Chapter Nineteen
Ft Leavenworth - April 1866
Amelia pushed the sunbonnet off her head. That’s much better. She leaned on her hoe and shaded her eyes as she looked up at the blue sky. Who knew keeping a garden could be such hard work?
Wiping her face, she moved to the bucket and drank from the ladle. If it’s so hot in April, what will it be like in July?
She laughed softly, remembering how she begged Clayton to let her plant a vegetable garden. He had refused. She might spoil her hands “digging in the dirt.” If I had that garden we might have fared better during the blockade. As it was, the flower garden she was allowed to water died never to return. Clayton told her it was apparent her talents did not extend to gardening, while he chucked her under the chin.
She moved to the shade of the porch to rest for a few moments. Joshua was only going out on a local patrol this morning. I wonder where he is.
After a short rest, she headed back to the vegetable beds. The vegetables would not grow without help, after all. The colonel’s wife, Lily Carson, advised all of the officers’ wives to keep gardens. It would help feed the families on post. They wouldn’t be dependent on uncertain shipments.
Amelia remembered what it felt like to go hungry. She worked hard to create a bountiful harvest. Moving with resignation, she returned to the bed she was clearing. She swung the hoe with zealous precision over and over to prepare to plant the seeds.
Amelia focused on her task so greatly that she didn’t hear the rider coming until he was off his horse.
“Mrs. Hawthorne, I’ve come from the major. He’s been hurt. He needs you.”
She tossed the forgotten hoe aside. “How badly is he hurt? What happened?”
“He took a bullet, Ma’am. We’ve got to hurry back. He’s asking for you.”
The corporal held out his hand. “Let me give you a leg up. You can ride behind me.”
Amelia looked toward her little house, undecided.
“Ma’am, it may already be too late. We can’t dawdle here any longer.” Impatiently, he grabbed her arms. “Up you go.”
She was tossed onto the horse. By the time she righted her position, the corporal was already in the saddle. He kicked the horse and they sped away, racing past the buildings and out through the gates. She heard shouts behind them but paid no attention. They rode in silence until they were out of sight of the fort. “How much farther is it, Corporal . . . I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”
“Just call me Corporal Wilkes, Ma’am.”
Over the sound of thundering hooves, she heard the corporal giggle and wondered why.
The sun continued its path toward the western horizon. When it was midway toward its goal, Amelia twisted in the saddle to look around them in all directions.
“Shouldn’t we be getting close now? I don’t see any signs of them.”
He pulled back on the reins. The roan slowed and finally stopped beside a small lake.
“The horse needs water.” Corporal Wilkes helped her down and led the horse to the water.
She stretched, straightened her clothes and pushed the hot sunbonnet back onto her shoulders. “How far are we from our destination?”
He didn’t answer. She watched him hobble the horse.
Amelia patted her apron pocket. The pistol was there. Breathing a sigh of relief, she looked at him. “What is this? Why did you bring me out here? Where’s Joshua?”
His leer was ugly. He took off his hat and the auburn wig he wore, tossing both to the ground. “You’re a hard woman to catch, Mrs. Wilcox.”
He sauntered closer to her.
She scowled at her captor. “Logan Matthews, I should have known. Well, you are tenacious, I must say.” Her momentary fear gave way to rage. Her fingers tightened on her pistol.
He cocked his head, his smirk ever present. “I always get what I want. I meant to have you when we first met. Then you cost me my occupation. It became imperative, a matter of revenge.”
She turned as he circled her, keeping her eyes on the enemy. “Your own behavior got you banned from the steamboat lines on the Mississippi, not me.”
“And that idiot Booth got most of the theaters closed by his actions. He just had to make a name for himself and do something to benefit his glorious Confederacy. Now actors are personae non grata, even in the south.”
He slammed his fist against his palm. “Hell of a thing to do to me, leave me without my profession. Is it any wonder, fair lady, that I sank to gambling to earn my keep?” He bowed in the manner of a cavalier.
She watched him, waiting for him to move toward her. “I had no idea the theaters were affected by the assassination.” Keep him talking and look for his weakness. She could almost hear Joshua’s voice instructing her during her lessons.
“Indeed they were. But didn’t you guess? Didn’t I give great performances?”
“What do you mean?”
“As I watched you and Hawthorne leave the Dixie Queen in St. Louis, it came to me. After that it was simple. I followed you everywhere you went. That was me on the street in St. Louis. I especially liked that role. I loved seeing you embarrassed.”
Amelia frowned as she remembered her fear that day and the day Dougie was lost. “What about my son, how did you lure him so easily?”
Matthews laughed heartily. “Little boys like animals, Mama, don’t you know that?” He perched on a boulder and pulled out his weapon, a Colt pistol, military issue. “I thought about kidnapping the little brat and forcing you to come to me. But then I thought better of it.” He rubbed his chin with the barrel of his gun.
“If you hurt my son, I promise I will kill you.”
“Yes, I figured you would feel that way. Besides, the monkey was a noisy little pest. Who wants to travel with such a messy beast? I finally shot it.” He sniggered as he looked at her.
She kept her face impassive. I won’t react to whatever else he says. It could be dangerous to show my hand too soon.
