Surrender (38 page)

Jerome scowled at the soldier on guard who shrugged unhappily. “Do you mind? She’s my sister. I hardly intend to offer her harm!”

“But, sir—”

“Soldier, we’ve personal family matters to discuss.”

“Ma’am, your brother is known to be the Devil
himself, so you can rest assured that I’m right outside the door,” the soldier said.

“I do not need protection from my own brother!” Sydney said indignantly.

The soldier nodded and slipped outside the door. “Well, not most of the time, anyway,” Sydney amended mischievously.

“Sydney!”

“Sorry. It’s just that you do always think you’re in charge.”

“I’m your older brother. But tell me, quickly, before they decide to come in on us—is Halston in Washington already?”

“No … no, they won’t turn him over until an actual exchange is contracted. But now they’re dragging their heels, and saying they won’t exchange you, that the Rebs are going to have to agree on another prisoner!”

Jerome sank down onto the bench, running his fingers through his hair and grating his teeth together. “Damn him. Damn her.”

“Who?” Sydney asked puzzled.

“Magee. And Risa.”

“Jerome, I know that Magee is the Yank to end all Yanks, but I met him, and he’s a decent man—”

“Exactly. And he thinks he’s being decent, keeping me here. I’ll guarantee you, he’s gotten to the upper-ups around here and insisted I not be exchanged.” He frowned, looking at her. “You met Magee?”

Sydney nodded. “At the baptism. Oh! Jerome, I didn’t tell you yet! I was so angry with your wife, I was ready to refuse, but it was your child, you see, so I agreed to be godmother.”

“To Jamie?”

“Of course—oh, Jerome! He’s adorable. He’s the spitting image of you. A little tiny Captain McKenzie with this great cap of hair already! And McKenzie eyes. You could pick those eyes out in any crowd! He’s a beautiful baby, Jerome, really. Not in the least wrinkled up. He’s strong. He was just a few weeks old at the baptism, already pushing himself up. He’s going to have a temper, that one! I hated having to give him back to … her.”

“Risa was well?”

Sydney hesitated. “Yes, she was just fine. She was … aloof. Cool and calm throughout the day, ignoring my rudeness, and I promise you, I was very rude. But she’s so tall … so slender, and poised! It’s easy to see how”—Sydney hesitated and shrugged—“how she manages so much.”

“Her father denies her involvement in any of this,” Jerome murmured.

“You talked with Magee?”

“Yes. We disagree on which side to be on, that’s all,” Jerome murmured. He stood, pacing the small room. “Sydney, I have to get out of here.”

“Oh, Jerome, I’m trying so hard! Mother has been writing letters, father’s family is ready to start another Seminole war. Ian has been arguing himself silly, though he wrote me that he thinks you’re better off locked up for the remainder of the war. Except that he knows you’ll try to find a way out no matter what—”

“Yes, he’s right. Are you going to be able to see me again?”

“I believe they’ll let me come again.”

“Tomorrow?” he asked anxiously.

Sydney nodded slowly. He was already planning….

Anthony Hawkins, the Mississippian, was the one to come up with the best idea.

They sat together in the mess area, sipping coffee, watching the men move about, eyeing the guards.

“There ain’t no way for a man to go shootin’ his way out of here,” Hawkins noted grimly. “You have to do it like a damned ghost or the like. You’re in the heart of the Yank territory. The very damned heart of the place. You threaten the wrong person here, and you’ll be gunned down like a dog before you move two feet.”

“Well, I admit, getting a rifle and trying to shoot my way out wouldn’t work too well. I’d need an arsenal.”

“The only way to walk out of here would be—to walk out of here. You know, like the womenfolk who come.”

“Mmm.”

Jerome suddenly sat straighter. “We got anybody can get a message to my sister?”

Hawkins hesitated, swallowing his coffee. “Ricky
Boyle’s old grandmother comes every Tuesday. She could reach Sydney.”

“Boyle’s old grandmother?” Jerome inquired, smiling. “Is she—the delicate sort?”

“Delicate?” Hawkins snorted. “She’s fightin’ Irish, all the way. Dragged eleven children and their children out of the potato famine of ’49 back in the old country. Delicate? Hell, no, sir, she’s the Devil in a dress!”

“Good! Just the woman I need. And surely such a fine old Irish lass will have a few friends?” Jerome suggested. “Have you a mind to escape with me?”

