M. Donice Byrd - The Warner Saga (20 page)

This
thing
with Meredith, whatever this thing was, scared him to death. It brought back all the boyhood vulnerabilities he felt. She made him feel content which was strangely alien for him. Accustomed to a privileged life of parties and balls, he’d grown bored. It prompted him to seek out Allan Pinkerton, the man who searched for him for nearly a decade and who started the Union Intelligence Agency, to become a spy. Even after Pinkerton had been replaced by Lafe Baker, Blake stayed on. He had attended two different military schools and knew he’d rebel against the structure of the army so spying was a better fit if he wanted to serve his country.

He wanted to follow his father into politics but with his illegitimacy tarnishing his background, Blake could never get elected.

Meredith was a breath of fresh air in his stuffy life. She always said something that surprised him or irritated him to no end and she kept the boredom away. Unlike the debutantes and socialites he knew, she never let him have his way just to gain his favor. It never occurred to her to capitulate when her opinion differed from his. No doubt that was why he found her so fascinating. But the way she had brought forth unbidden feelings in him made him stop and take notice. No woman had ever done that to him before. He always broke off every relationship when he suspected the woman had developed feelings for him. He did it at the first sign to spare the woman from getting too deeply hurt but now he knew, for both their sakes, he would have to follow through with the divorce, perhaps even more than for her sake; for his. He just couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t let her get under his skin because if he did, there would be no way he could protect himself. He didn’t know if he could ever climb out of that hole again if she hurt him the way Beth had. If only this warmth had not taken hold, if he didn’t find himself fascinated by her, then maybe he could stay married to her. He was becoming accustomed to the idea of being married – mostly because he would like to have children but not with her. Not with any woman he could care for. No, he wanted only a marriage of convenience. Not a love match.

It would probably be best if he never saw her again. Surely, Donna would be willing to take her to her relatives. If they wouldn’t take her, or either Donna or Meredith felt she was in danger, Donna could find her a safe place to live and help her find work. He just couldn’t put himself in that close proximity to her when she was his fatal flaw.

The thunder of hooves came from so far away that Blake didn’t notice it until it crescendoed to a roar in his ears. His mind was so preoccupied that he merely guided his horse to the edge of the road to allow the other riders to pass at their breakneck speed. It did not occur to him that these riders could be after him until
he was surrounded.

18

Blake lay on his back staring at the ceiling of the tiny cell. They were hanging him for being a spy in the morning. Unless his contact, Charles Bromley turned him in, they had no proof but during wartime, suspicion was all it took. And, of course, the fact that he was a spy made him resigned to his fate.

Blake threw his long legs over the side of the bunk and sat up. He couldn’t sleep. “Deputy, are you awake?”

The deputy who had been tilting the wooden chair against the wall with his booted feet on the desk, sat up with a start. By the disoriented look on the man’s face Blake knew he had awakened him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were sleeping,” Blake said. “I was wondering if you had some paper and a pencil so I can write my wife a letter.”

“Sorry, the sheriff says the paper is for our use only.”

Blake sighed. “Please, I’ve been married only a month. My wife is going to think I abandoned her.”

“I guess you should’ve thought about that before you brought your Yankee-ass into the South.”

Blake put his elbows on his knees and held his head in his hands. “Deputy, please. Her parents were killed days before we got married. She has no one else but me.”

The revelation startled Blake. It was mostly true. She only had him and an aunt and uncle from whom she was estranged. A strange pang niggled at his subconscious.

Silence stretched out for half a minute before the deputy spoke. “How were they killed?”

“Sioux renegades. They lived in
Minnesota.”

Hyram Abercrombie pulled his feet off the desk and opened a drawer. He pulled out a pencil and a few sheets of paper. “I think you’re pouring it on a little thick but I can see I’m not going to get any sleep until I give in.” He snatched a book off the shelf so he’d have a hard surface to write on and took it to his prisoner.

“Thanks.”

Hy returned to his chair, tilted it on the back legs and propped his well-worn boots on the desk. He cast one last look at his prisoner before closing his eyes.

Deputy Hyram Abercrombie startled awake when he heard the noise at the door. The noise had been fairly light and his first impression was that someone was trying to break into the jailhouse. But then the noise came again
and again almost as if someone were throwing a rubber ball against the metal door. By reflex Hy reached for his gun belt and strapped it on. He unholstered his gun before he slid back the small bolt on the Judas hole. No one was there and yet even as he gaped at the empty sidewalk and street, the sound continued. He could tell whatever was hitting the door was doing so around the level of his knees. It was probably some stray dog thumping its tail against the door, he thought sarcastically, as he looked back to the cells to see if anyone would see him make a fool of himself. Only one prisoner was awake, Blake Warner, and he was due to swing in the morning. It could be a ploy to break him out by Northern supporters.

Hy took a deep breath as he cocked his pistol. In one swift move
, he unbolted the lock and yanked open the door and a child tumbled into the room, landing on his dusty boots. He was relieved at first but then as he picked the child up, feeling the weakness in her limbs and the moist heat of sweat radiating from her body, he became alarmed. She was dressed in a white cotton nightgown, torn and covered in dirt and grass stains. She couldn’t have been more than four or five and it was nearly three in the morning. The girl was breathing so hard she was unable to speak.

Hy tried to set the girl on her feet but she sagged to the ground and pointed outside unable to get air into her lungs.

“What is it, darlin’? Is something wrong?”

“Men…” she gasped. “
Help.”

