Quinn's War, Page 4

  Chapter 4

  Six weeks after leaving the inn, Elizabeth Stiles rode back to Six Mile with a letter from Jim Lane, which she delivered to Col. Hoyt. He read the letter and handed it back to her. “Have a seat, Elizabeth. I see you had a productive leave in Washington. Jim Lane is one of the good ones.”

  “I have a confession to make. I never met the man. That letter is a forgery--written by Lafayette Baker. I’m not denying the content is accurate, though.” She laughed.

  “It’s an auspicious beginning, isn’t it? A forged introduction to the world of spying. It’s good to see you. If you stay in St. Louis, I know our paths will cross.

  “I’m going there, but I don’t know how long I’ll stay. General Blunt was not forthcoming in his description of what my duties might be.”

  Hoyt nodded. “Blunt knows, but won’t say. If you had talked to Jim Lane he would have told you more than you wanted to know. At this point, Elizabeth, it really doesn’t matter. You have your people in St. Louis, and they will tell you everything you need to know.”

  “What can you tell me, Colonel? I’m afraid I’m about to deliver myself into the lion’s den.”

  “It’s more like having a ticket to the whole circus, Elizabeth. Since the rebellion, St. Louis has become a city like no other. All the issues and problems Missouri had during the border wars have been brought to one place and thrown together. The city looks and operates as it did before. The cotton market and the slave pens are gone, but both still get brokered in side streets.

  The state’s got a governor who has plans to deliver Missouri to Jeff Davis, and St. Louis has a mayor who is in the Gratiot Street Military Prison for conspiring to overthrow the government. They’ve got a Judge Advocate General who is a slave-holding Unionist who has said he believes every abolitionist should be hanged. There’s no clear distinction between who’s a rebel sympathizer and who’s a secessionist, and the prisons are full. The city is under martial law. It’s only the presence of federal troops that keeps Wide Awakes and the Minutemen from waging battle in the streets by day and by night riding like Quantrill through the city exacting revenge on the folks they don’t like. If you’ve got a cause, you’ll find support there. If you’re out for revenge, you can find someone who’ll trade you stories. Everybody’s got somebody who’s been a victim of battle or depredation, and they’ll be happy to enlist you in their fight. My advice is to decide clearly what you want to do. Then go to the people who can help you and stick close to the people you trust. Above all, declare your allegiance to no one in public.”

  Hoyt pointed to the letter. “Jim Lane says--excuse me Lafayette Baker says--you have important work to do. What is it you want to do?”

  “I want to stop being that woman who laid there helpless in the street. I want to ride with the Redlegs, but I know that’s not possible. I want to do something, something that has a real effect, something that makes a difference. Does that make any sense?”

  “As much as anything.”

  “General Blunt has given me sealed papers to be delivered.”

  “Your first job. So you’ve already started. I’ll give you a good horse, a pistol, and a list of people I trust. Do you need money?”

  “I have enough to get me there. And thanks for the offer. Ordinarily, I’d take you up on it, but this time all I need is a purse pistol and a ticket on a riverboat.”

  “I’ll have an envelope made up with some confederates and some greenbacks. The bogus bills might be useful for you. Did Blunt say anything about putting you on payroll?”

  Elizabeth smiled and nodded. “You were fishing. You knew, didn’t you?”

  “I didn’t hear it from Blunt, I assure you. Yes, I knew. Franklin Dick, the Provost. His name is on the papers you carry. You get paid seven dollars a day, same as me. Scout or spy?” He laughed. “We’re all the same, Elizabeth. That makes us part of the same unit, then, doesn’t it? Maybe we need to have an initiation or something.”

  Elizabeth’s first response melted into a smile. “Only if you want everyone to know you get paid the same as a woman!” They laughed.

  “Elizabeth. Wait here. I’ll be right back.” Hoyt returned and handed a package to her. “You don’t have to wear them, but I think you should have them. Come back here and there may be an occasion for you to put them on.”

  Elizabeth opened the package and unrolled a pair of pink lambskin leggings and held them up. “Col. Hoyt. I am pleased and honored.” She dropped them into her lap. “This means a lot. I’ll carry them with me and they will remind me of you and your men. Thank you.” She paused and then said, “I do hope I can find the occasion to wear them.”

  “Now you are a properly initiated Redleg scout.” He looked at her and smiled. “And now that you are, I will tell you what your plans are. You won’t travel on a riverboat. Odds are if the ice doesn’t get you some bushwhacking sharpshooter looking for an easy target will at least give you grief. The big boats are carrying troops and materiel up and down the Mississippi, and only the little ones are left to navigate that mean little river on our border. I’ll arrange your travel by train. Once you get to Hannibal you will take a river boat down to St. Louis. It’s secure from there. And I will outfit you properly—a pistol for your purse and a ‘Fear of God’ revolver in your carpetbag. You know the muff pistol is for show, and not for killing, don’t you? I wouldn’t rely on it.”

  “I won’t. But it is nice to have. It makes me feel like I can. Not just if I have to, but that I can."