Chapter 33
Morning Fawn clasped her reticule and drew her feet in as far as she could beneath the cushioned seat of the landau carriage. Although the seat, the walls, even the roof cocooned her in royal-blue velvet, she would have rather traveled in an oxcart than sit across from Nick Moyer.
She trained her gaze on the glass window that encompassed the upper half of the carriage door. His silent stare had bored into her without relief for over an hour. She could have ridden all the way from Sweet Briar to the ball with her supposed family, but that was more than she could stomach.
The lace on her burgundy taffeta gown scratched against her lower arms and her collarbone. She’d never been to a ball. But all of the finery in the world couldn’t compare to the hour she’d spent dancing in Devon’s arms at Lucy’s wedding.
Right now, she’d give everything she had for a future where Devon was alive and free. She’d tucked the small bottle of laudanum that Flora had stolen from the medicine cabinet into the inner pocket of her gown—safer there than risking its discovery in her reticule.
Devon’s life was at stake. Morning Fawn couldn’t sit by and do nothing.
Her casting aside the agreement with LeBeau wouldn’t help Lucy, who was already at the slave trader’s lockup in Columbus, waiting to supposedly be sold as a house servant.
Morning Fawn would have to find another way to aid her.
If she complied with LeBeau’s plan, Devon would be dead, and Lucy would still be a slave.
If nothing else, she’d dose Nick with the laudanum and escape to the Alleyton house Devon told Lucy about.
Maybe the underground network could help her figure out a plan to rescue him.
Provided the members hadn’t been rounded up and arrested.
But it wasn’t only Nick she had to worry about.
He had his driver and a guard to help watch her.
Nick stirred as the rows of wedge tents outside Alleyton came into view. Campfires littered the barren hillside, more open now that the trees had been sacrificed for the sake of the soldiers’ warmth.
Nick tapped the window. “Those fellows would have had a little neck-tying party for our friend Reynolds the other night if Captain Starr hadn’t intervened.”
“What do you mean?” Morning Fawn twisted the beaded fringes on her reticule.
Nick settled back against the cushions. “Those soldiers and many like them will go barefoot and cold the rest of the winter because of Reynolds. Hardworking men putting their lives on the line for Texas. The good citizens of Colorado County agree. I wouldn’t be surprised if a mob showed up on the road to San Antonio to cut his trip short. ”
“San Antonio? What are you talking about?”
“Your uncle didn’t mention that they’re moving him tomorrow? The Confederate authorities want to make an example out of Reynolds. Hold an elaborate trial before they get on with the hanging. The only question is whether he’ll make it there with his heart still beating.”
Her chest tightened like a vise had just clamped its teeth into her ribs. “Surely, the army wouldn’t allow that to happen.”
Nick shrugged. “Some members of the military would prefer to not waste time and money on a trial. A rope around the branch of a big cottonwood along the way would serve the purpose just fine.” He stroked his mustache.
“Personally, I like the idea of a spectacle and the total humiliation of the man in front of the citizenry of Texas, but then a lynch mob asks fewer questions.”
“Questions about what?”
“About your role. About your uncle. About me.”
“I’d be willing to spend the rest of my life in jail if it’d save Devon.”
“Very noble of you.” He rolled his eyes. “But it wouldn’t do him a bit of good.”
Her heart dropped to her feet. Devon wouldn’t make it to San Antonio.
Her escaping and finding her way to the hideout house wouldn’t be enough.
Not unless they could organize a plan and men overnight.
Enough men to take on a military escort?
In the middle of Nick and her uncle scouring the area for her.
Dear God, help me. This cannot be how it ends.
A ferryman stood at the edge of her vision talking to the carriage driver. The gurgle of the Colorado River filled the gaps as the driver clicked the reins and walked the team of four onto the ferry.
Nick fished a flask out of his fine wool frock coat pocket. “You know how Reynolds got captured, don’t you?”
“By you.” She folded her arms, but there wasn’t enough steel in her to hide the tremor in her voice.
He took a swig and licked his lips. “I shot him in the arm, but he might have gotten away if it wasn’t for the Schramm girl.”
“Frieda?” She sat straight up.
The carriage jerked as the ferry started across the river, tugged by the ropes.
“He let himself get caught to save her.”
Her lungs constricted. “You’re lying. She wasn’t anywhere near there.”
