Whippoorwill

by R. L. Bartram

  “What you bin telling that girl, when I ain’t here?” Hecubah would ask. “Sometimes, she leaves here pink as a boiled shrimp.”

  “Nothing she don’t want to know,” was all Ceci would say.

  As Ceci grew stronger, Savannah would arrive with ribbons and lace, lip colour and rouge, all of which they’d try out on each other and then on Hecubah, for as long as she’d put up with it. By now, Ceci’s hair had begun to grow long again. Savannah took great delight in combing it for her, whilst they gossiped and giggled for hours. Even though it made Hecubah’s head spin sometimes, she tolerated it. It was good to hear Ceci laugh again. She was like a sapling that had been cut down, only to grow back even stronger.

  Once Ceci was back on her feet, Savannah came in with some dresses, donated by the Methodist women.

  “Why, you look just divine, Ellen,” she admired her. “Tomorrow, I’m going to take you out on your first walk. If that’s all right, Tallulah?” she deferred to Hecubah.

  “I don’t mind,” Hecubah agreed. “As long as it ain’t too far.”

  “It’s nearly time for curfew,” Savannah noticed. “So, I’ll say goodnight. I’ll show you what I told you about,” she whispered to Ceci, before leaving.

  “What’s she so all fired up about?” Hecubah wanted to know, once she’d left.

  “She’s going to show me some black soldiers,” Ceci replied indifferently. They seem to fascinate her. I can’t make out if they frighten or excite her. Probably some of both.”

  “You be careful out there tomorrow,” Hecubah advised. “Don’t go getting into anymore mischief.”

  “I’ll be glad to get out of here,” Ceci admitted, glancing around the attic room. “It’s like living in a coffin.”

  “It very nearly came to that,” Hecubah reminded her soberly. “Besides, you ain’t the only one who’ll be glad to leave. I gets no great joy from wearing hand-me-down clothes and sleeping on that mattress, they put on the floor. I thinks it’s stuffed with rocks. I can’t wait to get back to my own bed.”

  The subject of which bed Hecubah slept in, prompted Ceci to raise a question that had been preying on her mind for some time. An incident, which had, ultimately, brought them both here.

  “Sit by me, on the bed,” she asked, patting the covers.

  Hecubah sat down beside her, holding her hand.

  Ceci remained silent for a moment. “That day,” she began quietly. “When we learned my daddy was dead. I couldn’t understand why you cried so hard. Now I know, I wish you’d said something to me then. I could have done more.”

  “You did all you could,” Hecubah sighed. “I couldn’t bring myself to tell you at the time, you had your own sorrows to contend with. Besides, I weren’t sure if you’d understand. I was afraid you’d feel betrayed.”

  “You were already like a mother to me,” Ceci told her. “What difference would it have made?”

  “That’s the trouble with life,” Hecubah advised her. “The not knowing. If we could see the future, we’d do things a whole lot differently. Then again,” she reconsidered. “If we already knew what was gonna happen, what would be the point of doing anything at all. We’d never learn, never grow. If the South knew it was gonna lose the war, would it have happened in the first place?”

  Ceci didn’t say anything, but somehow, she thought it probably would.

  ***

  “Quit fussing, Hecubah,” Ceci took a step back. “I look fine. Besides, Savannah will be here in a minute.”

  “Ain’t you supposed to call me Tallulah,” Hecubah pointed out.

  “Yes. Damn, I forgot” Ceci reproached herself. “Why’d you have to pick an awful name, like that?”

  “You said change my name,” Hecubah reminded her. “It’s the first one that come to me. That, and Jezebel. Anyway, what kind of name is Ellen Franklin? It makes you sound like some dried up old virgin spinster and we both know, you ain’t that.”

  Ceci narrowed her eyes at her. “Perhaps I should call you Jezebel, after all.”

  “Ah huh.”

  Savannah couldn’t wait to get Ceci into the street.

  “See,” she nodded, “didn’t I tell you,” she gripped Ceci’s arm, her breath quickening. “Just look at the size of that one. Imagine what he could do.”

