by Cindy Kelley
“What exactly did you remember, dear?”
“A song. A song from the jewelry box Father gave me. I can hum it. I did hum it before I even heard it!”
“She did,” Victoria said, “I heard her!” The two sisters exchanged a pleased look.
“That’s wonderful, Char,” Beau said.
“That is wonderful,” Elijah echoed. Charlotte turned to look at him, her face radiant with joy.
“I know it seems like a small thing … but to me it means the world. It means maybe things aren’t locked away forever. Maybe I’ll start to remember more.”
“We can only hope,” Mother said. “Thank you for sharing your news, dear. Now I’ll say good night.”
Charlotte smiled again. “Good night, Mother.”
Beau came forward, kissed her cheek. “Wonderful news.”
“Thank you, Beau.”
“I love when evenings end on a happy note,” Victoria said, then giggled. “Or on a music box note.”
Charlotte grew serious. “Thank you for giving it back to me. What a wonderful gift it turned out to be.”
Victoria nodded. Her glance took in both Elijah and Charlotte. “Good night.”
Elijah and Charlotte were suddenly alone. He studied her in the soft light. She looked radiant; her long dark hair cascaded around her shoulders, a dark contrast to her ivory robe. He had the fleeting thought that women always tried so hard to be dressed and primped and frilly, and here was a woman in a robe and she probably had no idea how lovely she was.
“I’m so happy for you,” he said.
She smiled. “I hope you weren’t sleeping when I came out heralding my news.”
“No,” he said. “In fact, I’m glad we have this opportunity to say good-bye. I didn’t get a chance earlier. There were so many people, you were busy … I couldn’t get Victoria to stop dancing …”
She smiled. “She is smitten with you, I’m afraid.”
“I hope I didn’t do anything to encourage that …”
“You exist. Apparently that’s enough,” she said. She grew serious. “I planned to be up to see you off in the morning.”
“I saw Isaac earlier today. He offered to get my horse ready for me. I’m hoping to be gone by dawn. It’s late and there’s no need for you to get up so early.”
“Oh. All right, then.”
“I enjoyed this evening very much,” he said. “I’m happy I stayed. And I’m glad I got to hear the news of your first actual memory.”
“I’m glad too.” She studied him. “I think it’s finally time for me to thank you for everything—and I do mean everything. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”
“I hope it all works out for you with your family,” he said.
“Thank you. I hope so too.” She stepped toward him. “I won’t ever forget you, Elijah.” She rose up on her bare toes and kissed his cheek.
He thought a lot more about memories now than he did before meeting the woman before him. Elijah prayed the picture she made, looking like a vision in that softly lit hallway, would be remembered for a very long time.
“You take good care of yourself, Charlotte Chapman.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Juba was busy in the kitchen at dawn when Isaac came through the door. She turned and put a hand on her hip.
“I don’t care for strangers comin’ in mah kitchen, boy,” she said. “What’s yo’ bi’ness?”
“I’m Isaac,” he said. “I come here with Miss Charlotte?”
Juba nodded slowly. “I know who you are.”
“Then I guess I ain’t no stranger.”
“Hmmph. You got a mouth on ya.”
Isaac sidled a little closer. “Mr. Elijah be leaving today, and he ask me to get his mount ready and let him know when I done it.”
“Ever’body in dis house be sleepin’,” Juba said. “I don’t wanna hear no ruckus or nobody fussin’ ’cause dey gots woke up by a colored boy who don’t know he ’pose to be stayin’ in the stable.”
“I’ll be quiet,” Isaac said. “I promise.” He inhaled deeply. “It smell a lil’ bit like heaven in here.”
Juba pursed her lips together. “Mm-hmm. You don’t fool me, boy.”
Isaac lifted his brows. “Not tryin’ to fool nobody, ma’am. Jes sayin’ how good it smells in here.”
“You get on wit’ yo’self now. Get yo’ errand done and quit wasting time butterin’ me up,” she said. “I might have a biscuit or two fo’ you when you come back dis way.”
