A draft of vicious wind whistled through the building, making a chill skitter up her spine. “Where are we going?”
Granddad rested a hand against the small of her back. To lend comfort or to spur her onward if her feet faltered? “What do you know about the Knights of the Golden Circle?”
“The KGC?” The wind seemed colder. “That they’re a Copperhead group. A Southern-sympathizing social club that boasts hundreds of thousands of members.”
“Social club?” Granddad’s short laugh sounded dry. “Perhaps for many of those hundreds of thousands, but not for the high-level members. It is a very serious organization, one with a very dangerous agenda.”
“Promoting slavery. I know.”
Walker came to such an abrupt halt that she nearly ran into his back. His eyes shot shards of ice at her. “You want to say that a little more flippantly next time, princess?”
She dimpled and batted her lashes. “Perhaps I could try if you could be more sensitive to the subject.”
“Enough.” Her grandfather’s tone sounded mournful, bringing her gaze back to his face. “This is serious, Mari. A matter of murder and treason, of the deliberate destruction of the Union—and of which Lucien had a part, and Devereaux too.”
“Nonsense. They both pledged their loyalty to the Union.” Words that came so easily.
But Granddad shook his head, no hint of a jest in his eyes. “Only in words. Think of that unexplained delay in reopening the rail lines last year. Their ties to the land in Louisiana.”
Conversations between the Hugheses buzzed in her ears, images flashed. If she were to look at them in that light…but no, it couldn’t be. She shook it off. “Half the city likely belongs to the KGC.”
The two men exchanged a glance that made her want to grit her teeth again. Granddad nodded, and Walker moved onward, his pace quick.
Marietta held her cape closed and wished she had taken the time to grab gloves or a muff. Her fingers were at the painful place between chilled and numb. “What does this have to do with me?”
“You will see soon enough. First, answer me this. What color dress were you wearing on the fifteenth of May in eighteen fifty?”
Of all the random… “Yellow, but I don’t see what—”
“What is the first word on the third line on the second page of the fifth book upon the shelf in your room?”
He wanted to play games? Out here in the cold, in the smelly stables with that patronizing man? She lifted her chin. “I haven’t read the fifth book.”
“The fourth then.”
She shook her head and stared at Walker’s back when he stopped in the last stall and fooled with the hay. “It’s ‘yesterday,’ but I—”
“What was the eighth word I spoke to you the last time we had dinner?”
“ ‘This,’ though I can hardly think what—”
“Well, it’s time to think, Mari.” Granddad’s gaze combined sorrow with determination. “Time to use that mind of yours for something other than drawing room repartee. Your memory is perfect.”
Walker knelt down and slid aside a board.
Marietta waved a hand at Granddad’s words. “A parlor trick.”
“A gift of God.” He gripped her arm, a silent bid for her to look at him. Though when she saw the furor in his eyes, she wished she hadn’t. “You have perfect recall, beyond even your grandmother’s. Perhaps she can draw anything she sees, but you—your recollection extends to what you’ve heard, what you’ve done, when things happened. Do you not realize how rare that is? How special you are?”
Walker’s scoffing laugh gave her the urge to place her half boot upon his back and give him a nice little kick into… “What is that hole?” Her voice felt strangled, frozen.
“Come see.” Walker held out his hands, as if they were still children. As if she could trust him.
She took a step back. “If you think for even a moment that I will descend into some dank pit—”
“We have a very small window of time, Mari. Go.” Granddad’s hand on her back urged her onward.
But it was the glint of challenge in Walker’s eyes that made her huff over to him. She tamped down the shudder when he lowered her into the black, yawning space. Followed him with chin held high when Granddad handed down a lantern and brought up the rear.
A tunnel. They were in a tunnel that stretched toward her house. “What is this?”
“I didn’t want to bring you into this business, Mari.” Her grandfather’s voice echoed strangely off the timber walls. “When my parents passed the mantle of the Culpers to me, and then when I shared it with your father and uncles and Walker and Hez, there was always an understanding that we would shield the family who wanted no part of it. You. Ize. Most of your cousins. But we have no choice now.”