Mudsills & Mooncussers (#multimedia)

Chapter 5

Illustration:  Capt. John Geiger's house on Key West.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Having intercepted a coded message from the Rebel spy, Aaron begins his investigations in earnest. But he'll stop long enough to intercept Joe once again on the beach. Hmmm.

Enjoy the newest chapter of MUDSILLS & MOONCUSSERS.

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As Aaron approached the door of Will Curry's mercantile store, he met Lila Dauthier coming out of that establishment—on the arm of a Union officer. Aaron doffed his hat in greeting.

"Good morning, Miss Dauthier," Aaron said.

"Good morning, Mister Matthews!" Lila put her officer forward like a trophy. "May I present my friend, Lieutenant R.B. Locke, from New York. The lieutenant is the editor and publisher of Key West's newspaper, the New Era."

Aaron extended a hand, which Locke took while somehow seeming to keep his distance.

"It's a pleasure to meet a member of the fourth estate, Lieutenant Locke," said Aaron pleasantly. "I didn't realize the Army was in the journalism business now."

Locke stood straighter. "We are since the Secesh propagandists had the good sense to leave Key West," he said.

Lila gushed, "Lieutenant Locke is so knowledgeable about simply everything. I think it's so stimulating the way a journalist seems to fairly vibrate in tune with the pulse of a community."

"No doubt," said Aaron with a smile. If Lila was trying to make him jealous, her cause was hopeless. Aaron had never cared enough about a woman to be concerned when other men pursued her. Silently he wished them happy.

Locke began directing his flirtatious partner onward to other business, with a curt nod of farewell to Aaron. Lila waved prettily, and Aaron honored her with a courtly bow.

Once inside Curry's store, Aaron made his way between tables and shelves stacked with merchandise, much of it the cargo of ships wrecked in recent months on the reefs near Key West. Will Curry acknowledged Aaron with a nod but cautioned him with a sideways look at the customers in the store. Aaron saw Caroline Lowe and Mrs. Lowe as well as Josephine Marie Thibodeaux with friend (and parcel-bearer), Joseph Porter. The women were pawing through bolts of fabric—all of it the same color.

"Honestly," mewled Caroline, "I don't know why we have to keep looking. It's all the same."

Porter cautioned Joe, "That one has a water spot."

"Where?" she said, looking where he pointed. "Oh, yes. Thanks."

Caroline went on, "Wouldn't it be lovely to live in a town where nobody else had a dress exactly like yours?"

"Hush, child," said her mother. "Young ladies in Tallahassee are making their own hats out of palmetto fronds and crocheting their own shoes from scraps of baling twine. We'll take this one." She heaved a bolt of cloth from the bottom of the pile and plunked it on Curry's counter. She and Curry consummated the transaction, oblivious to the young people's further conversation.

"Tallahassee?" said Caroline. "We don't know anybody in Tallahassee. I've never even been to Florida."

"This is Florida, Caroline," said Joe, then consulted with Porter further: "I can't decide. Maybe the one with the water spot is more ... interesting."