She hadn’t expected Jacob to be hurt, and she knew her mother would survive, but she had practiced weeping for Isaac, so she got through it and all the people told her that she was a brave girl.
But she was just doing what she had practiced.
How would she find Jacob? Would they hurt him or slave him or turn him into a savage or feed him to wolves? What would he be like if she got him back? Would he be different?
Would he have grown white hairs, too?
Chapter Twenty-Four
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Emmy and Pickett
Three days after she heard about the sighting of the long boats near Vancouver Island’s Campbell River, Emmy received an army change-order requisition in beef shipments. Beef was to be shipped to San Juan Island rather than to Bellingham.
From the transport agent, she learned that Captain George Pickett was under orders to move most of his command to San Juan to establish a fortification in anticipation of a dispute with the British over control of the region. She also learned that Pickett would stop for a fortnight in Port Townsend to complete filling his supplies and await reinforcements from Oregon.
She decided she had to act quickly before a distracting engagement between the Americans and the British ensued and she could not get assistance in retrieving Jacob. Accompanied by Sarah and Isaac’s brother, Winfield, Emmy booked a short passage to Port Townsend and requested a meeting with Pickett and the commanding officer of the fort.
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Winter was early, and when Emmy and her party arrived, snow had already covered the pine and cedar forest around the fort.
Pickett was surprised by Emmy’s visit and made himself immediately available, meeting Emmy and Winfield in the temporary office he had been given for his stay. He had only heard about the attack on Whidbey the week before and had struggled with a letter to Emmy, uncertain over the proper response.
He had written three versions, each proper but incomplete and empty of the feelings that confused him all the more in the face of this tragedy.
When Emmy arrived, he was still debating whether to send the last version, which offered to visit her at some point in the future to express his condolences in person. Would she accept that offer?
Pickett looked at Winfield, a bantam redhead with a tense, angry posture, and immediately dismissed him as a weak, unworthy, and annoying distraction. But when he saw Emmy, he noticed that her mourning black reinforced the power of her eyes, and he felt immediately overwhelmed by her again.
He tried to remember the terms of the arrangement he had made with her and recalled that it had been a hopeless negotiation for him from the start. He didn’t remember a whit of it, so taken with her as he had been, and when he had inspected the Evers cattle with her, he had bumbled his way through the transaction, peeking at her in a way that made him feel like a schoolchild.
So, here she was again. And her earnest expression made him turn away, to hide the blushing he felt.
When he regained his composure, he looked up and saw Winfield glaring impatiently at him.
“Captain Pickett, thank you for receiving us,” Winfield began. “I have been told you know about what has happened to our family. We need your help. I want you to dispatch a contingent of soldiers, perhaps an expedition, to hunt down the brutal savages who kidnapped my nephew and killed my brother in the prime of his life, a man who contributed greatly to the safety and prosperity of so many in this region.”
Pickett listened but did not respond. Despite his habit of maintaining his imperturbability during heated discussions, he feared that his expression likely conveyed annoyance at Winfield’s irksome insistence. As he listened, he watched Emmy, hoping she wouldn’t notice his momentary loss of disciplined behavior. What would she need? What could he possibly do to help her?
Winfield, reading Pickett’s resistant expression, went on, tears welling up in his eyes, “Surely the military has some leeway in matters like this. This was not a common infraction or a random act of violence. This was a vicious attack—and this was my brother. He was a heroic man, and society is in debt to him and his memory. This was cold-blooded murder. It was an insult to the order that you are here to preserve, Captain. They decapitated him! We had to bury him in that condition. We have heard they have been parading his head all up the coast for the past two weeks. And who knows what has become of my nephew. We have modest means and do not have the wherewithal to establish rescue and retribution. But you do.”
Pickett calmly measured his response, “Mr. Evers, I am, of course, very sad about the tragic events that have befallen your family. I share your concern about the safety of our citizens. Unfortunately, I am under orders to quickly establish fortifications on San Juan and will be unable to provide any of our resources. Perhaps in the spring we can discuss this again.”
Winfield persisted. “You do not understand, Captain. This act, if it is allowed to go unpunished, will be seen as weakness on our part to citizens and heathens alike. That will, in turn, certainly provoke additional violence. The military has a chance to do something heroic and greatly symbolic. Acting now will convey a stern message to all the aborigines and reassure all loyal whites.”
Pickett simply shook his head and smiled. “You have my answer, Mr. Evers.”
Winfield could not contain himself. He stood up, his fists balled before him. “Captain, were I but a single man without family obligations, I would venture forth myself and take on these heathens. I would bring them to justice. This is a sad disappointment, and I shall bring this matter directly to Governor Stevens for help, to overturn your
