Mission of Hope (22 page)

“He told you this?” Bauers obviously knew nothing of this new bargain.

“And I believed him,” Quinn replied bitterly. “I took all those risks on his word, fool that I am.”

“Major Simon is an honorable man who's given me no reason to think he'd do something so outrageous,” Papa said.

A knock came on the door, bringing everyone in the room to a standstill. Papa looked at Bauers, then at Quinn.

“That has to be Major Simon,” Nora said, coming over to her father. “Papa, don't let him in.”

“Of course I'm going to let him in. It's the only way we can get to the bottom of this.”

“He'll deny it. It'll be his word against mine.” Quinn called after Papa to no effect. Despite his injuries, Quinn looked as if he might bolt for the back door at any minute. In his condition, he'd get all of two blocks before Simon or who knows how many other members of the army would be at his heels. Panic burrowed under Nora's ribs, stealing her breath and making her heart gallop.

 

Simon strode into the room as if he ruled the world. “Quinn, are you all right?”

How he managed to appear so concerned was beyond
Quinn's reckoning. “Only just,” Quinn ground out through clenched teeth. He found himself using every ounce of the major's lessons on focusing anger—all trained on not thrusting a knife into the man's ribs this very minute.

“He's been shot,” Nora said curtly. “As I assume you know.”

“Nora!” Mr. Longstreet didn't much care for his daughter's tone. That was fine with Quinn; he didn't much care for his so-called ally's betrayal, either.

The major only raised an eyebrow. “So your man told me. I'd actually heard from one of my regiments that there was talk of the Messenger being shot.” Simon looked straight at him. “I was out looking for you…”

“Or sending thugs out after me?” Quinn cut in.

“…when one of my lieutenants came to find me, saying someone had come to the fort pleading for me to come here. Here, Quinn? However did you end up here?”

“A man can only go so far with a bullet in his leg,” Quinn replied darkly, “But then again you knew that. I suppose I should be thankful not all your trainees are as good a shot as I am, Major?”

“Gentlemen!” Reverend Bauers stood between them. “Can we please remember where we are?”

“So you admit, Major, that Freeman is the Midnight Messenger?”

“He was working for me as that, yes.”

“I do not work for
you!
” Quinn shot back. He'd always known Simon thought of him merely as another gun in his arsenal.

“It was actually me who put these two together, Mr. Longstreet.” Bauers put his hands up between Quinn
and the major. “I knew of Quinn's desire to help in this…unusual fashion, and I felt the major's skills and resources would make for an excellent partnership.”

Some partnership. Quinn could barely keep from voicing the thought.

Bauers looked at Simon with narrowed eyes. “Did I misjudge, Albert?”

“It was a brilliant idea, Reverend.” Simon leveled his glare at Quinn. “At the time. I fear it's gone too far for all concerned.”

“Do you, now?” Quinn's knuckles itched to knock a dent into that dignified jaw. The searing pain in his thigh was making it harder and harder to keep a lid on his temper. He felt Nora's hand settle on his arm, cool and steady, and he willed those qualities into his thundering nerves. Major Simon saw her gesture, and raised an eyebrow again. Quinn didn't care one bit for the look of disdain that settled in his eyes.

“I wasn't aware,” Major Simon said as he took very particular notice of Nora's gesture. “How unfortunate a complication. Quinn, you exceed my expectations at every turn.”

“I expect I do,” Quinn said. He felt his body begin to break out in a sweat and wondered how much longer he'd be able to stand.

“Mr. Freeman claims he was fired upon by your orders.” Mr. Longstreet sounded entirely too much like he'd already made up his mind on the subject. Quinn wondered why he was surprised. What good was the word of someone like him against the upstanding Major Simon?

Simon looked from Nora's father to Quinn. Could no one else see the supreme annoyance, the carefully veiled
anger in Simon's eyes? Quinn realized with a sinking sensation that the major could lie through his teeth this very moment and everyone in the room would believe it. His future was lost; any chance at the education or commission—if he lived long enough to even consider it—was long gone now.

“I believe,” Simon said smoothly, “that the Messenger has made enemies. Enemies that might go to great lengths to make him suspect his own had betrayed him. As such, I have no doubt that Mr. Freemen believes I sent those thugs after his life.”

“I never
said
anything about a group.” Quinn pointed a finger at Simon.

Simon didn't skip a beat. “It's always a group. Cowards travel in packs.” Simon turned to Nora's father. “I'm so sorry this business has ended up on your doorstep. Why don't you let me see to Freeman's wounds at the fort infirmary. We can protect him there, too, from whomever it is that's done this. And I insist we post a guard outside this house for the next twenty-four hours. I've no intention of your kindness bringing you further trouble.”

