by Ginny Dye
Moses leaned forward again, a broad smile on his face. “I found Robert on the battlefield after Antietam. He was shot up pretty bad. I didn’t figure there was any way he could make it. I was going to take him behind Confederate lines but then decided to take him to some new friends I’d made that day.” He paused, remembering. “I was sure I was crazy at the time. I think Polly and Gabe thought so, too.”
“The folks who took him in.” Sam nodded. “That’s what Carrie called them. Them and Robert got real close.”
Moses stared at him dubiously. “Robert got real close to some black people?”
Sam grinned. “That boy Robert done a lot of changin’. The good Lord answered our prayers just like we asks him to. Carrie say Robert done come home a new man.”
“And Granite? I found him on the battlefield near Robert. He didn’t look so good.”
“Granite is in a stall behind Marse Cromwell’s house right now,” Opal chirped happily.
Moses shook his head disbelievingly and sat back. “I’ll be quiet. You just fill me in on everything.”
Sam opened his mouth to speak then jerked his head around as the sound of shattering glass filtered into the kitchen.
“Jesus, help us!” Opal screamed.
Moses leaped up then dashed in the direction of the sound. He ran into the parlor, just barely catching a glimpse of Saul’s face at the window before it ducked from sight. Seconds later another large stone came hurtling through another pane of the window. Moses spun to run from the room when a heavy thud grabbed his attention. He whirled around just in time to see a flaming pine knot hurl through the broken glass, landing on the carpet just inches from a chair. Springing forward, Moses grabbed it and threw it in the fireplace.
He turned again, almost running into Opal. “You stay here,” he said quickly. “Toss whatever he sends in into the fireplace. I’ll get him.”
“Who is that crazy man?” Opal asked.
“Tell you later,” Moses snapped, sprinting from the room.
Sam made it to the front door before he did. Before Moses could open his mouth to yell a warning, Sam flung open the front door angrily and stepped out.
Moses groaned as the report of a gun split the quiet air. He saw Sam slump to the porch. He grabbed his pistol from his belt and edged forward cautiously. Somehow Saul had managed to get a firearm. It would help nothing for him to run out and get shot himself. Somehow Moses had to bring things back under control.
Moses approached the front door cautiously. A wild laugh rose into the air just as another bullet slammed into the door frame inches from Sam’s head. Loud shouts sounded in the distance. Moses knew his men had heard the shots and were on their way to the house, but he couldn’t wait for them. Sam could be dead by then.
He started forward once more. Seconds later he heard the sound of more breaking glass. Taking a deep breath, Moses leaped over Sam and fired his gun before he even hit the porch. Immediately Saul whirled around from his newest attack on the house, his face twisted and crazed. The firing of the gun seemed to have thrown him off guard, but he recovered quickly. Sneering with hatred, Saul whipped his gun around.
Moses fired twice and then threw his body across Sam’s to protect the old man. He lay there, waiting for the next bullet, but only silence greeted him. Finally, he looked up. Saul was sprawled on the grass underneath the window. Opal was staring down at him through the broken glass.
“You’re some kind of shot,” she said admiringly, glaring down at Saul with a look of disgust. “Where did that crazy man come from?”
Just then the sound of hoof beats exploded into the quiet. Moments later the yard was swarming with Moses’ men. Pompey leaped down from his horse and raced to where Moses sat on the porch.
“You all right?” he gasped.
“What happened?” Moses snapped, his heart still pounding wildly.
“That Saul sure ‘nuff crazy,” Pompey said sadly. “Me and some of the boys went after him, just like you tole us. He waitin’ in the woods a ways back. Hangin’ from one of them trees like a possum! He jump down on Mort and knock him out cold. Before we could even move, he grabs Mort’s gun and takes off running.” Pompey took a deep breath. “We went after him, but he disappear so fast it plumb scary. We been lookin’ for him ever since. Then we hear the firin’. We gots here as soon as we could. You sure you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Moses said. Then he turned back and looked down at Sam. “It’s him I’m worried about.” He motioned to two of his men. “Get him in the house.”
