C. C. Phillips
C. C. Phillips
From his perch astride the young gelding, Diamond ran an eye over the row of vehicles for hire. At the far end, a sorrel mare, in harness, was being backed into the shaves of a green, open top buggy. Preston stood in the stirrups; it had white wheels. His pulse quickened. The man handling the horse was not Captain Wiley, but Preston guessed he was a stable hand. Shifting Rascal to a less conspicuous vantage point, Preston studied the area. There were many people moving about on the thoroughfare that ran perpendicular to the side street where he and Rascal now stood. Holding the gelding and his patience in check, Diamond waited. The stable hand now had the mare hitched to the buggy and proceeded to lead her onto the street. At that moment, a man with an awkward gait shuffled into view. It was Captain Wiley and he now took the street toward Preston and the stable boy.
Diamond slipped off his mount and led him away. He ducked into a short alley, tied the horse and returned to peer round the edge of a building. Wiley handed something over ?Preston guessed it was money for the rig? and climbed into the buggy. Preston saw him reach for the whip but did not wait to see it strike. He ran back, freed his horse and swung into the saddle. Rascal reared up on hind legs then bolted down the alley in pursuit of the disappearing buggy. The stable boy dodged aside and cursed as the pair thundered by.
The avenue was far too busy for a fast pace and by the time Preston reached the thoroughfare, Wiley had already reined in and was adjusting to the flow of the equine traffic. In this congestion, the light rig could not have outrun a man on horseback. Diamond slowed the gelding and followed the buggy at varying distances.
A fellow will imagine a thousand ways that the hunt will go, but when you are in the midst, nothing imagined resembles reality. Preston sat rigid in the saddle, his features locked in grim determination, like a frown on a portrait. He reached inside his coat and loosened the Colt. His mind was clear, his hands were steady.
Unaware of the rider behind him, Wiley proceeded in the direction of the Capitol. Where would he go? Where and how should Preston intercept him? Adam Forsythe had agreed to fetch Rebecca if he located the bluecoat; Preston Diamond was not going to allow the traitor out of his sight.
Preston realized he couldn't just ride up to the buggy and shoot Wiley in the head. He had pictured himself doing that so many times, but now, something inside him argued against such an act. Unzer and Engels had tried to impress upon Adam that, if he were taken alive, Wiley might be 'persuaded' to confess and name his associates in the conspiracy. The officers had also reminded Forsythe, in the eyes of the law, killing Wiley would be murder.
Where the knife edge met the whetstone, Wiley's death was all that mattered to the orphaned son of Cutler Diamond.
The buggy turned left off the avenue and proceeded down a quieter street. Preston reined in behind a slow moving cart heaped with feed sacks. He could see over the load and kept a steady watch on his quarry. Wiley's path had led them back into familiar territory; Preston recognized General Grant's house. Was Captain Wiley headed for Chester Bateman's place? No, they had already passed by that section. Surely, the officer must be near his destination now; he didn't have much room before running up against the Patowmack River. After crossing two more streets, the pursued vehicle took another turn to the left. At that moment, the feed cart he had been using for a screen, abruptly veered to the right. Preston was left in the middle of the street, in plain view. The buggy disappeared behind a house on the corner. Diamond cocked his head, there was no crack of a whip or clatter of wheels and running hooves; he had not been detected.
The alley that Everett Wiley had taken ran behind the Unzer home. Panic seized Preston. Maybe the traitor had come to finish someone else's work? Maybe he was here to murder Colonel Unzer!
Preston could have stepped out of the saddle, hitched his horse and pursued his victim on foot, but he did not want to be separated from Rascal in case Wiley grew suspicious and escaped in the buggy. He viewed the alley in his mind's eye: The stable where the Unzers kept their greys was half way down the alley; it was nearer this end than the Colonel's residence. Preston decided to ride as far as the stable.
It took precious minutes to thread his way down the back lane. He was able to use back yards and trees to hide his approach. By craning his neck, he could see the right side of the buggy parked just beyond the stable. Captain Wiley must be within a house or two of the Unzers. His destination was obvious to Preston.
Diamond swung out of the saddle, drew the revolver from inside his coat and eased ahead. The greys in the barn may have sensed their comrade, for one of them whickered softly. The mare hitched to the buggy answered, but Rascal, with Preston's hand over his nose, said nothing. After tying a loose knot to hitch his horse to a tree, Preston stepped round to the front of the stable and came up behind the buggy. Wiley was not in sight. Diamond took one extra moment to find a broken limb and shove it between the spokes of the buggy wheel, then crawled through a gap in the trees and reappeared in Rebecca's garden.
Still no Captain Wiley, but the back door of the cottage stood ajar. Hoping he wasn't seen through a bedroom window, Preston launched himself across the yard and squeezed tight to the wall beside the doorway. He peeked in; saw nothing. He listened; heard nothing. Where was Mrs. Unzer? Was the Colonel asleep or… or was Preston too late?
A faint scraping sound reached his ears. It came again. Wiley's shuffling steps inside the house! A more solid footstep preceded the opening and closing of the front door. Someone had entered the house from the street side. Preston heard and recognized the rhythm of Rebecca's steps; she was in the kitchen. Where was Wiley? Diamond cocked the revolver and crossed into the parlour. Wiley was pressed against the opposite wall near the open archway that separated kitchen and parlour. He held a knife above his head, and, at that moment, Mrs. Unzer stepped into the room.
