Dark Chaos

by Ginny Dye

  “When you put it that way,” Carrie said slowly, “I’m not really sure I feel comfortable being your matron of honor.”

  Louisa’s eyes widened then narrowed as she saw the dancing fun in Carrie’s eyes. “Oh, be quiet! I’m nervous enough without you trying to scare me to death.”

  They were both still laughing when Carrie heard wagon wheels approaching. She turned and saw Pastor Anthony then turned back to Louisa. “You won’t be Louisa Blackwell for much longer.”

  Louisa clutched her arm suddenly. “Carrie, I have to tell you something. I’m so sorry I was so awful about you and Robert. I know I’ve said it before, but now that I’m getting married I feel even worse about it. I never loved him - I just wanted him because it was obvious how much he loved you. I was horribly jealous. Will you forgive me?”

  “You know I already have,” Carrie said gently.

  Louisa sighed. “I know.” She moaned slightly. “I’m such a wreck. Why am I so nervous? It’s not like this is a big wedding. My mother won’t even be here to criticize things.”

  Carrie’s heart swelled with compassion. Louisa’s mother had not improved. She was finally taking a little food, but she still sat staring out the window, responding to nothing and no one. Her devastating losses had completely broken her. In spite of Louisa’s words, Carrie knew her friend was greatly burdened by her mother’s condition and would have given anything if she could have been there to celebrate with her. Carrie knew there were no words to ease her pain, so she simply squeezed Louisa’s hand.

  “Thank you,” Louisa whispered, wiping at her sudden tears. Then she straightened. “I’m going in to get Perry. It doesn’t matter who is or isn’t with us today. The point is that when it’s all over we’ll be married.” Her voice became vehement. “And without a leg, he won’t have to fight again. I’m not going to lose another man I love to some Yankee bullet!”

  It was midafternoon when Carrie made her way back down the hill. Louisa and Perry’s ceremony had been simple but beautiful, their love for each other obvious. They planned to return to Perry’s farm in Georgia when he was well enough to travel. As long as the war didn’t follow him, it was over for the young man who had sacrificed so much for his country.

  Carrie’s thoughts flew to Robert as she walked. Her thoughts were already with him constantly, but the wedding had accentuated them. The beauty of the wedding day both comforted and taunted her. Carrie and Robert’s time together had been so short... She shook her head, knowing things would be no different until the war was over.

  Janie was waiting for her on the porch when she reached the house. Carrie tensed, knowing by the look on Janie’s face that something was wrong. Visions of a relaxing afternoon fled. Carrie sighed and steeled herself. “What is it?” she asked quietly.

  “Your father came home a few minutes ago,” Janie said hesitantly. “He seems very upset.”

  Carrie nodded then climbed the steps. “Thank you.”

  “Carrie...,” Janie reached out a hand. “What can I do to help? Your father...”

  “…has changed,” Carrie finished for her woodenly. “I know. I wrack my brain every night for some way to help him. Some way to give him hope.”

  “He has to find that within himself,” Janie replied softly, gripping Carrie’s hand tightly.

  “I know,” Carrie said helplessly. “In the meantime, I have to watch the man who has meant everything to me since childhood self-destruct.” She shook her head then reached for the door knob. She found Thomas pacing in the parlor.

  He turned to her as soon as she opened the door. “Will the calamities in our nation never cease?”

  Hoping to catch some of the breeze kicking up, Carrie moved over to sit down in the blue chair next to the window. She had learned from experience that it did no good to try to respond to her father. She didn’t know the right words to say, and he had no interest in hearing them anyway. He seemed only to want to vent the raging anger growing in him daily.

  Thomas turned and stalked across the room again. “You know that the Federals have occupied Chattanooga, eastern Tennessee, and Cumberland Gap?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “They have succeeded in cutting Richmond’s main rail link with the West.” He shook his head bitterly. “We have lost the Mississippi - now this.”

