The Women Spies Series 1-3

by Sergeant, Kit

  “Will you send word if you have to leave?” Belle asked, hoping to have a place in the general’s thoughts.

  “Indeed I will, but you must hasten back home now. God bless you,” he said again.

  On the way back to Martinsburg, Belle saw a young soldier painfully stumbling along the road on bare feet. She quickly removed her own leather ankle boots and handed them down to him.

  “You’re wasting your pretty boots,” another soldier called. “We won’t be pullin’ them off his dead body to send them back to ya.”

  Belle glared at the speaker. “If my shoes rest his poor young feet only a little while, I am repaid.” She turned back to the boy. “You’re not old enough to be away from your mother.”

  “Yes’m,” the boy replied. He held up the boots and grinned. “Thank ye, miss.”

  Belle rode the rest of the way home barefoot.

  A few days later, Belle received a letter from Stonewall Jackson, telling her that Martinsburg was no longer safe for her. He advised her to go visit family further South, signing his letter, “Truly your friend, TJ Jackson.” Belle heeded his advice and left for Knoxville.

  Chapter 50

  Loreta

  October 1862

  Soon after Loreta arrived in Richmond, General Winder declared that he was placing the city under martial law. He forbade liquor to be sold, and residents were forced to give up their weapons. He employed a group of men, who quickly became known as Winder’s Plug Uglies, to enforce his laws.

  While Loreta was mostly unaffected by these new circumstances, she chafed at life as a housewife. The Richmonders had heard of her arrest and refused to socialize with her, fearing the Plug Uglies would accuse them of being a suspicious person. Consequently, Loreta was relentlessly bored.

  Tom’s letters were her only solace. He was posted in Corinth under General Braxton Bragg. At first his descriptions made her miss the action of a soldier’s life even more, but his later writing took on a bitter tone. The recently passed amendment to the Conscription Act, or as Tom called it, the Twenty-Slave Law, had created a lot of tension among the Confederate soldiers, who began referring to the conflict dividing the nation as a “rich man’s war, poor man’s fight.” The conscripted soldiers, forced to battle when they had no wish to do so, were deserting every day. Those that were caught were whipped and sometimes even shot. Tom called General Bragg an “inhumane tyrant,” complaining that none of the soldiers ever had enough to eat and coffee and whiskey had been outlawed. The last letter Tom sent related that the Yankees were advancing toward Corinth and he was worried because the starved troops were in no condition to fight.

  And then everything went silent. After not hearing from him for a few weeks, Loreta tried to make inquiries with the Richmond authorities as to her husband’s whereabouts, but could not get any information.

  When a uniformed soldier appeared on her doorstep one afternoon, Loreta’s heart leapt into her throat. She invited him in with trepidation, expecting him to tell her that Tom was dead. As the soldier opened his mouth to speak, it seemed to Loreta that time slowed down.

  “I’m sorry?” Loreta asked. “Can you repeat that?”

  “I am here to place you under arrest.”

  It took a moment for Loreta to reset her brain. When she finally replied, it felt as though her mouth was full of sawdust. “Whatever for?”

  “You have been accused of being an alien enemy.”

  “But I’ve just recently arrived in Richmond.”

  “Exactly.”

  As the soldier escorted her to the headquarters of the provost marshal, Loreta figured it was just a simple misunderstanding. General Winder was out, so Loreta pleaded with his assistant, playing on the fact that she was an innocent woman.

  The assistant marshal laughed. “That’s not what I’ve heard, Mrs. De Caulp. Or should I refer to you as Lieutenant Buford?”

  Shocked, Loreta sat back, realizing her fate had been sealed.

  They sent her to Castle Thunder. The man in charge there was Captain Alexander, a well-toned brute who had the reputation of favoring prisoners who had the means to bribe him. After introducing herself to the captain, Loreta cooed over his black bloodhound, bending over to pet him.

  “His name’s Nero,” Alexander told her, pride obvious in his voice.