Sam’s eyes fluttered open. “You sure be a big man, Moses,” he whispered hoarsely.
“What?” Moses asked, confused, but overjoyed to know Sam wasn’t dead.
“That man’s bullet knock me down sure enough, but I’s ready to get back up. At least until you jump on top of me.” Sam forced a grin. “You get him?” he asked weakly.
“I got him,” Moses said grimly, suddenly aware he had killed one of his own men.
Pompey interpreted the look on his face. “You couldn’t done anything else,” he assured him instantly. “That Saul be a bad one.”
“Saul?” Sam asked, gasping in sudden pain when he moved.
“Sam!” Moses exclaimed. “Where did he get you?”
“Just in the arm,” Sam scoffed. “It just knock me off balance. That why I fell.”
Opal stepped out onto the porch then. “I’ll take care of him,” she said calmly. “I ain’t Miss Carrie, that for sure, but I reckon I done watched her enough when she was here to know how to take this bullet out.” She pulled back Sam’s sleeve. “Ain’t even in there very deep,” she said with satisfaction. “Let’s get him inside.”
“Wait!” Sam insisted then leaned forward to get a better view of the man lying on the ground.
Mort looked up from where he was examining Saul. “He dead,” he announced coldly. “Good shot, Moses.”
Moses just stared, not able to believe he had killed one of his own men, even though he knew he hadn’t had any other choice.
“That be Saul from Riverside Plantation?” Sam asked.
“You know him?” Moses asked in amazement.
“He been here before,” Sam said scornfully. “I ain’t never met a man so ate up with hate in all my life. He got treated bad, sure ‘nuff, but that wadn’t all of it.” He paused. “Lots of us been treated bad. It don’t make us crazy. It just make us determine to change thin’s. Saul didn’t want to change nothin’,” he said sadly. “He just want to kill thin’s.” Sam stared down at the dead man with hard eyes. Then he gazed back up at Moses, seeming to read into his heart. “It be better this way, boy,” he said softly. “Trust me. It be better this way.”
Moses nodded heavily and pushed himself up. “Let’s get you inside, Sam.” He looked at Opal. “You sure you can do this?” He took comfort from the confident shine in Opal’s eyes when she nodded firmly. Then he turned to his men. “You’ll find some glass in the barn,” he said.
“I reckons I can fix them windows right quick,” one of his men said eagerly.
“Good,” Moses said shortly. “We’ve made enough noise around here to raise every Rebel soldier within ten miles. Fix the window; then we’ve got to get out of here. I don’t intend to lose any more of my men.”
Moses followed Sam, carried by some of his men, into the house. He waited quietly until only he and Opal were in the room. Then he looked down sadly. “I’m sorry,” he said gruffly. “This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have come here. I put you in danger.”
“Nonsense,” Sam snorted. “Sometimes thin’s just happen. You can’t go tryin’ to be responsible for all that goes on in this world - whether it be good or bad. You just gots to deal with it the best you can.” He reached out his good arm and laid his hand on Moses’. “You save my life,” he said gently. “That the thin’ you gots to remember.” His hand fell away weakly. “Now get the rest of your men out of here. You still gots a job to do. You go do it.”
“I hate to leave you,” Moses groaned.
“Sam will be just fine,” Opal said sternly. “You ain’t got a thing to worry about. This ain’t nothing more than a flesh wound.”
Moses gazed at her then nodded. “Take care of yourselves.”
Thirty minutes later, with the windows fixed and Saul’s body covered in an unidentified grave, Moses led his men away from Cromwell Plantation. In two days they would be back at Fort Monroe. His mission was over.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Christmas day dawned cold and dreary. Scattered snowflakes the night before had teased children into believing there might be a white Christmas, but the snow had subsided, seeming to know only the young would welcome it. The skies were overcast and heavy in Richmond, but the ground remained dry. The wind blew hard from the north, keeping most people huddled around the small bits of wood they were hoarding to keep their fireplaces warm. The pinched look of hunger already rested on many faces. Anxious eyes peered out from starved faces. Although it said Christmas on the calendar, gifts of any kind were scarce. The third year of the blockade had slowed supplies to a bare trickle. All the people of Richmond wanted was to find a way to stave off starvation. Some of them already knew they were asking too much.