“Captain, I guarantee it!”

“Any others? We must be able to trust them.”

“I know all the Mississippians. And there’s a Florida boy here. Robert Gray. Rode with Dickison.”

“Good. No more than four of us—but that number will do well. You choose the other two, men who are eager to go, and who can take orders. Now, listen closely, here’s the way it’s going to be done …”

Things went amazingly well, all according to plan, except that there was a slight hitch with Sydney.

On the day decided upon for the escape, the Irish Roses Ladies’ Choral Group arrived at the prison, intent on bringing the melodic word of God to the poor Rebs. Old Maureen Boyle had outdone herself, arriving with so many ladies, it was quite impossible to keep track of them as they flitted about, warning the guards that they were all subject to the Word of God. Sydney slipped in with the ladies, but she was very nervous, and when she came by Jerome’s side she told him, “They’re carrying out the exchange! Colonel Halston was returned to the city last night, and they’ve released a general from up at Elmira in your stead.”

“So what’s the matter?” he asked her.

“I just wish that—oh, nothing. I wish it would have all gone through as planned, that’s all.”

“This will work; you’ll see.”

As Maureen’s ladies visited the prisoners, the four who intended to break out received little bits and pieces of costume from them.

They sang hymns. They sang hymns so long that the
guards began to drift: Larson, leaning on his rifle, actually snored.

By the time the ladies left, the guards were delighted to see them go. The women departed arm in arm, still singing to one another boisterously.

Jerome did not make a good woman—he was far too tall. But they had all carefully shaved, and he had been given an excellent wig and hat, and padding that gave him admirable breasts. As he hunched over and departed the prison, he heard Larson comment, “My God, but there were some ugly women among that bunch of God seekers!”

“Ugly, indeed!” muttered Sally O’Reilly, an attractive woman of about forty with wild red hair and beautiful green eyes. “That’s why the fellow tried pinching us all afternoon!”

“He didn’t!’ Maureen Boyle protested, horrified.

“He did! But we must go back, and when we do—when we’re not on a mission such as this—I will smack him with my reticule,” Sally swore.

“Right now, we had better hurry along, Grandmother, eh?” queried Ricky Boyle, who had opted to escape with them.

“As you say, me boy. Hurry along, lasses, hurry along!” Maureen advised.

They came to Mrs. Boyle’s house in the center of town. There, the men cast aside their women’s garments, and the good ladies offered them the clothing of their menfolk—most of them dead, Jerome was sorry to hear. The ladies prepared a bountiful meal, meat and kidney pies along with dishes of potatoes and hot apple pie. They had to keep their nerve, and not leave the city until dusk. If they left too early, they’d be spotted in the light. Too late, and a cry would have come up in the city because their absence from prison would be noted. Roll call was taken once in the morning, and a count was taken again at night.

Just at dusk, they were due to slip aboard a wagon load of corpses bound for points south. Such wagons were seldom stopped or inspected by the pickets.

Washington was filled with Southern sympathizers.
Jerome wondered if Lincoln ever realized just how many. At dusk, they left the Boyle house, slipping quietly along the streets, into the shadows, one by one. They reached the junction near the bridge that would take them to Virginia. It was then that Jerome realized Sydney had fallen behind.

Sydney had been totally unprepared for what happened. She had been afraid—oh, God, yes, all day she’d been afraid, in absolute terror! She hadn’t thought that the Irish matrons could really manage the feat of getting the men out. She had been certain that a guard would take one look at her towering brother, and know he was no lady. But Jerome had walked out and no contingent of guards or soldiers or civilians had come after them. But somehow, while walking down the street in her place among the men, she had found herself swept into the shadows.

She had tried to scream, but a hand came over her mouth and prevented so much as a grunt escaping her. Then she heard a warning voice, “Miss McKenzie, pay me heed. I can cry out an alarm right now, and all but guarantee that every one of those Rebs will be shot down on the spot—your brother included. Or I can keep quiet—and you and I can have a little conversation.”

Even before he released her, before she could turn, she knew that Jesse Halston—so recently released!—was her detainer. And she knew she mustn’t let out any sound then.

Her brother would come back for her. He would die before he let harm befall her.

