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

“If the rumors are true, the Union Army will be in Richmond in a matter of hours. Until they arrive, our lives hang precariously,” Elizabeth said. “Neighbors who have accused us of siding with the enemy may take this opportunity to burn us out. Thank you for taking the risk tonight.”

The woman touched Elizabeth’s arm affectionately. “Thank you for the money, but we would follow your orders without question or payment. We haven’t come this far to abandon the cause now.”

Elizabeth covered the woman’s hand with her own. “I haven’t suffered nearly what your family has, yet y’all soldier bravely on.”

The older man allowed a tinge of wryness to creep into his voice as he said, “Don’t despair, Elizabeth. You might still see the inside of Castle Thunder.”

Elizabeth chuckled, but it was a raw, nervous sound, without gaiety. “Then we must redouble our efforts. Over the next few days, Grant will need every tidbit of information we can gather. I’ve written to him letting him know a barrel of flour is now selling for over a thousand dollars, there is little food to be had, and our situation is deteriorating. But I also emphasized that we remain steadfast in our resolve to support the Union. We need to continue doing what we’ve been doing, but with greater caution than ever.”

The woman and two men sat back heavily in their seats. Fear tightened the wrinkles in their leathery faces. The threadbare cottage and empty pantry shelves spoke of how destitute this family had become. Charlotte was uneasy drinking their tea, knowing they were sacrificing what little bit they had to honor Elizabeth and their guests. At least now they had money for food, if there was any left to buy.

Charlotte turned to look at the younger of the two men. He had a rattling, persistent cough and had been lethargic all during their conversation. “How long have you had a cough?” she asked.

“A couple months, I reckon.”

“Can’t get him to wake up long enough to eat nothin’, neither,” the woman said.

Charlotte would have had to examine him to be certain, but she was confident he had either TB or bacterial pneumonia. Either disease would kill him soon. She choked the thought off abruptly, before frustration set in. She had no magic pills available to prolong his life.

Elizabeth explained to the young man. “I already told Doctor Mallory you were recently released from Castle Thunder after four months in solitary confinement.”

The man coughed again when he tried to speak. “I thought I’d die in their rat-infested hole.”

“We need to get a message to a prisoner. Is it possible?” Charlotte had a rush of guilt over reminding the man of a harrowing experience he’d rather forget.

“Depends,” he said. “The third story houses soldiers and partitioned cells for prisoners tried by court-martial. Dangerous and disruptive prisoners are on the same floor. The second story has the disloyal citizens and deserters. If you can get word to one of them, they’ll get the message to those in solitary confinement.”

The band of throbbing pain from the tension headache threatening Charlotte for several hours was getting worse. She pressed her fingers, warm from the teacup, between her brows. The heat soothed her chilled skin, but did little to relieve the pressure migrating toward the back of her head. She could recite the medical literature by rote: Episodic tension headaches are triggered by stressful situations. Thinking of Tylenol for her headache, she thought to ask, “Is there medical care in prison?”

“The warden sends prisoners to sick bay, where they’re examined by the surgeon. There’s no medicine for prisoners. If they’re bad off, the doctor removes them to the hospital. They did nothing for my fever and cough. Just left me layin’ on the straw.”

“How often does the doctor visit?” Charlotte asked.

“He comes and goes. Has his own schedule.”

“Does the warden visit the dungeon?”

“Ma’am, there ain’t no real dungeon.” His statement triggered another coughing fit, and he couldn’t catch his breath. His mother tried to get him to drink hot tea, but he pushed the cup away. When he could speak again he said, “Cells used for solitary are small, no windows. Warden does the interrogation. Favors a whip mostly. Prisoners in solitary for misbehavin’ won’t see the warden. Won’t see nobody.”

“I’ve only seen the interior of the side building housing the women,” Elizabeth added. “The prisoner we need to contact is probably in the front building.”

“Confederate Army deserters and political prisoners are in the front building,” the older man said. “It’s where my son was held.”

“I’ve seen the three buildings from the street,” Jack said. “But how are they connected? What’s the layout?”

“The front is fenced,” the father said. “A long brick wall connects the two smaller buildings to the center building, making an enclosed yard for exercise and latrines. Guard boxes line the top of the walls facing the yard. If you get into the yard, there’s nowhere to run.”

“If I impersonate a doctor, can I get to the cells used for solitary confinement?” Charlotte asked.

“Them guards would be suspicious if a different doc showed up,” the coughing man said. “Doc never goes to the dungeon. If your man’s there, he’ll be staying put ’less he dies or the war ends.”

Elizabeth set her teacup on the china saucer she held delicately in her palm with her thumb resting on the rim. “The war is going to end within days, and my sources tell me the prisoners will be evacuated tomorrow night.”

“If it’s true, the guards will be distracted and might not question a different surgeon.”

The coughing man wrapped his fingers around a coffee cup and tapped the china. His eyes seemed to turn inward to a scene playing out in his tormented mind. “Prisoners have ways to talk to each other. You get a message to a prisoner, it’ll find its way through the prison.”

“Even to the prisoners in solitary confinement?” Charlotte asked.

“When all you got to do