Heart of a Spy

By Donnalu Evans

Camille portrayed herself as a Southern Bell because she was going into an area that was Confederate territory however, once she'd reached her destination, she had no idea that her life would change so dramatically. She would have to commit treasonous acts, lie to the people closest to her, and choose sides while risking her life for the men she loved as well as her country. Her heart would be sacrificed for reasons of loyalty. She wasn't certain she would survive the dangers that lurked in the South.

 

Montgomery was tired of the spy game and wanted this war to end however, he wasn't prepared for the blond-haired vixen, who lied to him and was most likely a spy. She took his world by storm and left him in turmoil most of the time. His need for her made him question his judgment, which was something he never did. Though no matter what he felt for her, his loyalty and commitment to his country came first.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Donnalu Evans
• Release date: Apr 30, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224341207

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

On November 9 th , 1863, in Washington at Ford’s Theater, an actor, J. Wilkes Booth performed, The Marble Heart by Charles Selby, playing the lead character, Phidias. In attendance, President Lincoln watched from his box, and during the play, the actor seemed to look directly at the president shaking his finger while delivering a line of dialogue.

After the play in the alley among the shadows behind the theater, a clandestine meeting took place. Two individuals spoke of kidnapping or possibly murdering President Abraham Lincoln. An intoxicated man stubbed toward them in the dark alley and sat down by a trash barrel. Feeling as though they were being intruded upon the men scurried ending their meeting.

Edmond Myersville jumped into his carriage and angrily yelled for Abele, his driver, to take him home, disgusted that more wasn’t agreed upon at this gathering, knowing that when he got home his father would be enraged. But what was he supposed to do? Booth was skittish and the drunkard sent him into a panic. His father would fault him for this latest delay.

The man rose from behind the trash bin and peeled off the blanket he’d thrown over his shoulders before entering the alley. As one of Lincoln’s guards this evening he followed two men he overheard arranging a meet after the performance. They seemed secretive and suspiciously acting nervous. Once during the actor’s performance, he motioned threateningly toward the president, he knew this required further investigation.

JUNE’S SUN POURED ITS heat down on the stagecoach; it made a stop in front of the Capitol building allowing its passengers to gaze upon the complex. Montgomery, Alabama, the birthplace of the Southern states' new nation of the Confederacy. The place where Southern delegates voted Jefferson Davis in as president of the Confederacy on the Capitol's steps, only a few years ago.

This war between the Southern states and the Northern states was rigorously exacting everything from its inhabitance, but this city of Alabama seemed to prosper with a multitude of businesses, and people milling around. Camille’s anxiety was raging due to her unpreparedness for the overall size of Montgomery; she had very little to compare its’ merits to, coming from the small town of Madison, West Virginia, where she lived most of her twenty years and a state that was more Unionist than Confederates.

Cautiously Camille walked into the smallest hotel she could find; her funds were limited, and her purse contained only enough for a week of lodging and food. It was imperative to find her Aunt Katherine’s ranch, as soon as possible, or she would be without money and a place to stay.

Thanking God for arriving safely, she carried her dark blue satchel to the small room on the second floor, laying it down on the sunken feather bed. The room’s appearance was dreary; however, the space did contain the necessities such as; a bed, water basin, soap, and a towel. It would do. After all, she spent the past ten days on a stagecoach with a group of men and women who, like herself, lacked bathing for days. Having a soft place to lay down, that wasn’t moving, would be a welcome change.

Sitting down next to her bag, she reflected on her mama and papa, wishing the past few months never happened. Wishing her whole life hadn’t changed, and praying she survived what lay ahead, because no matter how unfair life would continue, whether she desired to contribute to its’ forward path or not. 

Sighing, she probed the latch on the suitcase and released it, revealing the contents. Camille methodically unpacked her clothes, hoping the wrinkles would smooth out by tomorrow; she wanted to make a good first impression when she met her aunt. It had been a long frightening trip; with any number of dangers, she knew could have happened; which made her anxious the entire journey, nevertheless, she’d done her best to reveal a brave front. Even now in the sanctuary of this hotel room, she quivered intensely remembering everything she’d been through in such a short expanse of time.

On the way to Montgomery, her eyes fell on so many unbelievable sights; the destruction, the cruel suffering, and the death that came with conflict were so extraordinarily evident. In the space of three years a great deal of this country was destroyed, not just the land and homes, but also the people and the innocence of youth. This was a terrible war, pitting brother against brother, countrymen against countrymen. While immoral men ran around with free rein to steal, murder, burn out families, and rape women. There seemed to be no end to the devastation of these, United States.

