Let There Be Light Page 17

  “Take care of your business quickly and get back to bed.”

  “Sure will.”

  Toomey picked up his pace and hurried toward the privies. A few minutes later, he came out, waved at the guards, and moved with haste to his hole in the ground.

  The next morning, when the men of A Company were ordered by the guards to join the Union soldiers of five other areas and walk to the mess hall for their thirty-minute breakfast shift, they soon entered the hall and sat down at the tables under the watchful eyes of the guards.

  Lieutenant Harry Fisher stood before them and observed as guards began calling the roll, with sheets of paper in hand, overlooking the names that were scratched out. Each man answered with a “Yo!”

  Edgar Toomey’s heart was banging his ribs. When the guard assigned to A Company read off the name of Captain William Linden and there was no reply, Toomey cupped a hand over his mouth and grinned.

  Lieutenant Harry Fisher picked up on Captain William Linden’s absence immediately.

  While the prisoners were looking around as if they could not believe Linden would bypass breakfast, Fisher glanced at Corporal Joel Stevens. “Corporal, will you go to Captain Linden’s tent and check on him, please?”

  “Yes, sir. With all the sickness that’s in the camp, Lieutenant, I’d say Captain Linden is probably coming down with something.” With that, Stevens left the mess hall and headed across the compound toward the area marked off for A Company.

  When he entered the area, he hurried up to Linden’s tent. The flap was still down. “Captain Linden, are you in there?”

  Dead silence.

  “Captain Linden?”

  Not a sound.

  Stevens leaned down, pulled back the flap, and stuck his head inside. What he saw made him catch his breath and sent a tingle up his spine. He moved in and knelt beside Linden’s form. A sharp length of tree limb was buried deep in his chest. He pressed fingers to the side of Linden’s neck, intending to see if there was a pulse. The coldness of his skin and the lack of a pulse told him the man indeed was dead.

  Back in the mess hall, Edgar Toomey was eating his small ration of grits and cornbread, acting as if all was normal. He kept a watchful eye on the door and smiled to himself when he saw Corporal Joel Stevens enter and rush up to Lieutenant Fisher. Since the prisoners were not allowed to talk during meals, all was quiet in the mess hall except for the tinkling sound of eating utensils. Everyone heard Stevens tell Fisher he found Captain William Linden dead in his tent; he had been stabbed through the heart with a sharp stick.

  “Let’s go tell Captain Wirz,” Fisher told Stevens. The two went out the door.

  As they neared the cabin, Wirz was just coming out the door with Sergeant Dan Tyler. They saw the two men hurrying toward them and waited.

  Wirz frowned. “Something wrong?”

  “Yes, sir,” said Fisher. “When the roll was called for A Company at breakfast, Captain Linden was not there. I sent Corporal Stevens to see about him. He found him dead in his tent.”

  Wirz’s eyebrows arched. “Hmm. He hasn’t been on the sick list as far as I know.”

  “It wasn’t sickness, sir,” said Stevens. “Somebody killed him. He’s got a length of tree branch buried in his chest.”

  Wirz looked at Tyler. “Let’s go take a look.” Then he said to Fisher and Stevens, “You two come with us.”

  Breakfast was almost over. Edgar Toomey was gloating within. William Linden had finally paid for the deaths of Lester Toomey, Keith Lewis, Todd Zediker, and a host of other men of A Company. He was draining the last of the weak coffee from his cup when he saw the door open and Captain Henry Wirz come in with Lieutenant Harry Fisher, Sergeant Dan Tyler, and Corporal Joel Stevens on his heels.

  Wirz stepped to a central spot so all could see and hear him. “Men, give me your attention.”

  Most of the prisoners in the mess hall were already looking at him.

  “I have an announcement. Captain William Linden was murdered in his sleep last night.”

  Underneath the tabletop, Edgar Toomey was silently clapping his hands.

  The other Union soldiers were showing their shock at the news.

  Wirz went on. “Listen to me, men. You are our enemies, and we are your enemies. But even though Captain Linden was an enemy soldier, there will be an investigation. Murder is wrong, no matter who the victim is. Captain Linden was a human being and had the right to live as we all do. He never broke any of the rules that bring capital punishment in the camp. This is a dastardly deed, and I will do my best to find the guilty party and bring him to justice.”