  “He’s very charming,” Loreta said, straightening and surreptitiously wiping her hands on her skirts. “Now, Captain, I’m here to see about arranging for the finest prison suite you have.”

  “I think it can be arranged… for the right price.” Alexander held out his hand.

  Loreta turned away, feigning deep anguish. “You don’t understand. My husband’s missing, and I am but a poor woman.”

  “And a suspected traitor,” Alexander added.

  “Oh, but sir, that is not true. In fact, I’ve risked my life multiple times for the cause.” She relayed her story, from living through moments of near-death on the battlefield, to being a courier in New Orleans, to nearly losing the man she loved.

  Captain Alexander finally relented and gave Loreta a private cell. He also granted her permission to roam the prison freely. The first full day she was there, she received an invitation to Alexander’s “citizens’ room.” She entered it to find a sort of game room, complete with second-hand billiard and card tables. She strolled to an empty chair at a poker table and told the dealer to cut her in.

  “With what money?” he replied.

  Loreta took off her boot and emptied it on the table. A few Confederate dollars and coins came out. She shoved one of the coins into the center of the table and glared at the man who spoke.

  He shoved his unruly blonde hair out of his eyes before reaching a thin arm across the table. “Charles Dunham.”

  She shook his hand with a touch of Harry’s finesse. “Loreta De Caulp.”

  He pointed his thumb at the other men and introduced them before asking why she was there.

  “I’m not sure,” she said, picking up her cards. “It could be any number of reasons.” She used the down time in between raising and calling to repeat the story she’d told Captain Alexander.

  “Where is your husband now?” Dunham asked when she’d finished.

  Loreta looked down at her cards and frowned. “I believe he is dead. His injuries were the type that would have slowed him in battle.” She shoved the rest of her dollars to the middle of the table. “Raise.”

  “What was his name?” Dunham asked. He furtively reassembled his cards before putting them face down on the table. “I have a lot of connections and can make some inquiries as to his fate when I am finally released.”

  “Captain Thomas De Caulp.”

  Loreta watched his lips move as he repeated the name. He looked at his cards again and then sprinkled his own coins into the pile. “I’ll see you and raise you ten more.”

  The only other player left in his game put his cards down. “Too rich for my blood.”

  Loreta’s hand was terrible, but she had no intention of folding. “I’ll see your ten and I call.” She nodded at Dunham, who flipped an ace over. She revealed a pair of sevens. Although they had both been bluffing, the pot went to Loreta. As she leaned over to collect her money, she couldn’t help notice Dunham staring at her. She dropped her new booty into her shoe before bidding the men good-day.

  The next afternoon, Loreta was summoned to Captain Alexander’s office.

  “Mrs. De Caulp, can I talk freely?” he asked as he pushed a pile of paperwork aside.

  “Of course, Captain,” Loreta said, taking the seat he proffered her.

  “I wanted to warn you about the man you’ve been seen with recently.”

  “Mr. Dunham?”

  Captain Alexander nodded. “Or Sandover Conover, James Wallace, or any of the other aliases he uses.”

  Loreta leaned forward. “I don’t understand.”

  “The man is a reporter and writes under multiple names. Although he claims he is a Southerner, he writes article
s for newspapers on both sides. He’s even used one pen name to outright argue against things he himself has written.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  Alexander heaved his large shoulders. “Who knows? No one is quite sure to which side he pledges his allegiance. That is, if he has any loyalty at all.”

  “I had no idea.”

  Alexander reached over to pet Nero. “Neither did General Winder until the Union called for his arrest. Our informants in Washington City passed on his dossier, which included the pen name he uses to write for the Richmond Examiner. Somehow he is able to travel back and forth through the lines indiscriminately.”

  Loreta stood. “Thank you for the warning, Captain Alexander. I will be more cautious in my interactions with him from now on.”

