A House Divided

by Jonathan F. Putnam

  Everyone in the room was staring at him now. The sudden attention seemed to surprise the slight boy, and he stood there, dumb.

  “What is it, Hay?”

  Hay opened his mouth, but no words emerged.

  “Speak up, boy,” demanded Lincoln.

  “There’s a hole in the wall,” the boy said, his voice cracking. “Right here. I think it’s a tunnel.”

  CHAPTER 34

  Hay pointed to a void in the wall at about knee height. A large stone, which Hay had evidently dislodged, stood beside him at the base of the wall. The boy knelt down beside the hole and disappeared into the void.

  Big Red turned to Lincoln. The mayor’s enormous ears were waggling back and forth frantically. “What’s in that direction?”

  “The basement of the capitol,” said Lincoln, his face lighted with somber comprehension.

  “William Trailor’s cell,” said the sheriff. He added a word I’d never heard him use before. Martha, standing beside me, blushed.

  “Arrest him!” shouted Roy.

  “William Trailor rode out of town right after the trial ended,” replied Lincoln. He looked at me. “Conkling told us he’d helped him carry up his trunk from his basement cell.” Lincoln reconsidered, his face pained. “Helped him carry up our trunk, that is.

  “We’ll ride after him at once,” Lincoln added, turning to the sheriff. “We’ll be much faster, on horseback, than he’ll be in a carriage with that heavy trunk. With luck, we should be able to track him down in a few hours.”

  Hay’s face popped out of the hole in the wall, and the rest of his body followed shortly thereafter, his entire set of clothing now covered with dirt. “Leads right to the jail cell in the capitol,” he said. “And look what I found there, under a pile of stones.” Hay held up a shovel. I remembered that Lincoln had found a shovel at the bottom of William Trailor’s trunk when we searched it in Edwards’s hayloft.

  “We know his game,” said Lincoln, nodding grimly. “Our only hope is that we’ve caught him out in time. Come, Sheriff. Let’s ride off after him.”

  “I’ll go as well,” said Belmont.

  I eyed the banker suspiciously. All the time he’d spent with Henry Trailor, as well as the fact that he’d remained in town after the gold transfer had been completed, made sense now. I felt certain Belmont was part of the robbery plot. Very likely, he was the ringleader. “And I’m coming along,” I said.

  “Me, too,” said Martha with excitement in her voice.

  “Certainly not,” I replied. “I forbid it.” Martha glowered at me.

  “Let’s meet in five minutes,” said Lincoln, “ten at most, at the Globe stables. In the meantime, Hay, go see if you can find someone who saw William Trailor leaving town, so we know which direction to head. Start with Conkling. He must have some idea, given that he helped him load the trunk. Conkling’s practically an accessory. And good work on finding the tunnel.”

  Hay stood rooted to the spot, beaming with pride at the unaccustomed compliment.

  “Get going!” shouted Lincoln, and giving a start, the boy scattered.

  Exactly eight minutes later, Hutchason, Lincoln, and I sat atop our mounts in the courtyard beside the Globe stables, waiting for Belmont to join us. Hickory pranced around beneath me excitedly. She had the sense we were about to head off on a chase.

  Martha and I had argued the whole way over to the Globe. She was persistent in her desire to ride with us, not even stopping her pleading when I ducked into my store and, reaching up on one of the top shelves, brought down a pistol and box of ammunition. But I was just as persistent that a posse was no place for a young woman. By the time we reached the stables, Martha realized her cause was lost, and she strode into the tavern in a huff, not even wishing us good speed on our journey.

  Belmont rode up. He had arrived in town aboard a magnificent Arabian, but now he was perched atop a plain, chestnut-colored Morgan. Belmont was dressed like a ragged stablehand, with a shabby cloth vest over a wrinkled riding shirt. Unlike the other three of us, he was bareheaded. The only sign of his usual affectation was his well-loved walking stick, which poked out of one of the saddlebags slung across his mount.

  “Why the costume?” I asked.

