Keeping Secrets by Joan Lowery Nixon Page B

Hennessey answered calmly. She flicked the horse’s reins, her hands firm and back straight, as though nothing out of the ordinary could possibly happen, and continued chatting to Peg; but her voice changed to the same light conversational tone that some of Ma’s friends used when they stopped by for a cup of tea.
    “I understand that San Francisco is a vital, energetic town with great potential for trade by both sea and rail,” she said.
    But all Peg could think about was the little silvery handgun hidden in Miss Hennessey’s reticule and the bearded soldier who had stolen some of Miss Hennessey’s money.
    Peg tensed as the sound of horses’ hooves increased and the patrol rode into view, but she sighed with relief when she saw it was a different group of soldiers. The bearded thief was nowhere in sight.
    Miss Hennessey obediently pulled the horse to a stop on the patrol leader’s orders and smiled at him. “My daughter and I have a letter of safe passage from General John Bassett,” she said. “Would you like to see it, Sergeant?”
    “Corporal,” he barked. As she reached into her reticule, he said, “Just hand over your bag, ma’am. I’ll get the letter myself.”
    “As you wish,” Miss Hennessey said. She immediately handed him the reticule, but Peg held her breath.
    The gun! He was going to discover the gun!
    The corporal’s fingers explored the small bag, but he pulled out the letter, not the handgun. Peg’s breath came out in a whoosh of relief. Obviously, the handgun wasn’t in the reticule. Where was it?
    The corporal squinted, and his lips moved as he slowly read the letter. “From what I can make out,” he finally said, “you live in St. Joe and have been down to River Road to see your sister.”
    “That’s correct,” Miss Hennessey said. She smiled at him shyly.
    He folded the letter and stuck it back inside the reticule, handing it to Miss Hennessey.
    We can go now!
Peg thought with relief. Even though she was Union, too, as were most of their friends in St. Joe, Peg had had enough of Union patrols.
    But one of the soldiers had leaned from his horse to peer into the buggy. “Box of something back here,” he said to the corporal.
    As he pushed at the box Peg shouted, “Watch out for the eggs! They’ll break!”
    “Ma’am, you and your little girl climb down from the buggy,” the corporal said. “We’re goin’ to do a search. Nothin’ special. It’s routine.”
    “A search for what?” Miss Hennessey asked.
    The corporal didn’t answer. As she stood by the buggy with Miss Hennessey, Peg watched with wide eyes as one soldier examined every single egg, accidentally cracking two of them. As he opened the pickle jars and plunged his fingers inside, Peg grimaced in disgust. She’d been looking forward to munching on the sweet, crispy pickles, but now she wouldn’t touch them! Two of the soldiers crawled in and out of the buggy, examining the seats, the canopy, and even the underside. Another soldier checked the trappings on the horse. What if Miss Hennessey had hidden her gun somewhere in the buggy? The soldiers would find it!
    But they came up empty.
    “Perhaps I could help you, if you’d only tell me the purpose of your search,” Miss Hennessey said.
    But without a word, the corporal motioned to her to get back into the buggy. When she and Peg had seated themselves, he handed Miss Hennessey the reins and said, “You can go now.”
    Stirring up a choking cloud of dust, the soldiers dug their boots into their horses’ flanks and galloped off.
    Peg squinted and rubbed the dust from her eyes. “I thought they’d find your gun,” she said.
    Miss Hennessey smiled. “I realized I had been recklessin keeping it inside my reticule,” she told Peg. “It’s safely tucked into the pocket of my skirt.”
    Peg twisted to look down the road in the direction the soldiers had ridden. “What will we do if one of them rides back to rob you, like last time?”
    “I don’t think