To Love a Spy

by Aileen Fish

  Since then, she had continued the long journey to Salem, and on several occasions further south to the Mississippi River to collect escapees. To date, she had not had occasion to cross into Missouri as George had, and for that, she was grateful.

  Several days later, Anna arrived in Salem near dusk without mishap. She navigated her wagon around back to the barnyard of the Napiers’ home, a Quaker family who had been acting as stationmasters for longer than Anna had been alive.

  Mr. Napier, a tall, slender man dressed in subdued black, ventured outside to help her down. He was well used to Anna’s male attire but still looked slightly pained when he saw her.

  She smiled tiredly.

  “Good evening, Mr. Napier.”

  “Good evening, Anna. I hope your journey was pleasant.”

  Anna followed him into the barn, where he set about unhitching the horses. She pulled her carpetbag from the back of the wagon.

  “It was, thank you.”

  “And what do you hear from Mr. Damon?”

  Anna had found out when she first began the route that Mr. Napier knew George well, having worked with him on the railroad.

  “I had a letter from him last month,” Anna said. “He sounds well, although I am afraid he would not say if he was not. I do not know where he is though.”

  Mr. Napier, having fed and watered the horses, turned to her with a sympathetic face.

  “Wherever he is, my dear, he is doing good—I am certain of it.”

  Anna nodded. “Yes, I know.”

  “Come inside. Mrs. Napier and the girls will want to see you.”

  Anna followed him into the large two-story brick and wooden house. Mr. Napier, although a Quaker, lived a comfortable life as a druggist with his own store.

  Mrs. Napier greeted Anna with a warm hug. A plump woman, she dressed plainly in brown cotton, as did her three daughters, ages twelve to sixteen. Anna welcomed the woman’s soft matronly embrace.

  “My dear, you look exhausted. Come in. Come in.” Mrs. Napier led the way into the kitchen, a large homey room that smelled of delicious cooking. She pressed Anna into a chair at a large oak dining table.

  “Girls, a cup of tea for Miss Douglas, please.”

  Sally, the eldest, tall and slender like her father, moved to the stove to pour tea. She set it in front of Anna and sat down at the table alongside her sisters to gaze at their guest. Mr. Napier took a cup of tea and settled himself down as well.

  “Are they here yet?” Anna asked as she refreshed herself with the hot tea.

  Mr. Napier shook his head. “No, not yet. I am uncertain how to proceed. The conductor who has been bringing them up from Missouri has not arrived yet, and I have received no response to my last few messages from him. I would have contacted you to let you know, but I assumed you had already left Jones County.”

  Anna sighed heavily. This was not the first time this conductor had been delayed, but he had always managed to send a message notifying Mr. Napier of his projected arrival. Anything could have gone wrong crossing the border with escaped slaves.

  “I hope nothing untoward has occurred and that he has not been arrested,” she said.

  Mr. Napier echoed her sigh. “I cannot say. I must admit that I am concerned by the silence.”

  “Well, there is nothing we can do about it tonight,” Mrs. Napier said. “Let us eat and see what is to be done in the morning. It is a shame that you had to come all this way, Anna, but perhaps there are other bundles that may need to be delivered north.”

  Anna enjoyed a delicious meal with the Napiers before retiring upstairs to the guest room. She bathed and fell into bed almost immediately.

  Sleeping lightly as she always did on her trips, she heard the knocking downstairs almost as soon as the family did. Perhaps the conductor had arrived! She opened her door and ran down the stairs to join the Napiers, all dressed in nightgowns, at the kitchen door. Mr. Napier opened the door and peered out. Anna tried to see over his shoulder, but Mrs. Napier, by her height and bulk, won that privilege.

  “Mr. Damon!” Mr. Napier exclaimed.

  Anna’s heart thudded once loudly before beginning a fast-paced thumping in her chest.

  “Mr. Napier, I am so very sorry to awaken you at this hour. I hoped you would allow me to rest in your spare room.”

  “George?” she whispered.

  The Napiers parted, and George stepped in through the back door. Dressed in dusty, light-colored clothing with a brown jacket that matched the color of his beard, he looked tired. But beyond his fatigue, his face expressed stunned surprise as he saw Anna.

  “Anna!” he cried out. Anna rushed into him, and he folded his arms tightly around her.

  “Girls, back to bed,” Mrs. Napier said briskly. She ushered the children out of the room and up the stairs before returning. A shawl covered her shoulders, and she held one out to Anna.

  “What on earth are you doing here, my love?” George asked as he released Anna to gaze into her face.

  Mrs. Napier coughed, and George turned to look at her. She rolled her eyes in Anna’s undressed condition, and George smiled and nodded. He took the shawl and wrapped it around Anna’s shoulders.

  “Mrs. Napier is correct, Anna. It is most improper of me to embrace you in your current state of dress.”

  “Come, let us sit down and have some tea.” Mrs. Napier lit a fire in the stove and set a kettle of tea on to boil while Anna let go of George’s hand with reluctance and took a seat across from him at the table.

  “Why are you here? Have you come home? Is the war over?” she asked breathlessly. She studied his face with hope. The beard made him a stranger, but his blue eyes were lovingly familiar.

