Circle of Spies (55 page)

“Slade!” Marietta's cry held the whole world, it seemed. All the love, all the hope, all the fear and pain. More, she jerked out of view.

And oh, the shifting expressions on Hughes's shadowed face. The evil joy melting to shock and then hardening into hatred.

Slade pulled the trigger. The shot rang out, sounding, to his ears, like a second chance. A second chance for her to live, free of those chains. A second chance for the nation to rebuild itself, without the looming threat of another break. When he pulled back, he saw the bullet had found its mark. Hughes lay, unmoving, on the ground.

Slade slid down the post, the gun clattering to the stairs as its kick set up a new throb. So loud. It drowned out the cries, the footsteps, and made them nothing but echoes.

Except for hers. Her voice he heard clearly, saying his name over and over, ever louder. Then her face appeared, streaked with mud and tears, her hair flowing like a flame around her shoulders. “Slade. Slade, my love, hold on. Hold tight to me. Don't let go.”

Her fingers encircled his. Cold but solid. Unharmed.
Thank You, Jesus
. Had he the strength, he would have tangled his other hand in her hair.

All he managed was a swallow. His tongue felt swollen and heavy. “You gonna wanna look away, kitten. Bleeding.” He could feel it, feel the warmth spreading. Too fast, too hot.

“No.” Her gaze latched on his, she gripped his hand tighter. “No, I want to look right here. You keep looking back, Slade. Keep looking at me.”

He blinked, barely dragging his lids open again. The words echoed through his mind. Booth had succeeded. He had shot the president.

The circle of light dimmed. “Tried. Tried to stop it all.”

Her fingers soothed over his jaw, down his neck, and rested feather light on his chest. “We can never stop it all, my love. Not in this world. We can only do our part, answer our call, and pray the Lord will heal the wounds left behind.”

Her voice caught, but her eyes stayed clear. Clear and green and bright, like life itself. She was right. There was too much evil in the world for them to fight it off single-handedly. Battles would be lost, as battles always were.

But the war didn't have to be. Not when they found families to fight beside. He gathered all the strength he could find to strain up that inch, to catch her lips with his.

He wished, oh how he wished he could have saved them all.

And yet, he couldn't regret choosing his family. “I love you, kitten.” He sagged down. Though his eyelids felt like lead, he kept them open just one more second. To seize one last picture of her face to take with him into eternity. “Don't mourn for me. I've had enough of black and gray. You need to…bring…the color back.”

He focused on the green of her eyes until it all faded away.

Thirty-Five

Baltimore, Maryland

May 1, 1865

M
arietta Hughes smoothed a hand over the green skirt of her dress and felt a twist in her stomach that never seemed very far away these days. Everywhere she turned was some reminder of all that had passed, of all that had been lost. The black crepe of mourning still covered all the windows, all the mirrors. Not just here in her parents' home, but throughout the city. Throughout the country.

“Hurry, Marietta, or we'll miss the train!”

“Coming, Mama.” But it took another second to convince her hand to release the fabric of her new traveling dress and clutch instead the worn maple of her childhood home's main staircase.

When she reached the entryway, the door stood open, spring's sweet breeze wafting in. The coaches waited, already loaded with trunks and valises. Hers, Mama's, Barbara's. Granddad Thad's and Grandmama Gwyn's. Daddy, his telegram had said, would meet them in New York.

A low whistle made her jump and then made her pulse gallop as a figure stepped into the doorway. A smile teased her lips as his gaze swept up and down her.

If only he didn't still have to lean against the doorframe for support.
The fool man—he should have given himself another week to rest, at least. One fortnight was not enough to recover from a gunshot wound to the chest, no matter how stubborn the man. No matter how big the miracle that he survived it at all. “Slade, you said you would wait in the coach.”

“And you said you would be right back down.” Shadows still ringed his eyes, and he had lost too much weight, but his smile had never been brighter. “I was beginning to think you ran away.”

She lifted her chin and sailed toward him with a regal sniff. “Why would I do that?”

He chuckled and held out a hand. “You tell me.” She slipped hers into it and eased up against him, not daring to put any weight against his chest.

Her fear nearly sent her running back up the steps. “What if your parents hate me?”

His hand on her waist held her steady. And his eyes sparkled with a decidedly wolfish mirth. “They might.”

“Slade!”

“Well, you're not what they would expect of the girl I finally bring home. You're a rich Southerner.” He kissed her, slow and promising. “But it won't take them long to see why I love you.”

“Humph.” They would see soon enough, she supposed. A few hours by rail, and they would be, oddly, back in the place the Culpers had begun—New York City. “Just promise me you will take it easy while we are there. You have been pushing yourself too hard.”

“There's been a lot to do.” His eyes flickered. His smile dimmed.

She kissed him again and then pulled him out the door. He had insisted on attending the funeral service one short week after the assassination. He had sat in a row with his friends, finally believed only when his warnings proved true.

An irony she suspected they all recognized. One that made all their feet shuffle extra slow as they said farewell to their commander in chief.

“Miss Mari, you forgot your shawl again.” Cora's voice preceded her down the stairs, tiny little Freeman strapped to her with a long piece of cloth.

Marietta paused with a smile. When her friend came near with the shawl extended, she took it with a nod of thanks and brushed her
fingertips over the infant's smooth head. “He's going to be so big when I get home. A whole month. It seems he's doubled in just these two weeks.”

Cora's grin was bright as the sun. “He sure will be. And with a little luck, the house will sell fast and we can cut our ties. We lookin' forward to Connecticut.”

