by Ginny Dye
Robert nodded then took her into his arms. “Whatever you wish, my love.”
Carrie raised her head in wonder as he lowered his. Their lips met and melted. She was both frightened and exhilarated by the rampage of feelings in her body as she realized this night was just for them. When Robert finally raised his head, she was clinging to him, her breath coming in gasps.
Robert smiled, bent down, and easily lifted her with his strong arms. Carrie never took her eyes from his face as he carried her across the room and put her on the bed. “You’re beautiful,” he said tenderly, his eyes caressing her face as his hand began to stroke her cheek. Slowly he reached up and began to pull the pins from her hair.
Carrie’s eyes filled with tears as she felt the tightness of her bun begin to loosen.
Robert stopped immediately and let his hand drop. “Is something wrong? Am I hurting you?”
“No,” she whispered. “It’s just... I’ve dreamed of this for so long. Tried to imagine how it would be when you let my hair down. Now it’s happening.”
Robert leaned down to brush his lips on hers then resumed his actions. As he pulled the last pin out, the tightly woven braid dropped down her back. His eyes misted as he lifted her to a sitting position then gently released the braid, catching his breath as her hair sprang loose in a thick, dark cloud. Groaning slightly, he lifted it and buried his face in it, taking deep breaths.
Carrie was silent, watching him, overwhelmed by the feelings of awe and desire coursing through her body.
Finally Robert lifted his head. “You’re even more beautiful than I imagined,” he said roughly. He held her face with his hands tenderly for a long minute then reached back to unbutton her dress. “I love you, Carrie Borden.”
“And I love you, Robert Borden.” Carrie gave herself over to the wondrous sensations in her body.
The storm had come and gone, washing the world and filling it with fresh fragrances before Carrie and Robert settled back against the pillows to talk. Carrie opened her mouth to speak, but Robert put a finger to her lips. She was startled by the look of urgency and longing that sprang into his eyes.
“I have to tell you something,” Robert said quietly.
Carrie felt her heart sink, the magic of the evening taking flight and soaring from her reach. “You’re leaving.” It wasn’t a question.
“I found out this morning. I was determined not to let it spoil our day.”
“How can they call you back to the front!” Carrie cried. “You’ve already almost died in this horrible war. You’re not ready to go back to battle! How can they ask you to fight again?” She made no effort to hide the tears - nor the fear that choked her voice. To go so suddenly from enchantment to cruel reality was more than she could handle. Robert gathered her in his arms, but she pulled back. “They can’t make you go!” she cried.
“I don’t want to fight anymore, Carrie. You know that. But I don’t have a choice. General Hooker is ready to advance on Richmond with over 125,000 men. General Lee has less than half that force to meet him with. He has to have every available man he can get.” Robert’s voice was both pained and resolute.
“He doesn’t have to have you,” Carrie cried passionately even though her mind told her it wasn’t true. The war that had ignited the country was pulling every young man into its flaming path - devouring lives, hearts, and dreams with indiscriminate fury. Her heart constricted with fear. Robert had barely escaped the inferno before. Would the flames consume him this time? She had said earlier she would be content with just today and let tomorrow take care of itself. Why was tomorrow coming so quickly - snatching away the dreams and love she had tasted so briefly?
Robert said nothing, just pulled her into his arms, and held her trembling body closely. Trying to draw enough strength to conquer her fear, Carrie clung to him. Finally she drew away, taking a deep breath. When she spoke, her voice was calm. “When do you have to leave?”
“Tomorrow morning,” Robert said gravely. “Very early.” He reached up to touch her cheek, his eyes thanking her for her bravery. “Just about every man who can fight is already at the front. I ride out with a very small contingent tomorrow. We should hook up with our unit tomorrow afternoon.”
“What are the odds of this battle?” Carrie asked quietly. She knew nothing would change the dread of waiting for battle news, but any information she could get was better than being in complete darkness. She also knew that as soon as Hooker crossed the river, Richmond hospitals would once more be full to overflowing. Vivid memories of past battle results made her shiver.