  Edgar Toomey felt warmth flowing through his body. Vengeance was his, and soon he would also have his vengeance on Dan Tyler. He had concocted a plan and would do his best to make it work.

  The prisoners filed out of the mess hall to give room for the next shift to have their breakfast. Their faces showed the grief they felt that another Union soldier was dead. When they returned to their respective areas, there were whispers that some low-down Rebel guard had done the dastardly deed.

  Linden’s body was carried outside the stockade to the prison graveyard two hours later and buried along with eleven other prisoners who had died of various diseases in the infirmary during the night.

  Shortly after the burial, Corporal Willie Botham and a new guard named Corporal Ted Hobson were moving along the path that led past the A Company area when they saw a Union officer wave to get their attention.

  “Who’s that?” asked Hobson.

  “Lieutenant Edgar Toomey. He’s a real troublemaker.”

  “Oh yeah. A couple of the guards were talking about him yesterday. From what I could pick up, he’s Sergeant Dan Tyler’s number one antagonist in this place.”

  “You’ve got that right.”

  Toomey drew up. He swept a glance over the face of the new guard, then settled on Botham. “Corporal Botham, I need to see Captain Wirz. It’s very important that I talk to him in his office.”

  “What’s it about?”

  “I’d rather tell the captain.”

  “The first thing he’s going to ask me when I tell him you’ve requested a meeting with him is what it’s about. If I tell him you refused to give me that information, he’ll turn you down. Besides, you can’t see him alone anyway. There have to be two guards present anytime the captain talks to a prisoner personally in his office.”

  Toomey nodded. “All right. It’s about Captain Linden’s murder. I know who did it.”

  “Oh? Who?”

  “Let me at least divulge that when I meet with the captain. Since you’re the messenger, you’ll probably be one of the guards who’ll be in on the meeting, won’t you?”

  “I would say so.”

  “Then you’ll hear it at that time. Please go tell him. It’s urgent, believe me.”

  “All right.”

  Toomey kept his eyes on both guards as they hurried toward the captain’s cabin. He watched them go inside, and they emerged only seconds later. Toomey grinned to himself. I knew that would get the ol’ boy’s attention in a hurry.

  Minutes later, Captain Henry Wirz was seated at his desk with Toomey standing before him, flanked by Botham and Hobson.

  Wirz did his best to mask the aversion he felt toward Toomey as he looked up at him. “So I’m told you know who murdered Captain Linden.”

  “I sure do.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “Sergeant Dan Tyler.”

  Wirz let a smirk curve his mouth. “Lieutenant Toomey, when are you going to let this hatred you have for Sergeant Tyler die?”

  Toomey stiffened. “This has nothin’ to do with that. I know what I saw.”

  Wirz sighed and shook his head. “Tell me what you saw.”

  “It was twenty minutes after midnight when I woke up and had to use the privy. While I was walkin’ the path to the privies, by the lantern light from the closest guard tower I saw Tyler—uh, Sergeant Tyler go into Captain Linden’s tent with
a narrow piece of wood in his hand. He didn’t know I saw him.”

  “And just how did you know the precise time?”

  “Well, when I climbed out of that hole I sleep in, I took out my pocket watch just to see what time it was.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out the watch. “Here. This is it. It works. Check it out.”

  Wirz glanced at the hands of the watch and noted that they were indicating the correct time at the moment. He knew Toomey too well, and the accusation against Dan Tyler infuriated him. Hard emotion lurked behind his eyes—eyes which glittered with a potent awareness of deception. “You’re a liar, Toomey! Sergeant Tyler is a fine man and an excellent soldier. He would not murder anyone.”

  Toomey shrugged. “I know what I saw. I just felt I should tell you about it. You did say in the mess hall this mornin’ that it was a dastardly deed and you’d do your best to find the guilty party and bring him to justice.”

  Wirz glared at him.

  “Well, that is what you said, wasn’t it, Captain?”

  “Yes.”

  Toomey shrugged again. “I did my duty. I came here and told you what I saw. If you want to verify that I visited the privy at twelve-twenty last night, you can ask the guards who were in that area. They saw me. I’m tellin’ you the truth, Captain. I clearly saw Sergeant Tyler enter Captain Linden’s tent with the stick in his hand.”

