"He rode with Quantrill. For a while."
"He's a Confederate."
"Let's not talk of James right now. Let me explain something about myself. I am a spy, but not a Confederate spy. I work with a respected Union officer in collecting information that will help our Union Army."
"Is the officer here in St. Joseph?"
"No, but he's within traveling distance."
"Why do you have to travel? Why can't you give the information to one of the officers in St. Joseph?"
"If my work is to be effective, only one man must know who I am. I must be able to trust him, and he must be able to trust me. The Union officers in St. Joseph don't know me, and must not know about me. If my identity were well known, the Confederates would soon learn of it, too, and then my work would be useless."
Peg was insistent. "James was with Quantrill."
Miss Hennessey closed her eyes as though she were exhausted. When she opened them she said, "I
learned from James the route Quantrill and his men would take on their ride into Texas. And I later learned about General Blunt's move from Fort Scott to Fort Gibson. I realized the danger Blunt and his company could be in if they crossed paths with Quantrill.
"It would take time to get the information to General Blunt, and I was frantic. I knew I'd be meeting up with Union Army patrols, and I couldn't afford to be stopped and questioned. It was chance that I met your sister, Frances. However, when I learned from her where your brother Danny lived, I knew that the area would be ideal for Nellie and Louis. You'd want the opportunity to see Danny, and if I had a child riding with me my trip likely would not be questioned."
As Miss Hennessey paused. Peg squeezed her eyes shut in agony. "You planned all this before we even met. I thought you invited me to travel with you because you wanted my company."
"I did enjoy your company. Peg."
Hurting, Peg hugged her shoulders. "I was just somebody to be there to make things easier for you. You didn't care how you used me."
"I cared about you, Peg! Believe me! But I also cared about saving the lives of hundreds of men. That had to come first."
Peg tried to gulp down the lump that tightened her throat. "When you went into the Parkers' house, and I was kept outside, you gave the message to Mr. Parker, didn't you?"
"Yes. Louis was to carry it to General Blunt. But Louis was shot by a bushwhacker who tried to kill and rob him. He didn't get to General Blunt."
"Then that's why you were so sad, wasn't it?"
"Yes. It was terrible to think we had failed."
Peg thought again about that first meeting with the
Parkers. "You only pretended that you hadn't seen your sister for five years, didn't you?"
"That's correct. Nellie and I have worked together for the Union since my husband, Daniel Hennessey, was killed during the first year of the war. Women spies are not shot or hanged when they're caught, so Nellie and I made the decision to work together to help our Union forces."
"What about Mr. Parker?"
"Louis is very brave. He had been woimded in battle and sent home. When he recovered he insisted on joining Nellie and me."
Peg couldn't resist asking, "What might happen to you if someday you're caught?"
Miss Hennessey sighed as she said, "I was captured once—in Arkansas—and imprisoned by the Confederates, but my jail was a poorly constructed frame building, and I was able to loosen some boards and escape. I made my way to Kansas, and was almost caught again in the Lawrence massacre."
"Oh!" Peg gasped as the thought struck her. "Frances brought you to our house. Does she know?"
"No," Miss Hennessey answered. "You're the only one in whom I've confided."
She stood and walked to the window, holding aside the lace curtain so she could look out at the streets. For a few minutes neither she nor Peg spoke. Finally, Miss Hennessey turned back to Peg, letting the curtain drop behind her. "I'll leave St. Joseph within a short time. I'll make contact with my Union officer and give him the extremely important information I was sent here to learn."
"Did James give you that information?"
"There's no need for you to know my source," she answered.
As Peg tried to sort out all that she'd heard, Miss Hennessey said, "You can see that my life—and Nellie's and Louis's lives—are in your hands."
"Don't say that!" Peg insisted. "It isn't fair!"
Miss Hennessey's eyes were deep and dark, her gaze intent on Peg's face. "Fair? It's hard to think about being fair. I have answered your questions truthfully, and I promise that I'll never ask you to travel with me again. As I told you, soon I'll leave St. Joseph, probably never to return."
