The physically demanding horseback trip from City Point had taken them across rivers, over rugged terrain, and through forested regions. Since both armies patrolled the area, they had maintained silence throughout the twenty-five mile trek. The possibility of ambush at every blind bend kept her braced for an attack. By the end of the journey her fear was locked in her shoulders and neck, and she winced when she twisted to stretch the tight band of knotted, strained muscles.
“Who lives here?” she asked.
Gaylord threw his saddlebags over his shoulder. “No one now.” He uncinched the saddle. “We’re leaving the horses here. They’ll be confiscated if we ride them into the city.”
“What’s to stop someone from stealing them from an abandoned farm?”
“Soon as we leave, they’ll be taken to a safe pasture.”
Leaves crunched underfoot while they hiked in the shelter of the tree line. As hot as the wool uniform often was, tonight she was thankful for the warmth it provided and that Gaylord allowed her to wear it.
Gaylord followed an invisible path. More than once, when she was convinced they’d reached an impenetrable thicket, an opening appeared. Not even breadcrumbs would help her find her way back. The arduous trek ended at a dirt road on the north side of Richmond.
“What now?” she asked.
“We wait.”
While they waited in the shadows, Charlotte leaned against a tree and closed her eyes. She had learned as a resident to grab sleep when she could, and she quickly dozed off.
Gaylord woke her, whispering her name. “Doctor Mallory. Wake up. Your contact is here.”
“Oh.” She got up, stretched, and yawned.
The carriage door swung open as if it had been kicked. If she had been nearby, it would have knocked her to the ground.
“Good luck,” Gaylord said before disappearing back into the trees.
The little man hadn’t been good company, but he was an excellent guide, and she had become comfortable traveling with him. Now the fear she’d held at bay during their day-long ride to Richmond came back in a rush.
She peered inside the carriage’s window. Moonlight barely illuminated the street, much less the inside of a carriage, but she was able to discern the shadowy outline of a man in there.
“Your patient doesn’t have much time. Please get in,” the man said.
Was she really expected to get into a dark carriage with a man she didn’t know? Yes, and hadn’t she spent the day traveling through Virginia with a man she didn’t know? She took a shaky breath to silence the warning bells clanging in her head. How many more hurdles would she have to jump before she could go home?
Reluctantly, she climbed inside and sat opposite a man with dark curly hair and muttonchops. He rapped the ceiling with a walking stick. The driver snapped the reins and drove down Broad Street.
“Have you met Doctor McCaw?” he asked.
“No. Although I’m familiar with the work he’s done at Chimborazo.” He and her six-times-great-grandfather were contemporaries but, thankfully, they had never met.
“We play chess regularly,” the man said.
Charlotte calmly rested steady hands on her thighs, but inside she was one big monster knot. “Your friendly game could yield valuable information for the underground. I’m sure Doctor McCaw hears soldiers discuss tactical options. Information the Union would find useful.”
The chess-playing spy leaned forward, lacing his fingers on the top of the cane. “I told my colleagues it was a mistake to trust you, but no one would listen.”
“You have nothing to fear from me. I’m on your side.”
He frowned, his dark eyes narrowed. “Pshaw. I know your family, Doctor Mallory, and there isn’t a Unionist among them. I pray for all our sakes you’re telling the truth.”
She hoped he didn’t ask how she was related, because she hadn’t had time to invent a satisfactory answer, and fumbling for one would only make him doubt her more.
“When we get to Chimborazo, I’ll go in to see McCaw. Major McCabe is in the ward closest to his office. My informant told me earlier today he wouldn’t survive the night. He might already be dead.”
“Then why am I going in there?”
“If McCabe has talked, we’re all in danger. I could be walking into a trap tonight. We need to know. Grant needs to know.”
“Why is he in Chimborazo and not in a prison hospital?”
“He was shot while trying to escape custody. It was the closest hospital.”
Which confirmed what Lincoln had told her.
The carriage drove along the road at the base of the camp then crossed the bridge at the back of the compound. A sentry came to the carriage door.
“Evening, Mr. Parker. Is it chess night?”
“I’ve come to beat McCaw again. Is he in his office?”
The sentry opened the door and glanced inside. Charlotte nodded. “Who you got with you?”
Parker pointed with his walking stick. “A surgeon from General Lee’s headquarters. Saved him a long walk from town.”
“Your lucky night, hey?” the sentry said. He closed the door and rapped on the side of the carriage. The driver continued up the hill toward the compound.
Her companion fixed her with a piercing look, and a hot numbness swept over her face. “We’re both playing a dangerous game. I pray you’re not here to entrap us.”
It was, indeed, the most dangerous game she’d ever played, and one not of her choosing. But even given the choice, she would never have taken such a risk.
The carriage stopped in front of Laughton House, now serving as headquarters, which included the offices of the surgeon-in-chief, the surgeons-in-charge, and other necessary offices of the post. Immediately to the south were the hospital wards.
Mr. Parker straightened a perfectly straight cravat. “Are you ready?”
She nodded. Her pulse, which had been beating quickly, had settled down to near normal. Under the circumstances, it was the
