arrived in the common room, Elijah thumbed back the hammer of his revolver.

  “They’ve been nothing but nice to me until just a bit ago,” she whispered.

  “And yet no one came to check on you when they heard a gunshot?”

  She frowned. He motioned for her to keep following him across the room, which was just as devoid of people as the hallway.

  Elijah led the way to the door that would take them into the reception room and then outdoors. He pushed through with Mercy on his heels—and came face to face with Lieutenant Brewer and his four men. Elijah wasn’t the only one who was armed.

  Brewer gestured with his own gun. “Put down your weapon, Captain.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Mercy shook her head. “What’s going on here? Why the guns? Why tie me up?”

  “Do you know this man, Mercy?” The question came from West, who also had a gun trained on Elijah.

  “Yes. His name is Captain Elijah Hale.”

  “He could be forcing you to say that,” Brewer told her.

  Mercy frowned. “No, he’s not. I know him.”

  “You looked right at the image I have of her and said you’d never seen her before,” Elijah said to West.

  “That’s right,” West said. “I was protecting her.”

  “You saw my orders. Could see I was an officer in the army,” Elijah said.

  “There are unscrupulous officers,” West said.

  “We know she has men after her. And we had no idea what your intentions were,” Brewer said.

  Elijah looked at him. “I think I can guess yours.”

  “She arrived in bad shape.” This from Stern. “We’ve been nursing her back to health.”

  “That’s right,” Marvin said. “That’s all we were doing.”

  “No ulterior motives here,” Mitchell said.

  “Shut up, Mitchell,” Brewer said. “No one said anything about …”

  “We’re leaving now,” Elijah said.

  “You got nothing on us, Captain,” Brewer said. “This little incident is exactly what we said.”

  Elijah nodded. “You were just protecting her.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Do you tie up every woman you protect?”

  Brewer lowered his gun. “Just go.”

  “They have my gun,” Mercy said to Elijah.

  “The lady would like her weapon back,” Elijah said.

  West lowered his gun but didn’t move. It was Stern who hustled around the counter and retrieved the pistol.

  Mercy swayed on her feet, then braced herself with a hand on the counter.

  “You all right?”

  “I’m … fine.”

  “Any fool can sees she’s not fully recovered yet,” Brewer said. “As I said, we were taking care of her …”

  Elijah slipped an arm around her waist. “Real heroes. You should be proud.”

  They didn’t move a muscle as Elijah helped her from the room. Outside, he whistled shrilly, and Isaac came from the direction of the corral, riding one horse and leading two others. He grinned when he saw Mercy.

  “I am mighty happy to see you, Miss Mercy,” Isaac said.

  “I’m happy to see you, too, Isaac,” she said.

  She took a moment to run her hand down Lucky’s nose, then leaned close as if she could get strength just by being near him. She held the journal out for Elijah. “Could you put this in my saddlebag?”

  Elijah opened the bag, shoved the book inside.

  Her countenance was of relief and extreme weariness. “If someone will just help me into the saddle …”

  “You’ll ride with me,” Elijah said.

  “No,” she said. “I’m perfectly capable of riding my own horse.”

  “You’re not in any shape to ride,” he said. “You’ll ride with me.”

  “I think I should know if I’m strong enough,” she said, even as she grabbed Lucky’s bridle.

  Elijah led his horse next to Mercy and unceremoniously took her arm. “You’re coming up. I wouldn’t fight it.”

  In spite of her pride, Mercy couldn’t help but lean against Elijah as they rode away from the fort, past artillery that sat like silent sentries, and away from acres of grave markers that told of lost love and lost lives.

  Chapter Eight

  It was just before sunset when they rode into Dover, Tennessee. In spite of her objections to riding with Elijah, Mercy knew she wouldn’t have been able to hang on in the saddle alone. She was physically done in, and all she could think of was sleep.

  Elijah led the way to the Dover Hotel in the center of town. He dismounted, then helped Mercy from the horse. Isaac, holding fast to Lucky’s reins, stayed in his own saddle.

  “What’choo want me to do, Cap’n?” Isaac asked.

  “Let me get Miss Mercy settled in a room and I’ll be back to help with the horses,” he said.

  “I don’t have money to pay for a room,” Mercy said.

  “I do,” Elijah said.

  “I’m not going to take your—”

  She swayed on her feet and Elijah slipped an arm around her. “Quit talking.”