Her mind in a torment, Peg studied Miss Hennessey. Like the little chameleon lizard Marcus had once caught and brought to school—its skin changing from brown to green and brown again—Miss Hennessey now was neither the beautiful, self-assured woman nor the timid, mousy woman Peg had known. She looked tired and frail and so pitiful that, in spite of her quandary. Peg's heart ached for her.
"Will you keep my secret? What is your answer, Peg?" Miss Hennessey asked.
Peg couldn't speak. She needed time to think. What could she answer?
When Peg dragged through the back door, Ma was in what Mr. Murphy called "a real stew."
"Where have you been so late?" Ma demanded.
Peg's only answer was to hold her skirts up over her knees.
Ma took a look at Peg's legs, pushed her into the nearest kitchen chair, and bent to examine her knees more closely. "Merciful heavens!" she said. "Pull off those stockings, missy, and we'll tend to cleaning the scrapes. How in the world did you do this?"
"I fell," Peg said.
"Chasing that Marcus Hurd, no doubt. I have a good mind to speak to the boy's mother, although from what I hear she has plenty of other family problems to contend with."
As Ma went on, her steam slowly dying down like
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the steam from a kettle taken from the fire, Peg held her tongue. For now her mind was filled with what Miss Hennessey had told her and what she had answered.
She had believed Miss Hennessey. She had to believe. "I'll keep your secret," Peg had told her, even though the responsibility of the promise had scared her right down to her toes.
"Ouch!" she muttered as Ma pried a tiny pebble from the torn skin.
"Sorry, love," Ma said. "I'm trying to be as gentle as possible, but I have to get all the dirt out." She sighed. "You want me to think of you as grown up, and then you come home with a perfectly good pair of stockings torn to shreds, and looking as disheveled as though you'd been in a fight. That Marcus!"
"Don't blame Marcus," Peg said. "It wasn't his fault."
"So you're the one who started it this time, are you?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"I can't say that I blame you."
"Ma, I'm sorry! Let's not talk about it anymore. Please?"
Silently, Ma sponged and patted, then wrapped Peg's skinned knees in soft, clean cloths. She had no sooner finished than John arrived home.
He hung his coat on a peg near the back door and turned to his wife, sadly shaking his head. "Even though I'm Federal and loyal to the bone, I'm thinking that putting the state of Missouri under military rule might have been a big mistake."
"The military had to do something to stop the southern sympathizers," Ma countered. She washed her hands and began to dish up bowls of what looked
and smelled like a delicious vegetable stew. "They were threatening Federals, burning their bams and houses, and running them off their land."
"Well, now the sympathizers have been bold enough to slip into St. Joe again. They've done a terrible thing. They recognized a man who they claimed was posing as a Confederate, but whom they suspected of being a Union spy. They chased him down, dragged him out of town before the authorities could act, and hanged him from the branch of an old oak tree near the river."
Peg grew so cold she felt
faint, and the spoon she'd been holding dropped from her hand. "Who was the man?" she whispered.
John shrugged. "I don't know. No one from around here, I was told."
Ma sank into her chair, her shoulders drooping. "This terrible war has to end soon," she said, "before we are all destroyed."
Was the murdered man James? Peg wondered. And if he was, and it's known that he'd brought information to Miss Hennessey, then what will become of her? Will she be arrested and imprisoned, as she said she might?
"Peg? Peg? Where are you off to, love?"
Peg realized that Ma was speaking to her. "I'm sorry. Ma," she managed to say. "What did you ask me?"
"You're not eating," Ma said. "I asked why."
"I—I don't feel like eating." So cold that she shivered, Peg pressed her hands against the pain in her stomach. "I feel sick. Ma. I hurt."
Noreen pressed a hand against Peg's forehead. "You haven't got a fever. That's a good sign," she said.
"I—it's m-my knees," Peg stammered, desperately searching for an excuse. "I—I just want to go to bed."
"They hurt that much? Well then, upstairs with you, love, and if you need or want anything—a nice soothing cup of peppermint tea, perhaps—just call me."
