“I suppose you enjoyed that,” he smiles and glances down. His smile fades when he recognizes his brother’s bags.
“A little bit.” Savannah nods once, “It is done.” She can almost feel the shackles of her promise release and fall.
Eli runs a hand over the dirty canvas and remembers his brother. “You’ve carried these for a long time.”
“Yes, I have,” she replies hoarsely. “It’s yours now. Inside you will find Oliver’s images of the war. I kept a few images for myself, the rest is yours. To answer your question of why it took me three years to fulfill my promise, I had to fulfill my obligation to the Sisters and the past six months I’ve been developing the rest of his images.”
“I don’t understand, please sit by the fire and explain,” Eli suggests.
Savannah is surprised by his sudden kindness, but she does as he suggests. Eli carries the heavy bags to the table and places them on top.
“Oliver was with us for two days before he spoke. He watched me taking care of the patients, but it wasn’t until he saw one of my own tintypes that he lit up. I didn’t completely give up my photography. We shared a love of the process, the joy of capturing moments. My own pictures were of the war-torn cities. As we traveled to new camps, I would photograph barns, churches, bridges, homes, etc. Oliver loved them,” she smiles at Eli. “As his time grew short, he had me collect his bags and secured my promise to give them to you.”
Savannah leans forward and speaks in earnest. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner, but his images… weren’t easy to get through. You may think me weak, but I caution you to carefully choose the ones you let your mother see. Once they are seen, they can’t be unseen.”
Eli is shaken so shaken by her words he can’t speak. “Goodnight.” Savannah rushes from the room and returns to her room. After laying out her dress for the next day, she packs her things. Leaving a quick note for the family. She mentions the publisher and tells them to do what they want with Oliver’s legacy.
“I’m done, Oliver, I want to go home.” Savannah whispers, and dreams of war.
Chapter 23
Fred slept most of the day and then paid Dahlia to tell him where the dark-haired saloon girl lived, and to his delight, finds that she has a son. She caused him a lost day with that map, which tells him that she knows this family. He was going to ride out and burn the house and barns down, but this might be easier.
“Listen to Mrs. Milton, while I’m gone,” Kristin calls and hurries from the house for work the next morning.
Fred grins when Mrs. Milton falls asleep on the porch, while the child plays with his stick. “Easy pickings,” he mutters.
Kristin grabs the bag of sheets to be laundered and carries then down the servant’s entrance of the Becker Hotel. She uses the handle of an old broom to prop the door, allowing her to walk through easier.
Lucas loved his time at the Farm and is already begging to go back and see Chuck. “A piglet? Really?” She is chuckling and talking to herself when a shadow jumps out and grabs her forearm.
“Mrs. Taylor, you and I have business to talk about!”
Kristin fights hard, thinking of Lucas, she stomps on his foot and inhales to scream when he slaps her across the face, splitting her lip and sending her slamming into a wooden crate.
“Now,” Fred glares at her, “I’d hate for something to happen to that cute little boy of yours, are you sure you don’t want to reconsider?”
Kristin freezes, and her heart almost stops. “No! You won’t touch my son!”
“Easy now, he’s fine. In fact, why don’t we go see him right now.” Eli grabs her but the arm and drags her to her feet and starts walking fast, shoving a pistol into her side. “Don’t make me shoot you!”
“What do you want?”
“I need to know where Savannah Ward is, and you seem to be the only person that knows her.”
Kristin shakes her head, “I’ve only met her once. Give me my son, and I’ll tell you where she is.” At the back of the alley behind the building is a carriage and Fred shoves her towards it. “Get in!” he shouts.
Kristin stumbles and is thinking about running when she hears Lucas cry out for her. “Lucas!” she runs to the carriage and tears open the door. “No!” Lucas is tied up and sobbing. On the ground beside him is his stick that he loves. “It’s okay, Lucas, I need you to be brave for me, okay?” He nods.
“Get in, before someone comes out here,” Fred demands and shoves her from behind.
“You’re wasting time,” Kristin tries to say, but Fred grabs a handful of dark hair and jerks her head back.
“I plan on wasting a lot of time on you,” he laughs when she attempts to turn away from him.
“No!”
“Get in!” he shoves her forward, and she scrambles to Lucas. Kristin runs her hand over his body and pulls the gag from her son’s mouth. Blood stains the rag and rage nearly blinds her. With a trembling hand, she picks up the stick her son loves and turns to face him.
“Little brat tried to stab me with that stick!” Fred grumbles.
Lucas turns his face away from her to the wall and tries to curl into a ball. “All I want is the location, and you can both go free,” Fred promises. Kristin glances at the gun and stands up slowly.
“She will be at the train station this morning, that’s all I
