Enemy Women

by Paulette Jiles

  Adair said, I don’t care for them. What, dances? She laughed. Entertainments upon the stage? She lifted her fist to her closed mouth and coughed a small cough.

  Ladies’ clubs, he said. His eyes sparkled and he smiled at her. Charities and fawnings upon portrait painters.

  Is this what you do? she asked. No wonder you want out of this cussed place.

  No, he said. I’ve been to the theater but once. Major Neumann gave a small shrug. It was a lie, but a minor lie, for he wanted her to know that at heart the two of them were alike. He had been to the Holly Street theater many times.

  Adair sat down and rested her cheek on her fist. Leaned her elbow on the chair arm. Of course I want to get released. I have never seen the like of the women in this place.

  You must get out of here as soon as possible. The major cleared his throat. He troubled the glowing coals with the poker. I can’t change things here. The solution is to get you out of here. He closed the stove door and turned the handle. When you are released, and you will be, have you ever thought about the western territories? To change the subject. The major indicated his books. Far away from cities. He sat down again close to her.

  She said, I only heard about them. She got up and went over to take down one of his books. She ran the pages past her thumb. Is this where I can escape to, Major? She turned and smiled her brilliant smile. We had Holland’s Pictorial History of the World and it had California in it. We have had people start for California from our county and when they make up a band of wagons and start out, the morning they go they always sing “Awake Awake Ye Drowsy Sleepers.” She looked down at the book again. There was a page with hand-colored illustrations of Mandan Indians. Is this where I could escape to? You think I could keep my hair?

  He could hardly keep himself from touching her. His desire was great. It was overwhelming. He saw her riding at a slow walk beside some reflective body of water, and the whippoorwill repeating itself in a cascade of liquid notes. It would be in a remote valley in the western lands, and the war far away. And there would be a trim small house beside the body of water and Adair in front of the fire combing out that long hair. In a nightgown. He wanted so to touch her.

  He took her hand and said, Has the matron mistreated you?

  Adair paused with her mouth open.

  He said, Tell me.

  Yes, she did, and I don’t like to admit it. Adair slapped the book shut. If I were a free person I would have knocked both her eyes into one socket.

  What happened?

  I asked her when I could mail a letter and insisted on my rights. She said we ought to get along and offered her hand. And when I did she about broke it, and threw me across the floor.

  His mouth made a thin line and he got up and went back to his desk and wrote something in pencil, but in truth he was only writing down a small list of purchases to be made for himself, coffee, pen nibs, buttons, because he found himself possessed by a boiling fury and he needed to calm himself and so he wrote it all out again. Writing calmed him.

  Well, there, I have made a note of it.

  Major, you are such a stick, said Adair. Whatever happens you have to write up a report.

  Well, Miss Adair, sometimes it works. Do not turn up your pretty nose at reports. The provost marshal’s department runs on paper. It is an engine fueled with paper. He paused and pressed down his collar. Am I such a stick? He smiled at her again.

  No.

  He reached out and drew his hand across her crown of braids. You look very nice indeed.

  Thank you.

  The clock on his shelf of books ate time, second after second, and the whistle sounded at the white lead factory.

  It is time for you to go. He smiled. I’ll tell you what. He went again to his desk and took out a deck of cards. It is Christmastime. We are not allowed to give Christmas presents to the prisoners. But let’s you and I decide on who is to give who a gift. Leave it to chance. He fanned the deck and held it out. Take a card.

  What for? Adair put out her hand and then hesitated. Explain this to me again.

  Whoever draws the low card has to give the other one a Christmas gift.

  I don’t understand this, you are up to something. But she drew the ten of spades.

  He nodded, and then drew one himself. It was the trey of hearts.

  William Neumann smiled brightly. I owe you a Christmas gift, he said.

  She looked up into his eyes. You have engineered this, she said. You cheated.

  I did not. He picked up the cigar and drew on it. Now, I am afraid we must address this business of your confession, he said. This will not do, Miss Colley. Although I couldn’t stop reading it. He held up the paper covered with her handwriting. Try again.