  George shook his head. “No, the war is not yet over. I missed you so dearly that I sought permission from my superiors to return to Jones County for a few days to see you. And here you are! Far from Jones County though.”

  Mr. Napier cleared his throat. “We are so pleased to see you, Mr. Damon. Yes, of course you must stay with us. Although Anna has the spare room, I am certain you can sleep comfortably on the sofa.”

  George dragged his eyes from Anna’s face to look at Mr. Napier.

  “Yes, thank you. I would be most grateful.”

  “My dear, I think we must leave the young people to talk,” Mrs. Napier said. “Mr. Damon, there is food in the larder, if you wish to eat something cold. I will set out some blankets on the sofa.

  “Anna, you can pour the tea when it is ready,” Mrs. Napier continued as she set several cups down in front of them.

  “Goodnight then,” Mr. Napier said.

  George rose abruptly, as if he had not noticed they were leaving.

  “Goodnight, and thank you!”

  When they had left, George crossed around the table and pulled Anna into his arms. His kiss was ardent, warm, and all that she had remembered, with the exception of the soft beard against her face. She buried herself in his embrace. When he released her, he seemed short of breath, as she was herself. He set her gently in her chair and moved to the stove, where the teakettle shrilled its readiness.

  “Where did you come from, George?” Anna asked, still in a dreamy state.

  “South from Missouri. That is all I can say.” He poured tea and set cups down on the table, seating himself in the chair next to Anna. He took her hand in his.

  “And why are you here, in Salem, at the Napiers’?” he asked.

  Anna dropped her eyes to his hands.

  “I think you must know why I am here.”

  “I cannot. Is your father with you? Is he about some business on the Underground Railroad? I have been gone so long I do not even know the state of the railroad.”

  “It thrives,” she said, “and there is more support for it than ever. I do not fear the slave catchers as I once did in the central part of the state, but there is always danger here so close to the border that slave owners will send men and hunting dogs after the slaves.”

  “Danger?” George a
sked. “Anna, please do not tell me that you have been forwarding slaves. Please do not tell me that.”

  Anna pressed her lips together. She had known George would someday discover she had done what he asked she not do, but she hoped the war would be over and the institution of slavery banned when that time came.

  She looked into his eyes and nodded.

  “Yes, I have...for two years now.”

  George dropped her hand and stared at her, his brows narrowing in anger. He rose from his seat and began to pace the room, stopping only to ask her questions.

  “Since the moment I left?”

  “No, I made my first journey to Iowa City about a month after you left, after I convinced my father to let me go.”

  “How many journeys have you made?”

  Anna shrugged. “I no longer count. Perhaps ten?”

  “Ten?” he repeated in a choked voice. “Why are you here in Salem?”

  “The conductor who delivered the bundles from Salem to Iowa City fell ill and passed away unexpectedly some time ago.”

  “And no replacement could be found? You travel all the way to Salem now?”

  She shook her head. “No. So many men have gone to war, and no one else came forth to help. Yes, I travel to Salem now.”

  “Have you crossed the border? Please tell me you have not entered Missouri.”

  She shook her head. “No, thankfully, I have not had to cross the border yet.”

  “Yet?” George almost barked. “There will be no yet! It is still illegal to aid and abet fugitive slaves in Missouri.”

  “George, I love you, but please do not bark orders at me,” Anna said with a warning look. “You know that I will always do what I think is best.”

  George halted in his pacing and reclaimed his seat beside her. He took her hand in his and placed it against his lips.

  “I could not bear it if you were injured or arrested, my love,” he said in a hoarse voice. “All of this time, I have been thinking of you safely ensconced in your home with your father and Mrs. Brickman or working at the store with your father. I never imagined you would be driving a wagon hundreds of miles with fugitive slaves in tow.”

  “I know, George, and I am sorry I deceived you. I truly am. I knew you would disapprove and fret, and I did not want to distract you from your own safety. I worry about you too.”

  He nodded, cupping her hand and resting it against his chest.

  “Yes, I know you must worry. I cannot say that it is without danger. That would be untrue, but I have not been caught yet.” A glint of a smile lit up his eyes, and Anna responded with a curve of her lips. She leaned in to kiss his bristled cheek, and he turned his face to hers. Moments passed before they found time to speak again. George wrapped his arm around Anna’s shoulders, and she laid her head against his chest.

  “When will the war end, George? Have you heard anything?”

  He shook his head. “No. We have no idea. The Confederacy continues to fight back, though General Grant has reached Mississippi. I do not know what it will take for President Davis to surrender.”

  “So many deaths,” Anna murmured. “I have heard the number is in the hundreds of thousands. Such horror is inconceivable.”

  “Let us not think of that now. Let us think only of each other. We have been apart for far too long. I cannot find the words to describe how much I miss you.”

  Anna lifted her face and buried it in his neck. He kissed the top of her head, and she wondered how it was possible that the world seemed so cruel and senseless when such love was to be had.

  “I love you, George, and I cannot wait until you come home and we are married.”

  George was silent, and Anna looked up. Had she been too forward?

  He gazed at her, his eyes a brilliant blue.