  “I’ve told you before, Speed, although you did not want to listen. In my position, I must be prepared at all times to be either banker or bandit. We venture into the den of thieves. We must appear as if we have come to partake in the meal, not to be served on the platter. You three …” He trailed off and gestured despairingly at us. “Ach! You three are unlikely to apprehend the thieves. Whatever you are wearing will not matter in the end.”

  “And where’s your Arab?”

  “No bandito worth his name would mount an Arab. It’s much too conspicuous on the prairie.”

  I nodded. The banker did make sense on occasion.

  “What’s taking Hay so long?” asked Lincoln irritably, glancing at the sun, which was nearing its highest point. “We need to track down William by sunset if we’re to have a real hope of recapturing the gold.”

  We were about to leave a minute later when we heard shouts coming from the street. Soon thereafter, Hay himself materialized, running as fast as his spindly legs would carry him and gasping frantically for breath.

  “No … one … saw … him … leave,” he panted. His dirt-covered clothing was rent through with sweat.

  “Impossible,” said the sheriff. “It was broad daylight. Someone must have seen which direction he went.”

  “What did Conkling say?” asked Lincoln.

  “Couldn’t find … him,” replied Hay, still catching his breath.

  Lincoln looked over at me. “What do you think, Speed? We could spend more time canvassing the area around the capitol building. The sheriff’s right: someone must have seen something. But there’s no guarantee we’d find the person in an hour, or even two.”

  “We haven’t got the time,” I said. “It’s most likely William headed west, towards Jacksonville. It’s the least-traveled road, the one where he’s least likely to excite notice.” I looked around. “Two of us could take that road. And then one the road south towards Vandalia, and the fourth on the road north towards Peoria.” These were the three principal carriage roads leaving Springfield. If William Trailor was driving a carriage sturdy enough to haul the trunk full of gold, he’d have to be taking one of the three routes.

  “But you’re just guessing,” protested Hutchason.

  “Guessing is the best hope we’ve got at this point,” I replied.

  “Unless you want to ask the man who rented them their carriage,” came a feminine voice from behind us. We swung around to see Martha walking toward us from the door of the Globe, the tavernkeeper Saunders at her side.

  “What?”

  “Tell my witless brother and the rest of this group what happened earlier, Mr. Saunders, if you please,” prompted Martha.

  “Potbellied fellow came by this morning, in a real hurry, asking if he could rent out a horse and carriage,” said Saunders.

  “Henry Trailor!” I shouted. “He disappeared from the courtroom soon after Dr. Gilmore showed up. I knew the two brothers were in it together. Henry must have realized at once they’d be needing a quick escape.”

  “Go on, Saunders,” said Lincoln.

  “The fellow said they was driving north, towards Peoria Lake, but they’d return the lot in a month’s time, when they were back this way. I don’t usually allow my rides to be taken out that long, but he gave me a good price, all up front, very nearly the full price of the horse and conveyance together. It’s all profit to me when they come back.”

  “Perhaps he merely said he was going towards Peoria as a ruse,” said Belmont.

  “Just listen, if you please,” said Martha. She gestured at Saunders to continue.

  The tavernkeeper pointed toward the capitol square. “He drove off that way—”

  “To collect William and the trunk,” exclaimed the sheriff.

/>   “And then, not thirty minutes later,” continued the tavernkeeper, “I see the carriage driving back the other way, out towards the Peoria road, driving fast enough to scare a clan of badgers.”

  “What horse and carriage did you give him?” asked the sheriff.

  “He said he wanted to go as fast as possible. So I let him have Daisy. She’s the fastest Morgan I’ve got. And I gave him my best phaeton. Didn’t have time to wash it down, as he wanted to drive it out of the yard at once. But it’s painted dark blue under all the dust.”

  “Appreciate the information, Saunders,” said Lincoln, as the four of us turned our mounts and prepared to ride out of the yard. “And thank you, Miss Speed, for thinking to ask Saunders what he knew. Your quick thinking, as always, has been invaluable.”

  My sister trained a triumphant glare in my direction. “Enough!” I shouted, when she would not blink. “Now wish us luck, and we’ll be off.”

