To Love a Spy

by Aileen Fish

  “Yes, Father. George is my husband.”

  Her father wrapped her in a great embrace that almost lifted her off the floor.

  “What a wonderful surprise!” he exclaimed. “I know Mrs. Brickman will be saddened that she could not make a wedding dress for you, but what a happy occasion!”

  “Oh, Father, I am so happy that you are not angry we could not include you. I do not know when I will see George again, and after two years of separation, we did not want to wait longer to become husband and wife.”

  “No, dear, of course not. How could I blame you? Marriage is a wondrous, happy time. Congratulations! Where is George now?”

  “He had to return to his duties,” Anna said, her smile fading. “I think he went to Missouri, but he cannot tell me where he goes.”

  “Oh, my dear,” he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “Still, you are Mrs. George Damon now. I am very happy for you. Hopefully, this war will end soon, and George will come home.”

  Anna nodded. They turned to walk toward the house.

  “Anna!” her father exclaimed. “You do not intend to move to George’s farm while he is gone, do you? Please say you will stay here at home until he returns.”

  “I had not thought of it, Father. No, I do not think so. I think I would like to stay here with you and Mrs. Brickman. Which reminds me, when do you and Mrs. Brickman plan to marry?”

  “As soon as you returned,” he said, his cheeks growing red. “We will have a simple ceremony at the house. Pastor Hall will preside.”

  “Well, I am returned,” Anna said happily. “Let us send Sam and Joe on their way, and have a wedding!”

  The following day, Mr. Hanshaw collected Sam and Joe and took them to Dubuque. Anna helped Mrs. Brickman sew her wedding dress, a simple costume of pale lilac satin. Mrs. Brickman, who had been widowed when she was only twenty, declined to wear white, and Anna thought the lilac coloring suited her ash-brown hair very well.

  Pastor Hall agreed to perform the ceremony the following day at the Douglas house. Though Mrs. Brickman had asked for a very simple, small ceremony, Mr. Douglas had invited a few acquaintances from town, telling Mrs. Brickman that he did not wish to be seen as ashamed to marry. Mrs. Brickman acquiesced, and on the day of the marriage, twenty-four people filled the house such that they moved the ceremony out to the garden.

  As her father and Mrs. Brickman exchanged vows, Anna held the bouquet she had created from the spring flowers in the garden. Her heart ached with missing George at her side, but she smiled throughout. Two weddings in one week was an extraordinary event, and she sat down that night to write George a letter. She addressed it as she always did, to an Iowa unit, and somehow it always managed to get to George.

  The days passed, and life settled down to normal once again. Although she had urged her father and stepmother to take a honeymoon, both declined given the uncertainty of the war, stating they would consider such when the country was whole and safe once more.

  Anna filled her days with working at the store and writing letters to George. She awaited notification of another bundle in Salem, but no word came. The war raged on, and she read the news from her father’s paper eagerly, looking for hints regarding George’s possible whereabouts.

  A month passed, then another, and she heard no word from George. While it was not unusual for a month to pass without a letter given the vagaries of the postal system during the unsettled times, two months seemed long. She began to worry—more than she already did.

  When three months passed without a letter from George, Anna determined to find out why. She could not contain her fear. Bouts of sickness in the morning hinted that she was with child, and Mrs. Brickman had confirmed her suspicions. What should have been the second most happy occasion of her life, second only to her marriage, was marred by her fears for George’s safety.

  “I have to discover if something has happened to George,” she said one morning at breakfast. Unable to eat more than a slice of toast, she sipped tea.

  “How do you propose to do that, my dear? Who could you contact?”

  “I have addressed his letters to the quartermaster at the Ninth Regiment Iowa Volunteer Infantry. I need only to contact them and hear their response.”

  Anna drafted a letter to the commander at the above address, and she waited several weeks for a reply, but none was forthcoming. Her apprehension grew daily, as did their child. She dared no longer travel to Salem to pick up escaped slaves and finally consented to allowing a young Quaker man, newly arrived to Salem from Pennsylvania, to take over the route.

