Miss Katie's Rosewood (5 page)

“Oh . . . oh, nothing,” replied Robert. “I just thought . . . it's nothing.”

His brain was spinning. He had to act fast. The man was returning to his tent.

“Excuse me,” he said to the officer.

He walked quickly after the man who had arrested his attention, trying to calm down so his voice wouldn't tremble and give him away.

“Sergeant Teague,” he said from behind, hurrying to catch up.

The man paused and turned, obviously surprised when he saw who had spoken.

“That's right,” he said.

“I heard that you used to be stationed in Mississippi,” Robert said. “I've never been there. What's it like? Is it just like this?”

“Any camp is just like another,” the sergeant answered. “Hotter and wetter is all.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Not long. I was at Vicksburg. That was a nasty one. But I managed to get my share of Yanks. That all you want to know?”

“Uh, yeah . . . I suppose so.”

Teague hesitated. His eyes narrowed and he gazed intently into the young man's face as if revolving something around in his mind. Then he shook his head and returned to his tent.

Robert watched him until he was inside, confirming once more the tent location on his camp drawing. In the distance the inquisitive captain was watching him. Robert hurried back to his horse and rode out of camp back toward the city.

A
PPREHENSION

6

H
E RODE STRAIGHT TO THE
B
ALTIMORE POLICE
headquarters and asked for Detective Heyes.

“Mr. Heyes,” he said excitedly, “I've found him. I found Damon Teague. It's him. I recognized him from the shooting.”

“What do you want me to do?” asked Heyes skeptically.

“Well . . . go arrest him, what else?”

“Have you ever heard of proof . . . innocent until proven guilty?”

“Sure. But can't you arrest him on suspicion? He's got to be arrested if he's going to be brought to trial. You've got to do something before they break camp.”

“What would be the basis of an arrest?”

“A witness—me!”

The detective eyed him and his thoughts were plain enough to read on his face, that he didn't think much of the so-called witness's credibility.

“And when time for a trial comes,” Robert added, “I can guarantee you, there will be a dozen or more eyewitnesses who will agree with me. I saw him, Mr. Heyes. I was there. I tell you, Damon Teague is at the camp outside of town right now. He's a sergeant in the Confederate Army and is the same man who visited our church four years ago, and he is
the man who shot my sister. If you don't do something about it, I will.”

The detective saw that the young man was not going to be dissuaded.

“All right,” Heyes finally agreed. “I'll talk to my superiors.”

“When?”

“When I can.”

Unconvinced, the minister's son hurried from the room in obvious frustration.

Heyes watched him go, then realized he could have a mess on his hands if the kid ran into the camp and started shouting accusations. He'd better follow him and make sure there was no trouble.

But by the time Detective Heyes and several of his men reached the camp, the ruckus they had hoped to avoid had already begun.

When the minister's son next walked into the Confederate camp, he was carrying no sketch pad or pencils, though he still wore the large overcoat that had also been his trademark during the past week.

His stride was purposeful for a seventeen-year-old. A gleam of determination shone in his eye. Two weeks ago his heart had been set on entering the ministry. But for nearly all of the previous sleepless night he had been asking himself if he was prepared to kill, to take another human life. The consequences to his own life and future were not ones he could think clearly about right now. He only knew what he had to do—bring his sister's killer to justice . . . one way or another. Who could tell what the man might do in the future if not brought to justice? What if he killed again? Robert had not analyzed his own motives deeply enough to distinguish between vengeance and justice in his own heart. That was a quandary whose resolution would have to wait. At this
moment he was acting on impulse, emotion, grief, and perhaps more human vindictiveness toward the sinner rather than righteous indignation toward the sin than he would have been capable of recognizing. He was also little aware of the danger to himself.

The captain saw him walking through the camp and knew immediately from the expression on his face that something had changed.

“Hey there, son . . . just a minute,” he called after him. “I want to talk to you. I have a few questions.”

But Robert continued on. The captain followed, quickening his pace. He was just in time to see the boy walk straight into the tent of one of his sergeants and several of his men.

“Sergeant Teague,” said Robert.

The man glanced up from his bunk. The heads of two or three others in the tent also turned toward the intruder.

“Get up!” demanded Robert.

“What?” said the sergeant in annoyance.

“I said get up.”

Damon Teague was not the kind of man who took kindly to being ordered about by a boy half his age. His annoyance instantly turned to anger.

“Look, kid, I don't know who you are, but unless you—”

The boy reached into his pocket.

Teague stopped in midsentence. Suddenly he found himself staring into the barrel of a Colt 45.

“Get up,” repeated the boy. “You're under arrest.”

“For what?” Teague shot back. His temporary shock at the sight of the gun subsided as quickly as it had silenced him. He was not one easily intimidated, though he warily kept his eye on the boy's finger. “Get out of here!” he said.

“I said you're under arrest,” said Robert again. “For murder. Now get up!”

Teague glanced around at the other men, then broke out in laughter.