  “Good luck, Mr. Lincoln,” said Martha. “And to you, too, Sheriff. And Mr. Belmont.”

  Shaking my head, I followed the others out of the yard, all of us riding at a smart canter. Within minutes we had left the town and surrounding farms behind and were out into the open prairie.

  The last time I had ridden through the prairie had been the day of the Sudden Change. But now, the frigid grays and whites of that winter’s day had been replaced by an explosion of brilliant color. There seemed to be no edge to the land. The prairie rolled on forever, like the back of an enormous animal that might at any moment get up and run.

  Riding down the center of the two-tracked carriage path, we passed beside tall green grasses giving off a sweet, dry smell and up and down gentle hillsides covered with purple and blue and rose-colored flowers. Giant sunflowers broke through the glassy surface of the grasslands, their heads a swirl of gold, tawny brown and coppery green. Tiny yellow-breasted birds perched on top of tall, lime-green weeds that swayed in the breeze.

  We were a thousand miles from the sea but the land rolled like the sea, and the gentle winds blew the grasses back and forth like churning waves. The shadows of the clouds raced us up and down the grassy slopes. And every now and then we would catch sight of a dark stand of timber off on the horizon, like an uncharted island waiting to be explored.

  After we’d been riding for about an hour, we came to a fork in the road. One after another, we pulled up to contemplate it.

  “Peoria Lake is that way,” said the sheriff, pointing to the right-hand branch of the fork.

  “And the quickest way to the Illinois River is that way,” said Lincoln, pointing left. “If they’re planning to make a water escape.”

  As we contemplated the fork, the horses ducked their heads and drank from a small stream that gurgled through the grasses. Nearby, a pair of hummingbirds fed on the red blooms of an Indian paintbrush stalk.

  Sheriff Hutchason swung off his horse and examined the rutted carriage tracks, along with the surrounding grasses. He walked back and forth, then got down on his knees to stare at a stalk of tall grass that had sprouted between the two tracks. “The most recent carriage to come through went right,” he announced. “Makes sense. They want to get back to their home area as quickly as possible. Know the territory better. Know the hiding places.”

  Hutchason swung back atop his horse and started toward the right fork. Lincoln moved to follow behind him.

  “I think I’ll go left,” said Belmont. “Just in case. If I reach the river without finding them, I’ll tack back towards you.”

  I eyed him with suspicion. “And I’ll go with Belmont,” I said. “Divide our resources evenly. Let’s be off.”

  Without further discussion, we parted. Belmont and I rode swiftly along the rutted carriage path. A flock of wild geese flew far overhead, squawking at each other like a group of truant schoolchildren. I spent a good deal of time contemplating the man riding expertly by my side. The question I had asked him in Lincoln’s office echoed in my head. Are you banker or bandit? I still had no idea.

  At one point, Belmont caught me staring. “You don’t trust me,” he said, a statement, not a question.

  “No.” I considered. “Not yet.”

  “I imagine that caution has served you well throughout your life,” he replied. “But you’d do best to forget it for the rest of this journey.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “When the fight comes, it will favor the bold. To hesitate is to lose.” He kicked his horse and rode on ahead, before turning back to add over his shoulder, “And I don’t plan on losing.”

  A little while later, we approached a gentle rise in the road. But as we started to ride up it, Belmont suddenly put up his hand and reined his horse to a quick stop. I did likewise. “What is it?” I asked.

  “Listen.”

  I did so, then shook my head, but Belmont nodded. “Up ahead. Somewhere over the rise. Someone’s shouting. Maybe two voices.”

  I listened again, intently. Nothing.

  “I’m certain of it,” said Belmont. “Here, let’s tie our horses to that bush over there. They’ll hear us approaching on horseback. Might have already. But we’ll be much quieter on foot.”

  I shot Belmont a gaze, openly suspicious. If he meant to take me, here was the perfect opportunity, alone in the prairie, off my trusty Hickory. The bandit banker read my thoughts precisely.

  “Look, do you want to regain the gold and apprehend the Trailors?”

  “Very much.”

