Authors: Gilbert Morris
He left quickly—and didn’t return for what seemed like
an eternity. His face was pale as he held up a paper. “I’ve got it!—let’s go.”
They moved out of the infirmary, and the guard inquired, “Is it cholera, LeCompt?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so.”
The guard avoided them as they passed, and as they walked down the hall, they heard him say loudly, “Well, I ain’t stayin’ here—not me!”
LeCompt took a deep breath at the stairs. “That was rough. I thought he was going to make us wait until morning, but I told him it’d cause a panic among the guards.”
“He’ll do that—all by himself,” Hale projected. “What’s next.”
“The workshop.”
“Why there?”
“Because that’s where the coffins are made. I hope to heaven there’s one left!”
He led them past several guards. The permit worked like a charm. The last guard carried a lantern and preceded them into a large room. “There’s a couple of coffins, all right,” he said, waving his lantern toward the pine boxes.
“You men get one of them,” LeCompt ordered.
Lee and Hale put Winslow’s limp body down and moved to the two coffins. The top was nailed on, and Hale said, “Got to have a hammer to get this off.”
“Tools are over there,” the guard said, indicating a bench. While Hale went to get it, he said, “What’s the hurry, LeCompt? Couldn’t this wait till morning?”
“Why . . . I just think it’d be better if . . . if he didn’t stay in the prison any longer than necessary.”
He was being purposely mysterious, and was relieved at the guard’s immediate reaction.
“What’d he die of?” he demanded, stepping back.
“I can’t say. Warden’s orders.”
The guard glowered at him, then walked over to peer down at Winslow. The other men stood with bated breath. Then
the guard cursed and fled the room, rasping, “Get him outta here! The wagon’s over there!”
“Quick—get him inside!” LeCompt snapped, removing the hidden sack containing hospital uniforms. After they had put the “corpse” inside, he said, “Nail the lid on.”
Lee took a hasty look at Davis’s pale, still face before nailing the coffin shut.
“All right, get it on the wagon—wait, put these uniforms on it first.”
The men snatched the white uniforms from LeCompt and tossed them on the low four-wheeled wagon used for this purpose.
“Now—put the coffin on top.”
The coffin was heavy, but the men worked swiftly, and LeCompt cried, “Let’s go!”
Hale and Lee grabbed the long tongue of the wagon and pulled it past the guard, who gave them plenty of room. They rolled down the hall; then as they rounded the corner, LeCompt said, “Quick! Get into those clothes.”
Hale lifted one end of the coffin while Lee pulled the uniforms out. They pulled off their rags and put on the uniforms, shoving their rags under the coffin.
“So far, so good,” LeCompt said. “But we’ve got one final post.” His hands trembled as he pointed. “Don’t say a word—either of you.”
He took a deep breath, limped down the hall ahead of them, and opened a set of double doors. When the other two passed through, they saw they were in an outer office. Two guards sitting on a bench jumped up.
“I have a special order from Warden Holmes,” LeCompt stated before they could challenge him.
One of them, a burly man with calico eyes, fixed his eyes on LeCompt, then unfolded the paper and read it.
“What’s it say, Nick?” the other asked. He was a small man with heavy burnside whiskers.
“Says to get this feller buried.”
“What’s the big hurry?” the other demanded.
“Guess
you
better answer that, LeCompt.”
LeCompt shrugged. “You better go wake Holmes up and discuss it with him, Simmons.”
“Wake up
that
man?” Simmons snorted. “Not much! Open the door, Shorty.”
The other slid the bolt, and LeCompt ordered, “This way, and be quick about it!”
In the thick darkness only a few stars shone in the sky. Both Hale and Lee felt weird, for they had not been outside for over six months. “Sure feels good, don’t it, Perry?” Ezra whispered.
“Sure does!”
“We go this way—he’s supposed to meet us,” LeCompt informed them.
The iron-bound wheels of the wagon sounded like thunder to them as it rumbled over the cobblestones. Expecting to be stopped at any minute, their eyes swept the area.
“There’s a buggy of some kind over there,” LeCompt whispered.
They moved closer and a low voice called out, “LeCompt?”
“Here! Be quick!”
“You made it!” Thad was ecstatic as he leaped to the ground from the wagon seat.
“Hurry. Put the coffin on the wagon,” LeCompt ordered.