  He slammed his fist against the mantle and whirled toward her. “Davis detached Longstreet and 12,000 men from Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia. He sent them to reinforce Bragg to try to save what he can. Because they had to take a round-about route through the Carolinas due to the loss of the railroad, they missed it!” He scowled ferociously. “They missed it!”

  Carrie was confused. “They missed what?”

  “The battle - or at least they missed the part where they could have done some good and made a difference,” Thomas snorted. “Some of them never even made it there.” He paused. “For once our General Bragg decided to fight instead of retreat. If you want to call it that,” he said scornfully. “From all the reports we have received, the battle at Chickamauga was more like mad guerilla warfare on a vast scale. Each army seems to have bushwhacked the other. It seems all the science and the art of war went for nothing.”

  Carrie decided not to comment that she saw no art in war. It would do nothing but add to her father’s agitation.

  “Bragg did at least succeed in pushing the Federal army back. I’m sure the official reports will say it was a solid Confederate victory,” he said scornfully.

  “It wasn’t?” Carrie hated having to be so cautious with her father.

  “Of course, it wasn’t!” he snapped. “Bragg fought to the limit of his army’s capacity for two days for the singular purpose of driving the Federals away from Chattanooga in an effort to regain our railroad. All he did was drive them right into it. Our general has won a victory he can’t use.”

  He resumed his pacing. “Not only that, but he didn’t finish the job. The battle at Chickamauga should have been nothing but an opening for him to finish off Rosecran’s army. Once again he failed to finish what he started. From what we can tell, this was the most complete victory of the war, yet the Federals still have their army.” Thomas’ voice grew increasingly bitter. “And we have lost 18,000 more men,” he growled.

  Carrie whitened. How long could the South tolerate such horrible losses of life? How long would they continue to send their young men to death and mutilation? Surely they must run out of available manpower sometime. Would there be any young men in the South when the war ended? Would there be any to help rebuild the country?

  Thomas continued to pace restlessly. “I fear it was our last chance. Bragg had one of the Union’s strongest forces right where he wanted them, and he let them get away. We will probably never again have such a chance.”

  The bitterness and anguish in his voice tore at Carrie’s heart.

  Thomas whirled around to stare at her. “I fear the Confederacy is close to breathing its last breath.” He took several deep breaths before he stalked from the room.

  Carrie gazed after him and once more felt the sick helplessness she experienced in every recent encounter with her father. She could hardly believe this was the same calm, reasonable man who had taught her to think clearly. She had been so relieved when he had started to work with the government, had been so glad to see the spark return to his eyes after her mother had died. Now his very involvement was sapping the very life from him - was turning him into a bitter, old man before her eyes.

  “Carrie?”

  Carrie looked up slowly. “Come in.”

  Janie eased in and knelt beside her as she took Carrie’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

  “You heard?”

  “Through the window.”

  Carrie fought the tears. “He’s helped me so many times when I was so confused. Why can’t I help him?” she cried.

  “There will be a time when he’s ready,” Janie said gently. “Until then, there is nothing you can do.”

  “Except watch him self-de
struct? Watch him become someone I don’t even recognize?” Janie squeezed her hand but didn’t respond.

  Carrie took a deep breath and changed the subject. “I’m going out to the plantation.”

  “When?” Janie asked, clearly surprised.

  “I don’t know yet,” Carrie admitted. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. Everyone I talk to says we’re going to be in for another hard winter. I keep thinking about all the herbs I have stored in the basement out there. We’re going to need them this winter. Chimborazo is building up a fairly good supply of alternative medicines to see them through, but the black hospital simply doesn’t have enough to make it. If we have the kind of winter we did last year, too many will die.” She took a deep breath. “I have to do what I can to prevent it.”

  “But what about all the Union cavalry around the city? Surely it’s not safe to go out there,” Janie protested.

  Carrie shrugged. “I’ll take Hobbs with me.”

  “How much can he do against a unit of cavalry?” Janie asked skeptically.

