Keeping Secrets

by Joan Lowery Nixon

  "I'll catch up with her," Peg said and was through the door before Ma could answer.

  She looked to the right and the left, but Miss Hennessey wasn't in sight. The woods, Peg thought, remembering Miss Hennessey's interest, and she hurried in that direction, taking a famiUar shortcut through some unfenced property.

  Although there was still no sign of Miss Hennessey, Peg entered the woods, shivering a little in the damp shade. The smell of decaying leaves underfoot tingled her nose, and she stopped to take a deep breath. The woods were silent, with not even the rustle of small animals or chirps of birds. Had she got here before Miss Hennessey?

  From the comer of her eye Peg saw a sudden movement farther inside the thick grove of trees, and she ran toward it, the soft spongy floor of mulch swallowing the sound of her footsteps.

  "Miss Hennessey?" she called, but stopped short as a man stepped from behind a tree and glared at her. He was beardless, with long, dark hair that curled to his shoulders; and he wore a butternut-colored shirt that looked much Uke a Western plainsman's coat. His right hand moved toward the pistol that was thrust into his belt and rested on the poUshed butt.

  The man's shirt frightened Peg more than his revolver. Although many westerners wore this type of shirt, it was well known that Quantrill's guerrillas had adopted the design as a kind of special uniform that set them apart.

  "But they're Confederates," Peg had said to John Murphy, who had shown her the drawing in the newspaper. "Why don't they wear the Confederate Army uniform?"

  "They may call themselves a unit of the Confeder-

  ate Army," he'd answered, "but they're nothing more than a bunch of lawless brigands. They'd never have been able to gain the power they hold if it weren't that so many of them are Missouri boys, protected and hidden out, when need be, by their families and friends."

  The guerrilla spoke, breaking into Peg's thoughts. "What are you doing here?"

  Peg was so frightened it was hard for her to speak. "I—I was Hooking for Miss Hennessey."

  His gaze shot nervously to the left and the right. "Who's Miss Hennessey?"

  Peg's stomach clutched as she realized she had told this man the name of her friend. She had to leave this place. She had to warn Miss Hennessey away.

  "I'm going home," Peg said and took a step backward.

  He shook his head and slid the pistol from his belt. "You're not going anywhere."

  Off to one side Miss Hennessey suddenly stepped into view. "Put your gun away, sir. She's only a child," she said.

  "Else . . . ," the man began, his eyes widening in surprise.

  " 'Else what?" Miss Hennessey interrupted. "Don't threaten us, sir. We mean you no harm."

  The man looked confused, but he did as Miss Hennessey had told him. He sucked in his stomach and slid his pistol under his leather belt.

  "You're traveling, and you're hungry," she said. Her gaze was sharp as she stared at him. "You need food. Is that right?"

  "Yes," he growled. He paused a moment, then scowled at Peg. "One of you will have to go for food. The other will stay with me."

  "No!" Peg blurted out.

  "It's all right, Peg." Miss Hennessey rested a hand on Peg's trembling arm. "He wants to make sure you'll return with the food and without informing any authorities."

  "Me?"

  "Yes. Get some food from home without attracting attention. Bring some bread and cheese. Your mother has some fall apples at hand."

  Peg balked. "Come with me. I don't want to leave you here alone with him. He has a gim."

  "He won't harm me. Go, please. Now."

  Peg turned and ran through the edge of the woods, but she stopped, once outside the cluster of trees. Below the cliff the mud-colored Missouri river ran swiftly, eddying aroimd the small craft that navigated against the flow. Pressing a hand against her chest, as if she could stop the frantic pounding of her heart, Peg tried to calm down and think.

  The man was one of Quantrill's raiders. Peg was sure of it. Miss Hennessey had been very brave in sending Peg away and staying behind as a hostage, but it was obvious she didn't know this was one of Quantrill's men or she might have been frightened into one of her faints.

  As Peg thought about the terrible deaths these bushwhackers caused—deaths of loyal Union men— her face flushed with a hot anger. The raider who was keeping Miss Hennessey hostage didn't deserve the food he demanded. He deserved only to be stopped and arrested. But it would take too long to go for help.