  Adair looked again at her hands. She thought for a moment.

  Then that’s not a confession?

  No. He was not smiling and stood very still. I must ask you again.

  Against my own people?

  I want you out of this prison.

  What if I went insane? From time to time I feel that I’m not myself. Not the Adair Colley I used to know. At one time I was so sweet and gentle I couldn’t pull a turnip out of the garden without weeping over the poor, dear thing. She put her hands together as if in prayer. You want something about my brother.

  You must get out, he said. He reached out his hand and laid it in a light touch along her forearm. Women are dying here. He lifted his hand and touched her earlobe.

  She turned her head away from his hand. But his touch felt very good to her.

  Miss Adair. Write something.

  I just did.

  Information. Just some small thing.

  Well then, she said. I’ll keep on.

  He smoked his cigar in a long draw. Then bent the glowing end off in a coffee saucer and left it lying there. He got up and opened the door for her. It’s Christmas Eve, he said. I don’t imagine Mrs. Buckley has prepared anything special for her charges.

  Boiled rats, said Adair. With little red ribbons on their tails.

  He laughed.

  Miss Adair.

  Mr. William.

  And here is the Christmas gift I owe you. He handed her a box wrapped in red paper. Open it.

  Oh my goodness! She tugged the paper loose eagerly. He noticed how she handled it and slowly separated one bright, crisp fold from another, cherishing the texture and the color of the paper. Inside were taffies wrapped in more red paper, and a small book of poetry. Translations from the Italian. New mittens in indigo and red wool. She held the package to herself. You did cheat.

  I learned magic card tricks as a boy.

  Then Adair put her forefinger on one of his chest buttons and said, That’s favoritism. Now you have to go and give everybody taffy.

  Then it is favoritism. He bowed slightly as she went out the door. You are in my thoughts.

  DECEMBER PASSED INTO January and on January 9 she looked out her cell window to see Rhoda walking down the street in a confused, shambling way, carrying a carpetbag. Her head down. Adair did not know where she might be going in the confusion of the traffic but from what she had heard of her parlor talks with the lawyer it might well be to hell or a bordello.

  At the washing that day Adair ran her yard-long hair through her fists, mashing out soapsuds. She called over the steaming barrels to Kisia.

  What happened to Rhoda Lee?

  I don’t know, said Kisia. Aunt says I’m not supposed to know.

  Madame Rose had her wet corset in her hands and pretended to play it as if it were a concertina, opening and shutting it with all its pink silk and stays. Oh, she got herself in the family way with her lawyer, she sang. Love, O love O careless love.

  Is she gone home to her family?

  Not her. Not her. She’s gone a-follering and a-whining after him. Once I wore my apron high, now my apron strings won’t tie.

  13

  Now I have two very pretty rebel girls on my hands as prisoners and what the devil to do with them I d
on’t know, as I don’t like to put them in the guard house. I expect I will have to take them into my room and let them sleep with me.

  —BAZEL F. LAZEAR TO HIS WIFE, HARRISONVILLE, MISSOURI, APRIL 29, 1863, BAZEL F. LAZEAR COLLECTION, JOINT COLLECTION MISSOURI HISTORICAL SOCIETY, UNIVERSITY OF MISSOURI, QUOTED IN Inside War

  UNION CORRESPONDENCE

  Headquarters District of Central Missouri

  Warrensburg, Mo., September 10, 1864

  To: Lt. Col. B. F. Lazear, Commanding Missouri Union Militia, Second Sub-District, Lexington, Mo.

  Colonel: The commanding general is informed by Major-General Rosecrans that your troops are causing a reign of terror in LaFayette and Saline Counties and that it should receive your attention. He is also further informed that their officers are permitting them to rob the people of their property for their own benefit, to murder peaceable citizens, and commit other outrages upon the people while the pursuit of the bushwhackers is abandoned by loading the troops with plunder from the country. . . . He directs you will report fully in relation to these complaints.