  He led her to a wooden bench in front of the white clapboard two-story hotel. “Sit here,” he admonished. “Don’t move.”

  He shot a glance at Isaac. “Watch her.” Then he disappeared inside.

  Isaac dismounted, tied the horses to a post, and went to sit down beside Mercy. “S’cuze me fo’ sayin’ so, Miss Mercy, but you ain’t lookin’ so good.”

  “I feel about how I look,” she said. She put her head back against the wood of the building and closed her eyes.

  “It’s been a rough couple weeks, Isaac.”

  “You ain’t gonna run again, are you?”

  “No,” Mercy said. “Even walking sounds like too much right now.”

  Just a few minutes later, Elijah was leading her past the inter
ior desk of the hotel, up a flight of stairs and depositing her in a room for the night. She said only two words as she crossed over the threshold into the room. “Thank you.”

  “Lock it,” he said.

  The door closed and she started toward the bed when she heard his gruff voice from outside.

  “I said lock it.”

  She turned the lock, crawled into bed, and was asleep almost before her head hit the pillow.

  Mercy was awake when she heard a knock on the door the next morning. She felt much more rested, a little stronger, and she was rehearsing her “Thank you for your help, but I’m perfectly capable of going on alone” speech to Elijah when she opened the door and found him standing there with breakfast.

  “I brought food,” he said.

  She stepped back into the room. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  He walked in with a brown bag, and she could smell the aroma of cinnamon buns. “You’re not hungry?”

  “That smells delicious.”

  “They taste even better.”

  She sat down on the edge of the bed and tucked into the breakfast. She could feel him watching, and though she knew it shouldn’t, it irritated her. She looked up. “What?”

  He shook his head. “Just thinking that you look a sight better this morning than you did yesterday.”

  “I feel better,” she said. “I’m not sure if I thanked you for coming to get me.”

  “You did.”

  “Those men weren’t going to stay gentlemen toward me, were they?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  She shuddered with the thought. “I wonder if I’ll ever be a proper judge of people.”

  He didn’t answer her question, but instead, he asked one of his own. “Why did you say you thought it was the bounty hunters—again?”

  “They nearly caught me in Salem,” she said, stuffing the last morsel of the bun into her mouth. “I was at a boardinghouse. I needed to rest, so I took a room.”

  “That was taking quite a chance,” he said.

  “Honestly, I was so tired I didn’t have a choice. And I hadn’t actually seen them in the two weeks since … since—”

  “Since you snuck away while Isaac and I slept?”

  “I left a note.”

  “So you did. Tell me about the bounty hunters,” he said.

  “I think there were three or four men. They broke into the boardinghouse in the middle of the night. I heard them and managed to crawl out the window and onto the roof before they got into my room.”

  “Obviously they didn’t find you.”

  “One of them did. But he … slipped off the roof. He must have died before he could tell the others I was in the chimney.”

  He raised his brows, as if he hadn’t heard her correctly. “Where?”

  “Inside the chimney,” she said. “I stayed there the rest of the night. When I came out, they were gone.”

  “Seems strange they left—even if they lost a man.”

  “It was a young man. And I found out later he was the son of one of the others.”

  Elijah rubbed his knuckles against the stubble on his chin. “You haven’t seen them since?”

  “No. But then again, I was busy trying not to die from food poisoning.”

  “You were foolish to leave us behind and strike out on your own.”

  “You’re the one who told me I was in the war. If I managed that, I can take care of myself.”

  “Clearly,” he said. The sarcastic tone wasn’t lost on her.

  “We aren’t in Missouri anymore. Why are you still following me?”

  “I made a commitment to the court.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “A man of high principles.”

  “How soon can you be ready to go?”

  “I think I’m fine to go on alone,” she said.

  “Is that right?”

  She nodded. “Yes. I … appreciate your help, but I’m fine now. If I hadn’t been so sick, I would have never gotten myself into that situation at the fort.”

  He studied her. “I didn’t come all this way and spend all this time looking for you to ride away now. We’re going with you.”

  “I don’t want you to.” She was aware that she was almost shouting now, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.

  “Why not?”

  “I look at you and see all I’ve lost. It makes me hate you a little …”

  “How soon can you be ready to go?”

  “It might even make me hate you a lot!”

  “Once we check out, we can go to the livery for Isaac and—”

  “Where is Isaac?”

