150 Years Ago

[Sgt. Howard]

Try setting your GPS to speak with an Australian accent, and then getting directions to somewhere in southern Louisiana...

Try getting directions to ANYWHERE in Vermont from a local, regardless of what languages you speak

[Sgt. Howard]

Something about that 'Ebbie' fellow caught in Cornelius' craw- granted, NOBODY had any business being that huge- but there was more. He used the rank 'Centurion'... who would know that? And the reference that 'Others have secrets that shouldn't be known' had him rather perplexed. He studied the lock- not that he could handle it, but it was within sight.
The keyhole looked nothing like any he had ever seen- the key itself had to be VERY thin and corrugated, it seemed. The hole (more of a jagged slot, actually) sat in a round facing on the front of the lock- it did not appear to go through to the back. He knew the bail was probably hardened, as was the case. Getting out of THIS situation might prove ... challenging.
His nose itched. His hands could no longer reach his face, so he rubbed it on his left shoulder. Better... huh?... he sniffed his left shoulder. It smelled of... sweat... animal... horse sweat. Why would his shoulder smell of horse sweat?

Because 'Ebbie' slapped his palm on it- Ebbie is a centaur!
And Ebbie is an old cohort of Billens!

So... what is Billens?

After about twenty fruitless minutes, he went back to study of the lock...

[jwhouk]

Ebbie was in a foul mood. Not that it was any different than any other day on the Queen City Belle, of course, but today was proving more difficult than others.

There was a Confederate prisoner and a spy – both on his ship. The latter had been behind the little sabotage issue, he was sure. Billens had at least told him about the prisoner. He allowed himself a slight harrumph at that. He might be older than the hills, but that new prototype lock? He'd be long gone and at Parkersburg before he'd figure out how to pick it.

He soured a bit, like he'd bitten one of the over-ripe apples that used to be in his mama's orchards back east. Though he'd managed to keep the boats going up and down the river to Louisville through this damned war, the Rebs were making things harder, now that they were fighting for their lives.

And, if he'd heard reports from the west correctly, they were also turning to lives of crime. Missouri was turning into a state of lawlessness off the river. And there was reason to believe the same thing might happen in the stretch of the Ohio whence they were soon to arrive.

He grabbed a Pinkerton letterhead from his makeshift office off the main bridge, and wrote out a cryptic message:

MADAM, YOUR AGENT INTRODUCED ME TO THE ROMAN GLADIATOR TODAY. CALM FOR NOW BUT HE HAS A BRUTUS. EXPECT SOIREE WITH YOU IN PARKERSBURG, BUT MIGHT WANT TO WEAR THOSE SKIRTS OF YOURS. WILL TRY TO CONTAIN MYSELF HERE. REGARDS, ECA

He folded it quickly, put it in one of the envelopes and sealed it. Moments later, he found one of the deck hands.

"Tommy," he asked the young man, who quickly came to attention. "You're one of my fast runners, correct?"

"Not to brag, suh," he stood proudly, "But ah once rode raht through a Rebel encampment without 'em firin' a single shot. An' I kin do the Huntington-Pittsburg run faster than this boat prolly could."

"Good, but I'm not asking you to go to Pittsburg." He handed him the dispatch. "Get your running boots on and take a skiff to our next port…" He looked at his watch, then at the river bank. "Looks like Ripley's comin' up. This goes to that widow lady in Parkersburg. Eyes only pro-toe-call, awright?" The young man nodded. "And you have to get thayuh befor'n we do – WELL before. Have that right?" He nodded again. "Off with ye, then."

The young man nodded, then went to the rear of the boat. The Belle was a side-steamer, so everything went on and off the boat by way of the aft deck. He watched as he took a skiff and a pole, slid it out the back, and made headway to the shore.

Tommy, he recalled, had done this before for him – that one time with the unpleasant business with that silly Rebel general who tried to commandeer his boat. After getting the requisite beat down, he'd sent the young colt out to notify the Union commander in Cincinnati. The reward wasn't great, but it got him some notoriety with his true employers.

He kept an eye on the lad as he swiftly made his way to shore, then left the boat at the dock in Ripley. The ship would pick it up again on the return trip down the Ohio.

"Where'd you send Wright off to?" The captain peeked his head out the wheelhouse door. "He was up for duty at the top of the hour."

