though, practically in Indiana. It’s not the worst news, and not the best news, but it’s news.”
“You think he’s on the level?”
The captain said, “I wouldn’t trust him to sort my laundry for free, but for a stack of green I think he’s solid enough. It’s how he makes his living, and he’s not a young man. If he were full of malarkey, someone would’ve killed him by now.”
“You’re full of sense, sir.”
“Let’s get back to the engineer and see what he’s scouted for us. It’s past midday now-”
“Not by much.”
Hainey said, “No, but I want to clear town sooner rather than later.”
The first mate made a little laugh. “You’re not worried about that Rebel woman, are you?”
The captain didn’t answer immediately, but when he did he said, “I’ve heard about her. I’ve heard a lot about her, mostly in the papers and partly through gossip. As far as I know she’s no dummy, and if half of what’s said about her is true, she’s not afraid to shoot a man if she feels the need.”
They reached the street and turned to the right, strolling towards the service docks and maintaining a casual pace. Hainey continued, “She was just a girl when the war started-maybe sixteen or seventeen, just a baby. But she didn’t have a lick of fear in her, not anywhere. She’s been in prison a few times, been married a few times, and killed a few fellows if they interfered with her. And these days,” he toyed with what he was thinking, then laid it out. “She’s only a little younger than me. Maybe in her forties. A woman who was that much trouble as a girl, well- now she’s had twenty-five years to learn new tricks.”
Simeon was silent.
Hainey said, “I’m not saying we ought to turn tail and run like dogs. I’m just saying that maybe it’s not an insult that she’s been picked to chase us down. Maybe we ought to keep our eyes open.”
“Do you know what she looks like?” Simeon wanted to know, but the captain didn’t have a photograph handy and he wasn’t sure he could pick her out of a crowd, anyway.
He said, “As I’ve heard it, she’s not much to look at-but she’s got a figure you’d notice if you were blind and ninety.”
“Not much to look at?”
“Yeah. It’s been said,” the captain mumbled, lowering his voice as they passed a pair of men cleaning a set of six-shooters in front of a saloon. “That she was young once, but never beautiful.”
“Sons of bitches, up there in Chicago,” the first mate said, pulling tobacco out of his pocket as if he’d only just remembered he had it. He flipped a paper loose with his thumb and started to roll a cigarette. “Can’t even send a pretty woman after us.”
Hainey didn’t answer because further discussion might’ve made him look paranoid, or weak. Simeon came from another place with its own set of problems, to be sure; but he wouldn’t have understood, maybe-how nothing on earth summoned a mob with a noose or a spray of bullets quite like a lady with an accent, and a problem with the way she’s been looked at.
Even a look, misinterpreted or even imagined.
And it had been decades since Croggon Beauregard Hainey had been a young man in a prison, accused of incorrect things and condemned to die; but that didn’t make the memory of it any easier to ignore or erase. So yes, all insistence to the contrary-and with the Rattler, and his men, and a full complement of guns stashed across his formidable body-he was more than a little concerned about a Southern woman with something to prove.
At that moment, a shy head ducked around the corner where Crutchfield stood on a stoop and conducted business. It was the same boy Hainey had threatened the night before, and he looked no less threatened to be standing in front of the captain once again.
“Sir?” he said, stopping both men.
Hainey snapped out of his reverie enough to ask, “What is it?”
“Sir, you have a telegram. It’s from Tacoma.”
The captain took the telegram, read it once, then read it again, and then he declared, “Well I’ll be damned.”
“What’s it say?” Simeon asked, even as he scanned it over Hainey’s shoulder. Before the captain could answer, Simeon had a new question. “What the hell does that mean? That’s about the strangest message I ever heard of. Do you know what it’s all about?”
FREE CROW CARRIES DAMNABLE MADAM CORPSE STOP WORD IN THE CLOUDS SAYS OSSIAN STEEN REQUIRES JEWELRY FOR WEAPON STOP SANATORIUM IS COVER FOR WEAPONS PLANT NO FURTHER WORD TO BE HAD STOP YOU OWE ME ONE STOP AC
Hainey’s scarred face split into a smile. “Cly, you bastard. All right, I owe you one.”
“Cly? The captain?”
“That’s his initials there at the end. He’s the one who sent it,” he confirmed.
Simeon shook his head and said, “But what’s he’s talking about?”
And the captain replied, “I don’t know who this Steen fellow is, but the rest of it’s given me something to think about, sure enough.”
“Can you think and steal a ship at the same time?” the first mate asked.
“I could knit a sweater and steal a ship at the same time, and don’t you josh me about it. Come on. Let’s grab the coach, get the Rattler ready, and see what Lamar’s been up to. We’ve got a
6. MARIA ISABELLA BOYD
She arrived at Jefferson City in the near-light hours of the morning; but since she’d stolen most of a night’s sleep inside the
According to the helpful folder of paperwork Maria carried, Mr. Rice could be found in an office at the center of town, half a dozen blocks from the city’s passenger docks. In the heart of the city the streets were bumpy with bricks and the buildings were built three, sometimes four stories tall with tasteful trim components and neatly lettered advertisements. Groceries were nestled against law offices and apothecaries, and a veterinarian’s facility was planted between a carriage-house and a billiards hall.
And at the street corner named in her folder, she found a small office with a white painted sign that declared in black lettering, “Mr. Algernon T. Rice, Private Investigator, Pinkerton National Detective Agency (Jefferson City Branch).”
On the other side of the door she found an empty receptionist’s desk; and beyond that desk in a secondary room, she located Mr. Rice.
“Please pardon the receptionist,” he said. “We don’t actually have one right now. But won’t you come inside, and have a seat? I understand this is your first outing as a Pinkerton operative.”
“Yes, that’s right,” she told him, and when he stood to greet her she allowed him to take her hand before she positioned herself delicately on the edge of the high-backed chair that faced his desk.
Algernon Rice was a slender, pale man who looked quite villainous except for the jaunty orange handkerchief peeking out from his breast pocket. His wide, narrow, precisely curled and waxed mustache was so black it looked blue in the light; and beneath the rim of his matching bowler hat, his sideburns were likewise dark. Except for the orange triangle, every visible article of his clothing was also funereal in design and color.
But his voice was cultured and polite, and he conducted himself in a gentlemanly fashion, so Maria opted to assume the best and proceed accordingly.
She said, “I’ve just arrived from Chicago and I understand I must now make my way to St. Louis. Your name was presented as a contact, and I hope this means that you can help me arrange a coach or a carriage, or possibly a train.”
“Yes and no-which is to say, I won’t give you anything horse-powered or rail-running, but I can definitely see