Isaac grinned. “Kin you tell me which room Mr. Elijah be in?”
She pointed to a set of stairs against the back wall of the kitchen that seemed to disappear into the ceiling. “Take ’em up and go till you get to the third door on da right.”
“I’ll be back to claim those three biscuits,” he said, making his way across the floor.
“I say one or two biscuits, you sassy boy,” she said, “and you be quiet like a mouse. I don’t even wanna hear no footsteps!”
Isaac nodded, then started up the stairs.
The door to Elijah’s room opened quietly and Isaac slipped inside. He had the captain’s horse all ready, and now he planned to get his things together. Anything he could do to help the man who had come to mean so much to him. Isaac hated to see him go, but knew his decision to stay behind and work on the plantation was the right one. There were plenty of people just like him. He was doing something he loved, and he had a new friend in Moby. For the first time, he was earning his own keep and it felt good. Besides, the captain was going back to fight the Indians, so he couldn’t go with him anyway.
Isaac saw the worn Bible lying on the table next to the bed. He picked it up and carried it to the bureau, placing it next to a pocket watch, revolver, and hat. Making mental notes, Isaac decided if he worked quietly, he could get out a clean shirt, polish his boots, and have everything set to go before the captain woke. He started to carry out his plan, but his eye was drawn back to the revolver he had long admired. He brushed his fingers over the gun, lingering there a little longer than he should. He knew picking it up was a bad idea, but once the captain left, it might be a long, long time before he’d ever get the opportunity to hold an actual pistol. Maybe he’d hold it and hate it. He needed to find out. If he was going to be a lawman someday, he should at least know how it felt to have the gun in his hand. He lifted it and felt the weight in his palm. He didn’t hate it. He liked how it felt—powerful.
Morning light slanted in through the window, giving Isaac a view of his own reflection in a full-length cheval mirror in the corner of the room. He faced the mirror, drew the gun and tried to look menacing. He drew again. Faster this time. Once more—even faster. He was cut out to be a lawman. A train-riding lawman. He’d have a future his father and grandfather had never even dared dream about. He glanced at the captain, on his side, still fast asleep. He faced the mirror one more time, legs apart, shoulders squared. He would be Sheriff Isaac and keep law and order in towns across the land. He prepared to arc his arm up one more time—this time he did it with lightning speed. Satisfied he was quick enough, he inspected the gun a little more closely. He tested the chamber and felt it turn, then pulled back the hammer with his thumb—it was harder than he’d imagined. He was pleased he knew how to do it. A noise from the other side of the room startled him. He swung toward one sound and nearly died from fright with the other as the gun exploded. His shoulder jerked back and he dropped to the floor, but not before he saw the surprised eyes of the captain—just as the bullet slammed right into him.
At first, there was more shock than pain. Elijah reached for a burning spot in his gut and pulled away a hand covered in blood. He could see it in the early dawn light—just as he could see Isaac on the floor. The gun dropped out of Isaac’s hand. The shock on the boy’s face nearly equaled Elijah’s own disbelief at wh
at had just transpired.
Isaac started to scoot backward against the wood floor, his heels pushing him toward the opposite wall.
“Oh, no, no, no, no, Cap’n,” Isaac said. The words were almost a low, keening moan from the boy.
Elijah saw the fear and deep regret on Isaac’s face. Boy with a gun. Colored boy with a gun. Over the blood pounding in his ears, he could hear doors opening up and down the hallway and people spilling out of their rooms.
“What was that?”
“Was that a gun? It sounded like a gun!”
“Isaac.” Elijah pushed out the words. “Hide.”
“Where did it come from?”
Any minute now someone would come into his room. Isaac was lost in the misery of his own actions and couldn’t seem to move.
“I didn’t mean … was a bad accident …”
Elijah grabbed hold of the edge of the bed and felt the stickiness of blood on the sheets. “I know,” he said. Gritting his teeth against the spreading pain in his torso, he pushed himself off the bed onto the floor. “Hide.”