Walking to the pitcher on the dresser Camille poured the tepid liquid into the ivory bowl and raised a washrag from the counter to dip in the pool of warm water. Their last rest stop was four days ago and since then she traveled in the same clothes and was wedged tightly against others in a hot stagecoach, making her feel sticky and beyond filth. Gently, as if the washrag were fragile, she picked it up and began the necessary task of washing off the dirt and grime she’d accumulated after her long voyage. Stretching her head backward she began to rub her throat with lazy downward strokes. Unfastening her gown, allowing her fingers to work quickly undoing each peal button until the yellow flowery print dress slipped from her shoulders past her generous bosom. Feeling a bit refreshed Camille sighed. There was nothing she wanted more than a bath; nonetheless, the rag would have to do for now, because baths cost extra and she didn’t have the money for that or any comforts right now. With abandonment, she closed her eyes and rubbed the rag back and forth allowing the cloth to soak up the filth. Camille opened her eyes, with horror, flew to the window, and yanked the curtains closed with one hand while clinging to her dress front with the other. How on earth could she be so stupid? She criticized herself; this wasn’t her home in Madison, part of Boone County, in the newly formed West Virginia. This was the Confederacy’s first Capital City before it moved to Richmond, Virginia; it is home to nearly two thousand inhabitants, and numerous Confederate soldiers to add to its already abundant population. Camille had been grateful the coachmen took his passengers further into the city where they could find adequate accommodations, but now she regretted even that generosity. 

Catching her breath finally, Camille felt compelled to pull back the edge of the drapes to peer out to see if the man was still there. Hesitantly, she gazed through the small slit, and as she feared, standing across the street at the saloon was a man whose eyes were fastened on her hotel window. His slim bearded face exhibited a wryly smile. A heated blush crept up Camille’s neck as their eyes locked; it was at that instant she knew he witnessed her transgression. He winked and tipped his gray confederate hat in her direction. He’d seen her half-naked body and her peering at him through the curtains. Her face was fully crimson as she sank to the floor and began crying. All of the insecurities Camille felt in the past few weeks manifested at once. Hysterical she wept for nearly an hour, as she relived the tragic events that changed her life forever.

These life-altering circumstances began with the horrific way in which she lost her father and after that her mother. Her father was a simple storeowner and banker for their small town of Madison, who lost his prestige position at the only bank in town due to the economic downslide of this terrible war. Afterward, to realize there was more defeat with the merchandise store, passed down by his father, her grandfather, that his beloved wife handled daily for the family was barely making a profit, on what little they managed to receive in the way of suppliers in these hard times.

The family business was in debt; only a large influx of money could begin to save them from disaster, and her father knew that would never emerge. Not capable of dealing with these failures Camille's father, Jasper Van Orleans took his own life by jumping off the roof of their two-story home, plummeting to his death. That event sent her mother into a downhill spiral and it wasn’t long before she withered away. Camille felt her mother died from heartache. Her mother, Victoria Elisabeth Swanson, married Jasper Jamison Van Orleans twenty-eight years ago, she was full of life and love until the month her husband lost everything and committed suicide. It was so hard to lose one loving parent; let alone two, only months apart. They possessed such a happy family until this war came in and wrenched away all she loved. 

Camille was left to fend for herself. Looking for a job proved detrimental in the small town she grew up in, with all options exhausted and realizing she possessed one last hope, her Aunt Katherine, on her father’s side, who now tended a ranch and home by herself, due to her husband’s enlistment into the army of the Confederacy. The problem was she lived six hundred miles away in Montgomery, Alabama. The only thing she remembered about the estate was the location was outside of town, and the property was large. They employed several ranch hands along with two Negro house servants. Aunt Katherine wrote her mother once after her husband joined the war of the Northern Aggression, that she needed to hire two more farmhands just to take his place. Knowing how tight money was she knew her aunt would welcome her, at least, as support during these rough times. She would prove herself as an asset in the running of the ranch if given a chance. Unable to reach her aunt by telegraph, with what little money she possessed, Camille boarded the stage to Alabama, to plead for assistance, and a place to stay.

Camille was a silly little girl just a few months prior, she could see that now, and regretted thinking her life was meaningless when so many women went without husbands, and children without fathers. She was living in a vacuum before with no real sense of life and purpose. People were battered by this war, a war she didn’t believe in. A war most thought would end in the first month. However, three years later it was still going on with both sides battling for position to gain just one more foothold hoping to overtake the other. Now she along with this country, will forever, be changed.

Outside a tall Confederate soldier smiled to himself, and wondered about the beautiful young woman he’d seen through the hotel room window. Her hair of yellow atop her head was like a circle of light. Her striking angelic expression summoned him, and her peach-colored skin shined making his mouth water as if it were a fresh Georgia peach. Her waist was tiny as was her whole body. He would have loved to be the one smoothing that cloth across her peach color skin; taking the wet material down between the soft valleys of her bosom moments ago.  

Sergeant, a small man boomed, interrupting his thoughts.

With a grunt of frustration, he turned, Yes, Calaway, what is it?

Johnson and Melburn are at it again, Sir.

Still annoyed at the smaller man, the sergeant rolled his eyes and entered the bar. His fingers touched the butt of his Colt New Army model 1860 revolver that his father purchased for him when he enlisted into the army, another just like it was strapped to his left leg, that the army issued to him. To his right was a brown-headed barmaid sitting on the lap of one of his men stroking his hair with her long-painted fingernails. Seeing neither man mentioned by Calaway he glanced to his left, where the scene unfurled before him. Johnson was leaning over the table with Melburn’s shirt-neck clenched tightly in his hand. Melburn was holding up his hands as if surrendering to Johnson. Johnson had fifty pounds on the man in his grip and a temper, which, over the past weeks flared so many times that the sergeant, was weary, from putting out fires; and the charade he was keeping up. Taking several large steps, he laid a hand on Johnson’s arm, Calm down soldier, he said sternly.

