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Authors: Gilbert Morris

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Thad finished by saying, “So after I was arrested, they brought me here—and I haven’t talked to anyone about all this until just now.”

Duke didn’t move for a full minute, and Thad thought Harrison was asleep. Then he asked, not opening his eyes, “Is that all?”

“Yes, sir. It’s all I can think of.” He hesitated. “Aren’t you going to write anything down?” he asked.

Duke slowly opened his eyes, got to his feet, and replied, “No.” He stood there, an unimpressive figure, studying Thad. He walked to the door, knocked, and said over his shoulder, “I’ll be back tomorrow.” He left as soon as the guard opened the door—no backward look, no farewell.

Thad stood there, wondering if he had done the right thing; but it was done, and he thought,
I’m glad somehow that seedy-looking captain’s on my side.

Two hours later the door opened again, and Thad bounded to his feet as he saw Sky Winslow with Rebekah and Pet.

“Thad!” Rebekah rushed to him and put her arms around the boy just as if he were her own.

Thad’s eyes blurred, and he couldn’t say a word. When she stepped back, he saw that Pet’s eyes were red, and she pressed her handkerchief to her lips to keep from crying.

“Well, now, Thad,” Sky apologized, “I’m sorry we couldn’t come earlier—but we had to wait for permission.”

“It’s all right, Mr. Winslow. I—I’m glad you’re here.” He dropped his head and struggled to keep from crying. “And I thank you for sending Captain Duke to help me.”

Winslow shook his head with some doubt. “He’s a strange man, Thad. If you want another lawyer, I’ll find one.”

“No, sir. I’d like to have him.”

An awkward silence fell across the room, and Rebekah said, “I brought you some of the food you like.”

“The guard was going to search her,” Winslow chuckled. “Thought she might have a hacksaw or a file in her clothes.”

“The very idea!” Rebekah sputtered indignantly. “Search
me
—a respectable married woman!”

That broke the ice, and they all sat down; and while Thad ate some caramel cake, they talked about the case. Thad went over the whole story again—until he got to the part about Captain Whitfield Winslow coming to The Old Capitol.

“What’s the matter, Thad,” Pet asked, noticing his hesitancy.

“Well, I guess I’ve got to tell you.” Thad looked at all three of them. “You know how I was asking for the Winslow place when I first came to Richmond?”

“I’ve wondered about that,” Winslow replied gravely.

“I didn’t want to tell you—but the thing is, I’m—I’m a Winslow, too!”

“You’re what?”

Thad nodded and went on to tell how his mother had been a Winslow, and how he’d come to Belle Maison as a result of the captain’s tales about plantation life.

Overcome by the news, Pet squealed and threw herself into his arms, taking him completely off guard. “Why—we’re
cousins!

Sky stared at Thad’s red face over Pet’s shoulder, and then a smile broadened his lips. “If that doesn’t beat all. You sure
knocked the wind out of us. But why did you have to make such a mystery of it?”

“I just didn’t want you to think I was come to mooch off you—like a poor relation.”

“You can let go of him now, Pet,” Sky laughed. “Though he
is
what we call ‘a kissing cousin’ around here, so help yourself.”

“Papa!” Pet rebuked, her face red, but she stuck her tongue out and whirled to give Thad a peck on the cheek.

“I’ll have a kiss, too, Thad, if you don’t mind,” Rebekah smiled, and he kissed her awkwardly.

“No kisses, Thad,” Winslow commented with a grin. “Just welcome to the family!” Then he shook Thad’s hand, and as he drew back he said suddenly, “Why, we’ve got to get word to Captain Winslow’s son—what’s his name?”

“Lowell,” Thad said.

“That’ll be the thing to do—but, wait a minute . . . !”

“What’s wrong, dear?” Rebekah asked.

“It might not be so easy. The news is that after Banks got stomped by Jackson, most of McClellan’s army is on the way to reinforce him. If Captain Lowell Winslow is with them—and that’s a pretty safe bet!—it’s going to be hard to get word to him.”

“But—the court-martial will have to wait, won’t it, Papa?” Pet asked.

“Ordinarily, yes, but I think our troops are pulling out right away. They may rush the trial through just to get it over with. I’d better find the lawyer!”

He banged on the door, and as they left, Pet turned. “I’m glad you’re my cousin, Thad. It makes it a lot easier!”

