These Honored Dead (25 page)

“I doubt it,” said Phillis. “The man’s ignorant. And a butcher.”

Suddenly Martha’s face lit up. “We must go to her at once,” she said. She was on her feet, grabbing Phillis by her arm. “We haven’t a moment to lose. The sun’s almost already up as it is.”
She hurried from the office without another word, the slave midwife in tow.

“I do admire her enthusiasm,” said Lincoln in Martha’s wake.

“She’s impetuous,” I said. “Rushing around before she thinks. You saw what trouble it got her into with Hathaway yesterday.”

“Did Jane Patterson really take her own life?” Lincoln asked.

“There was a scuffle in the dark, and the gun she’d been holding against Phillis’s head went off,” I said. “The bullet went straight through Jane’s heart. No one will ever know exactly what happened. But I think, all things considered, assuming that Jane shot herself is the only sensible conclusion.”

Lincoln thought about this, nodded, and resumed scrawling out his notes. “I’ll leave you in peace,” I said. “You’ll need to reach new heights of eloquence in your argument in the morning. Unless we can somehow convince the judge to hear the new evidence.”

Rather than head back to my lodgings, I paced the dark, deserted streets. I was bone tired from the exertions of the past day and night, but my mind was restless. There had to be a way to persuade Judge Thomas to receive the evidence we’d uncovered. For all his bluster, I knew the judge, at bottom, sought to discover the truth.

Surely
I
could make him see it. As a man of the law, Lincoln seemed encumbered by the strictures of the Black Code. But I was not. I would stand before the judge at the start of trial in the morning. I would proclaim the truth: that Jane Patterson had killed the Widow Harriman and her two wards and that she’d taken her own life in front of me rather than take responsibility for her crimes. I would lead the judge and sheriff to her body. I would explain that Jane had a motive for these horrendous acts and that her father’s confession of madness was, in fact, a false note of paternal love. I would lay before the court the details proving that Jane and Jane alone could have been the villain.

Rebecca’s killer was dead and yet justice was not done. If Dr. Patterson swung for a crime he did not commit, Rebecca’s
memory would be tainted. I would not let it happen. I’d told my sister honor had nothing to do with going back to rescue Phillis, but honor had everything to do with this.

As the plan of action coalesced in my mind, I turned around and headed home to get an hour’s sleep. The faintest hint of the coming dawn glowed in the eastern skies. In the distance, I could hear the sounds of the town slowly coming to life.

As quietly as I could, I opened the door to the store and crept through the storeroom and up the back stairs. Hurst and Herndon were snoring in syncopation in the other bed. Silently I unlaced my boots, undressed, and lay down in our empty bed. I was exhausted. My plan was bound to succeed, I thought as I closed my eyes. I would stand tall in front of the courtroom when the trial recommenced. I would be the herald of the truth.

The last thought I had before my mind went blank was that I should leave a note for Herndon asking him to wake me in time.

“T
here you are, Speed. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“What time is it?” I mumbled. I opened my eyes a crack and saw bright sunlight flooding our bedroom. In an instant, I recalled my plan from the prior night and I flung myself out of bed, feeling around for my clothes before I’d even hit the ground.

“You’re too late,” said Lincoln with a laugh. “The trial’s over.”

“How can it be? But I was going to—what’s happened? Did you win?”

“The doctor has, it appears.”

“What?” I sat down on the side of our bed and tried to shake the slumber out of my pounding head.

“You slept through quite some excitement. Dr. Patterson was gone from his jail cell this morning. And that foreign fellow, Gustorf, had disappeared too. Vanished—the both of them. You’ll be glad to hear your sister suffered no lasting harm, though.”

“What happened to Martha?” I demanded.

“It’s a funny thing, in the end,” said Lincoln. “She was found in the jail cell this morning. Tied up and gagged. And clad in the doctor’s coat, with his boots shoved onto her feet. She told the sheriff she’d happened upon the scoundrels as they were sneaking away in the dark and they detained her and threw her into the cell so she couldn’t raise the alarm.”

“Did they?” I had the sense I was missing something, but in my groggy state, I couldn’t quite put together the various pieces of what Lincoln was telling me.

“Proved to be crucial for them, I think,” Lincoln continued. It seemed unlikely, but it was almost as if there was amusement lurking behind his wide-set eyes. “The sheriff looked out at the cell at dawn, as he always does, but when he saw what he thought was Patterson’s sleeping form under the surgical coat, he didn’t actually go outside for a close view. So it wasn’t until several hours later, when he went to make sure the doctor was ready for court, that he realized it was your sister under the coat. And by then, the rogues had vanished.

“Half the town’s out looking for them,” Lincoln added. “The sheriff’s posted a bounty. But I doubt highly they’re around to be found. It’s a good thing I thought to get my fee from the doctor up front.”

“I can’t believe it,” I said.