  Wirz’s eyes flashed with indignation. “I’m going to make you tell this to Sergeant Tyler, face to face!”

  “Bring him here. I’ll be glad to do that.”

  Wirz held Toomey’s steady gaze as he rose from the desk chair. “I’ll just do that.”

  Wirz went to the door, opened it, caught sight of a guard walking by, and called to him, telling him to find Sergeant Dan Tyler and tell him to come to his office immediately. He then returned to his desk and sat down, staring at Toomey.

  Toomey sniffed and rubbed his nose. “Don’t look at me like that, Captain. I’m tellin’ you the truth.”

  “Uh-huh. All you’ve done since you came here was to show hatred and contempt for Sergeant Tyler. I still say you’re lying. And I’m telling you right now, this kind of accusation against Sergeant Tyler can result in greater punishment than you’ve imagined. You sure you don’t want to change your story before he gets here?”

  “Absolutely not. I’m tellin’ you the truth. You should be commendin’ me for reportin’ what I saw, not threatenin’ me. Tyler—Sergeant Tyler went into Captain Linden’s tent carryin’ the stick that Corporal Joel Stevens found buried in his chest. He should be punished for his crime.”

  The sounds of booted feet were heard on the cabin porch. Willie Botham turned and opened the door. “Come in, Sergeant.”

  Dan Tyler stepped in, glanced at Hobson and Botham, fixed his eyes on Edgar Toomey for a second, then drew up beside Botham. “You wanted to see me, Captain?”

  Wirz nodded. “Yes. Lieutenant Toomey has come to me with an accusation against you, and I told him he was going to have to accuse you to your face.”

  Tyler turned to Toomey. “I’m listening.”

  Toomey’s jaw firmed. “I saw you go into Captain Linden’s tent while he was asleep last night, carryin’ a stick. The one you plunged into his heart.”

  Dan held Toomey’s gaze for a few seconds, then turned to Wirz. “He’s lying through his teeth, Captain. As you well know, he hates me. He’s probably the one who put the stick in Captain Linden’s heart so he could accuse me of it.”

  Toomey bugged his eyes. “That’s preposterous! Why would I kill a fellow Union soldier, especially the leader of my company?”

  “You must’ve had something against Captain Linden and after murdering him in his tent, you made sure the guards saw you a little later so you could lie and frame the man in this camp that you hate the most.”

  Toomey stared at him uncompromisingly. “You’ve got a vivid imagination, Sergeant.”

  “Just what time last night did you see me go into Captain Linden’s tent with that stick in my hand?”

  “Twenty minutes after midnight.”

  Tyler turned to the captain. “Sir, after shift change at eleven o’clock last night, Clay Holden and Joel Stevens were with me in my tent till exactly one-fifteen. We were having Bible study and prayer together. They’ll verify it.”

  This was a jolt to Toomey, but he kept up his facade as Wirz said, “Corporal Botham, will you go find those two men and bring them here, please?”

  Botham headed for the door. “Yes, sir.”

  “And Corporal …”

  Botham turned around. “Yes, sir?”

  “Don’t tell Holden and Stevens what Sergeant Tyler said about them being in his tent last night. In fact, don’t tell them anything that’s been discussed here, including Lieutenant Toomey’s accusation.”

  “Yes, sir.” Botham was out the door quickly.

  Wirz looked up at Toomey. “You want to change your story before Corporals Holden and Stevens get here?”

  Toomey’s eyes were steady, cold, and without expression. “Why should I? Like I told you, Captain, I’m tellin’ you the truth. My captain was murdered last night. I saw the killer go into his tent, carryin’ the weapon that took his life.”

  Wirz moved his head slowly back and forth. “I’ve met some expert liars in my time, Toomey, but you take the cake.”

  Toomey pulled his lips back over his buck teeth and folded his arms.

  “No doubt due to a lifetime of practice,” said Tyler. “It takes a lot of practice to be this cold and calculating about accusing a man of murder when you know he’s innocent.”

  Toomey’s eyes settled on Tyler. They were so black and elliptic; they made him think of a bull rattlesnake. He imagined the white lines running from the eyes over scaly skin to the corners of his mouth and almost heard him hiss and shake his rattles.