"Thanks, Ma." Peg scooted from her chair, bent to kiss Ma's forehead, and headed for the stairs.
"What's this about her knees?" she heard John ask, but Peg was in her room before Ma began her explanation.
Snuggled under her warm quilt and ignoring the sting of her skinned knees. Peg tried to sort out her thoughts. Miss Hennessey had said that she now had the information she needed. Although she hadn't admitted that James had brought it to her, he was the one whom she'd met in the alley.
Peg was sure that the Union spy who'd been hanged was James. And she was equally sure that Miss Hennessey would try to leave St. Joe as soon as possible.
She wouldn't travel at night. That would be much too dangerous. But come morning light, she'd probably leave, heading for Nellie and Louis Parker's house on River Road.
Without Peg.
Peg gave a little moan. Miss Hennessey had promised: "I'll never ask you to travel with me again." But she'd be in danger traveling alone. Peg had no idea what information she was bringing the Union officer. Maybe it was a spoken message. But maybe, since the information was so important, it was written down. With a young companion she could seem to be just a mother traveling with a daughter. But if she were alone, she'd be vulnerable to being stopped and searched.
Peg groaned, stuffing the edge of the quilt into her mouth to stifle the sound. / can't desert her. I can't let her travel alone. What should I do?
She thought again about Mike, who had gone into battle, risking his life for the Union. She thought about Frances Mary, who had bravely smuggled runaway slaves into Canada. And she thought about Danny, who was so eager to help his country.
Peg had told Danny, "There are other ways to help the Union besides fighting." And here was one of those ways—dropped right into her lap. She could be every bit as brave as her brothers and sisters and ride with Miss Hennessey, helping her to get her important information to the Union Army. All she had to do was plan a way to make it happen.
Tossing and squirming from side to side on sheets that had been pulled out and rumpled. Peg wondered how she could possibly work out a plan. If she explained everything to Ma, she'd have a fit and keep Peg home, safely under her care. So she couldn't tell Ma. Although Peg had hated keeping secrets from Ma, she still had done it; but under no circumstances would she deliberately deceive Ma. What was she going to do?
Exhausted, she finally slipped from bed and quietly opened her bedroom door. The house was dark and quiet, except for the rhythmic rumble of John Murphy's snoring.
Peg gently closed the door, made her way to the small desk in her room, and lit the oil lamp. From a drawer she pulled a sheet of paper. She fitted a pen-point into its holder, and opened a bottle of ink. She'd write to Ma. So very much had happened—enough to fill pages—but she'd tell Ma all the important things, at
least. And she'd tell her where she had gone, so early in the morning.
Ma would find the letter when Peg didn't appear downstairs, but by that time Peg was sure that she and Miss Hennessey would be on their way.
Peg bent over the paper, writing quickly, but dipping the pen carefully so drops of ink wouldn't blot her letter. She had written most of what she wanted to say when the door suddenly opened, and there stood Ma, clutching her wrapper together over her flannel nightgown. Startled, Peg dropped the pen.
"What are you doing?" Ma asked.
"I—I'm writing a letter."
"There's something very much the matter. Peg. What is it?"
Peg jumped up from her chair, ran to Ma, and wrapped her arms around her. As Ma hugged her in return, Peg's brave resolutions vanished, and she tucked her face into Ma's shoulder, not even trying to stop her tears.
Holding tightly. Ma guided Peg to the bed, where they sat side by side. Ma gently murmuring, snuggling, and patting, until Peg's tears turned into dry shudders and sobs.
"There now, love," Ma said. "The storm is over. Can we talk about what has upset you so much?"
"Oh, Ma," Peg said. "I wish the war was over."
"As do we all," Ma answered. "Is it the tales John brings home that are frightening you?"
Peg nodded. "That and the awful thing that happened to the spy . . . and ... all of it."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"No. I don't. I can't. Not right now."