  Peg knew these woods. She came here often with May to play hide-and-seek, then flop on the grass to watch the bustle of activity on the river landing below. If she cut around to the east and came up behind the raider ... So frightened that her hands shook, Peg

  picked up a fist-sized rock and silently entered again the grove of trees. Could she stop him? Would she be able to?

  "I have to," Peg whispered aloud.

  She quietly slipped through the woods, sidling from tree to tree, until in the distance she could see the Reb, whose back was to her. He was tall, and his shoulders were broad, so at first she couldn't spot Miss Hennessey. More frightened than ever, Peg dropped to a crouch and worked her way behind some bushes to one side.

  She gasped when she was finally able to get a good look at Miss Hennessey. She and the raider were standing close together, intently involved in a conversation Peg was too far away to hear.

  Miss Hennessey laid a hand on the raider's arm, her fingers stroking his sleeve, and smiled up into his eyes. He bent toward her, but her hands slid to his shoulders, holding him off. "Go," she said, so pladnly that Peg could read her lips. "Hurry."

  The raider took a few steps, then turned and called back, "I should have word soon."

  "I'll be ready," Miss Hennessey said.

  Peg slid back behind the trunk of the nearest tree, afraid to breathe until the man had plenty of time to leave the area. But as she waited, her fear turned to anger. Miss Hennessey said she had run from Quan-trill's raiders, yet here she was on very friendly terms with one of them.

  She deceived me! Peg fumed. She had planned to meet him here. Sending me for food was only a ruse to get me out of the way! Peg slammed the stone to the ground and ran heedlessly into the woods where Miss Hennessey still stood—waiting for Peg to return with the food, no doubt.

  "Everything's all right, Peg dear," Miss Hennessey called as soon as she spotted Peg. "He's gone." She looked from Peg's empty hands to her scowling face. "You didn't bring food," she murmured.

  "No, I didn't. That man was one of Quantrill's raiders. I recognized the shirt." Accusingly, Peg added, "I couldn't leave you alone with him so I picked up a rock and cut through the woods from a different direction."

  Miss Hennessey interrupted by hugging Peg so tightly it was hard enough to breathe, let alone talk. "You darling girl!" she cried. "You tried to save my life!"

  Peg, still angry, struggled to free herself. "I didn't need to, did I? I saw the way you looked at him."

  Miss Hennessey, a woebegone expression on her face, dropped her arms. "Now you realize why I have been reluctant to speak about my family, and why I was in Lawrence. James is my cousin. Until recently, he and his family lived near the Missouri-Kansas border in Independence. But poor James's father and uncle were tragically murdered, their home burned, and their property stolen by a Union patrol, simply because they refused to take sides against their neighbors and friends. James escaped and ran to join the bushwhackers, giving his allegiance to the Confederates. I came to find him, to beg him to reconsider, to remember our family's loyalty to the Union."

  A tear rolled down her cheek, and she gave a little sob. "But my pleading did no good. James wouldn't listen."

  Shocked at the story and embarrassed by her previous anger. Peg stammered, "Y-you planned to meet him here. How? When?"

  Miss Hennessey pulled a cotton handkerchief from

  her sleeve and pressed it against her eyes. "James sent word to me that Lawrence would be sacked. He told me to make my w
ay to St. Joseph where he'd get in touch with me."

  "How did he find you?"

  "That doesn't matter."

  "I heard him tell you that he'd soon have word, and you said you'd be ready. What did you mean?"

  "This is a family matter, Peg. I can't explain everything to you. It's been difficult enough to tell you about James's defection to the Confederates."

  "I'm just trying to understand," Peg said. "You told us that you were afraid of Quantrill's raiders."

  "Oh, I am!" Miss Hennessey cried. "I am firmly convinced that Quantrill is mad, and his madness is infecting his men. I can see heartbreaking changes in my cousin. James was once a gentle, caring man, but alas ..." She shuddered. "You can see how desperately I needed to meet with him, to try to get him to change his ways before he leaves with Quantrill and will be too far away for me to try to influence him. You do understand now, don't you, Peg?"

  Peg thought a moment. If she had a relative who had become a bushwhacker, wouldn't she try to change him? If it were Mike? Or Daimy? She'd tell only half-truths without thinking about it twice if she thought she could rescue them. Miss Hennessey hadn't exactly lied. All that she'd done was try to save her cousin. "I understand," Peg said.

