Traces of Mercy (25 page)

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Authors: Jr. Michael Landon

Tags: #Romance, #Civil War, #Michael Landon Jr., #Amnesia, #Nuns, #Faith, #forgiveness

BOOK: Traces of Mercy
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“I’ll need two days, maybe three to get some money together and tie up some loose ends without arousing the suspicion of my parents,” he said. “Promise me you’ll stay until I come back for you. I can’t give up everything without your sworn word.”

“I promise. I will be here.” She leaned over and kissed him.

He cupped her cheek. “Not a word to anyone. As soon as my mother finds out the wedding is off, so will half of St. Louis.”

Not only did she know it, she was counting on it. “I won’t say a word—not even to the nuns.”

Rand reached for her, drawing her close by grabbing her shoulders. She winced in pain and bit her lip.

“You’re hurt?”

“It’s nothing. I was being careless riding Lucky the other day and hit a branch with my shoulder,” she said.

“Have you had a doctor look at it?”

“I’m fine,” she said firmly. “Now go, so I can look properly sad again when I have to face the nuns.”

“I’ll be back soon,” he said.

Mercy watched him ride away and took slow, even breaths. She couldn’t believe it. She would still have Rand—and his love, respect, and admiration. It was almost too good to be true.

 

Rand paced back and forth in front of his mother and father, who sat in matching chairs in the drawing room. While Charles read the note, Ilene perched on the edge of her seat, her lips locked in a grim expression and her hand outstretched for the paper.

Charles finally looked at his son. “I suppose you have gone to find her?”

Rand nodded. “She’s back at the convent with the nuns. She refuses to change her mind.”

Ilene snapped her fingers for the paper, and Charles handed it over. She read it quickly while Rand downed the rest of his drink. When she looked up, her eyes were flashing.

“The whole world has gone mad!” Ilene said. “First the war, then the president shot while he’s at the theater! The attempt on John Henderson’s life by some crazed lunatic, and now this!”

“I hardly think the attempted murder of John and calling off a wedding carry the same weight,” Charles said caustically.

“You aren’t the one who has broken your back over wedding details and plans for the last five months!” Ilene rose out of her chair. “She is refusing the Prescott name, turning her back on all the extensive and expensive wedding preparations I’ve made for her. She’s right, of course. She isn’t suitable for you—she never was.” Ilene pointed a finger at Rand. “I begged you not to get involved with her. I told you how foolish you were being, but in the end you had to have your way!”

“This is hardly the time to place blame, Ilene,” Charles said evenly. “We were all enamored with the girl.”

“I most certainly was not!” Ilene argued. “I have been onto her since the first time I laid eyes on her. She is nothing but a gold digger …”

“If that were true, Mother, she would still be marrying me,” Rand said firmly.

“There is one piece of good news here,” Charles said.

“I can’t imagine what,” Ilene said.

“Better this all happened now than after she was legally a Prescott,” Charles said.

“That’s your attempt at good news?” Ilene snapped. “This will cause scandalous humiliation for me.”

Rand said nothing. His father stood and put a hand on his shoulder. “I know it’s a blow, Son, but you’ll get over her.”

“I’m not sure about that, Father,” Rand said.

“I’m sure,” Ilene said. “There are plenty of pedigreed women in St. Louis who have had their eye on you for years, Rand. Someone infinitely more suitable for you than Mercy was—someone bred to be a lady, who didn’t have to be coached through the most mundane social event. Honestly, sometimes I thought that girl was born in the backwoods of Mississippi.”

Rand boiled inside as he listened to his mother’s disparaging remarks about the women he loved. “I didn’t know you disliked her so, Mother,” he said. “I thought you had warmed to the idea of our marriage.”

Ilene waved a hand dismissively. “An act for your sake, my dear. We all do it for the ones we love, now don’t we?”

Rand thought about Mercy’s reservations regarding his family, his position—the problems he thought she’d imagined. But it was all true. He saw that now. He had been right to suggest they run away.

“Yes, Mother, we all do it for the ones we love,” he said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to be alone.”

“Chin up, Son,” Charles said. “Tomorrow is a new day.”

Rand nodded. He smiled as he left the room. Tomorrow was a new day indeed.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-
E
IGHT

It could have been so much worse. Although the entire wooden shed on the Hendersons’ property was a total loss, the house had suffered little damage. Elijah could see black bite marks from the fire that had licked up the edge of the structure, but with the servants’ help, he and John had managed to douse the flames before the whole house became a smoldering pile of ash.

The person responsible for this should be hunted down and locked up
, Elijah thought. Just as he had told Mercy, the war might be over, but bad feelings remained. As the sun rose the morning after the fire, Elijah had been the first to see the paper fluttering from the hand of the lawn jockey. An old newspaper article about John Henderson and his efforts on behalf of the Union was pasted on a piece of parchment, along with words made up of newsprint that read:
Your debt must be paid, Henderson!

Mary reacted as any wife would. She cried with relief that they were all still alive and hadn’t been killed in the fire; she was angry that someone had actually attacked her home; she was frightened that the madman who had tried once might come back and try again to hurt her husband.

John did all he could to reassure his wife that everything would be fine. He telegraphed his good friend Allan Pinkerton in Chicago and asked him for advice on some added security for his home until the person or persons responsible for the attack were caught. Pinkerton, who owned the Pinkerton Detective Agency, responded swiftly. Less than a day later, Elijah stood and listened to one of the four agents at the Henderson place give John a briefing of their security plan.