Carrie hummed to herself as she hovered over the dining room table and put the last touches of greenery on. There was little in the house to suggest Christmas was here, but at the last minute she had run outside and denuded the magnolia of just enough of its waxen leaves to decorate the table. There would be little to remind them of Christmases past, but they still had much to be joyful about.
Thomas strode into the room and put an arm around her. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” Carrie said joyfully. She finished placing the last magnolia leaf on the table then spun around. “Can you believe we’re all together for Christmas?” Just then she glanced over his shoulder and gasped. “It’s snowing,” she cried in delight. She clapped her hands together as excitedly as a little girl and ran to the window and stared out at the huge flakes descending on the city.
“Not everyone will be as excited as you,” her father responded wryly, then smiled. “You have loved snow since you were a child.”
Carrie continued to stare out the window. “I know snow is not welcome in the city right now. I know more people will suffer. I just can’t help wanting there to be snow for Christmas,” she said wistfully.
“It’s wonderful,” her father insisted warmly. “Enjoy your snow. Heaven knows there are too few things to enjoy around here.” He kissed her on the cheek and moved away to settle down in his chair by the fire. He leaned his head against the back of the chair for a few minutes and then picked up a paper from the stack he kept beside it.
Carrie watched him lovingly. A shadow of worry still lingered in her father’s eyes, but the bitterness and rage were gone. He seemed to simply be waiting for the inevitable, working as hard as he could to stave it off, but under no illusions it would not someday become reality. Carrie knew he would be heartbroken if the South lost the war, but she was now confident he would survive.
Robert came downstairs then, looking well-rested. Carrie kissed him warmly and then waved him over to the fire. “I’m almost done here. You and Father can play lords of the manor.”
“I realize it’s just a game,” Robert chuckled good-naturedly. “I have never been particularly overwhelmed by my wife’s submissive nature.”
“As long as you enjoy the game,” Carrie said demurely, her eyes sparkling with fun.
Robert laughed, swatted her on her behind, and strolled over to the fire. He held his hands out to warm them then settled onto the chair next to her father. “Are we on a limited range of topics this morning?” Robert called.
Carrie glared at him playfully then stood silently considering his question. Finally she shook her head. “I suppose it would do no good to ask you not to talk about anything relating to the war. I realize it cannot help but consume everyone. And I suppose it helps,” she added thoughtfully. “I only request we not talk about it during our meal. For just one hour, I would like to pretend there is peace on earth and goodwill among men.”
“You have a better imagination than I do,” Thomas said ruefully.
Robert smiled and picked up a paper. He held it but continued to stare into the fire. “I know there are many people suffering from the cold, including the soldiers bivouacked in their winter quarters, but at least the fighting has stopped for now.”
“There are very few men left in the hospital,” Carrie agreed thankfully. “Most have been released to go home. That’s the only reason Janie was able to visit her family in North Carolina. I’m so glad she could,” she said fervently. “It’s been three years since she’s seen them. I’m sure they are having a joyous Christmas.”
“She’s probably eating better than we are here,” Robert observed. “One thing I discovered running the blockade is that Richmond is suffering far more than other Southern cities. No one has it easy, but food is much easier to come by if you don’t happen to live in the capital.”
“We have plenty,” Carrie said casually, hiding her smile. She hadn’t yet told her father and Robert that Opal had filled several boxes with supplies from the plantation just so they could have a special Christmas. Carrie had been hoping then that Robert would make it home from England in time. May was hard at work in the kitchen now. Tomorrow it would be back to simple fare - for today they would feast.