  Miss Hennessey hugged Peg again, this time gently. "Thank you," she whispered. As they drew apart she added, "I'm not asking you to keep things from your mother. Peg. I'm just asking you not to upset her."

  Until Miss Hennessey had brought up the idea. Peg hadn't even thought of upsetting Ma. Once Ma heard

  the story, though—especially if Peg included picking up a rock and going back to defend Miss Hennessey against a man with a gun—she was bound to become upset.

  "I would like to tell her in my own way," Miss Hennessey said.

  Peg quickly nodded agreement. Miss Hennessey's version wasn't likely to include the episode with the rock.

  Quietly they walked home. Peg scurried upstairs, leaving Ma and Miss Hennessey to talk over hot cups of tea. Twice she tiptoed to the head of the stairs and tried to listen to their conversation. There was a low murmur of voices, neither of them upset or angry, and a sniffle or two from Miss Hennessey, so Peg began to relax.

  During the next two days Miss Hennessey was even more attentive to Peg. From one of her carpetbags she produced a copy of Charles Dickens's A Tale of Two Cities and read aloud with such expression that Ma— every bit as entranced as Peg—lost track of the time and forgot to remind Peg to go to bed.

  Soon, both Ma and Miss Hennessey received letters. Ma tore hers open eagerly and joyfully read aloud that Frances had arrived at the Cummingses' home safely and that Petey had erjoyed his treats and begged her to take him next time she came to St. Joe. But Miss Hennessey clutched her letter and edged out of the kitchen, hurrying to her room to read it in private.

  It was almost an hour later when she came downstairs. The kitchen was steamy with a soup bone and vegetables on the boil, and Peg brushed back the tendrils of damp hair that curled around her face.

  Smiling shyly. Miss Hennessey said, "Noreen, dear,

  it's time for me to take lodgings elsewhere. It would be imfair to continue to take advantage of your kind hospitality."

  Although Miss Hennessey's shoulders hunched under the gray shawl she'd wrapped tightly around them, Peg saw a spark in her eyes and heard what seemed to be suppressed excitement in her voice. Peg gulped down the lump of disappointment that rose in her throat. She liked Miss Hennessey to be there and hated to see her leave.

  Ma's eyes widened in surprise. "Where will you go, Violet?"

  "I'll remain in St. Joseph for a short time," she said. "Eventually I'll attempt to travel to my home, but until I have completely recuperated from my dreadful experience in Lawrence, I'll take accommodations at a Mrs. Naomi Kling's boardinghouse."

  Ma put down the stirring spoon she was holding. "I know Mrs. Kling. She's a respectable widow, and I have nothing but good to say about her boarding-house. I've even heard that, in spite of shortages, she sets the best table in St. Joseph. But her lodgings are expensive."

  Smiling at Ma, Miss Hennessey said, "I've imposed upon your kind hospitality long enough, Noreen. You, John, and Peg have been a second family to me. I can't thank you enough for your many kindnesses."

  "We've been glad to help," Ma answered.

  "You did help me—even more than you know. I realize now, after these days of peaceful shelter in your home, that my early fears were irrational. I'm no longer afraid."

  "Good." Ma smiled broadly and wiped her hands on her apron. "Just remember that at any time in the fu-

  ture, if you need our help, you have only to ask and it will be given."

  "Thank you," Miss Hennessey said demurely. A hand crept out from under her shawl, and she gave Peg an envelope. "Peg, dear, I understand there is a stable on Penn Street. Will you please be so kind as to deliver this to the stable owner for me? My letter gives the necessary instructions. A driver will be sent to take me to Mrs. Kling's."

  "So soon?" Ma asked.

  "I've imposed enough," Miss Hennessey said. She hugged Ma and Peg, murmuring, "Hurry, now," to Peg and dashed back upstairs.

  "She's been welcome here. Ma," Peg said in bewilderment. "She said we were like family. So why does she want to stay with a stranger?"

  "It's her decision, not ours, love," Ma answered.

  But Peg was puzzled. Into her mind popped the face of Miss Hennessey's cousin. But he was leaving . . . for a place far away. Miss Hennessey had Sciid. Surely her decision to leave the Murphy home had nothing to do with him.

