Castle Thunder, a warehouse in the Tobacco District hastily converted by the secessionists for their purposes, was located on the north side of town. After finding out from Mrs. Van Lew that Hattie was locked up there, I got what other information I could, but there wasn’t much. The proprietress of the lunch counter gleefully informed me that the place was particularly known for ruling its occupants with an iron fist. After that, every hour, I worried about how to get in to see Hattie, and every hour, I worried that I would hear she had already died.
In the end, I entered through a complete, fabricated bluff. I walked straight in the door of Castle Thunder, the black-and-white cockade affixed to my broad-brimmed hat, a soft drawl and a firm confidence my only weapons. I wouldn’t attempt a prison break, at least not on the first day. The first order of business was to find out exactly where she was. All I had to do was convince the guard that I was one of the local Daughters of the Confederacy, here to monitor prisoner health and comfort in the name of fine, kind Southern tradition.
“Our Yankee enemies may be heathens, but we are not, suh,” I said imperiously.
“Well, we only have the one woman prisoner right now,” he said. “Filthy spy.”
“She is still a lady.”
“She is still a prisoner.”
“I’ll be brief,” I said, and to my great relief, he stepped back.
As he walked me deeper into the prison, I took careful note of my surroundings, drawing a map in my head. There was the door, barred. There were the paths to exits, there was the guard station, and there was where the guard wore his keys on his right hip and his holstered gun on his left.
When he unlocked the cell, I noted the exact position, which key he used, and in which direction he turned it. He motioned for me to step inside, and I did, hesitating briefly for show. Prisons did not deter me, of course, but it would be a useful thing to remind him of my femininity. So I raised my handkerchief to my mouth and breathed delicately through its flowers.
“Much obliged, suh,” I whispered.
The bars clanged behind me, and for a moment, I thought this could be a ruse to trap me. What if he knew he had two Union spies in his cell instead of one? It was too late, in any case. I quickly turned back to the matter at hand.
Hattie Lawton sat on a cot in the corner of her cell, her feet on the floor, her elbows on her knees. She’d been taken prisoner on a particularly festive day, it appeared. Her full-skirted dress was printed with a gay pattern of pink roses with green stems and leaves, so artfully done that I could see the thorns from a distance. A pink ribbon at the front, in a bow. Despite her dishevelment, the bow had been tied to a perfect jauntiness and not allowed to unravel.
“Dear lady. I am Sarah Harrington, a good friend of Belle Boyd. I’m here to make sure you’re as comfortable as you can be, in the circumstances.”
She did not respond. She merely lifted her head long enough to take me in, and her face gave nothing away.
“Are you hurt, young lady? Are you well?”
I worried what they’d done to her. Did she not recognize me? Or was she just being careful, given the circumstances?
“Let me think on it,” Hattie said guardedly.
I reached my hands out to hold hers. “We want to do everything we can.”
The guard lingered behind me. Just reassuring myself that Hattie was still alive was only part of my purpose here. If I could, I needed to speak honestly to her, as ourselves.
“Might we have some privacy?” I asked. “I need to ask the prisoner some questions about her…female needs.”
As I’d hoped, the man winced and hastened to get out of our way. I waited until I heard the gate lock behind him, two dozen yards away, so I knew he was out of earshot.
We lowered our voices. She said it out loud first.
“Kate, I’m so sorry. They hanged him.”
“How did they know? Who gave him away?”
“Rose Greenhow,” said Hattie. “It must have been.”
I shook my head. It didn’t add up. “But if she knew about him, she’d know about me.”
“Not necessarily. She might have had her suspicions, but she couldn’t know for sure you were in it together. Many wives don’t know what their husbands do.”
“Did the third agent get arrested?”
“What third agent? It was just us two. Me and Tim.”
I wanted to ask more, to pry, to seek the truth, but there was so little left in me to fight. I couldn’t hold back any longer. “Oh, Hattie.”
“Shh,” she said.
I needed to collect myself. I knew better.
I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, then with the sleeve of my butternut homespun dress, much the worse for several days of wear. At least I had the option of changing clothes, a luxury Hattie would do without during her imprisonment. And both of us had much more important matters than fashion to concern us.
I said softly, “How can I get you out? What’s the best way?”
“Nothing. Do nothing at all.”
“How am I supposed to leave you here?”
“You can, and you will,” she said firmly.
On some level, some part of me—the remote, recessed part that was still alive—was proud of her. I had chosen her well, all those years ago, and even in these crushing circumstances, she was strong. If she survived, she might grow into a better agent than I’d ever been.
If she survived.
“Leave me here,” she said. “They’ve got no real evidence. If they’d had any, they would’ve hanged me with Tim. They don’t hesitate to hang women down here.”
“Could they be so awful?”
“What’s awful about it?” She shrugged. “Our crimes are as serious as theirs. Our punishment should be too.”
“A miserable sort of equality to hope for.”
Even in these terrible circumstances, she looked proud. “If we take the good, we also have to take the bad. We don’t get to fetch it up piecemeal.”
I wanted to hug her, but it would raise too much suspicion. I was only supposed to be asking about her needs. And the guard might be back at any moment.
“We’ll try for an exchange.”
Then I heard the clinking of keys and knew the guard would be upon us. So I raised myself and said, “It is a terrible story you tell, and I regret that your stay here will last any length of time at all. But my sisters and I will try to come from time to time for conversation and to bring you any items that a lady needs.”
“Enough now,” said the guard.