Churchill sat in the loft above the saloon turning a pirated coin over again in his hand as he studied the cards before him. The music of the band slurred as its players became intoxicated. Churchill took a drag on his cigarette boasting in the contentment of his security.

Dripping wet with the late night rain, a shadow entered into the saloon. The band stopped playing and patrons stopped drinking, the saloon girls froze in their tracks.

The man pulled back his hood with a devilish smile on his face. "Please, continue playing." The band slowly began to pick up again as Kincaid turned his attention to the stairs. A quick glance at the loft met his eyes with Churchill. The two stared at each other and Churchill knew that he knew.

"If you'll pardon me gentlemen," he said getting up from the table. He pocketed his coin but left all his other winnings on the table. He met Kincaid in a side room that he used for sleeping after hours. The red haired man was slicking back his wet locks in a clouded mirror above a barrel.

Churchill slammed the door, closing out the sounds of the busy saloon. "What are you doing here, Keller? Or should I say Wendigo?"

Kincaid faced the proprietor. "Didn't the Devil tell you? I've come to make widows."

Churchill scoffed. "What are you doing in Virginia, this is my territory?"

Kincaid touched the stumble on his face then turned away from the mirror. "I'm not here to steal your business, Churchill. You're the go to mercenary in these parts. I'm just a messenger boy."

Churchill frowned. "What are you after?"

"I just want to ask a few questions." He sat down on the barrel.

"Well I don't have time for your games," Churchill said. "I have a business to run. Unlike you I actually have a real job."

Kincaid smirked. "I know what you did in Kentucky," he said and Churchill stopped in his tracks. "There was a man there, went by Hatchet Bill; also a mercenary." He rubbed under his lip which was twisted in a grin. "But that's not the only skill he had. He could decipher codes...pre Civil War codes. He's dead now, Churchill and your work was all over it."

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Churchill shouted.

"How big of a cut did the old man promise you for betraying me? Fifty percent...forty?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

Kincaid stood up. "You're a lousy liar and a blazing fool! You think I couldn't figure you out? What was the next step...kill me?"

"You're obsessed with this treasure." He went over to a table and poured himself a glass of rum which he shot down. "What do you want from me?"

"The truth?" Kincaid licked his lips. "I wanted to kill you. I thought about taking you from here to Great Dismal Swamp. Chaining you up and drowning you in it. But I lost the willpower for man slaying tonight."

Churchill filled another glass. "Lucky me." Smiling, he brought it to his lips then sputtered. He gurgled. The glass dropped to the floor and rolled on the rug as he rubbed his neck. Stumbling back he leaned on the tabled as he gasped for air. "I...I..." He looked at Kincaid who wasn't at all surprised by the change come over him.

"Come now, Churchill, take yourself in hand. You've always been a drinking man." He picked up the glass and refilled it. "There we are." He presented it to him.

Churchill slapped it away. "What have you done?"

"Nothing sinister." Kincaid looked him in the eye. 

"You poisoned me."

" I bribed your bass player. It's just a mild allergic reaction. If my math is right you wont' die."

Churchill wheezed. "Doctor." He reached for the door. His face turning red as he slumped to the floor.

Kincaid picked his nails. "I want to talk about you stabbing me in back a little more."

Churchill panted."The Devil take you."

Kincaid squatted next to him. "He'd send us both back, old friend." He patted Churchill on the shoulder and opened the door. "I'll see about that doctor." He stepped out and shut the door behind him.

/

Miriam was exhausted from the train and sore from the carriage ride. She toted her luggage bags up the long driveway on wobbly feet. Her cream driving duster and hat was spotted with soot and dust and her hair had nearly fallen out of its pinned up style. Her white boots no longer were appropriate for the season but she hadn't packed any others. It was also rather cold and she didn't have a proper coat, though she remembered to tell her sisters to pack theirs.

When she reached the back door she put her luggage down long enough to knock and manservant opened the door."Is this the St. Cloud residence?" She asked breathlessly.

