by Ginny Dye
The four guards who had accompanied the doctors to the boat immediately surrounded him. Matthew forced a grin and held out his hands casually for the guard to handcuff him. “I guess the game’s up, boys.” He took a deep breath. “I almost won.”
Nichols stepped up close to his face. “You’ll wish you had, Justin,” he snarled. “If you thought you were uncomfortable before, you don’t know anything. We have special treats for men who scorn our hospitality.”
The rest of the doctors were silent as Matthew was led away, but he could feel their sympathy reaching out to him. Tell the story, he pleaded silently. Tell the story.
Men were crowded at the windows as Matthew was escorted back to the prison.
“What are you staring at?” one of the guards called angrily. Seconds later shots rang out from his pistol, crashing into the walls and spitting out chips of brick. He laughed loudly.
When Matthew glanced back up, all the faces had disappeared. He took one final breath of fresh air before the darkness of the prison swallowed him again.
“Ever heard of Rat Dungeon?” one of the guards taunted.
Matthew fought to control the bile rising in his throat. His punishment for trying to escape would be confinement in the east cellar room known as Rat Dungeon. He wildly considered trying to break away and run for it but knew he would be shot instantly. The guards would be happy for any excuse to kill the man who had almost outsmarted them.
It might be better.
Matthew fought the hopelessness threatening to engulf him. For a few brief minutes, he had almost been free. It would have been better to have never experienced it, he told himself bitterly.
Don’t let them win. Choose life.
Again, Matthew considered running and making himself a target. The thought of the dark hole teeming with rats where he would only be served bread and water sickened him. He himself had passed food down to the men unfortunate enough to be confined there.
Choose life.
The persistent voice would not be ignored. Matthew cast aside the idea of running and straightened his shoulders. He was not beaten yet. They would not keep him down in Rat Dungeon forever.
Somehow he would find a way to escape.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Where to, Miss Carrie?” Spencer asked cheerfully.
Carrie took a deep breath and looked down the street. She wasn’t expecting her father, but there was a chance he would come home early. “I’d like to go out on Poplar Street,” she said firmly.
Spencer glanced back at her. “Out past the navy yards?”
“That’s right,” Carrie said calmly. “And I’d like to go now.”
Spencer stared at her for a moment then picked up his reins. “Yes, ma’am.”
Carrie settled back in the carriage and took deep breaths of the air. Fall had finally descended on Richmond. While she welcomed the refreshing coolness, she also knew winter was close at hand.
Spencer drove down Broad Street, turned left onto 18th, then turned right onto Cary Street. Carrie finally began to relax. Her father would have no reason to be in this part of town. She could imagine his anger and dismay when he found the note she had left for him. She sighed heavily. She was doing what she had to do. Janie would undoubtedly catch the brunt of her latest escapade, but her friend had agreed she was doing the right thing.
“I will deal with your father,” Janie had promised.
Carrie grimaced. She didn’t envy her. She loved her father dearly, but he was no longer the same man. Every day seemed to deepen the anger and bitterness seeking to destroy him. She tried to conjure up images of her father when he was loving and reasonable, but they grew dimmer each day. She struggled to hold on to them - to hold on to the hope he would be that man again someday when the war was over.
Suddenly she leaned forward. “You can stop here.”
Spencer looked at her in surprise. “What’s out here, Miss Carrie?”
Carrie was already swinging from the carriage. Hobbs, who was waiting for her on the side of the road in a wagon, waved.
Spencer looked from one to the other of them in confusion. “What’s goin’ on here? What you doin’ here, Hobbs?”
“I’m going out to the plantation. My father has refused to let me go so I’m afraid I’ve had to resort to other means.”
“He don’t know you going?” Spencer asked in a shocked voice.
“He will when he gets home,” Carrie assured him. “I left him a letter.”
“It ain’t safe!” Spencer protested.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Carrie exclaimed. “You sound just like my father.”
“Ain’t you heard them reports of Yankee cavalry still around the city?” Spencer persisted. “You think they’s just gonna let you roll through?” He rolled his eyes toward the sky and glared at Hobbs who just shrugged.