When she was free, she spun around, and stared at Jesse, pure fury flashing in her brilliant green eyes. “You bastard! My brother Brent saved your life, I tended you for months on end, you fool, and you’re threatening—”

“Shut up, Sydney, and pay attention,” he snapped, and his hazel eyes were like a fierce gold fire reflected in the gaslight. “If I wanted to cause harm to Captain McKenzie, I could have done so by now.”

“Then—”

“I intend to let him go. He was cheated out of his release—North and South, everyone knows that. In fact,
I intended to tell him his wife is visiting her father, where Magee and his men are camped out near Fredericksburg, getting ready for the spring campaigns.”

“Then—?” Sydney persisted.

“You’re not going with him.”

“What?”

“He’s risking his life. Most Yanks wouldn’t hurt a woman, but you get caught with him, or get in the midst of fire … well, men aren’t always responsible for what happens.” Jesse Halston, tall and imposing in the shadows, nodded his head, indicating Jerome, who had turned back to find Sydney. “Miss McKenzie, you’re going to tell him that you’ve opted to remain in the city, that you can return South safely with proper military passes at any time. Do you understand? I am armed, with two six-shooting Colts.”

Sydney stared at him incredulously. After all that she had done for this man! But …

“Sydney!”

She heard her brother’s voice, and she rushed out into the street, anxious to meet Jerome before he found her in the shadows with Jesse.

“Jerome, I’m sorry, so sorry, but—I’ve decided not to go with you.”

“What? Sydney, I can’t leave you here—” he began with a fierce, determined frown.

“No, wait, you must listen, Jerome, it’s only logical! I don’t have to escape the city! I’m not a prisoner, I came here to return a Yank. I don’t have to use subterfuge to get back, which wouldn’t matter, but I’d just slow you down.”

Jerome was shaking his head. “Sydney, I can’t leave you on the damned streets alone—”

Sydney froze, aware then that Jesse Halston had stepped from the shadows, and come forward to meet her brother. Jerome arched a dark brow, his features impassive, his blue eyes darkening to ebony as they narrowed.

“I would die for her, Captain!” Jesse said determinedly, standing behind Sydney, his hands on her shoulders. “But she risks bullets and other dangers if
she runs with you. You know that to be true, Captain McKenzie.”

Jerome’s eyes remained hard on Jesse; Sydney was surprised that Jesse didn’t quail beneath her brother’s withering stare. Jerome had the capability of looking as savage as any painted warrior about to take scalps.

But her brother looked at her then. “Sydney, if you want to stay with him, he’s right. Running, you risk the dangers we face. And you can, logically, return by a more normal route at will—if this is your choice. Except that, if you had planned on meeting Colonel Halston here, I wish you might have shared that information with me!”

Sydney forced herself to smile, moistening her lips. Naturally, Jerome thought that she had planned on meeting him. And she had to let her brother believe that to be true.

“I’m sorry, Jerome. I didn’t think you’d trust him. After all, she said sweetly, “he is the enemy.”

“I just told Sydney, Captain McKenzie, that your wife is in Virginia. Magee’s troops are camped near Fredericksburg.”

Jerome arched a brow, watching Jesse with greater interest. “And my son? Do you know where I might find him?”

“Ah, sir, a nursing mother seldom leaves her infant.”

Jerome nodded his acknowledgment. “Thank you. I entrust my sister to your care, as it’s her choice, and, admittedly, far safer than her accompanying me. However, Halston, if any ill befalls her—war or no war, it will be in hell itself, I’ll find you.”

“Have I raised an alarm, Captain?” Jesse queried. “Have I done anything to hinder your escape? I am far too indebted to your family. But you had best be going, before your time runs out!”

“Sydney?” Jerome said, his tone gruff.

She threw her arms around him and hugged him. “Go, please, Jerome, go. Trust me, I’m fine. Please, go!”

He nodded, and released her.

Then he shook hands with Halston. “Keep her safe, sir!”

Jerome’s eyes met hers once again. She forced a smile,
slipping her arms through Jesse’s and leaning her chin against his chest.

Jerome smiled, nodded slightly, and turned at last. He sprinted into the shadows, and was swallowed by the darkness.

Sydney waited until she was quite certain he was gone.

Then she turned on Halston, tears stinging her eyes. She took a wild swing at him, trying to slap him. “Ingrate! Bastard!” she charged him.

He caught her arm before she could strike him, pulling her close. “I’m damned sorry, Sydney, I just couldn’t let you take such a risk.”