“Yes, ma’am. I’ll do the honors of escorting you personally. Men, fan out and search those carriages. Leave no stone unturned.” This time Simon genuinely moaned.
As they traveled to her home, Rachel noticed the lieutenant swatting at numerous flies buzzing about his face.
“You do have problems with loop flies,” she offered sympathetically as he rode his quarter horse abreast of her carriage.
“I never heard of loop flies.”
“Simon is an expert. Do tell Lieutenant Washburn what loop flies are.”
Simon bent his head with earnest and humble admission. “Loop flies are common on farms as they are almost always found loopin’ around a horse’s rear.”
After a full minute, Lieutenant Washburn snapped at her. “Is your boy calling me a horse’s rear?”
“Oh no,” she chided the lieutenant sweetly. “Simon has complete respect for all Confederate officers. He would never think of calling one a horse’s rear.”
Simon snapped the reins and she was jerked back, leaving Lieutenant Washburn in their dust.
Chapter Two
“Can you hear me, Simon?” Rachel demanded.
He pulled his ears out from his head at right angles. “I got ears. You ain’t goin’ in that room with that man no more. He’s awake now, and I don’t trust him. I smell a rat, and you’re goin’ to find yourself bound in a trap.”
“I can only be hanged once,” she sniffed, fingering the satin fringe on the drapes. A full week had passed since they rescued the prisoner and gambled bringing him to her home.
While gazing out her window, she shivered with the dust and odor of desolation. Seton Plantation, her ancestral home once rose imposing, but with years of war, it lay in ruin, a pale shadow of its former majesty. The lawns and gardens lay unkempt, the fields rioted with weeds, the fences were torn down for firewood, and the tumbledown slave cabins sat empty.
Not one penny would she put into repairs of an unholy edifice that symbolized cruelty and misery, and stood, shrunken from the world, hoping to be invisible, a crumbling ghastly silhouette of some previous existence she wanted no part. Grandfather, if he were alive, would have been in a temper. Rachel didn’t care one bit.
“That’s a fine thing. I must protect you with every ounce of my backside. And you invitin’ that Lieutenant Washburn to follow us home. Pure craziness.”
Used to the devotion of her servant, Rachel smiled. He was still angry from the episode a week ago. “It happened to be the best I could improvise. Besides, Lieutenant Washburn practically swooned when I fainted into his arms.”
“And if I didn’t whip them horses around the house, he would have swooned some more if he caught that spy he was lookin’ for in the bottom of your carriage.”
Rachel laughed and ruffled his jet-black hair. They were united in their goals of ending the evil of southern slaveholders and over the years had developed an extraordinary bond.
“It ain’t proper,” he pouted. “If anyone were to find out you’re the Saint, they’d hang us higher than the moon.”
“No one’s going to find out. There are only two Union officials who have that knowledge. I promise it’s going to stay that way. Furthermore, I’m too careful.”
Simon stuck his lower lip out, like he always did when he swelled with stubbornness. “Lately, you’ve been takin’ too many risks for my blood to warm.”
“We’ve important work to do. The Union needs us. We exercise a small role but an important one. You know it’s the only way we can get things changed. We can’t lose our perspective.” She moved to hug him, but he put his hand up, not in the mood to be cajoled.
“What if he’s spy-workin’ for the South to find out who the Saint is?”
Why would anyone go to such lengths?“The only way to find out is by what we’re doing. I’ll simply use my instincts. They haven’t failed me yet.”
He swatted the air. “There’s always a first time.”
She laughed to cover her fear. As the Confederacy teetered from General Grant’s hammering blows, the South grew increasingly desperate. Each mission she undertook bore a more dangerous struggle. At Jefferson Davis’ ball, she had learned about the “Big Fish” whom the Confederates interrogated. She had snatched him from beneath their noses. All of Richmond rose in a blistering fury.
That “Big Fish” currently resided in the bedroom next to hers. Many nights, she had cared for him, dressing his wounds, and forcing laudanum down his throat to ease his pain. With her captive conscious now, she held a frantic sliver of hope to obtain information from him. Simon’s warning rang. If he worked as a double agent, he’d sell her to the Confederacy for the highest bid.
Hadn’t he vowed to kill the Saint? If he worked for the North and felt betrayed by the Saint, by being caught by Confederates, then his distrust would hold them at odds. A dark chill ran down her spine.
His stamina in disabling the guard when he was so weak and his terrific strength of mind, regardless of the tortures he endured was admirable. He did not break. One of those rare men who walked the earth honor bound.
