Keeping Secrets (16 page)

“Thanks, Ma.” Peg scooted from her chair, bent to kiss Ma’s forehead, and headed for the stairs.

“What’s this about her knees?” she heard John ask, but Peg was in her room before Ma began her explanation.

Snuggled under her warm quilt and ignoring the sting of her skinned knees, Peg tried to sort out her thoughts. Miss Hennessey had said that she now had the information she needed. Although she hadn’t admitted that James had brought it to her, he was the one whom she’d met in the alley.

Peg was sure that the Union spy who’d been hanged was James. And she was equally sure that Miss Hennessey would try to leave St. Joe as soon as possible.

She wouldn’t travel at night. That would be much too dangerous. But come morning light, she’d probably leave, heading for Nellie and Louis Parker’s house on River Road.

Without Peg.

Peg gave a little moan. Miss Hennessey had promised: “I’ll never ask you to travel with me again.” But she’d be in danger traveling alone. Peg had no idea what information she was bringing the Union officer. Maybe it was a spoken message. But maybe, since the information was so important, it was written down. With a young companion she could seem to be just a mother traveling with a daughter. But if she were alone, she’d be vulnerable to being stopped and searched.

Peg groaned, stuffing the edge of the quilt into her mouth to stifle the sound.
I can’t desert her. I can’t let her travel alone. What should I do?

She thought again about Mike, who had gone into battle, risking his life for the Union. She thought about Frances Mary, who had bravely smuggled runaway slaves into Canada. And she thought about Danny, who was so eager to help his country.

Peg had told Danny, “There are other ways to help the Union besides fighting.” And here was one of those ways—dropped right into her lap. She could be every bit as brave as her brothers and sisters and ride with Miss Hennessey, helping her to get her important information to the Union Army. All she had to do was plan a way to make it happen.

Tossing and squirming from side to side on sheets that had been pulled out and rumpled, Peg wondered how she could possibly work out a plan. If she explained everything to Ma, she’d have a fit and keep Peg home, safely under her care. So she couldn’t tell Ma. Although Peg had hated keeping secrets from Ma, she still had done it; but under no circumstances would she deliberately deceive Ma. What was she going to do?

Exhausted, she finally slipped from bed and quietly opened her bedroom door. The house was dark and quiet, except for the rhythmic rumble of John Murphy’s snoring.

Peg gently closed the door, made her way to the small desk in her room, and lit the oil lamp. From a drawer she pulled a sheet of paper. She fitted a pen-point into its holder, and opened a bottle of ink. She’d write to Ma. So very much had happened—enough to fill pages—but she’d tell Ma all the important things, at
least. And she’d tell her where she had gone, so early in the morning.

Ma would find the letter when Peg didn’t appear downstairs, but by that time Peg was sure that she and Miss Hennessey would be on their way.

Peg bent over the paper, writing quickly, but dipping the pen carefully so drops of ink wouldn’t blot her letter. She had written most of what she wanted to say when the door suddenly opened, and there stood Ma, clutching her wrapper together over her flannel nightgown. Startled, Peg dropped the pen.

“What are you doing?” Ma asked.

“I—I’m writing a letter.”

“There’s something very much the matter, Peg. What is it?”

Peg jumped up from her chair, ran to Ma, and wrapped her arms around her. As Ma hugged her in return, Peg’s brave resolutions vanished, and she tucked her face into Ma’s shoulder, not even trying to stop her tears.

Holding tightly, Ma guided Peg to the bed, where they sat side by side, Ma gently murmuring, snuggling, and patting, until Peg’s tears turned into dry shudders and sobs.

“There now, love,” Ma said. “The storm is over. Can we talk about what has upset you so much?”

“Oh, Ma,” Peg said. “I wish the war was over.”

“As do we all,” Ma answered. “Is it the tales John brings home that are frightening you?”

Peg nodded. “That and the awful thing that happened to the spy … and … all of it.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. I don’t. I can’t. Not right now.”

Here she was, keeping things from Ma again, just what she didn’t want to do. But Peg reminded herself
that when Ma read the letter in the morning, everything would be explained. It wasn’t as though she were lying to Ma. She was just delaying in telling her what had happened and what was going to happen.

