Daniel's Desire (12 page)

“I’m staying with Dr. Kennedy and his wife. It’s just a few blocks.”

“No matter, ma’am. I’ll walk along with you. Make sure you get where you’re headed with no problems.”

They continued on, the early spring night air pleasant against her face. “Sheriff, can you do anything to help Lieutenant McCoy? Anything at all?”

“Ma’am, I’m real sorry about your trouble, but seeing as how he’s a military man, and the charges against him are from the Union Army, there’s not a heck of a lot I can do.”

She sighed and kicked at a pebble. “Is there anything you suggest I do?”

“Maybe if you went to Camp Morton and talked to the commander?”

“No.” She turned to him. “He’s been called to Washington. Right now Captain Nelson is in charge.”

Jake shook his head. “I don’t know what else to say. You need someone higher up than Nelson.” He took his hat off, ran his fingers through his hair, and tugged it back on. “Captain Nelson sure seems to have it in for McCoy. Almost like it’s personal.”

“It is.” She winced as she told him the story of the last few weeks, and the stolen horse. The sheriff let out with a low whistle. “That must’ve made Captain Nelson mad.”

“Oh, yes.”

They arrived at the doctor’s house, and the sheriff regarded her. “I sure wish I could help you. The little bit of contact I’ve had with the lieutenant convinces me he’s a good man. But there isn’t anything I can do.”

“I understand. Thank you for seeing me home.”

“My pleasure, ma’am.” He touched the brim of his hat and turned to head back to town, crossing over the street in the direction of the saloon, where the noise had grown.

Rosemarie climbed the few stairs, and was greeted by Mrs. Kennedy, who had opened the door as if she’d watched for her.

“How is Lieutenant McCoy?”

“Reconciled to his fate.”

The doctor’s wife patted Rosemarie’s arm. “Come into the parlor with the doctor and me. Maybe we can think of something.”

The last thing Rosemarie wanted was to sit in the parlor and watch the doctor and his wife eye her with pity.

“I’ll take a look at my children first.”

“Fine, dear. You do that, and then join us.”

Jace’s fever had risen a bit, but Chandler and Amelia slept on peacefully. After requesting a pan of cool water, Rosemarie bathed Jace until the little boy settled down again. Mrs. Kennedy had made a paste that she’d put on the children’s pox marks, which seemed to sooth them. After applying the mixture once again to Jace, she kissed all three children on the forehead and returned to the parlor.

Dr. Kennedy folded his newspaper and laid it aside. “Mrs. Kennedy tells me your young man is not feeling hopeful.”

Rosemarie shook her head and settled on the settee alongside the doctor. “Afraid not. And I’m terrified the morning will come before I think of something to help.”

Her gaze shifted to the newspaper resting on the cushion. She scanned the headline. Governor Morton had issued a statement praising the Union Army and hoping for a quick rejoining of the Confederate states. She picked up the paper and began to read. The governor had given a speech in front of the Capitol building in Indianapolis. She smiled. He loved giving speeches.

We are happy to see the conflict come to an end. With my fellow Americans, I mourn the loss of so many brave men who gave their lives to keep the country intact. I also mourn the deaths of the brave men who fought with the Confederacy, believing their cause to be noble and right …

She skimmed the article, reading further down where the reporter added his own comments.

Although the Governor backed President Lincoln’s war measures, he had always denounced excessive military arrests, resisted the draft, and freeing Southern slaves until the president issued his emancipation proclamation on January 1, 1863 …

Rosemarie’s heart banged against her chest and her mouth dried up. Governor Oliver Morton, the man she worked for years ago. The man who attempted to talk her father out of marrying her off at such a young age. Who’d taught her to read and write. He had been her champion then and could be now.

She burst from the settee as if shot from a cannon. Mrs. Kennedy’s head snapped up and she grabbed her throat. “What is it, dear?”

“Governor Morton!”

“What about the governor?” Dr. Kennedy regarded her with wide eyes.

“He … he … ” She swallowed several times. “He can help me.”

The doctor rose and gently pushed Rosemarie back onto the settee. “You’ve become quite pale, Mrs. Wilson, you need to calm down.” He eased her head between her knees and patted her back. “Take a deep breath, and then tell us what you’re speaking of.”

