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Authors: Joan Lowery Nixon

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BOOK: Keeping Secrets
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“Now that you’ve heard about our family, why don’t you tell us something about yours?” Ma asked Miss Hennessey. “Were you staying with family in Lawrence?”

“No. I stayed only briefly in Lawrence and not with family. My family is from Boston,” Miss Hennessey said into her teacup.

“Are they still there?”

“No. Not any longer.” Her voice so faint Peg could scarcely hear her, Miss Hennessey said, “It’s all too fresh, too painful to talk about.”

“I’m sorry,” Ma said. She glanced at the clock, jumped to her feet, and busied herself with scraping carrots at the drainboard. As an afterthought she looked over her shoulder toward Peg. “Best get to your sums, my little love.”

“I will, Ma,” Peg answered, unable to completely hide her aggravation at being reminded.

Miss Hennessey smiled at Peg. “I’m sure you’re very good at your studies.”

“Fairly good, I guess,” Peg answered modestly.

“I could tell. I know you must do well in all your subjects. Do you like history?”

“Not really,” Peg admitted. “I hate having to memorize names and dates.”

Miss Hennessey nodded sympathetically. “I suppose that names and dates will always have to be memorized, but history should be interesting. History is about people and the fine things they’ve done and the mistakes they’ve made. History is a collection of exciting stories. Don’t you agree?”

“I guess so,” Peg answered. It hadn’t occurred to her to think of history in those terms.

“For example, I know some interesting stories about the childhood and background of President Abraham Lincoln. Perhaps after supper tonight you might like to hear them.”

“Yes. Thank you.” Peg smiled at Miss Hennessey and reached for her schoolbooks. She was surprised at what a nice person Miss Hennessey had turned out to be. Maybe she had been wrong in having a few misgivings about her.

4
 

O
VER THE NEXT
few days Violet Hennessey became not just a nice person in Peg’s mind, but a friend.

Ma never failed to remind Peg of perfectly obvious things Peg had planned to do anyway: “It’s breezy out, Peg, so take a shawl.”

“Don’t forget to tidy your room before you leave for school.”

“Remember to study your spelling, love. Last week you lost out in the final round of the spelling bee because you misspelled the word Miss Thomas gave you.”

But Miss Hennessey treated Peg as if she were another adult: “Your muffins are delicious. I would love to have the receipt.”

“I’ve heard that President Lincoln is considering a proclamation that would create a national holiday of
Thanksgiving on the last Thursday in November. How do you feel about this, Peg? Do you think a holiday like this would be successfully observed—especially during this time of war?”

“Oh, Peg! I have a delicious story to share with you. Last spring that circus man, John P. Barnam’s star attraction, General Tom Thumb, who is only thirty-five inches tall was married to Miss Lavinia Warren, who is a scant thirty-two inches tall! Well … a friend of mine who attended wrote at the time that the bride’s dress was quite expensive but overly flounced and …”

Peg, who bridled at her mother’s continual advice, luxuriated in feeling almost grown-up when she was with Miss Hennessey.

On the third day of Miss Hennessey’s stay Ma, who felt that fresh air was important to good health, suggested that Peg take Miss Hennessey walking.

To Peg’s surprise, Miss Hennessey seemed eager to walk, and as they left the house she said, “I understand there is a delightful overlook above the Missouri River. Could we walk there?”

“Oh, yes,” Peg said. “There’s a little woods, and a winding path and wildflowers in the spring. It’s one of my favorite places.”

Eagerly she led the way, but she was puzzled when Miss Hennessey’s attention turned to the woods and not to the wide view of the river.

The next day, when Peg returned from school, Ma was alone in the kitchen.

Peg snatched a cold biscuit left over from breakfast, stuffed a large bite into her mouth, and asked, “Where’s Miss Hennessey?”

“Out walking,” Ma told her, “and don’t talk with your mouth full.”

“I’ll catch up with her,” Peg said and was through the door before Ma could answer.

