"Lad, if there's a fight, you keep out of it," Flynn said. "I'll deal with Hazlett when the time comes. I gave you that gun for shooting Yankees, and Yankees alone. And keep that damn gun out of sight. Percy's right, the last thing we need is any more attention."
Despite Colonel Percy's orders to the contrary, Willie Forbes bought a bottle of whiskey. He, Hazlett and Cook sat near the river and drank it. If Percy caught them, he would be furious, especially after the incident between Hazlett and Flynn, but from where they sat they had a clear view up Main Street of anyone coming toward the river. In the distance, they could see Flynn on the sidewalk, talking with a young woman.
"That goddamn Flynn is plenty full of himself," Hazlett said, then took a long pull from the bottle.
"I reckon we're drinking his whiskey, by rights," Forbes said.
"Shut up, Willie," Hazlett said. "You want me to tell Percy you got a drunk on? He'll skin you alive."
Forbes snickered. He was a small man, and the whiskey was already going to his head. "He'll be madder than hell."
"Then you best shut up."
Hazlett watched Flynn cross Main Street in the distance. He hated uppity Irishmen. To him, the Irish were a threat. They came here with nothing and worked for next to nothing, taking jobs from decent Americans. And some of them were smart, oh so goddamn smart, like that bastard Flynn. He didn't know his place. Already, it was easy to see how much the colonel favored him.
Hazlett had an idea. He flipped a coin at Forbes.
"Willie, go get me another bottle of whiskey."
"If the colonel finds out— "
"You let me worry about the colonel."
Forbes scurried off, and Hazlett smiled. He had an idea that would take Flynn down a notch or two.
Chapter 9
Percy's men were waiting at dawn when the Chesapeake steamed into town.
Earlier, they had seen another train come through — just a locomotive and tender. The locomotive had slowed, but had not stopped. The station master had come out to watch it pass.
"That's the Lord Baltimore,” the man said, admiring the locomotive. He lifted a hand in greeting and the engineer waved back. "She just came out of the factory and she's on her maiden run."
"Where's the passenger train?" Percy asked.
"Should be along any minute now," the station master said, consulting a large, gold pocket watch. "She always runs right on time."
The new locomotive disappeared, and the raiders stood around in the crisp morning air. They could hear the train long before it arrived in Ellicott Mills. Finally, it came into sight, huffing clouds of smoke as it followed the bend in the Patapsco River and slowed for the station. It was a short train, only made up of the locomotive, a tender car loaded with firewood, two passenger cars, a baggage car and a fourth, private car at the rear.
"Don't look like much," Pettibone muttered.
"Sure, and that's just what the Yankees want you to think," Flynn said. "Did you think they'd have flags flapping and trumpets blowing? Lincoln is traveling in secret, don't forget."
Nearby, Hazlett hawked and spat to show what he thought of Flynn's opinions.
Percy was in no mood to listen to anyone's speculations. "Shut up and pay attention," he grumbled at his men. "It's all about to begin."
Willie Forbes moved toward the tracks for a better look. He wasn't watching where he was going and bumped right into Flynn. Briefly, he got tangled in Flynn's long coat.
"Steady, lad," Flynn said, catching a sniff of stale whiskey. "What you need is a drink."
Forbes laughed nervously and moved away.
The train, glinting in the dawn light, looked no different from the others that had passed through town the previous day. Certainly, it wasn't as fancy as the Lord Baltimore. Percy felt a nagging doubt. Was the Yankee president really on board? He couldn't help but wonder if Norris, back in his office in Richmond, hadn't made some mistake and sent them all on a perilous journey into enemy territory for no good reason.
Whatever misgivings Percy felt, he couldn't reveal any doubts in front of his men. They had come too far for that. He squared his shoulders and turned to the raiders gathered on the platform. They stood a little apart from the half dozen other passengers waiting to catch the train. Behind Percy, the train rolled closer and a ripple of wind carried the smell of grease, smoke and iron toward them.
"Remember," Percy spoke in a harsh, urgent voice. "Don't get on in a bunch. Mix yourselves in with the other passengers and use both cars."
Flynn was first in line, and he made sure Benjamin was second. The boy might be full of bravado when it came to threatening to shoot Yankees, but he was also a farm boy who didn't know the first thing about being a passenger on a train.
"Follow me, lad," Flynn said quietly. "Let the conductor punch your ticket, then we'll find a seat."
Finally, the train coasted to a stop in front of the station with a burst of steam and a squeal of brakes. Flynn practically had to pull Benjamin up the steps after him.
"Come on, lad," he said, and led the way through the car to an empty seat.
Flynn glanced around at his fellow passengers. Much to his relief, there were few young men and no Union uniforms. They would be better off without any hot-blooded heroes. Mostly the car was filled with white-haired gentlemen whose folded hands rested securely on their paunches, and matronly women who held baskets of food for the trip.
The exception was a couple across the aisle from where he and Benjamin sat. The woman was slim, dark, and pretty, and the man was dressed in flashy clothes like a gambler. The dandy's arms and broad shoulders strained against the fabric of the suit, which looked to be a size too small for him, and he had a crooked nose that had been broken at some point and badly set.
Flynn had dealt with enough riffraff in Richmond to know the fellow wasn't any businessman, and the woman wasn't any lady in the proper sense. They would bear watching, Flynn decided.
He swiveled in his seat to look around. Pettibone and Fletcher were two seats behind him, and their eyes met his, then glanced away. Cephas Wilson, the engineer, was already in conversation with a portly gentleman. Percy was the last of the raiders to board, and he appeared in the car's doorway and casually walked up the aisle, nodding to Flynn and Benjamin in the same way he nodded to everyone else on the train.
Hudson was nowhere in sight. Maryland might be part of the Union, but that didn't mean a black man could travel with the white passengers. He was riding in the baggage car. The rest of the raiders were in the other passenger car.
"This ain't what I expected," Benjamin grumbled in a low voice. "I thought there would be soldiers around, not old men and ladies. I don't want to kill none of them, even if they are Yankees."
"The longer it takes to pull a gun on this train, the better off we'll be," Flynn muttered in reply. He didn't tell the boy, but he was sure they would have a lot more than old men and ladies to worry about before the day was through.
Aside from Percy's men, only a few passengers got on at the station. Soon, the train lurched forward, and the locomotive up ahead emitted a powerful chug. The noise came faster and faster. Before long the scenery of Ellicott Mills was slipping by and cinders from the smokestack began to clink against the window glass like sleet.
Well, thought Flynn. It's begun.
The door of the car opened, and the conductor walked in. He was a bulldog of a man, of average height and stout through the middle. His blue B&O uniform was crisp and the brass buttons gleamed. It made Flynn painfully aware of his own somewhat ragged state after the headlong journey from Richmond.