THE BETTER PART OF VALOR - Morgan Mackinnon

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      Cresta then went through an abbreviated summary of the man’s life. Born March 25, 1840, Leighlinbridge, County Carlow, Ireland. Fought in the Papal Wars 1860-1861. Came to the United States in 1862 and was commissioned a Captain in the Union Army. Fought in every major campaign of the Civil War, serving on the staffs of Generals Shields, Stoneman, Buford and McClellan. Mustered out in eighteen sixty-six as a Lieutenant Colonel. Commissioned in the regular army as a cavalry Captain.

      Stacie timidly raised her hand. “We have a Lieutenant Colonel who is also a Captain?”

      “The Lieutenant Colonel was a brevet rank. That means during the Civil War, they had more chiefs than would be needed after the war was over. The regular army was much smaller, therefore, not as many high-ranking officers needed. While serving as a Captain, however, Keogh was entitled to wear the accoutrements of a Lieutenant Colonel when not on duty and to be addressed as the same. I’m not sure about the pay scale, but in one letter Keogh wrote home, he mentioned something like one hundred fifteen dollars per month compared to a trooper who earned fifteen dollars a month. As for the titles, Keogh was also in the Ordine de San Gregorio Magno, which is a knighthood from the Pope.”

      The secretary chimed in again, “But why don’t we have much time? Seems to me someone volunteers to go to eighteen something-or-other, find this Keogh, convince him to come to our time, and boom. We’re done.”

      Physicist Bob Maguire had been silent until now but shook his head.

      “We have to minimize just how much time we’re playing around with. Ideally, we give our team volunteer just enough time to convince the subject he or she is on the level and then do the transplacement. That way, we are changing a minimal amount of historic record.”

      Everyone looked at Cresta at the same time. “How long will you need?”

      “I would like about five months or so.” The others in the room gasped.

      “Five months? Cresta, we’re working here with experience of a week or so. No one has tested such distance and such time!”

      She wasn’t even sure who was speaking. Probably Bob Maguire. She felt tired. Tired to her bones. She’d known the very instant her boss had sent her the information on Mr. Keogh; it wasn’t just because she was a clinical psychologist. Anyone could have gone through the information and done up the very same slides she had prepared. She knew that this was going to be a rough sell, and now that she had an idea of the strong will of the man in the past, she was going to be the volunteer. It was going to take careful planning and finessing to get Mr. Keogh on board and make sure he was in lock step every inch of the way.

      She explained as best she could how she’d charted out the life of Myles Keogh. He took frequent leaves to go visit his family in Ireland, and she wanted to exploit that. She knew he would be going on leave to his home town in the spring of 1875, returning to his army assignment in late August of that same year.

      “I want you to set me down in New York City in early April of eighteen seventy-five, and if all goes well, we can transplace myself and our subject back sometime before September. That way, Mister Keogh goes on leave and vanishes. He never married. No one will know. There will be some articles or something perhaps, but nothing historically major will be changed. I can use that time to evaluate him and communicate with him. I have outlined a plan for your consideration.”

      Jim Sanford took up where Rick Berstem had left off as to the timing. “Why on this particular leave? Why eighteen seventy-five?”

      Her words were hollow. “Because otherwise, Myles Walter Keogh will die on June twenty-fifth, eighteen seventy-six, with Lieutenant Colonel George Custer and two-hundred sixty-six men of the Seventh Cavalry at a place called Little Bighorn.”

      Chapter 18

      After a couple of sandwiches, a bucket of coffee, and more importantly, two glasses of whiskey, Secretary of Internal Development Rick Berstem greenlit the project and requested an update on progress as soon as humanly possible. Anything the team needed to reproduce, create, steal, or appropriate would be cleared through his office if necessary. Cresta requested a private session with Vernita and Stacie and explained why.

      “Here’s the bottom line. I’m going to need some special clothes, some special manners, and…all kinds of female advice for eighteen seventy-five, and I’d prefer to work with Vernita and Stacie for the time being. If I run into problems, I’ll let you all know.”

      The women met the next morning at Cresta’s house. Not early, but as Cresta put it, a sensible time like brunch-ish. She’d produced a buffet of small cinnamon rolls, a chafing dish of scrambled eggs, and a platter of bacon. Instead of ordinary wine, the drinks of the day were mimosas concocted of champagne and orange juice. Cresta even put out the “good” china Aunt Pat left her plus cut-glass flutes.

      “Thank you both for coming. I’m thinking there are a ton of things I need to take into account here. Everything from menstruation to clothes and shoes.”

      Vernita said they should make a list of categories and then address each one individually.

      “Let’s tackle menstruation first. You aren’t going to like this. There were no pads in that time. It was a belt around your waist and then things called sanitary towels which were tied or pinned to it. Take some safety pins because that will be easier. They were invented in eighteen forty-nine so won’t pose an anachronism. When the towels are soiled, you wash them, then hang them up to dry. The first sanitary belt wasn’t invented until eighteen seventy-nine and then by a man. Figures. You don’t have to shun men during this time like the Native American Indian women did…they had special tepees for this interval because it was considered so unclean. You just avoid sexual relations and keep the towels as clean as you can. No one will know.”

      Cresta stared. “Sexual relations? Did I hear you right? Girl, I am going back to the year eighteen seventy-five to do what amounts to a psychological evaluation of a fairly barbaric man and there is nothing sexual about it!”

      Stacie looked puzzled. “Barbaric?”

      “Okay. Wrong word. Since the beginning of time, civilizations have needed the support of a military faction for protection or, in some cases, conquest. If it were not for the military, countries and ethnic groups could just be taken over by hostile elements at the drop of a dime. However, there is a difference here. Mister Keogh had already fought in the Papal wars for the Catholic Pope for two years. He could have been done with war and gone home to idyllic Ireland. He didn’t. He sold his sword to the Union Army, joining as a Captain. For three long years, he led dozens of Cavalry charges and saw hundreds if not thousands of men die. The Civil War ends, and what does he do? He doesn’t go back to idyllic Ireland. He joins the regular US Army fighting Indians. The Civil War and the Indian Wars were not his wars to fight. I suspect our man loved the thrill of the chase and the blood of the kill. That’s one thing I must find out. What motivates him and how strong it is.”

      Clothing was another issue. Cresta accepted that it was going to take a couple of seamstresses some time to produce what she needed. Everything from everyday outfits to ball gowns to underwear. This is when the conversation turned to corsets and hoops for petticoats. Vernita and Stacie agreed it might be better if the dresses could be designed to look acceptable in the time frame but also be comfortable. And as Cresta said at least three times, women were not supposed to have seventeen-inch waists regardless of what Margaret Mitchell thought. Both women had done some research, and there were amusing stories out there about women wearing hoops invited to formal parties. They went, wearing the graduated metal circles connected by ties, under their petticoats, and then discovered they had to go through doors sideways with skirts tilted, revealing quite a bit of leg. The gentlemen at the parties loved it.

      Trunks and shoes could be obtained by reenactment costumers and probably some of the clothing as well, so when the meeting finally ended, Vernita and Stacie took Cresta’s measurements and promised to get right on the project.

      The only thing Cresta had to do until her clothing and accessories were ready was to arrange for the

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