"It is. You must be Miss Fairchild."

"Thank heavens this is the place," Miriam exhaled. She let the servant take her things and removed her hat as she stepped inside. The house was vast and beautiful. It was bigger than Fairchild place with more modern decorations.

"Who is it, John?"

John, the servant, looked to the stairs. "Miss Fairchild, sir."

"Another one?" Jessop grumbled.

Miriam glanced up at him sideways.

"Take her to her sisters." Jessop waved John off.

They crossed the ballroom and Miriam couldn't stop staring at how beautiful it was.

"This way," John said when she got distracted. He led her up a flight of stairs and to a closed door. "I'll put these in the bedroom for you." He informed her. "Your sisters are in the parlor."

"Thank you," Miriam said as the old man continued up the hall. Already she felt sorry for the way he had been treated. Pushing the thought out of her head she opened the door. The room was lit brightly by the sun. On the sofa, Selene sat reading, and adjacent her was Taitiann, sewing a shirt.

She could have guessed she'd find them this way. Selene lost in some old book and Taitiann ever industrious. "Good morning."

Both sisters turned to the doorway. Their surprised faces turned into smiles and they raced to her, throwing their arms around her.

"Miriam!"

"How is father?"

"How it mother?

"Did you get to see them?"

"How are they?"

"Will they be free?"

Miriam laughed. How she had missed them so much. She pulled off her gloves and duster.

Selene led her over to the sofa where she sat and rested."Tell us what happened?"

Miriam bit her lip. She didn't want to admit to them that she had failed miserably. She hadn't even been able to see their parents. "So, did you get to talk to the lawyer?"

Selene stared at her sister. She knew then that she had failed in Mississippi. "We did," she said, feeling the pain in her throat. "He said no."

"No?" Miriam nearly exploded. "What do you mean no?"

"I mean he won't help us," Selene said. "I tried, Miriam, I really tried."

"I should have known." Miriam jumped up from the couch. "What are you still doing here then?"

"We have no place else to go. Mrs. St. Cloud said we could stay and work for our rooms." Taitiann said. She had returned to repairing the shirt and now Miriam glared down at it.

"Who's shirt is that?" When Taitiann only looked up at her without an answer, Miriam snatched the shirt from her hands. "He can repair his own clothes."

"Miriam we have no choice. Where will we go? Where will we live?"

"I'll find us a place. Selene and I can get jobs teaching. Taitiann, you've served in houses before. We'll get our own place and then I'll send for the girls."

Selene stood up. "If I could just make one suggestion—"

"No," Miriam said marching towards the door. "We will not stay here. My decision is final." She stormed out the door and up the hall. In the hallway she met John again. "Where are my things, please?"

John pointed. "Three doors down, miss. Is there a problem?"

"We will not be staying here any longer," Miriam said with her head up. "Do you know any colored hotels in the area?"

"Miss, If I may...don't rush out so quickly. Things may change for the better. Jessop is a good man and an even better lawyer."

Miriam scoffed. "Was that he on the banister when I came in?"

"It was."

"Well I fail to see anything good in such an attitude. You can excuse him all you please but I've been in more states than one and all around I've seen his type. I know exactly how he is and I don't intend to stand it."

John smiled, much to her annoyance. "With all the fire you've got in you. I think you could persuade him."

"I' will do no such thing," Miriam said offended. "And I don't have fire in me."

"Oh yes," John chuckled. "You are a very angry young woman." His amused face softened into one of pity the longer he studied her. He gently took her hand. "Who hurt you, darling?"

Miriam looked at him like he had two heads and snatched her hand away. She spun around and marched up the hall into the bedroom designated her. She slammed the door behind her and went over to the window. She closed her eyes tightly, resting her head against the glass. "Don't let them see you cry, don't let them see you angry, don't let them know what hurts. Don't let them see you cry, don't let them see you angry, don't let them know what hurts." She trembled. "Don't let them see you cry, don't let them see you angry, don't let them see what hurts. Don't let them see you cry..."