Finding Mercy

by Cindy Kelley

  “I’m through with that chapter of my life, Hale. I don’t even think about her much anymore.”

  Elijah indicated his bloody middle. “I’m afraid I still do—think about her, that is. Kind of hard not to right now. She’s gotten under my skin.”

  “She’s good at that.” Rand eyed the wound. “Have you seen a doctor?”

  “Not yet. I left her on the trail while she slept and came here to say my piece. I was going to give you whatever information I had on her location—but you say you’re not involved in looking for her.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Do you know who is?”

  Rand hesitated. “You want me to believe you’re going to help the bounty hunters get her?”

  “That is where we believe the justice to be—isn’t it?”

  “Does she know about your change of heart?”

  Elijah heard the skepticism in Rand’s voice and saw the confusion on his face.

  “She forced my change of heart,” Elijah said. “As I said, she blames me for her turn of fortune.”

  “Even after what you did to get her sentence commuted?”

  Elijah nodded. “She says I forced her into the rash actions that got her arrested. I brought to light her Confederate past—insisted she tell you the truth …”

  “Which she didn’t do.”

  “No. She didn’t,” Elijah said. “She loved you. Wanted to be your wife. Anyone could see she was crazy about you. And to be blunt, anyone could see by looking at the two of you together you felt the same about her. She had a glorious future in front of her. I should have known she would have done anything to keep you from finding out about her past. She was desperate, and desperate people do and say all sorts of things in the name of love.”

  Rand took a moment to answer. “Yes,” he said. “I think you’re right.”

  The door to the office opened and a beautiful young woman stepped inside. She wore the latest fashion, from her dress to her hat, and was the very picture of wealth and privilege. She stopped when she saw the man in the chair.

  “I’m in the middle of something right now, Cora.”

  Elijah struggled to his feet and turned toward her. “Hello, Cora.”

  It seemed to take her a moment to realize whom she was staring at. “As I live and breathe,” she said. “Captain Elijah Hale.”

  Elijah was completely surprised at her appearance. The last time he remembered seeing Cora Vaughn was at a pheasant hunt hosted by the Prescott family, where she’d insisted he give her shooting lessons.

  “I must say I thought we might meet again someday.” She moved across the office toward Rand but kept her eyes on Elijah. “My goodness, Elijah, but you look simply dreadful.”

  Elijah forced a smile. “You look just as lovely as always, Cora.”

  “Thank you. If I’m glowing, it’s all because of my fiancé here. I’m simply brimming with happiness.”

  “Fiancé?”

  Was it Elijah’s imagination, or did he see Rand flinch? Cora tucked her arm through Rand’s. “Yes.” She nestled closer to Rand. “You didn’t share our good news with Elijah?”

  “We’ve been discussing other things, Cora,” Rand said. “Our engagement news wasn’t the first thing that came to mind.”

  “Congratulations,” Elijah said.

  “Thank you,” Cora practically purred. “It’s an exciting time for me. Us. I’m marrying the man of my dreams.” She looked up at Rand adoringly, but Elijah could see Rand’s obvious discomfort at her display.

  “Anyway, Elijah, I’m so sorry to have to spirit him away from you, but we have an appointment to keep with the officiant of our ceremony. Not that we’re going to do anything on a grand scale, mind you. Just our families and close friends. After what that traitor Mercy put Rand through, we didn’t want him to relive the planning and staging of a big wedding.”

  “He doesn’t care about the details, Cora.” Rand’s tone was terse.

  Cora smiled sweetly. “Of course not,” she said. “We do have a full afternoon, darling. Don’t forget, after the meeting we have the fund-raiser for your father.” She looked at Elijah. “Did Rand tell you Charles is running for Senate?”

  “No, he didn’t,” Elijah said.

  She rolled her eyes but smiled. “He hates to brag.” Then her smile dropped as she looked him over from head to toe. “Forgive me for saying so, Elijah, but you do look as though you could use a nice, long rest. Maybe a bath, a shave.” She grimaced when she looked pointedly at his shirt. “A clean shirt wouldn’t hurt either.”

