Chapters (50)
- Cover
- Half Title Page
- Books by Elizabeth Camden
- Title Page
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Historical Note
- Questions for Discussion
- In 2021, look for Luke Delacroix’s story in
- About the Author
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- Back Cover
That was the only time she’d ever seen Luke cry. He clung to her as he wept, each of his wrenching sobs cutting her to the bone. Luke was irreverent and reckless, but he wasn’t a traitor. She couldn’t believe it of him.
“I still don’t think he’s guilty,” she asserted as she stared at Gray across his desk.
He sighed. “Caroline, he looked me straight in the eyes and confessed. Why would he lie if he’s innocent?”
It was a mystery. Luke had been locked up for three months with no communication to the outside world except an occasional visit from Gray. He wasn’t allowed to send them letters. He refused to see the lawyer they had hired and maintained his right to silence when questioned by military personnel.
“I spoke with an attorney about filing paperwork for a presidential pardon,” she told Gray. “Mr. Alphonse refused to take my money. He says it’s hopeless until after the election.”
Gray straightened in his chair. “But McKinley might not win. I know everyone in Washington loves him, but William Jennings Bryan owns the west. We can’t take anything for granted.”
The hint of panic in his tone was worrisome. “I know,” she said. “I think it’s time for me to appeal straight to the president. No intermediary. No lawyers or paperwork.”
It was time for her to act.
Eight
Although Caroline lived in the same house as the president, she wasn’t free to wander in for a chat like people in a normal household. George reluctantly squeezed her in for a brief appointment before the president’s afternoon meeting with the Treasury Secretary.
A few minutes before two o’clock, she paced in the waiting room outside the president’s office, where the Secretary of the Treasury also cooled his heels. She’d been too nervous to eat breakfast or lunch, only drinking several fortifying cups of strong black coffee. Now she trembled in a combination of fear, hunger, and caffeine as she rehearsed how best to frame her request. Luke had already pled guilty, so trying to convince the president of his innocence was pointless. All she could do was beg for mercy.
She was shown into the president’s office promptly at two. She’d only been in this room a few times, but it never failed to surprise her. It was an imposing room, but two thick electrical cords dangled from the ceiling directly over the president’s desk. One serviced the lamp and the other a telephone.
“Any plans to improve the wiring?” she asked, already knowing the answer, but the question was a subtle reminder of the challenges Ida brought to his life.