Chapter Fifty-Two
The Union Army in Philadelphia was broken into sixteen training camps and one large military hospital, Camp Chestnut Hill. Philadelphia was considered to be one of the safest places in the north for training new troops and treating those who had been injured. Each camp had its own commanding officer, all of whom were equal rank, except for Camp Chestnut Hill who was headed by a higher ranking physician, Dr. Augustus Stephenson. His authority had only to do with the sick or injured who were quartered in his hospital. He could not interfere with any activities at the training camps else he would surely disapprove of many of the tactics their commanding officers allowed.
Hoss Cartwright was no soldier. As far as Dr. Stephenson was concerned, he had been in the wrong place at a time when the north was trying desperately to maintain a sufficient number of soldiers to win the war. His first priority was to ensure the man's health. His second was to ensure his health was sustained long enough to get him on a ship toward his home with his wife, a recent event he had no doubt was wrought in love rather than convenience. Annie had spoken frequently about her beau. Dr. Stephenson was also on the committee at the Female Medical College that allowed Annie to take her exam early, and knew that Cartwright had proposed on Christmas Day with a ring he had brought with him from Virginia City. There was no doubt the intent existed much longer than Captain Fletcher would admit.
Now, with the help of the doctor who saw to the needs of the colored unit at Camp William Penn, he was in the process of either assisting in an escape or rescue, depending on the point of view, of an apparent prisoner of Fletcher's. His only hope of saving Mr. Cartwright would be to get someone who outranked Captain Fletcher to come to Philadelphia to overturn Fletcher's flagrantly imprudent decision. But that would have to wait. He and Dr. Freeman would have to remove Mr. Cartwright from Camp Philadelphia right under the nose of Captain Fletcher.
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Shiloh waited at the table, fearing more for Ming Lin as each minute ticked by. Glancing back at the clock on the kitchen mantel, she waited fifteen minutes before she began to think of what she might do. Shorty and Ming Lin were the only two people besides herself at the house. She could probably navigate her way to the barn by holding the rope Ming Lin had tied, but what if she slipped and fell…and then couldn't get back inside the house?
Staring at the cup in front of her, she finally nodded and stood, going to the front room for her heavy shawl and taking a gun out of the drawer of the gun cabinet. She made sure it was loaded, then went back to the kitchen and stepped out into a cold that took her breath away for a moment. With snow stinging her eyes, she tried to see any movement in the whiteout conditions, but saw nothing. She yelled for Ming Lin at the top of her lungs, but the sound was carried away on the wind. Struggling down the steps to the rail where the rope was tied, she tugged on the rope which pulled freely, and when she reached the end, she knew Ming Ling was in trouble.
Pointing the gun up, she fired…and waited. "Ming Lin!" she yelled. Still nothing. She fired again and watched the whiteness in front of her. There…in the distance…did she see movement? She fired a third time and waited. Yes, she saw something, but not from the direction of the barn.
In another minute, Shorty rode up on his horse, and jumping down from his saddle, he ran to her side. "Mrs. Cartwright, what in tarnation are you doin' out here? Mr. Adam'd be fit to be tied if he knew you were out here."
She had grabbed a wad of Shorty's coat sleeve with one hand as she nodded urgently, waiting for him to quiet. "Ming Lin went to the barn, but the rope he tied came undone," she yelled to be heard over the wind. "I'm afraid he's lost out there." She moved her hand back to her shawl which was trying to escape with the wind.
Shorty's eyes widened with urgency, and taking her arm, he helped her back up the steps to the porch where he moved her back underneath the overhang. "In a couple of minutes, you shoot that gun again, you hear me?" After receiving a nod, Shorty trotted down the steps, grabbed the rope and disappeared into the white.
Ben looked up from the ledger he was working on at his desk, turning his ear toward the window behind him. Had he heard a gunshot? Shaking his head, he dismissed the sound as something created by the howling wind and continued working in the ledger.
But there it was again; a pop that could only be a gunshot. He rose from his desk and went to the front door, opening it and letting snow blow in. He closed it again only to take his coat and hat off the hook behind the door, before he stepped out. Hop Sing joined him from the kitchen.
"Hop Sing, did you hear that?"
Nodding, Hop Sing answered, "Sound like gun, but wind too loud. Maybe not gun."
They heard it again. "That was a shot, and it came from the direction of Adam's place."
Both men ducked their heads against the wind-whipped snow and headed to the barn, making quick work of saddling their horses.
"Hop Sing, stay close. It'll be hard to see the road, so I'll be going by dead reckoning."
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Adam had thought he'd turn in early. There was really nothing else to do in Grizzly Flat in the middle of one of the worst snow storms he could remember. Trotting back over to the barn, he noticed quite a few coaches that had not been in the yard when he'd left. When he opened the door, the wind tore it out of his hand, sending it banging against the front wall. He struggled to pull it to, then turned to see a barn full of men and women; those who had been turned away from the hotel. Raising his hand to cover his mouth, he closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. It seemed the night was going to be a long one.
