The Dixie Widow (19 page)

He wrapped the soldier in a blanket and buried him beneath a large oak in the middle of a clearing. With the mound at his feet, Thad prayed, then turned and loaded the wagon.
He drove the team hard that day, and made camp by a brook, breaking the ice to get water to make coffee. He ate a little and read a chapter from his dog-eared Testament. A thought struck him, and he went to the wagon and got the knapsack Morgan had brought with him.

It was an ordinary army knapsack, and contained Owen’s personal effects, including several pictures, one of them a full-faced portrait of a strong-looking woman with warm eyes and a determined chin. It was signed Kathleen Morgan, but even without the name, Thad would have known her as Owen’s mother.

He read several letters from her, and two from a girl who signed her name Angharad Gruffydd. He wondered at the strange name, and read only a part of one of the letters, for it was a love letter and he felt like an intruder.

There was a pouch with forty-two Confederate dollars, nothing else. And he remembered Owen’s insistence that his mother receive half the money. But since it was so little, Thad decided, “I’ll send it all—everything in here.”

He started to put the knapsack down when a lump in the bottom attracted his attention. He felt inside—nothing. He turned it upside down and peered within, noticing that the seams along the bottom had been taken out and replaced with different thread. Carefully he pulled the thread loose and discovered papers stuffed between the inner and outer linings.

He reached in with two fingers, grasped a paper, and pulled it out. Holding the paper up to the fire, he blinked and gasped, for what he held was a crisp U.S. greenback worth $100. Quickly he pulled the other notes out with trembling fingers and counted them.

“Six thousand two hundred dollars!” he gasped, and realized this was Owen’s winnings from gambling. Thad knew little about money, but one thing he was sure of:
this paper was as good as gold.
As a matter of fact, it could be exchanged for gold under certain circumstances. Mr. Winslow had done
so more than once. The Confederate currency was practically worthless, but Thad held a fortune in his hands.

What did Owen say as he was dying?
Thad questioned, staring at the money. Slowly the words seeped into his mind, like a prophecy:

I give you what I have on this earth—God has told me you’ll have a use for it.

Slowly Thad gathered up the bills and stared at them once more before tucking the bunch into his inside pocket. Two days later he caught up with Dooley and the others, and two days after that they reached Richmond. Thad arranged for the prisoners to be taken to Belle Isle; then he reported to headquarters.

“Letter for you here somewhere, Novak,” a fat lieutenant greeted him. “Been here for about a week.”

Thad took the letter gingerly, stared at the writing, and went outside. He didn’t recognize the script, but read the short note quickly.

Thad read the letter twice, then wheeled and walked back into the headquarters building. Two hours later, after a determined effort and a stubbornness that would not be ignored, he left with a pass permitting him to visit Lieutenant Davis Winslow, prisoner of war at Libby Prison.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

A SLIGHT CASE OF BRIBERY

Ezra Lee looked up from where he was slumped against the wall, shot to an upright position, and jabbed Hale with a pointed elbow.

“Keep your elbows to yourself!” Hale grunted.

“Perry. Lookee what’s here!”

Hale roused himself. Across the crowded room in the direction of Ezra’s wave, he saw a Confederate officer moving slowly toward them, searching the faces of the men as he came.

“Seems to be looking for somebody,” Hale remarked. “Maybe the Rebels are coming here to do some recruiting. I hear they’re down to old men and boys now.”

Lee rubbed his whiskers. “Well, another month in this hole, and I might consider it.”

The officer was no more than ten feet away now. Hale scrutinized the man’s dark face as he looked around and called out, “Anybody here know where I can find Lieutenant Davis Winslow?”

Surprised, Hale and Lee jumped to their feet. “We can take you to him, Lieutenant,” Hale said.

“I’d be obliged,” the officer told them. “I’m Thad Novak.”

“I’m Captain Perry Hale and this is Lieutenant Ezra Lee,” Hale nodded, and was surprised when Novak stuck out his hand. Hale and Lee grasped the young officer’s hard grip, and Perry motioned, “He’s back in one of the smaller cells.”