"Had to send out a dispatch, due to that little issue we had earlier," Alexander said dismissively. "Nothing for you to worry about. Did you get the engine repaired?"

"Yes, but what's this about? We have a saboteur or somethin' on board?"

"It's being handled," Ebbie said with a look. "Get us to Huntington before the damn sun drops."

The captain gave him an annoyed look. He might be the captain, but this was Alexander's ship. He retreated into the wheelhouse, closing the door.

Alexander sighed as he went back to his makeshift office. Once this godforsaken war was done, he needed to get out of this business. Maybe try his hand at farming. He heard there was plenty of land to go round out in the territories on the other side of the Mississippi.

He picked up that handbill they'd received a few weeks back in Louisville. Some speculator was selling land in large quantities along this river north of Davenport, Iowa. Odd name for a river, though: "Wapsipinicon."

[jwhouk]

Yeah, I know, we're getting meta. And at the rate we're going, we'll get to DC sometime about Christmas... maybe.

More to come...

[Sgt. Howard]

"So, then, exactly what DID just happen back there?" asked Hatch.
"Welp," Billens started, " seems sumbody fiddled with the valve linkage on the engine, causing the wheel to lock up- that sumbody then used the distraction to drug Austin with ether and try to kill Mr. Younger whilst he was off to the closet... I would say our neighbors to the South don't want us knowing what Mr. Younger knows, and are only too happy to silence him. Somehow, and Mr. Younger here is not very forthcoming, he managed to slip his cuffs and chains and disarm this 'sumbody of a fightin' knife and a six-shot Ethan Allen Pepperbox... quite the trick, I would say,"
Cornelius looked at the wall, ignoring the commentary.
"At that point, Dashnois came out and attempted to detain the prisoner- he got a busted set of knuckles and a fresh serving of crow for his efforts. Next, you showed up and sounded the alarm... and I believe at THAT point, you know as much as any of us,"
"Yea, but- well, Younger- how'd you know that woman wuz hiding a monkey under her hoopskirt?"

"You seem to be lost, young man," she observed of the thin fellow that emerged in her makeshift ward, " passengers are not allowed here, due to possible contagion. What deck are you looking for?"
'Tanner' had not yet taken the time to doff his false hair- he knew he would be identified if he didn't, but he kept bustling into one cluster of witnesses after another, and THIS observant nurse pose a REAL threat... and he was pretty much unarmed.
"Mah error," he softly stated as he turned to leave. She wanted to pursue him, but didn't quite know why- she made note of his scent- he had both blood proteins, rather uncommon, easy to spot- and kept to her charges.

"You'll be dropped off in due time, Dashnois- your hand is pretty much useless. Besides, I've no replacement for the Dragoon pistol that Mr. Alexander... crushed... and while I don't care for the loss of a team member, I don't see where it's avoidable,"
"Now wait- I can pack that stupid pepperbox, right? And I'm not too bad with that fancy Italian frogsticker, even left handed! I can stay with you, I can do this duty one-handed!"
"We've no lead for that thing- I'm not even sure what caliber it is- and you will NOT have use of a knife to guard a prisoner when you've proven yourself to be barely capable of self control! Besides... you're right handed, am I correct?"
"Well, uh, yea..."
Billens eyed him for a moment- "Have you EVER wiped your bottom with your left hand?"
Dashnois slumped his shoulders.

[jwhouk]

---

Oscar had a cold wash cloth on his head where the bulkhead had whacked him. He was only faintly listening to the debriefing that was going on in the other room.

That strange woman... and the dog. What in the world could have brought that on? He checked his scalp; at least he wasn't bleeding, and the ache had rescinded somewhat to a dull roar.

Wonder if that one nurse might have something for this, he thought.

"Uh... Marshall?" His voice sounded a lot worse than he felt. He managed to get upright on the bunk, and wobbled himself over to the door separating the two rooms of the suite.

"Private, you're not in any condition to be walking around," Billens said. Hatch and Hough were watching Cornelius - Hatch had his revolver trained on the prisoner, though he honestly couldn't even tell if he had his gun loaded or not. And Dashnois was pouting in the corner.