  “It sounds like you’re imagining it already,” Ceci remarked. “Don’t stare.” Her concern wasn’t out of mere politeness. She was well aware that racial inequality wasn’t confined to the Confederacy. The fact that the Union paid coloured troops three dollars a month less than white, made this abundantly clear. Besides, she’d noticed a group of white soldiers who’d seen the black man saluting two white women, and they didn’t look too pleased about it. “This is Tennessee,” she recalled. “You must have seen black men before.”

  “Of course,” Savannah couldn’t take her eyes off them. “But they were slaves, not like this.”

  “They’re just men, like any other.” Ceci forced her to move on.

  The strong sunlight made her eyes ache. She’d spent so long in the attic, she’d grown unaccustomed to it. As her vision adjusted, she began to notice her surroundings. Most of the stores had been boarded up. Those, still in business had little to offer. The blockades of Confederate ports by the Union navy, made sure that little in the way of supplies got through. Apparently, local produce was hard to come by. Often as not, it was requisitioned by the army of occupation. If the war didn’t end soon, the South would starve to death.

  Ceci bitterly regretted her failure to warn Braxton Bragg. Chattanooga had fallen. The gateway to the Deep South was open. She’d been ill for so long, she wondered if Doucet counted her as dead. She had no way to contact him and no further instructions. She certainly couldn’t stay here forever. It seemed her only option was to go home, back to Louisiana. She didn’t mind admitting the idea appealed to her.

  “Oh, look, look,” Savannah grabbed Ceci by the wrist. “You can see his muscles, right through his shirt.”

  “Will you calm down,” she pulled her arm free. “You’ll get us both arrested. Is there anywhere around here where I can get a drink of clean water?”

  Savannah seemed disappointed by her reaction. “Why, sure,” she pouted. “My house ain’t far from here. Mama’ll be glad to see you.”

  “My goodness, honey. You look so much better than when I last saw you,” Twyla-Fae beamed. She looked like an older version of Savannah. “And what have you two been doing on this fine day?”

  Savannah glanced at Ceci, eyes wide, her pale cheeks suffused with colour.

  “Just walking,” Ceci replied casually. “Getting my strength back.”

  “That’s good, honey,” Twyla-Fae approved, failing to notice her daughter’s sigh of relief. “I still have some tea, if you’d like it,” she offered.

  “Thanks for not giving me away to my mama,” Savannah remarked, somewhat shame faced, as they returned to the boarding house.

  “It’s not as if I don’t think about the same thing you do,” Ceci confided. “Well, more or less, but you mustn’t be so obvious about it. If a boy takes a fancy to you, you have to make him work for your attention, or he’ll just take you for granted. Life isn’t like the books you read.”

  “I suppose so,” Savannah agreed grudgingly.

  ***

  Only a few days of October remained. Ceci was now fully recovered. Both she and Hecubah knew that they couldn’t rely on Methodist charity for much longer. Even though Hecubah had a purse full of gold, they couldn’t spend it openly without attracting unwanted attention. It was time to think about leaving. Meanwhile, it was necessary to keep up the pretence of being refugees.

  Hecubah had left Ceci alone in the attic room and gone out to see what the chances were of finding a passage home. When Savannah arrived, on one of her regular visits, she app
eared flushed and breathless, as if she’d been running.

  “I’ve some real important news to tell you,” she announced dramatically.

  Ceci was in no mood for anymore tales about black soldiers, or muscular heroes from the pages of a novel. “Has the Union surrendered?” she guessed wildly.

  “Why, no, silly,” Savannah replied, taken aback. “That would shake the pillars of heaven.”

  Ceci froze, the smile draining from her face. “I thought you were my friend,” she remarked stonily.

  “I am,” Savannah faltered, noticing the change in Ceci’s expression.

  “Where did you hear that phrase?” Ceci continued coldly.

  Savannah began to look worried. “A man,” she told her, obviously surprised by her behaviour. “He’s waiting on you now, back at the mission house in that little room I showed you. He said to be sure to tell you, that if you come, he guarantees Tallulah a safe passage home.”

