Brings the Lightning (The Ames Archives Book 1) (9 page)

“I understand, but… what about all that money the men gave me? I
can’t
keep it, Walt! I just can’t! That sergeant thought I was a war widow, but my husband died years before the war.”

“Of course you can keep it! You never claimed to be a war widow, and I didn’t say you were one. If the sergeant assumed that, you’re not to blame. Besides, even though he offered it to me, I couldn’t have accepted a reward. Some of those soldiers were bound to object. They’d have wanted more for themselves. On the other hand, by asking them to give it to you, I made them feel good about themselves. The way they see it, they’re helping someone who’s lost everything. No, you’d best take it.”

“That’s almost two years’ salary for a schoolteacher! What shall I do with it?”

“You’ll need a home of your own in due course. That should be enough to buy a house—a nice place, with a couple of extra rooms. You can rent them to other teachers or ladies of good quality, and make some more money that way.”

“I owe you so much, Walt! You’ve been a real blessing to me, and given me a whole new perspective on life. How can I ever thank you?” Her voice shook a little, and she couldn’t meet his eyes. Despite himself, his heart went out to her.

“You already have,” he assured her. “In a way, you’ve been as much of a blessing to me. I’ve spent the last three years fighting a war. There’s still a lot of anger and bitterness inside me. Helping you makes me think about someone else’s needs, and keeps me from always thinking about my own. What’s more, your friendship and companionship have come to mean a great deal to me. You’re good company.”

She blushed. “I’m glad, because your friendship has meant a lot to me as well.”

He smiled. “I’d better leave you to get some sleep. Goodnight, Rose.”

“Goodnight, Walt.”

He was surprised to discover how much the thought of parting from her unsettled him. As he closed the connecting door, he wondered for the first time what it would be like to have a wife. He’d never seriously considered marriage before—during the war he hadn’t thought about much more than staying alive—but the past week in Rose’s company had opened his eyes to many things he’d been ignoring.

It took him a long time to fall asleep as he mulled it over. It had felt good to know Rose was guarding his back. You could trust a woman like her—and damned if she wasn’t a pretty one, too!

The waterfront in St. Louis was the busiest, most bustling place Walt had ever seen, even compared to the large army encampments he’d known. A couple of dozen paddlewheel riverboats and steam tugs were tied up along the quay, along with scores of wooden barges used to float cargo up and down the Mississippi River. Gangs of men loaded and unloaded cargo, passengers searched for their ships, friends and relatives looked for new arrivals, freight brokers and wagon drivers bustled to and fro, and NCOs bawled orders at animals and people. A cacophony of sound, drifting clouds of smoke from the ships’ funnels, and the odor of dung dropped by all of the draft animals made it an unforgettably noisy and smelly spectacle.

As the riverboat edged up to the quayside and the first lines were thrown, Jason appeared along with Elijah and Samson. “We’s come to get your bags, ma’am, suh,” he announced, indicating the carts the three were pushing.

“Thank you, Jason,” Rose said, smiling.

“And here’s the other half-eagle I promised you,” Walt added, handing over two five-dollar gold coins, “plus a third one to divide between Samson and Elijah for helping you.” The two men beamed as he named them, and nodded their thanks.

“Thankee, thankee, suh!” Jason enthused. “You’se been real gen’rous. Iffen you sails aboard de
Queen
again, jes’ make sure to ask for me. I’ll be ready, willin’, an’ able to assist you, ’long with ma fr’en’s here.”

“We will, thank you. You can take our baggage. Mrs. Eliot will be met by someone at the quay, but I’ll need to find a hotel.”

“Dere’s cabs waitin’ for passengers, suh,” Samson told him. “Has you picked a hotel yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Suh, de Lindell Hotel at Washington an’ Sixth is a real fine place. Lots ob merchants use it. It’s de best in de city.”

Walt thought quickly. It was sure to be expensive in such a prime location, but if he wanted to find out more about opportunities to make money, locally and on the frontier, a place like that would be ideal to mingle with businessmen and travelers who might provide information. “Very well, I’ll try it. Thank you.”