Robert shrugged. “Lee has won battles no one thought he had any hope of winning. McClellan faced Richmond with the same number of men last summer, and Lee held him off - even sent him running.” He paused. “But to be honest, I hear Hooker is a different man. He has none of McClellan’s overwhelming cautiousness. I’m sure he knows just how outnumbered we are.” Then he scowled. “He just doesn’t know what he’s up against. He is commanding troops who are far from home, trying to take our city. He is facing battle veterans fighting for their homes, for their capital, and,” his voice roughened, “for their loved ones.”
“How can you stand to fight again?” Carrie asked, her heart going out to him. He had told her of the horrors of battle, of the gut-wrenching things he had seen at Antietam before he had been shot.
Robert frowned. “It makes me sick to think of going back into battle. Even when I was struggling so hard to get well so that I could come back to you, I was hoping somehow the war would end and I would never have to fight again. If it hadn’t been for you, I would have been happy staying in that little cabin in Maryland until the war was over.”
“I almost wish you had,” Carrie responded, tears once more filling her eyes. “I can’t bear the idea that I may lose you again - perhaps this time permanently.” Her voice cracked with pain.
Robert gathered her in his arms. “We have to take one day at a time. I’ve made it through other battles. I’ll make it through this one.”
“Won’t it be harder to fight when you’re no longer passionate about the war?”
“There are countless men fighting who are not passionate about the war. They are fighting because they have to. Because if they desert, they can be shot. Because unless they win the war, they will no longer have a country to call home.” He scowled. “I can no longer fight because of a desire to see slavery saved. You know I will never own another slave. The rest of it is still so complicated.” He paused. “I still have a home I’m fighting for. I still have people I love in the city that Hooker is trying to destroy. He won’t be content to just take Richmond. Just as our government will not be content to step aside and let him have it. If the capital falls, there will be a tremendous amount of destruction. I can be passionate about not letting that happen.”
“Will this horrible war never end?” Carrie asked in despair. “I feel as if you and I are like a tree trying to take root. Just when it thinks it’s going to be left alone, something pulls it up to see if it’s growing.”
“I want it to end just as much as you do. But until it does, I have to fight. I wish I had something to do with making the decisions that would bring it to an end. Even though I’m not sure I possess any more wisdom than the men leading us now.”
“I would gladly replace any of them with you,” Carrie replied fervently. “You’re not the same man you were a year ago. You see things more clearly.”
“Do I?” Robert asked thoughtfully. “I thought I saw things so clearly. Now that I’m back in the middle of the fray, it doesn’t seem so simple.”
“It will never be simple,” Carrie responded firmly. “But you have acknowledged your own humanity now. Because of that, you can accept others - including the slaves you once held in such contempt. Too few of the men running our country have recognized slaves’ humanity. Their decisions are based on pride and passion. They have ignited a war that could destroy our whole country.”
Silence fell o
n the room as the sound of her words floated away. The cold front delivered by the earlier storm gusted into the room. Carrie shivered and pulled the covers up close around her neck. Robert jumped up and padded across the room to push the window shut. As he approached the bed, his eyes met hers in the flickering lantern light. Carrie felt herself grow warm again at what she saw in his eyes. When he held out his arms, she melted into them, willing the picture of his riding away in the morning to fade from her mind.
They had today. They had tonight. They had this time to fill their hearts and minds with memories that would carry them through the dark days ahead…
CHAPTER THREE
A full moon hovered on the horizon, its milky beauty casting a strange beauty over the fury waiting just beneath the surface it gazed so benevolently upon. Its glow cast sparkles across the waters of the Rappahannock and Rapidan Rivers. Hundreds of crackling campfires lent an almost romantic ambience to what must soon be the scene of horrible carnage.
“Bring Moses to me,” Captain Jones barked.