“Neither could Judge Thomas,” said Lincoln. “You should have seen it. He threw a fit. Shouted at the sheriff so loudly I feared the old walls of the courtroom might collapse then and there. But what can he do? Nothing, unless they find the fugitives.”

“Well, I suppose it’s all worked out for the best, somehow or other,” I said. “You’re sure Martha’s unharmed?”

“I just saw her with my own eyes over at the sheriff’s house. She’s never looked more spirited.”

“That’s saying something.” I yawned. “In that case, I think I’ll close my eyes for another hour. It was an awfully long day yesterday.” I lay back down on the bed.

“You’ll have to get up soon, though,” said Lincoln. “Now that court’s been cancelled, Hutchason has promised to start his spree on the stroke of twelve noon.”

“Why is he celebrating? He’s lost his prisoner.”

“But he’s gained a child. Molly gave birth to a little daughter early this morning. Phillis reached her side just in time. She may
not have been able to testify, but her knowledge proved invaluable nonetheless.”

I could only shake my head in wonder. Lincoln and I agreed to meet in the storeroom shortly before noon to head over together to Hutchason’s spree. He turned to leave, but before he ducked out of the bedroom door I called after him. “You know, Lincoln, I’ve just realized—this keeps up your record in murder cases.”

His face broke into a broad, toothy grin. “You’re right, Speed,” he said. “Still haven’t lost one yet.”

***

Between the spree and the continuing commotion surrounding Patterson’s disappearance, it was not until two days later that I first got the chance to speak alone with Martha. She suggested we pick wildflowers to place by Molly Hutchason’s bedside. We walked out of town arm in arm and headed into the waning prairie.

“You must be pleased with yourself,” I said. The puzzle pieces of Patterson’s flight had long since come together in my mind.

She giggled. “Of course. Aren’t you pleased with me? Dr. Patterson did wrong by trying to cover for his daughter’s madness, but he didn’t deserve to hang for that mistake.”

“I agree, though I can’t figure out why you willingly courted such danger to ensure he didn’t,” I said. “If the sheriff had discovered your scheme . . .”

“When we got back to the house that night it was chaos. Molly was screaming in pain, Humble bellowing with worry. Phillis took charge immediately, directing everyone about. The last thing anyone possibly would have noticed was me taking the keys to the jail cell from the hook inside their back door. And if someone had, I would have said I was going out to ask Dr. Patterson a question about Molly’s care.”

Martha bent down and picked a few stems of striking smooth, blue asters. When she straightened up, she added, “Besides, it was apparent you weren’t going to take up Mr. Lincoln’s hint.”

“I plumb missed it at the time,” I admitted, “if he indeed meant it as a hint. Prussians travelling far for brandywine—what nonsense. Even now, I’m not completely sure he meant it as a suggestion rather than it being merely another of his absurd sayings.”

Martha laughed and skipped ahead, making a beeline for a spectacular stand of ox-eye sunflowers and compass plants, a riot of yellow, orange, and gold. “You can believe that if you want,” she called over her shoulder. “But I think I know your Mr. Lincoln better.”

I knelt and cut off several long stalks of Indian grass and little bluestem. The cold nights had already started to turn the bluestem a reddish bronze. I ran my fingers up its spine and the silvery-white seed heads scattered to the winds.

“What did you tell Patterson about Jane?” I asked.

“The truth. That Phillis had overheard their argument the prior afternoon, that Jane tried to have her stolen, to silence her, but that you’d tracked her down and learned what had happened. And that when Jane realized as much, she took her own life. I told him where we’d left her body, so he could recover the remains.”

“He must have been devastated.”

Martha nodded. “At first, he refused to leave the cell. But I convinced him that his senseless death wouldn’t do anything to reverse hers. And that he had a chance to do for others what he’d failed to do for Jane by covering for her madness for so long. In the end, he promised me he would.”

“I’m most surprised you were able to enlist Herr Gustorf in your scheme,” I said. “And to do so with such speed.”

“I wasn’t too sure I’d be able to,” Martha said, chewing on her lip seriously. “On my way over with his team and calèche carriage, I’d figured out all manner of ways of trying to wake him without disturbing the Pattersons’ hired girl. But when I got there, he was already on the porch, smoking his pipe in the murk.”

“But how did you get him to go along? It was quite a risk for him too.”

“A girl knows what a man wants,” said Martha, smiling at me slyly.

“Martha!” I exclaimed. “Don’t tell me that you—what did you do for him? Or promise to him?”

My sister bent over double, laughing so hard tears came to her eyes. “Not
that
,” she said when she finally recovered her breath. “He didn’t want that. Well, he probably did, but not as much as he wanted something else.”

She looked at me expectantly, but when I failed to supply the answer she continued, “His
cast
, Joshua. He wanted the doctor to be able to remove his cast, so he could go back to a normal existence. At first, he absolutely refused my suggestion he drive the doctor away in his carriage, but then I pointed out that if the doctor left without him, so too would the only medical man in the West with the knowledge of how to remove the cast without sawing off his leg. He tamped out his pipe at once and set off.”