Just then the captain hurried in. In the dim light it took him a few seconds to make sense of the situation.

“What's going on here?” he demanded.

“I am making a citizen's arrest of Sergeant Damon Teague for murder,” said Robert.

Again Teague laughed. All the while Robert kept the gun pointed straight at his chest.

“The kid's crazy, Captain,” said Teague. “Can't you get rid of him? He's a lunatic. He barged in here waving that gun and making ridiculous accusations.”

“Don't make a move, Captain,” said Robert. “Or any of the rest of you. This man is a murderer.”

“What's it all about, Teague?” asked the captain.

“I tell you the kid's a lunatic. I don't know what he's talking about.”

“You're going to have to come with me, son,” said the captain, taking a step forward and laying a hand on Robert's arm.

Suddenly a shot echoed through the small tent. Teague cried out in momentary alarm as dirt flew up beneath his cot. The two corporals watching from their bunks leapt up and ran outside.

“I'm serious, Captain,” said Robert, again pointing the gun up at Teague. “I am taking this man with me.”

He stepped forward, reached down, and grabbed Teague's arm and yanked him to his feet. His strength took Teague by surprise. He found himself in a vise grip and on his feet before he could resist, with the barrel of the 45 jammed into his ribs. Robert pulled him toward the door of the tent.

Not anxious to lose one of his men, and now convinced that Teague's accuser was indeed crazy, the captain cautiously stepped aside. Outside, men were running to the scene from all directions, several with weapons in hand.

Detective Heyes and his men, who had arrived moments
earlier and had also heard the shot, saw the movement and hurried toward it.

A standoff had just begun to develop. They saw the minister's son emerging from a tent with a Colt 45 in the side of a soldier, with eight or ten rifles trained on him from the man's fellows.

They ran up as the captain walked out of the tent. He saw them and approached.

“Is this boy with you men?” he asked.

“I know him,” replied Heyes, “but he's not one of our men.”

“He's making wild accusations and talking about a citizen's arrest of my sergeant here.”

Heyes could not help smiling. The kid had guts, he'd give him that much!

“This is the man I was telling you about, Detective,” said Robert. “Now that you're here you can arrest him.”

The captain looked at Heyes again. Heyes glanced about at the growing crowd of soldiers.

“Look, Captain,” said the detective, “this is a tense situation. None of us want anyone to get hurt. Why don't you call your men off and we'll talk about it.”

“Then, what's it all about?”

“We've got a pending homicide in the city. We'd like to ask your man here some questions regarding it—that is, if you have no objections. If he's innocent, he'll be returned to you with an official apology. If it turns out there's evidence, then he'll get a fair trial.”

“Why do you think he's involved?”

“The boy here was a witness.”

“And you're going to take his word for it above my sergeant's? Look at him, he's just a kid.”

“That may be. But that is no reason to take your sergeant's word above his. That's why we want to question your man and get his story. That's how the law works. Believe
me, I'm inclined to think this kid is as crazy as you do. But I can't ignore what he says. He was a witness to the shooting. I've got no choice but to investigate. These two are telling different stories and we've got to get to the bottom of it. We all want the same thing.”

The captain thought a moment, then nodded.

“All right, men,” he said to those who had gathered about, “stand down. Go back to your tents.”

He turned to Teague. “Go ahead and go with him, Sergeant,” he said. “We don't want a run-in with the civilian authorities.”

“What—you're going to let me get railroaded by this kid!”

“Don't worry—we'll have you out and back here by tonight.”

Heyes stepped forward, eyed Robert coldly for having instigated such a ruckus, then took charge of Teague himself.

R
EFLECTIONS

7

W
ITH
D
AMON
T
EAGUE IN JAIL
, R
OBERT'S LIFE
gradually began to flow again into its previous channels. But nothing would ever be the same again. The two preceding weeks, and what would result from them, would forever change him and mark out a destiny he never could have foreseen.

Teague's increasing belligerence on the way into the city caused Heyes and his men to regard him as a more serious threat than they had at first. By the time they reached police headquarters, he was nearly out of control, yelling and swearing wildly, vowing to kill the minister's son and everyone else within earshot. Heyes put extra guards on him and ordered him locked up. What he had intended as a mere routine interrogation had turned ugly. If he was not quite yet prepared to take the boy's side, neither was he going to send the man back to camp without looking into the thing further.

He sent word back to the man's captain that, owing to new developments, on which he did not elaborate, Sergeant Teague would
not
be returned to camp by nightfall but would be held pending a thorough investigation. Then he sent for the deacon who had been acting as his liaison with the church and the minister.

While they were waiting, Robert asked if he could see the prisoner. Heyes thought a moment, then nodded.

He led Robert toward the block of cells.

“I'll station a guard right outside the door,” said Heyes. “Yell if he tries anything. He's pretty worked up.—And you had better let me have that Colt of yours before you go in.”

Robert gave him the gun and followed the guard down the dark hall. Teague glanced up as the door opened. He had calmed down in the thirty minutes he had been sitting there.