  Voices were heard outside, drawing near, followed by boots scraping on the wooden floor of the porch. The door opened and Corporal Willie Botham stepped in with Clay Holden and Joel Stevens on his heels. “They were close by.”

  Wirz nodded. “Good.”

  Dan Tyler’s friends looked at Edgar Toomey, then Holden turned to Wirz. “What’s this about, Captain?”

  Wirz ran his gaze between them. “What time did you two men go to bed last night?”

  Deep lines etched themselves across Holden’s brow. “Well, about one-thirty, sir. Why?”

  Wirz focused on Stevens. “That right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What were you doing prior to that?”

  “We were in Sergeant Tyler’s tent, studying the Bible and praying, sir. What’s wrong?”

  Wirz ignored the question. “Tell me exactly what time the two of you went to Sergeant Tyler’s tent and exactly what time you left it.”

  Holden and Stevens exchanged glances, then Holden said, “Captain, all three of us went to the sergeant’s tent immediately after shift change at eleven o’clock, and Joel and I were there until exactly one-fifteen. Joel had looked at his watch when we finished our prayer time and commented that we’d better get to bed.”

  “And you never left the tent at any time between the time you entered it and when you left at one-fifteen.”

  “No, sir. Neither did Sergeant Tyler. What is this all about?”

  “Lieutenant Toomey came to me and said that he saw Sergeant Tyler enter Captain William Linden’s tent at exactly twelve-twenty last night. And that he had a stick in his hand—the stick that you found buried in his chest, Corporal Stevens.”

  Surprise showed on the faces of both men.

  “Well, that’s a lie, sir,” said Stevens. “At twelve-twenty, we were in the sergeant’s tent, like we told you, and he was with us.”

  Toomey laughed. “Sure, I expect your pals to lie for you, Sergeant Tyler. You had this all set up to make yourself look innocent. You murdered my good friend and superior officer, Captain William Linden, and you oughtta hang for it!”

  Captain Wirz opened his
mouth to say something, but before he could get a word out, he was interrupted by a loud shout just outside the gate, accompanied by rapid, pounding hooves: “The War is over! The War is over!”

  Wirz looked at Botham and Hobson as he rose from his chair. “Watch him.”

  Corporals Holden and Stevens followed Sergeant Tyler and the commandant as they bolted out the door. The rider was now coming through the open gate, which was held by one of the guards, and when he saw Wirz, he slipped out of the saddle and dashed up to him. Guards were running up from all over the compound.

  Botham and Hobson brought Toomey out on the porch of the cabin.

  “Captain Wirz,” said the rider breathlessly, “we’ve met, but I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Lieutenant Kyle Kimbrough from the army post at Macon. A wire came to us early this morning from Confederate headquarters in Richmond. It said that yesterday at Appomattox Courthouse, Virginia, General Robert E. Lee surrendered to General Ulysses S. Grant. We lost, but at least the War is over!”

  The Confederate guards and their commandant stood with pale faces.

  Captain Wirz ran his gaze over the gathering group. “Men, this is sad news in that we’ve been defeated, but it’s really no surprise. We’ve known deep in our hearts that with the economic problems in the Confederacy, it was inevitable. At least, in time, now, we can all go home to our families. There will be no more bloodshed, and in a matter of a few weeks, I’m sure, both Union and Confederate prison camps will be emptied.”

  Word was spreading all over the camp, and by this time, prisoners were running like stampeding cattle toward the gathering at the gate, followed by guards who were trying to get them to stop. Guards in the towers were shouldering their rifles.

  Wirz signaled them to hold their fire and allowed the Union horde to gather before him. They were whooping for joy.

  The guards were circling the gleeful prisoners, holding their guns at ready position.

  Wirz let them have their moment of celebration, then raised his hands for them to get quiet. When they did, he lifted his voice so all could hear. “You’ve had your time of celebration, men. Now I want all of you to go back to your areas. All rules are still in effect and will be until you are shipped north, which no doubt will be in a few weeks. You are still our prisoners until then and I expect you to conduct yourselves as such. Anyone who gets out of line will be dealt with as if the War was still on.”