Indeed, I thought that, too. Lincoln was one of the most fascinating men in American history. I liked the fact that he recognized his weaknesses and had a basic humility of character. When he became commander in chief of the army and war loomed, he haunted the Library of Congress to study history and battle tactics used in past conflicts to better prepare to counsel his generals. The war would prove to be the costliest in the history of the nation. Slavery, an abomination, could not be permitted to survive.
"And tell me, Miss Sam, where did you and your brother find such handsome dogs?" Murphy asked. It was clear he felt it indelicate to discuss such things as war, blood and guts with a lady.
"Well, they are Chinese red crested mastiffs," I replied, smiling to myself at the old fabrication I'd used in the past. "A pretty rare breed... very intelligent and the most loyal of dogs."
Kipp, happy with my description of him as intelligent and loyal, pointed his nose to the sky and barked. Elani copied him with a sharp yip or two.
"Hey, Petra, we are just coming up on Catoosa," Kipp said. "I pick up a lot of human thoughts." He concentrated for a moment. "But I don't get any pinging from Peter."
I could feel Elani's anxiety grow and reached out with my mind to comfort her. "I told you, Elani, we will find him," I said, turning on the hard, wooden bench seat to look at her. "I promise you."
Our cart crested a hill, and the horse's head went up with excitement. He understood that approaching a town probably meant food, water and rest. The beast's pace hastened a little as we sailed down the muddy slope. As we approached habitation, I looked down at my clothes, which were mud splattered, covered in grass stains, torn and still damp. My dark hair hung in a plait over my shoulder but was mussed and tangled; Murphy didn't look much better. Our dash through the mud was a contributing factor to our current appearances. But the tumble off the pole car into the ditch had been a defining moment.
Murphy pulled the horse to a gentle stop in front of the small train station, which was little more than a rectangular wooden building constructed of wide pine planks set horizontally and a shelter under which to stand in case of inclement weather. Hopping off the cart, he went to the building where he, as an employee of the W&ARR, was well recognized.
"It's good he came with us," Kipp commented. "You look so bedraggled, that we'd probably end up in the clink."
"In the clink?" I asked. "Where on earth do you get these phrases?"
"It was a James Cagney movie," he replied, with a derisive snort. "You fell asleep on the couch while I watched TCM."
"In any case, you're correct in that Murphy lends us credibility," I responded, trying to not look at Kipp for fear of laughing.
We waited anxiously in the cart. Murphy stuck his head around the corner and nodded in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. A few seconds later, he rejoined us.
"Your brother was here," Murphy said smiling. It was obvious he was happy to give us promising news. "Apparently, the men put him off the train at this station." He took a deep breath. "Unfortunately, one of the telegraphs Fuller sent got through to here, and the locals were suspicious of your brother, thinking he was part of the gang and party to a larger conspiracy." Murphy took a kerchief from his pocket and wiped his face, which was damp from the humidity as well as exertion. "A contingency of soldiers were heading towards Rome, and they took him into custody and planned on escorting him there for further examination."
I felt my heart sink and couldn't bear to look at Elani. Her stricken thoughts banged inside my brain like a pair of cymbals.
"We'll find him," Kipp said. "The good news is that he was here, he is safe, alive and we just need to keep on his trail."
It was after one o'clock in the afternoon when the General ground to a halt a couple of miles north of Ringgold, Georgia. It had taken me another hour to secure transport south to Catoosa, another hour to make the journey, slowed by the muddy, rutted roads. Now it was after three o'clock in the afternoon. I felt pressed to leave immediately but was cautioned by Kipp.
"I understand the urgency, but let's think about this logically, Petra. By the time we get to Rome, he may have been moved somewhere else. You look like a drowned swamp rat and won't be able to convince anyone of anything." Kipp pushed his head up next to mine and licked my face.
"So what do you propose?" I asked, feeling deflated.
"We need to get accommodations for the night. We need to eat, get cleaned up and somehow get some new clothing for you to wear. There's plenty of money, and we can buy a cart and horse to continue; we'll need supplies for a long trip." Kipp tossed his head. "Murphy obviously has to go back to Ringgold."
