Shadow of Dawn (34 page)

Finally he turned to her, and there was
something like dread in his expression. It only heightened her
feeling of doom.

“I’ve been doing some investigating of your
Major Pierce. I suppose you know that until very recently he was a
newspaper writer. He rose rather fast in the ranks, don’t you
think?”

She endeavored to look disinterested. “Maybe
he went to West Point or the Military Institute here in Virginia.
They get fast promotions, don’t they? And why do you call him my
major?”

He paused, and then said softly, “I had hoped
you would be truthful with me, Catherine. I had hoped you would
save us both a lot of pain.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Clayton Pierce is a Yankee spy.”

She stared at him. “That’s ridiculous!” she
answered, but fear gave a rough edge to her voice. Was he about to
prove the one thing in all the world that she could not bear?

A deep and barely hidden anger emanated from
the man next to her. “I know everything. Miranda told me. She heard
you telling Ephraim.” He gave a disgusted oath. “You believed him!
A man who came here to deceive you, to pretend to be me! You
married him!”

Catherine’s mouth had gone so dry she
couldn’t speak.

“Open your eyes, Catherine! He’s been
deceiving you all along. That’s part of his job. He used you to get
information from Bart— crucial information about supplies. He is
the mysterious leader of this group, and none of them even knew it.
He’s been moving them around like…like pieces in a game of
chess.”

“No,” she said. “No.”

“I know all about him. He’s fooled a lot of
people, but I’m going to end it. How do you know he didn’t murder
Bart?”

“He didn’t!”

“You were there. You saw what happened.”

She could only shake her head.

“I said I knew everything, but not quite all.
Miranda missed some of it…the part where you talked about Bart. She
didn’t know he was dead until after the officer came. But I do know
you were there, Catherine, the night Bart died. Do you want to know
how
I know?”

She kept staring at him, mesmerized.

“That cap they found that has so mysteriously
disappeared. I went to look at it the day they found Bart. It had a
hair inside it. A long, beautiful red hair.”

“I wasn’t…I didn’t…”

“Was Pierce there that night?”

She wouldn’t answer. Her eyes darted around
the carriage, landing on the door handle.

He reached out and grabbed her by the
shoulders.
“Was he there?”

She wrenched away from him, edging closer to
the door.

Tears came to his eyes. “Oh, Catherine, we
could have been happy, you and I. You’ve ruined everything. Your
marriage to Pierce is nothing but a sham. You are my wife!”

He reached for her again. She made a lunge
for the door, opened it, and jumped down to the ground. She had run
only a few feet when she thought to turn around and shout to Tad.
To her horror, a man she had never seen before gazed down at her
from the driver’s seat.

Her eyes ran rapidly over the landscape. A
large clearing spread out in front of her, the stumps of trees
protruding a few inches out of the ground. If she made it to the
other side she could hide among the trees and perhaps find another
road.

She heard Andrew getting out of the carriage.
Without turning to look she raced forward, holding her skirts
high.

“Stop!” Andrew cried. “I’m not going to hurt
you!”

She did not look back; she dared not take her
eyes from the ground. She didn’t know if he was pursuing her. She
only knew that she would not stay and listen to another word he
said.

“Catherine, come back!”

Was his voice closer? She couldn’t tell. She
kept running.

She reached the edge of the woods and
stopped, trying to think which way to turn. Suddenly she heard a
sound crashing through the undergrowth toward her. A horse neighed
wildly.

She drew in gulps of air, her hand clutching
at a pain in her side. The horse drew closer before she could move,
rearing up on its hind legs before her.

A man dismounted and ran to her. He grabbed
her and pulled her toward him as she stared in disbelief.

“Clayton,” she gasped. “Clayton!”

“Are you hurt?” he demanded. “Where’s
Kelly?”

“I ran away from him. He was saying
things—”

A shot rang through the air, the bullet so
close Catherine could hear the whine as it passed her ear.
Instantly Clayton jerked her up and pushed her against a tree.
Standing behind the tree next to her, he drew out his pistol.

They heard Andrew yell, “Stop shooting, you
fool! Clayton Pierce, I know you’re there! I see your horse. I am
unarmed.”

Clayton didn’t move. “Catherine, how many
men?” he asked tersely.

“Two. Just Andrew and the driver.”

“Where’s your driver?” Clayton shouted.

“He’s here, behind me.”

“Tell him to drop his weapon.”

“Jennings, drop your gun!” Clayton moved out
slightly so he could see. Catherine, too, peeked cautiously around
the tree. Andrew stood in the middle of the clearing, his hands
spread at his sides. Some distance behind him the driver had flung
his pistol to the ground and stood scowling at them.

“He’s just a hired man,” Andrew said. “I’ll
explain about him later, Catherine. I’m going to have to kill you,
Pierce, but not here. Not in front of my wife.”

Clayton stepped out, keeping his pistol
leveled on Andrew. “We’re going to solve this, Kelly, once and for
all.”

Andrew stood motionless. Clayton ran his
hands briefly over the man’s clothing, looking for weapons. He
found none.

“Catherine, stay there,” he ordered, making
Andrew walk in front of him toward the carriage and telling him to
get in first. Then—it happened so fast Catherine barely saw it.
Jennings’s hand slipped inside his boot and withdrew clasping the
hilt of a knife. Clayton must have seen him out of the corner of
his eye, for his gun swung toward the man almost instantaneously.
There was a shot and a puff of smoke, and Jennings struck the
ground with a heavy thud.

“Catherine, come here,” Clayton called.
“Bring my horse.”

Unable to mount the huge beast, Catherine
rather timidly caught the reins and walked the horse toward the
carriage. When she reached it, she could see Andrew sitting inside,
glaring at Clayton. “Hand me that rope, please, Catherine. Kelly,
get out.”