  “Surely you agree I need to go.”

  Janie hesitated. Finally she nodded. “Will you tell your father?”

  “Tell your father what?”

  Carrie jumped as Thomas walked back into the room. Her mind raced as she tried to figure out how to answer him. Gone were the times when they could reasonably discuss her radical ideas. She was quite sure how he would respond to this.

  “Tell your father what?” he repeated.

  “I’m going out to the plantation after the herbs,” Carrie said calmly.

  “And just when do you propose to do this?” he asked, his voice too calm, his eyes flashing.

  Carrie shrugged. “I haven’t decided yet.”

  “I forbid it,” her father boomed suddenly. “I forbid you to go out there. It is a foolish idea.”

  Carrie looked at him for a long moment, then stood, and walked from the room.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Rose shifted her baby, John, to her other hip and continued stirring the pot of grits simmering over the fire while she sang to him softly. He cooed and gurgled, smiling up at her in delight.

  “John looks just like his daddy,” June said, steadying little Simon as he tottered across the room.

  Rose gazed down at him lovingly. “He will be as big as his daddy,” she complained playfully. “He already weighs more than any baby I ever knew at four months.” John laughed, bouncing up and down in her arms to signal his approval. “Whoa, little man. You’ll bounce right into the pot of grits.”

  John just laughed louder, waving his arms and kicking his feet.

  Rose finally gave up. “You finish the grits, June. He’s going to end up in them sure enough. I’ll watch Simon.” Settling down on the chair next to the window, she put John down on his blanket. Seconds later he was rolling around gleefully.

  June began to stir the grits and watched him thoughtfully. “He’s going to be walking long before Simon did.”

  “I hope I’m not supposed to be impressed by that,” Rose groaned. “I see how much trouble you have keeping up with your active son. It’s hard enough to try to keep John quiet while I’m teaching now.”

  “You know Mammy Sadie said she would watch him.”

  “I know.” Rose continued to watch John. He was her constant delight. She cherished every moment she spent with him. And June was right. He was already the spitting image of Moses. Just having him close made the ache of missing her husband a little more bearable. She hated the idea of being away from John when she taught, but she knew the day was coming.

  “I wish their daddies could see these little boys,” Rose said wistfully.

  “Yes. Well, it looks like it won’t be happening anytime soon,” June said briskly. “We just got to keep on living.”

  Rose looked at her sister-in-law sympathetically. Whenever June got that brisk, no-nonsense tone in her voice, it meant she was battling loneliness for her husband Simon, who she hadn’t seen in over two years. “It’s going to end someday,” she said softly.

  “I keep telling myself that,” June sighed. “It’s just that some days my heart is able to listen better than others.” She turned and stared at her son, then turned back to the fire. “I reckon these grits are done. I’ve got to get a move on. I have a lot of washing to do over at the fort today.”

  “You’re going to eat!” Rose protested.

  June shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”

  “You sit down and eat right now! You’re working too hard, and you’re not eating enough. I’ve been quiet long enough.” John and Simon looked up in surprise at the stern tone in her voice.

  “Eating just seems to take more energy than I have,” June admitted.

  “You won’t have any energy if you don’t eat,” Rose said firmly. “Winter is coming soon enough. We’ll be forced to cut back what we eat then. You’ve got take care of yourself now.”

  “Yeah,” June said heavily as she dished up a large bowl of the steaming, white grits and settled down at the table.

  Rose watched her for a long moment. “You’re hiding something from me,” she said suddenly. “What is it?”

  June stared down at her bowl. “You’re crazy.”

  Now Rose knew she was right. She set her own bowl aside. “What is it? You know you’ll have to tell me eventually.” She scowled. “Is someone mistreating you over there?”

  “Of course not,” June said instantly. “I wouldn’t be putting up with how some of those soldiers treat our women. The soldiers I wash for are real nice.”

  “Then what is it?” Rose persisted, alarm bells ringing in her head as she saw fear tighten June’s soft face.

