The Sapphire Brooch Katherine Logan (best beach reads TXT) 📖

for Charlotte hope burned brighter with each extinguished torch. Slowly the grumbling crowd began to disperse and slink off into the night.

Charlotte and Elizabeth remained on the porch, holding hands and shaking.

“Holy shit. Oops, sorry.” Charlotte let out the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.

Elizabeth sighed with relief. “What you said aptly describes the situation.”

The women returned to the parlor and headed straight to the sideboard and the whisky. Each took a big gulp from her tumbler full of the highly aromatic spirit. Elizabeth carried her glass over to the sofa, where she leaned back and closed her eyes.

Charlotte sat next to her. She butted her glass against the crystal in Elizabeth’s hand and, with a slight twist of her wrist, the tumblers clinked. “You were amazing. There were a dozen men liquored up and ready to burn you out, and you valiantly faced them down. I wish I was half as courageous.”

“Don’t ever think you’re not, Doctor Mallory.”

Charlotte eyed her suspiciously. “I don’t think I ever mentioned I was a doctor.”

Elizabeth frowned and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Gaylord told me.”

Gaylord had always addressed Charlotte as Doctor Mallory, so it seemed logical he would use the title when referring to her. Now really curious, she asked, “What else did he say?”

“To believe you regardless of how outrageous you sounded.”

Charlotte lifted her glass to her lips, paused, and said, “Did he say why?”

Elizabeth shrugged. “He didn’t have to.”

“Why?”

“He reports directly to Grant.”

Charlotte’s mouth dropped. “Now I know how we got out of Washington so easily.”

“The president didn’t want to send you into harm’s way again, but he knew he couldn’t stop you. You were as safe as possible during your trip here.”

“Did Lincoln know I was a woman when he sent me to rescue Braham?”

“No. He didn’t discover who you were, or claimed to be, until after his meeting with the major.”

Now it was Charlotte’s turn to sit back and close her eyes, then they popped open and she sat up straight. “Grant orchestrated the last few days. He sent Jack and me to you, knowing you would help us rescue Braham. But why?”

“I got the impression the major still has a mission to complete.”

Charlotte jumped to her feet. “What mission?”

Elizabeth shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Charlotte stomped back and forth, thinking while she paced. “What mission could possibly be left? Richmond is being evacuated. The Union Cavalry will be here tomorrow. The city will be under the Union’s control. What’s left to do?”

She stopped and replayed the last few days. When Gaylord came to Braham’s house in Washington, he only told them Braham was working undercover. He didn’t mention any assignment. What work could Braham have been doing for Lincoln? Elizabeth kept Grant apprised of what was happening in the city. What else would be of interest?

A light flashed on in Charlotte’s brain with the intensity of a two-hundred-watt bulb. “The treasury…the Confederacy’s gold. When the government is evacuated, they’ll move the gold, and it will be vulnerable to an attack, especially by a person…” She stopped before saying out loud: who knew in advance when and where it would be moved. Her thought processes made another giant leap. Capturing the gold would benefit the Union’s reconstruction efforts greatly.

Charlotte smacked her fist into her palm. “I’ve got it. I know what Braham intends to do. He’s going after the gold.”

“But you said he could barely stand. How can he do anything?”

Charlotte gave a cynical laugh. “You’d be surprised at what Braham McCabe is capable of doing when he sets his mind to a task, and don’t forget Jack’s with him.”

Elizabeth sat rigid on the sofa, staring at her. “Will Jack help him?”

The mystery of what happened to the Confederate treasury had intrigued historians and treasure hunters since its disappearance the night of the evacuation. By all accounts, it was boxed for shipment, delivered to the Richmond & Danville Railroad Depot, and guarded by midshipmen of the Confederate naval academy. Solving the mystery, by preventing it from ever becoming one, would be too big a temptation for Jack to pass up.

“Absolutely.” Thinking aloud, Charlotte glanced at the clock on the mantel. “It’s almost ten thirty.” Davis’s train would leave at eleven. “If Davis is captured—or worse, killed—Lincoln will be blamed and the war could escalate.” She grabbed her shawl from the chair where she’d dropped it when they came back inside. “I’ve got to find them.”

Elizabeth followed Charlotte into the hallway. “You can’t leave. You promised Jack you’d stay here.”

“I promised before I realized they’d be doing something crazy.”

“You can’t be sure.”

“I know them, especially my impulsive brother, and it leads me to only one conclusion.” Charlotte flung open the door and dashed out of the house.

Elizabeth ran out on the porch and yelled, “Charlotte, come back.”

A steam whistle pierced the night air with its shrill cry. Nothing good could come from Braham’s attempt to capture the gold at the depot close to Mayo’s Bridge. He and Jack could get killed or captured themselves, and their lives were worth more than the gold.

Here was another frigging red-light moment. Was she going to sit still and wait, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel while the men she loved put their lives in danger? Going after them might be reckless, but as long as she stayed out of the way of the crazies and avoided areas of the city destined to catch fire later, she’d be safe. Right? She gave a sharp nod, answering her own question.

Her plan was simple. Find them, shake some sense into them, and hurry home before the city became a rioting inferno.

59

Richmond, Virginia, April 1, 1865

Braham dozed after he swallowed the pills Charlotte had given him. When he woke, the pain had lessened somewhat. With considerable effort, and keeping one shoulder close to the wall for balance and support, he rose to wobbly feet. On Charlotte’s one-to-ten-point pain scale, he was down to a six. His stomach, though, screamed ten. He