I laughed and Martha smiled with satisfaction. We turned to head back to town, linked arm in arm. Martha carried a bouquet overflowing with the long stems of yellow and blue and purple wildflowers. She glowed vibrant and fresh against the slowly decaying prairie.

“I’ve decided to organize proper gravestones for Rebecca and the two children,” I said. “It isn’t much, but I think it’ll provide a final measure of honor to their lives. And deaths.” Martha squeezed my arm and I felt her warmth.

A little further along I added: “And you need never worry again that I won’t take you seriously. To have done everything you did—and before the sun even rose. No one else could have managed it.” I paused. “It
was
quite a risk you took, you know.”

“There was more peril in not acting,” she said. “That’s what I thought, anyway. You can’t go through life merely focusing on the risks of acting, Joshua. You might never get anything done.”

I looked at her with pride and wonder and thought how much more I had to learn from my younger sister. “Martha?” I began. “Do you want to stay—”

“Oh, yes, please,” she shouted, dropping her bouquet to the ground and throwing her arms around my neck. “Yes—yes—a thousand times yes. I was hoping you’d ask. I’ll stay here in Springfield forever.”

“No one’s said anything about forever,” I said, returning her hug and then slipping free of her embrace. “Let’s take it a season at a time. But I will write to Father and ask that you be allowed to stay here through the winter, at the least.”

“That’ll do, as a start,” said Martha. She bent down and carefully gathered up her flowers and then she gaily linked arms with me again. “As long as, next spring, you write him to say you’ve discovered you need my company through the fall. And so on. I’ll tell you this, Joshua. I’m never going back to the strictures of Farmington. Not after I’ve discovered what I can do—what I can be—here.”

“We’ll see,” I said. “As I said, we’ll take it a season at a time.”

When we reached the Hutchason yard again, Phillis was at the pump, filling two earthenware jugs. Martha hurried up to her.

“Phillis dear,” she said. “I’ve decided to extend my stay in Springfield. Indefinitely. You shall stay here with me as my housemaid. I’m sure that’ll be pleasing for you, to be of further service. Besides, you’ll enjoy much more freedom here than you have at Farmington.

“Joshua will write to our father to sort things out with him. And we can register you as an indentured servant, which you’ll be, of a sort, so all the formalities will be taken care of. It shall be a tidy arrangement for us all.”

“Yes, Miss Martha,” Phillis mumbled after a brief pause. She had finished filling her jugs and stood, eyes downcast, next to the pump.

Martha gave a broad, pleased smile and started to continue into the Hutchason house, but when I took another look
at Phillis, I came to a halt. Something about her posture, perhaps the strong carriage of her shoulders, recalled the fortitude she’d shown when confronting Jane Patterson in the darkened poorhouse.

“What is it?” I asked.

Phillis turned partially in my direction but remained mute.

“You may speak your mind,” I said.

“Sinderella needs me,” came the slave’s hoarse voice.

“Who’s Sinderella?”

“My gran’baby. Just turned one year. Her momma can’t care for her, not properly. She needs me.”

“And where does Sinderella live?” Martha asked. “Somewhere in Jefferson County, I’d guess. Near about Farmington?”

“
At
Farmington. She belongs to your papa. Like me.”

“Don’t you think one of the other girls on the farm can take of her?” asked Martha.

“I suppose, ma’am,” Phillis replied, her eyes focused on the brimming jugs that rested at her feet.

“Good, then it’s settled—”

I held up my hand. “Wait,” I said. “Are you saying, Phillis, you would rather go back to Farmington, to the conditions of your bond, than to stay here in Springfield with Miss Martha, where you’d enjoy so much more latitude?”

Phillis turned and looked me directly in the eyes. The experience was so unfamiliar that I found myself taking a half-step backward. “For Sinderella’s sake, Master,” she said quietly. “She needs me. Meaning no offense to Miss Martha.”

“Miss Martha takes no offense, I assure you,” I said. “She’ll manage here just fine without you. Won’t you, Martha?” My sister nodded resolutely. “We shall do as you ask.”

Phillis’s eyes had reverted to the ground. She gave no outward sign of gratitude but rather picked up her jugs, slopping with water, and walked through the back door and into the Hutchason house.

***

The following week, I encountered an engaging young woman with vivid blue eyes and rose-red lips who was returning to her native Kentucky after spending the summer visiting with her older sisters in Springfield. The woman seemed a responsible sort—she told me she was returning home to become an apprentice teacher—and I entrusted Phillis to her custody. She later wrote to confirm that she’d deposited Phillis at Farmington before completing her journey home to Lexington.

As it turned out, that woman, Mary Todd, would soon come back to Springfield—this time permanently. But that’s another story for another day.