thirty-two

She didn't see Beau that day, nor did she seek the opportunity to do so. For the occupants of the little house on Lincoln Avenue, their time was given to practical matters. She and Frankie spent the afternoon with needle and thread and Mrs. Johnston's dresses. On the happenstance that Kitty, in the course of her activities, should come face to face with that lady, collars and cuffs were exchanged from one garment to another, bric-brac was added, and braiding and lace were repositioned. Kitty wasn't sure if the end result was convincing, but it was certainly enough to make the original owner scratch her head in puzzlement should she and Kitty meet.

It was a foregone conclusion, that Mrs. Johnston would show up at Beaumont's ball. From what Charlie had learned, every prominent figure in East Coast politics would be there, and that included members of President Grant's cabinet and perhaps even the President himself.

That information led credence to the rumor within the secret service that things were coming to a head. Undoubtedly, a move would be made that might well determine the future of the country.

Kitty had shaken her head at Charlie's disclosure that afternoon. "Charlie, it seems to me you have enough information to put an end to this, or at least tell the President and his people, to stay the hell away from Davis Port."

"This whole thing has to play out Kitty. The only way to stop the Fraternatis is to catch them in the act."

"If you say so." But she really didn't agree or understand.

"Look, The Fraternatis and powerful secret societies like them control the course of the world, like the undercurrents in that river out there determine the changes that take place on the surface of the water. President Lincoln put it something like this, 'The money power preys upon the nation in time of peace and conspires against them in times of adversity. It is more despotic than monarchy, more insolent than autocracy more selfish than bureaucracy.'"

Kitty unconsciously sighed. "Than this is fruitless, if they are that powerful and that relentless … if you can't stop them …"

"Maybe it is fruitless … but Kitty what if we didn't try, what if we didn't fight with the very last drop of our life blood? What if we let them have our Country? To my way of thinking freedom is worth the cost and if in the end, we as individuals lose, at least it will be with the satisfaction that we gave all to the fight, and the knowledge that others will lift up our banner and carry it into battle."

Charlie picked up the empty box that had contained the meat he'd just delivered. "If you don't hear anything from Beaumont Davis by tomorrow, you'll have to initiate contact."

Hands on hips, chin forward, Kitty asked. "Just how do you propose I do that?"

"You'll think of something." Charlie said confidently.

Kitty shook her head. "A lady waits. I AM supposed to be a lady."

Charlie ran the back of a hand over his hairy jowls and smiled. "There's nothing more stimulating to a man, as when a woman goes out of her way to let him know she wants him."

Kitty stared hard at Charlie, the light of sudden understanding flashing from her eyes. So that's the way it was going to be. "Let me get this straight … you want me to … to seduce Beau?"

Frankie spoke up. "Kitty … this is war and in war you use what ever weapons you have at your disposal."

Matt had been standing with his back to all of them throughout this conversation. He turned now and the glare in his steely eyes caused Charlie and Frankie to look away. Kitty Russell held his gaze until it was Matt Dillon who looked away, not in defeat but in acceptance.

That evening was a quiet one. After a simple supper, Frankie found other things to do giving Matt and Kitty privacy to spend time with one another.

GS GS GS GS

Breakfast the next day was a lighthearted affair, perhaps the need to relieve some of the pressure of their current situation caused their carefree exchange, as Frankie retold a story from her war experience. "So, I was working 'undercover', following the Alabama 120th, nursing fellows and such, when in rides ol' Stonewall Jackson himself. This was maybe six months before he died. He was astride his mighty steed, and glory shown about him, for he was greatly revered. On his face, he wore a sour look. He held his right hand up in the air. I thought maybe he was waving at me … so being a gal with a friendly reputation, I waved back. He set up camp in a huge, rather fancy tent, at least compared to what the rest of the soldiers were living out of … and over the next few days I saw him coming and going and most of the time he had his right hand up and his face all pruned like he'd soaked a little too long in the tub. Well, I always returned the salute with my arm raised and my face pruned up. But, it did concern me some, because I couldn't figure out if he was happy to see me or upset at something I might have done.

"Finally, I asked a young lieutenant I was friendly with, why the General always had that look on his face and his right hand raised at me, when we crossed paths. "He's like that to everyone." He replied. It seems, 'Ol' Stonewall liked to suck on lemons because he figured anything that tasted good had to be bad for his health, and anything that tasted bad had to be good. Furthermore, he was right handed and he reckoned that the blood in his body got all out of whack and raising his arm was his way of evening out the situation.'"

Matt added with a chuckle, "Poor Frankie, here you thought you'd caught the general's eye, and all it was, was sour diet and poor circulation."

Kitty was laughing so hard that she had tears running down her face, and this is the reason no one heard the knocking at the back door.

Beaumont Davis had been out early that morning with the premise of fishing, but with his real motive being to spend some time with Mrs. Kathleen Kent. He had landed his fishing boat along the shore line in front of the cottage occupied by Kitty. He'd hoped to see her in the yard, when he didn't, he decided to summon her, with a knock on the back door. He was somewhat taken back by the notes of frivolity which floated from the interior of the cottage. His knocks went unanswered and even his call through the screen door went unnoticed. So he pushed open the door and fell privy to the conversation inside.