Thad followed the two men across the crowded room, out into a corridor, and down a wide hall to the end.

“He’s in here, Lieutenant,” Lee indicated.

Thad entered the twenty-foot-square room. Sack mattresses were laid so close together that only narrow aisles served for movement. Several men were at one end of the room—some talking, others playing cards on their cots. Thad gave them all a searching glance. None resembled Davis.

“He’s over here,” Hale informed him, stepping over to a far corner of the room where a man lay wrapped in a blanket. He leaned over, giving the still form a gentle shake. “Davis—a visitor to see you.”

Thad came closer. The man did not move. “Is he unconscious?” he asked, leaning closer to get a better look.

“Off and on. He’s been real bad for a long time, Lieutenant,” Ezra said. “Sometimes he don’t wake up for a couple of days at a stretch.”

Hale tapped softly on the man’s cheek. “Wake up, Davis.”

Thad’s eyes widened at the sight of the man. “Why, this isn’t Winslow!” Thad had pictured Davis as he last saw him—a robust healthy man, overweight, with red cheeks and glowing eyes.

This man is a wreck!
he groaned inwardly. His frame looked like parchment stretched over bones. His face was a skull, the muscles shrunken, making the bones stand out like ledges. The deep-set eyes, dull and lifeless, were round balls staring out of cavernous sockets. The lips, covered with sores, were pulled back, exposing yellowed teeth. Stench reeked from the man.

“Guess he don’t look much like you remember him,” Lee remarked grimly. “But it’s him all right.”

Appalled, Thad squatted down, the other two men joining him. “I—I can’t believe it!” he gasped. He started to speak, then glanced at Davis, not wanting to say anything that would hurt him.

“He can’t hear you, Lieutenant,” Hale said. “Even when
he does wake up, he doesn’t even know Ezra and me half the time. Too much fever.”

“What’s wrong with his leg?”

“Got punched with a rusty nail some time back. Never has healed. He’ll likely lose that leg—if he lives long enough.”

Thad’s mind raced as he was forced to revise his plans. He had expected to find a man who was able to move swiftly, but now he knew he would have to find another way.

He studied Davis for a long moment, then looked up at the pair. “You two are friends of his?”

“We came to Libby with him,” Hale replied. “Man needs friends in a rotten place like this or he won’t make it.” He gave Thad a direct look. “What’s your interest in him, Lieutenant?”

Thad balanced the question in his mind, wondering what to say. They were the enemy, but he had to have help—and these two men were obviously Winslow’s friends.

Finally he said, “His brother did me a good turn once.”

Ezra nodded. “Well, you sure got a good chance to pay him back, Lieutenant. This boy ain’t goin’ to make it unless he gets help. He’ll be dead in a week—if he lasts
that
long.”

“I reckon you’re right,” Thad responded. “I got a letter from his grandfather, asking me to try to help him.”

Instantly Hale asked, “Would that be Captain Whitfield Winslow of Washington?”

Startled, Thad nodded eagerly. “You know him?”

“No, but I’ve been writing him a lot, trying to get some help for Davis.”

Thad decided he’d have to trust the two, and said in a hushed tone, “Let’s keep our voices down. I came to see if I could get him some better care, better food—but that won’t be enough.”

Hale and Lee expressed doubt. “You got another idea, Novak?” Hale asked.

Thad nodded, speaking softly. “We’ve got to get him out of here or he’ll die.”

“You could maybe get him transferred to another prison,”
Hale suggested. “But I doubt he would be any better off there.”

“No. We have to get him out,” Thad told them. “Out of prison and into a hospital where there’s a doctor and medicine.”

“Escape?” Hale couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “He can’t even sit up! And they guard this place like we was worth solid gold. Nobody’s
ever
made an escape from Libby.”

“There’s only six doors in the whole place,” Lee added. “And always at least two guards at each door. Most of us are in poor shape to do any running—but even if we were, where’d we go? Libby’s right in the middle of Richmond, which is swarmin’ with your troops. A man wouldn’t get two blocks before he was picked up.”

Thad shook his head stubbornly. “There’s always a way to do a thing,” he said. “All you got to do is find it.”