  Her father returned home one day in June.

  “The Ninth Regiment is engaged in a great battle against the Confederacy in Vicksburg, Mississippi, with the Army of the Tennessee. It seems likely that the Federal army has taken control of the Mississippi River, but I am afraid you will hear nothing from the unit at this time as to George’s whereabouts.”

  Anna’s hands turned cold.

  “Then I will go there! I will go to Mississippi and find out where George is.”

  “Nonsense,” her father said. “You are with child. You cannot undertake such a journey in your condition. And certainly not into the South.”

  “It is early in the pregnancy, Father, and my illness is all but gone. I have to find George,” she said.

  Her stepmother shook her head.

  “No, my dear, you cannot. George would not wish it, and he would not want you to endanger your child.”

  “I have to,” she said firmly. “If George is in trouble, I need to help him. If he is...” She would not say the words. “Then I need to know.”

  She argued with her father and stepmother for days, and she counted her pennies. She believed she had enough. Vicksburg was almost directly south of Anamosa, albeit hundreds of miles. She would take the train to Dubuque and seek the help of the stationmaster, Mr. Carter, to help her secure passage on some sort of riverboat down the Mississippi River to Vicksburg. If the Federal army now had control of the entire river, then she supposed she would be safe.

  When Anna finally gave up hope of ever swaying her parents, she packed her small carpetbag and left one night. As much as she loved her father and stepmother, George was her husband, her life, and she needed to find him.

  She caught the early train to Dubuque and walked from the station to Mr. Carter’s inn. Mr. and Mrs. Carter expressed their congratulations on her marriage at almost the same time as they voiced their objections over what they considered to be her foolhardy plan. Nevertheless, Mr. Carter believed Anna when she said she would book passage down the Mississippi River with or without his help. She dared not tell them she was with child.

  Mr. Carter pressed her to stay a day or two, but Anna suspected that he wished to send a message to her father. She declined and sent him off to the port with her money while she drank a cup of tea with Mrs. Carter.

  Mr. Carter returned within the hour, breathless, as if he had been running.

  “You are in luck! There is at this time a paddle steamer in port from Minnesota that leaves at noon for St. Louis and then on toward Vicksburg. The boat is now primarily used to transport military troops, but I convinced the captain to sell you passage with a small cabin. Here is a note from the captain himself, which will serve as your ticket.”

  Anna jumped up and grabbed her bag. She took the note Mr. Carter handed her.

  “Will you not reconsider, Anna?” Mr. Carter said.

  “No, I must go,” she said firmly. “Thank you for all you have done for me, Mr. Carter, Mrs. Carter. Good-bye.” Anna hurried from the house and down the street toward the center of town and the docks.

  She found the steamboat, a large sidewheeler that appeared to be in remarkably good condition given that it was now used in a utilitarian fashion to transport Federal troops. Lines of blue-coated men awaited boarding while others thronged the decks, some using the railings as benches. She slipped past the boarding soldiers and strode up the gangway, searching for someon
e in charge.

  Wooden boxes, sacks of grain, soldiers and several horses filled the main deck.

  A large, burly soldier stopped her. His blue uniform sported several thickly embroidered V-shaped stripes on his arms.

  “Are you lost, ma’am?”

  “No, I am boarding this boat on my way to Vicksburg.” She wondered what business it was of his. Where was the captain?

  The soldier’s thick, furry gray eyebrows shot up in an expression of surprise.

  “Vicksburg, ma’am? The city is under siege.”

  “Yes, I know,” she said with what she considered great patience. “However, I have a ticket.” She waved her piece of paper. When the soldier attempted to take it, she pulled it back.

  “But that is for me to give to the captain or a steward. I understand I am to be sharing this boat with many soldiers, but I am not sure that you have the authority to take my ticket.”

  The older man blinked his pale-blue eyes and grinned widely at her through a gray beard and mustache.