“So you followed us on the train to Kansas City,” she prompted him to continue his story.
Matthews chortled. “I spoke to the sergeant who tended the horses. He told me they were bound for Ft. Leavenworth. The rest was easy.”
Amelia began to pace and wring her hands. It’s best if he thinks I am vulnerable. At last, she faced the direction toward the fort. “So where did you get the uniform and the gun?”
“I’m afraid there is one less corporal at Ft. Leavenworth. You see, the one I picked didn’t want to let go of his possessions. So what choice did I have?”
He spread his arms wide with his palms facing the sky with a charming grin that belied the chill of his eyes.
Amelia glanced toward the trail they had taken. In the distance she saw a dust cloud as it billowed along the trail. She looked back at Matthews.
“So did you kill the corporal or just leave him wounded?”
“What good would it do me to just wound him? He’d tell everybody, including your busybody husband, that I did it.”
“And where did you leave the body?” She kept her expression detached and glanced at the ever growing cloud of dust. He’ll hear the horses soon as the troop nears us.
“The corpse won’t be found for a long time. Besides, they’ll think the Indians did it.” His smirk faded as he heard his stolen horse whinny. Then he heard the sound of oncoming horses. He turned in time to see mounted figures on horseback riding straight for him.
He turned back to Amelia. “Aye, there’s the rub. What am I going to do with you? It seems our time grows short.”
She looked at the riders. Joshua rode in front leading his men.
Amelia breathed deeply to slow her racing heart. She put her hand in her apron pocket and grasped the pistol. It was notched correctly.
“That big major of yours makes a perfect target. I wonder how he survived the war. He’s probably a coward and spent the time well behind the lines.”
Don’t let him distract you. Amelia shut down her fear as
she pulled out the pistol and kept her hand at her side, hiding the gun in her full skirt.
“Amelia,” roared Joshua. “Has he harmed you?”
Matthews reached out and pulled Amelia in front of him. “Not yet, Major, but I’ll get what I want.”
“Let her go!”
“Now why would I want to do that?” He clutched Amelia tighter to him.
Joshua dismounted and walked slowly closer to them. “You don’t want to harm her, Matthews.”
“Don’t I?”
Amelia felt her assailant laughing behind her as his cigar-fouled breath soiled her hair.
“You’re surrounded. You won’t escape.” Joshua held his hands up. “My gun is in my holster. We don’t have to do this.”
Matthews laughed shrilly. “Maybe you don’t, but I do.” He pointed the Colt at Joshua. “Too bad you didn’t think to draw your gun.”
“I’ve seen enough death.” Joshua’s eyes never wavered.
Matthews pulled back the hammer on the revolver. “Only one more death for you and it will be your own.”
Amelia looked in Joshua’s eyes. She felt him encourage her. I can do this. She spun suddenly around in Matthews’ grasp. “I can’t watch this.”
“There, there, little lady, you don’t have to watch.” Momentarily distracted, he loosened his grip on her and looked at her face.
She gazed directly into his eyes and pulled back from him, taking advantage of his diverted attention. She raised her right arm and pressed her gun to his chest. “It’s over, drop your gun.”
His smile never wavered. “Well, aren’t you a clever girl? Sorry, sweetheart, your little popgun won’t stop me.”
Amelia watched him glance over her shoulder. She pulled back the hammer into firing position.
Matthews blinked and moved his arm as he aimed again at Joshua.
Amelia pulled the trigger without hesitation.
He looked down in surprise at the red stain blooming in the middle of his chest. His head cocked to the side as he looked at Amelia. She stepped back from him. Mouth working, he tried to say something, but no sound emanated. He wheeled and tumbled to the ground, his open eyes forever frozen in sad bewilderment.
She gawked at the motionless form at her feet. For a moment, she felt nothing, said nothing. She stared down at the man she killed. Then tremors started at her feet and moved up her body. Why is the ground shaking? Her legs would no longer support her. She gave up trying to control herself, and crumpled.
Before she hit the ground, strong arms pulled her upright. Joshua swept her high against his chest. “It’s all right, Dearest.” He held her close, nuzzling her hair.
“He was going to kill you!” she wailed. Gulping, she looked up at him. “He killed some poor corporal to get his uniform and gun.”
Joshua carried her to his horse. “I know. We found Corporal Mercer.”
“He said you’d think the Cheyenne did it.”
“We knew the murderer was white. You were seen riding in back of a white man leaving the fort on Mercer’s horse.”
He lifted her onto the saddle. “Hold on, I’ll ride behind you.”
After Joshua mounted, Sergeant O’Doyle walked up to the horse. He held out the pocket pistol. “Here’s your Philadelphia Deringer, Mrs. Hawthorne.”
Amelia’s smile wobbled as she took her pocket pistol. “Thank you, Sergeant.”
“You don’t want to lose that little gun. You’re a right fine shot, Ma’am and a brave lady, if I may say so.”
Amelia watched the men tie Matthews’ remains on the roan. The troopers mounted their own horses.
When they were finished, Joshua murmured into her ear. “Let’s go home.”
He straightened and led the way back to Ft. Leavenworth. Amelia leaned against him the whole way. Only he overheard her soft voice. “I’m already home, my love.”