The Night of the New Beginning

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The Night of the New Beginning

The following excerpt is from the private journal of Phoebe Howard. It is not widely known that for much of her youth, Miss Howard worked for the United States Secret Service. She always said that field assignments were not her forte but she took over from her superior, Colonel Richmond and ran ‘Richmond’s Girls’ for five years until her marriage. She kept a journal for many years detailing her experiences with the Secret Service. Her one request to her lawyers was that we keep the details of her rôle secret until after the death of her husband. We have done so and with the permission of her son and daughter we are pleased to publish the first excerpt from Miss Howard’s journal.

I remember Quemada. I saw West ride in, ostensibly I was one of those leaving but the boy cowering in the ruins of the wagon almost broke my heart. Quemada was my first and last assignment. After I had seen Agent West enter Wing Fat’s establishment I turned my attention to the boy. A look of despair was etched on his face and he was holding the dog as if it was his only possession. In retrospect it probably was. I knelt down beside him and touched his arm, he jumped startled and cowered away from me. “It’s all right,” I soothed, “I won’t hurt you. Where are your parents?”
Tears filled his eyes and he shook his head. I smiled as compassionately as I could, “Would you like to come with me?”
To my surprise he nodded, “My name’s John, John MacDonald.”
“Let’s get out of here,” I smiled, “You can ride my mare. I’m Sam by the way.”
“My dog?” he asked plaintively.
“Oh he can come with us,” I replied, “let’s get you on the horse and he can follow us.”
John nodded and I gave him my hand, I helped him mount Buttercup and then the three us, me, John and the dog, slipped away from Quemada.
Five minutes away there was the small but thriving town of Hawker and I managed to purchase some more clothes and another mare for John. I also booked us rooms and ordered John to get a bath. I later found out that the dog, Rascal, got in with him and had a wash too.
Eventually we sat down to dinner and after we’d been served John turned to me, “Why are you helping me?” he asked.
“Because I work for the government,” I replied, “and it would have been inhuman to leave you there.”
“You going to leave me at a foster home?” he asked.
“I was going to ask a friend of mine, Colonel Howard, if he would take you in.” I replied, “unless you’d prefer a foster home?”
He shook his head, “They wouldn’t let me keep Rascal. So, why were you in Quemada?”
“I was sent there to make enquiries and send information back, when I saw the rider entering Quemada I knew it was time to leave.”
“The man on that black horse in the royal blue suit?”
I was impressed by his powers of observation, “That’s right. He’s a Secret Service Agent called James West.”
“I drew him,” John said, and from under his shirt he pulled out a tattered pad and I looked almost in disbelief as he showed me the pictures he’d drawn. They were amazing. I smiled and said, “Then I think tomorrow before we go, I shall get you some drawing paper and pencils.”
“Thank you,” John replied wonderingly.
John left the connecting door between our rooms open that night. I wrote part of my official report that evening and just before I settled down, I went to check on my charge. He was fast asleep in bed and Rascal was curled up against his back, his tail thumped up and down when he saw me, “You look after him,” I told the dog.
The next day we saddled our mounts, John’s eyes shining as I helped him saddle and bridle the mare, “I’ve never had a horse before. Can I keep him?”
“We’ll see,” I replied. So we set off to the next town, I’d visited it a couple of times but its most useful attribute was a railway connection which meant that we could load the horses and take the train to Washington.
The next stage of our journey was very uneventful, I purchased tickets and then we changed. Me into a clean shirt and trousers. John did the same and then after seeing the horses into the stable car we boarded the train.
Father, well in my ‘Sam’ persona I always thought of him as Colonel Howard was waiting for us. He took my written report and thanked me, although I thought I could detect a twinkle in his eyes, “And who is this, Sam?” he asked looking at the young man by my side.
“This is John MacDonald, sir,” I replied, “he lost his family in Quemada. All he has is his dog. I hoped you might take care of him.”
Father tried to look stern but I could tell I’d got to him, he crouched down and said, “Young man, if you come into my home there are ground rules. Do you understand?”
To his credit John didn’t look away although he was nervous, “Yes, sir. There are some things though, Sir.”
“And they are?”
“My dog,” John replied, I could see how nervous he was so I laid my hand on his shoulder, “and I want to be able to draw.”
“I think we can do that,” Colonel Howard smiled and straightened up, “but you will keep your room tidy and you will go to school.”
To my surprise John’s face lit up and he replied smartly, “Yes, Sir!”
Colonel Howard smiled and laid a hand on John’s shoulder, “Come along, John. Let’s get you home.” As they walked away, he looked over his shoulder at me standing on the platform and mouthed the word Later.
Well Later came and went. I bathed and changed into clothes more acceptable to a young woman from a good family and entered the house, Father came to meet me and ushered me into his study.
“I’ve had some good news,” he said, “West and Gordon completed their assignment. Your information was accurate. Now we have to discuss your next assignment and the stray you brought home.”
“No more field assignments, Father,” I said slowly, shaking my head, “I’m sorry, I just don’t think I’m cut out for them.” I managed a rueful smile, “and you don’t want me bringing any more waifs home do you?”
“No, perhaps not.” He frowned at me, “Come and meet your new brother. He seems a smart lad, have you seen his drawings? Incredible for one so young, your mother is taking him shopping tomorrow and then we’ll see about schooling, but with that talent-”
There was a knock on the door and Mother entered pushing John in front of her, “Phoebe, darling,” she said, “come and meet your new brother. John, this is Phoebe.”
The young man held out his hand and I shook it gravely, he released it and then looked from my Father to my Mother, “Rascal and I can stay with you? Forever?”
“I think so, yes,” Father smiled indulgently, “But you’ll take care of your dog. He’s got to be house-trained, John.”
“Yes, Sir.” John replied, trying not to smile, he turned back to me, “Goodnight, Phoebe. Will I see you in the morning?”
“Yes, John,” I replied, “I promise.”
Father and I sat down and talked, I explained that I felt I could no longer disguise myself as a man and visit these towns to search out information for him. I suggested looking for an administrative job within his office or even a teaching post but he vetoed both of them, his suggestion was that he had a small group of young women, as skilled and intelligent as his male agents and that I could take over the running of this group. At the moment there were only three including myself but he felt sure that others would soon wish to join. ‘You must select them,’ he told me, and reluctantly I agreed.
So, here I am writing this entry in my personal journal, should I take this offer? Certainly I’d be able to relate more to any women joining this organization than any man would. At the moment it’s me, Eleanor and Colonel Richmond’s daughter, Hannah at the moment. 'Richmond’s Girls'. I suppose I could have pointed out that there are only three of us and his name for us cannot really be justified, but he says that soon there will be others. When, where and how he leaves to me. So, I end this journal entry full of hope, we may be working behind the scenes, we may never get the glory, but we will know that we helped our country and this journal will stand as my record of it.

Although Miss Howard has always been self-deprecating about her role as part of ‘Richmond’s Girls’ when she handed over the reins to her successor, there were fifteen young woman who were working in different parts of the United States, telegraphing information back to the capital. Most if not all would wait until the male agent rode into town and then quietly leave on the next stage out, their rôle complete. We, Miss Howard's lawyers, feel that it is time ‘Richmond’s Girls’ were recognised for their valuable contribution to the security and safety of the United States.