"I'm... I'm fine, suh. Besides," he motioned back to the still-passed-out form of Austin in the bunk room, "he's likely to start snoring like a banshee in short order. I was gonna say - last when I was out for the bivy, ran into a nurse who was 'compning some wounded soldiers, back ta Baltimore. Chance she's got somethin' that could reduce this headache I gots to a dull roar?"

Billens shook his head. "There's a spy on board, private. It might not be a good idea for..."

Oscar's vision clouded for a moment as he realized what he'd just heard. The voice from the dream - or vision, or whatever the hell it was, he didn't know anymore - was Billens. He looked at Cornelius with a long stare. Is he in this same cahoots as this guy?

"Watts? WATTS!" Billens was snapping his fingers to get his attention.

"Oh, sorry, suh, it's only an occasional throb - hard to keep focused." He motioned toward Dashnois. "Maybe she'd be able to help Dash there as well as me. She seemed rather affable to blue coats."

Billens looked hard at their prisoner. "I do believe that Mister Alexander is taking care of the spy issue. And if our Mister Younger will behave long enough for us to provide him with some dinner and eventually a change of clothing, I think we could arrange something."

Watts stared at Cornelius with an almost pleading look in his eye. Just then, he noticed something on the bed. Right where he'd nearly cracked open his skull on the bulkhead, there was the pointed edge of the broken saw file he'd seen before. Cornelius was pretty much sitting right on it - but probably couldn't feel it because it was under a chain and the new padlock provided by Mr. Alexander.

His eyes rose up to meet Cornelius's. There was a quizzical look on the prisoner's face, then a slight shift of his body - one that could be interpreted as a shrug of consent. But Watts knew it was something else: You've got me. I know it's there, you know it's there. Their eyes met again. Cornelius's eyebrow raised, as if to ask, Well?

Watts spoke up: "I think our Confederate soldier isn't going anywhere for a while." He looked at Cornelius again for confirmation.

Cornelius looked at him for a moment - then nodded silently.

Billens seemed oblivious to any exchange. "Very well. I need all of you at full strength. Hough, you keep your pistol trained on the door. Hatch, you're on the prisoner. Dashnois, you accompany Mr. Watts with that knife of yours - if you think you can wield it left-handed?"

"It's war, suh," Dashnois said, standing up eagerly. "I'll make do."

Billens rolled his eyes for a moment. "Whence you return to the cabin, you'll give the password to gain entry." Billens thought for a moment, then grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled something down using a pencil procured from his coat.

He showed it to Watts. "You do know how to read, soldier?" Watts nodded, looking down at the scrip: BADGER.

"I do, suh - not sure about Dashy though," he chuckled. Dashnois narrowed his eyes.

"Give me that," he snagged it with his left hand and looked. "Hm. Appropriate." He handed it back to Billens. "I'll have you know, suh, I can read in two languages. French an' English. Granpere taught me when I was six."

"A little culture for the giant," Younger said, under his breath.

Dashnois chose to ignore him.

"Uh, I think she was on the starboard side of the boat with her patients," Watts said, motioning Dashnois to lead the way.

[Sgt. Howard]

The counter-sign is "Mushroom"

[jwhouk]

C'mon, I'm tryin' ta WRITE here, don't make me laugh...

---

The pair of soldiers had inquired discreetly of one of the porters about the nurse and other soldiers. They were located in the foreward part of the ship, just past the main dining room area.

As Watts and Dashnois walked through the crowd, they both unconsciously scanned the crowd to see if they recognized anyone. Dash was shaking his head as they reached the door to the infirmary.

"Damn Rebel was right," he mumbled. "We pro'ly walked right by him, and didn't know."

Watts just shrugged. "Keep a watch out, though," he said, knocking on the door.

The redheaded nurse he'd seen before – McBride, he recalled – answered the door.

"Hello? Oh, you again… what happened to your head?" She turned and saw the larger man's hand. "And your hand! Was that what all that commotion was I heard earlier?"

"Uh, yes'm," Oscar said politely. "We were wondering if we could impose on you for your services?"

McBride eyed the pair, then looked out at the great room.

"Come in," she said quickly.

The infirmary was about the size of the two rooms they occupied to the aft, but without the dividing wall. There were a series of three bunks, doubled up, with two on the outside wall and one on the inside. There was also a single cot that Watts noticed immediately could be curtained off. All of the bunks except the single and one of the double bunks were occupied at the moment by individuals who appeared to be asleep.

