Linda Castle (24 page)

“What’s happened?” Chase imagined a hundred possible calamities. He envisioned Mayor Kerney and his nefarious associates, then he wondered if Ira Goten’s recent knife wound had been discovered, or perhaps Stewart had been caught before he delivered his news. Problems swirled through his head.

Hezikiah swallowed hard and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “Southern troops are pouring into Ferrin County. I just got word from the telegraph office. Mainfield is bound to be overrun with Southern troops leaving Louisiana.”

A few days later, Chase and Hezikiah sat in the makeshift
Gazette
office talking.

“It’s ironic, isn’t it, Chase?” Hezikiah rubbed his hand over the silent, cold printing press. Mainfield had been occupied by Southern troops since the girls were born, but so far the occupation had been peaceful. “After all you did to keep the news going…”

Chase looked at the silent press and shrugged. “There doesn’t seem to be much point now anyway. It’s only a matter of time until the South falls. They are short on everything, and are fighting on pride and determination alone.” He raked his fingers through his hair and sighed heavily. “I just want it to end. I’m tired of war, Hezikiah. I want to live quietly and watch my daughters grow. I no longer have any desire to be a hero and I have little faith left in causes, no matter how worthy.”

Hezikiah smiled and nodded. “Can’t say I blame you. Those girls are cute as buttons. Have you named them yet?”

Chase grinned with pride. “Yes. Linese picked the names, Sarah and Marjorie.” A rush of affection rolled through him at the thought of his wife and babies. He itched to go home and be with them, and now that the
Gazette
was no
longerbeing printed, there was nothing to keep him from Cordellane.

The dark shadow of worry about the secrets of his past still hung over him, but day by day he managed to push it further to the back of his mind, while he saw health returning to Linese and his baby girls growing fat. Nothing horrible had happened and Chase had finally begun to believe there was a future for them all now that he had his daughters safe and sound.

A knock on the door brought the men’s heads up. The potbellied stove hissed and popped when Hezikiah opened the door. Chase looked up to see two Confederate soldiers standing in the doorway.

“Yes?” Hezikiah asked.

“Is Major Chase Cordell here?” One of the men asked Hezikiah.

“I’m Chase Cordell.” Chase stood up and stepped forward. “What do you want?”

“I’ve come to place you under arrest.”

“Arrest? For what?” Chase snorted.

“For the murder of Alfred Homstock.”

Chase’s belly clinched tight. The man’s name seemed vaguely familiar, but he could not put a face to it. He looked beyond the guards to see if Rancy Thompson was with him, and saw nobody but the two soldiers. “By whose authority am I being arrested?”

“I am not at liberty to say anything more about it, sir. You’ll have to speak to my commanding officer.” The hand around Enfield rifle twitched nervously. “If you will come with us—now.”

Chase understood the implied threat. If he was so foolish to attempt to resist the soldiers it could be fatal. “Hezikiah, get word to Cordellane. Talk to my grandfather before you let Linese know what has happened.” Chase felt the bite of iron against his wrists when they clamped the manacles shut.

One soldier jerked the chain and nudged Chase in the back with the barrel of his rifle.

“Remember, Hezikiah, speak to my grandfather.”

Mainfield was blanketed in an eerie unnatural silence. The daily cacophony of horses’ hooves and jingling harnesses was mysteriously gone. Even the spring air of 1865 felt charged with some portent of pending doom. Chase told himself he was being silly, that this March day was no different than any other, except for the fact he was locked in jail.

He rose from the narrow cot and tried to shake off his gloomy thoughts. It was probably all some silly mistake. In fact, Kerney was probably behind the whole stupid plan—one last act of malicious revenge. Whether he liked it or not, whether it was good for business or not, Chase knew the war was going to have to end soon. There simply wasn’t enough blood left to keep it going, regardless of what that would do to the profit margin of Mainfield.

Chase relaxed a bit. He didn’t even know anyone named Homstock, at least not that he recalled. He tilted his head in a vain attempt to make the ringing go away while he listened to footsteps in the outer office then the heavy thud of a door being shut. Rancy Thompson’s voice floated to him on the weird hush that had claimed Mainfield. Chase strained to hear what was being said. The words were spoken in a heavily spiced Southern drawl and the voice was not known to him. Rancy was discussing, no, he was arguing with somebody.