  “Yes, ma’am. Sergeant Olson, Third Regiment, Minnesota Volunteer Infantry, at your service. I believe Captain Clark is on the cabin deck.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant,” Anna said, softening her lips into a smile. Having fought her way to get this far, she had become far too prickly.

  “Let me show you the way,” the sergeant said.

  Anna followed him up a set of stairs to the cabin deck. More soldiers milled about on this deck, although by the epaulettes on their shoulders, most appeared to be officers.

  “Captain Clark, this lady states she has a ticket to Vicksburg,” Sergeant Olson said.

  Anna eyed the tall, dark-haired, bearded man who seemed younger than she would expect for a riverboat captain.

  He looked down at the paper she offered him.

  “Yes, Sergeant, I gave that to Mr. Carter for a Mrs. Anna Damon. Welcome to our humble ship, Mrs. Damon.”

  He smiled widely, and Anna relaxed. His dark hat, jacket and white shirt were crisp and clean. Although he appeared to wear a uniform, it was not the uniform of a Federal troop, and she assumed it was that of a riverboat captain.

  “Since we do not have a steward onboard, I shall escort you to your cabin myself, Mrs. Damon. Thank you, Sergeant Olson.”

  The captain led her past several staring officers and to a small cabin with a porthole window.

  “The military officers and I will dine at 6:00 p.m., Mrs. Damon. I am not sure if you would be comfortable dining with us or whether you would prefer to have something brought to your cabin.”

  “I think I will stay in my cabin, Captain Clark.” Anna could not imagine sitting down to supper with a gaggle of men.

  Captain Clark drew his brows together.

  “We have not transported civilians to the South in some time and certainly not a lady. May I ask why you are traveling to Vicksburg? Mr. Carter assured me you understood the city was under siege.”

  Anna nodded with a sigh.

  “Yes, I do know. My husband is missing. While he is not attached to the Ninth Iowa Infantry, that is where I addressed his mail. He had not responded to my letters in over three months, and that is very unusual for him. The commander of the Ninth Iowa Infantry has not responded to my requests for information either, so I am going to him, and I understand they are at Vicksburg.”

  Anna could see by Captain Clark’s expression that he was taken aback. She cared not.

  “Yes, they are. I transported them there myself,” he said. “How determined of you to travel to the battlefield to find your husband! I do hope you find him or information about him, and that the news is good.”

  “I do too,” Anna said with a sigh. She appreciated that he did not lecture her on the folly of her undertaking. The gentle movement of the boat, even docked, indicated the trip might prove to be arduous.

  “What is your husband’s name? Perhaps I know him?”

  Anna’s heart thumped. Was it possible?

  “Lieutenant George Damon,” she said hopefully.

  “No, I am afraid I have never heard of him,” Captain Clark exclaimed. “I am sorry. When we reach Vicksburg, I shall make it my mission to help you locate the Ninth Iowa Infantry. I will have very little time as I will no doubt have injured troops and supplies to carry north, but I will do my best.”

  “Thank you, Captain Clark. Thank you so much!”

  Captain Clark pulled a pocket watch from his jacket.

  “I will leave you now, Mrs. Damon. It is almost time to depart.”

  Anna closed the door behind him and surveyed her small cabin—wide enough only for a small bed, a nightstand, a chair and desk, and a bowl for washing. She dropped her bag on the floor and lay down on the bed, falling instantly asleep.

  A knock on the door some hours later awakened her, and she climbed out of the bed and opened the door. A rumbling noise told her the ship was underway.

  A young man wearing a white apron held a tray. She assumed him to be a helper to the ship’s cook, and she wondered if he was a freedman or one of the many escaped slaves who made it north. She looked over his shoulder toward the open door to see that twilight had fallen, and the ship moved downriver at a brisk pace. She could hear the paddles rhythmically cleaving the water.

  “Hello,” she said, standing back to allow him to bring the tray into the room.

  “Evening, missus,” he said. “Name’s Archie. I’ll be bringing your food.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Archie,” Anna said. “Thank you.”

  He turned to leave but hesitated at the door.