There was a table, some cabinets, and shelves. The smell reminded him of his doctor's office back in Beloit.

"Now, tell me you two didn't get into some sort of fight," she asked, looking at Dashnois' hand.

"No, ma'am, we were having a little issue with our detail," Dashnois said before yelping when she squeezed it.

"That sounds like a broken hand," she said. "Let me see what I can do about it."

[Julie]

The counter-sign is "Mushroom"

BAHAHAHAHA!!! Sgt. Howard is my official Favorite Person of the Day!!

[DinkyInky]

He showed it to Watts. "You do known how to read, soldier?" Watts nodded, looking down at the scrip: BADGER.

The counter-sign is "Mushroom"

*holding sides while laughing until tears roll down*

I swear on all that's Holy, I'll make you two live to regret it if i rebreak my ribs!

But thanks all the same. I really needed the laugh today after the last two weeks I've had...

[Sgt. Howard]

Ah... but the "ALL IS WRONG" code word is

SNAKE!!!!

[Hansontoons]

Ah... but the "ALL IS WRONG" code word is

SNAKE!!!!

Ohh noooooo!

badgerbadgerbadger....

[Hansontoons]

He showed it to Watts. "You do known how to read, soldier?" Watts nodded, looking down at the scrip: BADGER.

The counter-sign is "Mushroom"

*holding sides while laughing until tears roll down*

I swear on all that's Holy, I'll make you two live to regret it if i rebreak my ribs!

But thanks all the same. I really needed the laugh today after the last two weeks I've had...

Hugs sent your way.

[DinkyInky]

He showed it to Watts. "You do known how to read, soldier?" Watts nodded, looking down at the scrip: BADGER.

The counter-sign is "Mushroom"

*holding sides while laughing until tears roll down*

I swear on all that's Holy, I'll make you two live to regret it if i rebreak my ribs!

But thanks all the same. I really needed the laugh today after the last two weeks I've had...

Hugs sent your way.

Thanks.

[jwhouk]

And now, back to your regularly scheduled Civil War drama:
---

After a good 15 minutes of what seemed like torture to Dashnois – and much to the bemusement of Oscar and the soldiers in the infirmary – McBride had the hand re-wrapped in a rather unusual splint.

"Potatoes keep the hand in a natural position, so your hand doesn't become deformed when you move," she explained. "Here's some laudanum pills – go easy with these, obviously. No more than one every eight hours. Mind that you'll be out like a light after you take it."

"I'm a big boy, I've taken opium b'fore," Dashnois grunted.

"Think she's more worried you'll pass out in here," Watts remarked. "I sure as heck ain't gonna carry you back to the room."

"Now to you," she said, looking at Watts. "You said you hit your head on the bulkhead?" Oscar nodded. She looked at his scalp. "Hm, no cuts; looks like that cold washcloth helped with the swelling."

Oscar happened to look up when she was examining the bruise – she had fangs.

Fangs… and she was a nurse?

"Doesn't look too bad. Think I have some Willow Bark Tea that you can sip on." She stepped back, tousling his hair. "That way only one of you will be out like a light."

"Oh, Billens is gonna be thrilled about that," Oscar replied, distracted by the comment.

"Wait – Jeb Billens is on this ship, and he didn't say hello to me? For shame," she replied. "You tell him that he needs to stop down and chat me up. Haven't seen him in ages."

"We are a bit indisposed with our current duty," Watts commented.

"We're here through Parkersburg," she said. "These boys are heading to the Washington Arsenal Hospital for treatment, so the B&O is waiting for us."

"Hey, that's where we're…" Watts nudged Dashnois. "Uh, we're heading to Parkersburg, obviously." McBride chuckled to herself.

"We're on the same side, dearies," she said, patting the huge Belgian on his cheek. She packed some of the tea into a small vial for Watts.

"I take it that the boys are enjoying the after-effects of the laudanum?" Watts asked.

"Some of them are on a little bit stronger medication than that," she replied. Just then, one of the wounded rolled over on his side – and both Watts and Dashnois saw that the man had lost his right arm.

"Gess it coulda been worse fer me," Dashnois said with a frown.