Johnson looked at his superior for several seconds then slowly released the man. Reasoning, it would do no good to explain that Melburn was a cheat and that another fight meant that he’d be in the stockade cooling his heels. It would be up to him to settle with the scum later, and he would at the first chance. 

Saluting his superior he replied, Yes, Sir!

Games over boys, call it a night, the sergeant ordered. His men didn’t protest again. By the way, he said before turning to leave, if I find out someone cheated, and didn’t make it right, that person’s going to find out just what them Yanks think of our prisons firsthand.

Montgomery Mathew Travis was tired. He’d been on so many different missions in the past few years that he barely cared who won this war only that it ended. He’d been impersonating a Confederate Sergeant for nearly two months. Gaining knowledge for his superiors, and finally in a position to leave. That was until an undercover agent arrived in shackles. He needed to maintain his new identity as a sergeant, for the rebels, and procure the release of the agent, who was also his best friend.

The following morning after breakfast Camille sought out information on the whereabouts of her aunt’s home. She was informed the Turner’s ranch location was two streets over and to make a left on Singleton Road, this would lead her out of town. She was to follow it for approximately a mile and go right with the V in the road, next go another mile or so and she would find the ranch. The storeowner, whom the clerk at the hotel directed her to was very helpful and she thanked him before returning to the hotel. Once there she informed the clerk that she would be leaving in the morning and that most likely she wouldn’t require the room past that, though she requested that her bags be kept if she didn’t return until the following day, giving her time to retrieve them. He stated there was a fee if it was going to be more than a week and she assured him it wouldn’t be that long.

Camille began her journey to her Aunt’s around noon. She barely started on Singleton Road when she heard a sharp howl. Drawing her attention toward the noise, she watched as the scene before her developed into a nightmare.

Two very large Confederate guards took turns hitting what Camille could only assume was a prisoner. He was dressed in a torn, filthy Union uniform, his body un-bathed. His dark blue shirt ripped at the shoulder and across his lapel. His pants looked as if he’d been drug through a mud puddle, covered from top to bottom in the brown crusty solution. She’d watched in horror as they pounded the man with their fits and kicked his downed body. When they finished the soldiers yanked the beaten man to his feet.

Camille took a sharp breath, stunned by the Union soldier’s disheartened face. A tingling sensation released in her body as she felt herself go lightheaded and the gray abyss quickly enveloped her.

CHAPTER 2

Montgomery Travis saw the woman in a dark blue-checkered dress, which hugged her thin waist, approach a few minutes ago and watched as her face turned to ash, from his hiding place. Crossing the street, he seized her before she hit the ground. Her upper body was now enclosed in his strong arms. Montgomery patted the woman’s cheek several times; wondering why seeing the beating of a Union soldier made her faint. Was she that squeamish, of a woman? The idea didn’t bring out the gentleman in him it repulsed him altogether. He disliked weak women and Southern Bells were usually that and worse.

Camille felt her heart beating wildly in her chest as she allowed her soft blue eyes to flutter open and look up into rich brown eyes, she breathed her loved one’s name, Mikey!

Montgomery felt a twinge of pain when she spoke the name of another. It didn’t matter that she didn’t know him, or he her. The name was spoken with such tenderness that it pained him, for it wasn’t his name that came from her beautiful red lips, and he wasn’t the object of her affection. He hated that she was the fragile type; though he admitted that she was the most exquisite woman he’d ever seen. Her small body was weightless within his arms. Ma’am, he said softly. 

Camille looked at him dazed; it took several long seconds for her to realize that he wasn’t Mikey. His hair was the same chocolate brown, his skin the same tan color, and his eyes the same dark hue. But it wasn’t Mikey. Camille struggled to stand, pushing him away. She dusted off her skirt nervously and politely thanked him for his help.

Think nothing of it, Miss. I’m just glad I came along when I did. You were about to have a mighty nasty lump on that pretty little head of yours, he stated jovially. 

Smiling Camille scanned him for the first time, actually seeing him; a blush crept to her cheeks as she realized this was the man that was looking at her from the saloon. Thank you again, she stammered in a rush to leave, aware that he must know it was her he gazed upon half-clothed yesterday. 

Are you certain you’re, okay? What, if you don’t mind me questioning, made you faint?

The heat, Camille began to hurry away toward town.

May I assist you back to your hotel, Miss. . .? he called after her.

Turner, Camille didn’t know why she just lied, giving him her aunt's last name, but all she wanted to do was get away from him quickly.

Montgomery caught up with her in a few quick strides and modeled his steps to hers. I hope I am not being pushy, nevertheless I just want to make sure you make it back safely.

Thank you, but I’m fine now.

If you’re truly well in that case have lunch with me? He