  Very respectfully, your obedient servant,

  J. H. Steger, Assistant Adjutant-General

  —OR, CH. LIII, P. 145

  AND AGAIN SHE was escorted to his office, her three sheets of confession in her hand, in which she had written about the blizzard of 1861.

  Tell me about where you were before. Adair smiled brightly at the major and walked over to the map on the wall. You have had so many adventures.

  Last time you told me I was a stick.

  Well, only sometimes you’re a stick. It’s because of your being in this line of work. It’s a line of paperwork, where it’s nothing but words. She leaned to him and laid her hand on his arm.

  Major Neumann laid his hand over her own and then there was a brisk knock at the door. They both jumped and Adair turned quickly and sat on the yellow sofa.

  Major Neumann opened the door. The sergeant walked in with a tray of coffee and pastries, sat them down on the major’s desk and gave them both a cool look.

  Thank you, Sergeant.

  Sir. He turned and marched out the door and shut it behind them.

  The major stood for a minute with his back against the door. He expelled a long breath and then went to the desk. He poured coffee for them both.

  Adair took the cup from him and smiled. She said, You were going to tell me about your exciting past life before that Hessian charged in here. I bet you were somewhere very interesting, before. She drank off the cup, set it down, and then went to the map.

  Before? He smiled at her. She paused with her finger pointing at the map, circling.

  Where? she said.

  There, Kansas. Adair pinned her finger on the State of Kansas. Out of Kansas City, which was then called Westport. I was with a company of dragoons, Regular Army, for a while in Kansas. We were supposed to keep the Missourians and the Kansans from killing one another, but they were very clever about it. Killing one another, I mean. He leaned back in his chair. John Brown was very good. Jim Lane, the boys from Clay County, Missouri. We were not half as effective as they were. Adair could see he was too cheerful today to remain serious. You look much better today, Miss Adair. Is there anything you need?

  She thought about it. I need phosphorous matches, she said. I can trade them, and I am an astute trader.

  Low card wins, he said. He lifted a small bundle of phosphorous matches out of a drawer, and took out the cards as well and fanned them.

  Now don’t cheat, she said. And drew a jack. He laid the cards out on his desk and pulled one out; the ten of hearts. You could have arranged them any way you wanted before I came.

  Not at all. And I keep coming up with hearts. That’s rather significant, isn’t it? He slid them together in a quick motion. You are looking better each day, he said.

  Well, she said. I am thriving on German pastries. Have we eaten them all? Aren’t there any more? Order some more. And more coffee.

  Of course there are, he said. Of course. He went to the door and spoke to the sergeant outside and came back.

  He pulled up his chair beside her. He reached to take her hand, and put his thumb and forefinger in a circle around her wrist. He said, You are very thin. I just want you to live. Live to go home.

  She smiled at him and reached for an apple pastry.

  But tell me about Kansas.

  Well, while I was there, I met a man, his name was Schoolcraft, who was very interested in the Red Indians. He had written down enormous amounts of their language, a really thorough lexicon. He was with my unit briefly in Kansas, he had come to see the Poncas. Henry Schoolcraft. A brilliant man. He paused. I am interested in languages, I suppose because of my expertise in, in. . . . He paused. Well, in interrogation.

  She laughed. So you will tie them up and make them confess all their words. She drew the end of a black braid under her nose and twisted it as if it were a mustache. And now I have you where I want you, my redskinned beauty!

  Adair, please. He laughed.

  Tell me your word for dishpan, for throwing up! For twelve percent interest!

  I’ve decided not to tie them up, he said. Then he cleared his throat again and plunged on. And after the war I think I will put in a request to continue his work somewhere. For the Department of Ethnology. Schoolcraft has recently passed away, and of course with the war . . . with the war there’s no time or money for writing down the words of Red Indians. He paused. But I think I would be good at it.

  Of course you would! Anything that has to do with writing things down, you are top rail.

  Stop. He laughed. I am not such a stick as you think. He then turned to regard the map of the United States, and its strange manner of drifting away into unscripted, unknown lands beyond Fort Leavenworth. He said, Adair, I find your companionship to be, to be . . . I value every hour I am with you. He stood as if to attention with his fingertips at the stripe of his uniform pants. Then he crossed his arms with slow resolution. Uncrossed them.

