Bones frowned at the mention of his given name.
“Uriah, huh? Guy with that name joining the Navy has got to think every now and then about disobeying an order.”
Bones laughed, knowing the guy was referring to the biblical Uriah whom King David ordered to the front lines of battle so he would be killed and David could possess Uriah’s wife, Bathsheba. “It’s been known to happen. Most people call me Bones.”
“A fitting name. People around here just call me Gunny.”
Dane figured if ever anyone seemed like a Gunny, it was this old marine. “We’re looking for information related to the Marshall family who lived in Hamiltonban around the time of the Battle of Gettysburg.”
Several pairs of eyes exchanged glances. Gunny didn’t display any reaction, but he took an extra moment before answering. “Hamiltonban. The Marshalls were a prominent family in the town in the nineteenth century. I’m not sure I can tell you any more than that. What exactly are you looking for?”
Dane looked at Bones, who gave an imperceptible shrug of the shoulders. Dane didn’t mind sharing information, but he didn’t want to sound crazy, either. He’d leave out anything about people trying to kill them.
“We’re looking for a document associated with Edmund Randolph, and we found a couple of clues that suggest it may have last been with the Marshall family around the time of Gettysburg. Possibly tied to a family named Hawthorne as well. We’re trying to maybe track down the properties they lived on, or even some ancestors.”
Gunny looked up for a second and then returned his gaze to Dane. “I get the feeling you boys aren’t telling this old marine the full truth.”
Dane’s gaze didn’t waver. “We may have left one or two things out. Circumstances have forced this research on us, and we’d prefer to have it impact as few people as possible.”
“Tell you what, son. I won’t go so far as to say I trust you, but in my line of work you learn to judge a lot of things in a hurry. I don’t think you’re likely to use information to hurt people who shouldn’t be hurt. There’s a guy who often comes in here, much older than me, he knows more about Hamiltonban than any man living. I can give him a call, though you may be waiting a bit. He doesn’t move the way he used to.”
Gunny whipped out a cell phone and dialed a number, turning away from Dane and Bones as he did. Bones leaned over to Dane and spoke in a low voice. “If even Gunny here has a cell phone, you and I have got to get with the times.”
“We spend all our time training except for the occasional leave. It’d be a waste.”
“What about the time we spend getting shot at by the Sons of the Republic?”
Gunny’s voice broke in. “If you ladies are done gabbing, you’re in luck. His grand-daughter says he left half an hour ago, so he should be here any minute. Pull up a couple chairs and tell us all what the squids are doing these days to make themselves feel more like marines.”
Dane found that despite giving lip service to the traditional marine superiority in all things, the old soldier listened respectfully to their stories about SEAL training. He nodded and laughed at Bones’ more colorful anecdotes.
“Men don’t change much. Maybe on the surface things are different, but change a few details and that could have been me sixty years ago. By the way, it looks like our friend is here.”
The ancient man hobbling towards them moved as if trying to lose a race with molasses. He leaned heavily on a cane in his right hand. When he reached a chair, he spent nearly a minute lowering himself into a seated position. Only then did he look up at Dane and Bones.
“Who’re you?”
Dane said, “Gunny here told us you were the man to talk to about the history of Hamiltonban.”
“Has that old fool been telling tales again? Ah well, I might remember a thing or three about the place. What do you say, Gunny?”
Gunny sounded respectful. “It’s up to you, Mort. These boys might not be the worst scoundrels to drag their ugly carcasses through that door.”
“High praise from the likes of you.” Mort looked at Dane. “What do you want to know?”
Dane repeated the information about the Marshalls and a document associated with Edmund Randolph. Mort scratched his chin. “Hmmm.”
He sat there unmoving for so long that Dane wondered if he had fallen asleep. Or worse. Eventually, though, he responded.
“Takes a while to access the memory banks these days. I remember something I heard from my grandfather when I was younger than you are now and he was older than Gunny here. Haven’t thought about that in a long time.”
He adjusted himself in the chair. “Small towns, you see, they have secrets. Back then even more. Some of the things that happened and no one ever heard about, well they probably wouldn’t stay hidden today. My grandfather loved to tell stories and I never knew how much was real. I’ll tell you the story and you do with it what you want.
“There were several Marshalls in town in the middle of the 19th century. Well respected folk, one was even a Senator. They had the occasional illegitimate branch of the family tree, though. It wasn’t uncommon, but unlike today it was something you didn’t make public.
“What my grandfather told me was that there was a conflict between one of the Marshalls and an outside family called Hawthorne. That name is what jogged my memory. Anyway, supposedly there was a big argument in the middle of town and the next day, Marshall’s house burned to the ground. Can’t remember his first name, maybe began with a ‘T.’
“They didn’t find any bodies in the fire, but neither he nor Hawthorne was ever heard from again. One of the elder Marshalls managed to keep any mention of the fire or the disappearance out of the newspaper. As time went by, there was sort of an unwritten rule not to talk about it except in hushed tones and not at all to outsiders. My grandfather said that folks from time to time swore they heard ghosts on the old property, which was why he told me the story in the first place.”
A faraway smile crossed Mort’s face. “Grandfather did love his ghost tales.”
Dane allowed him a moment and then said, “That’s a great story. It sounds like it must have its origin in what we’ve found so far. Any idea when this took place?”
A shake of the head from Mort. “He never said. It was always about the storytelling, not that kind of detail. After the war, of that I’m sure.”
Bones said, “Any idea where the property was that burned down?”
Mort raised his eyebrows. “That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it. All grandfather said was out by the start of the river. Probably means somewhere near the headwaters of the Chesapeake where the nature preserve is now. It can’t be in the nature preserve itself or someone would have found the ruins. There are maps from that era you could look at in the library. Not sure if that would help, as they tried to erase all record of it, like I said. It was easier to do back then.”
All at once, Mort looked tired and feeling all of however many years he had under his belt. Bones walked over to him and shook his hand. “That information is really helpful. By the way, what branch of the service were you in?”
Mort narrowed his eyes. “Navy of course, just like you. Only branch that pulls its own weight, though I admit Gunny’s people occasionally come through when the chips are down.”
Gunny let out a guffaw, which somehow seemed inconsistent with the image Dane had formed of him. “You boys may be about to witness some real combat.”
Dane took a step back and put up his hands in surrender. “We really appreciate your help. We’ll let you get on with your day.”
“On with our day? Are you kidding, we’ll be talking about your visit for weeks.”
“Months,” said Mort.