It took some convincing of Murphy that he could return to his life and destiny, which did not include accompanying our odd trio all over the state of Georgia. We were fortunate, however, in that he was personal friends with the couple who owned the only hotel in town. Murphy, in his genial way, explained my situation to the wide-eyed Hoskins couple. The wife, who was much older than me–or so she thought–took me under her compassionate wing. It was not long before I had a hot bath, scrubbed my hair clean and managed to get the accumulated dirt of the day off my body. The woman also had a local youth who worked in the hotel to take Kipp and Elani out back and use pitchers of hot water to get them clean. The boy, who fortunately was a dog lover, took a curry comb and worked the tangles out of their coats. In retrospect, Kipp was right in that we needed to be fully prepared for the next leg of our adventure, and beginning with clean bodies and full stomachs changed our attitudes. The kind proprietress supplied me with a nightgown before bringing one of her own dresses, which was old and well used, but clean. I gently turned away the offer of a crinoline and merely washed out my own underwear and would go partially commando, in terms of hoops and corset. Kipp and Elani, clean and brushed–and dry, for the most part, thanks to the heat from the wood burning stove in the kitchen—looked up from their bowls which were filled with chicken and mashed potatoes. I thought Kipp was going to eat his bowl, too. I'd joined them on the back porch of the house, enjoying the sudden breeze that seemed to push any lingering humidity towards the south. I've come to the conclusion that potatoes, cooked in any manner, are a wonderful thing!" he opined. "Oh, my, this is good."
"You are a potato hog," I observed. I'd finished my own dinner of potatoes, fried okra, fresh tomatoes and snap beans. There was also a piece of cornbread on the side.
Murphy had explained my situation, but I requested Mr. Hoskins to try and procure a buggy, preferably one with a top, for me to continue my journey. He, like Murphy, didn't care for the thought I'd be travelling alone in the countryside, but in the end he had to bend to my will. Pointing to the lupines, I indicated there was ample protection riding shotgun for the trip.
We slept well that night in a four poster bed that I don't think was usually reserved for guests. In fact, Kipp, after doing a little off the cuff investigative work, told me that the room and the bed had belonged to the couple's daughter, who died during childbirth. I felt humbled and a little ashamed that I misled those kind, gentle people who gave me such a special room in which to sleep. I lay in the center of the soft mattress, with Kipp on one side, his head across my chest, and Elani snuggled in on the other. I gently caressed her head until she drifted off to sleep. At some point during the night, she awoke me with the disturbing qualities of her tormented dreams about Peter. I opened my eyes in the darkness of the room and looked up at the ceiling, which was lost in the void. The window aperture was black, too, since there was no ambient lighting outside and there was a new moon hidden in the darkness of the sky. Kipp stirred briefly, his jaw rubbing against my chest.
"Her dreams woke me, too," he said. "Should I take care of it for her and make them go away?"
Scratching his head, I considered his offer. Was it moral to let someone hurt when you had the ability to remove the painful stimulus? Or did all beings, human and symbiont, need to experience pain in order to grow?
"Let her
be," I finally replied, sighing. "She needs to work it out."
Kipp and I fell back into an uneasy sleep and awoke before dawn the next morning. The smell of bacon frying and bread baking filled the small hotel, which might have been more properly thought of as a boarding house with a fairly stable clientele.
Our hostess left a pitcher of water and a stack of clean towels in the room, so I scrubbed my face vigorously and used the towel to burnish my skin to a rosy glow. Today would be taxing, and I needed to have my best game in place. The dress she'd given me buttoned up the back, so it took a while, with me cursing softly, but I finally managed to get most of them secured, or at least so I hoped. It was still early, but we drifted down to the main sitting room, eager to be on our way, since the trip to Rome would be long.