Moses was up and moving toward his commander’s tent even before the messenger sent word. The still night air, pregnant with anticipation, carried sounds well. The earlier rain had settled the dust. He pulled his coat around him, thankful for its warmth against the suddenly cool air.
“The captain wants you, Moses.”
Moses nodded easily. “On my way.” Moments later he stood outside the flap of Captain Jones’ tent. He tapped lightly on the side of the tent, and when motioned inside, ducked to allow his massive frame entrance.
Captain Jones looked up from his papers, shoved his chair back, and propped his feet up on the makeshift table. “We cross the river tomorrow.”
“I see,” Moses replied, his voice and face calm even though his heart was racing. The time had finally come. General Hooker was ordering the long awaited assault on General Lee’s Rebel troops.
“Are your men ready?” Captain Jones asked, eying him closely.
“As ready as they will be,” Moses said confidently. “My men have wanted to fight a long time. They are eager to prove what they can do. All they need is a chance.”
“You realize how much is resting on this,” Captain Jones said sharply.
“I joined up as one of the first black spies in the Union army just to help pave the way for black soldiers,” Moses reminded his commander. He had put up with tremendous harassment and prejudice to help open the way for the tens of thousands of black soldiers who had enlisted as soon as the Emancipation Proclamation had taken effect. “I know people will be watching to see how these troops do. The men are ready,” he repeated firmly. “Most of them feel they have nothing to lose. Many of them are free blacks, wanting to help gain freedom for their race. Most are escaped slaves fighting for their freedom. There is a lot of passion in men like that. They will fight, and they will fight hard. They don’t intend to let the South win this war.”
“Good,” Captain Jones replied. Then his voice softened. “I know I can count on you, Moses.”
“Yes, sir.” Moses said nothing of the sick dread filling his heart. He would have been content to spend all his days in the army as a spy. He had seen what battle did to men. Yet when his commander had asked him to serve as a noncommissioned commander of one of the first black corps, he couldn’t refuse. He had saved Captain Jones’ life when he had been shot outside of Richmond a year earlier. In return the captain had given him enough time to locate his sister June and set her free from the plantation where she had been a slave. Moses owed him too much to refuse his request.
Captain Jones resumed studying his papers. Moses turned, knowing he had been dismissed.
“One more thing, Moses.”
Moses turned back. “Yes, sir?”
“Good luck,” the captain said with a wry smile. “We have the clear advantage here, but the last couple of years have taught me not to take too much stock in that.”
“You, too, Captain Jones,” Moses replied softly. As he walked back to his unit, he recalled the words General Hooker had spoken that evening. He had pulled all the ranks together and announced that he had maneuvered so cunningly that the enemy must either fly ingloriously or come out and submit to destruction. The confident general seemed to feel there would hardly be any battle at all - that Lee would just cut and run. From what little Moses had seen of the South’s General Lee, he didn’t think it would be quite so simple.
We’ll fight for liberty
Till de Lord shall call us home;
We’ll soon be free
Till de Lord shall call us home.
Moses stopped and listened as the song rolled across the night toward him. His men’s voices were quieter than usual tonight - they knew what was coming. There was none of the usual high-spirited singing and dancing that usually erupted around the fires every night. Some of the men were cleaning their guns and staring thoughtfully into the distance as their cloths worked up a bright polish. The glow of cigarettes filled the air like fireflies as men contemplated what was to come when the sun rose again. Fervent prayers could be heard around some of the smoldering fires as men prepared for what America had been sure would never happen - black men raising arms against white men in defense of their country.
Moses stood quietly, allowing the words of the song to work their way deep into his soul. He had chosen to fight for the liberty of his people who had toiled under cruel bondage for so long. He had chosen to fight for the freedom of those who would come after. He had chosen to fight for his unborn child. As they did several times a day, Moses’ thoughts flew to the Contraband Camp located at Fort Monroe. He would give anything to be able to lay down his gun and walk away from it all - to be with his beloved wife, Rose, when she gave birth to their child.