  “Mr. Napier is a minister,” he said simply.

  Anna drew in a sharp breath, unable to release it. Her heart pounded. Did George mean...

  He nodded.

  “Marry me now, Anna. I know it is not right, that your father would wish to give you away, that Mrs. Brickman should be there, but I do not want to wait. Please marry me now.”

  Anna wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her. She kissed him with all the strength in her body.

  “Yes,” she said breathlessly when she pulled away. “Oh, yes! Today!”

  Chapter 11

  Mr. Napier married George and Anna at one o’clock in the afternoon of a fine spring day. The only witnesses were Mrs. Napier and the girls. George had bathed and borrowed a suit from Mr. Napier. Anna shook out the one dress she brought with her, a dark-blue muslin dress, and Mrs. Napier decorated the collar with lace and lent her a crinoline.

  They conducted the ceremony outside under the bright-blue skies of southeastern Iowa, where for the moment, war seemed far away. George slipped a masculine signet ring on Anna’s finger, promising that he would purchase a proper woman’s wedding band for her in the future.

  To say that Mr. Napier had been surprised at their request upon his entry into the kitchen at five o’clock that morning would be an exaggeration. He and Mrs. Napier had discussed the matter upon retiring, wondering if the young couple, who had eyes only for each other, wished to pledge themselves in marriage sooner rather than later...or not at all, given the vagaries at war.

  No one was in any doubt as to the danger George Damon faced when he passed through enemy lines to spy. Mrs. Napier had noted it would be a shame if Mr. Damon and Miss Douglas could not enjoy the bliss of the marital state such as she and Mr. Napier had known, if only for a short while until he returned to the South.

  Mrs. Napier had prepared a celebratory late luncheon and a simple wedding cake. They made a merry party, and the wedding was all that George could have hoped for, though, in the absence of Anna’s loved ones and his own family.

  That night, George did not sleep on the couch, but he held his wife in his arms, and as she slept, he wondered how he could now force himself to leave her and return to the war.

  He was due to return to Missouri in two days. Skirmishes between guerillas loyal to both the Union and the Confederacy had long been a frequent occurrence, and he had acquired information that General Marmaduke might be preparing for another Confederate incursion into Missouri.

  At breakfast the following morning, talk turned to the missing conductor.

  “Will you return north with an empty wagon, Anna,” Mr. Napier asked, “or do you wish me to see if there are any bundles here in Salem available for delivery? You must know that there are several other stations in the area.”

  George drew in a sharp breath, and Anna turned to look at him with a question in her eyes. He steeled himself to speak his thoughts.

  “It is not what I would wish for Anna, Mr. Napier—for my wife—as you can imagine, but she is a forceful woman who makes her own decisions. If there are freedom seekers in hiding here in Salem, then I assume she would want to take them north. Is that true, Anna?”

  Anna nodded. “Yes, I cannot imagine wasting a trip down here, although the trip has not in and of itself been a waste.” She smiled broadly and took his hand in her own. “I have, after all, gained a husband.”

  Smiles were repeated all around the table.

  “I shall make inquiries then,” Mr. Napier said. “I thought I heard that Mr. Samuels had several young men staying with him.”

  “Men?” George asked hoarsely. He shook his head and tightened his hold on Anna’s hand. “Surely you have not been transporting men!”

  Anna patted his hand.

  “Well, of course I have, George. I cannot pick and choose which bundles to deliver, and the majority of the escaped slaves are men. I have come to no harm as of yet.”

  George warred with himself. Should he take Anna back to Jones County, without or without passengers, or should he leave the following day to return to his duties? He could not bear to think of her transporting grown men who, by the very nature of their escape to freedom, were desperate, fr
ightened and willing to do almost anything to secure that freedom.

  “I have my rifle, George. I will use it if I need to. These poor men have been so terrorized and browbeaten that they present little threat to me.”

  “While I understand your concerns, Mr. Damon, Anna has indeed fared well for the past several years,” Mr. Napier offered.

  George gritted his teeth and acceded to the plan. He could not fail his superiors, and the information he sought to pass was vital.

  “Promise me that you will protect yourself, no matter what, Anna. Promise me!”

  Anna smiled and gripped his hand tighter.

  “I promise, husband,” she said, her cheeks turning rosy.

  George longed to pull her into his arms, but the coy smiles of Mr. and Mrs. Napier, and the wide-eyed gazes of the girls, stayed him.

  Following breakfast, Anna and George strolled hand in hand through the nearby meadows and fields.

  “What of your family, George? Have you seen them?”

  He shook his head. “No. I did have business in the west and passed by the house one time, but I did not stop. It is likely that my brothers would have exposed me, supposing they are not away fighting on the Confederate front.”

  “I am so sorry to hear it,” she said. “I hope that when the war has ended and slavery has been abolished—for I hope it will be—that you and your family can reconcile.”

  “And I as well,” he said. “Will you write to your father to let him know the news of our marriage, or will you wait until you return?”

  “I will probably reach Jones County before a letter does, so I might as well wait. He will understand our haste, although after two years of engagement, this hardly seems hasty.”

  “No,” George murmured. “I have longed to call myself your husband for two years.”