The Rebel Spy

by April London

  Molly stood and pressed a kiss to James’s cheek. “James, people are fickle. There is always a new scandal to make them forget. Good night, son.”

  James smiled at his mother. “Good night, Mother.”

  His gaze landed on his father who watched her leave. The love between the two of them was unmistakable.

  “You remember what I told you about how I started the business?”

  James nodded.

  The youngest of four brothers, at thirty, Charles Steele begged his father for his share of the inheritance. There was an investment opportunity Charles was not willing to pass up. He poured his entire inheritance into that opportunity.

  “Everyone thought you were a fool,” James recalled.

  Charles nodded. “Well, your mother and I left out the biggest reason they thought me a fool.” Charles chuckled. “I was broke, a laughing stock in the community, and I found myself in love with another man’s betrothed.”

  “Mother was engaged to someone else?” James was shocked. His Mother had always been…so conservative.

  Charles smiled. “Scandal must be in our blood.” Charles puffed on his cigar. “She left him. Defied her family. Ran away with me and got married. Not a friend or family member to stand next to us.”

  James shook his head with disbelief. His parents seemed too reserved to have behaved so widly, even in their youth.

  “My point is, you may rock the family a bit, but when the next scandal comes along, people will move on to it. Six months after your mother and I eloped the local minister was discovered to be the father of a married woman’s baby.”

  “Now?” James asked.

  “Your mother and I are the only ones who remember our youth.” Charles winked at his son. “A gentleman at the shipyard told me the land values in the south have plummeted.”

  “Yes, after Jefferson’s capture in May. The economy is on the verge of collapse.” James nodded.

  “Smart man would buy up some of that land.” Charles stood and stretched. “I promised your mother we would sit in the gardens before bed. Goodnight.”

  James bid his father goodnight and weighed over in his mind what needed to be done.

  Frances.

  ****

  “Miss Frances is still abed,” the butler said stiffly.

  James pushed past the old man. “Have someone go and wake her. It is urgent I speak with her.”

  The butler nodded despite his uncertainty and hurried away from the foyer. James made his way toward the parlor where he’d always been received by Frances and her parents in the past. He clutched his hat. I should have waited until later.

  He frowned. Surely the Amorys were out of bed. He circled the room, gazing at the trinkets Mrs. Amory told him were from various corners of the globe. None were very impressive, but she seemed proud of them.

  He circled the room more carefully the second time, inspecting the trinkets. On his third pass, he began to notice most were chipped or cracked.

  It was mid-morning before he heard footsteps on the stairs.

  “James, what a lovely surprise.” Frances appeared in the doorway. Not a hair out of place.

  “Good morning, Frances.”

  “What on earth are you doing here so early?” She called for someone to bring tea to the parlor.

  “I needed to speak with you concerning an urgent matter.” He waited for her to sit.

  “James, dear, surely it could have waited. I hope you don’t expect me to get up this early after we are married. A woman needs her beauty sleep.”

  James looked over the dress and realized it was yet another new frock.

  “Do you like it?” Frances twirled. The pearl design went all the way around the skirt. “I had Mrs. Whitaker make it with you in mind.”

  “Frances, please, have a seat.” James urged her back into the chair.

  “Mrs. Whitaker mentioned your special order was nearly done.” Frances bubbled on. She took the seat. “James, did you have something made for me? Mrs. Whitaker refused to tell me anything.”

  “Frances, I need to speak with you.” James went to sit when Frances stood again.

  “James, how rude of me. Would you care for breakfast? I’m famished this morning.” She turned to walk away and James hurried to grasp her by the elbow.

  “Frances, this is urgent.” He pulled her back.

  “Oh, James, everything is so urgent with you. Can’t it wait?” She tugged her elbow loose and continued toward the kitchens. “If you aren’t busy today, could we go by the jeweler? I would like for you to help me select a brooch.”

  “We aren’t going to the jeweler today, Frances.”

  “Tomorrow then.”

  “I can’t marry you, Frances.” The muscle in his jaw began to jerk.

  Frances turned to stare at him. Stunned into silence. Her face drained of color.

  “I hope we can call off the engagement quietly.” He went on. “I don’t wish to damage your reputation. Nor mine.”

  “It’s the little rebel whore,” she whispered with fury. “Hester swore she sent her away. What did you do? Stash her in the city?” Frances rushed across the room. “I waited all these years!” Her fists pounded against him.

  “You didn’t have to.”

  “I waited for you!” Frances’ scream carried through the house.

  “What is going on?” Mrs. Amory rushed into the room and pulled Frances away from him. “What has he done to you, Frances?”

  She turned to James and wrapped her hysterical daughter in her arms. “Did you touch her? Are you an animal who can’t even wait until you have properly wed her?”

  “Mother, he says there isn’t going to be a wedding,” Frances wailed.

  James was certain the neighbors could hear the commotion going on inside the house. “I’m sorry.” James moved to leave.

  “Mama, he won’t marry me.” Frances sobbed. “Papa said if I waited for him, everything would work out.”

  “Shush, Frances.” Mrs. Amory tried to hold onto her daughter.