“On the contrary, she was waiting at the river with a canoe. I’d shot him, but he’d run on. Probably would have made it if the fair maiden hadn’t shown up and offered him a ride. He hopped in ready to paddle away with her—only, his stopping momentarily to greet her gave me time.”
Acid rose in her throat.
His eyes sparkled. “I fired. Ready to put a bullet in one or both of them. He stood up, acting like he was going to surrender, then flipped the canoe. He knew I’d have to choose who to go after.
Of course, I followed him. Beat him to a pulp and dragged his sorry carcass off to jail.
Frieda Schramm got away. I could have killed Reynolds right then and there—miserable worm of a man he is—only, I figured that’d be too easy. ”
Devon had sacrificed himself to save Frieda?
After he’d promised Frieda wouldn’t be there.
That he wouldn’t allow Frieda or Morning Fawn to be part of the attack.
What if he’d said that because he thought Morning Fawn was incompetent, that she’d mess up or get in the way? She sunk back against the cushions.
“You’re lying.” She strangled the flimsy reticule in her grip.
Nick tugged his watch from its pocket. “Ask him yourself.”
“What do you mean?”
“I figured since it’s the last time either of us will see the man, we’d stop for a little visit. I think it’s only proper we let him know you’ll be well provided for, that he needn’t worry about you as he heads to San Antonio.”
“You want to gloat.”
“Reynolds has been a worthy opponent. No harm in saying ‘good game.’”
“‘Good game?’” She almost came off her seat. “The man is on his way to his death.”
“He knew the consequences if he got caught. He made his decision. Obviously, his mission and the German girl meant more to him than any romance he had with you. And of course, he made the poor decision of having her be part of his squad instead of you, the more capable actress.”
She closed her eyes and pressed her hands to her stomach, lest she throw up. Had Devon lied to her? Or was the addition of Frieda a last-minute decision? One that could still cost him his life.
The ferry docked, and the carriage rolled off onto dry land.
She would see the layout of the jail, and she’d see Devon. It was more than she could have asked for. But what if it wasn’t enough?
What if he’d betrayed her with Frieda?
Lamplight from the streets filtered into Devon’s cell through the bars on the window.
He shivered and pulled his blanket around him like a cape.
Carriages and buggies had rolled past for the last hour.
The gala at Robson’s Castle had been delayed, not canceled, as if the attack never happened, as if Devon’s mission had meant nothing.
The iron shackle chafed against his ankle as he sat up.
He rubbed his fingers over his eyes, no longer swollen.
His bruises had receded beneath the layer of dirt that covered him.
A bath wasn’t a luxury granted by his jailors.
He was thankful if he received two or three cups of water a day and a meager meal of watery broth and weevil-laden hardtack.
Vermin were available in plentiful supply.
The soreness in his hip had settled down to a dull ache whenever he moved his right leg, but he couldn’t bend his left arm without gritting his teeth. It throbbed throughout his waking hours and restless nights.
Tomorrow he’d be on the road to San Antonio. Would that give Jeremy an opportunity to strike, provided he could gather enough troops in the limited amount of time? Or perhaps the German League could muster a contingent? Far-flung hopes.
He needed to be ready to attempt escape at the slightest opportunity.
It’d be better to end up with a bullet in his back than face the gallows.
He could try the excuse Morning Fawn pulled on the way to the fort after her kidnapping, her “I need to go behind the bushes” maneuver.
It’d almost worked. She’d managed to knock out the dumb kid who should have been at home on his ranch instead of hiring on as a guard.
Morning Fawn. His heart clenched.
Footsteps trudged up the stairs, followed by lighter ones. Devon stiffened. What now?
Keys clanked. The outer door’s lock turned over in the tumbler. Devon rose and dropped his blanket. Best face whatever was coming on his feet. The potbellied jailer swung a lantern and stepped to the side.
Devon blinked in the light.
Another lantern and another man. Moyer. Dressed in his finest as if he’d stopped by on the way to the ball. Someone moved from behind, also dressed for the gala. Burgundy gown, white lace, and a dark-green cape.
Morning Fawn. Devon’s knees wobbled. His breath left him. He sputtered out a cough.
Her hair was drawn back from her face in a mass of waves and curls. A tiara encircled the crown of her head. Emerald earrings swung from her ears, a perfect match to the necklace which adorned her neck.
Moyer strutted forth. “I promised to bring my betrothed to say goodbye.”