“I’m fine.” She batted his hand away and stood again. “I worked for the governor when I was a young girl. He was always fond of me, treated me like a daughter in some ways. When my father arrived to tell me about my arranged marriage, Governor Morton gave him a tongue lashing.”

She bent and picked up the newspaper. “It says here that Governor Morton has always been against excessive military arrests.”

Rosemarie turned to them, both members of her audience staring at her with slack jaws. “Don’t you see? He might be able to stop Daniel from hanging.”

“But, the hanging is tomorrow, and the governor is in Indianapolis, a three hour ride from here,” the doctor protested.

“I don’t care. I have to try. This is my only chance, don’t you see?” She used her index finger to wipe tears from her eyes.

Mrs. Kennedy stood and embraced her. “Of course we understand, dear. Were I in your place, I’d do the same for Dr. Kennedy.”

“Thank you,” Rosemarie whispered.

“Well, if you’re making that trip in time to help Lt. McCoy, you need to get ready to go.” Dr. Kennedy stood and patted her on the shoulder. “You may use our horse, Mellow. That would be faster than a buggy.”

“Yes, faster.” Her words came out breathless.

“I’ll fix you a small meal to take with you.” Mrs. Kennedy quickly left the room.

Dr. Kennedy frowned. “I don’t like the idea of you riding alone that distance.”

“I’ll be fine. It’s a straight road, and hardly anyone travels it at night.”

“That’s precisely my problem with it.” He gave her a curt nod. “I’ll lend you my pistol to take with you.” He also hurried from the room, leaving Rosemarie pacing and wringing her hands.

This has to work.

She checked the cherry wood grandfather clock, taking up the entire corner of the Kennedy’s parlor. Fifteen minutes past eleven. If all went as she planned, she’d arrive at the governor’s mansion in the middle of the night. Should she wait? Leave closer to dawn? If only she knew what time Captain Nelson planned on departing in the morning.

No, she couldn’t take the chance. Even if she had to wake the governor from his bed.

Mrs. Kennedy bustled into the room. “Here, take this food with you, and my shawl, it will keep you warm.”

Footsteps coming down the stairs caused both women to turn as Dr. Kennedy entered, waving a pistol.

“Doctor, for heaven’s sake, what are you doing?” Mrs. Kennedy screeched.

“This is for Mrs. Wilson to take with her.”

“Oh, my goodness. You scared me half to death!”

• • •

The road from Bartlett’s Creek to Indianapolis was, as expected, completely deserted. Rosemarie shifted in the saddle and drew the shawl Mrs. Kennedy had given her around her head and shoulders. The night air was chilly. She should have worn a coat.

Moonlight cast long shadows over snug little farmhouses and sizeable barns as she continued on her journey. The odor of fresh dirt from furrows of freshly plowed fields rose to her nostrils, comforting her. Silence surrounded her, broken only by the heavy breathing from her and Mellow as she maintained a brisk pace.

Her thoughts drifted to Daniel. For the first time since she’d met Captain Nelson and his men on the road in town, hope filled her heart. Hope that she would have the man who had captured her heart and her children’s devotion. Memories of their time together, before he left, raised her temperature. She’d never imagined the joining of a man and a woman could be so wonderful. The only recompense she’d ever gotten from her intimacy with Hans were her three beautiful children.

Now that the initial excitement had left, fatigue engulfed her. Her bottom hurt from the constant jarring of the horse. She shifted in the saddle, but no matter how she moved, after about ten or fifteen minutes, she was sore again. Maybe if she nibbled on the food Mrs. Kennedy had packed for her, it would help to keep her awake.

Munching on a juicy red apple, Rosemarie bent low over the horse and galloped on toward Indianapolis, praying the horse wouldn’t lose his footing in the dark.

• • •

Rosemarie banged on the governor’s door for the third time. The inky black sky, with thousands of stars lighting it, confirmed it was still a few hours before dawn. She held her breath and rested her ear against the large wooden door. Yes. That was the sound of footsteps approaching. Someone fiddled with the lock and then the door opened. “Yes, miss?”

The servant had apparently been roused from his slumber. Rosemarie pushed the guilt aside. “Mrs. Rosemarie Wilson to see the governor.”

