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

She’d been in a battle, faced Grant, gone into Castle Thunder, and run through the burning streets of Richmond. Any one of those experiences she’d prefer to face rather than the danger she now faced with mouth dry and heart pounding. There was so much at stake. If she were caught, all three of them might end up incarcerated. Then it would be up to David to blast his way inside to rescue Jack. She wiped her palms on her wool trousers, second-guessing her decision.

Braham took her hand, squeezing it lightly. “Don’t forget to breathe, lass. Focus on why ye’re here. If ye feel faint, bite yer tongue or pinch yer arm. We’ll only be there a short time. I’ve got to represent Jack. If I’m worrying about ye, I can’t give him my full attention. If ye don’t think ye can handle it, the driver will take ye home.”

She squeezed his hand in return. “You always know when I need a word of encouragement. I don’t know how you know, but you do.”

“I see it in yer eyes.”

“I didn’t know my anxiety showed.”

“Only to me,” he said.

Braham sat back in his seat and stared out the window, tugging on his chin thoughtfully. The corner of Cullen’s mouth tucked in, a small, secret expression indicating he knew more than he was willing to say. She had seen a similar look dozens of times over the last several days. Once Jack was out of prison, she would demand an explanation. Pressing Cullen now for one was pointless. During the hours they’d worked together, she’d learned he was as stubborn as Braham.

Their driver halted behind a long line of carriages near the gate. They alit and followed the crowd toward the entrance. Water surrounded the prison on three sides, making it one of the most secure and heavily guarded places in Washington. You could walk up the White House stairs and knock on the president’s office door, but you couldn’t get near this courtroom without a pass. Braham showed his pass, and they were allowed inside. They made their way across the entrance courtyard toward the cell block, the largest of three buildings inside the walled prison.

She had the floor plan memorized. She knew the layout and position of the newly constructed courtroom in the northeast corner of the third floor, and where on the raised platform Jack would be sitting.

David had a three-dimensional map of Jack’s cell on the second floor, and another one of the path from his cell to the courtroom. He knew how long it would take to scale the outer wall of the prison under cover of darkness, cross the yard to the cell block, climb the wall of Jack’s building, infiltrate the cell, and disappear with him. Just thinking about it made her shudder.

When she saw the crowds and squads of armed soldiers, the hair on her neck prickled at the palpable, almost physical expectation of vengeance swirling sickeningly in the air.

Cullen whispered, “Keep yer eyes…”

“On the prize,” she answered under her breath.

They entered the building to find General Grant arguing with a young private, who was looking cornered but bravely telling him, “Sir, new gas lines were installed in the courtroom. You can’t take your stogie upstairs.”

Grant was a bit taken aback and gave the young soldier a hard look, then said, “You’re following orders, and I commend you for it.” Grant turned toward the stairs, still holding his burning cigar, and came face-to-face with Braham. “Congratulations on your promotion, Colonel. Well deserved. I suppose you’re here to testify about what happened to Secretary Seward.”

“I’ve been called to testify, sir, but I’m here to represent Jack Mallory.”

The general shook his head. His expression was kind but serious, and there was no lack of conviction in his tone. “You’re making a mistake, Colonel. Your career in the military will be tarnished.”

“So I was told by Secretary Stanton, but my client is innocent, and I intend to prove it.”

Grant took one last puff on his cigar before extinguishing it in a silver-hinged ashtray sitting on a table next to the stairs. “Is your lofty goal worth your reputation?”

“It’s worth my life, sir.” Braham’s voice didn’t sharpen, but it resonated with strong commitment.

“I’ve never known you to be wrong about anything, Colonel. I pray this one mistake doesn’t haunt you for the rest of your life.” Grant nodded and preceded them up the stairs.

A hot numbness swept over her when she gazed into Braham’s eyes. What she saw there almost broke her heart, and she had to look away, fidgeting with the clasp on the leather briefcase. Cullen nudged Braham in the arm, and whistled a haunting melody from Bach or Mozart or Beethoven or one of the other classical composers she couldn’t keep straight. Braham shook his head wordlessly.

Bootheels and spurs thumped and chimed on the crowded stairs and sabers clanged as everyone climbed to the third floor. Braham led the way into the whitewashed courtroom, which was already packed with spectators lining the west side of the room. He rounded up three chairs and squeezed them in at the defense table, where several other lawyers had already claimed seats. Nodding, he acknowledged them but didn’t make introductions. Charlotte sat between Braham and Cullen, holding tightly to the briefcase in her lap. It was creepy being there. There were a few lawyers on one side and the whole United States on the other.

She glanced around the room, taking in the details. Later, Jack would want to know her first impressions.

The defense table was in front of a raised platform edged by a wood railing. The platform was constructed to accommodate eight prisoners and seven guards. Mary Surratt and her attorney sat at a separate table next to the defense lawyers. Additionally, there were two long tables. One was for the press. The other, a green-baized-covered table, was on the east side of the room with a clear view of the witness stand and the raised platform. In