Wolfen Secrets (The Western Werewolf Legend #3) by Catherine Wolffe

steamers as well as a barge, Lieutenant. No one will allow
free travel. The cheapest fare is one hundred U. S. dollars per
person.”
    Ty’s whistle was sharp. He’d expected
inflated accommodation charges, still the factual amount proved
staggering. “The war hasn’t missed an industry, boys. Everybody’s
got their hand out it would appear. Prior to the firing on Fort
Sumter, a man paid less than five dollars to book a crossing.” He
took a long contemplative drag on his cheroot and released the
fragrant smoke slowly. “You’re sure you checked with all those
leaving before week’s end?”
    “Aye, we did,” Smitty offered. “The lads know
as well. If the street urchins catch wind of a boat setting out for
New Orleans anytime within the next seventy-two hours, they’ll get
in touch.” His Irish brogue worked the words to his liking as he
gave his ample stomach a pat. “Now, all we have to do is wait.”
    “And watch,” Ty added.
    Clemens nodded in agreement. “Yes, sir, Mr.
Taylor, count on it.”
    Ty glanced sideways at Clemens before
remembering his directive for everyone to go by an alias. “Our
lives are going to depend on it, Chester.” Winking, his halfcocked
grin spread. It took Clemens a moment to recognize Ty was talking
to him. “Waiting will be a hard pill to swallow with the vampires
able to pin us to one spot. Despite the spells Hortence used to
cover our tracks, I still smell the vermin. Shorty, we’ll come
across more of the bloodsuckers.” This time the vampires held a
trump card with the wanted poster. “We’ll have to be careful not to
draw attention our way. Did you find anyone willing to sell us
silver or weapons?”
    Smitty drew closer, lowering his voice to a
whisper. “There’s talk of a dealer. He lives ‘under the hill’.”
    Ty’s brow drew together. “Under the hill –
what’s that?”
    Smitty shook his head. “It ‘pears there’s a
sort of hole in the hill, a group of caves north of here full of
folks loyal to the cause, who’ll do just about anything to make a
dollar.” He winked as he clutched his coat lapels, before settling
against the crude wall of a fishmonger’s stall.
    “So, an encampment of southern sympathizers
resides in the caves north of town. Those tunnels will be full of
cutthroats and thieves. We’ll have to watch our step.” Dropping his
cheroot on the wooden plank, Ty ground out the fire and glanced
back to see both pairs of eyes on his. “All right, we’ve put out
the bait. We’d better get back to the others. Time will tell
whether we’ve done any good here today or not. Let’s go.”
    As they made their way back up the steep
embankment anchored with piecemeal steps, plank walkways or narrow
earthen foot holds, Ty got a whiff of the foulest of odors only one
creature possessed – there were vampires lurking nearby in the
dense undergrowth. Sheltered by the heavily tree-lined perimeter
flanking the riverbanks, they peered unrelenting at the Rebels.
“Watch you back, boys, we’ll have company by nightfall,” he
said.
    ***
    Nightfall came with all the sounds of a
bawdy, rousing city full of excitement and social activity.
Standing close to the balcony door, Ty listened to the sounds of
the night. Here in the heart of the boisterous St. Louis, the
entertainment was under way. A piano clinked out a raucous tune as
women’s laughter trilled out of the doorways of the saloons dotting
the town’s seedier side. Small, squat beams of light spotted the
dirt street as pedestrians strolled or stumbled along the board
sidewalks. Peering in or hurrying by, depending on their
inclination, they made their way at a steady clip.
    Jeb stood guard outside Briann and the boys’
room. He’d given her his word no harm would come to them as they
slept. He whittled to pass the time.
    “You got another smoke?” Ty’s question was
companionable as he stepped up beside the former Confederate major
general.
    “What’s got you up so late, Lieutenant?