“Papa, don't you dare let him take Quinn!” Nora burst out. Quinn's heart both swelled at the thought of her championing him and broke knowing that her efforts would come to no use. Defying her father only made it worse. The strongest-standing wall in San Francisco—the mile-high societal wall—had defeated him in the end. The only thing he could do now was save Nora from her own sweet loyalty to him. He tried to slide her hand from his shoulder, but she only clasped him harder, puzzlement in her eyes.

“Nora, I think you should go upstairs and join your
mother and aunt.” Mr. Longstreet was dismissing his daughter with the same patronizing tone Simon used with Quinn.

“Absolutely not. I will not stand here and allow you to send Quinn off with someone who means to do him harm. Not after all he's done for this family. For me.”

Simon looked at Nora. “Do you really believe me capable of such evil, Miss Longstreet? I'm disappointed. I'd rather thought I'd made quite an impression on you.” He actually smiled, and Quinn realized he'd underestimated Simon's cleverness. “Let's have this business over with, Longstreet. I'll protect the man until we can get to the bottom of this.”

Quinn shot a panicked look to Bauers, knowing all too well what fate awaited him if he went to Fort Mason tonight.

“Perhaps it would be best for all concerned if I took Quinn with me,” Bauers offered. “Grace House is as safe a place for him as any, and I'm sure I can tend to his wounds. There's no need to trouble the major further.”

“Oh, I hardly think that's wise,” countered Major Simon.

“No, I think that's by far the best choice,” Nora declared, coming round to stand in front of her father. “Until we can sort this out.”

Quinn had had just about enough of people thinking for him. “It's clear I'm not dying,” he said, looking at the reverend, “so I'll make my own choice, thanks. Reverend, if you'll drop me off, I'll tend to
myself. At home.
” He didn't care one whit that no one in the room seemed to think this a good idea. With a wave for Bauers
to follow him, Quinn pushed himself down the hallway toward the front door.

And watched it fade into a yawning cave of blackness.

N
ora thought she would never survive the night. It was getting on toward dawn, and she hadn't slept one wink. It was bad enough that she'd barely convinced them to let Reverend Bauers take Quinn back to Dolores Park on the shared but unspoken idea that Quinn would probably only make it as far as Grace House. Bauers pushed hard for this, despite Major Simon's objections. When Quinn slumped to the ground a second time as they argued, Nora burst out crying. Papa was so shocked—and Simon so disgusted—that the whole lot of them left in such a commotion that Nora realized she never did learn where Quinn would spend the night.

She was angry enough with herself for that bit of foolishness, but the scolding Mama gave her after everyone left was worse. She looked so disappointed in her, so incapable of understanding why Nora would ever do something so irrational as take up with “his kind.” As if Nora had betrayed her entire family and everyone's hope for happiness. The only reason Mama stopped short of likening her to Annette and her terrible fate was that Aunt Julia had come downstairs.

No one seemed to care that her own happiness was in more ruins than the city. Perhaps that was what made it so easy to throw all caution to the wind, get dressed and go find Quinn. The soldier Major Simon had posted in front of their house evidently didn't take his charge too seriously, for she found him fast asleep on the house's front stoop. The sun was just coming up as, with a calm that certainly didn't fit her reckless circumstances, Nora set out.

The only reasonable place to start seemed to be Grace House. Still, it wasn't as if she could simply waltz out her front door and amble down the dark street before dawn alone.

Or could she?

The clang of a streetcar bell confirmed that the cars did run this early…after all, the docks never really shut down and people had to get to work. It struck her that she'd never thought about anyone having to get to work at such a terrible hour, but certainly it happened to people every day. There was so much she never saw before this. So much she never considered.

It was colder than she expected, and by all rights she ought to be tired, but the exhilaration of her mission made the blocks fly by. It seemed only a matter of minutes before she was reaching into the pocket of her coat and handing coins to a very surprised man aboard the streetcar. She was glad that while his expression said “Out and about at this hour?” he never actually voiced it.

She'd never seen Grace House—or any of this part of the city, for that matter—at dawn. Despite the signs of destruction that still lingered everywhere, the neighborhood had a delicate calm, tinted rose and gold by
the sunrise and peppered with tiny clusters of people coming and going. There was something poetic and uncluttered in the simplicity of the people going about their daily business. Quinn had once used the word fussy to describe things in Lafayette Park. He'd meant it as a jest, a good-natured teasing when she'd turned her nose up at something, but looking around, the word fit. She realized, as she turned the corner into the back kitchen door of the friendly, tattered mission building, that perhaps its unfussiness is exactly what attracted her to Grace House. Why the simple chapel felt more holy to her than the starched formal sanctuary of their church up the hill in the “better” part of town.

