by Ginny Dye
Finally Thomas spoke. “Letcher has called out the Public Guard to secure the property and buildings belonging to the United States.” He paused. “He also had the Confederate flag taken down. He replaced it with the Virginia flag.”
“Not the United States flag?” Carrie questioned, leaning forward.
Thomas shook his head. “Letcher knows Sumter has given the secessionist the final voice, but he is determined that order and legality will prevail. He has also sent commissioners to Washington to seek some kind of guarantees from Lincoln. He is still searching for some way out of this mess but I believe he knows the inevitable is coming.”
Thomas turned to stare into the fire Micah had laid to ward off the late evening chill. “I think you need to have your things moved to Richmond, Carrie.” His voice was grave.
Carrie stared at him. “What?” she said in disbelief. “Why?” She was not at all prepared for this turn of events.
Thomas swung around to look at her. “War is coming. I know it. I’ve told you before it won’t be the easy war everyone is talking about. There will be much tragedy and death on either side.” It was obvious he had thought this through long before now. “Letcher has already asked me to stay here to help settle all the ramifications of what is coming. I will not return home until after the war.” He leaned forward and spoke intensely. “I don’t want you on the plantation, Carrie. I would do nothing but worry about you. There is no telling what is going to happen. If the war doesn’t actually reach there, you will soon not be safe with the slaves. The spirit of rebellion is going to affect them as well.” He paused. “I am sending a letter back with you to Ike Adams. I have asked him to take on the job of completely overseeing the plantation until this is all over.” His voice was firm. “I want you to come to Richmond and live, Carrie.”
Carrie gazed at him for several long moments. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet, but equally firm. “I can’t do that, Father.”
Thomas didn’t look surprised, but he shook his head firmly. “I am not asking you, Carrie. I’m telling you this time. I want you in Richmond.”
Carrie took a deep breath. “Father, you left me on the plantation six months ago because it was what you had to do. I have never begrudged you that.” She paused, not wanting her words to hurt him. “I have always been independent, but leaving me on my own out there made me even more so.” She smiled slightly at the look of pain that flickered across her father’s face. “It’s not a bad thing, Father. I rather like being independent. It’s other people who seem to have a hard time with it.” She paused again, searching for the right words. “It’s more than that, though. At one time all I wanted was to leave Cromwell and move to Richmond. I would have jumped at the opportunity you are giving me. It’s different now,” she said slowly. “My place is on the plantation for now. I believe that’s where I’m supposed to be. I have to go back. And you need to let me do what I have to do.”
Thomas looked at her for several long minutes. Not a sound stirred the quiet of the room except the occasional crack of an ember. Finally he nodded. “As usual, I’m going to let you have your way.” Then he smiled faintly, as if determined to face defeat gracefully. “It’s different this time, though. I’m not giving in to a strong-willed daughter. I am accepting the beliefs of a strong woman who knows what she wants. I will still worry about you but it seems we have two different jobs to do.”
Carrie moved forward and sank down at his feet, laying her head on his knee like she had done as a child. She smiled up at him. “Thank you, Father.”
Two days later, Thomas strode into the house, his whole body held in stern lines. “Lincoln has gone too far!” he proclaimed as soon as he entered the house.
Carrie had just returned from a walk in the city. She laid aside her hat and walked over to look up into her Father’s face. “What has happened?”
“Lincoln has requested Virginia to commission 8,000 men to form an army of 75,000 to put down the Southern rebellion.”
Carrie gasped. “He wants Virginian’s to fight against the South? They will never do that!”
“You’re so right,” Thomas said grimly. “Lincoln has gone too far this time. The convention is meeting tomorrow. I am sure the vote will be for secession. However strongly most of us feel about the Union, we are Virginians and Southerners first. We will never fight against those we are so closely linked with. Lincoln’s choice to use force is a grave mistake.” He shook his head. “I knew it was coming. Still,” he sighed, “it breaks my heart. What this country had was glorious...” His voice trailed off as he gazed absently out the window at the profusion of flowers heralding spring. Carrie joined him next to the window, linking her arm with his. Together, they stared into the future.
Carrie could sense the dark clouds settling over her beloved country. Their time had come. She thought about all she had learned in the past year and accepted the reality that from the very first moment slavery had been permitted in a country founded on freedom, their presence had been permitted. They had long boiled on the horizon, but now, fed by passion and greed, they were at full strength and intent on devouring everything in their path.
Carrie shuddered, then edged closer to her father. Still, neither spoke, and she allowed her thoughts to roam. One year ago she had made the decision to live her life honestly – letting no one else’s opinion form who she would be. It had been a year of massive personal change, challenges, and radical actions. There was not a single one she regretted, but never had she felt so alone – nor so completely fulfilled.