“Hobbs agrees with you,” Carrie said. “If that makes you feel any better. But it doesn’t matter. I’m going.”
Spencer groaned. “I done heard you use that tone of voice before. I know there ain’t no talking sense to you when you talk like that.” He gazed at Hobbs sympathetically. “You be headin’ for a heap of trouble, man.”
“All we can do is try,” Hobbs replied.
“What’s so all-fired important out there at that plantation? I don’t reckon you just got it in your head to go out for a visit.”
“Hardly,” Carrie laughed then sobered. “It’s going to be a hard winter, Spencer. Without medicine, too many people down in the black section of town will die. There is no regular medicine to be found. Any making its way through the blockade is snapped up by the medical hospitals.” She paused and looked at him pleadingly, silently begging him to understand. For some reason it was important to her. Maybe because her father had refused to even listen. “I have a basement full of herbs and plants at the plantation. It will be enough to last the winter.” She took a deep breath. “I have to do what I can to try to save as many lives as possible.”
“Even risk your own?” Spencer muttered then smiled. “You a good woman, Carrie Borden. You go on out to your plantation. I reckon I’s just pray for you every day.”
Carrie hugged him impulsively. “Thank you!” Then she sobered. “I’m sorry to pull you into the middle of this. I just couldn’t quite have Hobbs show up in the wagon. If Father had happened to be home, it would have all been over.”
Spencer nodded. “Ain’t you takin’ nothing with you?”
Hobbs reached over the seat behind him and held up two large bags. “I went and got them last night.” He also reached down and held up a rifle. “We won’t go down without a fight,” he said grimly.
“Lot of chance you stand against a bunch of Union cavalry. A man on a crutch and a woman!” he snorted.
“Who also happens to be a good shot,” Carrie reminded him, holding up her own pistol.
Spencer just shook his head. “Get on with you.” He glanced up at the sun. “At least you be travelin’ mostly at night. Maybe that’ll keep the cavalry from finding you.”
Carrie was glad when the sun sank below the horizon. They were several miles out of town and had not been challenged, but she yearned for the protective covering of night. She thought longingly of all the trails weaving through the woods that were unknown to all but locals who used them. There was no way the wagon would fit on them. The only choice was the main road, appallingly open and wide. She fingered the pistol in her waistband and wondered whether she could really use it to shoot a Union soldier. She shuddered and turned her mind to other things.
Carrie could hardly wait to get to the plantation. Fall was always one of her favorite times of the year. Trees were turning in Richmond, but she longed for the wide open spaces of the plantation, burnished by the gold, red, and yellow leaves of autumn. She tried to relax enough to enjoy the canopy of colorful trees she and Hobbs were rumbling through now but finally gave up. Every muscle in her body was strung tightly in anticipation of Federal soldiers
>
“What you thinking about over there?” Hobbs asked quietly.
Carrie knew it would do no good to talk about her fears. “I’m wondering whether Sam and Opal and the kids are still there. Wondering how many of Father’s people have stayed.” She paused. “I’ve heard so many stories of plantations being destroyed. I guess I’m mostly just hoping our home is still there.” She heard a sharp crack and snapped her head up but then relaxed as a deer bounded across the road in front of them. “I don’t know what I’ll do if I have to go home and tell Father that Cromwell Plantation has been burned. I think it would completely kill him.”
“He’s living to go back there, ain’t he?”
“I think so,” Carrie mused. “He left the plantation to bury himself in politics after Mother died, but I think he dreams of going back every day now. The war has drained him. It’s turned him old. I think he hopes the plantation will give him back some of what’s been taken.” Hobbs nodded then concentrated on his driving once more. Carrie was content to be left with her thoughts.
It was past midnight when Hobbs turned onto the narrow drive leading to the plantation. Carrie sat straight in her seat, gripped by both excitement and dread. She yearned to speed up time and be there. Another part of her wanted to slow it down - to delay the discovery of her home destroyed.