Rose exclaimed, “There’s Anna! She got my telegraph message from Nashville!”

Walt followed the direction of her pointing finger and saw a woman of approximately the same age as Rose, plump and cheerful. She was standing up on the seat of a light one-horse buggy, waving a handkerchief towards them.

“She looks like a nice lady.”

“Oh, she is! We grew up in the same town in Louisiana. She married a businessman who went down to New Orleans to trade and ended up bringing her back here with him. He did very well in the war, while she opened a school for the children of military families. It’s grown so much that she needs help.”

“Sounds like she’ll keep you busy.”

“I’m sure she will. You have my address?”

“I have. Thank you for giving it to me.” He hesitated, wondering what to say. “I’ll miss you, Rose. I hope you’ll be happy in your new life here. Perhaps you won’t mind if I call on you, if I come through St. Louis sometime.”

She looked down, a faint flush coming to her cheeks. “I’d like that very much, Walt. If you find yourself with any free time before you leave for the frontier, perhaps we can even see each other again before you go.”

“Thank you. I’ll certainly try to do that.” He took her hand and squeezed it gently, and her blush intensified.

The mooring lines were drawn tight and the gangplanks swung into place fore and aft. Jason said, “De forrard gangway’s for de passengers, suh.”

“Thank you. Let’s go.”

He offered his arm to Rose, and they set off along the outside promenade deck and down the stairs in front of the raised bridge superstructure. He steadied her as they crossed the narrow gangway, Jason and the others following with their baggage, and led her through the teeming throng on the quayside to where Anna waited with her buggy.

She jumped down, beaming with pleasure. “Rose! I do declare, it’s been years!” They embraced.

“It has indeed. Allow me to introduce Mr. Walter Ames of Sparta, Tennessee. He was good enough to escort me here. Walter, this is Mrs. Anna Spiro.”

“Mr. Ames, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” She extended her hand.

He took it in his fingers, careful to exert only minimum pressure, and bowed over it. “The pleasure is all mine, ma’am. I’m glad to be able to deliver Mrs. Eliot safely into your gracious care. We had a most enjoyable journey together.”

“We did indeed!” Rose confirmed, smiling at him. “Thank you again for all your courtesies, Mr. Ames. I shall look forward to seeing you again when you next pass through St. Louis.”

“As will I, ma’am.”

He watched as Jason and Elijah loaded Rose’s luggage into the buggy, which set off through the crowds towards the street. From behind him Walt heard Samson’s voice. “Got a cab for you, suh.” He turned to find the waiter loading his baggage into its luggage compartment at the rear.

“Thank you, Samson.” He handed him a greenback by way of a tip.

The black man hesitated. “Be you gwine to de frontier, suh?”

“Yes, I am.”

“You need a body to care for you, suh?”

Walt’s eyes widened. “You want to go west too?”

“Oh, yes, suh! I heard stories ’bout how wide open it is. Dey say people out dere care more ’bout what a man can do dan de color ob his skin.”

Walt thought wryly that Samson’s rosy dreams were probably doomed to disappointment, but there was nothing he could do about that. “How soon do you need to know?”

“Suh, de
Queen
leave tomorrow mornin’. If you tells me by tonight dat you’ll take me, I’ll be dere right away.”

“How much do you make on the
Queen
?”

“Ten dollah a month an’ all found, suh.”

“I don’t need a body servant, but I could sure use someone to help me. Can you ride? Handle a wagon? Shoot?”

“Cain’t ride a hoss, suh, but I’ve drove a two-horse farm wagon an’ hunted for deer. I won’t lie to you, suh, I be out of practice at both, but I learns real fast an’ I works hard.”

Walt made a snap decision. “You’re hired. I’ll pay you twenty dollars a month and found to start with. Can you find a place to stay for a few nights, until I’ve fixed up something?”

Samson’s face broke into a beaming smile. “Yassuh!”

“Here’s ten dollars for expenses.” Walt handed him some greenbacks. “Meet me outside the hotel tomorrow morning at eight.”

“Yassuh! I surely t’anks you, suh. You won’t regret dis.”