  Rand put a hand on her arm. “I think you’ve made your point.” He turned to Elijah. “But she is right, I think. It would do you good to see to some of those creature comforts. Maybe take a room somewhere. In fact, I’d recommend you go to the Lindell Hotel. It’s not far—just over on East Sixth Street. I think you might find what you need there.”

  Cora brightened. “Oh, the Lindell is a beautiful hotel. In fact, my father has his lunch in the dining room five days a week. Noon on the dot … There he sits with his paper and cigar.”

  “Every day like clockwork,” Rand reiterated.

  “Tell them you’re a friend of Howard Vaughn and I’m sure they’ll treat you right, Elijah.”

  “Thanks for the tip,” Elijah said. He looked at Rand and saw the slightest nod.

  Cora smiled. “That kind of routine is comforting—don’t you think?”

  “I suppose so,” Elijah said. “I’ll get out of your way now. I appreciate your time, Rand. You’ve been most helpful.”

  He was making his way out of the office when Cora stopped him.

  “How is Mercy, Captain Hale? Still walking the earth?”

  “As far as I know.”

  Cora lifted her brows. “Hmm. More’s the pity.”

  Elijah drew in a steadying breath and walked out the door.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  The Lindell Hotel covered most of a city block. Elijah went to the Sixth Street entrance, bent his arm across the unsightly stain in his shirt, and nodded at the doorman who opened the door, but not before he looked at Elijah with a dubious expression.

  “Are you a guest at this hotel, sir?”

  “Meeting a guest,” he answered.

  “Enjoy the hotel, sir.”

  The interior of the place was a blur of activity—bellmen pushing luggage carts, people checking in and checking out. As he entered the massive lobby, he saw a concierge stand, a corner where books, newspapers, and magazines were sold, a gift shop, and finally, through an arched doorway across from him, the dining room. Two women made their way past him, and he felt their judging eyes as they took in his disheveled appearance. He ducked into the men’s washroom and took a good, long look at himself in the mirror. He’d wondered if he looked as bad as he felt—and the reflection confirmed it. He was a mess inside and out. Thanking the good Lord for water, he splashed it from a basin onto his face, then slicked back his hair with the palm of his hand. Standing on shaking legs, he was surprised at the heat coming off his face. His dark beard covered much of it, but the ruddy red of his cheeks wasn’t from the sun. He fought the urge to sit and wait for a wave of weakness to pass but summoned all the energy he had left and pressed through the door. He stopped at the counter where a hatcheck girl was handing out tickets for hats, handbags, anything patrons didn’t want to take to their tables.

  Elijah smiled at her. “I’m sorry, but I seem to have lost my ticket.”

  She smiled back. “If you describe the item you checked, sir, I’ll be happy to look for it.”

  An older couple stepped up beside Elijah. “I’ll be right with you,” the hatcheck girl said.

  “Please, go ahead and help them,” Elijah told her. “If you don’t mind, I’ll go look myself.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “That will be most
helpful.” As she turned her attention back to the older couple, Elijah slipped into the recesses of the coatroom. He made his way along the racks, found what he needed. Elijah entered the dining room wearing a navy-blue jacket that covered the stain on his shirt just fine.

  It was easy to spot Howard Vaughn. He sat alone at a corner table with his cigar and paper, just as Cora has described. He was a man who looked right at home in the wealthy surroundings.

  Elijah drew himself up, squared his shoulders, denied the groan that was aching to come out from the pain he was in, and quickly crossed to Vaughn’s table.

  “Mr. Vaughn?”

  Vaughn lowered the paper to look at Elijah. “Yes?”

  “We have some business to discuss.”

  Vaughn put the paper down and stared at him. “Do I know you?”

  “Elijah Hale. We’ve never been introduced,” Elijah said.

  Vaughn waved the hand holding his cigar dismissively. “If you have something to discuss with me, make an appointment with my secretary.”

  Elijah pulled out a chair and sat. “I don’t think so.”