“No, take Davis out, and put him on the bed,” Thad said. “He can’t stay in that coffin.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out the pouch, then handed the bills to LeCompt. “Here’s the rest of the money.”
As LeCompt took the bills, Hale asked, “How’re you going to account for two missing prisoners, LeCompt?”
LeCompt’s face broke into a smile. “I’ll be far from here by the time the news gets out. I’m leaving
now.
” With that he turned and limped down the dark street.
“We’d better get moving ourselves,” Thad urged.
Hale had thought to bring the hammer, and he quickly
removed the lid. They all looked at Davis, and Thad exclaimed, “He looks dead!”
“Just drugged,” Hale said. “He’ll come out of it.”
They lifted Davis into the back of the wagon, wrapped him in wool blankets; then all three hopped into the front.
“Be light pretty soon,” Thad said as the wagon moved down the street. “You fellows’ll have to hide out. I got a couple of rooms in a run-down boardinghouse. We’ll go there first and get you fixed up.”
By the time he pulled up in front of a dilapidated two-story house, he’d gotten the full story of the escape. “God was with us,” Hale said as he ended the tale.
“I reckon you got that right,” Ezra added.
“I’ll go ahead and make sure nobody is up,” Thad said. He leaped out of the wagon and was back in a few minutes. “Let’s go.” They carried Davis inside to a small room lit by a single lantern, and shut the door.
Thad bent his head close to Davis’s face and listened for a moment. With a smile he raised his eyes. “He’s breathing.” Then he walked over to some packages that lay on the floor and said, “You two are leaving town in a couple hours. I’ve got you some clothes—had to guess at the sizes.” Thad had bought two dark suits, complete with white shirts and ties.
“Hate to put on clean clothes without washing that prison filth off,” Hale complained.
“You’ll have to do with hands and face for now,” Thad grinned. “And you’ll have to shave that brush off your faces.”
While they cleaned up, Thad took Owen Morgan’s uniform and managed to squeeze into it. It was not a good fit, for Morgan had been a smaller man, but it would have to do.
Soon both men had shaved and stood clothed in their new outfits. “I swear, Captain Hale,” Lee exclaimed in delight, “you look like a preacher!”
“And you look like a Philadelphia lawyer,” Hale grinned.
“There’re a couple of suitcases with some other stuff in them,” Thad said. “And a couple of heavy overcoats and
hats.” He took out a sheaf of bills, divided them, and handed half to each man. “This ought to get you out of our territory.”
Hale stared at the money, then looked at Thad with a strange expression. “You’re doing a lot for a couple of your enemies, Novak.”
Thad shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t think of it like that, Hale. Way I see it, the enemy is death—and we’re working together to keep Davis Winslow out of his way.”
“What about Davis?” Ezra asked.
“By the time you’re on the train, he’ll be cleaned up and in the hands of the best doctors in Richmond.”
They waited until six before leaving the hotel. Dawn was just breaking as they put Davis into the wagon and drove off. As they moved toward the river, Thad said, “This train takes mostly supplies toward the south. I put some Confederate money in with the other so you won’t make anybody suspicious. Don’t know where you’ll wind up, but anywhere is better than Richmond.”
They got to the station and waited until the train’s whistle blew a warning blast. “So long,” Thad said, shaking hands with them. “Be careful—I’ve got too much invested in you two to lose you now!”
“It’s going to be hard for me to fight from now on, Thad,” Hale said, uncomfortable at the thought. “I wouldn’t like to think I was shooting at
you.
”
“The same here,” Ezra added. “I didn’t know there were any Rebels like you around.” The whistle blew another warning, and Lee said, “About Davis. I’d like to know if he makes it. Send me a letter, will you? Address it to Sickle’s Corps. I’ll get it.”
The men had to run to make it, but with one short sprint they hit the steps and clung to the door, waving at Thad until the train moved out of sight.
Thad flicked the reins, and the horse moved down the street. It was not far to Chimborazo, and by the time Novak pulled up in front of the hospital, the sun was up.
He tied the horse, walked up the front steps, and asked the first orderly he met, “Where can I find Mrs. Wickham?”
He took the instructions, wound his way around the maze of buildings, and came to one marked Number 3. As he stepped inside, the first person he met was Belle Wickham. She was carrying a pitcher in one hand and had towels draped over her other arm.
“Why—Thad!” she exclaimed; then her face sobered. “Is something wrong? Someone sick at home?”