“What were you writing?” Ma asked, startling Peg so much that she jumped.

“A letter,” Peg answered.

Ma’s arms were firm and strong, and she gave Peg an extra hug. “I understand,” she said. “Sometimes it’s easier to put thoughts down on paper or talk them over with a sister than with anyone else. Well, if you’re writing to Frances and Megan, give them my love.”

Peg didn’t try to explain. She didn’t even have enough strength to fight the guilt that crawled up and down her backbone like one of Marcus’s squirmy, slimy bugs.

“I’ll smooth your bed, tuck you in, and turn out the light,” Ma said. “It’s best you sleep now and finish your letter in the morning before going to school.”

Peg complied, the dark of the room stealing over her like an extra, cozy blanket. Drained of all thoughts and feelings, Peg immediately dropped into sleep.

But she woke early, before it was light, her body recharged and her mind racing.

It took just a line or two to finish the letter to Ma, and Peg propped it against her pillow. She dressed, wincing as she pulled her heavy cotton stockings over the raw spots on her knees. She pulled on her coat, tucked a shawl over her head and shoulders, and quietly climbed down the stairs, leaving the house through the front door.

Peg hurried as fast as she could, picking her way over holes and puddles and nervously jumping at sudden cricks and snicks in the darkness, until she reached Mrs. Kling’s boardinghouse. The sky was lightening
into a pearl-edged gray, so Peg recognized the boarder who came out of Mrs. Kling’s front door as she approached it.

“Good morning,” he said, stopping in front of her. “You’re Miss Hennessey’s young friend, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Peg said. “I came to see her.”

“Well, you won’t find her here,” he volunteered. “She left for the stables a few minutes ago.”

“The stables?” Peg felt sick with dread. After all her planning, had she missed her?

The boarder smiled again. “Off to visit her sister, she said. But if you hurry, I’m sure you can catch up.”

Heedless of the uneven cobblestones, the rubbish that littered the streets, and the pain in her knees, Peg ran as fast as she could in the direction of the stables. She had to catch up with Miss Hennessey! She had to!

As Peg rounded the corner a horse and buggy clipclopped toward her, and she saw that Miss Hennessey was holding the reins. Arms waving like windmills, Peg brought the buggy to a stop, then scrambled inside.

Miss Hennessey’s eyes were wide with surprise. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going with you,” Peg said. She settled herself, pulling her shawl more tightly around her.

“You can’t.”

Peg shook her head. “The man who was … hanged. It was James, wasn’t it?”

Miss Hennessey nodded, and for the first time, in the thin early light, Peg saw that her eyes were red and swollen.

“You told me you had important information to give to the Union officer you work with,” Peg said. “I’m here to help. We both know that you’re less likely to be stopped and questioned if I’m with you.”

“I’m not returning to St. Joe,” Miss Hennessey said quietly. “You’d have no way to get back.”

“I wrote to Ma. I told her only as much as she needed to know, and I told her I’d be making the trip with you. She’ll come after me.”

As Miss Hennessey hesitated, Peg said, “You can’t just stay here. You have to leave quickly. Let’s go.”

Miss Hennessey gave a flip to the reins, and the horse started up. The day was cold and gray, with no hope of sunshine, and the early winter light seemed to pick and probe at broken bricks, holes in the streets, and boarded-up windows in shops from which owners had fled.

Peg shivered. “Do the bushwhackers who killed James know he had given information to you?”

“If they knew,” Miss Hennessey said slowly, “I think they would have come to Mrs. Kling’s to get me.”

“Yes,” Peg said with a sigh of relief. “I think so, too.”

But Miss Hennessey turned to face Peg. The fear that tightened the muscles around her mouth and widened her eyes leaped like a spark into Peg’s heart, squeezing it with a cold hand.

“On the other hand, they may have been chased off by the Union patrols in and around St. Joe,” she whispered. “Do they know about me? I really can’t be sure.”