After they were gone, Thad thought about Pet’s remark but could not decide what she had meant by
it.
Their visit, however, had raised his spirits and given him a sense of freedom, for he felt that a door had opened. He looked up and gratefully whispered, “Thank you, God!”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

THE COURT-MARTIAL OF THAD NOVAK

Two days after Duke visited Thad, the lawyer came back again just after noon, looking even more rumpled and unkempt than before. He threw himself down in the same chair, took a huge bite from his plug of tobacco, then said without preamble, “We go before the court in three days—August fifteenth.”

“So soon?” Thad exclaimed. “I thought it took a long time to get ready to try a case.”

“That’s for civilians,” Duke answered. “Military ways are different. Try ’em—then either shoot ’em or let ’em go.” He opened his eyes to stare at Thad. “We don’t have a lot of time, boy. Tell me your story one more time.”

“But—you heard it all.”

“Sometimes clients change their stories. That’s one of the things a court looks for. They’ll hear the tale two or three times at least, and if you change your account one iota, it makes them think you’re lying—which you probably will be.” He didn’t bother to go to the window, but spat on the wall. “That’s one advantage of telling the truth, Novak. You don’t have to
remember
what you said the last time as you do when you lie. Tell it all again.”

Thad repeated his story and, as before, it seemed that Harry Duke slept through it all; but when Novak finished, he was surprised to see approval on the lawyer’s face. “Good! Just the same as last time—almost word for word. Bygad,
Novak, keep that up and you’ll even convince
me
you’re innocent!” Then he leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table. “Listen to me. I’m going to tell you how to behave in court. First thing is, don’t get mad—and you’ll probably want to. When somebody lies on you, don’t let a thing show in your face. Second thing is, don’t whine. You won’t get any sympathy by tears. The men who’ll be judging you have sat in on many court-martials, and they’ll put stock in their knowledge of men. So you just sit there, hold your head up, answer any questions put to you—by me or anybody else—and leave the rest up to me. You got that?”

“Yes, sir.”

Duke got up, his eyes probing Thad’s, and allowed an edge of concern to touch his sleepy eyes. “You a praying man, Novak?”

Thad shook his head slowly. “I don’t figure I got much right to claim anything from God, Captain. Seems like poor doin’s to ignore Him all my life, and come cryin’ like a baby when I get hurt.”

Duke stared at him for a long moment, then nodded. “That’s about my own sentiments, I guess.” A thought brought a glint of humor into his eyes, and a trace of a smile curled the edges of his mouth: “May be proper for you to delegate that job to someone else—like that girl—what’s her name? Patience, isn’t it?”

“Why . . . !” Thad was startled, and his face reddened. “If anyone could do it, I reckon she’d be the one, Captain.”

Duke turned, then wheeled back, saying, “Try to sleep. Shave close and look as good as you can.” He left abruptly, and Thad went to the window to watch him walk from the jail, cross the street, and enter a saloon. As the doors swung behind the man, Thad wondered again if he’d been right to allow the eccentric lawyer to defend him, but it was too late to think of that.

Harrison Duke spent an hour in the saloon, sitting alone at a table and slowly consuming the two drinks he allowed
himself. He had the facility of listening to people with part of his mind, and sending the rest of his razor-sharp mind off into a maze of possibilities. He had a photographic memory, and could repeat entire conversations months after everyone else had forgotten them. His firmest theory of law was that there was always a way to win—
always.
The trick was to find the single key that would pull the props out from under your adversary.

He sat there alone, and from time to time someone would mention the Novak matter. A bearded sergeant snarled loudly, “That Novak! A dirty rotten traitor! Shootin’s too good for him. I seen him myself, leadin’ the Yank cavalry right on top of us!”

Duke gauged the weight of the mutter of assent that went over the room, but said nothing. Finally he got up and left the saloon, walked around the courthouse and the jail twice, stopping once to stare up at the barred window where his client was kept. His mind sifted through a dozen plans that had surfaced. As he stood there, he saw Sky Winslow with his wife and daughter walking across the grassy plot that surrounded the jail, and something clicked. He walked rapidly toward the trio, catching them just as they were about to mount the steps of the landing.

“Mr. Winslow.” They turned, and he said, “I need a word with you.”

Sky asked, “Should we go back to my office?”

“No, let’s go over to the shade of that tree.” He led the way, and as soon as the four of them reached the shade, Duke broke the silence, saying urgently, “We’ve got to get that Union officer’s testimony.”

“You mean the one who captured Thad?” Sky asked.

“Yes. He’s the key to this thing—the only key.”

“I’ve already tried to wire his father, but the wires have been cut. I suspect Jeb Stuart and his boys did it.”