  “Need anything else, missus?”

  “No, thank you, Archie. This looks wonderful.” Although the ship was in motion, Anna found that her appetite was not impaired, and she was hungry.

  “Did you ever work for the railroad, missus?”

  Anna drew in a sharp breath and stared at Archie. How could he possibly know? Secrecy was paramount to the success of the railroad, and though she could no longer transport freedom seekers due to her condition, her father was still a stationmaster. If the Union lost the war, the railroad would continue, and the need for secrecy must perforce also continue.

  She pressed her lips together.

  “The railroad? No, I have never worked for a railroad, Archie.”

  “The Underground Railroad, missus. Not the kind with engines and boxcars.”

  Anna sighed.

  “I know what you mean, Archie. I am an abolitionist, that is all I can say. I wondered when I saw you if you were born free, or did you escape?”

  “I came north on the railroad four years ago, missus. Out of Missouri through Iowa. My sisters ran away ’bout two years ago and joined me in Washington, the capital. Cold up there.” He smiled briefly.

  “I imagine it is,” Anna said.

  “Sisters’ names are Sally and Suzy. Sally has a little ’un named Sara.”

  Anna’s heart pounded. So, they had made it to freedom, albeit to Washington and not Canada! And here was their brother telling her about it. The world was indeed a small place! She smiled brightly.

  “Sara,” she breathed. “A pretty name.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Archie said. “I’ll tell them you said so.”

  “You do that,” Anna said. “Congratulations on your freedom, Archie.”

  “Thank you, missus. Well, I’ll leave you to your dinner.”

  Archie shut the door quietly behind him, and Anna stared at the food on her plate unseeingly as she remembered the desperate journey to take Archie’s sisters to Dubuque and out of reach of the slave catchers. She remembered falling in love with George, and her heart ached to hear from him.

  Chapter 13

  Eight days later, the paddle steamer approached Vicksburg on the third of July. During the journey, Anna had come to know Captain Clark well and learned he was a bachelor from Minnesota.

  She had never confirmed Archie’s suspicions of her involvement with the railroad, but he seemed certain of her identity, an
d she did not attempt to dissuade him.

  Anna had ventured out of her cabin more often as the days passed, unable to stay cooped up in the small room. The officers on the second deck behaved with decorum, and she eventually took lunch and supper with them in the small dining room.

  No one had heard of Lieutenant George Damon, and she shook her head vaguely when they inquired about his posting. She hoped they assumed that she did not know, not that she was being obtuse.

  The steamer had stopped in St. Louis to discharge some troops and supplies and pick up more. The logistics of wartime made no sense to Anna, and she could do no more than watch.

  Ironclad ships patrolled the river, and Anna studied them with a mixture of horror and fascination. They appeared to be very formidable and warlike, with guns protruding from the hulls. She did not think she could abide being stuck inside such a formidable enclosed shell for long, and she pitied the sailors who were.

  There had been discussion at dinner about whether they might take fire from shore as they passed through Arkansas and northern Mississippi, but that did not come to pass, and Anna was grateful. She remained steadfast in her quest to hear word of George, but a faint swelling of her abdomen reminded her that she carried their child and had no right to endanger it.

  As they approached Vicksburg, Anna heard sporadic explosions, and one of the officers on deck confirmed the sounds as distant shelling, but nothing landed near the ship. They docked north of the city, well out of the way of harm, and began immediately offloading supplies, soldiers and animals.

  Anna grabbed her carpetbag and waited by her door. Captain Clark had reconfirmed that he intended to help her locate the commander of the Ninth Iowa Infantry when he was free to leave the ship.

  He arrived within an hour.

  “Vicksburg has fallen, and the Confederate general surrenders,” he said, elated. “Their soldiers are starving and ill. Control of the Mississippi is indeed ours!”

  Anna smiled and wished to share in his jubilation, but her entire attention was focused on discovering word of George.

  “Come,” Captain Clark said. “Let us find the commander. I know most of them, having transported all up and down this river at some point during the war.”