The knife plunged downward.
The Colt bucked in Preston's hand.
The blade fell from useless fingers as Captain Wiley was slammed into the wall then slithered to the floor leaving a trail of blood down the door jamb.
Rebecca screamed.
Colonel Unzer bellowed from the bedroom.
Smoke and the smell of burned powder filtered through the parlour.
Wiley lay writhing on the floor, his left hand clutching a wounded right arm; blood pulsed between his fingers. Preston's ears were ringing from the blast as he stepped across the room and pressed the gun barrel against Wiley's forehead. The injured man stopped groaning and turned fear filled eyes on his captor, but the fear instantly turned to venomous hatred as he recognized the burning blue eyes. “Diamond.” He spat the word like someone expecting sugar but tasting salt.
Preston eared back the hammer. In a flat, expressionless voice, he said, “Go to Hell, you murdering traitor.”
A hand touched Preston's shoulder. Rebecca said, “No, Adam.”
The colonel bellowed again from the bedroom.
Mrs. Unzer said, “We're all right, James, I'll be there in a moment.” To Preston, she said, “Please, don't kill him like this, Adam. It's murder.”
Preston stepped back but did not ease up the hammer on the revolver. He kicked the knife out of reach and said to Rebecca, “Take his gun, check him for more weapons.”
To Wiley, he said, “If you make a move, I'll shoot the other arm.”
The bluecoat started a retort but Preston said, “And if you open your mouth, I'll kick your teeth down your throat.”
Brigadier General Engels was in a closed conference at the Capitol when the doors burst open and Colonel Unzer's wife marched into the room with two security people tugging at her arms. Now the general, accompanied by three officers, was hustling to keep up as Rebecca led them out onto the grounds on the east side. Ahead of them, a crowd had gathered around a green buggy drawn by a sorrel mare. There were two people aboard the open top vehicle; one, a bluecoat captain, cringed in the box behind the seat; the other, a grim young man with dark hair, was kneeling on the seat with a cocked Colt pointed at the soldier's head. None of the onlookers were giving odds that the youth would not pull the trigger.
Engels asked no questions; he shouted orders. “Take that man to the guardhouse. See that he has medical attention. If for any reason he escapes, I'll have you men stripped of rank and publicly whipped.”
The arresting officers commandeered the horse and buggy. Watching them leave, Preston felt no relief. This is not the end.
The first night of Captain Wiley's incarceration, an attempt was made on his life. One guard was killed and another wounded. The invader(s) escaped. Wiley was moved to a more secure area. Brigadier General Engels visited the Unzers and talked for a long while with the colonel and Adam. He reported that the Capitol had received word Lieutenant General Grant was making headway against the Confederate force in Richmond. The loss of lives on both sides had been devastating and the siege had dragged on months longer than anticipated, but General Lee was losing ground; a Northern victory was a certainty; the war would soon be over.
Changing the topic, Engels said,“There are few secrets in the army. We spread the story that Wiley was being held under a charge of rape, however, his allies are not to be fooled so easily. They have many ears throughout the Northern forces, especially here in Washington. They now know that we know there is a conspiracy and they cannot afford to let Wiley talk.”
Unzer asked, “Are their fears founded? Have you been able to pry anything out of him?”
“So far, Captain Wiley has not been cooperative. He has an attorney, one Chester Bateman; apparently, among Bateman's other enterprises, he has an interest in law as well. We already suspected Bateman, because his name was on that message Adam brought to us. Anyway, Wiley isn't giving out any information and, with the lawyer he has, we can't make any deals.”
Preston listened attentively but offered no comment. He wondered what kind of “deals” General Engels had in mind. If Wiley received anything less than a noose around his neck it would not be good enough.
“We are forcing an early trial. Maybe our people can make Wiley confess on the stand. You, Adam, will be a key witness for our side. Your story alone will ensure a guilty verdict for Wiley. If he is condemned to death, he may confess in hopes of avoiding the hangman.”
As he was taking his leave, Engels made another announcement. “The word is out that Colonel Cutler Diamond's son survived the raid. We were cautious to the extreme, but it is not a secret any longer.”
Preston said, “Captain Wiley saw me at the army hospital. He recognized me, or, he thought I was my father. He knew, or must have been quite certain, that I was not dead. That is why he sent those two bluecoats to our farm.”
“Well, they aren't talking,” Unzer said, “and I would not have thought Wiley would admit to anyone that he foiled the job.”
“Maybe the captain somehow found out that I was here, too. Maybe it was me, not you, Colonel Unzer, that he was hunting?”
Engels said, “Well, Wiley must have told someone… unless there is another person or persons who knew Adam had survived. In any case, Adam, you had best be keeping a wary eye. The conspirators will want you dead.”
The echo of the Brigadier General's footsteps on the porch had not faded before Rebecca Unzer vented her opinion on Colonel Unzer. “I wasn't eavesdropping, but I heard what that sap had to say about Adam keeping a wary eye. How can Engels tell us that someone wants Adam dead and then walk out of here as pleasantly as though he had just refused a second helping of pie? If our Adam is the key in sending Wiley to the gallows, why isn't the army here to protect him?”
Unzer slumped in his pillows. Though they never had any children, he said, “I don't know, Mother. It seems that we are all targets.”
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