  “I didn’t want to tell you,” June sighed. “Sometimes I hate that you always be knowing what I’m thinking.”

  Rose made no effort to correct June’s English. She just reached forward and took June’s hand.

  June looked up finally. “You know that bunch of fugitive slaves that showed up a week or so ago? The ones from North Carolina?”

  Rose was silent for a moment. There were so many contrabands flowing into the camp now that it was hard to keep track. Finally she nodded. “There were about twenty men. They were coming to make sure the camps were safe; then they were going back for their families. I remember.”

  “They’re gone,” June said simply.

  “They’ve gone back for their families? That’s good,” Rose replied, wondering what it was about this that was bothering June. “It will be good to get them back before it starts to get cold.”

  June shook her head, her eyes dark with anger. “They didn’t go back to North Carolina.”

  Rose fought her impatience. “Where are they?” she asked calmly.

  “They done been sent up north,” June said bitterly. “They’ve been sold.”

  “Whatever are you talking about?” Rose exclaimed, her heart beginning to pound. “What do you mean they’ve been sold?”

  “Just what I said,” June said bitterly. “Some of these soldiers here ain’t any better than Southern slave owners.”

  “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?” Rose commanded, struggling to breathe evenly.

  June seemed glad to get it off her chest. “Them twenty men were given a place at the fort,” she said. “I reckon them Union soldiers knew what they were going to do with them all along. A few days ago they loaded them on a boat and shipped them off.” She paused. “The men didn’t seem real happy, but I guess they knew it wouldn’t do no good to fight.” She smiled briefly at Simon who had tottered over and lifted him onto her lap.

  “Yesterday,” she continued, “I heard some of the soldiers talking. I don’t guess they knew I was close enough to hear or maybe they figured that since all I do is wash clothes that I was too stupid to understand.” Her voice was more matter-of-fact than bitter. “They done sold those men as draft substitutes for rich white boys up north who don’t want to fight.”

  Rose leaned
forward in disbelief, shaking her head.

  “It’s true,” June insisted. “I heard them say it myself. They are getting $500 to $1000 dollars for each of those men. Once they get north, then they get put into the army in place of those white boys who get drafted. I reckon the soldiers are making a lot of money.”

  Rose stared at her. “I can’t believe General Butler is letting that happen.”

  “Oh, he doesn’t know,” June replied. “They are smuggling those men up north - hiding them away in those big boats.”

  Rose pushed herself away from the table angrily. “Well, I will certainly have a talk with the general.” She turned to June. “I can’t believe you were trying to keep this from me. Why?”

  “Because you ain’t got no sense,” June said flatly. “Those soldiers will be real angry if someone stops their moneymaking scheme. I know most of the Union soldiers are gentlemen, but there be some that aren’t. You know what kind of things they will do to someone who gets in their way. Especially if that someone be a woman.” Her voice rose fearfully. “I don’t want nothing to happen to you.”

  Little John stopped his rolling on the blanket and looked up in alarm. Moments later his wails filled the cabin. Rose scooped him up, cuddling him close. Soon his crying stopped. “You can’t really expect that I would do nothing,” Rose said in disbelief.

  “You can’t get those men back,” June said stubbornly.

  “But I can perhaps stop it from happening to someone else,” Rose snapped. “Those men came here thinking they would have a safe place when they escaped from their masters. They found no better than what they had run from.”

  “They were probably going to join up with the army anyhow,” June said desperately.

  “Listen to yourself,” Rose said in exasperation, trying to find patience in the obvious light of June’s fear.

  “I know what you’re gonna say,” June sighed. “You’re going to tell me someone has to stand up for change, or things will always remain the same.”

  “It’s true.”

  “I know,” June said heavily. “It just seems like you’re always the one to do the standing. I get so scared for you sometimes.” She shivered. “Those soldiers are mean men. They wouldn’t think twice about stopping some nigger woman who got in their way.”