The Railroad War by Jesse Taylor Croft Page B

stared out of one of her windows, listening to the melody of the rain. In the distance shells were falling again.
     But the noise didn’t disturb her. On the contrary, she liked the shelling, even when the occasional round fell near the building
     where she kept her rooms.
    The lamp beside her on the table was burning low and needed tending, but she did nothing about it. She was comfortable with
     her private thoughts.
    And she wished her solitude was not soon to be broken. She was expecting a visitor, and she wasn’t looking forward to the
     visit.
    All evening she’d been thinking about the Yankee captain who’d paid a call on her that morning. She’d liked him, and she’d
     liked the effect she’d had on him—she’d made him so delightfully off balance. And she’d done it not by anything that she had
     said, but by what she thought of as her sphinxlike manner. Yet he’d handled himself well and carefully. He was not about to
     fall on his face over her, and she admired that. She liked the thought of the challenge he’d pose for her. Did he laugh much?
     she wondered. She hoped so.
    The visitor she expected was less controlled. He was ardent and passionate and earnest. These were not unendurable qualities,
     but they made a man easier to manipulate. And at the moment, her manipulation of him made Jane Featherstone feel a little
     guilty.
    The truth was that, beneath her mask of mild softness, beneath her pose of feminine helplessness, she enjoyed being a spy
     for the Union—not because she admired the Union cause, but because she enjoyed the excitement and the danger.
    Her parents—high-toned, slavery hating, and quite strict disciples of Christ—had not provided her childhood with much excitement.
     Her father had first been a merchant in Nashville, at which he had succeeded, and then an insurance salesman, at which he
     had not just succeeded but prospered. Jane Featherstone had grown to despise the life where all risks—both here and in the
     hereafter—were covered.
    Now, having abandoned her parents and all the silliness they had tried to impose on her, she felt more vital than she’d believed
     possible. And yet she wasn’t completely comfortable or satisfied with every situation she found herself in. For instance,
     as much as the Yankee captain fascinated her, she didn’t like betraying her coming visitor’s confidences to him.
    Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and then someone knocked softly at her door.
    “Coming,” she said. She rose and started to draw her dressing gown about her, then thought better of it. She wore nothing
     beneath the dressing gown because of the heat, but she was not unaware of the effect glimpses of her bare body would make
     on her visitor.
    When she reached the door, she paused. “Who is it?” she called softly, knowing perfectly well who was on the other side.
    “It’s Noah, Jane,” the man on the other side said.
    “Oh, Noah, my darling,” she said as she opened the door. “I had so hoped that you would come. But I feared that you wouldn’t
     be able to get away.”
    “As you see, I did,” Noah Ballard said. Smiling, he stepped through the open door and took her in his arms.
    “My dear, you’re drenched,” she said, stroking his hair, which was plastered to his head by the rain. Even though Noah was
     soaked, and even though her dressing gown instantly took on his dampness, she pressed her body close against him. “But I’m
     so happy to have you here,” she went on in a whisper. “It must have been difficult to get away.”
    “Well nigh impossible,” he said. “I’ve been running the trains for the general since…” He stared at the ceiling, trying to
     remember how long he’d been on his feet working. Failing, he threw his hands up and went on, “But the general passed by and
     saw that, in his words, I was about to fall on my face and drown in the mud. So he ordered me to go and get some rest.” He
     pulled himself away from her,