Read Online A Night of Horrors: A Historical Thriller about the 24 Hours of Lincoln's Assassination by John C. Berry - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: John C. Berry
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smirk on his lips. Lincoln looked at his pocket watch and saw that he had time to go to the War Department before the Cabinet Meeting. Lincoln grabbed a gray woolen shawl and tossed it over his shoulder. He smiled as he walked from his office, remembering the same story he thought of every time he pulled the shawl over his shoulder: his beloved Mary cajoling him to wear the shawl on his walks to the War Department because of the importance of his health. ‘If the nation is going to be saved by you, then you should remain healthy and alive in order to do it!’ As Lincoln walked down the steps and into the corridor on the first floor, he encountered two ladies that he did not know.
“Good morning, ladies,” he called to them. “I am Abraham Lincoln,” he introduced himself and shook their hands one at a time, as if he required an introduction.
“President Lincoln, I am Mrs. C. Dwight Hess and this is my sister-in-law, Helen Palmer Moss. We have come to the Executive Mansion to visit the Conservatory.” The ladies had just enjoyed a spring walk to the White House from the theater where they had exchanged pleasantries with John Wilkes Booth on the steps.
“Well it holds beautiful gardens. Madam, I most regret that Mrs. Lincoln and I cannot accept your husband’s kind offer to enjoy the show at the National Theatre tonight.”
“Yes, the message from Mrs. Lincoln arrived just as I was leaving. But we are pleased that your son Tad will be enjoying the show,” Mrs. Hess replied.
“I understand it is quite a crowd pleaser,” Lincoln smiled down on the ladies. “Shall I show you the way to the Conservatory?” He began to walk down the corridor and towards the west part of the mansion.
“Well, Mr. President, you must be very happy over the glorious news about the war?”
“Yes, madam, for the first time since this cruel war began, I can see my way clearly. By the way, have you seen my favorite lemon tree?” he asked as they walked into the conservatory. The bright sun showed through the glass panes of the building and created a wonderful warmth in the cool spring morning. Lincoln walked them over to his tree and picked a lemon for each of them and handed it to them with a mock formal bow. As he turned to leave, he asked the gardener to gather some flowers for them.
Since the conservatory was on the west lawn, Lincoln exited on the far side of the glass building and continued across the west lawn to the War Department. From the first days of the war, Lincoln had made two daily visits to the War Department, primarily the Telegraph Office, so he could gather the latest news on the war. During major campaigns and battles, he would often spend long hours hovering over the shoulders of the telegraphers awaiting news from his generals. He often paced the wooden floors with his hands behind his back, worrying and waiting. But on this Friday morning the birds were singing and the sun warmed the chill breeze. Lincoln made quite an impression as he walked across the west lawn with his long strides, wearing his stovepipe hat and formal suit, and covering it all with the gray shawl. Lincoln didn’t need the shawl as he was always a fast walker and the exercise tended to warm his body. But he found it much easier to toss the shawl over his shoulders and be done with it than to argue with his wife.
Lincoln quickly mounted the steps to the second floor of the War Department building and entered the Telegraph Office, hanging the shawl on a hook on the back of the door, placed there for this explicit purpose.
“Good mornin’, gentlemen,” he called as he walked over to the desk that held the latest telegraphs. He picked up a small stack of telegrams and scanned them quickly, hoping that Sherman had sent some news on Johnston and his army.
“Nothing from General Sherman, sir,” David Bates said, as he watched the President read the papers. Lincoln nodded and finished his reading.
“Well, gentlemen, I am down to
“Good morning, ladies,” he called to them. “I am Abraham Lincoln,” he introduced himself and shook their hands one at a time, as if he required an introduction.
“President Lincoln, I am Mrs. C. Dwight Hess and this is my sister-in-law, Helen Palmer Moss. We have come to the Executive Mansion to visit the Conservatory.” The ladies had just enjoyed a spring walk to the White House from the theater where they had exchanged pleasantries with John Wilkes Booth on the steps.
“Well it holds beautiful gardens. Madam, I most regret that Mrs. Lincoln and I cannot accept your husband’s kind offer to enjoy the show at the National Theatre tonight.”
“Yes, the message from Mrs. Lincoln arrived just as I was leaving. But we are pleased that your son Tad will be enjoying the show,” Mrs. Hess replied.
“I understand it is quite a crowd pleaser,” Lincoln smiled down on the ladies. “Shall I show you the way to the Conservatory?” He began to walk down the corridor and towards the west part of the mansion.
“Well, Mr. President, you must be very happy over the glorious news about the war?”
“Yes, madam, for the first time since this cruel war began, I can see my way clearly. By the way, have you seen my favorite lemon tree?” he asked as they walked into the conservatory. The bright sun showed through the glass panes of the building and created a wonderful warmth in the cool spring morning. Lincoln walked them over to his tree and picked a lemon for each of them and handed it to them with a mock formal bow. As he turned to leave, he asked the gardener to gather some flowers for them.
Since the conservatory was on the west lawn, Lincoln exited on the far side of the glass building and continued across the west lawn to the War Department. From the first days of the war, Lincoln had made two daily visits to the War Department, primarily the Telegraph Office, so he could gather the latest news on the war. During major campaigns and battles, he would often spend long hours hovering over the shoulders of the telegraphers awaiting news from his generals. He often paced the wooden floors with his hands behind his back, worrying and waiting. But on this Friday morning the birds were singing and the sun warmed the chill breeze. Lincoln made quite an impression as he walked across the west lawn with his long strides, wearing his stovepipe hat and formal suit, and covering it all with the gray shawl. Lincoln didn’t need the shawl as he was always a fast walker and the exercise tended to warm his body. But he found it much easier to toss the shawl over his shoulders and be done with it than to argue with his wife.
Lincoln quickly mounted the steps to the second floor of the War Department building and entered the Telegraph Office, hanging the shawl on a hook on the back of the door, placed there for this explicit purpose.
“Good mornin’, gentlemen,” he called as he walked over to the desk that held the latest telegraphs. He picked up a small stack of telegrams and scanned them quickly, hoping that Sherman had sent some news on Johnston and his army.
“Nothing from General Sherman, sir,” David Bates said, as he watched the President read the papers. Lincoln nodded and finished his reading.
“Well, gentlemen, I am down to
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