Elijah pushed himself along the floor toward his pistol.
“Beauregard! Is everyone all right? What is happening?”
“Charlotte? Victoria?”
“Cap’n!” Isaac sobbed out the word. “So sorry …”
“The wardrobe!”
Elijah, sweating profusely now, was next to his gun. The blood from his torso began to pool on the floor. He looked at Isaac, huddled against the wall, his face racked with guilt.
“Get in the wardrobe … now!”
The commotion in the hall grew closer. He finally saw Isaac scramble to his feet and disappear into the wardrobe just as the bedroom door burst open.
“What the devil?” Beau stood in the threshold of the room, a shotgun in his trembling hands. “Elijah! What happened? Who did this?”
Beau, shocked at the scene, stepped back. He stood half-shielded by the doorframe.
Servants congregated behind him. Beau scanned the room, took in the bloody sheets, the pistol—Elijah bleeding on the floor.
Mother and Victoria tried to see past him, but Beau yelled.
“Stay back!”
Ignoring his order, Victoria peered around his shoulder to see Elijah on the floor. She immediately jerked back, away from the scene. She pressed her hands over her ears. “Don’t say he’s dead. Don’t say it!”
“Not again,” his mother pleaded. “Please—this can’t happen again.”
Charlotte moved past everyone in the hall, tried to get by Beau, but he put out a hand to stop her.
“Don’t, Char, we don’t know if—”
But she ignored him and pushed into the room. She saw Elijah on the floor, a puddle of blood spreading from his middle.
“Elijah!”
She ran to Elijah’s side and dropped to her knees.
“Charlotte—get out of there,” Beau said tersely.
She put a hand on Elijah’s chest. His eyes were open, but when he tried to speak, no sound came out.
Beau finally raised his gun a little higher and left the perceived safety of the door frame. He stood over Elijah, but his gaze never quit roaming the room. “Who did this, Elijah?”
Elijah couldn’t make his lips form the words to tell them it was an accident. It was easier just to close his eyes and not try anymore.
“Someone get a doctor!” Charlotte yelled.
Suzanne kept shaking her head, her hand clutched her robe, her brow furrowed in disbelief. “Not again.”
Victoria turned to the group of servants in the hall. “Rose, go tell Jonas to fetch Doc Hawkins! Hurry up, now!”
Beau, seemingly emboldened by his audience, made his way around the room with his gun. He dropped to one knee and peered under the bed, looked behind the heavy drapes that hadn’t been pulled the night before, then finally went to the wardrobe.
“So much blood,” Charlotte said. “Victoria, get me something to press over the wound.”
“What if he dies, Char?” Victoria’s voice held tears. “What if he dies?”
“He’s not going to. He can’t. Get me something!”
Victoria grabbed Elijah’s shirt from the bureau at the same time Beau yanked open the wardrobe to reveal Isaac.
“You!” He grabbed Isaac’s arm and hauled him out of the closet. “Here’s your shooter.”
Charlotte took the shirt from Victoria, pressed it over the wound, in Elijah’s belly and looked with disbelief at Isaac. “No. Isaac?”
“You do this, boy?” Beau asked.
Isaac nodded, tears running down his face.
“You’re coming with me.” Beau grabbed Isaac’s arm and hauled him out of the room.
Elijah groaned. Charlotte focused on stopping the bleeding. “It’s all right. A doctor’s coming.”
Elijah could smell lemons. He opened his eyes and looked at her. She was in her nightdress, hair in disarray from sleep. Her eyes looked so dark and concerned. He wanted to tell her not to worry. It didn’t hurt. He wondered if this was how his brother felt when he lay dying from a bullet wound. He wished someone would say a prayer over him, send him home as he’d done for Jed. His eyes closed again. It was so much easier that way. He felt her hand on his chest, something soft brushed his cheek. A quiet voice filled with angst and regret whispered next to his ear.
“Please, God, don’t take this man.”
