C. C. Phillips
C. C. Phillips
Diamond swore under his breath. He was afoot, Rascal was in the stable and the Colt revolver was in his room at the Unzer home. Cold fury grew as Preston watched the captain. Wiley trudged along with the aid of a cane. He shifted his hips, one side at a time, instead of taking strides. He reached the buggy and Preston could hear the groans from thirty yards away as the soldier struggled into the conveyance. Once seated, instead of flicking the lines or speaking to the horse, Wiley picked up a whip and lashed the animal across the rear. Preston gritted his teeth, but remained motionless, blending in with the tree trunk, as the buggy wheeled past.
Wiley turned at the end of the street, disappearing from view as the clatter of wheels faded. Preston turned his focus on the house. When, after an hour of vigilance, no one had emerged from the door or glanced out from either of the two curtained windows, Preston decided the place was now empty. Did Wiley live there? No, he had a horse and carriage parked out front. Perhaps there was a back door and Chester Bateman had gone out that way.
Diamond made his way back to his new home. Traffic was heavy on the side street and Preston saw a few people on foot filing toward Unzer's house. Several more were gathered in front of the cottage talking in a group. Had Colonel Unzer passed away? As Preston drew near he noticed that most of the people were smiling. Rebecca stood among them talking animatedly. Preston slipped past and dodged into the house. Voices came from the bedroom and Preston peeked through the doorway. Colonel Unzer saw him and said, “Ah, Adam, do come in for a moment. It seems that rumour of my death has reached the Capitol.”
On stepping through the door, he saw Brigadier General Engels seated on the chair that Mrs. Unzer had spent the night in. Engels gave no indication he had met Preston less than two hours earlier. A busy man, Preston mused.
After Unzer made the introductions, the general shook Diamond's hand. “Mr. Forsythe, I commend you on your bravery for I fear we really would have lost our James without your daring rescue.”
“Thank-you, sir.”
“Before he left for Richmond yesterday, I spoke with Lieutenant General Grant in strictest confidence. He told me about you, Mr. Forsythe, I know your true identity. I knew it when you delivered the message to me this morning. With the most heartfelt sorrow I extend my sympathy on the terrible loss of your father and mother. I assure you, we shall crush this traitorous abomination and bring severe justice to the perpetrators.”
Preston's jaw worked twice before he could get the words out. “Thank-you again, and I hope so, sir.”
Colonel Unzer said, “Adam, you have information we need. Did you deliver the note to Bateman?”
Before Preston could answer, Engels interrupted. “On the subject of notes,” he slid a hand inside his coat, “I have this letter from General Grant.”
He passed the envelope to Preston. It had Grant's seal and no one had tampered with it. The message, addressed to Adam Forsythe, contained instructions for Preston to cooperate with Brigadier General Engels: “…please repeat to Engels all the information you have given me and allow him access to your father's journals if he so desires. Your testimony will be the the proof we need to launch the investigation. And, Adam, I think you should also inform General Engels of those events you have neglected to tell me.” It was signed Ulysses S. Grant; Preston recognized the writing. Following the signature was further proof unlikely to be guessed: (Uncle Lyss).
Preston folded the note and put it in his pocket. He watched Engels closely as he said, “Uncle Lyss has asked me to help you with an investigation into reports of treason within the Union Army.”
Engels jerked his head. “Uncle Lyss? Lieutenant General Grant is your uncle?”
Diamond decided the note was not forged.
Returning to Colonel Unzer's question of whether the note had been delivered, Preston told the officers about seeing Captain Wiley at Bateman's house just minutes earlier. This information required a brief explanation as to where Wiley fit in. Both men agreed that the Captain must be found and subjected to military interrogation. Engels said Chester Bateman was a civilian and businessman of some import in DC. However, before the discussion went much further, Colonel Unzer's speech slowed and his words slurred; his head sank back on the pillows and he drifted off to sleep. Engels and Preston left the room, closing the door behind them.
Rebecca, having dispersed with the overhasty sympathy contingent, prepared tea while the lad and the general talked in the parlour.
Brigadier General Engels said, “I must hear your entire story, Adam. However, I should like you to repeat it in Colonel Unzer's presence. General Grant has warned me against including too many people in this investigation. Obviously Unzer is trustworthy, but at this time we do not know who else we can trust within our own army. Soldiers talk, often too much, so it may be some time before I can select a detail to pursue Captain Wiley. For the same reason, I cannot send orders to his superior, for Wiley may become suspicious and run off; undoubtedly he would inform his cohorts as well. I apologize to you, for I know you want immediate justice served upon that man.
Mrs. Unzer brought in the tea and a plate of cornbread but she did not stay. Preston could hear her in the kitchen as Engels sipped and read the notes that should have gone to Bateman and Corporal Peters. Engels had no inkling who or what the initials F, K and JWB stood for. Repeating the same reasoning for allowing Wiley to remain at large, he said Peters would not be ordered back to Washington either. He apologized, saying, “Until we can gather more information, our hands are tied.” Preston Diamond asked if Captain Wiley was reporting for duty. General Engels did not know, but surmised that the wounded man must be on medical leave.