“Well, you better find it quick,” Hale told him. “I’ve gotten right fond of Davis. Anything we can do, just say it.”

Thad sat down on the floor to ease his side, which was beginning to ache. He noted their quizzical expression, and grinned. “One of your friends raked my ribs with a ball last week. I’m still a mite sore. Now, tell me about this place.”

“Tell you what?” Lee asked.

“When you eat, when visitors come, who the guards are—everything. Don’t leave anything out.”

Hale grinned and sat down, “Well, we don’t have any pressing engagements, do we, Ezra?”

“Nary a one.”

For over two hours Thad listened. Sometimes he would ask a question and carefully consider the answer. Once Davis woke up and stared at him, but didn’t recognize him or the others. Lee raised him up for a drink of water and he lay right back and closed his eyes.

Finally, Hale said, “Well, that’s all I can think of, Novak.” He looked at Thad. “You got any ideas?”

“Just a little one.” He reached into his pocket, took out a
single gold coin, and handed it to Hale. “Maybe that will buy some food or something to help. Use it for all of you, Hale.”

“By the good Lord—that’s a ten-dollar gold piece!” Lee gasped. “I ain’t seen no gold in so long I done forgot what it looks like! We can get some decent grub for that, Lieutenant!”

“And some medicine from LeCompt, too,” Hale added.

“That’s the doctor you mentioned?”

“He’s no doctor,” Perry shrugged. “He sure does want to be, though.”

“How’s that?” Thad listened while Hale told him about LeCompt’s burning desire to get away from the prison and into medical school. When he was through, Thad said, “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Lee watched him go. “You reckon he meant that, Perry?”

“I think he did. He’s got kind of a set look in his eyes.” Hale looked at the gold coin he held. “If it wasn’t for this piece of gold, I’d think I dreamed the whole thing.” He rolled the coin around in his hand and smiled. “Let’s see what it’ll buy, Ezra.”

****

Thad had gotten the gold piece by exchanging Morgan’s money. The bank teller had snapped the greenback and stared at him. “We don’t see many of these.”

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Thad asked.

“Of course, it is.” He counted out ten gold pieces and said gloomily, “Wish our Confederate money was as good.”

“I’ve got to send some money to a friend in another country. Would it be just as good to send greenbacks as gold?”

“Oh, a letter of credit would be better for that.” He explained the mechanics of the exchange, ending by saying, “Best not to send cash through the mail.” Thad decided to get Mr. Winslow to help with the matter of sending Morgan’s money to his mother.

“If a fellow were going to the North, then,” he had asked casually, “Greenbacks would be as good as gold?”

“Gold is always best—but this greenback will spend anywhere in the North.”

****

Thad had left the bank with some satisfaction. Now after his visit with Davis and his friends at the prison, he walked around the rest of the day, trying to formulate some plan to get Davis out. He had been given no assignment at headquarters, so there was no need for him to report for duty. The nine gold coins jingling in his pocket gave him a good feeling. He had never had even one gold piece, and since he had no other money, he decided to use one of the coins for a meal and a hotel room. He went to the Ballard House and reserved a room for a few days, then to the dining room for a meal. As he lingered over coffee, he considered asking Sky Winslow for help, but could find no way to justify it. Anyone caught aiding in the escape of a Union officer would be in serious trouble. “Can’t even let Pet know what’s going on,” he murmured as he left the dining room.

The streets were crowded with poorly dressed people. The years of being cut off from the outside world showed in frayed cuffs and skirts. The blockade had drawn so tight that only an occasional ship made it through—and most of those were loaded with arms and ammunition. The scanty diet showed in the faces of many, Thad noticed. Walking back to the hotel, he could feel the gloomy atmosphere. No longer did Richmond hold the gay celebrations she had when the war first started.

When Thad retired for the night, he found it impossible to sleep. His mind went round and round, but nothing seemed feasible. Around midnight he dozed off but awakened several times, still seeking desperately for some plan to free Davis. He woke up in the morning with a start, and as he swung his feet to the floor, he
knew
what to do. When the idea came he didn’t know—perhaps he dreamed it—but the whole plan was there.