Here she was, keeping things from Ma again, just what she didn't want to do. But Peg reminded herself
that when Ma read the letter in the morning, everything would be explained. It wasn't as though she were lying to Ma. She was just delaying in telling her what had happened and what was going to happen.
"What were you writing?" Ma asked, startling Peg so much that she jumped.
"A letter," Peg answered.
Ma's arms were firm and strong, and she gave Peg an extra hug. "I imderstand," she said. "Sometimes it's easier to put thoughts down on paper or talk them over with a sister than with anyone else. Well, if you're writing to Frances and Megan, give them my love."
Peg didn't try to explain. She didn't even have enough strength to fight the guilt that crawled up and down her backbone like one of Marcus's squirmy, slimy bugs.
"I'll smooth your bed, tuck you in, and turn out the light," Ma said. "It's best you sleep now and finish your letter in the morning before going to school."
Peg complied, the dark of the room stealing over her like an extra, cozy blanket. Drained of all thoughts and feelings, Peg immediately dropped into sleep.
But she woke early, before it was light, her body recharged and her mind racing.
It took just a line or two to finish the letter to Ma, and Peg propped it against her pillow. She dressed, wincing as she pulled her heavy cotton stockings over the raw spots on her knees. She pulled on her coat, tucked a shawl over her head and shoulders, and quietly climbed down the stairs, leaving the house through the front door.
Peg hurried as fast as she could, picking her way over holes and puddles and nervously jumping at sudden cricks and snicks in the darkness, until she reached Mrs. Kling's boardinghouse. The sky was light-
ening into a pearl-edged gray, so Peg recognized the boarder who came out of Mrs. Kling's front door as she approached it.
"Good morning," he said, stopping in front of her. "You're Miss Hennessey's young friend, aren't you?"
"Yes," Peg said. "I came to see her."
"Well, you won't find her here," he volunteered. "She left for the stables a few minutes ago."
"The stables?" Peg felt sick with dread. After all her planning, had she missed her?
The boarder smiled again. "Off to visit her sister, she said. But if you hurry, I'm sure you can catch up."
Heedless of the uneven cobblestones, the rubbish that littered the streets, and the pain in
her knees. Peg ran as fast as she could in the direction of the stables. She had to catch up with Miss Hennessey! She had to!
As Peg rounded the comer a horse and buggy clip-clopped toward her, and she saw that Miss Hennessey was holding the reins. Arms waving like windmills. Peg brought the buggy to a stop, then scrambled inside.
Miss Hennessey's eyes were wide with surprise. "What are you doing?"
"I'm going with you," Peg said. She settled herself, pulling her shawl more tightly around her.
"You can't."
Peg shook her head. "The man who was . . . hanged. It was James, wasn't it?"
Miss Hennessey nodded, and for the first time, in the thin early light. Peg saw that her eyes were red and swollen.
"You told me you had important information to give to the Union officer you work with," Peg said. "I'm here to help. We both know that you're less likely to be stopped and questioned if I'm with you."
"I'm not returning to St. Joe," Miss Hennessey said quietly. "You'd have no way to get back."
"I wrote to Ma. I told her only as much as she needed to know, and I told her I'd be making the trip with you. She'll come after me."
As Miss Hennessey hesitated, Peg said, "You can't just stay here. You have to leave quickly. Let's go."
Miss Hennessey gave a flip to the reins, and the horse started up. The day was cold and gray, with no hope of sunshine, and the early winter light seemed to pick and probe at broken bricks, holes in the streets, and boarded-up windows in shops from which owners had fled.
Peg shivered. "Do the bushwhackers who killed James know he had given information to you?"
"If they knew," Miss Hennessey said slowly, "I think they would have come to Mrs. Kling's to get me."
"Yes," Peg said with a sigh of reUef. "I think so, too."
But Miss Hennessey turned to face Peg. The fear that tightened the muscles around her mouth and widened her eyes leaped like a spark into Peg's heart, squeezing it with a cold hand.
"On the other hand, they may have been chased off by the Union patrols in and around St. Joe," she whispered. "Do they know about me? I really can't be
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