War had come. She would face it.
Carrie had just settled into the carriage seat when she saw her Father hurrying up the street. “Father,” she said as he drew near enough, “We said our good-byes this morning.”
Thomas reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. “I thought you might want this before you leave,” he said, handing it to her.
Carrie looked down at the familiar handwriting. “Robert,” she said softly. She thought of waiting until she was alone to open the letter, but her impatience and curiosity won out. It took only a moment to break the seal and pull out the single sheet of linen paper.
Dear Carrie,
Virginia is now a part of the Confederacy. As expected, I have been offered a commission as an officer in the new army. I am now Lieutenant Robert Borden. I suddenly realize I find no great thrill in the honor bestowed on me. The reality that I may be fighting friends I spent years in college with has suddenly settled on my heart.
Carrie, I am doing what you asked. I am trying to find out the truth. You are not the only one to challenge me recently. For me, there are now two battles. One for my country - the other one to determine my own beliefs. Please pray for me. I love you, Carrie. I will return.
Love,
Robert
Carrie smiled as she refolded the letter. Was there hope after all?
Thomas looked at her closely, then reached into the carriage to give her a big hug, holding her tight for a long moment. “I love you.” He paused, and Carrie looked at him expectantly. “Promise me something, Carrie,” he continued hoarsely. “Promise me you will leave the plantation if it becomes too dangerous.” Sudden tears sprang into his eyes. “I’ve lost one of the two women in my life. I can’t bear the thought of losing the other as well.”
“I promise,” Carrie whispered. She brushed back her tears and kissed her father on his cheek. “I promise…”
Read the first 2 Chapters of Book # 2 – On To Richmond – starting on the next page!
On To Richmond
ONE
MAY 1861
Carrie Cromwell frowned as she stared out over the raging, turbulent waters of the James River. Four days of steady rain had transformed the usually placid river into a furious monster tearing at its confining banks. Torrents of water sweeping down from the western Appalachian Mountains would soon enable the river to succeed in its quest to top the banks and seek its claim on the surrounding farmland. M
assive tree trunks swept by like weightless match sticks, their solid darkness almost matching the muddy swirl of the water.
Carrie lifted her eyes from the river to gaze up into the brilliant blue sky. The rain had ended just the night before, leaving the air crystal clear and deliciously fresh. She allowed herself to stare up into it for just a moment before she turned her eyes back to the river. It more closely matched her thoughts.
“Are you going to tell me about the letter you got from your Father? Or are you just going to continue stewing about it?”
Carrie managed a slight smile as she turned to look at Rose. “How did you know?” Then she laughed. “Don’t even bother to answer that question. I should know by now that you know me almost as well as I know myself.”
Carrie lapsed into brooding silence again, knowing Rose would give her all the time she needed to answer her question. Granite, her towering grey Thoroughbred gelding, moved under her restlessly as the waters of the river won their fight with the muddy banks and began to edge slowly toward where the two friends watched from astride their horses. Finally, she reached deep into the pocket of the navy blue dress she wore and pulled out a thick envelope.
“This letter from Father came just this morning.”
Rose nodded. “I saw the man who delivered it.” She paused, and then asked carefully. “Is it bad news?”
Carrie managed a slight laugh. “Is there anything but bad news in our country right now? Fort Sumter has fallen. Virginia has seceded. The war has begun...” She shook her head. It would not do to let her thoughts go where they wanted to. She knew the thoughts would come - later - when it was dark and there was no flurry of activity to block them out. But for now she would concentrate on what was at hand. She raised her hand and stuffed an errant, wavy black strand of hair back into her long braid. In a hurry to get to the river, she hadn’t even bothered to shape it into a bun. Now the silky strands sought to escape the confines of the thick braid as the breeze teased her hair into rebellion.
A frown creased her brow again as she stared down at the letter in her hand. “Father has been asked by Governor Letcher to take a high position in the Virginia state government.”
“Surely you expected that. Your father has been working with the Governor since he left in November.”
Carrie frowned again as memories of her father’s hopelessness after the death of his beloved wife, Abigail, swept through her mind. She missed her mother, too, but they had grown close only in the last month of her life so her death hadn’t left the same gaping hole. She nodded as Rose’s words penetrated her thoughts. “Yes, of course I expected it...”
“Then what is troubling you so much?” Rose demanded.