  Ceci sprang across the room, grabbed Savannah by her hair and yanked her head back. “You little witch,” she spat. “Don’t you ever threaten her.”

  “I wasn’t,” Savannah screamed. “I just said what he told me to say. Stop it, you’re hurting me.”

  “You don’t know what pain is yet,” Ceci warned. “How long has he known I was here?”

  “I can’t say,” Savannah winced, struggling against Ceci’s hold on her. “I was told I had to keep it a secret, even from my mama.”

  Ceci yanked her head further back. “If you don’t tell me what I want to know,” she threatened. “I’ll strip you naked, tie you to that bed, call up half a dozen of those black soldiers you’re so fond of, and feed you to them whole.”

  “No. Don’t,” Savannah began to cry. “You’re frightening me.”

  “Tell me,” Ceci shouted into her face.

  Savannah was clearly terrified. “A couple of weeks after you arrived, some men come by the mission house,” she blurted out. “They knew your name and what you looked like. They said, if I watched over you and let them know as soon as you was well, I’d be doing a service for the South.”

  Ceci released her, pushing her away. “The man at the mission house. Is he one of the men you saw before?”

  “No, he’s new,” Savannah sniffed tearfully.

  “Did he tell you his name?” Ceci demanded.

  “No,” Savannah sniffed again. “He just gave me that phrase to tell you. He said you’d know who he was.” She looked distraught and confused. “Why’d you have to be so mean to me?” she sobbed. “We’re on the same side. I thought you’d be pleased.”

  “Go home, Savannah,” Ceci sighed. “Go home and stay home. Have nothing more to do with these people.”

  Savannah hesitated, looking miserable and afraid.

  “Get out,” Ceci screamed.

  Savannah flinched, then burst into tears and fled the room.

  So, Doucet hadn’t forgotten her after all. He was here, in person, and he’d threatened Hecubah. Ceci’s blood was boiling. Lifting the corner of her mattress, she picked up the small hand gun, Hecubah had left there for protection. Putting it in her purse, she went out into the street and on towards the mission house.

  She wasn’t surprised to find that the building was deserted. Crossing the main hall to a small annex room at the back, she took the gun from her purse and kicked the door open. It flew back, crashing against the wall. Doucet was sitting behind a small wooden table, smoking a cigar. Ceci didn’t hesitate for a moment. She flew across the room, jamming the barrel of the pistol into Doucet’s cheek.

  “Take it easy,” he advised, raising his hands, letting the cigar fall to the floor.

  “You don’t threaten Hecubah,” she jabbed the pistol deeper, making him catch his breath. “If any harm comes to her, I’ll kill you,” she jerked the hammer back. “You, of all people, know I will pull this trigger.”

  “Calm down,” Doucet spoke softly, “it wasn’t a threat. It was a guarantee. I don’t know how she managed to get out here, but things have changed now. She’ll never get back alive without my help. As I said, a guarantee. It’s my gift to you.”

  Ceci kept the pistol in his face a moment longer, then relaxed and stepped back.

  Doucet slowly lowered his hand, touching his fingers against his bruised cheek. “Glad to see you’re feeling better,” he remarked dispassionately.

  Ceci sat down opposite him, the gun still in her hand. “How’d you find me?”

  Doucet put his foot on the fallen cigar and crushed it out. Then proceeded to light another. “It wasn’t difficult,” he shrugged, through a cloud of smoke. “You’re still using the same alias, and travelling with Hecubah, you stuck out like a burr on a saddle blanket.”

  “Hecubah saved my life,” Ceci snapped.

  “Then we both owe her a debt of gratitude,” he pointed out. “Let her go home. I’ve other work for you.”

  “What kind of work?” Ceci asked suspiciously.

  “I’m sending you back to Washington,” he told her casually.

  “Are you insane?” Ceci stared. “I’m known in Washington.”