“Vigilance at all times, Congressman,” Tom McElroy said. “Two of us will be on the property twenty-four hours a day. We’ll take turns operating in twelve-hour shifts. Mrs. Henderson gave me a list of your social engagements for the next two weeks. One of us will be at your side wherever you go.”

“Your men are armed?” Elijah asked.

McElroy opened his jacket to reveal a revolver. “At all times.”

A man on horseback came galloping down the Hendersons’ road. McElroy looked at John. “Are you expecting someone?”

“No.”

One of the Pinkertons stepped in front of the horseman and held up a hand. The man reined in the horse and stopped.

“I have a message for Congressman and Mrs. Henderson,” he said, reaching into his vest pocket.

“Dismount,” McElroy said.

“I just have a—”

McElroy drew his gun. “
Please
dismount.”

Once the messenger was on the ground, one of the Pinkertons searched him. The man put his arms straight out away from his sides.

“I’m telling you, I’m just trying to deliver a message from Mr. and Mrs. Prescott,” he said.

McElroy looked at John. “You know a Prescott?”

John nodded. “Yes. Let’s have the message.”

McElroy nodded to the messenger, who pulled the note from his pocket and handed it to John. John read it quickly and then looked at the messenger.

“No need for a reply,” he said. “You may go.”

As the messenger went on his way, McElroy raised a brow at John. “Anything I should be aware of, Congressman?”

John handed the note to Elijah but looked at McElroy. “As a matter of fact, you can cross one of those social engagements off your list. The Prescott wedding next week has been canceled.”

Elijah read the note twice. It was impossible to know what had transpired between Rand and Mercy—had she told him the truth and he called it off? Or did she just walk away because the truth was too much to admit? Either way—the wedding was off, and Elijah was spared the distasteful job of having a very difficult conversation with Rand Prescott.

“Wonder what happened there?” John mused aloud.

Elijah shrugged. “Who knows?”

“If Rand was the one who got cold feet, his mother will make him pay somehow, but if this was Mercy’s doing, then I shudder to think about how angry Ilene will be,” John said with a half smile.

“If you’ll excuse us, Congressman, Captain, we are going to make a trek around the perimeter,” McElroy said. “Get a feel for the property.”

“Fine,” John said.

As they walked away, Elijah handed the note back to John. “I think you’ve got some good men looking out for you.”

“Allan Pinkerton runs a fine organization. If he vouches for them, then I trust them with my life—and with Mary’s.”

“As long as things are under control here and I don’t have a wedding to attend next week, I’m thinking I’ll head to Kansas early,” Elijah said. “I know my orders don’t require me to be there for another two weeks, but I’d like to get settled in before I’m on duty and riding around the western half of the country.”

“Fort Wallace isn’t an easy post, Elijah,” John said. “I wish you would have let me pull a few strings to get you assigned here.”

“What would a cavalryman do in town, John?” Elijah smiled.

“I suppose that’s true.”

“Protecting the expansion of the railroad from the Indians is a mite better than fighting a war against my own countrymen,” Elijah said.

“True again,” John said. “If you ever head back this way, you know you’re welcome.”

Elijah looked pointedly at the armed men on the property and the black marks from the fire. He shook his head. “Now
that
would be too dangerous,” Elijah said.

John laughed, and even Elijah chuckled at his own joke.

“What will be even
more
dangerous is telling my wife that the Prescott wedding has been canceled. Mary loves weddings,” John said.

“She
has
been looking forward to it,” Elijah said.

“Maybe you’d like to break it to her?” John asked hopefully.

But Elijah shook his head. “I’d rather take my chances with the Indians.”

John laughed. “Me, too.”

 

Deirdre couldn’t figure it out. Mercy seemed … different. Deirdre had seen her when she first arrived back at the convent—brokenhearted and hopeless about her future. Her eyes had that haunted, lost-love look, and her complexion had been sallow. Those things Deirdre could understand. She would have expected Mercy to look awful, considering the girl had just canceled her wedding to the most eligible man in St. Louis. But the things that were puzzling Deirdre now were the little things. Several times she had caught Mercy with a hint of a smile on her face and had heard her humming while she did the dishes. Not normal behavior for a woman with a broken heart. Deirdre tried to pin her down as they did the breakfast dishes that morning.

“How are you faring, Mercy?” Deirdre asked.

“I’m … sad,” Mercy said.

“Yes, of course, ’tis normal to be sad,” Deirdre agreed. “I would be happy to listen if you’d care to talk. It might help a wee bit.”

But Mercy shook her head. “I don’t think anything will help.”

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

Mercy hesitated. “I suppose so.”

“What was it that made you realize Rand wasn’t the right man for you? He seems pretty perfect to me.”

“I really don’t want to talk about it, Deirdre,” Mercy said. “I’m trying to forget I ever knew Rand Prescott.”

“Of course,” Deirdre said, rubbing a speck from a plate with the dish towel. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

And you’re lying to me
, she thought.

“I’ll be glad when our turn for kitchen chores is over next week,” Deirdre said. “All those children make for a lot of dirty dishes.”

“I like the children being here,” Mercy said. “It makes the place a little livelier.”

“Noisy, dirty, and chaotic is more like it,” Deirdre complained. “Next week we have to turn out the beds and do all the linens. It will take all day.”

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