The Great Locomotive Chase, 1862

by T. L. B. Wood

  "Yes, uh, ma'am?" he asked, trying to control a sneer on his face. He'd been eating something with crumbs and a number of them still adhered to his facial hair and were liberally sprinkled on his stained vest.

  "My two brothers stayed here a few days ago and recommended your accommodations," I began, trying not to laugh at Kipp who was projecting funny pictures in my head. "Quit messing with my concentration" I hissed at him in the back of my mind.

  "Oh, yes ma'am," the clerk replied. "Always happy to have return guests." He pushed the register towards me quickly enough, but I knew he was still battling with some confusion. But after all, money was money.

  "And they mentioned that I need to pay for the extra cost of the dogs," I added, smiling, in order to sweeten the deal.

  "Oh, yes ma'am," he replied, almost gloating with joy. He would make a little extra that night for his labor.

  Since I had no baggage, save for a small, clean flour sack that contained a couple of apples, hard, crusty biscuits and Peter's watch carefully wrapped in a kerchief, I told the man I needed no guide, but mentioned I'd have a visitor later in the evening and to please alert me when Murphy arrived. The lupines and I climbed the worn, carpeted stairs and found our way to the same room that Peter and Elani had shared. It was early afternoon, and the sun's rays slanted in through the nice, street facing window, so there was plenty of illumination in the small room.

  "I'll be glad to get home to a really hot bath and some clean clothes," I remarked, as I plopped down on the edge of the bed. A nap seemed like a good idea as I pulled off my boots, sighing as the leather left my feet.

  "What was the roughest trip you ever took?" Elani asked, as she hopped up to nestle on my right side, Kipp on my left, as I stretched out.

  "Oh, definitely the one where Kipp and I met," I replied. "My symbiont, Tula, was killed trying to protect me. I was stranded on a prehistoric tundra in the midst of a climatic crisis with no way home. It was a miracle Kipp and I connected."

  "Do you think there are miracles or do amazing and inexplicable things just happen at times? Elani asked. Her fur, since the last cleaning at Belle Andrews' house, was tangle free and fragrant; the scent of the lavender soap was still evident, and I inhaled the fragrance, enjoying the taste of it in my mouth.

  "Oh, sweetheart, that question is one for philosophers and those who study religion," I replied. "Some humans believe such events are a part of God's direct intervention; others think that coincidences occur in life and nature."

  "What do you believe?" she persisted.

  "Kipp finding me was a miracle," I replied, as Kipp pushed harder against me, pressing his jaw down upon my breast bone until I almost gasped. "Our ability to bond was also a miracle."

  Elani sighed softly as she processed what I'd told her. It was not my way to direct others' deeper beliefs; I'd not done it with Kipp, nor would I do it with Elani. A sign of respect, in my eyes, was to present facts, evidence, or even my point of view, if asked, and then allow others to pick their chosen path. The road to one's spirituality was best taken alone.

  Given the stress of our recent journey, although we'd not been on that time shift for long, it was not surprising that we fell asleep. Kipp's head lolled to the side, and when I awoke to the soft knock on the door, his head was upside down, mouth open, tongue lolling out in his stupor. I jerked in response to the sound, and the lupines struggled to get their footing in the soft bedding before they jumped lightly to the floor. It was a young man who politely alerted me to the fact a Mr. Murphy awaited me in the parlor downstairs. I glanced at the large window and noted it was dark outside. We must have slept for hours.

  I tried to brush some of the wrinkles from my dress and glanced in the mirror which hung over the small, wooden dresser. With no comb or anything else, there was little I could do to help my appearance, so I pinched my cheeks a little to revive some color to offset my dull appearance and made my way downstairs, followed by the lupines. Murphy, who looked as grand and robust as when I'd last seen him, stood at my arrival. He smiled broadly at me and held out both hands for me to grasp.

  "Miss Keaton, I don't know whether to say I'm amazed to see you here or tell you that I knew you'd complete whatever task to which you'd set your mind," Murphy remarked. He led me to a chair and then took one opposite. As I rested my back against the chair, the wooden supports pressed against my spine; the padding was worn thin from years of use. "And your doggies look none the worse for wear."

