“But isn’t it hard … on the patients, I mean? It’s colder in here than it is outside!”

“No, ma’am, it only feels that way. And as you can see”—he cocked a thumb at the newly opened doors—“the patients are all tucked away. There aren’t any fans in the wards—just ductwork and ventilation to draw the bad air, so we can shoot it out the windows. The furnaces will kick on in a minute, and the whole place will come up toasty, quick as can be. Now, what can I do for you, Miss…?” he tried uncertainly.

“Boyd,” she supplied. She sniffled, and her nose stung. “Miss Boyd. And if you could direct me to Captain Sally, I would dearly appreciate it. Is she in? And might I have a word with her?”

The greeter’s demeanor shifted very slightly. His remaining eye darkened, and he sized her up again. “Could I ask what business you have with the captain?”

She reached into her bag, pulled out the paperwork Mr. Pinkerton had arranged from Chicago, and offered it to him. “I’m with the Red Cross,” she said. She hadn’t expected to need a more in-depth story than this, perhaps with the addition of “I’m a nurse,” but she didn’t say that. Her instincts suggested another direction, so she ran with them. “I want to speak with her about what happened when she testified before Congress. We want to hear what she tried to say. What she wasn’t allowed to say.”

Now the man relaxed, even brightened. “Well, thank God!” he exclaimed. “Come on, now. I’ll bring you up to her office. I’d offer to take your coat, but I expect you still want it.”

As if on cue, the diesel generator rumbled to life once more—but this time it wasn’t for the fans. A lower sound, coming from deeper in the basement, suggested that the circuit had now been shifted to serve the heating system. “Yes, thank you. I’d prefer to wear it, if that’s all the same to you.”

Through one of the sickrooms he led her, past men who slept, men who groaned, men who stared at the wall. They were all tucked in beneath quilts. A good idea, Maria thought, since it seemed they couldn’t work both the fans and the furnace at the same time.

He took her through a corridor, around a bend, and up a set of stairs. At the top of the stairs they were stopped by a man who was larger still than her guide. He did not look injured, so perhaps he wasn’t one of the retained men, too badly wounded to return to the war. In fact, he looked physically fit, and prepared to hit somebody.

He asked her companion, “Who’s this?”

“Red Cross woman. Wants a word with the captain about the wheezers,” he said, unable to keep a note of excitement out of the explanation.

“Red Cross? Do you have the papers to prove it? Miss Barton and Captain Sally are friendly, you know. They have more in common than in difference, never mind the lines. I didn’t hear word that she’d sent anyone … and I wonder why she didn’t come herself. The captain’s been trying to reach her for weeks.”

“Of course I have papers,” she said, and handed them over, hoping they were good.

The man at the top of the stairs perused them, his frown never melting. Finally he said, “Fine. I’ll take you to see my sister. Thanks for bringing her up, Richard.”

Richard took the hint, bowed, and left Maria there.

“Your … your sister?” she asked her new escort.

“Sister-in-law, if you like that better.” He put one arm behind her shoulders, not quite touching her, but urging her forward. “And I hope you don’t mind, but I’ll be coming with you, to have whatever word it is you want.”

“There have been threats?” Maria surmised. “Problems, in the wake of what occurred in Congress?”

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. When she glanced at his chest, she saw the large six-shooter he kept tucked in a holster—it peeked out from the underside of his jacket, and she had an idea that he probably had a matching weapon under the other arm, too.

“This way,” was all he said. He knocked on a closed door. It was a calculated knock, two strikes with a pause, and then a third.

A muffled voice called from inside. “Adam?” It was a cautious voice, but not a frightened one.

“There’s a woman from the Red Cross here to see you,” he said through the door. “Her papers look good, but it’s not Miss Barton. Shall I bring her in?”

Ten seconds later, a bolt slid back and the office door opened wide to reveal a slim, smallish woman with tidy, sensible hair and a crisp brown dress. Her eyes were large and intelligent, and they scanned Maria coolly, with interest, and then … with recognition.

Maria swallowed. “Captain Sally,” she began, but the captain cut her off.

“Adam,” she said, her eyes never leaving Maria. “Thank you for bringing this woman to my office. I know you intend to stay for the sake of security … but I think we can have this particular chat without you.”

“You and I agreed,” he said firmly. “I’m not leaving you alone with anyone who’s not on the list.”

“I’m adding her to the list. I know her business here, and everything will be fine. But I thank you for your vigilance, and I would ask that you remain nearby, if that’s all right.”

He bobbed his head, still not pleased, but prepared to defer. He withdrew, and Sally stepped aside to let Maria join her. “Please, come inside,” she said … and when her brother-in-law was gone, she added, “Belle.”

Maria held her head up and did not cringe as she entered the office and the other woman closed the door.

“Won’t you have a seat?”

Maria did. She resisted the urge to pat at her tousled hair—not because she cared, but because she wasn’t sure what to do with her hands. Instead, she put them in her lap and folded them. “Thank you for taking the time to speak with me,” she tried as an opener. When in doubt, lead with manners.

Sally Louisa Tompkins shook her head. She said, “Skip the formalities, dear. I know who you are, and I want to know what you really want.”

“That’s an abrupt way to begin a conversation.”

“I could’ve begun it with a lie, as you began your visit. Richard and Adam believed you, I expect. Both of them good men, but easily distracted, in their way. They expect a different kind of treachery from women, and aren’t on guard against the worst of it.”

“Very well, but if you value a woman’s treachery so highly, then why did you let me in?”

She smiled. A proper smile, one backed up by a laugh that she wouldn’t release. “As I said, I know who you are. Or I know who you were.”

Maria wanted to ask what she meant by that, but it wasn’t necessary, much as it annoyed her. “I’m not here as a Yankee. Not as a Confederate. I’m here as a human being, in pursuit of the truth.”

“If that’s what you want to tell yourself.”

“Right now the continent has bigger problems than Northern and Southern ones, wouldn’t you say? Or, more to the point—isn’t that what you tried to say? At the congressional session. When you were so ungraciously silenced.”

Sally cocked her head to the right. “Word made it over the line? All the way to … where are the Pinkertons headquartered these days, Chicago?”

“Chicago,” Maria confirmed. “And yes—word went fast, and went far, though that’s not where I first heard of it.”

Sally leaned back in her chair and tapped her fingers on the armrests. “How embarrassing,” she mused. “Not my most dignified moment.”

“You weren’t the one doing anything undignified. Did they really drag you off the floor, rather than hear you speak?”

“Oh, yes.” She shook her head at the memory. “And afterward, everyone pretended that I didn’t exist. It was as if I’d died and had a funeral, and no one had told me. Old contacts, old friends. Old colleagues … people I’d worked with for years. They behave as if they’ve never known me, except for Clara. She responded to a telegram on Monday, saying she’d heard about the hullabaloo and wanted to talk. When they said I had a caller, I thought it might be her messenger—I know she’s as busy as I am, these days. But then I saw you.”