Andrew got out of the carriage. He kept his
eyes on Catherine, who held the pistol while Clayton tied his hands
behind his back.

“I tried to tell you about him,” he said
quietly. “Why won’t you believe me? He’s going to kill me, just as
he did Ingram, and Jennings there. I brought him along to protect
us from Pierce.”

Clayton laughed shortly. “It was a good try,
Kelly. But it’s over.” He tugged at the body on the ground,
hoisting it up and dumping it into the carriage. “Get in,” he said.
“See how you like riding with a dead man.”

Andrew climbed back in, and Clayton slammed
the door shut. He looked at Catherine. “Ride back to the road.
Ephraim’s waiting there on a horse. When you left, he followed the
carriage for a while but lost you when you turned onto this road.
He went back, hoping to find me or some other officer, when I ran
into him. I was on my way to the Henderson’s. He told me you were
attacked, and he said he felt uneasy about your riding out with
Andrew. He led me out here and showed me the spot where he lost
sight of the carriage. I kept looking until I found you.”

She flung her arms around him. “Oh, Clayton,
I thought he was going to kill me!”

He held her close for a moment. “Everything’s
going to be all right now. We’re going back to the Henderson’s.
Here, get on the horse. Don’t be afraid of him…he won’t throw
you.”

Clayton helped her up. She looked down from
the great height, her skirts spread out in an unladylike manner.
“Oh, my,” she said, hanging on to the pommel.

“You’ll be fine. I’ll be right behind
you.”

The horse seemed to move of its own accord,
as though sensing her indecision. She heard the squeak of the
carriage as Clayton climbed up and slapped the reins.

The carriage had not gone far down the
logging road. Soon she reached the main road, where Ephraim waited
patiently on a horse. His worried face broke into a wide grin when
he saw her.

“Miss Catherine, thank the Lord! Mr. Clayton
told me to stay here no matter what, and I heard two gunshots. I
been beseeching the Lord till I’m about to give out!”

“Well, you saved me, Ephraim. You and the
Lord.”

“Mostly Him,” Ephraim said humbly. “Is that
Mr. Clayton driving? My eyesight’s not so good anymore. Where’s Mr.
Andrew?”

“Inside the carriage.”

“Who was driving before? He didn’t take Tad
or Joseph either one. That’s one thing that scared me.”

“I don’t know who the man was.
He’s…dead.”

Ephraim’s brow stretched upward but he said
nothing more. By the time they reached the Henderson home through
the city traffic, it had grown almost dark. Clayton drove into the
carriage house, opened the door, and told Andrew to get out.

Andrew obeyed. He had an implacable look on
his face, as though he considered the matter far from over.

Catherine and the butler preceded them into
the house. Seeing lights in the parlor, they entered it
together.

“Ephraim, where have you been!” came Sallie’s
angry voice. “And why is this woman here? I—”

She stopped as Andrew came in, his hands
still bound behind him. Her eyes moved to Clayton, becoming
enormous.

“Martin, what is going on?” She took a step
backward and clutched at her husband’s arm. Miranda, a jumble of
snarled knitting in her hands, peered around them as if trying to
hide.

“Andrew?” said Martin in a questioning
tone.

Andrew gave a rather sour smile. “It seems
there’s been a misunderstanding.”

Catherine saw Mrs. Shirley standing in the
back of the room by the fireplace. She returned Catherine’s stare
imperviously.

Clayton observed the look. “Mrs. Shirley was
with me when I met Ephraim. I sent her over here in case Kelly
brought you back, Catherine. I didn’t want you alone with him, not
after the things we found out.”

“Lies,” Andrew said, his teeth clenched in
anger. “Don’t listen to him, Catherine.”

“We can trace you back to several months
ago,” Clayton said. He had replaced his gun in its belt and leaned
a little back against the wall, his arms folded. “You were living
in a rental house just outside the city. You rarely went out or saw
anyone. You were the leader of a select group, hired by a man who
was originally on General Burnside’s staff.”

Catherine sat down abruptly. Clayton’s
revelations were not what she had expected to hear. Everyone else
remained standing as though spellbound, looking from Clayton to
Andrew.

“This man paid you for information about the
Confederacy…troop movements, numbers, supplies. You set up the
group. You located someone you thought could get you the
information the North wanted. You found someone to relay the
information to Bart, who wrote it out in code and found ways to get
it to the Yankees.

“You laid the plans, you managed all
communications, but you did almost everything by correspondence.
You received the payments and doled them out. Most of them had no
idea who they were dealing with. Only a few of them ever saw you.
But they all knew they were selling out their country.”

“This is insane,” Andrew said. “You can’t
prove any of it.”

“Oh, but I can,” Clayton answered. “Because
the person who obtained the information for Bart Ingram has
talked.”

Andrew looked long and hard at Clayton.
Finally he said, “I can’t feel my hands. Would you be so kind as to
untie them? I can hardly do anything with so many against me.”

“We’re not against you, Cousin!” cried
Miranda. “I don’t believe a word of it.” She turned indignantly
toward Clayton. “I just can’t stand it! Andrew is not a criminal.
Untie him at once!”

“No,” said Clayton calmly.

“Please, sir.” It was Ephraim who spoke, very
quietly. “It’s not right to make a human being suffer.”

“He’s made plenty of people suffer,” Clayton
replied, “as you will soon discover.”

“That don’t make it right, sir.” After a
moment Clayton relented, moving his coat aside to reveal a long
knife in a sheath tied around his waist. He cut the ropes and
replaced the knife.

Andrew rubbed his wrists, looking at Clayton.
“Thank you.”

Catherine asked, in a faint voice, “This
person between Andrew and Bart, the one who passed along military
intelligence…who was it?”