The Rebel Wife (33 page)
He always said the sweetest things. Was full up with them. And she loved every bit of it. She slid the ring on her finger and tilted her hand to and fro, making light spark off the facets. “I’ve never had anything so beautiful. Or expensive. Are you sure you can afford it?”
“Mr. Abell gave me a generous bonus for returning to
The Sun
. I even have my own office now.”
“How wonderful. Though any newspaperman as gifted as you should have his own office. Your article in
The Herald
was incomparable.”
“Incomparable, huh. Who’s using high-falutin words now?”
“I’m just saying how good it was.” She bent and picked up the green velvet cloth. “The way you described the conditions at the prisons. Made my heart bleed.”
He snagged the other end of the bolt. “It was good, wasn’t it? Even without the Carleton saga.”
Grinning, she walked toward him, folding the bolt end over end until she pressed herself and the folded fabric against him. “And I didn’t even have to hold you at knifepoint.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “Those flashing green eyes of yours are more lethal than any blade.”
“Hmmph. Don’t tell that to the bluebellies. They already think I’m dangerous enough.”
“You don’t have to worry about the soldiers any more. I learned today they located the man who killed that courier at Point Lookout.”
“Well that’s comforting. Now I won’t have to go around looking over my shoulder all the time.” She placed the folded fabric on the end table and picked up the red. “Who was it? Anybody you know?”
“Remember that fellow Smith who crossed the Potomac with you?”
“I saw him get arrested at the train station. The soldiers said he was a spy. Was it him?”
“No. But after a bit of persuasion, he gave up the name of the killer. It was Calhoun.”
The red fabric slipped from her fingers and pooled in the floor. “Calhoun!”
“It appears Calhoun and Smith were working together. The lieutenant would pass information to Smith, who then sent it to the Confederates.”
A double agent. He was a slimy skunk, but she never would’ve guessed that of the Texan. He had covered his tracks well. In more ways than one. She sank on to the chair behind her. “So that’s how Calhoun knew so much about me. Smith must have told him.”
Jack retrieved the fallen cloth and draped it over the back of the settee. “I convinced the guards to allow me to speak with Smith privately, on the pretense of conducting an interview before his execution. I wanted to find out what he knew about you and Calhoun.”
If anyone could dig out the truth, Jack could. “What did you learn?”
“He said he’s the one who helped Calhoun get away after the statue fell on him. Apparently the lieutenant never intended to turn you over to the provost. When you recognized Smith at the docks, he got scared, talked Calhoun into helping him head-off trouble. Smith had a carriage waiting at the edge of the property to spirit you away after Calhoun abducted you. But their plan misfired.”
Thank the Lord and Saint Francis it had
. “So, if Smith saved Calhoun, that means he might still be alive. What if he comes after us?”
“He won’t. He somehow survived his head injury. But not a posse’s bullet. He was shot while trying to escape after Smith gave up his whereabouts.”
The air went out of her. As she slumped back in the chair, a thought took hold. “What about my locket? Did they find it on Calhoun?”
“Smith didn’t know about any locket. It was most likely lost or buried along with the lieutenant.” He patted her shoulder. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
“No. I’m much happier having Lance with me than the locket. It’s probably a good thing it wasn’t found anyway. It might have raised too many questions.” The image of Calhoun twirling the locket chain around his finger rose in her mind. He was so young. So misguided. Like her. Before Jack.
“I’m sorry about the lieutenant’s death,” she added. “But, I have to admit, it’s a relief not having that cloud of worry hanging over me any longer.”
“Unfortunately, there’s one other cloud to be cleared up.” He knelt beside her and cupped her hand in his. “It’s about your father.”
Her heart lurched at his serious tone. “Papa? What about him?”
“I heard from my contact in Richmond. Seems the Lawrences had no hand in your father’s death.”
“How can that be?”
“Your father was helping escaped slaves flee north. The wrong people found out and well...they weren’t happy about his involvement in the Underground Railroad.”
“The Underground Railroad? That sounds like something he’d do.” Tears stung her eyes. “Oh, Papa...”
Ever the loving husband, Jack scooped her up, then sat in the chair with her cradled in his lap. “You’ve been through so much, sweetheart. How would you like to get away for a few weeks?”
“What do you mean?”
“Grandfather purchased us passage to Paris as a wedding gift. We can visit
The Louvre
. See all those statues you so admire.”
“But what about your fear of water? The nightmares?”
“I’ll be fine, as long as I have you by my side.”
Her heart radiated with sunshine. “I can read to you this time.”
He nuzzled her neck. “I’m thinking of something a lot more distracting than words.”
Donna Dalton lives in Central Virginia with her husband, two sons, and a pitbull mix named Gizmo. An avid reader of historical romances, Donna used the rich history of the “Old Dominion State” to craft this action-packed story set during the American Civil War.
Visit her at her website www.donnadalton.net or on Facebook at DonnaDaltonbooks.
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