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Chapter FIFTEEN
The following morning at sunrise, Buck left his hotel and, feeling well-rested, walked briskly to the stage depot. He arrived to find Tracker, now attired as an inconspicuous working man in a rumpled but clean denim outfit, hoisting his carpetbag effortlessly onto the roof of the coach. He finished stowing his cased rifle inside the carriage before turning to greet his employer.
“We need to go over our plans with the driver and guard,” Buck informed him.
A few minutes later, Wes Taylor, the driver, and Freddie Swift, the guard, joined them. After introductions were exchanged, Buck said, “Gentlemen, here’s the situation we’re facing.” He noticed a man in butternut homespun with a luxurious handlebar mustache inspecting the hubs of the coach wheels. Buck motioned the others out of his hearing and continued. “You’ll need to keep a sharp eye out during this trip. I’ve reason to believe we’ll come under fire somewhere between here and Charleston.”
“Why’s that?” Freddie asked.
“I’ve been playing dead man’s tag with a sniper since I left Virginia.”
“I need to tell you, mister,” Wes declared, “I ain’t no good with a rifle or a hand gun. Never have been, but I can drive a coach and team to hell and back. Is that where we’re going?”
Buck smiled in spite of himself. “Maybe. How about you, Freddie? You any good with that gun of yours?”
“Mister, I was at Antietam and Gettysburg. After that I ain’t scared of nothing and I mostly hit what I aim at.”
“That’s all I can ask for,” Buck said. “Gentlemen, this sniper’s a crack shot. Probably has a Henry with a telescope, because he shoots from a distance, but he seems to have a problem with moving targets.”
“Maybe because he only has one good eye,” Tracker observed.
“Only one eye, huh?” Freddie rubbed his chin. “Which is the good one?”
“The right and he’s right-handed, so he has no trouble looking down the barrel of his rifle.”
“I’ll keep us moving,” Wes said. “You can count on that.”
Buck nodded. “Be especially careful if you have to stop along the road. So far he always shoots from ambush, usually high in a tree. But make no mistake. He’s utterly ruthless. He shoots horses and won’t hesitate to shoot women. During the war he sighted his rifle in on litter bearers and my patients. Killed several of ‘em.”
“My God,” Freddie exclaimed, shaking his head.
“Wes,” Buck said, glad he’d captured the young man’s attention, “you keep a sharp eye ahead and alert Tracker or Freddie if anything looks suspicious. Freddie, you watch the rear. From on top the coach, if that makes it easier for you. Tracker will be inside, protecting Mrs. Drexel. I’ll be a quarter of a mile ahead or behind you to make sure there are no surprises. If I see a problem, I’ll signal you. One shot means continue on, but be doubly alert. Two means stop where you are and take immediate cover, as best you can. If I fire three times, Wes, get the hell out of there. Full gallop. Understand?”
“Completely.”
Half an hour later a two-horse open brougham arrived. Buck greeted the Graysons and the two widows with them. He took Sarah’s arm as she climbed down, while Gus assisted Miriam, and the coachman helped Ruth to the ground. Janey, the mulatto servant, seated next to the driver, was left to get down by herself. Freddie and Wes removed the bags to the Concord. Gus greeted Tracker and shook his hand, then introduced him to Sarah and her mother as Pierre Bouchard.
Tracker doffed his hat to the ladies and bowed. “Enchanté, mesdames.”
“I’m pleased to meet you, Monsieur Bouchard,” Sarah responded comfortably in French.
“Please call me Tracker.” He smiled. “It will be my pleasure to accompany such a lovely lady. If at any time in our journey I can be of assistance to you, I hope you won’t hesitate to call on me.”
Miriam introduced Janey Stiles to him and a
Miriam wrapped her arms around Sarah. “Sarah, shalom. Please write us as soon as you can to let us know you arrived safely. And please keep us informed of what’s happening there. I wish we could’ve met under different circumstances, but be assured you’re forever in our hearts and will always be welcome in our home.”
“Thank you so much for your hospitality and the great gift of peace you’ve given me.” Sarah attempted to say more but her voice was fragile.
Her mother placed her hand on Sarah’s cheek and smiled through brimming tears. “Be safe, my child. I wish I were going with you, but your father . . .” She paused. “I’ll be joining you as soon as I recover my strength. I’m with good friends here. Don’t worry about me.”
Sarah threw her arms around her. “Oh, Momma.” The two black-clad women held their embrace and rocked gently for several seconds.
As they were separating, Miriam turned to the young servant. “Janey, I have something for you.” She reached into her purse and brought out a slim, leather-bound volume. “I know this is your favorite book, so it’s yours to keep you company away from home.”
Regaining her composure Sarah raised the book already in Janey’s hand. The So
“I can recite some of ‘em by heart, Miz Sarah, but I’d enjoy reading ’em, specially to you.”
“Ladies,” Buck intervened, “it’s time for us to be on our way.”
The inspector with the handlebar mustache had just finished checking the Concord’s leather suspension straps and walked back to the barn behind the depot.
Tracker came out of the stage office carrying a cloth-wrapped box which he carefully lashed to the roof among the luggage. Gus was right behind him, holding up a ticket in his right hand.
“Fortunately the coach isn’t full. The station master says sometimes it is and passengers have to sit on the roof.” He handed Janey the stiff paper voucher, then helped Sarah into the coach. Tracker, back on the ground, held the door for Janey who, momentarily startled by the unconventional courtesy, hesitated, then climbed in behind her. Through the window she smiled modestly at Tracker.
Buck came up to the door of the Concord. “Ladies, I don’t want to frighten you, but you need to be alert.” He saw Sarah tense, though she made a valiant effort not to let it show. He wished he didn’t have to remind her of their trip here but lulling her into a false sense of security was a luxury they couldn’t afford. “If we run into any trouble, please follow Tracker’s orders. He’s here to protect you. Do you have any questions?”
Sarah looked at him wide-eyed with apprehension. “You’re not coming with us?”
He’d given his ticket to Tracker. “I’ll be following you at a short distance to make sure nobody comes up behind you or threatens you in any way. Don’t worry, even if you can’t see me, you’ll never be out of my sight.”
“Dr. Thomson,” she said, “I appreciate all the precautions you’re taking on my behalf, but I expected you’d be riding with us.”
He didn’t want to tell her about the man stalking him, but he didn’t want her to be complacent either.
“Rightly or wrongly, I hold myself responsible for your father’s untimely death and your getting wounded. I couldn’t bear to have it on my conscience if anything more happened to you.”