  Adair thought of clean air and blue skies, all the war machines far away. All the burial grounds far away. She and the major standing at the window of a house looking out into a gathering storm of lightning. Long flat sheets of lightning over a land that had the aspect of an ocean of grass. The window would be in their bedroom. The bed covered with the Log Cabin quilt and fresh sheets beneath. She dusted crumbs from her hands. She had to go home first. Get out of here and go home and find her father and then she would think what to do.

  Oh it sounds wonderful! she said. If I were released, the West is the first place I would go. And the savages sound so fascinating. Maybe they’re more refined than the Shawnees. The Shawnees just brained everybody right away.

  So I’ve heard. At last he turned and looked down at her. Adair, you must go.

  I don’t want to, she said. I want to be with you.

  You must. Sit tonight and write something that will get you out of here.

  He stood out in the hall and watched as the guard escorted her back into the prison.

  THEN MRS. BUCKLEY came stalking down the hall like a railroad bridge on the loose and slapped a folded and torn piece of paper onto the crossbars of Adair’s cell.

  Well, here you are getting your mail delivered just like you was living in your own dwelling, she said. We are pampering secessionist spies.

  Adair unfolded it and pieced it back together. It was from her sister Savannah.

  Dearest Sister

  I hope this letter comes to you without interference and Mary and I pray you are safe and will soon be out of wherever it is they have placed you there in St. Louis. We have asked again and again for father at Iron Mountain but we have got no results. Mary and I pray nightly for his safety and yours as well. We have attempted to send you a package. All this is coming through the U.S. Army mail from Iron Mountain to wherever it is you are in St. Louis or Alton. Mary and I have requested a pass to go over to Tennessee to stay with Grandma and Grandpa Colley at Sug
ar Tree and we will go with Lucinda Newnan and Aunt Kelly and we should be on the road for two weeks which is hard but the Daltons say that is the best place for us to go for the duration. We will go to Cape Girardeau and take a Union packet down to Dyersville and thence on to Sugar Tree if we can get a conveyance. They say it is all free of warring there. Mary and I have made up 15 yards of wool and good Virginia linen in madder and a dark yellow. Mrs. Dalton had 15 broaches of the linen since 1861. She said we might as well make it up. We would send you a dress of it but it is too nice for prison so we have cut it into a dress for myself. I have met a man from Fredricktown, Missouri, of good family. We hope you will soon be released since we know you to be our good and loving sister and free of all animosity toward the Union cause and we know how you have always ardently opposed secession. Oh sister when will this war be over? We are going to bring back lace goods from Tennessee for you. Mary and I will try one more package before we go and hope it gets to you.

  We will return when we can and believe us ever your loving and most affectionate sisters,

  Savannah and Mary

  Dalton’s Store

  Greenville Courthouse Wayne County Missouri

  Adair read it over and over again and there in her sister’s handwriting she saw that if she were to go home she would be alone in that endeavor, but there was no help for it. It was very clear that the letter was written with the censor in mind but it was easy to read between the lines. If she could just see her home one more time. If she could find her father. Then she would be free to think about a place where the war had not come, where she and the major could start anew.

  14

  During the spring and summer of 1863, various Federal commanders instituted a policy of arresting women and teenage girls (sisters and cousins of the men in Quantrill’s band) who were suspected of aiding guerillas. . . . They were confined . . . in Kansas City, Missouri. On August 13, the looming, three-story brick building at 1409 Grand Avenue in Kansas City that General Ewing was using as a prison for some of the southern girls who had been arrested as spies . . . collapsed. The females, none of whom was older than twenty, had been confined on the second floor and as the building began to shake and walls to split apart from one another, a guard scooped up two girls and carried them outside. Nannie McCorkle leaped out a window. Thirteen-year-old Martha Anderson tried to follow, but, according to accounts of survivors, she had annoyed the guards earlier that morning and to punish her they had shackled a twelve-pound ball to her ankle. She went down in the wreckage.