White hair stood in tufts from his head as the servant regarded her, his eyebrows rising. “Madam, it is barely a few minutes past three o’clock in the morning.”

She nodded. “Yes. I know. May I come in and wait for him, please?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it, repeating the action until he resembled a fish. “The governor won’t be receiving guests for several hours.”

Rosemarie ran her sweaty palms down the front of her dress. “Look, Mr … .” When he didn’t answer, she continued. “It is a matter of life and death that I speak with the governor as quickly as possible.”

When he moved to close the door, she slapped her hand against it. “Please. Please, sir, just let me wait inside until dawn. Then I really must insist you wake Governor Morton so I may speak with him.”

“Madam,” his voice rose, “kindly remove your hand from the door, or I shall summon the police.”

“What the devil’s going on down there, Billings? I’m surprised you haven’t woken the entire neighborhood.” Governor Morton hurried down the stairs, tying the belt of his silk dressing gown.

“I’m so sorry, governor, but this woman insists on entering and waiting to speak with you.”

“For heaven’s sake, madam,” the governor pulled the door open further. “You don’t knock on people’s doors … ” His eyes widened. “Is that you, Rosemarie?”

“Yes. It is me, and I need help. Right away.” With the door opened further, she edged her way into the entranceway.

“Of course, of course, come in. Please.”

The servant, suddenly seeming to notice his appearance, smoothed his hair and brushed the front of his red and white striped sleep shirt.

“Billings, show … ” he glanced in Rosemarie’s direction.

“Mrs. Wilson,” Rosemarie added.

“Mrs. Wilson to the parlor. I will join her shortly.”

The servant bowed. “Yes sir.” He turned to Rosemarie. “Right this way, madam.” He conducted her to the parlor with all the dignity of a man dressed in the finest livery to be had in Indianapolis. Rosemarie covered her mouth with her hand to control the giggles as she followed him, his pale, hairy legs leading the way.

A half hour later, Governor Morton entered the parlor, dressed as if it were two o’clock in the afternoon. He strode in his familiar manner, crossing the room in a few steps. “It’s so good to see you, Rosemarie.” He grinned as he took the seat across from her. “I just wish it were a bit later in the day.”

“I’m sorry to have arrived at such an hour, but I need a favor, and it was important I come right away.”

They both turned as Billings knocked lightly on the door and pushed in a cart filled with coffee, tea, biscuits, jam, and fruit.

“Ah, here we are.” The governor turned to Rosemarie. “I thought whatever you needed to discuss would go down much better with some food.”

Tears flooded her eyes at the familiarity of this home, this man. He’d been like a second father to her in the years she worked for him. A smidgen of guilt nudged at her with the realization that she’d not visited him since the day she left. Her eyes had filled with tears that day too, as he hugged her goodbye and she left with her meager belongings to a new life she’d had no say in.

Not that the years with Hans had been horrible. He’d never struck her, and provided well for her and their children. If there was no softness in the man, he at least didn’t make demands on her that she wasn’t comfortable with. She gave herself a mental shake. This reminiscing wasn’t solving her present problem.

The governor sipped from his coffee cup and leaned back, a look of pleasure on his face. “So what is this problem that brings you to my doorstep in the middle of the night?”

Rosemarie told her story, starting with Hans’ death, the months of fear and loneliness, and then Daniel’s arrival and all that evolved since then. When she finished, crumbs from the biscuit she’d worried into bits covered her lap.

Governor Morton was silent for a few moments after she finished, then he stood, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’ve been against the brutality of this war.” He turned to her. “On both sides.” He stared into the distance and continued. “This war will go down in the history books as the worst conflict this great country of ours ever had.” He began to pace, lost in his thoughts. “Every single soldier who bled to death on the field was an American. Every limb cut from a screaming soldier belonged to one of us. We killed our own brothers, uncles, sons, and fathers. Battlefields in both the north and south are saturated with the blood of our young men. How shall we survive as a nation with so many of our promising youths dead or wounded?”

Rosemarie licked her dry lips. Time was passing, and she needed his help. The sky had lightened since she’d begun her story.

“I’m sorry, my dear. I realize you’re probably anxious to save your young man, and here I am rambling on as if I stood before an audience at a rally.” He grinned and took his seat. “Tell me what you want me to do.”