15
 

T
HEY MET A
Union patrol just a short distance from St. Joe—one that had stopped them before. The young corporal nodded in recognition, waving away Miss Hennessey’s attempt to show him her letter of safe passage.

“Ma’am,” he said, “I doubt that you heard about the hanging last night.”

Neither Miss Hennessey nor Peg responded, so he added, “Up here in northern Missouri we’ve had little problem with bushwhackers for months now, but last night a group of about a half dozen of ’em invaded St. Joe. Unless they rode straight off to the south, they’re almost bound to be somewhere in this vicinity.”

“I’m on my way to visit my sister,” Miss Hennessey said softly.

“Yes, ma’am. Could you tell me again where that might be?”

“She lives on River Road, not too far from here.”

He looked at his men, then gave a nod. “We’ll ride with you a ways.”

“Oh, thank you!” Miss Hennessey said and sighed with relief.

“Our pleasure, ma’am.”

Peg didn’t dare to turn around as the soldiers guided their horses, with a clatter and jingle, into position behind the buggy; but she whispered to Miss Hennessey, “Those are the soldiers who went through the things Ennie sent Ma, but this time they didn’t search. They didn’t even ask to look through your carpetbags.”

“Because the carpetbags aren’t with me. I brought nothing with me.”

With effort Peg kept herself from craning her neck to stare into the backseat of the buggy. “That means you’re going back to St. Joe?”

“No. It means that later I’ll send payment to Mrs. Kling for what remains of my room rent and for the cost of shipping my belongings to me.”

“But when she packs she’ll find out you’re an—” Peg clapped her hands over her mouth.

“An actress? Yes. But I’ll have left her with a fine, shocking story to tell. It’s a fair exchange.”

“Where will you go?” Peg asked.

“You know I can’t tell you that.”

Peg was silent for a moment. Then she said, “But someday will you write to me and tell me where you are? Someday when the war’s over?”

“Yes.” Miss Hennessey looked down at Peg and smiled. “When the war’s over, I will.”

They were close to the turn-off at River Road,
when the corporal let out a loud halloo, waved at Miss Hennessey, and led his men back toward St. Joseph.

“I’ll take you to the Swensons’ and to Danny,” Miss Hennessey said. “This is where we’ll say goodbye.”

“Until ‘someday,’ ” Peg said.

“Yes. Until ‘someday.’ ” Miss Hennessey pulled the horse to a stop and squeezed Peg’s hand. “You
did
help me by coming. I’ll never forget your kindness and bravery.”

“I wasn’t brave,” Peg said. “I was awfully scared.”

“You were brave,” Miss Hennessey said firmly. “Now, hurry in. Ennie spotted us from the window, and I don’t have time to talk. I have to reach Nellie and Louis as fast as possible.”

Peg jumped from the buggy and watched Miss Hennessey drive back to the road. She could see the turn-off where the buggy disappeared among the trees as though it had never existed.

“Well, I swan!” Ennie cried as she scurried out the door and off the back stoop. “Where’s she off to so fast, without even so much as a good morning?”

“She’s in a terrible hurry,” Peg said.

The indignation in Ennie’s eyes was replaced by an open curiosity. “Is it her brother-in-law? The fever hasn’t returned, has it? All we’ve heard around here is that he was well on the way to mending.”

Peg shrugged. “Where’s Danny?” she asked. “Is he in school?”

“It’s where he should be, rightly enough, if it weren’t for that cough of his. Land sakes, I’ve tried everything I know, and it still hangs on, so he’s down in bed, and that’s where you’ll find him.” Her attention now on Danny, Ennie led Peg to the house, chatting all the way.

But Peg stopped at the back door, gazing back
toward River Road. Something had moved among the trees. Or had it? She stared, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. She must have imagined it.

Peg ran up the stairs toward Danny’s room, but entered her old room first. Her window looked out on River Road, whereas Danny’s window view was blocked by a tree. Peg stood motionless, partly hidden by the curtain, her eyes on the road. Within a few minutes she saw a rider come up the road and continue until he was out of sight. But soon after him came another rider—a large, heavyset man—who made the turn toward the Parkers’ farmhouse.