[Sgt. Howard]

At long last, 'Tanner' got back to his cabin, entering without witnesses. He removed the black wig and beard, peeled off the eyebrows and went to the mirror to get the odd pieces of spirit gum that held them in place. Once satisfied that there were no traces left, he changed from the grey/black ensemble to something in Tan/cream and found his Red Haired wig with sideburns and matching walrus moustache. He then spent a few moments grooming this set while thinking of another way to silence Mr. Younger.
Certainly the Union guards understood by now that somebody wanted their prisoner dead. He had hoped that the large Private he had accosted might do the job for him, but it was not so- there were passengers who watched through barely opened doors that gossiped like old ladies afterwards about what happened, how a monster of a Pinkerton thwarted everything and returned the prisoner to custody... unharmed...
He had lost his best knife and a rather nice pepperbox in the deal as well- perhaps the best bet would be to assemble the carbine, shoot the man and dive overboard? Except... he couldn't swim worth beans. Poison? Maybe... he did have a fair amount of strychnine to work with... but how to insure the prisoner got his dose before others started choking... the stuff does work quickly, after all.
And that damned Yankee Nurse- something about her worried him. People who worry him usually wind up dead... not that he enjoyed killing, mind you...
Or at least, that's what he kept telling himself...

[jwhouk]

The rest of the trip down river for the day went by slowly. Plans for mealtime were made, so that one of them would pick up the food from the kitchen and return it to the cabin.

Austin had recovered from his attack – though only after a case of the heaves had emptied his stomach. Billens had no choice but to send him down McBride.

Predictably and unfortunately, Dashnois was out like a light shortly after taking the laudanum. Billens pondered simply wrapping the private's body up and floating him back down stream in a skiff. Watts gently talked him out of it.

Hough was assigned to get the meal, while Hatch would maintain watch outside the door until Hough returned – and, if possible, be on the lookout for anyone who might be "casing" their room.

"Perhaps I can convince Ebby to switch our room after our little layover," Billens mused as he and Watts minded the prisoner.

"Suh, beggin' the pardon, but what exactly is between you and our Confederate gentleman, anyways?" Watts figured this might be as good a time as any to ask.

"That's a rather personal question to ask, private," Billens said through slit eyes. "Do you have it in your head to practice law after your tour in the service is complete?"

"No, suh," Watts replied. "But I can tell when someone seems to have it in for another man. And you seem to have it for Mister… Cornelius?"

Billens went wide-eyed very quickly.

"How do you…"

"He overheard you, Agent, back at the stable," Cornelius whispered. "And personally, I wouldn't mind knowin' the answer, either.

Billens didn't like being put on the spot.

"You and I have always been on the wrong side of the conflict… Centurion." This made Cornelius freeze in his tracks. "Your choice to side with the confederacy was just the latest incident."

"The Iliad," Watts blurted out.

"No, not that," Billens chuckled. "Our friend here is old, but not that old."

"But… how?"

There was the knock at the door. "Badger!" was called out.

"Mushroom is clear," came Billens' reply. Hatch opened the door, and Hough brought in the spread for the lot of them – a beef stew with more of the biscuits that had made their mouths water this morning.

"We will have words later, Mr. Younger," Billens stated. "As with you, Mr. Watts."

Watts and Younger both looked at each other as Hatch cleared a place for the food tray.

[Sgt. Howard]

WELL now, the bag's out of the cat... uh... hmmm... well, he WAS at a spay and neuter clinic, so... oh well...

does this mean if the assassin shows up again, they yell "SNAKE"?

[jwhouk]

WELL now, the bag's out of the cat... uh... hmmm... well, he WAS at a spay and neuter clinic, so... oh well...

It's not official until someone other than the author(s) say something.

Does this mean if the assassin shows up again, they yell "SNAKE"?

AUTHOR HAT: "Billens has been around long enough that he has actually had a pet Badger. It had a proclivity for eating mushrooms, but did not care much for snakes. Those two words were the first that he came up with in response to the simple password, 'Badger.'"

PERSONAL HAT: "Part of me, as a Wisconsinite, has found that meme to be annoying as hell. But it fits the bill, and let no one say we don't pander to the audience. Now, what you didn't see me post was what Oscar was really looking at when he noticed Suzie's dentition..."

[Sgt. Howard]

What Oscar was looking at was a view of 'Echo Canyon' afforded by the deep scoop of Suzie's blouse...