Walking through the crowd to Buster's stall, he stopped and looked around. Buster was gone, having been replaced by three men spreading out their bedrolls in the hay on the floor of the stall.
Adam cleared his throat. "Excuse me, but these accommodations are already taken. What have you done with my horse?"
"Mister, it's people first, and then animals. Your horse is outside with the rest of 'em."
"These just happen to be my accommodations as well, and I'd prefer to spend the night with my horse," he said with a tight lipped smile and quick nod. "So if you fellas will gather your things and leave, I'll go get my horse and spend the night in the stall I've already paid double for."
The three men stood and crossed their arms.
"Where's the stable master?" Adam turned and yelled across the barn.
"We're all looking for him," was the answer that returned from the crowd.
Puckering his mouth and nodding, Adam slowly turned back to the three men. "Look fellas, I don't want to fight, especially..." he turned and motioned toward the men and women who had begun to gather, "in front of all these people, so why don't you pick up your blankets and wait to pay for your own space like everyone else."
"You thinkin' you're gonna take on all three of us?"
"I won't need to. I'm going to go get my horse, and when I get back, he's going in this stall whether you're here or not."
Adam backed away toward the door, and when he turned to open it, one of three men caught him across his shoulders with the handle of a pitchfork, sending him sprawling to the floor.
The crowd consisting mostly of those who arrived in buggies and coaches wearing fashionable attire began to step back toward the back of the barn as Adam shook off the blow and pushed himself up off the barn floor. Turning slowly, he met a smile missing a tooth with flared nostrils and an angry glare.
"As I said," he began, shrugging his shoulders against the pain, "I'm going to get my horse, and he is going in that stall."
The man lifted the handle of the pitchfork again, but Adam was ready this time. With his left hand, he caught the handle and pulled it out of the man's hand at the same time his right fist flew into the man's jaw, sending him reeling back and falling unceremoniously over a barrel to the floor.
The two other men rushed forward, and though Adam received at least one blow, he dealt out enough of his own that eventually all three men were back on the floor. Mostly out of embarrassment, they got up again, but this time Adam had had enough and drew his gun.
"All right, that's enough. Get your gear and get out. You've caused enough trouble for one night."
When they began to protest, one of the spectators, a man about Adam's build, but wearing a suit jacket and waistcoat came forward. "It seems this man has the upper hand, and after seeing how quickly he drew his gun, I wouldn't argue if I were you. You've worn out your welcome with all of us."
As Adam and the well-dressed man looked on, the three trouble makers quickly gathered their bedrolls and saddles, glancing back grudgingly at the gun in Adam's hand. They eased by him, sidestepping to the door and left.
Placing his gun in its holster, Adam stuck his thumbs in his belt and exhaled, turning to the man who had backed him up. "Thank you," he said, holding out his hand. "Adam Cartwright."
Accepting his hand, the other man said, "My pleasure. William Ralston. My friends call me Billy."
Adam hesitated shaking Ralston's hand only for a second that was hardly noticeable. He recognized the name as being the founder of the Bank of California, and he knew that Ralston was a bull when it came to business. Ralston had foreclosed on a few of the mines in Virginia City when the owners couldn't pay the notes held by the bank. Having no desire to talk business, Adam let the conversation drop and excused himself to retrieve Buster.
Buster had worked his way into the middle of the horses in the corral next to the livery. The horses stood right next to each other, head to tail, and because he was the biggest horse there, it had been easy to push his way into the warmest spot. The horses on the outside of the tightly packed wad were shivering to the point that Adam questioned whether they would survive until morning. But there was nothing he could do. As one of the trouble makers had said, 'people come first,' and there was no room for all these horses in the barn with all those people.
Adam collected Buster and took him back to his stall where he brushed the horse down and gave him some carrots he had taken from Hop Sing's root cellar and stashed in his saddle bag.
"Excuse me, Mr. Cartwright, but could you tell me where we might find some blankets. It seems we are spending the night in this barn."
Adam turned his head, but kept brushing Buster. "Well, this is a stable. The only blankets you'll find here are horse blankets." He leaned around Mr. Ralston to see the woman who had been standing with him. "And I don't think the young lady will appreciate the smell."
"You seem to be familiar with barns," said Ralston, apologetically smiling for the way that sounded. "Perhaps you have some suggestions."
"Well, I'd find a space on the floor, pile up some hay so it's soft, and get some sleep. Use your overcoats and capes for cover."
It seemed everyone was listening for Adam's advice as all the women began to look around at the floor.
Adam pulled Ralston closer. "Do you suppose your wife can climb that ladder?" he said, pointing to ladder that led to the hayloft.
Ralston looked up. "Whatever for?"
"That's probably the softest and warmest place in the barn. The hay up there is clean, and any heat from all these bodies in here will rise, so that," he said, moving his eyes from Ralston to the loft, "will be the warmest place in the building."
Smiling, Ralston clapped Adam on the back and made his way over to his wife.
"One more thing," Adam said loud so everyone could here. "If you find those horse blankets, I'd put them on your horses. Some of them might not make it tonight without them." Without waiting for a response, Adam turned back into his and Buster's stall and prepared to get comfortable.
