Love and War

'This is astounding. You must come inside and give me a fuller explanation of —'

'Later, sir,' Orry interrupted. 'I have one more task to do to close the books on this affair. Be careful of that coal. If you try to burn it, you'll blow yourself up.'

He limped away, vanishing in the dark.

When he drew the empty navy Colt at the front door of the house on Grace Street, Orry noticed dark speckling on the butt. Bent's blood. With a shiver, he grasped the muzzle and beat on the door with the revolver. The bell had drawn no response.

'Someone open up.' He leaned back to roar at the upper story. 'If you don't, I'll blow the lock off.'

That got immediate response, but it came from the other side of the street where gas lamps shed a pale, misty light. A grumpy householder flung up a window, snatched off his nightcap and shouted, 'Do you know the hour, sir? Half past three in the morning. Stop that racket, or I'll come down and horsewhip —' The front door opened. Orry shouldered inside, expecting to see Huntoon's face. Instead, it was Homer's, half illuminated by an upraised lamp.

'Tell them I want to see them, Homer. Both of them.'

'Mr. Orry, sir, they aren't —'

He ignored the old man and stalked to the stairs. 'Ashton? James? Get down here, damn you.'

The wild echo showed him how close he was to losing control again. He gripped the banister post and held tight, calming a little. He sensed Homer behind him; a light pool spread around his feet. Then a second glow, upstairs, preceded Huntoon, who cautiously approached the head of the stairs. Ashton followed, carrying the lamp. Neither was dressed for bed.

Orry looked up as she gripped the white-painted wood of the rail to the left of the landing. It was one of the few times he had ever seen his sister frightened.

'An old scene repeats itself, doesn't it, Ashton? I sent you away once in South Carolina and now I'm doing it in Virginia. This time, however, the stakes are higher. You don't just risk my anger if you stay. You'll be arrested.'

Huntoon made a little retching sound and stepped back from the top step. Ashton seized his sleeve. 'Stand up, you rotten coward. I said stand up.'

She hurt him with her hand. But he steadied. Leaning over and looking down, she fairly spat, 'Let's hear the rest, brother dear.'

A cold shrug. 'Simple enough. I have delivered evidence to Mr. Seddon sufficient to hang you both. I'm referring to a coal bomb and the marked plan of the President's offices. I imagine the provost's men are on their way to the farm, where they'll find the remains of the rifles, Powell's personal belongings, and Israel Quincy's body. Your informant, the one who called himself Bellingham — he's dead, too, drowned in the river.'

'You did that?' Huntoon whispered.

Orry nodded. 'The one thing I have not yet done is implicate the two of you. I don't know why I should grant you the slightest immunity just because we're related, but I find myself doing it. Although not for long. You have one hour to remove yourselves from the city. If you don't, I'll go straight back to Seddon and charge you with treason and attempted assassination.'

'Lord God,' Homer said in a shaken voice. Orry had forgotten he was there.

Ashton shrieked at him: 'You damned nosy nigger, get out of here. Get out!' He did, taking the light with him.

Ashton's effort to smile through her rage was grotesque. 'Orry — you must appreciate — even to begin to prepare to leave will take far more time than —'

'One hour.' He pointed to a tall clock ticking away, its face a metal shimmer in the gloom. 'I'll be back at a quarter to five. You ought to hang, the lot of you — I include your scummy friend Powell, wherever he is. If any of you are in Richmond an hour from now, you will.'

He walked out.

When he rode back to Grace Street at half past four, the pre­dawn air was cold. He shivered again, starting to feel genuinely sick from the shocks and exertions of the preceding hours. He reined in before the brick house. The windows were dark. He tied the horse, climbed the stoop, tried the front door. Locked.

On the side terrace, he broke a pane of the French windows with the Colt muzzle, reached through, and let himself in. He roamed the rooms. Empty, every last one.

In their bedrooms — separate ones, he noted — clothes were strewn everywhere. Drawers hung open. Some had been left on the floor, partially emptied. Strangely, he felt no satisfaction, merely tiredness and melancholy as he struggled downstairs again, still favoring the twisted ankle.

What had possessed Ashton? What demons of ambition? He would never know. Somehow, he was thankful.

He started as the tall clock chimed a quarter to five.

By late the following afternoon, several versions of the assassination story were circulating in the offices around Capitol Square. About four, Seddon approached Orry's desk. Orry held a government memorandum and appeared to be reading it — an illusion, Seddon realized, taking note of Orry's blank stare.

He cleared his throat, smiled, and said, 'Orry, I have some splendid news. I have just talked with the President, who wants to present you with a written commendation. It's the equivalent of a decoration for gallantry in the field and will be accorded the same treatment. Published in at least one paper in your home state —'

Seddon faltered. On Orry's face there had appeared disbelief and disgust of such ferocity they alarmed the secretary. Avoiding Orry's eyes, he went on, less heartily, 'The commendation will also be entered on the permanent Roll of Honor maintained in the adjutant general's office.' Cloth and metal couldn't be spared for making decorations; the Roll of Honor was the Confederacy's substitute.

'Mr. Davis would like to award the commendation in his office tomorrow. May we arrange a suitable time?'

'I don't want his damned commendation. He drove my wife out of Richmond.'

Seddon swallowed. 'Do you mean to say, Colonel — you will — refuse the honor?'

'Yes. That will certainly cause another scandal, won't it? My wife and I have grown used to them.'

'Your bitterness is understandable, but —'

Orry interrupted, an uncharacteristic slyness in his eyes. 'I'll refuse it, that is, unless you and Mr. Davis also promise me an immediate transfer to General Pickett's staff. I'm tired of this office, this work, this pig-mire of a government —'

He swept all the papers from his desk with one slash of his arm. As the sheets fluttered down, he rose and walked out.

Heads swiveled. Clerks buzzed. Seddon's face lost its conciliatory softness. 'I am certain a transfer can be arranged,' he said loudly.

112

In the aftermath of the Eamon Randolph case, Jasper Dills began to worry about his stipend. He heard nothing of or from Elkanah Bent. He knew Baker had discharged Starkwether's son because of brutality in the Randolph matter. Beyond that, the record was blank.

Work taxed Dills to the utmost these days. Although some of his employers were Democrats, none wanted a Copperhead or peace candidate elected president; a shortened war meant diminished profits. Nevertheless, he decided he must make time to call on the chief of the special service bureau. He did so in late June. Baker's initial response was curt.

'I don't know what's happened to Dayton. Nor do I care. I followed instructions and dismissed him. Then I forgot about him.'