Harrison Duke was not a man of great tact, and he put
the matter bluntly: “Either we get that testimony, or Novak will be shot.”

“Mr. Duke—no!” Rebekah exclaimed. “Surely there’s some other way!”

“May be—but I can’t think of it.”

“But we don’t even know which regiment that captain was in!” Sky protested.

“Yes, we do, Papa!” Pet’s face was pale, and she added, “He was with General Sherman’s command.”

Duke stared at her, thinking hard. “That’s right, the boy did mention that. Of course, Sherman has several brigades, but not all that many troops of cavalry. Wouldn’t be much of a trick to find out the unit—if somebody would go in person.”

Sky stared at him. “That would be pretty difficult. The news is that Lincoln has replaced McClellan with Pope—and it sounds like General Pope is anxious to show more drive and spirit than Little Mac. He’s headed for a big push, the generals all think, and we’re rushing our men up to the Manassas area as quick as they can be mobilized.” His face took on a determined look. “I’ll go myself!”

“The President would never let you go, dear,” Rebekah said.

“You can’t go, Winslow,” Duke agreed immediately. “I’ll need you here to testify before the court.”

“I know who can find them, Papa!” Pet cried eagerly. “Dooley Young! He’s got fast horses and he’s smart.”

Sky thought it over a moment. “That’s not a bad idea, Pet.” His mind raced as he formulated plans. “I’ll get a pass from the President for Lowell Winslow.” He shook his head, saying, “It’d take that to get a Yankee officer into Richmond these days.”

“Get it now, Papa, and I’ll take it out to Dooley. He’s at his parents’ house until the company leaves.”

“Do it quick,” Duke advised. “The trial will start on the fifteenth. I can stall the jury for maybe a couple of days—three, I’d say.” His mouth puckered and he added, “Got to
point out that if they find him guilty, they won’t waste time carrying out the sentence—probably the next day.”

“Come with me, Pet!” Sky said hastily. “Rebekah, you go to Thad. I’ll be there as soon as I can get the pass from the President.”

He left immediately with Pet, and as they made their way to the Congress where the President’s office was located, Pet suggested, “Papa, why don’t you write a note to Major Lee, and I’ll stop off at the camp and get him to give Dooley a pass—or maybe two passes. Dooley can take his cousin Les Satterfield with him. It might be better if the two of them went—just in case one got sick or hurt.”

“I’d forgotten that,” Sky muttered. He gave his daughter a hug, saying huskily, “It’ll be all right, Pet. God won’t let us down.”

They entered the building, and Winslow was admitted almost at once to see the President. Pet waited in the outer office, and was relieved when her father came out in less than ten minutes with an envelope in his hand. “Here it is, Pet. You know what to tell Dooley?”

“Find Sherman’s command, ask for Captain Winslow in the cavalry, then tell him what’s happened to Thad.”

Sky nodded, and his face clouded. “It’s asking a lot of a Yankee officer to come and testify for a Confederate soldier charged with treason.” He pondered that, then said, “I’d better put it in writing.” He led her to his own office, and she waited impatiently as he sat down and wrote for twenty minutes. Finally he got up, blew the ink dry, and put the note in an envelope. He reached into a drawer and took out a leather dispatch case, put both documents inside, and handed them to her. “I wish I could go myself!” he said in exasperation. “Well, get these to Dooley as quickly as you can. Take the buggy. Your mother and I will hire a ride home.”

“All right, Papa.” They walked outside to where his buggy was waiting, and she stopped and impulsively pulled his head
down. Kissing him on the cheek, she asked, “Is it all right if I stay at the farm for a while?”

He thought he understood her desire to be alone, and nodded. “Yes. I’ll tell your mother.”

She got into the buggy, spoke to the mare, and raced down the street, soon disappearing around a corner at the end of the block. Sky took a deep breath and headed for the jail, wondering how he would keep a cheerful countenance before Thad.

****

Thad was surprised to see the full waiting room—much more crowded than the room where the court-martial was held. He had been brought out of his cell at nine o’clock by an armed guard of four privates, commanded by a lieutenant, and marched across the open space that separated the jail and the courthouse. He had a hard time when some of the observers called out insults at him, but he kept his head high and did not look at them. Inside, they passed through a large room with chairs all around the walls, and in that swift moment, he saw Mr. and Mrs. Winslow, Major Lee, and Captain Wickham in one group, and beyond them his two lieutenants, Mark Winslow and Beau Beauchamp. He caught a brief glimpse of several privates across the room, but did not have time to identify them.

BOOK: The Last Confederate
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