The Sapphire Brooch (The Celtic Brooch Trilogy Book 2) (85 page)

“I wasn’t interested in the position.”

“I’m sorry.” Braham turned toward the commissioners. “Did you say you weren’t interested in a special assignment working directly for the President of the United States? Did you tell him you weren’t interested?”

Henly snarled. “Of course not.”

Braham twisted to look at the witness. “What did you tell Mr. Lincoln?”

“That I’d be honored to accept the position if offered.”

Braham turned back to the commissioners. “So you lied to the President of the United States. Is this what you’re saying?”

“
No, it’s not what I’m saying
?”

“The court would be interested in your explanation, Colonel. And after you explain why you lied to the President,” Braham then turned back to the witness, “maybe you’ll explain why you’ve lied to this court.”

“I haven’t lied.”

“Then tell the court when you last saw the person wearing this.” Braham opened the small bag, pulled out Charlotte’s wig, and tossed it to Henly.

He fumbled, gasped, and then let it fall to the ground. “
How dare you
?”

Braham picked up the wig and nonchalantly straightened the hairs. “How dare I what?”

Henly’s rage was back now, rising, smoldering behind his eyes. “
Insult me
.”

“How much laudanum do you take a day for the pain in your back? I believe you said you were wounded at Cedar Creek. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“Is that why you needed a henchman to grab Doctor Mallory from Lafayette Park yesterday? Because you’re too impotent to do it yourself?”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

Braham approached the witness stand, still holding the wig. “Isn’t it true, Colonel, you hated Jack Mallory for having no control over his sister, because you had intended to propose to her on the night in question?” Braham paused, allowing his question to thoroughly penetrate the observers’ consciousness.

“Isn’t it also true, Colonel, you hated me for getting the job you wanted, working for the President of the United States?

“Isn’t it true, Colonel, you kidnapped Doctor Mallory yesterday afternoon and dumped her badly beaten body in a rat-infested cellar so I would have to choose between looking for her,” Braham paused and pointed toward Jack, “or representing her innocent brother?

“Isn’t it true, Colonel, you framed Jack Mallory?”

The spectators in the courtroom erupted, and General Hunter banged his gavel. “Order. Order in the courtroom.”

Henly snatched his revolver from its holster, pointed it at Braham, and pulled the trigger.

92

Washington City, 1865

C
harlotte waited quietly
on the sofa in the parlor, reading an article in an old issue of Annals of Surgery. She’d read it five times and, while she didn’t remember much about the article, she did remember the first few words of the objective: “To evaluate the effect of implementing a multidisciplinary…” Well, okay, she didn’t remember it, either.

She closed the magazine with a snap and stuffed it into her knitting basket, which contained balls of yarn, needles, and whatnots. She had dropped her grandmother’s cameo brooch into the basket several days ago, after she had worn it, so she wouldn’t forget it again.

Idly, she rose and ambled over to the window to lean out, looking up and down the sidewalk. Two men in the park across the street came to attention, watching her closely. Another guard standing near the front door glanced up, grimacing. The window might as well have bars.

A scratching sound startled her. She jerked, gasping, but it was nothing more than a breeze coming through the window and skimming across the tabletop stacked with clipped newspapers. Her breathing eased, and she rubbed her arms against a slight chill. Rats. The memories of them crawling and nibbling all over her wouldn’t leave her alone.

Stir crazy, she paced the length of the foyer—back and forth and back and forth, annoying Edward, who glanced up from his perch near the door every time her heels clacked off the edges of the hallway’s Oriental runner.

It was after five o’clock. The men had not returned, and there had been no word from the prison. No newspapers. Nothing. If she didn’t hear from Braham or David or Gaylord within the next thirty minutes, she was going to scream “fire” and dash out of the house.

On her next trip down the hall, she went into the office for the umpteenth time to see if Cullen might have left a list of assignments hidden under a law book or stuffed inside one. She opened a book titled,
A Treatise of Legal Philosophy and General Jurisprudence
and thumbed through the pages. Nothing.

The front door opened. She dropped the book and ran out, coming to a sudden stop, her heart in her throat. When she found her voice, she shrieked, “
You’re free
. They did it.” She ran to Jack and threw herself into his arms, hugging him. She groaned as his squeezing arms tightened.

“I’m sorry, sis.” He loosed his grip. “Braham warned me Henly punched you.” He touched her face, lightly. “I’m so sorry.”

“Forget about me. Where’ve you been? You look fantastic.”

He smirked.

“No, I mean you’re…” She brushed his lapels. “…all clean and dapper.” The fragrances of a barber’s talcum powder and new clothes filled the air in pleasing waves. She stood back and scrutinized him. “Lost a few pounds. Ten, maybe. Food wasn’t so good, huh?”

He stared at her, eyes fixed wide, blue and unblinking above a small twitch of a smile. “Yeah, it was pretty bad. The hoods were worse. Thank God I spent so much time with the monks. Without mediation and the ability to go into deep trances, I’d have lost my mind. I spent hours in my head sitting by the river, reading.”

“Knowing you could do that kept me sane. So, Braham and Cullen accomplished everything they planned to do today.”

“You should have seen Braham. He was brilliant. I’d pay a million bucks for a video and pictures of the expressions on Hunter and Holt’s faces. True brilliance. When this movie is produced, it’ll win a dozen Oscars.”

Cullen and Braham opened the door and entered the house, laughing. Braham ambled toward her with a smile playing around his mouth, and he pulled her gently into his arms. “I told you I’d bring him home or die trying.”

