Fiddlehead (The Clockwork Century 5)

Eleven

Maria arrived at Fort Chattanooga the next morning, having slept on the train and dreamed of dead cannibals who wouldn’t stop chewing. She awoke abruptly as the train shuddered to a halt. For a moment she was flooded with relief, then she remembered that her nightmares weren’t really nightmares—not the usual, impossible kind—and the half-sleeping horror rushed back to take its place. She shook her head and wished for a spot to wash her face, have a drink of water, and flush away some of the disorientation left over from the restless night.

But here was her stop. She needed to gather her wits and the nurse’s papers and get back to business.

Sleeping on trains was never something she enjoyed, and now, more than ever, she wished there’d been some alternative. She stumbled half awake down the steps and onto the platform, then went toward the station bleary-eyed, all the while watching to see if anyone had followed her here, or if anyone was waiting to pick up the chase. It felt like too many things to concentrate on at once. In the back of her mind she feared that an entire battalion of rogue agents could be on her tail and she might’ve slept right through them picking up her scent.

“Miss Boyd!” a familiar voice called.

It stopped her in her tracks. After a flash of panic, she saw the speaker and recognized him as a friend rather than foe. It surprised her enough to jolt her more fully awake. “Mr. Epperson?”

“Henry, please!” he suggested for what must have been the dozenth time. Jostling against the flow of the debarking passengers, he swam the short distance toward her—hand up, waving in her general direction. Upon reaching her, he touched the front of his hat and said, a little out of breath, “I’m glad I caught the right train. There are two others coming in from Richmond today, and I didn’t know which one you’d taken. I heard there was an incident at the hospital. What happened?”

She sighed wearily. “I’ll tell you over breakfast, if we can find a spot that’s quiet enough. ” She glanced around the station and saw nothing promising, so she asked, “Do you know of a place where we could get a bite to eat? Perhaps some coffee? I don’t know the city at all. ”

“I do know of a place, yes. It’s just across the street. ”

As promised, across the street was a small café that specialized in tea and baked goods, but also offered a light breakfast. Maria attempted to make note of the expense in order to bill the Pinks later, but Henry wasn’t having it, and he bought the morning meal for them both.

At a small table in the big front window, they warmed themselves with coffee and waited for their food. The street outside was crowded with people, mostly train travelers and soldiers, for this was a military garrison, after all. In fact, if Maria remembered correctly, at least some portion of the city was walled.

Just like Seattle, the thought flickered through her head.

Since Henry was more familiar with the locale than Maria, she asked him. “I understand this fort has a wall around it. Is that right?”

“Most of it. The Tennessee River curves through the city, cutting it in half. There’s a wall around the south side—the military and industrial complex, where we are right now—that starts at one point on the river and ends at Moccasin Bend, near the foot of Lookout Mountain. ”

She struggled to picture it. “So, basically, the southern end of the city is ringed by the river on one side, and the wall around the rest?”

“Yes, ma’am, that’s about right. ”

“And Lookout Mountain…” Her question trailed off as a serving girl put two plates in front of them. Maria had eggs and toast. Henry settled for biscuits with honey and a side of bacon. “Lookout Mountain,” she began again, snapping her napkin open and placing it across her lap. “That’s where our friend’s family is taking vacation, correct?”

“Correct,” he said discreetly. “Near there, at any rate. ”

&

nbsp; “Within the wall?”

“Just outside it, I should think. ”

They kept the conversation chatty and open, lest anyone overhear and think they were whispering about something interesting. “Perhaps we should pay them a visit before we leave town,” she suggested.

He spread a big pat of butter across the nearest biscuit. “That might be fun. In fact, I’m here on a mission from their favorite uncle because I need a word with their porter. I have paperwork they’ll require, and expenses for the road. ”

“How kind of their uncle,” she murmured around a sip of coffee, assuming they spoke of Lincoln.

“He’s a kind man indeed. ” Henry let his gaze slip around the room, checking to see if anyone might be listening. No one showed any undue interest, but there were still several people within hearing range: two serving girls, another pair of customers, and the old woman who took orders at the counter.

Maria saw what Henry was doing, and came to the same conclusion. It wasn’t safe to speak openly, not quite yet. So they chatted idly about nothing in particular until the room had cleared, leaving only the counter woman, who was engrossed in the daily paper on the other side of the shop.

Finally, Henry leaned in, the gesture charmingly, deliberately calibrated to look like flirtation. “The hospital,” he prompted. “What happened there?”

It was Maria’s rather well-informed opinion that Henry did “flirtatious” very nicely. She leaned forward to meet his intimately styled invitation, and replied in a similar tone. “The captain was most accommodating. She gave me a gift on my way out the door, but someone else wanted it. Badly. A firefight broke out in the surgical ward. I escaped. ”

In precisely the same purr he would’ve used to seduce her, he asked, “With an ambulance? I heard that one went missing, and turned up downtown. ”

She performed a girlish giggle, letting the ruse run wild. “It was faster than my feet, and I didn’t see any horses handy. I made do. ”