He felt such relief. There was the prayer. Now he could go.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Doc Hawkins was washing up at a basin when Charlotte entered Elijah’s room.
“How is he?” she asked, glancing toward the bed. Elijah’s eyes were closed. He was so still, so pale.
“I managed to locate and remove the bullet,” Doc Hawkins said. “It was lodged between two ribs under the upper abdominal wall.” He shook his head, rolled his shirt sleeves from his elbows back down to his wrists. “He’d lost a great deal of blood by the time I managed to get here. It’s lucky he even made it through the surgery.”
“But he’ll be all right?” Charlotte asked.
“He’ll sleep the rest of today, probably tomorrow too with the help of some of the laudanum I’m going to leave with you,” he said. “The threat now is infection. And in his weakened condition, it’ll be harder for him to fight it off.”
“What do I need to do?”
“Keep an eye on the sutures I used to close the wound. It needs to stay clean and dry. If you notice any kind of fever, that usually means infection.”
Charlotte nodded at his instructions. “I’ll stay by his side.”
“Do you know who we might contact regarding his condition?”
Charlotte reached up and her fingers closed around the mercy medallion she wore. My mother gave me this …
“I think his mother is still alive,” she said. “But I don’t know where she is.”
“I can go through his things if you like. Maybe there’s something to give us an idea of where to write.”
Her eyes flew to his saddlebags and things on the bureau. The sight made her nervous. What would happen if he stumbled across anything having to do with Elijah’s military affiliation?
“No, you needn’t do that. I can,” she said.
“Charlotte?”
She looked at the doctor. “Yes?”
“I know how you take things on, shoulder responsibility. But you can only do what I just asked you to do,” he said. “Nothing more. I’ve done my job, you’ll watch for infection, but ultimately his fate rests with God now.”
“I know.”
He smiled, then took off his glasses and wiped them with a handkerchief from his pocket. “I know you don’t remember, but we’ve had this conversation before, you and I.”
“I was delivering a baby last night o
r I would have been here at your welcome-home party.”
Doc started to pack up his surgical instruments. “I’m sure your father is rejoicing in heaven that you’re home safe and sound. And I’m probably one of dozens or more who’ve told you this, but John adored you. Thought you hung the moon and stars. You were his life until the day he died and I don’t think there’s a person this side of the Mississippi who didn’t know how proud he was of you.”
Charlotte’s eyes filled with tears, but she smiled. “Thank you for telling me.”
“All right,” he said. “I’m going to see myself out, but I will be back in a few days to check on him.”
“Thank you so much,” Charlotte said.
“You’re welcome,” he said. “And let me also say, welcome home.”
Charlotte, going through Elijah’s pack, pulled out a handful of papers stuffed into a side pocket. His orders granting him official leave from Fort Wallace were on the top of the pile, and she had a moment of gratitude that it was she who was seeing them and no one else from the family. There were maps of Tennessee and Kentucky, and a copy of a telegram he’d sent from Fort Donelson. Thank God he stopped to send that telegram …
And then she unfolded a piece of newspaper. She turned it over and stared in surprise at an engraving of her photograph that had appeared in the St. Louis Gazette with the announcement of her engagement to Rand. The edges of the paper were worn from handling, and she wondered how many times that picture had been pulled out and shown to strangers in different towns. She refolded the newspaper and put it back with his other papers on top of the bureau next to a Bible. The Bible was a surprise because she hadn’t seen him reading it, but when she picked it up, she could tell it was well used. There were several pieces of paper stuck between the pages. She’d seen the nuns do the same thing with passages and verses particularly meaningful to them. Maybe Elijah had the same practice. Charlotte opened the Bible, intending to go to one of the marked passages to read, but as she flipped through the pages, a piece of paper fell out. It was folded in quarters, and when she opened it, she could see it was a letter. Though she didn’t want to intrude on his private correspondence, she reminded herself she was going through his personal things for his own good. The letter might provide a clue to a family member or friend she should notify. Moving over to the window for better light, she started to read: