Dark Chaos

by Ginny Dye

  “Let’s stop to eat,” Matthew suggested, nodding toward Wilson when Peter and Anderson looked at him in surprise.

  They were huddled next to a log just yards from the road when they heard hoof beats. Thick underbrush concealed their position, but all four men froze. Matthew motioned for the others to stay; then he crept forward until he could see the road. His blood chilled when he saw a unit of ten Rebel soldiers round the curve. They were talking and laughing, obviously not concerned with stealth.

  “Picked up two more today,” one of them laughed. “You should have seen that man’s face.”

  “Yeah.” Another soldier laughed harshly. “You should have heard him. When Bridger over there ran him down, he drew himself up real proud.” He deepened his voice to imitate his captive. “My name is Captain William Springer of the Unites States Army. I have tunneled my way out of Libby Prison and escaped. I will not return alive. Go ahead and shoot me.”

  Matthew felt sick. Springer had stuck with them when all the other men had given up in despair. He had talked about what he would do when he got home to his wife and three girls. He had come so close.

  “Did he shoot him?” another soldier asked eagerly.

  “Nah,” he responded. “Bridger roughed him up with his rifle butt real good then threw him in a wagon. I guess he’s on his way back to Libby Hotel. He was still begging someone to shoot him when I rode off.”

  “I kinda feel sorry for him,” one of the soldiers admitted. “I spent a little time in a Union prison. I felt the same way.”

  “Yeah?” another quipped snidely. “I wouldn’t be broadcasting your feelings. Folks in Richmond are still plenty upset about that prison break. It’s been almost three weeks now. At last count, only forty-five of them prisoners have been brought back. That leaves a lot who are gonna be up North snubbing their noses at us.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t reckon we need to be hanging around here anymore,” one called. “Some of those fellows obviously made it through because we just barely missed a clash with some Union cavalry today. I been seeing signs of them all over. As best I can figure we’re only a few miles from their lines. I’m done hunting for prisoners. I’m glad to be going home.”

  Right then, Matthew was wishing for a rifle. Anger pounded in his ears, blurring his vision and making breathing difficult. For one wild moment, he considered dashing out of the woods and attacking the man who had mimicked Springer. He restrained himself. He still had to get Anderson and Wilson the rest of the way. He couldn’t get himself captured now. Besides, what good would it do?

  Tell the story. The voice in his heart reminded him. Tell the story.

  Matthew waited until the men had disappeared, their talking and laughter gone, before he turned around to the other men. Matthew and his friends stared at one another with sick, angry eyes for a long moment.

  “We’re almost there,” Matthew said. “Let’s get going.” They had to continue for their own sakes - and for the sakes of those who had tried and failed.

  The sun was still high in the sky when Matthew peered through a clump of trees and saw a splash of Union blue. He leaned forward, looking more closely to make sure he wasn’t mistaken and about to walk into a nest of Rebel soldiers. He could clearly see several Union soldiers strolling back and forth, their guns on their shoulders.

  “We made it,” Matthew choked, his voice thick with emotion now that the end was in sight. He put an arm around Anderson to support his faltering steps, and they edged out of the forest. Peter, with Wilson slung across his shoulder, walked out behind them. Wilson had collapsed a half mile back. Peter had been carrying him ever since.

  As they moved closer a Union soldier glanced up and moved to intercept them. “Who goes there?”

  “My name is Matthew Justin,” Matthew called clearly, gladness ringing in his voice. “I am a journalist with the Philadelphia Tribune. I have another journalist and two Union officers with me. We have escaped Libby Prison and are requesting sanctuary.”

  The soldier lowered his rifle and rushed forward. “Hey, fellows,” he called back over his shoulder. “Four more of those jail-breakers made it!”

  Two days later, once more rested and well-fed, Matthew approached the cabin General Butler had directed him to. He smiled in anticipation and knocked softly on the door. He heard footsteps and then the door was flung open. His smile disappeared as he looked into the unfamiliar face of a young woman. “I’m sorry,” he said graciously. “I’m afraid I must have the wrong house.”

  “Not necessarily,” the girl said, smiling. “My name is Susie. Who are you looking for? Even if she doesn’t live here, I reckon I might know her.”

  “I’m trying to locate Rose Samuels.”

  Susie’s smile widened. “Well, then, I reckon you be at the right place. Only she ain’t here right now.”

  Matthew tried to swallow his disappointment.

  “Don’t look so sad, mister.” Susie laughed. “She’s just down at the school.” She paused, her eyes suddenly cautious. “Who are you?”

  “Matthew Justin. I’m an…”

  “Old friend of hers,” Susie finished, her smile even broader now. “I’m Susie. I’m living here while my husband serves in the army. Rose will be sure enough happy to see you. She’s told me all about you and how you saved her from Ike Adams. You go right down to that school. Moses just left a few days ago. Seeing you will make her real happy.”

  “Moses was here!” Matthew asked. “I thought he would be somewhere with the army.”

  “He is now,” Susie said. “He took part in the attempt to set those prisoners free in Richmond, but it didn’t turn out so good. He made his way back here, along with about fifteen soldiers he’d picked up along the way. He had two days with his family and then left again. He should be with General Meade’s army now – along with my Zeke,” she added proudly.

  Matthew listened in amazement. There had been a prison break attempt? What had happened? He was suddenly very eager to talk with Rose and get the answers. He turned to go but then hesitated. “Shouldn’t I wait here? I’d hate to interrupt.”

  Susie shook her head. “It won’t be an interruption. Besides, I think her afternoon session is about over.”

  Matthew hesitated then nodded. “Thank you.”

  Minutes later he stood just inside the door of Rose’s school. He watched for several minutes as she moved from student to student checking each one’s work. She stooped down to smile into a little girl’s face, talked to her quietly for a few moments, and then stood, patting her on the head. The little girl looked up with a grateful grin before she turned back to her work.

  Suddenly Rose, seeming to know she was being watched, glanced toward the back of the room. Her face creased in a puzzled frown for a moment; then a huge smile exploded on her face. “Matthew Justin!” she cried, running down the narrow aisle.

  Matthew stepped out into the aisle and caught her in a warm embrace. Both of them were laughing when he set her back down.

  Without warning, Rose pulled him toward the front of the classroom; then she turned him to face the mass of inquisitive faces staring at him. “This is my friend, Matthew Justin,” she began. “He is a journalist from Philadelphia. He writes stories about what is happening in the war. Maybe he’ll tell you a story.”

  Matthew looked at her in surprise. She knew nothing about how he had spent the last eight months. Tell the story. He looked into the children’s young faces. Suddenly he realized they were not too young to hear about men’s cruelty to each other. Their wise eyes said they had already experienced more than he probably ever would. They were not too young to accept the challenge to make a difference. And they were not too young to know they could take action to change their circumstances. Maybe starting with the young children meant their hearts could be protected before it was too late.

  He took a deep breath. He and Rose would have plenty of time to talk later. “I’d like to tell you a story,” he began.

  CHAPTER THI
RTY-FOUR

  Spring had once again descended upon Richmond, its soft breezes chasing away the chill of winter and coaxing flowers from the barren ground. Ice had disappeared from the river and been replaced by prisoner exchange boats. After failing to liberate prisoners with the raid on the capital city, Lincoln had decided to reinstate the Flag of Truce boats plying the waterways of the two countries. The prisons were still full, but the horrible overcrowding had eased.

  Carrie was waiting on the porch when Robert rode down the street on Granite. She looked at the two of them proudly, but then she glanced away when her vision became blurred with tears. “Get a hold of yourself,” she whispered fiercely. “You knew this time was coming.”

  Robert trotted up to the gate then swung off Granite. He stood and looked at Carrie on the porch, but he made no move to join her.

  Carrie waited. She knew he was once again imprinting her face on his mind. Willing all the love swelling in her heart to show on her face, she gazed at him. Finally Robert strode up the sidewalk and drew her into his arms.

  “What is the report from Lee?” Carrie asked, more to delay the inevitable than to know the answer.

  “General Lee is taking a realistic view of what we are facing this summer,” Robert told her. “A detailed report has just been sent to Davis. He is urging the Secretary of War to build up reserve supplies in Richmond. He has also suggested that all residents whose presence is not required should be forced to go elsewhere.” He paused. “He told Davis that if anything happens to interrupt the flow of rations to the army that he might have to retreat all the way to North Carolina.”

  “I see,” Carrie said softly, studying Robert’s face. She sighed. “You know I won’t leave the city. My work is here.”

  “I know,” Robert said in an anguished voice.

  “The city has been threatened before,” Carrie said, trying to alleviate some of the fear on Robert’s face. “Why is Lee so pessimistic now?”

  “Meade’s army has been taken over by the Union’s General Grant. Lee knows he can’t count on cautiousness and inactivity to give him the advantage. He has an army of dedicated fighting men, but once again they are seriously outnumbered. And he doesn’t have Stonewall Jackson to pull off any stunning surprises.” Robert paused. “General Grant is an imposing commander.” He glanced toward the city, his frown deepening. “Lee knows an attack could come at any day. He cannot even call all of his artillery in because of lack of forage. He simply doesn’t have the means to keep everything alive.”

  “Supplies are still so critical?”

  Robert nodded. “Lee is recommending the end of all railroad travel until the army’s mobility has been restored.”

  “Has he lost all hope?”

  “General Lee?” Robert scoffed. “The odds might be against him, but he is already devising ways to confound the Federals.”

  “And if he can’t?” Carrie watched Robert’s face closely.

  He met her gaze. “Then it will all be over.”

  Suddenly, Carrie didn’t want to talk anymore. She moved forward and pressed her body against Robert’s. He gathered her close and then pulled her over to the swing where they sat in silence for a long time, simply absorbing each other’s presence. Everything had already been said that could be said. Just as they had expected, Robert had been called back into active duty. With the renewed threat against Richmond, every man possible had been called to arms.

  Robert finally stood, pulling her close into another long hug before he stepped back. “I have to go.”

  Carrie managed to smile. “I have something for you.” She moved across the porch to the magnolia tree and picked off both the magnolia blooms that had flowered just that morning. She carried them over and presented one fragrant blossom to Robert. “The day we got married, my father brought me the first bloom of the season. I made a wish on it.” She gazed at the man she loved more than anyone in the world. “I wished that you and I would have a long life of happiness together.” She paused. “I’m wishing the same thing today.”

  Robert touched the bloom tenderly then stuck it in his pocket. “I’ll be back,” he promised. “We still have a lot of living to do.” He crushed her to him, then turned, and sprang off the porch.

  Carrie watched until he and Granite were out of sight, her magnolia bloom crushed to her breast and tears streaming down her face. When she could no longer see them through her blur of tears, she raised the milky blossom to her lips and kissed it gently. She would keep it on her mantel until Robert returned. It would remind her every day of the dream burning in her heart.

  Her dream was that one day the dark chaos would end and nothing would ever separate them again.

  Read the first 2 Chapters of The Long Last Night

  Coming July 15th, 2013

  The Long, Last Night

  Chapter 1

  Would it be today?

  Carrie Borden turned away from the Chimborazo Hospital building and tents crowding the plateau when she crested the steep hill and moved to the edge of the cliff overlooking Richmond and the James River glittering below. She pushed stray black, wavy strands back into her bun and tried to block out every noise in the overcrowded, bustling capital of the Confederacy. She was listening for just one thing…

  The sound of battle.

  Three years into the Civil War, there was no doubt that there would be another attempt to take Richmond. On to Richmond had been the Union battle cry from the beginning. Every spring there was vicious fighting that tore at the heart and soul of what had once been a united country. Every spring the buildings behind her filled with horribly wounded men who would never live the life they had known before if they survived their wounds.

  But it was just one man who held Carrie’s heart. Just one man who had kissed her goodbye a few days before and headed out with General Lee’s Confederate troops to meet the massive 100,000 man Union army waiting on the other side of the Rapidan River to attack.

  Carrie’s husband of just one year, Captain Robert Borden, was once again on the battlefield. Carrie took deep breaths, trying to calm her nerves and focus her mind. Everyone knew the battle would start soon. Today. Tomorrow.

  And then it would begin all over again, the constant worrying and wondering of whether Robert had made it through another battle.

  The sound of battle would also trigger wagonloads of wounded men pouring into the hospital and into medical wards and homes all over the city that were set up to handle the tens of thousands of men that would need them.

  Carrie stared into the distance, her green eyes glistening with tears, took one final deep breath and turned to stride briskly into the nearest tent.

  Battle would come. She had work to do.

  “Good morning, Carrie,” Dr. Wild called cheerfully, his laughing green eyes glancing up at her from under his cap of curly, rust-colored hair.

  Just the sound of his cheer, no matter how forced, made Carrie feel better. And it made her realize how thankful she was to be able to make a difference. She was the only woman working as a true medical assistant to a doctor at Chimborazo Hospital. Dr. Wild had been the first to give her a chance to use her skills; now they worked as a team.

  The years of battle had sickened her; they had also left her even more certain she was going to become a doctor when the war ended. The ridicule she had suffered from so many when she had first arrived at the hospital had done nothing but steel her determination.

  “Good morning, Dr. Wild!” she called out, glancing down the rows of what was mostly an empty hospital ward. Most of the soldiers wounded in earlier battles had already been sent home or back to the battlefront.

  “Will you check all the drug supplies?” Dr. Wild asked. “I’ve had the women stock everything they have made so far. I’m afraid we’ve got little but what has been created.”

  Carrie nodded grimly. The blockades of the Southern coastline by the Union navy had been grimly successful, blocking out the drugs and medicines so desperately needed to
treat patients. Once again, Carrie sent deep waves of gratitude to Old Sarah, now dead, who had taught her the magic of the herbs filling the Virginia woods. She had directed groups of women all spring in collecting plants and then turning them into the herbal medicines and treatments that would be the only relief many of the men would have.

  “I checked everything before I left last night. We’ve got a good supply of the most important medicines. The women will continue making them. They’ve become quite good at it.”

  “They’re angels,” Dr. Wild agreed. “All the beds are ready.” He walked to the open door and stared north. “Now we wait.”

  Carrie moved forward to stand beside him. The air was still; the whole city held its breath as it waited for the inevitable. Though the sun shone hot and bright, she could feel the heavy, dark clouds that had settled over the entire country. Storm after storm had wrought tremendous damage, but they weren’t done yet.

  The worst was still yet to come.

  Carrie shook her head to dispel her gloomy thoughts and then smiled when she saw Janie striding up the hill. She had finished breakfast with her best friend just an hour earlier, but she was already in need of her steadiness.

  Janie looked over and then veered off her course to another tent to come join them. She took her position at the door and gazed north, just as Dr. Wild and Carrie were. “Will it start today?”

  “I don’t know,” Dr. Wild said. “We’ve been told to be ready, but there is no definite word on whether General Meade has begun to move his troops. I suppose that, like always, we’ll know when the wagons start rolling in.”

  He looked at Carrie with deep sympathy. “Any word from Robert yet?”

  “No, but I didn’t expect there to be. Both he and my father believe this will be the hardest fought battle for Richmond yet.”