She looked to the right and the left, but Miss Hennessey wasn’t in sight.
The woods
, Peg thought, remembering Miss Hennessey’s interest, and she hurried in that direction, taking a familiar shortcut through some unfenced property.

Although there was still no sign of Miss Hennessey, Peg entered the woods, shivering a little in the damp shade. The smell of decaying leaves underfoot tingled her nose, and she stopped to take a deep breath. The woods were silent, with not even the rustle of small animals or chirps of birds. Had she got here before Miss Hennessey?

From the corner of her eye Peg saw a sudden movement farther inside the thick grove of trees, and she ran toward it, the soft spongy floor of mulch swallowing the sound of her footsteps.

“Miss Hennessey?” she called, but stopped short as a man stepped from behind a tree and glared at her. He was beardless, with long, dark hair that curled to his shoulders; and he wore a butternut-colored shirt that looked much like a Western plainsman’s coat. His right hand moved toward the pistol that was thrust into his belt and rested on the polished butt.

The man’s shirt frightened Peg more than his revolver. Although many westerners wore this type of shirt, it was well known that Quantrill’s guerrillas had adopted the design as a kind of special uniform that set them apart.

“But they’re Confederates,” Peg had said to John Murphy, who had shown her the drawing in the newspaper. “Why don’t they wear the Confederate Army uniform?”

“They may call themselves a unit of the Confederate
Army,” he’d answered, “but they’re nothing more than a bunch of lawless brigands. They’d never have been able to gain the power they hold if it weren’t that so many of them are Missouri boys, protected and hidden out, when need be, by their families and friends.”

The guerrilla spoke, breaking into Peg’s thoughts. “What are you doing here?”

Peg was so frightened it was hard for her to speak. “I—I was l-looking for Miss Hennessey.”

His gaze shot nervously to the left and the right. “Who’s Miss Hennessey?”

Peg’s stomach clutched as she realized she had told this man the name of her friend. She had to leave this place. She had to warn Miss Hennessey away.

“I’m going home,” Peg said and took a step backward.

He shook his head and slid the pistol from his belt. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Off to one side Miss Hennessey suddenly stepped into view. “Put your gun away, sir. She’s only a child,” she said.

“Else …,” the man began, his eyes widening in surprise.

“ ’Else what?” Miss Hennessey interrupted. “Don’t threaten us, sir. We mean you no harm.”

The man looked confused, but he did as Miss Hennessey had told him. He sucked in his stomach and slid his pistol under his leather belt.

“You’re traveling, and you’re hungry,” she said. Her gaze was sharp as she stared at him. “You need food. Is that right?”

“Yes,” he growled. He paused a moment, then scowled at Peg. “One of you will have to go for food. The other will stay with me.”

“No!” Peg blurted out.

“It’s all right, Peg.” Miss Hennessey rested a hand on Peg’s trembling arm. “He wants to make sure you’ll return with the food and without informing any authorities.”

“Me?”

“Yes. Get some food from home without attracting attention. Bring some bread and cheese. Your mother has some fall apples at hand.”

Peg balked. “Come with me. I don’t want to leave you here alone with him. He has a gun.”

“He won’t harm me. Go, please. Now.”

Peg turned and ran through the edge of the woods, but she stopped, once outside the cluster of trees. Below the cliff the mud-colored Missouri river ran swiftly, eddying around the small craft that navigated against the flow. Pressing a hand against her chest, as if she could stop the frantic pounding of her heart, Peg tried to calm down and think.

The man was one of Quantrill’s raiders. Peg was sure of it. Miss Hennessey had been very brave in sending Peg away and staying behind as a hostage, but it was obvious she didn’t know this was one of Quantrill’s men or she might have been frightened into one of her faints.

As Peg thought about the terrible deaths these bushwhackers caused—deaths of loyal Union men—her face flushed with a hot anger. The raider who was keeping Miss Hennessey hostage didn’t deserve the food he demanded. He deserved only to be stopped and arrested. But it would take too long to go for help.