Quinn
had
to be here. She couldn't fathom that Reverend Bauers would agree to let him be carted off to some horrible fate at Fort Mason. And he couldn't go home, not in that state, although she didn't think Quinn had many other choices. The cook looked surprised—and rather annoyed—at being roused hours before breakfast.

“What are the likes of you doing here? At this hour?” He yawned.

“I'm looking for Reverend Bauers…and Quinn Freeman.” When the hefty man stared blankly at her, she added, “It's terribly important.”

“I imagine it is,” he said, motioning her into the cold kitchen. The fires hadn't even been lit for the day's meals yet. “You sit here and I'll go fetch him.”

“Thank you.” It suddenly struck her, as she sat down on one of the benches that lined the worktable, how cold and tired she really was. Everything seemed so out of joint and jumbled. What must Quinn be feeling? Thinking? Was he in much pain? He was so very dark and
angry—a side of him she'd only seen even a glimpse of the time he'd rescued her.
Oh, Lord, watch over him. I don't know what to say to him, what to do.

“Odd,” the cook remarked, yawning again as he came back into the kitchen. “He ain't here. Looks like he left in a hurry, though. One of the boys says he ain't been back for hours now.”

So he
hadn't
been successful in keeping Quinn from the major. The thought turned Nora's blood to ice.
No.
She wouldn't consider that possibility. The reverend must have found some way to get him all the way to Dolores Park. Or elsewhere. Maybe the resourceful Reverend Bauers had many secret hiding places. There really was only one place to go next: Quinn's mother in Dolores Park.

Twenty minutes later with her pulse pounding in her ears, Nora took a deep breath and knocked on the entrance to Quinn's shelter in Dolores Park. “Quinn?” she called, even as she knew the folly of thinking he'd actually made it here, “Mrs. Freeman?”

After a moment of rustling from inside, Mrs. Freeman poked a half-asleep face out of the doorway. “Miss Longstreet?”

“Is…is Quinn here?”

She frowned even as her eyes widened. “What's happened to Quinn?” she asked, alarm cutting sharp edges on her words.

There was nothing for it. Nora lost her battle with her composure and began to cry. “Something's happened, Mrs. Freeman, something terrible.”

Mrs. Freeman pulled Nora into the shelter and sat her down. A quick version of the entire story was nearly impossible, but Nora did the best she could as Mrs.
Freeman sat astounded. “Quinn? The Midnight Messenger? Of course—how could I not see it? All that time gone, those nights, the things that arrived. God save him, he's been the Messenger from the beginning.”

“But now it's all come crashing down,” Nora said, clutching Mrs. Freeman's hand as she relayed the story of the shooting, the confrontation in her parlor and how certain she was that if Quinn was not here, then he was surely in the clutches of Major Simon, and no good could come of that, even if Reverend Bauers was still up and about and trying to save him. “They fought terribly. Quinn is sure Simon put the price on his head, but I don't think my father believed him. Major Simon will do something to him, I know it.”

Mrs. Freeman, who now fought back tears of her own, stared at Nora for a long moment. Sighing, she reached out and touched Nora's cheek. “You care deeply for him, don't you?”

“I love your son,” Nora said, feeling the declaration of it settle her, drawing a surprising strength from the ability to say it out loud. “And I believe he loves me.”

Mrs. Freeman's eyes fell shut for a brief moment, then opened with such a tender expression in them. “I know he does, child. I'd suspected he'd finally lost his heart to someone, he just wouldn't tell me who. Now, perhaps I know why. Oh, darlin', I wouldn't wish such trouble on any lass.”

“It's Quinn who's in such trouble. I've got to help him. There
has
to be a way.” Quinn was so clever. What would he have done? Could she be as clever as he, now that his life might depend upon it? She tried to look for connections in all the various pieces of this mess. People. People loved the Messenger; they might rise
up to save him if they knew he was endangered. Or at least keep Simon from doing anything that might be poorly misconstrued. Simon was on the lookout for his good prospects—maybe there was a way to leverage that. A plan—one might even say a scheme—began to form in her head. There wasn't time to think it all the way through—she'd just have to make it up as they went along. “Mrs. Freeman, how many people know Quinn?”

“Nearly everyone. Quinn's always had many friends—at home and here. And I'd guess the Midnight Messenger has even more.”

“What if…Mrs. Freeman, can you pull together an army of your own? Major Simon would never do anything to the Midnight Messenger in public, so I think we'll simply have to bring the public to the Messenger.”

“Fill the fort with people? Wouldn't the army shoot at a mob like that?”