  Alexander held up his hand. “That’s not the only thing I wanted to speak with you about. I’ve been thinking about what you told me about your exploits in New Orleans.”

  Loreta sat down again. “What about them?”

  “It sounds to me like you have great talent as a spy.”

  Loreta beamed, pleased her work had finally been noticed.

  “If you want, I can write you a letter of introduction to General Winder,” Alexander continued. “I believe that you would be a great asset to his core of secret service detectives.”

  “Oh yes sir, please do.” Loreta bestowed a wide grin upon the prison commander. “Nothing would please me more.”

  Two weeks after Loreta entered Castle Thunder, Captain Alexander came in personally to tell her that she had been released.

  Even Nero’s ears perked at Loreta’s sigh of relief. “General Winder must have finally realized he had no reason to keep me prisoner.”

  “He’s requested to meet you, actually,” Captain Alexander replied. “He must have received my note.”

  “I’ll go right away,” Loreta declared.

  Captain Alexander stepped into her cell. “Just be careful, Mrs. De Caulp. The old man has a reputation for being so adept at double-dealings you won’t realize for weeks that you’ve been deceived.”

  Contrary to the captain’s warning, Loreta found General Winder to be a rather pleasant looking gentleman, with bright white hair and a kind face.

  Loreta curtsied and began to introduce herself, but Winder held up his hand. “No need to exchange pleasantries. I know who you are as surely you are familiar with me.”

  Loreta sat down. “Yes, sir.”

  His voice was low and gravelly, reminding Loreta of Nero’s growl. “I’m told you are looking for employment.”

  Loreta folded her hands. “I am anxious to continue my service to the Confederacy.”

  “Is that so?” his gray eyes looked skeptical. “Are you aware that your slave escaped North after Shiloh?”

  “Bob?” Loreta looked down and, noticing her knuckles turning white, released her hands and flexed her fingers. “I didn’t know that.”

  “And your husband, Mrs. De Caulp. Do you know where he is?”

  She looked up. “No, sir.”

  The left side of his lip curled. “If you want to prove to me that you are capable of reconnaissance, the first thing you need to do is locate the whereabouts of your husband.”

  Loreta nodded and stood, marveling at how quickly General Winder’s pleasant demeanor had completely disappeared. As she took her leave, she realized she was more than a little afraid of him.

  Chapter 51

  Hattie

  December 1862

  Hattie's situation in Castle Thunder grew even worse. The prison commander, Captain Alexander, was horribly abusive to those he didn’t favor. Although Hattie and even Frankie managed to stay out of his way, they were forced to witness the wrath of his anger when he ordered men to be hung by their thumbs in the courtyard. At night Hattie would try to cover her ears with a pillow to drown out the screams of men being whipped or beaten.

  She wrote to everyone she could think of, from Jefferson Davis to Judah Benjamin to General Winder, to no avail. She even penned a few letters to Kate, knowing that she’d never be able to get them North. As she’d received no more letters from Major Lawton, she feared he had finally been captured, or worse, hanged.

  Finally, in December, the captain informed both Hattie and Frankie that their release had at last been secured and that they, along with a few other prisoners, were to be escorted back to Washington City by boat the very next day.

  Hattie had never been so pleased to see an American flag as she was when she saw one flapping in the breeze on the boat that would take them across the Potomac.

  She spent the entire crossing restless. She’d been in Confederate territory since she crossed the wide river with Timothy almost a year ago. As far as she knew, her friend’s body still lay behind her, buried in an enemy land. Her main objective now that she was free was to avenge Timothy’s death, but she had no idea how to go about doing so. She supposed she would resume her position at the Pinkerton Detective Agency, but, considering that the Confederates knew her as Mrs. Webster, she would not be able to work undercover in the South anymore. Which was just as well, as she was not anxious to go back any time soon.