Peg knew these woods. She came here often with May to play hide-and-seek, then flop on the grass to watch the bustle of activity on the river landing below. If she cut around to the east and came up behind the raider … So frightened that her hands shook, Peg
picked up a fist-sized rock and silently entered again the grove of trees. Could she stop him? Would she be able to?

“I
have
to,” Peg whispered aloud.

She quietly slipped through the woods, sidling from tree to tree, until in the distance she could see the Reb, whose back was to her. He was tall, and his shoulders were broad, so at first she couldn’t spot Miss Hennessey. More frightened than ever, Peg dropped to a crouch and worked her way behind some bushes to one side.

She gasped when she was finally able to get a good look at Miss Hennessey. She and the raider were standing close together, intently involved in a conversation Peg was too far away to hear.

Miss Hennessey laid a hand on the raider’s arm, her fingers stroking his sleeve, and smiled up into his eyes. He bent toward her, but her hands slid to his shoulders, holding him off. “Go,” she said, so plainly that Peg could read her lips. “Hurry.”

The raider took a few steps, then turned and called back, “I should have word soon.”

“I’ll be ready,” Miss Hennessey said.

Peg slid back behind the trunk of the nearest tree, afraid to breathe until the man had plenty of time to leave the area. But as she waited, her fear turned to anger. Miss Hennessey said she had run from Quantrill’s raiders, yet here she was on very friendly terms with one of them.

She deceived me!
Peg fumed.
She had planned to meet him here. Sending me for food was only a ruse to get me out of the way!
Peg slammed the stone to the ground and ran heedlessly into the woods where Miss Hennessey still stood—waiting for Peg to return with the food, no doubt.

“Everything’s all right, Peg dear,” Miss Hennessey called as soon as she spotted Peg. “He’s gone.” She looked from Peg’s empty hands to her scowling face. “You didn’t bring food,” she murmured.

“No, I didn’t. That man was one of Quantrill’s raiders. I recognized the shirt.” Accusingly, Peg added, “I couldn’t leave you alone with him so I picked up a rock and cut through the woods from a different direction.”

Miss Hennessey interrupted by hugging Peg so tightly it was hard enough to breathe, let alone talk. “You darling girl!” she cried. “You tried to save my life!”

Peg, still angry, struggled to free herself. “I didn’t need to, did I? I saw the way you looked at him.”

Miss Hennessey, a woebegone expression on her face, dropped her arms. “Now you realize why I have been reluctant to speak about my family, and why I was in Lawrence. James is my cousin. Until recently, he and his family lived near the Missouri-Kansas border in Independence. But poor James’s father and uncle were tragically murdered, their home burned, and their property stolen by a Union patrol, simply because they refused to take sides against their neighbors and friends. James escaped and ran to join the bushwhackers, giving his allegiance to the Confederates. I came to find him, to beg him to reconsider, to remember our family’s loyalty to the Union.”

A tear rolled down her cheek, and she gave a little sob. “But my pleading did no good. James wouldn’t listen.”

Shocked at the story and embarrassed by her previous anger, Peg stammered, “Y-you planned to meet him here. How? When?”

Miss Hennessey pulled a cotton handkerchief from
her sleeve and pressed it against her eyes. “James sent word to me that Lawrence would be sacked. He told me to make my way to St. Joseph where he’d get in touch with me.”

“How did he find you?”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“I heard him tell you that he’d soon have word, and you said you’d be ready. What did you mean?”

“This is a family matter, Peg. I can’t explain everything to you. It’s been difficult enough to tell you about James’s defection to the Confederates.”

“I’m just trying to understand,” Peg said. “You told us that you were afraid of Quantrill’s raiders.”

“Oh, I am!” Miss Hennessey cried. “I am firmly convinced that Quantrill is mad, and his madness is infecting his men. I can see heartbreaking changes in my cousin. James was once a gentle, caring man, but alas …” She shuddered. “You can see how desperately I needed to meet with him, to try to get him to change his ways before he leaves with Quantrill and will be too far away for me to try to influence him. You do understand now, don’t you, Peg?”

BOOK: Keeping Secrets
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