  “I will ruin you, James Steele,” Frances screamed behind him. “I will tell them you forced yourself on me!”

  James continued through the house and was met by Mr. Amory rushing down the stairs pulling his suspenders up. “What’s going on?”

  James continued through the house and out the door.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Late October, 1865

  Johnson City, Tennessee

  Obligations to his father had caused him to postpone leaving Boston for months longer than he’d planned.

  It was mid-afternoon when James stepped onto the train platform. The train had been scheduled to arrive the day before but ran late in three of the larger cities they’d passed through. He’d been anxious to arrive.

  The small town didn’t surprise him. He’d seen many of them over the years as the war raged on through town after town. “Can you tell me where I might purchase a horse?” he asked the baggage man, pressing several coins into his hand.

  “Yes, sir.”

  James realized it was more of a baggage boy. The youngster wasn’t even old enough to have hair on his chin.

  “There is a livery just past the church.” The boy pointed in a general direction. James nodded and thanked him. He left the train station behind and moved quickly. He could see the church at the edge of the main street and supposed the livery just beyond.

  If he hurried, he could be well on his way to the Hart family farm before dark. The stables came into view and he quickened his steps.

  A large man stood outside the fence, rubbing down an aging gelding.

  “Afternoon, sir,” he called.

  The man nodded.

  He’d forgotten how distrusting the mountain folks were of strangers. He might as well be speaking a foreign language. “I hoped I might purchase a horse. Or perhaps hire the use of one, if none are for sale.”

  The man looked him over. “What’s your business here?”

  “I am look
ing for the Hart family farm,” James said. Having a connection in the town would help his situation.

  “What for?”

  He’d given thought to his response while on the train. “I have paperwork for Ms. Tamsyn Hart Moody to sign. Concerning the passing of her husband and the farm in Virginia.”

  Maybe he will think I am a lawyer.

  “Wrong, the way he done her,” the man stated.

  “Who?”

  “Ben Moody.” He shook his head. “Taking her off away from her mama and leavin’ her all alone the way he done.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What did you say your name was?”

  “James Steele.” He wiped his hands on his breeches and offered his hand.

  The man grasped it. “I will grab a saddle and you can hire out the sorrel gelding. He don’t look like much but he’s a steady horse.” The man disappeared inside the barn.

  James breathed a heavy sigh of relief. He’d been prepared to walk all the way to the Hart farm.

  Within minutes the man saddled the horse.

  “Can you tell me how to get to the Hart farm?” James asked accepting the bridle form the man.

  “Stay on the road east out of town. It’s a big white two-story with several smaller buildings all bunched around it nearby. It’s not far outside of town.”

  “Thank you.”

  The man nodded and moved to continue with his chores.

  James waited until he cleared outside the town before swinging into the saddle and pressing the horse into a trot.

  The horse climbed higher into the mountains. Fall colors still clung to the trees and blazed around him. The unmistakable chill in the air reminded James winter would soon be upon them. He hoped to have Tamsyn on the train and back in Boston before the first snow fell. George and Abigail’s wedding was planned for the last weekend in November.

  He rode for about an hour before he saw the first wafts of smoke rising into the air just ahead. A small path veered off the main road.

  “Whoa.” He broke through the branches. Spread out below was a large farm. A white house dominated the landscape with several smaller cabins surrounding it.

  This must be the Hart Farm. His horse nickered and tried to pull forward, no doubt smelling the warmth of the barn and fresh hay below.

  “Whoa, boy.” James held the gelding back.

  A voice floated up from the house. “Davis! Be careful!”

  His eyes found Davis at the base of an apple tree. The one legged man swung up onto a strong low branch. Two children squealed from the ground up at him.

  He recognized Elizabeth’s red hair and his heart pounded faster.

  His gaze found the source of the voice. Tamsyn stepped off the porch. Her hair loose around her shoulders and still the color of dark honey.

  She hurried across the yard toward the apple tree. He squinted and leaned forward in the saddle. The outline of Tamsyn’s swollen stomach caused his breath to catch in the back of his throat. His hands clutched the reins.

  Someone called out from one of the houses and he pulled the horse further back into the branches. Several more people stepped off the porch.

  She stopped under the tree, her hands on her hips. Her voice carried up the hill to where he stood. Her tone made him smile. She’s letting him have it.

  His fingers itched to trace the curves of her lips.

  The family gathered under the apple tree and he tried to recall what Davis or Tamsyn may have said about their family.

  A man below draped his arm around Tamsyn’s waist. Her laughter rang up the hill. James sucked in a breath. Her husband.

  His jaw ticked. I was a fool. I was a fool for letting her go. And I’m an even bigger fool for coming after her now.

  She was breathtaking. She moved back toward the porch, guided by the man’s arms, and settled into a rocker on the porch.

  She’s happy.

  He backed the horse back onto the main road. She’d married. She carried her husband’s baby.

  He had no right to intrude on the life she’d managed to create. He turned the horse back toward Johnson City. He would return the horse and find out what time the next train left.