“All right. Thank you, Samson.”

He watched as the servant hurried away, and sighed philosophically. Giving Samson ten dollars was a test. If he drank himself into a stupor with it tonight, he’d have proved himself unworthy of trust. If he didn’t, it would be a good harbinger for the future. One way or the other, it would be worth the ten dollars to find out.

Walt swung up onto the seat of the horse-drawn cab. “Lindell Hotel, please, driver.”

“Right away, sir!”

―――――

Walt’s decision to spend a couple of days at the Lindell Hotel, despite its astronomical charges of almost ten dollars per day for room and board, paid off during his very first meal there. He listened intently at lunchtime to two merchants and two army supply officers at the table next to his, discussing the prospects for purchasing surplus equipment from the huge military depot outside the city.

Walt’s eyes gleamed with interest as he eavesdropped. Apparently the end of the war meant that surplus and worn-out supplies were being sold for pennies on the dollar. In particular, while firearms in good condition were being cleaned, greased and repacked in crates for shipment to various arsenals around the country for storage, those in poorer condition were being offered for sale at fifty cents to a dollar apiece. Walt thought to himself,
I know how to maintain guns, and rebuild ’em if need be. What
if I bought a bunch of those rejects cheaply, fixed ’em up, and took ’em out west to sell to settlers? That might be a real good way to make some more money.

He lost no time in hiring a cab to take him out to the depot. Its size was breathtaking. The guards at the gate were there for show, nothing more. Walt was able to simply walk inside without even being questioned, lost amid a stream of arriving and departing vehicles and people. He spent a couple of hours wandering around, asking questions and getting a feel for what was happening. It seemed a new unit arrived almost every day, occupying tents that were set up in a nearby field for use by transient troops. They handed in their equipment, then were formally disbanded. The discharged soldiers were sent into St. Louis to catch rail or river transport on their way homewards. The receiving area was a hive of activity, with wagons forming long lines, getting in each other’s way, drivers cursing, NCO’s bawling commands, and dust rising in choking clouds.

He wandered into the processing office at the receiving yard. It was a constant bustle of army drivers and civilian officials hurrying in, handing over forms, signing papers, then rushing out again. After watching for a while, he walked over to a harassed sergeant who’d just finished bellowing at an errant corporal.

“Trouble with the help, sergeant?” he asked genially, offering a hip flask from his back pocket.

The sergeant looked up irritably from the papers in front of him. “And who the devil are–
oh!
” His eyes lit up as he saw the flask, and he seized it eagerly. “Thank you!” He tilted it back, eyes closed in pleasure as he poured the liquor down his throat, draining at least half the contents, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “
Aaahh!
” He handed it back with visible reluctance. “That was very kind of you, sir. Just what I needed!”

“My pleasure. I’ve worked with the army in Tennessee, so I know how hard your job is.”

“Uh-huh. What brings you here to St. Louis?” He ran his eyes over Walt’s smart civilian suit.

“I’m hoping to buy some worn-out surplus firearms and refurbish them for sale to those heading west. Seems as good a way as any to make a fresh start after the war.”

“Uh-huh. I’m not trying to be difficult, but can you prove you worked with the army in Tennessee?”

Walt produced his forged letter of recommendation. The NCO read it and nodded, satisfied. “Thanks. Can’t be too careful, you know.” He handed it back. “There are all sorts of shady characters wandering around here, trying to make money at the expense of the army.”

And I’m one of them,
Walt thought, but he didn’t say it aloud. “I suppose it’s your job to stop them?”

“Yeah. We’re supposed to account for every wagonload of supplies we take in. Of course, by the time our paperwork gets married up with the bills of lading for what’s going out, I wouldn’t be surprised if half the stuff is missing—but that’s not my problem. If you’re interested in buying firearms, you’ll need to talk to a friend of mine. His name’s Wallace. He’s a sergeant too; you’ll find him at the ordnance warehouse, three rows down from here. Tell him Jenkins sent you, and show him that letter. If you see him right,” and he rubbed forefinger and thumb suggestively together, “I reckon he’ll help you find what you need.”