  Peg ran down the hill and over a few blocks to Penn Street, which was one of the busiest streets in St. Joseph. In spite of the war and the occasional abandoned and boarded-up stores, the street was crowded with horse-drawn buggies and wagons and carts pulled by oxen. There were horseback riders aplenty, winding their way past men dressed in buckskin and women carrying market baskets. The air was filled with the pungent smell of horse droppings and sweat-stained leather. Peg wrinkled her nose and wove through the conglomeration, dodging and ducking, until she reached the stables and handed Miss Hennessey's letter to the man in charge.

  "Tell the lady I'll be by for her at four o'clock," he said.

  Peg's mission accomplished, she stopped as she

  reached the hotel, remembering again her visit here with the Swensons and Danny. Oh, how she missed her brother Danny!

  Because they'd been close in age. Peg had always had a special love for Danny. It had been terribly hard when she'd gone to live with Ma, and Danny had chosen to stay with Alfrid Swenson.

  "Alfrid's gentle and kind, like Da was," Danny had attempted to explain. "He's my father now. Peg, and I love him. I need him, and he needs me, too. I can't leave him. Do you understand?"

  Peg tried to understand, but there were many times when she missed Danny so much she could hardly bear the loneliness. Although Danny periodically came to town with Alfrid Swenson and Ennie, the woman Alfrid had married after Olga died, his time with Ma and Peg was always brief. Remembering how she'd clung to Danny in this hotel, yet how she'd insisted he not be allowed to eat more than his share of the cookies that were served, tears rushed to Peg's eyes.

  Soon after the onset of the war the hotel had been turned into Union Army headquarters. Here were the offices of Colonel John Williams, commander of the St. Joseph Military District; and General John Bassett, the provost marshal, whose job it was to find and arrest spies and Rebs. Uncomfortably, Peg thought about Miss Hennessey's cousin James. In a way, like it or not. Peg had helped him to escape. Luckily the provost marshal would never find out about it. Peg would hate to be sent to prison.

  Eager to take another look at the elegant lobby with its beautiful red Brussels carpets and carved, winding staircase. Peg clattered across the wooden sidewalk and held out a hand to grasp the handle of the heavy door.

  "Stop!" a voice ordered.

  Peg froze, her hand dropping to her side. She looked up at the Union soldier wh
o had appeared out of nowhere to block the door.

  "You have no business here, little girl," he said. "Get along home."

  "I just wanted to see the lobby of the hotel," Peg told him. "It used to be beautiful."

  "I don't know what it used to look like," the soldier answered, "but it sure ain't beautiful anymore."

  Peg didn't answer. Tears blurring her vision, she turned and fled.

  When the buggy arrived Peg was caught in a whirl of profuse thanks and hugs. Miss Hennessey leaned forward to give one last wave, then was gone.

  "She didn't say she'd see us again," Peg complained. "She didn't ask us to come to Mrs. Kling's boardinghouse to visit her." A hurt tear slid down her nose, and she angrily brushed it away.

  Ma put an arm around Peg's shoulders and steered her to the parlor sofa. As they sat close together Ma said, "Miss Hennessey needed us for only a short time, love. She doesn't need us now."

  "It's not a matter of needing us. I thought she was my—our friend."

  "Only a few friendships last forever. You'll find, as you grow older, that most friendships come and go."

  Peg squirmed away from her mother's arm. "There you go again. Ma, talking as if I'm a child."

  "You'll have to admit that you don't know all there is to know at the age of eleven." Ma gave Peg a teasing smile, and, in spite of her irritation, Peg couldn't keep from smiling back.

  As she settled against her mother's arm. Peg

  thought about Miss Hennessey, who at first had been nervous and frail and frightened of her own shadow. During the week, as Miss Hennessey's health improved, she had seemed at times, in quick unguarded moments, to be as self-assured as Ma or Miss Thomas, which was totally at odds with her usual quiet, timid nature. Peg remembered that instant on the stairs in which Miss Hennessey had appeared to be a vibrant, handsome woman, and she thought of the resonant beauty of her voice as she read aloud A Tale of Two Cities. Surely, Peg wondered, she hadn't imagined all that. Or had she?