“I am still sheriff.” Rancy’s voice grew louder. “Is this a military matter, or a civil one, Colonel?”

Chase found himself holding his breath to hear every word.

“I suppose it’s a bit of both. The man killed was not a soldier, but he was on business for the Confederacy when he was murdered,” the Southern voice explained.

“The least you can do is let Major Cordell have visitors,” Rancy said, “no matter how damning the evidence against him is.”

“At this time, I can find no incentive to do so, sir. As far as I am concerned, Major Chase Cordell will stay right where he is, without visitors, until a jury is selected and we hold his trial. It is my hope we can proceed with a speedy execution shortly afterward.”

Trial. Execution.
The words echoed through Chase’s head. He sagged down on the hard, narrow cot. Was he in jail because of something Kerney had finally hatched, or had he committed a crime that he still did not remember? He didn’t know, and not knowing made his frustration all the greater.

He rubbed his throbbing temples with his fingertips. What was going to become of Linese and his daughters? How would she get along with two newborn babies? He longed to see her, just to look into her clear blue eyes and tell her how much he loved her.

“Selfish bastard,”
he hissed aloud. How could he put Linese through the experience of coming to the harsh jail to see him?

Later that afternoon Chase heard his grandfather’s distinctive baritone drift through the outer office. He held his breath, straining to listen, but all he heard was the sound of retreating footsteps and he knew his grandfather had been turned away. He flopped down on his cot and tried to sleep, anything to numb the terrible ache in his head, anything to shut out the horrible quiet that blanketed Mainfield. When he closed his eyes, Linese’s face floated before him and he managed to find peace in slumber.

Chase woke with his heart beating like a piston inside his chest. He must have slept for hours, he realized, when he saw the slender shadows of dusk slanting through the narrow slit that served as a ventilation shaft outside of his cell.

He remained still and listened to the baritone rumble of voices from outside, knowing those voices had woken him.

“I don’t care if the Confederacy has declared martial law in Mainfield. This is unconscionable.” Hezikiah Hersh-ner’s words rang with journalistic indignation. “There’s a constitution in this country, or have you secessionists written your own?”

“Be careful, Hezikiah,” Rancy’s deep voice warned.

“Good advice, sir,” a voice agreed. “Be careful what treasonist remarks you make or you might find yourself joining Major Cordell. We could’ve done something a trifle more harsh with you for having been involved with Major Cordell.” It was the same drawling voice Chase had heard earlier.

Chase sat up and dragged his hand over his face. He did not want Hezikiah to come to any harm because of him. Linese would need him to help her—just in case. He swallowed hard and cursed himself.

Was he going to accept this so easily? Was he simply going to resign himself to someone slipping a rope over his neck without fighting for his life? There had to be something he could do.

Several hours later, a voice snapped Chase from his trance of concentration.

“And just who are you, ma’am?” Chase recognized the voice of the burly Confederate officer who had chained him to the floor upon his arrival.

“I am Mrs. Chase Cordell. I’ve come to see my husband.” Linese’s voice was steady and calm.

A million emotions ripped through his mind. Had something happened to his daughters? His grandfather? Fear nipped at his heart while his pulse quickened with the desire to see his lovely wife’s face. Chase was brought up short by a rude bark of laughter.

“Sorry, ma’am, I don’t think we’ll be letting anybody in to see the prisoner. Now get yourself on home before you get hurt.”

Chase could not discern whether the words were a warning made from true concern, or a threat, but he felt fury sweep through him with the intensity of a wildfire.

“But I must speak to him, see him. It is a family matter of great importance.”

Chase heard the desperation in her sweet voice and died a little inside. Dear God, something
had
happened. He sagged onto his cot in abject misery.

It was useless for Linese to try to bargain with the man. They would not let her in, any more than they let in his grandfather or Hezikiah. Worry about Linese and how she would endure such grief snaked through his heart.

The vow he had made to keep her and the twins safe came back to haunt him. He hadn’t protected them any more than he could protect Linese from the stark hazard of the future as a widow.