David and Gaylord entered behind Cullen. She waved her hand at the whiskey fumes being exhaled by all five men. “If I lit a match, the house might explode. Y’all stopped to celebrate while I paced, dying for news.”

“We had to wait for Jack. He didn’t want to see you until he’d had a bath and shaved. While he did, we…” Braham pointed, carefully but tipsily, to Cullen, David, and Gaylord. “…shopped for new clothes for him.”

“We couldn’t bring him home naked,” David hiccupped.

They deserved to get drunk, smoke cigars, and tell tall tales until the wee hours of the morning, but when they started singing Scottish ballads off-key, which they were bound to do, she was going to bed.

“Why are we standing out here? I hear a bottle of whiskey calling my name,” Jack said, leading the way into the parlor.

“Hold on a second. Before y’all get too drunk, you need to tell me everything. Please. I’m dying to know what happened,” she said.

Braham poured a round of drinks, and they all found a seat. She scooted in between Jack and Braham on the sofa.

“There were a couple of tense moments,” Braham said.

“For me, not for him,” Cullen said. “Braham pulled Excalibur from the stone. He was in the…What’s the expression Kit uses?”

“Zone?” Braham said.

Cullen snapped his fingers. “Yes. That’s it. We’d rehearsed the questions and anticipated Henly’s responses, but reducing his laudanum to keep him on edge—” Cullen paused and gave a small head bow to David, “—was brilliant.”

David nodded. “Thank you, but the credit goes to Gaylord. “He’d already been inside Henly’s house. He knew where the medication was kept and the location of every weapon Henly owned. Once we diluted the laudanum and put blanks in all the guns, it was just a matter of babysitting until he reached the prison.”

“Wait, wait. Time out,” Charlotte said, making a T with her hands. “I’m missing something.
Who
did you think Gordon was going to shoot?”

Cullen, David, and Gaylord turned their heads slowly in Braham’s direction.

She gasped, glaring up at Braham, open-mouthed. “You set yourself up to get shot in order to prove Henly’s guilt? You’re
insane
.
All of you
. What if he’d used another weapon?”

Braham’s mouth quirked wryly as he met her eyes. Then he pounded on his chest with his fists. “Bulletproof vest.”

She ran her fingers through Braham’s hair, gripped a few strands, and shook his head. “It doesn’t protect your head. Did David forget to mention such an important detail?” A muscle twitched by Braham’s mouth, and she shot him a sharp glance tinged with amusement.

Cullen chuckled. “Stubbornness would protect his head.”

Gaylord cleared his throat and smiled. “David promised he’d give me the vest to keep. So hand it over.” There had never been a hint of a smile from Gaylord. His grin now widened, revealing straight white teeth.

Ignorance was truly bliss. A host of illegal activities had taken place over the last couple of weeks. The illegality had never bothered her. It was the danger the men had risked which would feed her nightmares.

“Have you talked to Stanton?” she asked.

“Before they would release Jack, I had a sit-down with Generals Holt and Hunter and Secretary Stanton. They wanted to know the name of the informant who passed me confidential information. I told them there was no security leak. When they pressed me for specifics, I told them once you and Jack were safely away from Washington, I would divulge my source.”

“What will you tell them?”

Cullen rolled his eyes toward her dramatically. “He’s throwing Gaylord under the cart.”

“
What
? You’re not. Not after all he’s done for us.” She ran her hand gently over her face, trying to adjust to this information.

Gaylord was the first of the men to howl with laughter. “Don’t worry, Miss Charlotte. I worked for the colonel in California, and came to Washington with him. When General Grant found my skills useful I adopted the code name Gaylord. Tomorrow I’ll head back to California and reclaim my identity. The colonel can throw me under the cart. Stanton will never find me unless I want to be found. Like you, ma’am, I have several disguises.”

“Will you tell me your real name?” she asked.

“Henry Bayford.”

She gave him a worried frown. “What about the men who were promised jobs?”

Gaylord lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug. “There were no guarantees. They’ll get a bonus.”

“So it’s all over?” she asked.

Jack stooped forward as if he bore a terrific weight. The indirect lighting in the room exaggerated the hollows of his drawn face, and there was a haunting behind his eyes. He nodded, squeezing her hand. “This part of it is. We’ll talk about the changes in our lives later.” His voice thickened, and he fell silent.

Time stopped for a heartbeat, and she looked at him through tears flooding her eyes. “So Braham told you about our memories?”

Jack took a shuddering, sighing breath. “He explained it on the way home. I’m so sorry, sis.”

She hugged him and held him as tightly as she could. “We’ll adjust to whatever we find when we get home. We have each other and nothing else matters.”

Memories of their ordeals would linger, but they would have each other, whether Jack lived in the two-hundred-year-old mansion from his memories or the chrome and glass condo from hers.

An expression came over Braham’s features she had never seen before—a look of sorrow, regret, and weariness mingled with relief. The war, his suffering, and the trial had worn him down and changed him irrevocably. It was time for him to go home, too. Time to rest, nurture his vines, and recover. With his war record and courtroom victory, his future was guaranteed. Although he was raised in Scotland, he was born in America. He could run for President of the United States.

She swallowed painfully. The two men she loved most in the world were hurting, and she was powerless to help them. All she could do was love them.

She opened the brass-mounted mahogany humidor on the table in front of the sofa. “Breakout the cheroots, boys, and pour me another drink. We’ve got some celebrating to do.”

93