  Vaughn was taken aback. “I’m having my lunch, young man, and I’m not discussing business with someone who is so ill-mannered …”

  “I’m here to talk about Mercy.”

  Vaughn’s brows shot up. “Now there’s a name you don’t hear in polite circles.”

  “What circles do you hear her name in?”

  “What is this about?”

  “What do you know about the bounty on Mercy’s head?”

  Vaughn stuffed his cigar back into his mouth and shook his head. “Nothing.”

  “I think you’re lying.”

  Vaughn blew out a cloud of smoke and leaned toward Elijah. “You have a lot of nerve, Captain, especially since you were the one who thwarted justice for that girl.”

  “I’m flattered you remember me.”

  “I heard about your theatrics—how you convinced the judge to let Mercy put on some cockamamie shooting show. The two of you had it all planned out, did you?”

  Elijah just shook his head. “She was innocent of the treason charge, and you know it.”

  “But guilty of so much more.”

  “Just by virtue of being from the South?”

  “Good enough reason for me,” Vaughn said.

  “I saw Cora at Rand’s office a little while ago,” Elijah said. “I assume both of your families are pleased with their engagement.”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes. Yes, we’re very pleased. Cora and Rand are a fine match. Always have been.”

  “Must have made things a little sticky at your house when Rand planned to marry Mercy.”

  “Sticky?”

  “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,” Elijah said.

  “Are you suggesting my daughter has something to do with this bounty nonsense?”

  Elijah shrugged. “Why not? She’s a young woman used to getting her way.”

  “It’s a ridiculous notion, and it would be completely pointless. Rand had broken things off with Mercy, and she was in prison! Even when her sentence was commuted, she was ordered to leave the state. No, no, Rand came to his senses long before that trial. I guarantee my daughter hasn’t wasted two seconds worrying about Mercy.”

  “Cora tells me that Charles Prescott is making a run for the Senate,” Elijah said.

  “That’s right. I can’t think of a better man to hold office than Charles,” Vaughn said. “He’s perfect candidate material.”

  “Unless someone from his past comes out of the woodwork,” Elijah said.

  Vaughn grinned, waving his cigar back and forth. “I see what you’re trying to say here, Hale, and you’re way off base. Everyone who matters knows about Mercy and how Charles had to suffer through that embarrassment with Rand. Mercy can crawl out of that woodwork and it won’t matter one iota.”

  “I heard it wasn’t Charles who was so angry about the whole thing—it was his wife, Ilene.”

  “I wouldn’t know about that.”

  “Then again, I image your wife didn’t care much for Mercy either.”

  “No. Not much.”

  “So really, if you think about it, both sides of the family would be more than happy if she disappeared and never surfaced again.”

  A waiter hustled up to the table with a tureen of vegetables and a plate heaped with pork. “Your succotash, Mr. Vaughn. Anything else I can get for you?”

  “I’ll have my usual custard in a bit, Tommy.”

  “Yes, sir,” he said, then glanced at Elijah. “And anything for your guest?”

  “No. He’s leaving,” Vaughn said with a pointed look.

  When the waiter was out of earshot and Elijah hadn’t budged, Vaughn settled his cigar in an ashtray. “I’d like to eat my lunch in peace, Captain, if you don’t mind.”

  “I think Mercy would like to live her life in peace, Mr. Vaughn,” Elijah countered. “I know you had something to do with the bounty.”

  “Oh, do you?”

  “My theory is you’re the one who put up the money to have her hunted like a dog.”

  Vaughn puffed out another cloud of smoke. “Think whatever you want, Captain. The world revolves around proof, not theory. I sleep with a clear conscience at night.”

  “And how do you think you’ll sleep when I tell you the men you hired are dead?”

  “Dead?”

  “All of them.”

  Vaughn puffed away on his cigar. “Men like that know the risks. I’m sorry for their families. Now, I would appreciate it if you would leave me to my lunch. Any more of this talk and it might spoil my appetite.”

  “Then I’m afraid this won’t help much,” Elijah said, drawing the faded yellow telegram from his shirt pocket. It was blood stained, wrinkled, but still legible. “I found this in the pocket of one of the dead men.”