She finished decorating the table and walked over to stare out the window. The dark, gray day did nothing to diminish her happy mood. “I invited Doctor Wild and Matron Pember over for dinner,” she said casually.
Her father looked up, startled. “And what exactly are you planning on feeding them, dear?” he asked mildly.
“Oh, they’re used to not having much,” she responded. “It will just be nice for them to have somewhere to go. They both appreciated the invitation.” She looked up to see Robert watching her closely.
“There’s something in your eyes,” he murmured suspiciously. He folded his paper and put it aside. “You’re hiding something, Carrie Borden.”
Carrie flushed slightly but shook her head. She should have known she couldn’t pull one over on Robert. “Don’t be silly,” she chided him. Then she turned toward the kitchen. “I have work to do,” she threw over her shoulder.
Robert shook his head. “Time will reveal all,” he called, picking his paper back up.
Carrie stuck out her tongue then ducked into the hallway. She waited several moments to make sure her astute husband wasn’t going to follow her then slipped down the hallway toward the kitchen. She entered it quietly, pulling the door shut firmly.
May looked up with a grin. “I reckon you’s gonna have a feast fit for a king,” she grinned. “I ain’t had good things like this to work with for quite a while now.” She shook her head. “That Opal out on the plantation sure be a lucky woman.” Her round face glowed from the heat.
“This is the warmest room in the house,” Carrie laughed, leaning against the table and sniffing the air appreciatively. “I’m not sure how we’re going to keep this a secret with all these good smells.”
May jerked her head toward a pile of rags in the corner of the kitchen. Her hands were covered with flour from making biscuits. She ran one hand over her shiny face, leaving a white streak. “You can stuff them things under the door. That ought to keep most of the smells trapped right here.”
Carrie jumped to comply. “You’re a smart woman,” she said admiringly.
“Yep,” May responded casually.
Carrie laughed and edged over to pick off a piece of biscuit dough. “I don’t know why you bother to cook them,” she grinned. “They’re better raw.”
May grunted and swatted at her hand. “Get on with you, Miss Carrie. I gots enough work to do without you in here deviling me!”
Carrie laughed and headed for the back door, then turned back. “Didn’t Opal put some carr
ots in those boxes?” she asked innocently.
“Might have,” May conceded. “Why?”
“Well, it’s Christmas,” Carrie smiled. “I thought - ”
“You ain’t giving none of our good food to that horse of yours!” May snorted, then smiled, and reached into a box. She fumbled around for a minute then came up with a plump carrot. “Now get out of my kitchen,” she scolded, tossing her the carrot.
Carrie caught it with a grin, grabbed a coat from beside the door, and ducked out into the raw day. She stood for a moment, stared up into the gray sky, and took deep breaths. The whole country might be in the grip of dark chaos, but for this day she would put it out of her mind. It was Christmas! She turned and headed toward the stable.
Granite nickered a greeting before she had even opened the door to the barn. “Can’t sneak up on you can I, old boy?” Carrie called fondly. Moments later his massive gray head rested on her shoulder while he munched contentedly on his carrot. “I know you’re not getting enough to eat,” she said sadly, “but we’re doing the best we can.” He didn’t look poorly, but he also didn’t have the gleam he once had. Getting feed for him was every bit as difficult as obtaining food for the people in their household.
Granite nickered as if to say he understood.
Carrie stroked his head while she talked to him softly until the cold began to penetrate her clothing. “Merry Christmas,” she called as she closed the door to the barn.
Carrie was overwhelmed by the delicious smells when she entered the kitchen. Within minutes the warm, moist air had chased the chill from her shivering limbs. She stood still for several moments, breathing in the aromas, before May looked up and saw her.
May jumped slightly. “Girl, you always sneaking around on people like that?”
Carrie just laughed and moved forward. “What else have you got for me to sample?”
May scowled and held up her rolling pin. “I’m going to give you a sample of something, sure ‘nuff, if you don’t get out of my kitchen!” she warned.
