“Hardly at all. He was a quiet man. I wonder what was in his mind.”
“There would be sentries on the bridge that crosses Columbia Canal. I can only think he must have gone mad.”
“If he went that way he wasn’t heading north. He must have been thinking of Beaufort, if he was thinking at all.”
Captain Senn came out of the jail. A soldier was with him, carrying a pasteboard box.
Senn raised his voice. “Army prisoners come here.”
The men gathered around. “You have heard by now,” Senn said, “that one of your number tried to escape. He was shot. He should have been shot. It will serve as a lesson to you not to be foolish when you leave the prison under guard. The soldier who shot this man said he wasn’t shooting to kill. I told him it is the duty of a prison guard to shoot an escaping man. I told him I would have shot the man myself. I would not hesitate to shoot one of you. Not at all.” He fingered the pistol that hung at his side and smiled his frostbitten smile. “And now there are better things to talk about. In this box we have some mail.”
The soldier reached for the letters one at a time and called out names. There was a letter for Jones. Senn snatched the letter. Red’s name was called. Red took his letter and turned away. Tim heard his own name called.
He reached for the letter and saw that it was addressed in Kate’s fine hand. His hands trembled as he turned it over several times, then tucked it into his inside pocket.
When the mail had been distributed Senn cleared his throat. “Three of you are lucky. Bradford, Brown and Frazer received money in the mail. We have a system now.” He frowned. “To prevent illegal exchange. I give you printed slips. You fill them out. These authorize our quartermaster to convert your money to Confederate currency at Government rates. The quartermaster keeps the money in his care....”
As Senn droned on, Tim lost the hope of ever seeing his cash. He heard Senn’s words again, “... but the sutler won’t come to the jail as he did before. You will give your requests for goods to Corporal Addison or me, and the wagon will deliver your things to the jail. A list of goods and prices has been posted by the door at the end of your corridor.”