  He demanded I tell him my story and so, just so I could entertain him and see his dark eyes round with amazement, I gave him the entire tale, including the moment of high drama with the highwaymen. As I spoke, I wondered what had happened to those two unsavory characters. Murphy was predictably horrified and inwardly struggling with whether or not to disapprove of my careless actions which were not the mark of a lady or give me a round of applause at my sheer audacity. Finally, he compromised and softly muttered that he was happy to see me looking reasonably intact.

  "I need your help, Mr. Murphy," I said, leaning forward. "Peter was mistakenly brought here, and his fate will be decided tomorrow by a General Thorpe. I plan on meeting with the general to explain the situation, hoping he will believe me that Peter is no spy and was not a part of the group of raiders. If you could be there, too, and tell what you witnessed, it would help greatly, I believe."

  Murphy was relieved since my request did not involve running for miles, pole cars, mud, rain or other strenuous tasks. Not that he wasn't truly game, but he was still recovering after the pursuit of the General. He agreed, even adding he was delighted to help me, and commented he'd meet me in the morning so that we'd be at the Fulton County Jail by the appointed time. We'd be on foot, since I'd donated my horse and carriage to a small, growing Methodist church that we'd stumbled on earlier that day while exploring the northern limit of Atlanta. The parson was out front of the neat, whitewashed, plain building, planting flowers when we rolled by. I asked him if he had a horse and buggy for visiting his parishioners, and he had replied no. My only caveat, as I turned over the noble steed that had seen me through so much adventure, was that he be treated kindly. Kipp, who plowed through the man's head, recognized him to be an animal lover and knew the horse would have a good life with no whips applied to his broad back. I even gave the parson some of my money, so he could buy extra feed for the horse.

  Murphy left, and we returned to our room on the second floor. This time, I removed my dress and hung it carefully, so that some of the rumples would fall out and perhaps I'd look presentable the next day for the general. That left me in my thin, cotton shift. It was mid April and the nights were still cool, so I huddled under the chenille spread on the bed, dependent upon the warmth of the lupines to act like heated bricks on either side. We didn't wake until we were disturbed by the lusty crowing of an energetic rooster the next morning.

  "I'm hungry," Kipp announced. "Some grits, ham and biscuits would be nice," he added, obviously placing his breakfast order.

  I splashed water from the pitcher into the large basin and washed my face; the rough, almost threadbare towel was actually invigorating, since it scrubbed off most of the superficial layer of dull flesh until my skin glowed. Dressing took less than a minute since I had so little with which to work. There was a chamber pot, but I made my way to the water closet down the hall before accompanying the lupines outside so they could make a discreet trip to the back alley. While I waited for them, I asked the lad who was working as a porter at the hotel that morning if he could make a run to a nearby establishment and bring back biscuits, ham and whatever else might be portable. He cheerfully went about the task, knowing an extra coin or two would find its way into his pocket without the hotel manager knowing of our private exchange. The lupines and I waited in the room; as the boy ascended the stairs, the smell of food preceded him, and Kipp began to drool.

  As the lupines polished off the mixed fare on the plates, I crumbled a biscuit, a little too nervous to eat. What if to
day went badly and we couldn't retrieve Peter as planned? Pouring a glass of water from the pitcher, I tried to swallow, but the crumbs of bread caught in my throat. Coughing, I felt my face turn red as Kipp stared at me between bites of ham.

  "What are you worried for, Petra? You know I can direct Thorpe to do whatever we want him to do."

  Well, in the past Kipp had demonstrated his ability to insert thoughts, manipulate dreams and other magnificent feats. But what if, for some reason, Thorpe was not easily manipulated or persuadable, and this time it didn't work? Peter could be sent to a military prison or even executed if Thorpe felt he was involved in the train abduction.

  "Murphy being there will help," Kipp remarked with confidence. "Don't be a worry wort."

  From outside, there was the rumbling sound of a large dray; I crossed to the window. The dray, pulled by two stout draft horses, was loaded to the brim with fresh cut lumber. I'd left the window open for some fresh air, and as the breeze fluttered the flimsy curtains inward, the smell of pine sap curled into the room. Atlanta, once again, was on the move, growing by leaps and bounds. Craning my head slightly, I gazed down the street to see the tall, well built form of Anthony Murphy as he strode towards the hotel. He walked with a pleasant swagger, the mark of a confident man. A felt bowler, on trend for men's fashions at that time, was settled upon his head.

  Moving over to the small dresser, I took a moment to gaze at my reflection. My lips turned down at the dark circles of fatigue beneath my hazel eyes. Lacking a comb, I did my best to tame my unruly hair into submission; a neat braid was about all I'd have time for, and since I didn't even have a hair pin to my name, it would have to make do. My guess was General Thorpe was focused on his business, and my appearance, one way or the other, wouldn't influence him. The lupines hastily polished off the remainder of their breakfast and then, as a group, we walked down the carpeted hallway to the stairs and descended into the lobby. The day clerk nodded at me and motioned towards the small sitting room to the left. Murphy, standing by the large front window, took off his hat as I approached him.

  "Are you ready?" he asked, his dark eyes bright and observant. Murphy looked at my face with concern, noting the same dark stains beneath my eyes that had irritated me. "You look tired, Miss Keaton," he remarked.

  "I'm just worried about my brother," I said, with a dismissive wave of my hand.

  "Then let's go and take care of that little problem," Murphy responded.

  Chapter 25

  The bright light almost blinded me for a moment, as I narrowed my eyes against the sudden change from the dimly lit hotel to the outdoors. Murphy had walked to meet us; none of us symbionts was opposed to that method of transport, so we ambled along happily, Murphy keeping a polite distance between his body and mine. I stumbled once on a tree root, and his hand automatically shot out to steady my elbow, for a second, before he withdrew it as if he'd been snake bit.

  "He's well known around here and doesn't want any nasty gossip," Kipp offered. "But he already shared your situation with his wife, and she is in full support of him aiding a damsel in distress."

  "And how did you find your brother?" Murphy asked, tilting his head at me. When I hesitated, he clarified, "I mean, how did he seem? Was he well?"

  "He was tired, scared, and someone had roughed him up," I replied. "His face was bruised," I added hastily. Murphy wouldn't understand my use of vulgar phrases not commonly put into play by ladies.

  "I'm sorry to hear of it, ma'am," he remarked. "I'm sure the Fulton County Jail is not an accommodating place."

  A carriage passed by at a high rate of speed and at an alarmingly close proximity to our party. Murphy had taken the gentleman's position of being between me and traffic. He frowned at the departing carriage, his thoughts dark for a moment in consideration for the uncouth louts that seemed to be much to prevalent in the town. Then he laughed unexpectedly, the sound bright in the early morning air.

  "I was just recalling the ride on the pole car as we started down that steep hill before the tracks ran out. We suddenly took to the air like a flock of birds... but without the necessary grace and agility." Turning slightly, he gazed at me. "You are a brave and determined lady," he added.

  "I've never been airborne in quite that fashion, Mr. Murphy," I said, knowing he'd find my reply humorous.

  "Nor I," he agreed, tipping his hat. "And I have no wish to do so again."

  I almost chorused "Amen" but feared he might think me irreverent.

  As we approached the jail, I saw that a large tent had been set up on the lawn, with an extended flap propped up to provide a shelter from the sun or other elements. There were a few horses, unsaddled, tethered along a rope line. Obviously, Thorpe had arrived. A sentry in uniform stood stiffly outside the little encampment.

  "Let's go meet the man," Murphy suggested.

  We were stopped by a sergeant–who looked all of seventeen, his face pocked with acne scars—and were forced to wait until he discretely spat out a stream of tobacco juice before being compelled to speak with us. Murphy explained our business, and the sergeant excused himself for a moment, walking to the tent. In less than a minute, a tall man with a barrel chest which pushed against the buttons on his gray tunic ducked out from beneath the tent flap and approached. He had gray hair, worn long so that it curled up against his collar, and a full set of whiskers and beard, the latter reaching mid-chest.

  "He's worked on that for a while," Kipp observed laconically.

  "General Thorpe, I am Anthony Murphy, a supervisor for the W&ARR," Murphy began, removing his hat politely. "And this is Miss Samantha Keaton," he added, touching my elbow with a feather dusting of a gesture. Murphy was not one to waste words and quickly and efficiently explained our purpose. Thorpe's gray eyebrows drew together in a frown.

  "So, Mr. Murphy, you were part of the party which pursued and retrieved the General?" he asked. Leading, he motioned for us to follow and invited us to sit in some camp chairs that were clustered beneath the tent flap.

  "Yes, along with Jefferson Cain and Bill Fuller," Murphy replied. "This brave young lady, along with her dogs," he said, pointing at Kipp and Elani, "chased after us, running several miles and encountered extreme danger and risk to herself to try and find her brother."

  Thorpe's gray eyes flicked down to look at the lupines, who tried to look bored and uninterested; then he looked at me. It was clear he had the same thoughts of other contemporary men and was torn between admiration for my boldness and extreme horror over the concept a lady might have done what I did. His lips tightened and turned down to become lost in the mass of facial hair that covered his chin.

  "It was quite terrifying, General," I said, keeping my voice soft and my eyes wide open. It was helpful he not think of me as a kick butt type of ninja female warrior; yes, playing the role of vulnerable female seemed to be the route to take. "I beg you to forgive my current appearance, but all my belongings have been lost, and I've been forced to accept the charity and kindness of strangers." I blinked my eyes a couple of times for good measure, and hoped beyond hope I didn't sound too much like Blanche in A Streetcar Named Desire.

  "You are just shameless," Kipp remarked, his muzzle pressed into the fragrant grass. His eyes crossed slightly as he followed the progress of a large beetle that was walking across his forepaws.

  "Hey, good buddy, I've seen you pull out a few tricks, too," I replied lightly to Kipp, who rolled his eyes at me.

  "May I have my sergeant bring you a beverage, ma'am?" Thorpe asked. "We have fresh coffee or perhaps some water?"

  "What, no buttermilk?" Kipp interjected.

  "Some coffee would be very nice," I said, folding my hands primly on my lap.

  "I, of course, will have to interview your brother," Thorpe said, smiling in satisfaction as the sergeant put on his hostess hat and presented both me and Murphy battered tin cups filled with steaming coffee. The handles were almost too hot to touch. "The allegations of being involved in stealing the General are serio
us ones. And the fact the men were captured out of uniform, including your brother, compounds the injury." He didn't need to add that being caught as a spy was automatically a capital offense. It was clear he was trying to avoid upsetting me with the news. "But I plan on giving a fair hearing and will allow you and Mr. Murphy to contribute," he concluded, happy that he could be magnanimous in his little fiefdom. Perhaps I could have leapt out of my chair, given a curtsey and bowed over his hand but chose not to. Since we were present and ready for a disposition, he asked the sergeant to have Peter brought out first. While we waited, Thorpe commented on the growth of Atlanta as well as the nice change of weather.

  "Traveling in the rain and sleeping in tents on soggy ground makes for unpleasant days," Thorpe remarked, smiling. His teeth, for a man of his advanced years, were surprisingly intact and only marginally stained from tobacco and coffee.

  "I can't imagine the hardships," I said, leaning forward slightly. "Have you always been a military man?"

  "Oh, for goodness sakes, Petra! Why don't you just tell him the very thought of it gives you vapors, and you just might swoon?" Kipp rolled on his back, working his spine into the grass to relieve a persistent itch.

  "Hey, I'm working this, so leave me alone," I replied, with a hard glance at Kipp.

  "Yeah, Kipp. I think she is doing a grand job so don't distract her," Elani interjected in a rare moment of disagreement with him. She really missed the nuances of our relationship with one another. We played rough like brother and sister, teasingly critical, but in truth, not at all. It was a stress reliever, and maybe one day, when she and Peter were more experienced, she'd understand that.

  "Being ganged up on by a couple of girls," Kipp muttered.

  "Yes, ma'am. I actually graduated from West Point and have been military all my life," Thorpe replied, as he answered my query. "It is the only way I know."