half-coquettish, half-skeptical—a smile learned from her mother, who was rarely denied by men of any kind—“now you’re appealing to my vanity.”
“Is it working?”
“Quite frankly, yes, it is. I’m flattered and I’m intrigued, and there’s no denying it. But I need to know what I’m getting into.”
“I’m sure you’ve guessed this much,” Lincoln said. “The key to this war is control of the Mississippi, from Illinois to the Gulf of Mexico, together with that river’s several tributaries. And the key to the Mississippi is New Orleans. It’s the biggest city and port in the South, site of manufacturers and possessing a population base from which the enemy can raise tens of thousands of troops. The very sinews of war pass through New Orleans.”
He delivered all of this with the same broad frontier accent with which he had been speaking earlier, but something had changed in his tone. She could sense the keen mind that had led a country lawyer on a path to the presidency of the United States. He was holding the map of the South in his mind and probing at her weaknesses, looking for a way to strangle the rebellion.
Pinkerton and Gray listened raptly to the president’s thoughts. The younger man rested his hand on Josephine’s banknotes and let his thumb run along the edge of the money like a riverboat gambler playing with a deck of cards.
“New Orleans is a snapping turtle buried in the mud,” Lincoln continued, “protected by a shell of forts both upstream and down and all the gunboats the enemy can muster. Taking the city is key to shearing off the western states of the rebellion, but right now that is impossible. And that is why we need you in New Orleans.
“Once there, you will be given specific tasks suitable to your impressive range of skills. Your duties will be among the most important of the war. When you have done your work, New Orleans will return to the Union, and enemy hopes will collapse. God willing, this terrible conflict will come to a swift end. You will play a key role in this heroic endeavor.”
Throughout this little speech, Josephine felt her ego swelling, and though she recognized that this was the president’s intent, that didn’t make her immune to its effects. Lincoln had mixed flattery with an appeal to her sense of adventure and glory. Nothing he had given her was useful information—had she been a Confederate spy, Richmond would have reacted to it with a dismissive shrug. Of course New Orleans was critical. Everyone knew that, but she still felt like she was privy to secret war knowledge by hearing it from the mouth of Abraham Lincoln himself.
“Now,” Lincoln said, rising to his feet, which spurred the other three to rise as well. “I have a long night of work ahead of me. I feel like a sailor with a leaky boat, running about, slapping pitch on the timbers to keep it from taking on more water. So I will leave the three of you to your planning.”
“But I still don’t know what you want me to do,” Josephine protested.
“I am sowing many seeds, and I hope that with time some of them will bear fruit. That is all I can say at the moment. For now, I leave this matter in the capable hands of Mr. Pinkerton and Mr. Gray. And you, too, exercising what energy and ingenuity you can bring to bear. Best wishes in New Orleans, Miss Breaux. Now you will excuse me, I am hard pressed.”
Lincoln made for the door, but Josephine sputtered as he walked past her. “I haven’t even said I would go.”
“That is true,” Lincoln said when he reached the door. “There’s nothing we can do to force you. But for the sake of your country, I hope you will.”
Josephine looked from the president to the two agents. Pinkerton tucked his pipe into his breast pocket and raised his eyebrows in an implied question.
“Well?” Gray said.
Josephine hesitated. She could almost smell New Orleans, the thick, almost tropical scent, smell the river as it cut its wide, inexorable
“Is it working?”
“Quite frankly, yes, it is. I’m flattered and I’m intrigued, and there’s no denying it. But I need to know what I’m getting into.”
“I’m sure you’ve guessed this much,” Lincoln said. “The key to this war is control of the Mississippi, from Illinois to the Gulf of Mexico, together with that river’s several tributaries. And the key to the Mississippi is New Orleans. It’s the biggest city and port in the South, site of manufacturers and possessing a population base from which the enemy can raise tens of thousands of troops. The very sinews of war pass through New Orleans.”
He delivered all of this with the same broad frontier accent with which he had been speaking earlier, but something had changed in his tone. She could sense the keen mind that had led a country lawyer on a path to the presidency of the United States. He was holding the map of the South in his mind and probing at her weaknesses, looking for a way to strangle the rebellion.
Pinkerton and Gray listened raptly to the president’s thoughts. The younger man rested his hand on Josephine’s banknotes and let his thumb run along the edge of the money like a riverboat gambler playing with a deck of cards.
“New Orleans is a snapping turtle buried in the mud,” Lincoln continued, “protected by a shell of forts both upstream and down and all the gunboats the enemy can muster. Taking the city is key to shearing off the western states of the rebellion, but right now that is impossible. And that is why we need you in New Orleans.
“Once there, you will be given specific tasks suitable to your impressive range of skills. Your duties will be among the most important of the war. When you have done your work, New Orleans will return to the Union, and enemy hopes will collapse. God willing, this terrible conflict will come to a swift end. You will play a key role in this heroic endeavor.”
Throughout this little speech, Josephine felt her ego swelling, and though she recognized that this was the president’s intent, that didn’t make her immune to its effects. Lincoln had mixed flattery with an appeal to her sense of adventure and glory. Nothing he had given her was useful information—had she been a Confederate spy, Richmond would have reacted to it with a dismissive shrug. Of course New Orleans was critical. Everyone knew that, but she still felt like she was privy to secret war knowledge by hearing it from the mouth of Abraham Lincoln himself.
“Now,” Lincoln said, rising to his feet, which spurred the other three to rise as well. “I have a long night of work ahead of me. I feel like a sailor with a leaky boat, running about, slapping pitch on the timbers to keep it from taking on more water. So I will leave the three of you to your planning.”
“But I still don’t know what you want me to do,” Josephine protested.
“I am sowing many seeds, and I hope that with time some of them will bear fruit. That is all I can say at the moment. For now, I leave this matter in the capable hands of Mr. Pinkerton and Mr. Gray. And you, too, exercising what energy and ingenuity you can bring to bear. Best wishes in New Orleans, Miss Breaux. Now you will excuse me, I am hard pressed.”
Lincoln made for the door, but Josephine sputtered as he walked past her. “I haven’t even said I would go.”
“That is true,” Lincoln said when he reached the door. “There’s nothing we can do to force you. But for the sake of your country, I hope you will.”
Josephine looked from the president to the two agents. Pinkerton tucked his pipe into his breast pocket and raised his eyebrows in an implied question.
“Well?” Gray said.
Josephine hesitated. She could almost smell New Orleans, the thick, almost tropical scent, smell the river as it cut its wide, inexorable
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