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

trying to restore order, Braham and his cohorts slipped out of line and mingled with the agitated throng. He nervously scanned the crowd for Jack. “Scatter,” he told the men. Then he paused, drawing a long breath which seemed to take forever to fill his battered body. “We’ll meet up at the Van Lew’s. Be careful.”

Good things are rare. They’re to be cherished, and freedom most of all. Even if someone put a gun to his brain and pulled the trigger right now, he’d had a chance to taste liberty once again, and it tasted sweet on his tongue.

A tap on Braham’s shoulder startled him, and he jerked, flinging his fists up quickly. “Jack.” Instead of throwing a punch, Braham’s squeezed his buddy’s shoulder. Then they embraced fiercely. “God, I’m glad to see ye.”

Jack gave Braham a wry smile, but his eyes remained sober. “You don’t look so good.”

Braham swept his fingers through his hair in a quick, cursory gesture. “I didn’t have time to bathe, sorry.”

Jack handed him the jacket and boots. “Put these on so you won’t look so bedraggled.”

Braham slipped on the jacket then shoved on a boot while hopping on one foot, then did the same with the other boot. Without socks, the leather rubbed his raw ankle, but nothing could be done about it right now.

“Give me yer hat. Most men in the crowd look as scraggly as I do, but they have on hats.”

Jack plopped the hat on top of Braham’s head. “You want my pants, too? Yours smell pretty ripe.”

Braham settled the slouch hat low over his forehead. “Stay upwind.”

Jack held out his hand, palm open. “Charlotte said to take these pills.”

Braham popped them into his mouth and swallowed. “Got any whisky?”

“Can’t you smell it? The city government ordered all the whisky destroyed. It was poured out into the street. The mob’s getting drunk.” Jack pulled a flask from his jacket pocket and handed it over.

Braham took a mouthful then spat it out. “Damn, it’s hot.” He looked at the flask as if it personally had betrayed him. “I can’t believe ye put coffee in here.”

“You don’t need whisky with pain pills and an empty stomach. You’d pass out on me before I got you back to the Van Lew’s.”

He lifted the flask to his mouth again, but drank cautiously. “I can’t go back there yet. There’s something I have to do. Ye go, though. I’ll meet ye later.” Braham pulled his chunk of cornbread out of his shirt and took a bite.

“What the devil are you eating? It’s got worms in it.”

Braham took another swig to wash down the bread. “Ye said I needed food in my stomach.”

“Elizabeth has food waiting for you. Eat something decent first, then go do whatever you have to do.”

“What time is it?”

Jack checked the time on his pocket watch. “Ten thirty.”

Braham took more bites of cornbread, and finished the coffee in the flask before handing it back to Jack. “There’s not much time. I’ve got to go.”

Jack grabbed his arm. “Uh, I don’t think so. If I don’t come back with you, Charlotte will kill me. Either you’re going with me, or I’m going with you.”

“Come on, then.” Braham took off at a fast walk down Cary Street, weaving in and out of the crowd with Jack all but stepping on his heels. In a low, gravelly voice, Braham said, “The train carrying Jeff Davis and the Confederacy’s gold leaves in thirty minutes. I intend to stop it. I don’t care about Davis, but I have orders to capture the gold.”

“What? Without weapons and backup? Are you crazy?”

Braham stopped and looked Jack in the eye. “Go home. Ye’re not part of this fight.”

The statement brought a little shadow creeping in on the edge of Jack’s jaw and the muscle twitched. “Maybe not, but I’m not leaving you alone. Whatever you have planned can’t be worse than Charlotte’s ire if I go back without you.”

Braham chuckled at the image, but it was raw and shaky.

“The major’s not alone,” a familiar voice said.

Braham jerked his head. “Gaylord. Good to see ye.” He slapped his friend on the shoulder. “Hope ye’ve kept an eye on things.”

He nodded and fell silent as a group of men marched past them, rifles slung over their shoulders. “I followed Davis to the depot. He’s sitting in the railroad president’s office with Secretary of War Breckinridge.”

Braham stared off into the distance, his eyes unfocused. A ripple of tension went through him. “What are they waiting for, then?”

“He’s waiting until the very last minute, hoping to hear better news from Lee so he won’t have to leave town,” Jack said.

“The cabinet members are already on board with what’s left of the treasury,” Gaylord said.

Braham straightened quickly. His mission had been scattered into the wind like a dandelion, leaving only a bare stem of impossibility, but the wind had changed. He had been spoiling for a fight. Now here it was. “How well is the train guarded?”

“Half of a small regiment, but most of them are busy keeping people who don’t have passes from the secretary of war away from the trains.”

Braham raised his eyebrows with a questioning look. “Tell me ye’ve got a couple of those passes in yer pocket.”

Gaylord held out empty hands. “I tried.”

Braham pursed his lips tightly, contemplating his next move. “We need explosives.”

“The arsenal will have blasting powder, but we’ll run out of time,” Gaylord said.

Braham took off in another fast walk. “Then we’ll blow the bridge.”

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” Jack sputtered. “You couldn’t even stand up this afternoon, and now you’re running down the street to go blow up a bridge.”

A fist came out of nowhere and crashed into Braham’s chin. He landed hard on his butt. He stared at Jack, shaking himself hard. “What the hell?”

Jack put his fists on his hips and planted his feet. “Because you’re acting crazy. Tell him, Gaylord. You can’t go blow up a bridge. You don’t have time. You don’t have