  “Then get off the damned horse and follow me.”

  There’s no glory for cowards, I thought as I brushed my hand against the pistol in my pocket. I jumped down and led Hickory over to the bush and secured her. Belmont did the same with his ride. “Follow me,” he said.

  We waded into the long grasses bordering the carriage path and crept forward, up the rise and down again. Every few minutes Belmont would stop, wait, and listen. Then he’d nod to himself and proceed. On the third stop, I thought I heard a noise on the breeze, and on the fourth I was sure of it. Just like Belmont had said: two voices.

  We crept closer. The voices became louder, more distinct. The men appeared to be stationary, rather than moving away from us. During one of our periodic stops, I knelt in the grass and loaded my pistol, jamming the wad down the barrel, tearing off the top of the powder package with my teeth and pouring in the fine grains, ramming the ball into place.

  Belmont watched me intently. He was apparently unarmed himself, and he displayed not the slightest concern about this fact. Once I’d finished loading my weapon, Belmont crept forward again, gesturing for me to follow.

  The next time we stopped, I felt sure I recognized one of the voices as the high-pitched whine of Henry Trailor. And on the next stop, I concluded the other voice was his brother William. Quietly, I told Belmont. He nodded, as if he’d come to the same conclusion long ago.

  “But why are they stopped in the prairie?” I asked.

  We were at the top of another ridge now, looking down. A hawk flew in broad circles above us. The voices were coming from somewhere in the plain before us. But there was no vehicle in sight.

  “And where’s their carriage? They can’t possibly be walking with that heavy trunk.”

  “Perhaps they’ve already passed it to a confederate,” said Belmont.

  Soon the voices were loud enough that we were almost on top of the brothers. And still we could not see them. I raised my gun and crept forward. Belmont was a few steps ahead of me. Suddenly he rose up to his full height.

  “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” he said.

  I rushed forward to join him. There, in the grass in front of us, sat William and Henry Trailor. They were bound by thick rope, back to back, on the side of the carriage track. Their faces were badly bruised, as if they’d been on the receiving end of more than a few blows. Henry spit half-heartedly in our direction.

  Neither their carriage nor the trunk was anywhere in evidence.

  “We was robbed,” said Henry.

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nbsp; William adopted something approaching his usual haughty tone. “At last! Untie us, if you please. And I insist you send word to your sheriff at once. Not only did I have to endure trial for a crime which I did not commit, but now I’ve been assaulted. My treatment has been nothing short of outrageous.”

  “What happened?” asked Belmont.

  “We were attacked by two banditti on horseback. They followed our carriage for several miles, riding back and forth in front of our path, then set upon us from behind, from separate directions. We tried to fight them off, but they were too nimble for us. And well practiced at their thievery. They stole the carriage right out from under us, left us here to starve.”

  “You’ll not starve anytime soon,” said Belmont unsympathetically. “Where’s your belongings?”

  “They stole everything,” said William. “Even my traveler’s trunk. Of course, it was only carrying clothing and my contractor tools, but still, it’s a loss to me. Some of those tools carry my sentiment.”

  “We found the tunnel into the bank vault,” I said. “We know exactly what was in that trunk.”

  Henry winced, but William did an admirable job of keeping his face straight. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said. “Besides, you’ll never be able to prove what was in there.” He nodded at the area around him. “It’s gone. Now set us free.”

  I laughed. “You’re fine right where you are. The sheriff will be by soon enough. We’ll send him your way.” I turned to Belmont. “Let’s be off. Our real quarry remains ahead, it appears.”

  “What did the banditti look like?” Belmont asked.

  “That was the worst part,” wailed Henry.

  “I can’t believe you let them take us,” said William, looking over at his brother for the first time.

  “Me? You’re the one who had the best chance to fight them off.”

  William shook his head and muttered, “You’ve failed us again. We had it all figured and you failed us.”

  “What did the two men look like?” I repeated.

  Henry glared at me sullenly. He appeared so defeated that, for a moment, I almost pitied him. Then he spoke. “They ain’t two men. One of them was a girl.”