Carrie almost smiled at the impatience in her friend’s voice. The freedom they experienced in their friendship was wonderful. A year ago, things had been very different. Rose had still been her best friend, but the reality of Rose being her personal slave, while she lived the luxurious life of a wealthy plantation owner’s daughter, had put an impenetrable barrier of protocol between them. The past year had blown those barriers away. Now they were like sisters.
Carrie struggled to express her feelings. “Everything is so different now...” she began haltingly. “It was exciting to think of Father standing close to the helm of Virginia when we were still part of the Union and everyone was fighting so hard to keep it that way. But now...” She paused and stared out at the rampaging river as she tried to force her turbulent thoughts into some form of order. “Father believed so much in keeping the Union together. Now he has flung himself into the struggle for Southern independence. I guess that’s what is hard. He is fighting just as hard to defend what he didn’t believe in, as he fought to keep it from happening.” She shook her head slowly. “I still can’t believe it’s true. Virginia is no longer a part of the United States. I am no longer a United States citizen.”
“What else did your father say, Carrie?” Rose’s voice was now gentle, as if she sensed the deep turmoil boiling in her friend.
Carrie shook her head more firmly. “I’m sorry.” Her short laugh held no humor. “I realize I’m not being very communicative today. Let me try this again.” She gazed down at the letter she held in her hand, and searched for the right place. “Here it is...” She straightened in the saddle to read her father’s words, bracing herself to accept the truth of what she read.
Dearest Daughter,
I have grand news for you. Our fair capitol of Richmond is being chosen for a high honor. The decision is being made, even as I write this letter, to place the seat of our wonderful Confederacy right here in Richmond.
Rose looked at Carrie in surprise. “I thought the Confederate Capitol was in Montgomery, Alabama.”
Carrie shrugged. “It was.” She put down the letter and tried to explain what her father had written without having to decipher his handwriting again. “It seems Alexander Stephens, the Vice-President of the Confederacy, arrived in Richmond just a few days after the Convention voted to secede. He was impressed by Richmond’s beauty, but it was much more than that that caused him to make his recommendation for Richmond to become the Capitol. He is well aware of Richmond’s economic wealth and the potential for growth.”
Carrie paused as she tried to remember what else her father had said. “Tredegar Iron Works played a big role in his decision. That, along with the other iron companies in Richmond. Stephens said the Confederate government’s war-waging capacity would have suffered a staggering blow if Virginia hadn’t seceded. They’re counting on Richmond for cannons, ammunitions, boats and other things.” She looked out over the river again as she tried to erase the image of Southern cannons pointed toward her friends from the North. “My father said something about Richmond being strategic in a military sense but I’m not sure what he meant. He may write more about it later.”
“Do you want the South to win the war?” Rose asked bluntly.
Carrie turned to stare into her eyes. “You do manage to cut through to the quick of an issue, don’t you?”
Rose merely shrugged and returned Carrie’s look.
Carrie swung her gaze back to the river. It matched her emotions now even more than it had a few moments ago – her feelings as tossed and jumbled as the muddy cauldron. Finally, she turned back to Rose. “I don’t know,” she stated flatly. “I think this whole war is stupid. I think people should have had enough sense to keep it from ever happening. But now that it’s here? I just don’t know, Rose.” She smiled slightly. “Does that make me bad?”
Rose sat quietly.
“You’re not going to say anything, are you?” Carrie demanded.
Rose shook her head.
Carrie managed a brief laugh and then forced herself to look deep into her heart. Rose’s question had made her realize what was really eating at her heart and mind. She was living in a nation at war. Where was her allegiance? Did she have one? Did it make her a traitor to her beloved South if she couldn’t enter the conflict wholeheartedly? How could she support a war that was being fought largely over the continuation of slavery - an institution she despised? But how could she not fight to keep her homeland from being destroyed? What about Robert...? The turbulence of her thoughts once again threatened to overwhelm her, just as the river was overwhelming the defeated banks it was now creeping over. “I don’t know. I simply don’t know...” she murmured.
Her troubled thoughts demanded an outlet. She shook her head and cried, “Beat you back to the house!” Spinning Granite on his haunches, she launched him into a ground-swallowing gallop. She knew Rose, on the much smaller mare, Maple, wouldn’t stand a chance but she didn’t care. She had to release her spinning thoughts. She leaned low over Granite’s neck and allowed the fresh air to envelope her. Granite pulled at the reins and she gave him what he wanted. The big Thoroughbred flattened himself to the ground as he flew down the road leading back to the Cromwell Plantation house.
Carrie moved as one with the horse she had owned since childh
ood. As they flashed through the afternoon sun, flying in and out of pockets of shade, she slowly felt herself relax. She could almost feel the cobwebs floating out of her mind. She didn’t have to have any answers yet. