“He’s got to be,” Gideon replied. “He’s got a tough job!”
By December 24, Tyler had exchanged his crutches for a cane. When he admitted Frankie at the door early that evening, she noted the change at once. “Oh, you’re walking so much better, Tyler!” she exclaimed.
“Yes, and ready to get better still!” He smiled, surveying the young woman who was smiling at him. He was not surprised that Frankie had arrived for the party wearing her usual garb instead of a dress. He’d told her the occasion would be informal, but he knew any other young woman would have come dressed to the teeth. Still, he had to admit that she looked very well. With a grin, he said, “Come on in. We’ve got to sample the eggnog.”
The party was not large; it was small enough for all the guests to assemble in the large parlor. Frankie had met most of those present: Tyler’s grandparents, Stephen and Ruth Rocklin, and Tyler’s younger brothers, Robert and Frank, she had met several times while taking care of Tyler. She’d met Major Rocklin’s sister, Laura, and had heard her husband, Amos Steele, preach many times. One of their sons, Clinton, she hadn’t met before, and their two other sons were not able to be there.
“And this is my daughter, Deborah, Miss Aimes. And this is Private Noel Kojak, her fiancé.” Laura Steele smiled as she introduced the couple to Frankie, adding, “We’re very fortunate to have Noel here for Christmas.”
“Tyler told me about how you helped him escape from a Confederate hospital, Miss Steele,” Frankie said. “I couldn’t have done a thing like that!”
Deborah Steele was a beautiful young woman, and Frankie noted that she had as much poise as any man. “I think you could, Miss Aimes,” she said, smiling. “Uncle Gideon has been telling us how you jumped in and took care of Tyler. I think you must be very resourceful.”
Noel said, “I only hope your future husband has better sense than to get himself put in a Confederate hospital under guard.” Frankie considered the young soldier. He was not handsome, but his steady gray eyes and regular features gave him a pleasant appearance. He looked rather shyly at Frankie, adding, “I’m glad you’re here tonight, Miss Aimes. We’re all grateful for the way you helped Tyler and Mrs. Rocklin.”
“Watch out, Frankie!” Tyler had come to stand beside Frankie, his eyes gleaming with humor. “That fellow is deceiving! He’s a writer, you know, and if you’re not careful, he’ll put you in one of his stories!”
They stood there chatting, and Frankie slowly relaxed. She had been rather terrified of coming, for she knew her manners were rough. But Tyler stayed beside her, making it easy for her. He sat next to her while they talked and made it a point at dinner to sit at the big table at her right.
The meal was stupendous: turkey, dressing, ham, vegetables, baked breads, apple pie, all cooked exquisitely. Frankie soon was able to relax and eat without worrying too much over her manners. She listened as the talk and laughter flowed around the table, deciding that this was a happy family—totally unlike her own.
Amos Steele glanced at her at one point during the meal and said, “I know how much you miss Sol Levy, Miss Aimes. The rest of us feel his loss, too. He was wonderful with the men! I think he must have won at least fifty of them to the Lord!” His words brought a warmth to Frankie, and she was pleased when Major Rocklin joined in the conversation, speaking of the work her friend had done.
After the meal, there was a little ceremony in the parlor. Gideon read the Christmas story from the Bible, and Rev. Steele spoke briefly about the meaning of the birth of Jesus. Then everyone bowed their heads while one of the family members prayed.
It was over about ten o’clock, and Tyler limped out to the carriage with Frankie. When she was bundled up inside, he looked at her, saying with some hesitation, “I’m glad you came, Frankie. My family took you in…I could tell. I mean the others, of course, the Steeles and Noel. My parents already think you’re very special.”
“It was wonderful,” Frankie said, a smile lighting her face. “I won’t forget it.” Then she said, “Good night, Tyler!” and the coach pulled off.
Tyler stood there staring after the carriage as it disappeared. He frowned and muttered aloud, “Have I done the right thing?” He shook his head doubtfully, then took a deep breath.
“It’ll be all right,” he said with a nod. “She’ll see how it is.…”
Then, with another shake of his head, he limped back inside.
“I suppose you’re wondering why I wanted to see you, Miss Aimes?”
Frankie was sitting nervously on one of the three straight-backed chairs in the office to which a corporal had led her. He’d given her a message from Major Rocklin, which said briefly, “Mr. Allan Pinkerton would like to talk to you. The corporal who brings this note will take you to his office.”
Frankie looked at the detective, nodded, and waited for his answer.
“Well, I suppose you know what it is that I do?” Pinkerton was standing beside a window and gave her a sudden smile. “Nobody is supposed to know about the Secret Service. And, of course, everybody does. You’ve heard of it, I would suppose?”
“Why, yes, sir.” Frankie nodded. “The men talk about you a lot.”
“Ah, well, there it is!” Pinkerton frowned and came to stand beside the pine desk. “Impossible to keep a thing this large a secret. Quite impossible.” He pulled out a cigar, lit it, and, when it was drawing to his satisfaction, looked at her keenly. “Miss Aimes, I need your help.”
Surprise showed clearly on Frankie’s face. At once she shook her head. “Why, I can’t think what I could do for a man like you!”
“No? Let me tell you, then. The war is stepping up, Miss Aimes, and soon there is going to be a great battle. The North has to move an enormous amount of supplies and a great many troops to the South. Now the South doesn’t really have to move much. It’s their home ground, and they know it like a man knows his own backyard. When the attack comes, our generals and our officers will be at a great disadvantage. They won’t know the territory, and they won’t know the strength of the enemy.”
He paused for a long moment, then said evenly, “My job is to see that General McClellan does know those things. And I’ll use anything or anyone I can to help our army achieve a victory.”
Frankie saw that the small man was entirely serious, but she was totally bewildered. “But…Mr. Pinkerton, I’ve never even been in the South! I couldn’t help—”
Pinkerton interrupted her, saying, “You are a great friend of Private Tyler Rocklin, Miss Aimes?”
“Why…yes.”
“Well, he came to me recently with a very interesting proposal. A proposal that requires your help if it is to succeed.” Pinkerton drew on his cigar, then suddenly sat down in the chair behind the desk. “He said that he has a relative who has just contracted to take pictures of upcoming battles for the Confederate government. I think he’s mentioned this to you?”
“Yes. Paul Bristol is his name, isn’t it?”
“That’s the man. Private Rocklin has been thinking about a plan involving this situation. Though his days as a soldier are over—for a time, at least—Rocklin wants to serve his country.”
“What does he want to do?”
“He wants you to go to Richmond and work for this man Bristol.” Pinkerton was watching the young woman’s face carefully and saw a flicker come to her green eyes. “Yes, you will be an agent working for the government of the United States.” He grew excited then, adding, “It’s perfect! Photographers go everywhere, and both sides leave them alone. Our Mathew Brady has proven this. So you will travel as an assistant to Bristol, and you will collect information, which you will pass on to Tyler Rocklin.”
“To Tyler?”
“Oh yes! He will be there in Virginia, too. Under cover, of course. He wants to help our cause, and he was certain that you’d want to do the same.”
Frankie shook her head. “I—I couldn’t do it, Mr. Pinkerton. I couldn’t be a spy!”
The next fifteen minutes
were among the worst that Frankie had ever known. She tried desperately to convince the man across from her that she could not do what he asked, but he refused to give in. Finally she grew angry. “I won’t do it!” she cried, rising out of her chair.
She had reached the door when Pinkerton said calmly, “That’s very unfortunate. It’s going to be hard on your brother, Timothy.”
Frankie whirled and stared at Pinkerton. “What does my brother have to do with this?”
“Haven’t you heard about the new conscription act?”
“What’s that?”
“A new law, Miss Aimes. Able-bodied men will be conscripted, that is, taken into the army. We need more soldiers, and we aren’t getting enough volunteers. Congress just passed the act, and your brother is the right age.”
Frankie stared at Pinkerton. “Tim can’t be a soldier! He’s been sick all his life! Forcing him to be a soldier would probably kill him!”
Pinkerton’s blue-gray eyes were cold. “Be that as it may, I believe he’ll be conscripted, Miss Aimes. Unless, of course, you agree to help your country. If you volunteered, I believe I have enough influence to get your brother exempted.”
Frankie had never felt such rage as washed over her at that moment, but with a jolt she realized it was hopeless. Everything in her hated the idea of being a spy, but the thought of poor Timothy being thrown into the rough life of a soldier…He wouldn’t live a week! she thought desperately.
“Well, Miss Aimes? Which will it be? You or your brother?”
Squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin, Frankie gave Pinkerton a level look. “I’ll do it…what you say.” Her voice was even and cold. “But it won’t work. I don’t know a thing about taking pictures. And Bristol would never hire a girl, anyway.”
Pinkerton smiled. “Oh, I think we can handle those two problems. Mathew Brady has agreed to train you in the science of taking pictures. And Tyler has told me how much Major Rocklin appreciates your kindness to him. He’ll tell his father that you want a job and ask him to write his cousin Paul a letter of recommendation concerning one Frankie Aimes, aspiring photographer.”
Frankie shook her head, feeling as though she was drowning. “But…I’m from the North! He won’t hire a Yankee!”
“Ah, another excellent point. Which is exactly why the letter will state that you have no political affiliations, that all you want to do is take pictures. It will suffice, believe me!”
Then Allan Pinkerton smiled, his eyes shining. “Welcome to the Secret Service, Miss Aimes!”
CHAPTER 12
FRANKIE LEARNS A TRADE
Allan Pinkerton was two men, Frankie quickly decided. He was capable of crushing anyone who stood in his way, and yet he could show great kindness to those who cooperated with him. Frankie tried to put this in a letter to Timothy but was hampered by knowing that she must not say too much. It occurred to her that Pinkerton might have her letters intercepted, so she said nothing at all about becoming an agent for the Federal Secret Service.
Dear Timothy,
I’m writing to tell you that I will not be working as a sutler for the army any longer. Since Mr. Levy died, I have not been able to do as well, so I have decided to accept a new job. I am being trained by Mr. Mathew Brady to make pictures, and when I am ready, I will travel over the country taking all sorts of pictures.
I was so nervous when I first went to Brady’s gallery, because he is a famous man. But he was so nice to me that I quickly felt at ease. He showed me all over the studio—which is very large!—and introduced me to all of his employees. One of them, a young man named James Tinney, will train me since Mr. Brady is too busy to take much time for lowly pupils!
It may be that I will have to leave here suddenly to begin the work, so don’t be worried if my letters don’t come as often. I’ll write when I can and will keep on sending money for the girls. You can write me in care of Brady’s studio in New York for now.
Love, Frankie
She put the letter inside an envelope, sealed it with wax, then addressed it. She glanced around the small room that Pinkerton had found for her, thinking, It won’t take me long to become a liar in this job! The reality of what was happening to her was far different from what she had stated to Timothy. Pinkerton had taken the reins firmly in hand, giving her little to say about anything. He had found a room for her and assigned her to one of his chief agents: a tall man named Nick Biddle, who spent considerable time with both Frankie and Tyler.
With a sigh, Frankie rose from the small table, slipped into her heavy coat, and left the room. As she made her way down Broadway, she thought of how difficult it had been for her to adjust to Tyler after her meeting with Pinkerton. He had arrived at her tent the day after the meeting and was enthusiastic, to say the least. His eyes had been glowing, and although his leg still gave him problems, he could not keep still. He had spoken with excitement of all that they might do, finally saying, “I can’t be a soldier, Frankie, but I can do this, and it might mean more to my country than being a private!”
He had been so eager, his face so filled with the desire to serve! But Frankie was still fighting the anger she’d felt at the pressure put on her by Pinkerton. She had assumed that Tyler was somehow involved in Pinkerton’s threat against Timothy—how else could Pinkerton have known she even had a brother except from Tyler?
But as Tyler had spoken, she’d studied him carefully, and her certainty began to ebb. Maybe he didn’t have anything to do with it, she thought and finally decided to test him. Cautiously she said, “It’ll be hard for me to be so far away from my family, especially Timothy.” Tyler had nodded and voiced his regret. Then Frankie had said casually, “I’ve been worried about the new conscription law, Tyler.”
Tyler had stared at her with blank surprise. “Why, you’re not thinking about your brother, are you? I thought he was an invalid.”
“Oh, he is, but he’s able to be out of bed and to work around the house. What if they just take him and put him in the army?”
“Frankie, there’s no danger of that,” Tyler had responded at once. “I’ve talked to my father about it, and he says they’re only going to take able-bodied men.”
As he had rushed to explain the way the law worked, Frankie realized he was concerned for her, that he didn’t want her worrying about her brother. There was such an innocence and honesty in Tyler’s broad face that relief had washed over Frankie as she decided, He doesn’t know about Pinkerton’s threat!
Now as Frankie entered Brady’s Daguerreotype Gallery, she felt again that sense of relief. It would have been very difficult to work with Tyler feeling the resentment she’d felt earlier. She was still bitter at being forced to do something she didn’t agree with, but at least she knew that Tyler was in no way responsible.
James Tinney met her as she entered the laboratory, smiling as he said, “Good morning, Miss Aimes. Ready for another lesson?”
“Yes, Mr. Tinney.”
“Oh, call me James,” the young man said. “Come along. I think you’re ready for something new.”
As Tinney led Frankie to a large table covered with photographic equipment, she wondered how much he knew about her mission. Brady knew, for Pinkerton had spoken of it when introducing Frankie to the photographer. “This young lady,” he’d said, “will be working for the Secret Service on the other side of the line, Mr. Brady. She’ll need to know a great deal about taking pictures.” Brady, an ardent patriot, had found the plan fascinating and had pledged to do everything he could to help.
Frankie was certain that neither Tinney nor any of the other employees had any idea of her real task. As far as they were concerned, she was just a young woman who had somehow gotten Mr. Brady to agree to teach her the skills of photography.
Tinney turned, and his bushy beard fascinated Frankie. It covered his entire lower face so that only his ruddy lips appeared. I wonder if he keeps that brush just to cover a weak chin? she wondered, but decided that the young man felt the whiskers m
ade him look older. He was no more than twenty, Brady had confided in her, and yet he was one of his best men.
“Now you’ve learned quite a bit about working with daguerreotypes—and I must say you’ve picked the elements up very quickly!—but I want to show you something this morning that’s going to make all that outdated before you know it!”
“You mean daguerreotypes won’t be used any longer?”
“Oh, they’ll be around for a while.” Tinney shrugged, looked around cautiously, then added in a lower voice, “Mr. Brady got his start with daguerreotypes, so he clings to them. But the future of photography lies in wet plates.”
“Wet plates?” Frankie asked in a puzzled tone. “Sounds like dishes being washed!”
Tinney laughed and went on to explain, which he loved to do! “Back in 1851, Miss Frankie, photography took a giant step forward. An English sculptor named Frederick Scott Archer came up with a new method of preserving an image. You know what collodion is? A sticky liquid made by dissolving nitrated cotton in a mixture of alcohol and ether. It’s used as an agent to make the light-sensitive image adhere to a glass plate.”
As Tinney spoke, showing Frankie various elements of the process, she concentrated on every word, knowing that the success of Pinkerton’s scheme depended on her ability to perform.
“You see,” Tinney concluded, “the ether and alcohol evaporate quickly, leaving behind a smooth, transparent film on the glass. This glass is sensitized by dipping it into a bath of silver nitrate solution. The sensitivity is lost when the plate dries. Then all you do is develop it in a solution of ferrous sulfate with acetic acid. Then you simply ‘fix’ the image by dipping it into a solution of potassium cyanide.”
Frankie asked, “And you make a picture from the plate?”
Appomattox Saga Omnibus 2: Three Books In One (Appomatox Saga) Page 14