Moses moved over to a fallen log and sank down on it, his unseeing eyes staring into the distance. If he concentrated hard enough he could almost see Rose’s beautiful face beaming up at him when she had told him they were going to have a baby. They had only had a few days together at Christmas; then he had been called back to duty. It had eaten at his heart to leave her alone in the contraband camp. The fact that his sister, June, was now living with her was some comfort, but every particle of his heart longed to be there.
The distant call of a hoot owl pulled him back to the present. Would he live to see his baby? Would he still be alive when the dust and gun smoke settled from this battle? Moses heaved a sigh and pushed up from the log. He had made his choices. He would live or die with them. He had gone less than one hundred feet when a voice called out to him.
“That be you, Moses, suh?”
Moses walked over to the glowing campfire. “It’s me, Pompey.” He almost smiled at the look of righteous indignation on the face of the man old enough to be his father. Pompey had told him many times he had been the first in line when the federal government opened the army to blacks. The older man had escaped with his wife from a plantation in Georgia over twenty years ago, but he had never lost the burning desire to see the rest of his people free.
“There’s some o’ dese boys here a mite nervous,” Pompey said scornfully.
Moses smiled sympathetically. “Battle can be a horrible experience. There’s nothing wrong with being a little nervous. It doesn’t mean everyone won’t fight hard.”
“But we be fightin’ under de flag, sir!” Pompey snorted. “We got right on our side!”
Moses opened his mouth to tell him right didn’t always keep you from dying, but Pompey kept talkingand stood to add intensity to his words. Moses knew from experience that it was best to let the self-proclaimed orator talk; the gray-haired man often had many words of wisdom.
Pompey positioned himself so that the flames of the fire illuminated his lithe form and then pulled himself to his full height, his shadow dancing across the bushes behind him. “Our old Southren mas’rs dey had lib under de flag, dey got dere wealth under it, and ebrything beautiful for dere chillun. Under it dey hab grind us up and put us in dere p
ocket for money. But de fus’ minute dey tink dat ole flag mean freedom for us colored people, dey pull it right down, and run up de rag ob dere own.” He paused dramatically, staring hard at the men gazing up at him.
Moses watched the faces of the soldiers staring up at Pompey. He knew all of them were brave, good men. Part of him yearned to prepare them for the horrors of battle; the sick reality of thousands of men wounded and killed. At the same time, he knew mere words could never prepare them - words would do nothing but instill fear. Their baptism into the truth of war would come soon enough. He welcomed whatever words would give them courage and determination to fight.
“But we’ll neber desert de ole flag, boys,” Pompey cried, lifting a fist in defiance to the sky, his voice ringing out into the night. “Neber!” He stopped, letting his words sink in. “We done libbed under it for lots of years. We’ll die for it now!”
The cheers and applause of the watching soldiers exploded into the night. “We’ll die for the flag!” Their voices raised in unison and were soon caught up by troops in the near vicinity.
Moses listened quietly for a few moments but then moved on. How many of them were prophesying their own future?
Robert threw aside his blanket and strode to the warmth of the campfire. His gut instincts told him the waiting was over. The last three days of maneuvering and posturing were over. Today they would fight.
One of his men handed Robert a cup of coffee. Sipping it thoughtfully, he moved away to stare out over the morning mist. The events of the last few days had mystified him. Hooker had crossed the Rappahannock with his men three days ago, but not before sending about ten thousand cavalry toward Richmond. Instead of sending General Stuart and the Confederate cavalry after them, Lee had ordered them to remain on his flank, depending on Stuart to inform him of Hooker’s movements. For the last three days, Hooker had moved his men around, but there had been no attack. Had Lee’s refusal to respond predictably thrown him? What was happening in Richmond? Were there enough troops to protect the city from marauding cavalry?