  Vaughn looked down at the telegram, then shrugged. “So?”

  “Did you know it’s possible to trace the origin of this, Mr. Vaughn?”

  “No …”

  Lord, I’m already asking forgiveness for the lies I’m about to tell.

  “It is. Something I learned in the military. It takes some effort, but it’s entirely possible … and I intend to do that. Track down the person who sent this. They say dead men tell no tales, but the men who came after Mercy did quite a bit of talking after their deaths.”

  Vaughn’s lunch grew cold in front of him. The ash on the end of his cigar lengthened and the man himself looked ill.

  “What do you want, Hale?”

  “I want the bounty canceled, or I will let every newspaper this side of the Mississippi know that Charles Prescott is involved in underhanded tactics that resulted in the deaths of former Union soldiers.”

  “Charles has no knowledge of any of this!” Vaughn slapped the table with his free hand. “It was our wives who hated Mercy with a passion. Ilene hates her for the humiliation she’s caused the family, and my Betsy—well, she’ll do almost anything to ensure Cora’s happiness. A man has to see to his wife’s happiness and well-being. It’s the duty of a good husband.”

  “And I’m sure it won’t hurt that if Charles is elected to the Senate, you’ll be his right-hand man. But not if Mercy comes back into the picture—riles everything up again.”

  Vaughn started to pick up the telegram, but Elijah snatched it off the table and stuffed it back into his pocket.

  “No more men. No more threats against Mercy,” Elijah said. “Or I will go public with this telegram and I’ll see you prosecuted for your part in Mercy’s attempted murder.”

  “I don’t care for threats, Captain,” Vaughn said.

  “It’s not a threat, Mr. Vaughn. It’s a promise—one I’ll make good on with my last breath if I have to. As you said, the worl
d revolves around proof.” He patted his pocket. “Are we clear? Do I have your word?”

  Vaughn nodded. “Yes. I don’t ever want to hear that woman’s name again.”

  Elijah pushed back from the table, used every ounce of strength he had left to make his exit back through the dining room. He peeled off the jacket he wore, handed it to the surprised hatcheck girl, and using the wall for support, made his way back across the thick carpets on the floor.

  Elijah could see the world beyond the hotel door—the carriages, wagons, and horses. People walking to destinations he couldn’t see and didn’t care about. With his mission behind him, his body rapidly started to betray him. It felt as if a wick of flame had started deep inside and was spreading its fire from limb to limb. The growing heat told him his wound was infected.

  Elijah stopped to rest, leaning heavily against ornate plaster molding along the wall. He needed to find a place to stay, out of the way of maids and bellmen and anyone else’s prying eyes. His thoughts started to drift. Light in the room started to dim. He shook his head and pushed on along the wall until, in his haze, he saw a door. Basement. Staff Only. Incredibly, it opened and he shoved through. The steps were wooden, noisy. Elijah wondered if the shaking he felt was his legs or the wood. All efforts were poured into getting down those stairs to the concrete floor below. Rectangular windows near the ceiling provided meager light. Cobwebs across the bottom stair wrapped around his skin and gave him reassurance the room wasn’t often visited. He looked around for the perfect place, even as he swayed on his feet, felt the light in the room grow dim. He made it to a corner—behind the huge boiler that heated the place in the winter but stood quiet at the moment. The light dimmed in his head again, the room spun, and Elijah never knew exactly when he hit the floor.

  Chapter Forty

  It was Sunday morning and Charlotte knew she should leave her room, face the day with her head held high and her shoulders back—but she didn’t want to. There was no one in the house she wanted to see.

  Mother, Beau, and Victoria were going to church. For the first time since Charlotte arrived home, they would make the trip to town and sit down together in the family pew. Except Charlotte had no intention of going. She knew if she timed it right, made the announcement of her severe headache just moments before Beau was ready to drive the buggy away from the house, they wouldn’t be inclined to argue with her. After all, her mother had made it clear several times how much she valued punctuality.