To Preston, it seemed unbelievable that the powerful Northern Army, now standing on the edge of victory, could have their collective hands tied so securely that they could not move within their own jurisdiction. He thought of Wiley hobbling to the buggy, then senselessly whipping the horse; he saw Señora Diamond lying dead on the ground; he heard Cutler Diamond's last breath.
“Your hands might be tied, General Engels, but mine are not,” Preston said.
As Uncle Lyss had done, Engels warned Preston against hunting Wiley. “Besides the fact that you will surely be killed, Adam, taking the law into your own hands is breaking the law. Alone, you cannot win.”
Rebecca appeared in the doorway, hands on hips. “Brigadier General, Adam will not be alone. I will help him.”
Despite further protestations from the military man, Rebecca and Adam did not back down. Rebecca said, “You haven't heard his story, sir. I have only had pieces of it myself. But I know his pain and I've heard him in the night. If you were suffering like this young gentleman is right now, you could never walk in a man's shoes if you did nothing at all.”
The brigadier general left Unzer's house with a promise to expedite the investigation. Rebecca closed the door behind him, then turned to Adam. “Maybe I didn't have quite enough adventure yesterday. How about you?”
Preston went to his room and cleaned the Colt.
Rascal hadn't stretched his legs for awhile and he was being difficult as Preston guided him through the busy streets and avenues of Washington. The unfamiliar din and bustle kept the spirited gelding on edge and his rider had to keep a tight rein; even at that, the front shoes touched only lightly upon the road. Preston Diamond, or Adam Forsythe, had no destination, but he had a rudimentary plan. He would search this city from one end to the other and, if necessary, back again, until he found Captain Everett Wiley. And, while he searched, he would familiarize himself with every street, alley or dead end in the four quadrants. Preston had no illusions, the task ranked second only to finding the needle in the hay stack, but it was doing something, and, it was an outing for Rascal.
Diamond searched for an open top buggy with white wheels and a green box. A single sorrel mare had been between the shaves when Wiley had driven the buggy this morning. Unless the captain abused the horse beyond its endurance, chances were the mare would continue to pull that buggy. Horses, buggies and bluecoats were in abundance all over the city, however, if Preston could locate the particular combination he sought, the number of matches would be fewer.
Before starting out with Rascal, Preston had walked to Chester Bateman's residence, hoping, on the off chance, that Wiley had returned. Though he watched from the shadows for nearly an hour, no one visited and he saw no movement within. Diamond returned to the Unzer home and reported to Rebecca; they had agreed that Adam would keep her informed of his whereabouts. If he located Wiley, he was to come back for Mrs. Unzer. During Preston's absence, the colonel had awoken and a messenger had come to the door. The message was from Brigadier General Engels:
Captain Wiley has been granted temporary medical discharge from the Union Army. His current location is not known. Signed Brig. Gen. Freemont Engels.
Colonel Unzer knew Wiley and was able to provide additional personal information, some of which Preston already had: Wiley had no wife or family; he had been a soldier since graduating from West Point; he had fought in the Mexican American War; he had spent time in Fort Detroit and New York. Unzer did not know if Captain Wiley had ever been posted in the West.
Now, mounted on Rascal, Preston rode along Pennsylvania Avenue heading away from the Capitol. Being a bachelor and career soldier, it was unlikely the captain had a house of his own; he may be rooming with someone while on leave. With this in mind, Preston commenced his search in a residential area; more accurately, a shanty town. Poverty was everywhere; the neighbourhood reeked of disease and human waste. Despair hung in the air like damp smoke. Gaunt and sullen men turned their backs, hollow-eyed women, with rag clothed children clinging to them, stared vacantly as the young lad on the prancing horse rode past. Mostly black, some white, all were homeless and hungry.
Captain Wiley would not be here.
The next quadrant appeared more affluent, certainly less effluent. Houses were neater, streets less crowded, less filthy. There were alleyways behind the homes, a few houses had stables. Preston scoured the back streets in search of a green buggy with white wheels. He found twelve in total.
Diamond did not feel comfortable peering into private stables in search of a sorrel mare. But the notion occurred to him to investigate the livery barns and public stables. Probably Wiley had rented the buggy; he would not have had use for one when he was able to straddle a horse. The first barn he came to had a sign advertising equine accommodations and, for rent, saddle horses, draft horses, wagons, carts and carriages.
It took but a few minutes to check that the open topped buggy in question was not among the rentals. Preston checked two more livery stables before daylight failed him. He made his way to Pennsylvania Avenue and rode home.
The search resumed the next day. And the next.
Brigadier General Engels came by in the evenings to confer with Unzer. Between the wounded officer's moments of rest, Adam Forsythe delivered his story almost in its entirety. After hearing him out, neither Engels nor Unzer made mention that Preston should let things lie. They knew the youth would have to be enchained, imprisoned or dead in order to stop him.
On the fourth day, across the street from a livery barn, Preston found Wiley, the sorrel mare and the rig.
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