“I don’t understand. Take a minute and catch your breath.”

The tot pointed at the street again. “Hurry,” she said breathlessly. “Hurry.”

Blake Warner rose from his seat on the bunk and
moved to the bars. The girl looked like the little girl he’d given candy to just before his arrest.

“Lolly?”

Her head jerked up at her name.

“Do you know her?”

“You arrested me half a mile from their farm. That’s the little Morgan girl. My God, they live three or four miles outside of town. Did she run all the way here?”

Hy tried to set her on her feet again but supported her weight so he could look her in the face. “Is that
who you are? Are you Lolly Morgan?” She nodded. “Did you run all the way here?” She nodded again.

“Don’t just stand there,” Blake urged. “There is something seriously wrong. Go wake up the Sheriff and get out to that farm. I’m not going anywhere.”

The deputy scooped up the girl as he moved toward the door.

“Maybe you should leave her here with me,” Blake said.

“And have you used this baby as a hostage?”

Still convinced someone wanted to rescue their spy; Hy eased the girl back to the ground and grabbed a set of shackles out of a wooden box under the shelves. He took them over to the spy and shackled him to the bars, then left, taking the child and locking the metal exterior door. A moment later, Blake heard the sound of a horse moving away from the jail at a fast clip.

Blake could not clear his mind enough to find sleep. It didn’t matter, he supposed, since he was going to swing in the morning. He closed his eyes and conjured up a vision of Meredith in his mind and wondered if he loved her. He never thought he could love any woman but he
certainly couldn’t think of much else. In his letter, he told her he loved her even though he refused to believe it could be true. But since he was to swing in the morning, he wanted her to believe he did. What harm would there be in letting his widow remember him fondly.

Blake tried to get comfortable with his hand attached to the bars but found it almost impossible. He wished the deputy would come back soon and let him know what happened at the Morgan’s farm. The longer his absence drew out, the more worried Blake became. From his cell he heard a number of horses and wagons on the street. There was an awful lot of commotion for the middle of the night for a small town the size of Chimeric Valley. At first they all seemed to be headed towards the farm. Then later, some of the traffic seemed to be coming into town from that direction. But still no one came back to the jail.

The sun came up. A different deputy showed up and questioned Blake about deputy Abercrombie’s absence. After unshackling Blake and taking him and the other prisoners out to the privy, the deputy locked him back up without the manacles. A few minutes later, that deputy also departed for the Morgan’s farm.

By midmorning, townspeople began knocking on the door trying to find out if there was going to be a hanging or not. Had it not been for the strong door, Blake probably would have swung that day, but in all the chaos, Blake had been forgotten.

It was after noon when the sheriff and the deputies returned to the jail. Blake hadn’t eaten all day but really hadn’t had much of an appetite. He sat in his cell and listened, trying to understand what occurred. It wasn’t until the citizens of the town came in asking questions that Blake found out the woman he had spoken to the day before was dead. As was her husband. The boy, Pete, had nearly bled to death. He’d been stabbed and his tongue cut out so he couldn’t tell anyone who had committed the crime.

They had no suspects, no evidence,
no motive. They had been unable to find tracks but suspected it was more than one person they were looking for because Anna Morgan had been gutted with a knife and Howard Morgan had been shot with a shotgun. Lolly hadn’t been able to add much, only that there was a lot of yelling when Pete woke her up. He opened the small window in the pantry where they slept, helped her outside and told her to fetch men to help.

Lolly sat next to her unconscious brother waiting for him to wake up. Her patience was gone. Quietly, she called his name with no response. She tickled his sensitive feet through the covers and then mercilessly moved her attention to his ticklish ribs. She even tickled his nose with her hair. Lolly sat back on her heels, tears began to form in her eyes. She grabbed him by the shoulders and began to shake him. “Petey, wake up! Wake up! Please,” she cried. “Wake up!”

The doctor’s wife heard the commotion and ran into the room.
“Lolly! What are you doing, you naughty girl.” Her tone gave no doubt that Lolly was in trouble. “You’re going to wake the dead.”

Lolly jump from the bed on the opposite side from Mrs. Morris. When the woman began coming towards her, Lolly slid under the bed. “I want my ma!”

“Now you know that’s not possible,” the woman said getting on her knees. As soon as she reached under the bed, Lolly darted out from under the other side and out the door. Mrs. Morris had barely cleared the bedroom door herself when she heard the screen door slam.

From his cell, Blake heard what, at first, he thought was the squeal of children playing. But as the sound came closer, he heard the panic and more than that, he heard his name being called.

“Help me, Uncle Blake! Help me!”

The little girl appeared in the open doorway. She paused only a moment before running past the startled deputy to Blake’s cell, her little arms reaching through the bars. Blake arrived at the bars only a second before her.

“Lolly, what’s wrong?”

“Chasin’ me,” she panted. “Save me. She’s gonna kill me.”

Just then the doctor’s wife skidded to a halt in the doorway. It took her a moment to realize she held her skirt halfway up her calves. She put one hand on her chest as she tried to catch her breath. “You!” she gasped as she pointed at Lolly.

Lolly screamed again and reached deeper into the cell as if she could somehow pull herself through the bars.

“What the hell’s going on here?” Hyram Abercrombie grabbed the girl by the waist to get her away from his dangerous prisoner and to give her back to her caregiver.

Lolly let out a scream that could have brought the walls of Jericho down. She tried to hold onto Blake but her grip gave way as the deputy pulled her. She caught the bars and held on for dear life.