“We’re almost there,” Hobbs said cheerfully. “I reckon we outsmarted them Yankees this time.”
Carrie clasped her hands and leaned forward. A pale moon cast its milky glow over the pastures lining both sides of the road. She longed to glance over and see Granite cantering beside the fence. She smiled as she remembered how eagerly he would prance around the gate until she came to greet him. At least she knew Granite was alive and well, stabled in her father’s small barn until Robert came back from Europe. She had wanted to ride him out but knew the wagon was necessary to haul back all the bottles of herbs.
Carrie squeezed her eyes shut as the wagon approached the curve that would deliver them to the front of the house. She scolded herself for her fear but kept her eyes squeezed tightly anyhow. Suddenly she couldn’t bear the thought the house might not be waiting for her.
“You can open your eyes, Carrie,” Hobbs chuckled.
“Is it there?” she asked, keeping them shut.
“Well, if you’re talking about a beautiful white, three-story house with columns, I reckon it’s still there.”
Carrie’s eyes flew open before he finished speaking. “It’s still here!” she cried. “Please stop,” she commanded suddenly. When Hobbs obliged, she sat and just stared at it. The glow of the moon covered what were surely signs of neglect. Her father had always demanded the outside of the house be kept in sparkling condition. Three years of war had surely resulted in cracked and peeling paint, but in the mystical light of the moon, the house shimmered as if it wore a fresh coat of white. Towering oak trees stood silent guard, their limbs tossed by the breeze, swirling shadows over the house.
“It’s beautiful,” Carrie said softly, her eyes glimmering with tears of gladness. She had not admitted, even to herself, how devastated she would have been if it had been burned or destroyed. Her relief washed over her in great waves of happiness.
“Sure is dark,” Hobbs observed.
“Well, no one was expecting us,” Carrie laughed. “I was hoping we wouldn’t wake them.”
“Where you plan on us staying tonight?” Hobbs asked dubiously.
“There is an apartment above the barn. We can stay there tonight and let Sam and Opal know we’re here in the morning.” She glanced at the dark windows staring down at her. “If they’re still here. It’s been six months since I was here last. A lot could have happened.”
Suddenly she saw the front door crack open just a little, and a dark face peered out at them. She opened her mouth to call out then hesitated. What if Sam and Opal weren’t still here? She had heard of plantation houses being taken over by runaway slaves. With most of the white plantation owners gone from their homes, there was little to stop them from doing what they wanted. She fought to control her pounding heart then frowned. She hadn’t come this far to be afraid now. “Hello,” she called softly.
The door opened wider. “Who be out there?” a gruff voice demanded.
Carrie grinned. “Sam! It’s you. I was so afraid you wouldn’t still be here.”
The door flew open all the way, and a stooped figure walked out onto the porch. “That be you, Miss Carrie?”
“It’s me!” Carrie swung down from the wagon and ran over to the wide steps leading up to the porch.
“Why, I’ll be jiggered!” Sam exclaimed. “What in the world you be doing skulkin’ around at night, girl?”
Carrie turned back for a moment. “Go ahead and bring our things in, Hobbs. I don’t guess we’ll be sleeping in the barn.” Then she raced up the stairs and gave the elderly black man a big hug. “It’s so good to see you again!”
Sam chuckled and stepped back. “You all right, girl?” he asked, his voice suddenly anxious.
“I’m fine, Sam,” Carrie assured him. “We heard there are a lot of Union cavalry hanging around out here, so we thought we’d have a better chance of making it here at night.”
Sam nodded and pulled her into the foyer. “You be right about that, Miss Carrie. So far they done left this place alone. I guess we been real lucky.”
“Have they been here?” Carrie asked as she looked around. The huge chandelier gleamed softly in the lantern light. The faint tick of the grandfather clock her father had shipped back from England filled the hallway.
“Yeah, they been here,” Sam admitted, trying to hold back a yawn. “They done wanted me and Opal and the kids to go off with them. Wanted to take us to one of them contraband camps.” He shook his head. “We wouldn’t go.”
“And the others?”