She was praying for the same, but not quite so joyfully. There had been some sorrow in shutting up the Hugheses' home. So many memories lived there, not just of Lucien and Dev, but of these past months with Slade and Barbara, Cora and Walker. The months when the world had shifted.

But it was silly to keep the big old place open when they would be happier at her parents'. And Mother Hughes had refused to stay in Baltimore after they buried Dev beside Lucien and their father. Her place, she had said, was Louisiana.

Cora's smile faded too. “Walker still gets so quiet sometimes. Sayin' how if he just had two more minutes, if they hadn't sent him round back…” Her brows drew in, her hand stroked over her sleeping baby. “So much has changed. So much hasn't.”

“I know.” She sighed and, when Mama waved frantically from the coach, stepped away. “Keep reminding him of their victories of the night. On the other lives they saved.” Just as she must rest in the peace that Granddad had taken care of sealing the cave, had charged the family of innkeepers to watch over it. Marietta had been uncertain about trusting them so much, at first, when she realized they were Confederate, but they wanted peace as much as the Culpers. They would do anything they could to keep a new break at bay, and the only other man who knew the location of the cave and its guns and gold had been silenced before Dev came after her.

Perhaps the treasure would be found someday. But not in their generation.

“Yetta.” Slade made a show of pulling out his watch and staring pointedly at the face.

Which reminded her. Slipping a hand into her pocket, she shook her head as she took a step toward him. “A watch without a fob. What will your father say, Slade?”

He winced and closed the lid. “I meant to buy a new one before we left, but…”

“Well. Lucky for you, I happen to have one just lying around.” She pulled out the silver links, dangled them in front of his nose.

He looked from the fob, obviously worn, to her and lifted a brow.

She smiled. “It was Stephen's. He would have wanted you to have it. He would have been proud to call you a brother.”

“Yetta.” He took the chain and then leaned down for a kiss. He paused two inches away and chuckled when a chorus of impatience sounded from the two coaches. “Guess I'll save that part for later.”

Tucking her hand in the crook of his elbow, she led him down the walk. Soon enough he would be back to normal, back to work, wherever Pinkerton might send him. But not alone anymore.

He shot her a grin as they neared her family. “You know, my father's a minister. Our families will all be together…”

Her pulse thrummed. “And?”

That smirk she loved appeared as he leaned close. “And we could be married by this time tomorrow, once my parents stop hating you.”

A laugh tickling her throat, she gathered her skirt in preparation of the step into the carriage. “Tempting.”

“Yeah?” He sounded one part surprised and four parts hopeful.

Foregoing the social whirl of an engagement and forging ahead into a lifetime of new memories? She let the laugh bloom full. “Very tempting indeed.”

Discussion Questions

1. In the first chapter, Marietta learns devastating secrets about the Hugheses. Have you ever learned something about someone that completely redefined your relationship?

2. Would you ever join a secret society? Why or why not? What type might you consider being a part of?

3. Who is your favorite character and why?

4. Brotherhood is a central theme in the book, represented in many different ways. Have you experienced any of the varieties of sibling relationships—or spiritual brotherhood—that the characters have?

5. Marietta's amazing memory was inspired by true stories I heard of people reading with their eyes closed after glancing at a book's pages. What are some amazing stories of the human mind that you've heard?

6. Slade and Marietta both have what could be called checkered pasts. How do you think the Lord took their flaws and used them to His glory?

7. Several times through the book, Marietta reflects on the truth that forgiveness of sin does not negate the consequences of sin. Have you ever seen an example of this?

8. Walker and Cora and their family will face many changes in the next years, as the nation adjusts to new laws…and in some ways changes very little. What do you think their future will look like? What do you think will become of Elsie?

9. Slade learns by the end of the book that he cannot do anything alone. How have you found that family and friends affect your goals?

10. The secret workings of the Knights of the Golden Circle were really referenced in one of Lincoln's speeches as “the fifth column”—an actual, if invisible, part of the Confederate war machine. Why do you think they had the successes they did? Why do you think they experienced so many failures? How does this relate to the successes and failures of all the characters in
Circle of Spies
?

Author's Note

I
hope you enjoyed journeying with the Culpers into the Civil War! In the first two books in the series, espionage and intelligence gathering were considered dirty business best suited to lowlife rabble. By this time spies were everywhere, working on both sides. I had so much fun bringing agents from three different organizations into one clash, even if it made me a bit dizzy at times. ;-)

I loved weaving a few threads through the entire series—the pearl necklace, sign language, and the book of prayers. The prayers were taken from
Valley of Vision: A Collection of Puritan Prayers & Devotions
compiled by Arthur Bennet and used by permission.

I wanted to take a moment to discuss the Hughes's railroad ties. Though I based the facts of the railroad culture and locations upon the B&O line, I in no way wanted to indicate that the president of the Baltimore & Ohio was in any way connected to the KGC. He was, in fact, one of the most valuable assets of the Union. Which is, of course, what made me wonder, “But what if he hadn't been?” And so my fictitious Hughes family was born…and hence why the railroad is never specifically named.

The Pinkertons are another group I have always had fun imagining scenarios for. Despite some of the terrible incidents they were involved in surrounding union strikes, Allan Pinkerton created something new and pretty cool with his team of detectives. They were the Union's primary source of intelligence in the Civil War, and he is known for his
investigative techniques of “shadowing” and “assuming a role.” These were techniques my Culpers were already using, so I thought it right and proper to have them working together, however unbeknownst to my detective at the time.