Mrs. Hoskins appeared and called to Kipp and Elani, who were forced to eat on the back porch again. Ordinarily, I might have tried to connive a way to keep them with me, but Kipp warned me off. The situation was fragile, and the Hoskins were being extraordinarily generous to us. In addition, the lupines were busy with plates piled high with home fried potatoes, scrambled eggs and bacon, so there were no complaints from my friends. I was the earliest riser in the hotel, so Mrs. Hoskins invited me to sit with her in the kitchen as she worked. My offer to help was shrugged away, as she set a plate of food in front of me.
"My husband has gone to get the horse and buggy, but I must tell you we're worried about this plan of yours. People around here are decent, but there have been evil-doers since the time of the first sin, and a woman traveling alone in the country is not a good idea."
As she talked, I looked around the kitchen. The early morning sun was beginning to break through the line of long, narrow windows stretching along one wall; the old fashioned glass was filled with ripples and imperfections that distorted the light, casting intriguing patterns on the table top and floor. A bruised wooden table was pushed against a wall covered in a busy, floral wallpaper; on its top rested rows of what appeared to be jams and jellies that Mrs. Hoskins had "put up". I felt my mouth water at the thought of homemade jam. As if she read my mind, Mrs. Hoskins selected a jar and brought it to the table.
"Try some of that on a biscuit, child," she said.
As I savored the sweet plum jam on the crumbling biscuit, I reflected upon the nature of my journey. True, it was probably about a forty mile trip over rough country roads in a buggy, but there was no way around it. Sometimes, you just make a decision and realize you don't have the choice to not succeed. We could not, would not, fail. If the horse was in good condition, I thought we could make it in three days, maybe four if the roads were bad.
Mrs. Hoskins packed some food for us, along with canisters of fresh water for me, while we waited on her husband to return. This was one of many times I was thankful we always took an overly abundant amount of currency with us. I'd collected my assets, which had been hidden in the now discarded suspenders. And there was still money in the collars that Kipp and Elani wore, so we'd be good for some time.
I'd just finished eating when I heard the scrape of feet on the back porch and a friendly voice: it was Mr. Hoskins stopping to greet Kipp and Elani with a pat on the head and a rub down their furry backs. As he came inside, the lupines entered, too, but with consideration of our hostess. After a couple of tight, canine-like circles, they lay by the door, curled in unbelievably small furry wads of lupine fur. Mr. Hoskins came over to sit across from me at the table, nodding as his wife poured him a cup of coffee. I noticed she was using what was obviously her fine china–probably wedding china–for me. Her husband struggled to pick up the dainty coffee cup of eggshell thin porcelain with his large hands.
"Miss Sam, I have something else I must insist you take along," he said, nodding at me. "I have a double barrel shotgun that will help to scare off anyone who might try to get in your way," Mr. Hoskins said, nodding to a short barrel gun propped up against the wall by the door. His brow creased with the earnest nature of his entreaty. "I doubt you'd even have to fire it; just sticking it in a man's face is usually enough persuasion."
If Kipp possessed the physical ability to raise his eyebrows, he would have done so. I looked at him, amused at the expression on his face.
"Do you know how to shoot that thing?" he asked. I had the distinct impression he didn't want an affirmative answer.
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do," I replied. I took the knowledge seriously, as should anyone who held firepower in his or her hands.
It was time for us to move on, so I surreptitiously left extra currency to cover the cost of the gun as well as the many kindnesses of the couple. Mr. Hoskins followed me out and gave me an assist to the elbow as I climbed up into the carriage that had a half canopy which I welcomed, since the sky was still dark and filled with ominous, scudding clouds. At least I and the lupines would stay fairly dry, and we could sleep in the back of the carriage with the canopy over us. Taking the reins in my hands, I gently clucked the horse forward; I had the distinct impression he appreciated that I left the buggy whip in its notch, unused. Rome was roughly southwest, and I knew enough about the progress of the sun across the sky to find my way. Yes, there were definite advantages in having living in times when there were no artificial assists.
"How long will it take us?" Elani asked. She, like Kipp, had her big head stuck next to me as they pressed forward against the bench seat upon which I sat.
