These Honored Dead (A Lincoln and Speed Mystery #1) - Jonathan F. Putnam Page 0,59

drunken slumber.

CHAPTER 22

I tossed and turned all night, but I awoke before dawn with crystalline clarity of thought. I had to warn Rebecca. I had to get her out of harm’s way. And if that meant helping her flee from Prickett’s clutches, even at great risk to myself, so be it.

I left our bed, careful not to wake Lincoln, dressed silently, and went to van Hoff’s yard to saddle up Hickory. The horse was surprised to see me at that hour but eager for the early morning exercise, and we were out on the prairie just as the sun edged over the horizon. I took an indirect route out of town, and I thought I’d been successful at avoiding witnesses to my departure. If I was about to help Rebecca become a fugitive, I wanted to make it as difficult as possible for the sheriff and Prickett to reconstruct our actions.

My plan was only half formed, because much depended on Rebecca. She was, as I knew better than anyone, a proud, independent woman who would not readily take suggestion, to say nothing of direction. She would be reluctant to abandon her business. But I was hopeful that when presented with the stark reality of the impending arrival of the sheriff and his manacles, she would see there was no course available to her other than flight.

I would help her get to the great Illinois River, two days’ ride to the west. From there, she could board a steamer or hitch onto a flatboat and head downriver. I’d arrange for her to obtain a purse full of gold coins from my father’s agent in St. Louis. And at that point, the entire length of the Mississippi River would be open to her. I didn’t know where she’d go or what she’d do, but I had no doubt there were several avenues of survival available to a woman of her abilities.

Of course, all this meant I’d never lay eyes on Rebecca again. But I felt no sadness at that prospect because I knew the only alternative was to witness her standing trial in Springfield for two horrendous crimes she did not commit. A trial, I realized full well, where my own name might be sullied during the attack on her character. And then—unless Prickett’s supreme self-confidence from last night was very much misplaced—to watch her swing from the gallows.

I wasn’t sure how much time we had to flee Menard before the sheriff arrived. In reality, I thought as Hickory and I rode through the stillness of the wakening prairie, I might have been better served by riding up to Menard in the moonlight, as soon as I’d overheard the sheriff’s conversation with Prickett. But riding through the prairie at night was treacherous. And I knew the sheriff, with his regular evening rounds, to be a late riser. He had no reason to suspect Rebecca would be alert to his design. In all likelihood, he would enjoy a full breakfast at his table before mounting his horse. Even so, I would have less than two hours to convince her of the necessity of my plan and get her on the trail.

I reckoned we were within a few miles of Menard when I spotted in the distance a large white mound, like a huge snowdrift, hard against a stand of dark timber. As the mound came into focus, it took the shape of an enormous tent, and the small forms darting in front of it resolved into soldiers in full military attire. I cursed my misfortune at the presence of witnesses.

I tried to hurry past the soldiers without interaction, but as Hickory and I began to circle around the tent, the closest soldier squinted at us through the risen sun and shouted out a greeting. He was a boy, surely not yet sixteen years of age, with the burnt features of a farmhand. He wore light blue trousers that were much too long and obscured his shoes; a long, darker blue coat with shiny buttons and a golden sash; and a tight-fitting cap, also in a shade of blue.

“What’s all this?” I shouted, waving with my straw hat at the several clusters of similarly clad soldiers who were loitering in front of the tent, which I now saw was large enough to have sheltered a couple dozen men.

“Colonel Hinkle has ordered a general muster today, for the field at Menard,” the boy replied, his voice cracking with adolescent excitement. “All the regiments of the