  “Isaac is with the horses.”

  “But I thought he stayed here last night?”

  Elijah shook his head. “Haven’t found a place yet that will rent to a Negro.”

  “So he slept in the livery with the horses?”

  Elijah drew his brows together. “Yes. He was fine—”

  “You and I slept in our rooms, in soft comfortable beds, while you made that boy sleep with the animals?” She was incensed and strangely happy about her indignation. “Isaac has sacrificed to come and find me and this is how he’s repaid?”

  “I’m giving the hotel manager back the key. We’re leaving now,” he said.

  He turned, and she followed him out of the room. They started down the stairs.

  “I don’t know why I expected more from you,” she said.

  She stumbled. He caught her, kept a hand on her elbow as they continued down the steps and stopped at the front desk. Elijah addressed the clerk.

  “Can you tell me where the county courthouse is?”

  “Why the courthouse?” Mercy asked.

  “It’s a half mile down the road on your left, sir,” the clerk said.

  “Thank you.” Elijah slid a key across the counter. “The key to number seven.”

  The clerk smiled. “Thank you, sir.” He looked at Mercy. “I trust you were comfortable, ma’am?”

  She nodded, distractedly. “Yes.”

  Elijah turned to go. “Wait,” she said. “What about your room key?”

  “Doesn’t require a key or a fee to sit in a chair outside a room all night,” the clerk said.

  She looked toward Elijah, who had already walked out the door, then turned her attention back to the clerk.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  He smiled. “Yes, of course.”

  “Do you rent rooms to Negroes?”

  “No, ma’am, we do not. Nor, for that matter, does any hotel in Dover.”

  Chapter Nine

  Mercy’s head of steam and all her righteous anger left her flat. She made her way to the door of the hotel and stepped outside. Elijah was leaning against a post waiting for her.

  “We are going with you,” he said.

  “Fine. But I hate the thought that you see me as incompetent.”

  “I thought you hated the thought of me.”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Fair enough,” he said.

  “And just so you know, I was told Fort Donelson was a Confederate fort. I thought they might have records or something to jog my memory.”

  “The South built it, but the North took it in ’62,” he said.

  “I know that now,” she said. “I believed those men wanted nothing more than to help me.”

  “Things aren’t always what they seem,” he said. “Nor are people.”

  “Does that include bounty hunters?” she asked.

  “Yes, I would say so,” he said. “You’d be hard pressed to figure out who might be a bounty hunter in a roomful of people.”

  “Do you know who put the bounty on my head?”

  “No, but it was obviously someone who didn’t be
lieve your sentence to hang should have been commuted. Someone who had the connections to put a posse together within a few hours of hearing you were to be freed.”

  “I still don’t have any idea where to go,” she admitted. “I had hoped to find something at the fort. Something that might trigger a memory.”

  He dug into his pocket and produced the brass nameplate he took from the portrait in the storage room. “You did.” He studied it. “Does the name John Chapman mean anything to you?”

  “John Chapman,” she murmured. She sighed and shook her head. “Not the name—but his face. Those eyes. I could swear I’ve seen him before.”

  “It’s common to have portraits painted of commanding officers who served the post. Perhaps he was your commanding officer at one time.”

  “How do we find out?”

  “We’ll go to the courthouse and see what they have on John Chapman. It might not be much—or it may turn out to be everything. At any rate, it’s a place to start.”

  “You spent the night sitting in a chair outside my room?” she asked.

  “I’ve slept in worse places,” he said.

  “Isaac was happy to stay with the horses?”

  “He’s slept in worse places too.”

  “Should we bring Isaac some breakfast before we go to the courthouse?”

  “He’s already enjoyed two cinnamon buns and some hot tea.”

  “Do you enjoy seeing me squirm like this?”

  “I won’t deny it’s been the better part of my morning so far,” he said. “Let’s go to the courthouse.”

  The Stewart County courthouse was a short walk from the Dover Hotel. Though Elijah offered to go and get the horses, Mercy insisted she was all right. The exercise and the sunshine would do her good.

  They made their way up the wide steps of the red brick building and Mercy noticed a sign tacked up outside the door: Whites only. She looked at Elijah.

  “This is why Isaac isn’t with us?”

  He nodded. “Let’s go see about John Chapman.”

  The clerk at the counter ran a finger down columns of names, then shook his head. “Nope. Sorry. No John Chapman mentioned here.”