“Perhaps this will change your mind about letting me see him,” Linese said softly.

“Well, now, why didn’t you get right to the point before, ma’am? I think I can look the other way for a few minutes.”

Chase moved to the door and clenched the cold iron bars with his fists. What on earth had she given him to change his mind?

He didn’t care. Whatever it was, it was worth it to be able to look at her, to give her comfort, to say he loved her.

The soft, even tread of her feet made him tingle with anticipation. His heart leapt into his throat. The heavy oak door swung open and there she was in the dim hallway.

“Linese.”

She was thin and pale. There were circles under her eyes. His heart broke for her. “You shouldn’t have come, you’re still too weak,” he said, but his heart knew he had never been happier to see anyone in his life.

“I had to see you, Chase.” She waited until the Confederate officer shut the door behind her. When she heard the creak of the chair in the outer office, when she was sure he
had resettled his weight and would not be returning, she turned back to Chase.

“Has something happened?”

She smiled and her face brightened a bit. “No, oh, I never meant for you to think so. We’re all fine, just fine, and safe at Cordellane. The Captain and a friend are with the twins.” She did not tell Chase the friend was Melissa.

“It isn’t safe for you to be out with infantrymen and cavalry roaming the streets.” His instinct to protect her suddenly shut out his need to be with her.

“I had to come. I have some information, and it may help.”

“What?” A stubborn flame of hope flared inside his chest. He reached out and stroke the side of Linese’s face with his fingertips. He longed to hold her.

“The man, Alfred Homstock, was a spy for the South. He was about to expose the route of the Underground Railroad. He had been sent to kill people helping along this part of the route, when he was murdered. I guess it doesn’t matter now, with Mainfield occupied, but there is a rumor circulating that the Railroad route cuts across Cordellane property.” She frowned and shook her head as if she could banish the story. “I don’t see how that can be true. Surely we would’ve known about it.”

“How did you learn this?” Chase caressed her delicate fingers through the narrow bars.

“Hezikiah. I didn’t ask how he found out. I didn’t care. As soon as he told me, I came here to you. He was leaving Mainfield, going to find the Northern troops that he said are getting closer every day.”

She looked at him with blue eyes that held a thousand lifetimes of fear and worry. It cut straight through his soul.

“Does it help? Do you remember anything?” she prodded.

Chase swallowed hard. “Not really.” He had struggled, tried harder than ever before, but the only memory he had
salvaged was a strange recollection that had no real substance. It wasn’t enough to allow Linese to pin her hopes on.

“Chase, you must try.” She felt a pang of regret and guilt. Linese cursed herself for ever hoping that Chase would not regain his memory. She hated herself for every selfish minute she had spent worrying about losing him to his past. If he remembered, at least he would be alive. That would be enough, no matter what else happened.

Chase yearned to wipe some of the despair from her eyes. He had to give her hope, no matter how flimsy. “I’m not sure, but I think whatever happened had something to do with Ira Goten.” Chase could not risk telling her the dead man might also have been involved with his grandfather’s mysterious activities, or the truth about the Captain’s madness. His grandfather was in more danger than ever, with the South occupying Mainfield. Chase could not utter a sound that could place the old man in peril.

“I’ll go for Ira at once.” Linese tried to remove her fingers from Chase’s loving grasp. “I’m sure he would help us.”

“No, honey, you can’t.” Chase lowered his voice to a whisper, to be sure the guard in the outer office could not overhear.

“But, Chase, why?” She blinked back tears.

He wanted to hold her in his arms and tell her it would be all right. “I believe he is involved with things that could put him in danger. With the war still going on, I can’t jeopardize Ira or anyone else on vague half-recollections.”

Linese went pale. “Oh, Chase. Tell me you’re not saying what I think you are.”

“Linese, I can’t put another man’s neck in a noose to save myself. I couldn’t live with that. And I’m not even sure—”

She stared at him in mute horror. He could see the struggle going on inside her. One tear threatened to slide over her bottom lid, but she blinked furiously and forced herself to breathe slowly in an obvious attempt to master her emotions.