“We be the only ones left,” Sam said wryly. “All the other ones took off ‘bout a month ago. Them Yankee soldiers tole ‘em that if they took off it would make it easier for the North to win this war. Said it would break their massers’ spirit and hurt the South.” He paused. “Most of the men went off to be soldiers and fight. I reckon the women be over ‘round Hampton, but I don’t really be knowin’.”
“I pretty much expected it,” she replied. “I hope they have good lives.”
“Oh, I reckon some of them will be back when this war be over,” Sam commented.
“Be back?” Carrie asked, startled. “Why would they want to come back?”
“This war ain’t gonna last forever, Carrie girl. When it ends, somebody gonna be working this land. Don’t matter much if it be the North or the South runnin’ things. They’s gonna need somebody to work it. Them that left don’t want to be slaves, but that don’t mean they wouldn’t mind working for a fair wage. This be home to some of them. All they’s ever known. Theys be back.”
Carrie listened quietly. “I hope there is something for them to come back to,” was all she said.
“I reckons time will tell,” Sam said calmly. “And me? I figures whoever ends up with this big place gonna need somebody to keep it going. I reckons I don’t want to leave my home.”
“But you worked before the war to help slaves go free,” Carrie protested. “Don’t you want to be free?”
Sam laughed. “Your daddy may have some papers saying he owns me, but it ain’t affectin’ my life none, now does it? I be livin’ my life just the way I wants to. Right now. I reckons I just waits and sees what happens when this war be over.” He shook his head. “I ain’t gettin’ any younger. I done did my part in givin’ others a chance. I figures I can live the way I wants now.”
Carrie gazed at the old man fondly. The lantern he held in his hand illuminated his wrinkled, leathery face and kind eyes. Silver hair gave him a distinguished air, and even though his shoulders were stooped, he held himself proudly. “It’s good to see you again, Sam.”
“You too,” Sam said gruffly. “Now, let’s get you and this fellow settled
in. Your room be waiting for you just like always.”
“Thank you. How about putting Hobbs in the blue room?”
Sam turned around and looked at Hobbs closely for the first time. “You done give up some of that leg fighting?”
Hobbs nodded casually. “I’d have given up a lot more if it hadn’t been for Carrie. She and one of those doctors saved it for me.”
Carrie was embarrassed by the admiration she heard in his voice. She shrugged. “It was nothing.”
Sam chuckled. “You ain’t changed much, girl. Still not wanting to take credit for all the thin’s you do.”
Carrie turned away. “I’m glad we didn’t wake Opal and the kids. I’ll look forward to seeing them in the morning.”
“They sure nuff gonna be surprised,” Sam replied, his eyes twinkling. “I’s keep them kids quiet so you can sleep in.”
“Don’t you do any such thing,” Carrie scolded. “I didn’t come out here to sleep. I can’t stay long. I want to do as much as possible.”
Sam held the lantern higher and peered at her. “Don’t look to me like you been sleeping much no matter where you are.” His voice grew stern. “If you wake up on your own, then so be it. But them kids gonna be quiet as church mouses. They ain’t gonna be the ones to add to them circles under your eyes.”
Carrie smiled and climbed the stairs, warmed by his concern, but still determined to get up early. There was so much she wanted to do while she was here. As she walked down the hall and held her lantern high, her eyes swept through the hall. There were so many memories here. So much of who she was had been crafted within these walls - and on the vastness of the plantation. She shivered in anticipation then yawned, fatigue pressing down on her.
Carrie turned the flame on the lantern higher as she entered her room. Nothing had changed. Her four poster canopy bed still occupied the place of honor, its exquisite rose bordered white coverlet glowing in the light. She stared at it sadly. The bed had been a gift from her father. She swallowed her sudden longing for what had been and glided across the room to the large mirror. Setting the lantern on her dresser, she stared deeply into the glass. Knowing the mirror’s ultimate secret - the opening it covered that led to tunnels under the plantation - did nothing to diminish the mystical allure it had held over her since childhood when she had spent hours gazing into it - and dreaming.