“Not if reporters were there. And if it was clear the people were looking for the Messenger, the army couldn't do anything that might get in the papers. Simon will have to bring Quinn out. He's got to be in there, Mrs. Freeman, I can't see where else he'd be. It's the only thing I can think of to do.”

“Well now, I don't see how I've got much choice. Got my son, does he?” Mrs. Freeman stood up. “I'd say it's high time Major Simon had more visitors that he'll know what to do with.”

 

Nora felt her strength mount as she walked back to Grace House. The sun was up, she'd fashioned a plan even Quinn would admire and her determination to see
it through was galvanizing with each step. She prayed as she walked, beseeching God to bless her efforts and to keep Quinn safe—even though the panicked thought occurred that it might already be too late if Major Simon was as dark as she suspected.
“No,”
she prayed aloud,
“Lord, You can't have brought him through the earthquake only to meet that end. I won't believe it.”
I can't, she added in a tight, frightened corner of her heart.

Grace House held good and bad news. Reverend Bauers was there—looking exhausted and worried. Still, he confirmed that Quinn was still alive although in bad shape. He was being kept at Fort Mason for his own protection, the reverend reported with an expression that told Nora he shared the same doubts as to Quinn's prospects under the major's watch. The challenge came when Papa stormed through the front door in search of his daughter.

“Come back home,” he ordered. Nora thought being in a house of God was the only thing currently keeping a lid on Papa's temper. She'd never seen him like this, and it should have frightened her into submission. It didn't. Instead, it steeled her determination to do what she knew was right. Papa could not see that now, and that couldn't be helped. She'd spend all her efforts to convince him later, but for now defiance was the only route open to her.

“I'm sorry, Papa,” she said in a voice so steady it surprised even her. “I must do this.”

“Do what?” Papa said, exasperated. Reverend Bauers stood between them, cautious but willing to let her have her say.

“Try to save Quinn.”

Nora expected Papa to ask “from what?” thinking his
high regard for Major Simon wouldn't allow for the possibility of Quinn's current danger. Instead, Papa asked the most dangerous question of all: “Why?”

It should have been difficult. Frightening, even, to declare it to Papa after all his lectures. Instead, it came out with the ease of truth, necessary as breath. “Because I love him.”

Papa stared. For all Mama's suspicions, evidently Papa was genuinely stunned by her admission.

Reverend Bauers chose that moment to step in. “There's a good deal to sort out, no doubt, but I do agree with Nora that desperate measures are in order. Let me accompany her to Fort Mason and you have my word she will talk with you further about this. For the moment, time is very much of the essence.”

Before Papa could even gather his wits to respond, Reverend Bauers had Nora by the arm and they were heading out the back door to climb aboard the minister's rickety cart and head to Fort Mason. Nora prayed for Mama and Papa the whole way, for in some very real sense they'd lost the daughter they once had. She hoped the new, transformed daughter they now gained would still be welcomed when today's dust settled.

 

Annette would have been proud. For all her adventures, Nora's bold cousin had never spent a day such as this. As she stared out the window of Major Simon's office at Fort Mason, Nora could scarcely believe the size of the crowd Mrs. Freeman had gathered outside. Or that her plan had worked. Then again, perhaps Major Simon never stood a chance; once Mrs. Freeman discovered someone had placed her son in harm's way for
his own gain, Nora was sure God's ears burned with the justice she called down upon the major's head.

He'd never looked so unnerved. “Are you quite sure, Miss Longstreet, that your father's only the postmaster?” His words were smooth, but his knuckles were white as he put down his pen. “It seems to me you've a politician's blood running through your veins.”

“I'd think twice about that phrase ‘only the postmaster,' Major,” Reverend Bauers advised. “This entire plan was Nora's doing. I fear she could easily devise another one nowhere near as favorable to you. And I am quite astounded at how enamored with her those two reporters are at present.”

When Major Simon had refused an earlier meeting, Nora wasn't surprised. She hadn't ever expected the major to cooperate. Instead, Nora asked Reverend Bauers to take her to the offices of the city newspaper. It had been far easier than she imagined to get the reporter to follow her back to Fort Mason. The exclusive revelation of the Midnight Messenger's true identity was far too good a story to miss. And evidently, when one reporter rushes out of his office, others hear about it soon enough; now no less than four photographers were currently waiting outside with the crowd of refugees from Dolores Park.

Bauers had been busy as well. As Nora met with the reporter, he'd used the newspaper wire service to arrange for a hefty reward for the names of the army officers who'd been given the instructions to let word out about the price on the Messenger's head. The size of the reward wired from one Sir Matthew Covington—a friend of Quinn's from England, who, thanks be to God, happened to be in New York on business—ensured
quick success. In addition to that, Nora could now ensure that the men's corroboration of Quinn's story reached her parents' ears.