When we open the door to her room, Mrs. Greenhow jerks her hand back from the curtain at the window and then settles back into her chair at the old table there. She is a handsome woman, her nut-brown hair parted straight down the middle and swept to the back, where it is coiled and curled.
She don’t even look at us, just starts scribbling something down like she can’t be bothered to hurry. We stand there looking around her room, which is nothing but cracked plaster walls and boards nailed across her window, like the bars outside ain’t enough. Her little girl, not more than eight or nine, sits on a pallet, slowly turning the pages of a book, watching us with a down-turned mouth.
Will clears his throat and says, ‘It’s time to go out to the yard, Mrs. Greenhow,’ but still she don’t stop what she is doing. Will looks at me, but I don’t know how else we should act either, so we just wait until she folds that paper and puts it inside a book on the table. Then she turns to her daughter, saying, ‘Rose, shall we?’ as she stands and holds out her hands, her black netting gloves stretching up to her elbows, her black widow’s dress rustling like dried cornstalks.
‘You think you ought to put out that candle?’ I ask. ‘Wouldn’t want to burn the place down, would you?’
Mrs. Greenhow gives me an eyebrow and a sharp look as she draws back the curtain, reaches through the wood slats, and blows out the candle that’s guttering there in the middle of the day. She breezes past us like royalty, keeping her face looking apart from us as we head down the hall to the stairs, like we ain’t good enough to speak to, like we are the traitors instead of her, and I can’t help but wonder what she is about, acting the spy for our benefit.
Being that she’s the only woman in the prison, Mrs. Greenhow gets time all to herself in the prisoners’ yard. Me and Will stand at the gate, watching her promenade around, her skirts sashaying after her, like it is something more grand than a tall wire fence and hard-packed dirt. Some of the boys out in the courtyard watch Mrs. Greenhow as she takes her few turns, Little Rose on her arm. When a loud catcall comes, it’s Hiram who’s got his fingers to his lips, the boys around him hooting and slapping his shoulders, Frank Morgan laughing so much he’s practically doubled over at the waist. Mrs. Greenhow, though, she don’t pay it any mind, and keeps her eyes on the street just beyond the fence. She finishes her turn before sinking onto a bench, flouncing out her skirts.
Hiram can’t leave her be, though. He saunters over to the fence right behind Mrs. Greenhow.
‘Rebel Rose,’ he calls in a singsong voice. ‘I’ve got all kinds of secrets I’ll spill, if you come upstairs with me.’
Mrs. Greenhow don’t show any sign she hears him, maybe hoping he’ll move on to some other amusement if she don’t notice him one jot. That’s what I’m hoping too, but Frank and those other boys are making eyes and snorting at his back.
‘I heard you Southern ladies ain’t so proper as y’all like to pretend,’ Hiram drawls, ‘and looks to be true, you landing here in prison and such.’
Everything about Mrs. Greenhow gets somehow thorny looking, but she still don’t move.
Hiram says, ‘I know you know what a man likes, but maybe you’d like to try on something Northern for a change?’
Mrs. Greenhow yelps, jumping to her feet. Somehow Hiram has worked his hand through the wire far enough to pinch the nape of her neck.
‘A little nibble, that’s all I’m after!’ he crows, while the boys behind him roar with laughter.
‘You leave off!’ I shout at Hiram, and I don’t care if Mrs. Greenhow is a spy or not.
‘Come on now, I’m just having fun. You ain’t a Rebel lover, are you?’
‘You ain’t to molest the prisoner!’ I walk right up to the fence, and Mrs. Greenhow scurries to where her daughter sits wide-eyed.
‘Oh, I see. You are a Rebel lover! I bet she’s giving you some sweetness on the side, is that it?’ Hiram leers at me, just like Eli.
‘What I’ve got is decency, that’s all. Didn’t your Mama teach you how to act right?’
‘My Mama ain’t here, in case you didn’t notice.’
I kick the fence where Hiram is standing. He jumps back. ‘That’s right!’ I yell. ‘You move along!’
‘You’re mighty brave on that side of the goddamn fence! Why don’t you come on over here and we’ll see if you’ve got any real fight in you.’ He spits at the ground, the boys behind him silent as he glares at me. I stay put.
‘Shit, that’s what I thought,’ he says, and turns to throw an arm around Frank, slapping his shoulder and laughing loud until he’s got all the others joining in.
When they walk away, I sink down onto the bench myself, spreading my shaking hands across my thighs.
Mrs. Greenhow lets go of her girl, pushing her back toward the hopscotch she’s drawn with a stick in the dirt. She plays there by herself, her short dress bouncing as she jumps. Will moves to where I am, bumping into my shoulder.
‘What got into you?’ he asks, still watching Mrs. Greenhow.
‘Why’s he think he can act like that?’ I ask. ‘What right has he got?’