  He rode back into the city in a fog. Dark had fallen when he knocked on the door of the stable.

  “Mr. Steele, back so soon?” The large man took the reins.

  “Yes. All the business is taken care of,” he added to maintain the lie. “Thank you for the use of the horse.” He turned on his heel and walked away.

  Despite the dark, people still moved about. At the station he found the train scheduled to leave in the morning.

  “Can you tell me where the saloon is?” James asked. “Or a place to rent a room for the night?” he asked at the ticket counter just before the man closed his window.

  “Not much in the way of a hotel.” The man shook his head. “The Junction might rent a room out to you for the night. I know they rent ladies out for the night, if you catch my meaning.”

  He paid for his ticket and the man pointed him in the direction of the Junction.

  Part bar and part brothel, James found it suited his mood. The establishment was nearly empty and the barkeep was content to pass James the whiskey in silence.

  Three drinks in, he waved the barkeep over. “Another, sir?” he asked.

  “How about, you crack open a fresh bottle.” James dropped an extra coin on the bar. “And stop watering my shit down.”

  The barkeep pulled a fresh bottle from under the bar and cracked open the seal. Filling James’s glass, he left the bottle sitting in front of him.

  “Where can I get a room when I’m done here?” James drained the glass. The whiskey burned, cascading down the back of his throat.

  The good stuff.

  He refilled the glass.

  “Honey, you can share my room.” A tall brunette settled herself on the stool next to him as he tilted the glass back again.

  James looked her over. Not bad. I’ve done worse.

  Not Tamsyn.

  “Here, let me refill it for you.” She offered him a smile and refilled his glass. When her arms reached across the bar, he could see down the loose front of her dress.

  “Thank you.” He accepted the drink from her hands.

  “They call me Sally.” She turned in the stool to face him.

  “James.” He tilted the glass back.

  “Must be trying to forget a girl.” She took the glass. Her hand slid from his knee up his thigh. “I can help you a lot more than the whiskey can.”

  He lost his focus when Sally’s hands cupped his balls under the bar. His hand encircled her wrist before she could move further.

  “I prefer the whiskey,” he growled.

  “Leave the man alone, Sally.”

  Someone took the seat on the other side of him.

  “Offering to take his place, Davis?” She lifted an eyebrow and shot a frustrated look over James’s shoulder. “Surely you’re tired of the little wife by now. She looks so much like a man. Don’t you want to feel a real woman beneath you?”

  “Go on, Sally. The man said he isn’t interested.” Davis turned in the stool.

  “Thank you.” James nodded.

  The whore pouted and moved away.

  “Sally’s just trying to make a little coin the only way she knows how.” Davis moved the whiskey bottle out of James’s reach. “So is there something wrong with my sister?”

  James clenched his jaw. “There is nothing wrong with her,” James replied after several moments of silence. He rolled the whiskey still in the glass.

  “So why are you here?” Davis leaned his arms onto the bar.

  James tilted the glass back and drained the last drop of whiskey. “How did you know I was here?”

  “Funny thing about war,” Davis started. His tone serious. “It makes you notice things other people don’t see. Branches moving when there’s no wind, a spot of black mixed with the orange in the tree.”

  “All you ha
ve to say is you saw me.” James’s speech slurred as the whiskey moved into his bloodstream.

  “I saw you. There’s someone outside who would like to speak with you.” Davis dropped down off the stool. A small bounced to his step from the peg.

  James weaved to his feet. Davis reached out to steady him.

  “Please tell me it’s not Tamsyn.” James staggered toward the door, putting one foot in front of the other.

  “Tamsyn didn’t see you.” Davis held the door open.

  James stumbled out into the chilled night air. He found the wagon sitting in front of the saloon. He weaved closer to it, careful not to trip.

  “So, you’re the one.” A slender woman with silver hair stared down at him from her seat in the wagon. Her back was straight and her hands were tucked in her lap beneath a blanket.

  “This is him, Mama.” Davis moved to stand behind James.

  “Tam always did have a soft spot for good-looking fools.” Mrs. Hart rolled her lips. Anger flashed in her eyes.

  Several moments passed and James shifted. “Ma’am, is there something you would like to say to me?” His attempt at being polite was laughable. “I would appreciate you getting on with it so I may return to my drink inside.”

  “Oh, young man, I have nothing to say to you.” James cringed. “I simply wanted to look at the face of the man who disgraced my daughter.”

  Something about the way she spoke rubbed against James’s drunken mind. He knew she was saying something important but he couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

  “Come along, Dave. We have guests to attend to.” Mrs. Hart turned her gaze away from James. “Leave the Yankee scum in the street. He is not fit for our family.” She flickered one last glance at James. “He is not fit for Tamsyn or the child.”

  James turned to Davis, still unsteady on his feet. “If that’s all, I will see myself back inside the saloon.”

  Davis’ hand gripped his shoulder. Through the fog he was spun around. Davis’ fist made contact with James’s jaw and he flew through the air.

  What the hell?

  “Umpf.” James landed in a crumpled heap on the ground. He groaned and rolled onto his back. The star-filled black sky spun over him.