  Frankie soon became seasick and sought refuge below deck. Hattie refused to be confined anymore and relished the cold winter air at the bow of the boat. As they approached land, Hattie, catching sight of people waiting at the wharf, felt lonely: there wouldn’t be anyone there to greet her. She had no family to speak of, and most of her co-workers had been executed or jailed.

  But as soon as she disembarked, an almost empty carpetbag in her hand, she saw a familiar figure standing on the dock: Hugh Lawton.

  She dropped her bag and ran straight into his embrace. After what seemed like an eternity, he held her at arm’s length. “Hattie, I’m so sorry. I wanted so badly to visit you in prison, but I couldn’t get a pass.”

  It was all so overwhelming: finally being back on Union soil and seeing Hugh standing before her, that Hattie had a hard time focusing. “It’s okay, Hugh. I understand.”

  “You’re not mad at me?”

  “Of course not. You could have been killed for associating with a Union spy. There are enough dead and guilty men at my feet. I don’t need any more.” She meant the comment to be light, but her voice choked up at the end.

  They began walking down the dock, hand in hand.

  “I love you.” He said it so casually that at first Hattie wasn’t sure if she heard him right.

  “What?”

  “I’ve loved you since I helped you escape from your husband all those years ago.”

  She stopped to face him. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “I knew I was going to go along with John Brown’s raid and your marriage wasn’t officially ended. Once you decided to stay in Chicago, I didn’t know if we’d ever meet again. And then, after Timothy… well, I thought you might hate me.”

  “Why would I hate you?”

  “I tried to get you out of prison, but I didn’t know how. After we tried… we tried to save Timothy…” For the first time since she’d known him, Hattie saw Hugh’s finely sculpted plaster crack. He enveloped her in his arms, burying his face in her hair. “I’m so sorry, Hattie. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  He pulled away to look into her eyes. “Do you?”

  Hattie met his gaze. “I do.”

  His grin filled his face. “What shall we do now? My Southern instincts are telling me that I should ask your family permission for your hand in marriage, but I know that’s not necessary in your case.”

  “My husband…” Hattie said softly.

  “He’s dead.”

  “How do you—”

  Hugh pulled out a piece of paper from his inside jacket pocket. “Antietam. He had fought for the Confederates. I made some inquiries once I heard you were being released.”

  “You checked up on me?”

  “And I bought you this.” He again reached into his pocket and pulled ou
t a tiny ring. He got down on one knee. “Carrie Stevens, or Hattie Lewis, or whatever your name is… will you marry me?”

  “Yes, I will, Hugh Lawton.”

  “Then come with me.” He took her hand and started back for the boat.

  “Where are we going?”

  “The captain can marry us.”

  “Now?”

  “I waited all of this time for you to be released—I’m not going to let you get away now or ever.” He paused walking. “Is that okay?”

  She laughed. “Yes, let’s get married.”

  Frankie was exiting as the two stepped onto the boat. She put her hands on her hips, still green from her earlier bout with seasickness. “Hugh Lawton, what are—”

  “C’mon,” Hattie told her as they breezed past. “You can be our witness.”

  Half an hour later, after they’d once again stepped onto the dock, Frankie and the new Mrs. Lawton looked around, both wondering what would happen next.

  “I’d like to meet with Allan Pinkerton,” Hattie stated. “There are some things we need to discuss.” Namely Pryce Lewis and John Scully. To Hattie’s knowledge they were both still in prison in Richmond.

  Hugh shook his head. “I’m sorry to say that, with McClellan’s firing from the Army of the Potomac, Pinkerton returned to Chicago.”

  “And Kate Warne?”

  Hugh furrowed his brow. “Some of his operatives stayed on to work for Lafayette Baker, but I think Mrs. Warne went with Pinkerton.”

  Hattie bit her lip, thinking that all of her friends had indeed abandoned her. As if he could read her mind, Hugh touched her cheek and stated, “Hattie, you have me now.”

  “Well I’d like to meet with Stanton,” Frankie announced. “I’d like to ask the secretary of war why it took so long to set us free.”