"I think, if we don't run into issues, three days," I answered. "I don't want to press the horse too much, since we have no idea about his health and endurance."
The horse, although not young, seemed game enough and clopped along at a quick pace, his ears swiveling pertly front and back. We appeared to be a on a fairly well-travelled road, but I didn't encounter anyone until a couple of hours later, when a oxen drawn dray approached, driven by an old man who looked as if he was about to fall asleep at the wheel. The dray was filled with oaken barrels, and the man flicked a whip lightly over the backs of the oxen, which seemed bored with the entire business.
The man pulled his team to a halt as I eased my grateful horse to a stop, coming to rest under the expansive, low hanging branches of a large oak tree. Spring was still early, and the leaves were not fully bunched out, but they still gave some shade from the sun, which unexpectedly decided to make an appearance. Despite the mild temperature, the rays of sunlight began to evaporate the moisture left behind from days of constant rain, and a fine, translucent mist hovered over the land.
"How do!" the man called out politely. "Where you be headed, young miss?"
I took the opportunity to leave the hard bench seat of the buggy and landed lightly on the ground, stretching my back as I did so. Kipp and Elani, too, hopped down and put their noses to the dirt as they began to scan the surrounding territory.
"Nice looking doggies," the man remarked pleasantly. He used the break to pull a pipe from his jacket pocket and a worn leather pouch, containing tobacco, from another. I watched, fascinated, at the ritual of cleaning and then packing the bowl. After he was satisfied, he lit the tobacco, drawing deeply; the sweet fragrance of the smoke wafted past me and drifted across an open meadow that was full of early spring flowers. I noted the bright yellow splash of Leopard's Bane interspersed with the soft, lavender blue of bluebells, one of my favorites.
"I'm headed to Rome," I answered him, looking up at the sky to measure my progress as well as direction.
"I might not want any lady folk of mine travelling alone for that distance," the man replied, frowning. Taking out a bandana, he pulled his hat from his head and wiped his face, which was covered with the sweat and grime of an honest, hard working man. "Ninety nine percent of all the people around here are God fearing Christians, but there is that one percent who're utter heathens." He nodded at me. "I carry a gun up under my seat for the second group."
"I appreciate your warning," I replied. "I plan on being careful." I'd been cautioned many times in my life to not play my hand prematurely. So the fac
t I was equally armed with a shotgun was not something to mention to this man, even though he was well-meaning. Reaching to the back of the buggy, I pulled out a canister of water and took a sip. Stretching out my arm, I offered some to the man, who smiled.
"Don't mind if I do," he replied as he hopped off the bench of the dray to approach, his legs stiff from having sat too long.
We stood there in companionable silence as Kipp and Elani bounded across the meadow, playfully chasing butterflies that they had no intention of harming. Overhead, a large red tailed hawk circled, casting a fleeting shadow across the new grass that was still damp at the roots from the recent and constant rain. Kipp's thoughts merged with mine; he was monitoring the man's thoughts, as was I, and knew him to be a harmless presence.
"I'm Toby Smith," the man said, finding his manners on that isolated patch of country road.
"Samantha Keaton," I replied, continuing my pretense. "My brother was mistakenly taken by some soldiers to Rome, and I must find him," I said, in response to Toby's unspoken query.
"Keep on this road going south; the road will take a slight zig zag to the west, and you will eventually get to Rome. If you don't lollygag, you should make it to Rome in a couple of days." With an assessing gaze at my horse he added, "I don't think you need to push that animal of yours too hard." Toby took another deep draw off his pipe and tipped the edge of his hat at me. "I wish you well, young miss." As he approached his dray, he turned and darted another glance at me. "And be careful of who you meet on this road."
I assured him I would do just that. His oxen grunted, their thick tails flicking flies from their broad rumps as they pulled against their harnesses; I waited for Kipp and Elani to return. We shared a small snack before climbing back into the buggy and nudging the horse forward. He was still game but lacked the enthusiasm he'd shown early that morning. I think he figured out we weren't going for some short, casual clip through the countryside.
The Great Locomotive Chase, 1862 Page 21