  Doucet interrupted, with a raised hand. “Josiah Douglas has fallen from grace,” he informed her. “He was removed from office, as a security risk. He’s since moved his family to New York. Charles Munroe is currently serving with Sherman, on his advance towards Atlanta. You’ve nothing to worry about.”

  “Oh, really?” Ceci’s finger twitched on the trigger of the gun. “Is that what you told the rest of the Bird spies? Is it true, what I’ve heard? They’re all dead?”

  Doucet registered her reaction, with the mere blink of an eye. “I never once lied to any of you about the risks,” he reminded her calmly. “You all accepted them of your own free will. What else do you want me to say?”

  It galled her to admit it, but he was speaking the truth. “What am I supposed to do this time?” she snapped curtly. “Another maid?”

  “Just so,” Doucet nodded. “Only this time, you’ll be in the White House.”

  Ceci’s jaw dropped. “You’re making fun of me.”

  “I never joke,” he responded drily. “Your application has already been accepted.”

  Ceci couldn’t see the point in it. “It’s not going to be like the Douglas home,” she guessed. “I doubt if they’ll be giving away many secrets there.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Doucet gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’m putting you in as a sleeper. You won’t be required to do anything except your duties as a maid,” he explained. “If the opportunity arises for you to act, you’ll be contacted. You may yet get your chance to strike a vital blow for the South.”

  By agreeing to work for Doucet, Ceci felt as if she’d sold her soul to the devil. There was no escaping him. No going home. This wouldn’t end until the war was over, or she was dead. It wasn’t that she’d resigned herself to that fact, she still harboured the vain hope that she could help turn the tide of the war, free the South from Union tyranny and protect her home state of Louisiana. “When do I leave?” she asked.

  “Today,” Doucet pushed a valise from under the table with his foot. “Everything you need is in here. Retain your alias as Ellen Franklin.”

  “I have your word that Hecubah will get home safely,” she insisted.

  Doucet pulled an envelope from inside his coat and tossed it onto the table. “As long as she follows these instructions, my people will watch over her every step of the way.”

  Ceci picked it up. “She won’t be back yet,” she sighed. “I’ll leave this at the boarding house and go.”

  “Be quick about it,” Doucet advised. “Your train leaves in forty-five minutes.”

  ***

  As soon as Hecubah entered the attic room, she sensed something had changed. She saw the note and th
e envelope, laying on the bed. Her heart sank. She sat down, picked it up and read it.

  ‘Your safe passage home is guaranteed.’ it said. ‘Please follow the instructions in the envelope and trust me. I am so sorry to do this to you. One day I will explain. Forgive me. I love you, Ceci.’

  Hecubah’s shoulders slumped as she let out a great sigh. “I should’a chained that girl down,” she muttered to herself. She crushed the note in her fist. “I should’a killed Doucet, when I had the chance.”

  Chapter Thirty

  God had a sense of humour. Ceci was sure of it. Once she’d stood outside this building and sworn vengeance on it, now she was a member of the household. A Confederate spy, right at the centre of Union power.

  Life at the White House was entirely different to what she’d experienced in the Douglas home. Security was tight, troops were posted in every corridor and there was a strict regime to follow. Mary Todd Lincoln was ultimately responsible for all domestic issues. Beneath her was a loyal housekeeper, Abigail Bowen. Unlike Florina Winthrop, she knew exactly what she was doing. Ceci was only one of a score of maids, two of which she shared a room with, Catherine Meadows and Susan Langtree. Being able to mix freely with other young women came as something of a relief and often reminded her of her time on the island with the Bird spies.

  Apart from her false identity, Doucet had asked nothing of her. She didn’t have to risk herself in any way. She began to relax a little, adapting to the world around her. For now, she was free of hardship, hunger and sickness. She was no longer called upon to cut her hair and dress as a man. Now she could be loyal to her sex. Just a young woman in the company of other young women.

  “I got another letter from Eli today,” Cathy gloated, as the three of them prepared for bed. She was dark haired, vivacious and forthright. “He says he’s coming home on leave next month and you all know what that means.”