“No, Miss Belle. Far as I know they’re all right. Can I talk to you?”
“Of course. Come this way.” She led him to her office, put the things down, and asked, “What’s the matter?”
“Well, I just came in from duty. Got a scratch on my side—” He saw her look of alarm and said hastily, “Oh, it’s nothing, really. But I brought back an officer, and he’s in terrible shape. Going to die if something don’t happen.”
“You want us to take care of him?” Belle asked.
“Well, yes, but I know about all this red tape,” Thad went on. “By the time we get all the papers and stuff, he’ll be dead. And besides, they might stick him in someplace with some sorry help. If I could ask a favor, Miss Belle, I’d like for you to see to him personal.”
Belle gave him a direct look. “It would be against regulations, Thad.”
“Yes, ma’am, I know.” Thad had no arguments, and stood there with his hat twisted in his big hands. Finally he said, “This fellow is special to me.”
Belle dropped her head, unable to face the plea in Thad’s dark eyes. She knew he was right about all the red tape, and suddenly the maverick streak in her broke through. “One of my boys died last night. I’ve got a bed available. Where is your friend?”
“Outside in my wagon.”
“Bring him in while I get the bed ready.”
She left, wondering how she would justify this action to
the officials, but didn’t worry much. They would never fire her, she knew. By the time she got the bed changed, Thad was coming in with the limp body of the officer in his arms.
She motioned toward the bed, and Thad laid him down. As Belle moved forward, Thad stepped back to watch her reaction. He knew she had met Davis Winslow. He remembered the time Captain Winslow had brought him to Richmond, and Belle had entertained him at a dance.
He had known all this, had weighed it in the balances, and finally decided that it was a gamble he had to take. But now as she bent over Davis, he wondered if he’d been a fool.
Even if he is a lot skinnier—and has a beard, Belle’s not a fool! She’ll recognize him for sure.
But when she turned back after looking at the sick man, her eyes held only concern. “He’s in bad shape, Thad. I’m not sure you got here in time.”
“I been worried, Miss Belle,” Thad told her, and a great surge of relief welled up in him. “His leg is real bad.”
“Help me undress him,” she urged, and the two soon had the unconscious man in a clean hospital gown. Thad felt strange about pulling a man’s clothing off in front of a woman, but Belle was long past such modesty. She looked down at the soldier and shook her head. “I want Dr. Stevens to look at that leg right away. You stay with him, Thad.”
Fortunately she wasn’t there when Davis began tossing on the bed. Thad saw the man’s eyes open, so he leaned over him. “Are you all right, Davis?”
“I—guess so.” His voice rasped and he looked around. “Where am I?”
“In a Confederate soldiers’ hospital, Davis.”
“Am I—under arrest?”
“No! No!” Thad replied, bending over and whispering, “Davis, this is Chimborazo Hospital. I had to bring you here—but the only way I could get you in was to tell them that you’re a Confederate officer.”
Davis tried to comprehend as the young man related their
successful escape. Focusing his eyes on Thad, he shook his head. “It’ll never work. They’ll find out.”
“Maybe so, but it’s a chance we have to take, Davis—the only one you’ve got. Now you listen to me. I can’t stay with you. I’ve got to go back on duty, but if you keep your mouth shut, they won’t find out. I got papers for you. Just remember you are Lieutenant Owen Morgan. Got that? Owen Morgan.”
“Owen Morgan,” Davis whispered. He closed his eyes, then opened them again. “Thad—did Perry and Ezra get away?”
“Sure did! On their way right now!”
A smile split Davis’s shrunken lips, and he lifted a hand, which Thad squeezed. “Thad—thanks for—everything. Grandfather will be glad.”
Thad lifted his head and saw Belle coming though the door, and he cautioned, “Don’t forget—keep your mouth shut, Davis. Here comes the matron. Can you do it?”
“Yes.”
Thad didn’t know all the details of Belle’s experience as a spy in Washington, but he knew a little. His biggest fear was that Belle would recognize Davis; another, that Davis would be so filled with hate toward her for deceiving his family that he would give himself away. Thad stood ready to silence him if he should make a mistake.
“Miss Belle, he woke up,” Thad said. “I’d like you to meet Lieutenant Owen Morgan. This is Mrs. Belle Wickham, Owen.”
Belle looked down into Davis’s ravaged face. “I’m glad to meet you, Lieutenant.”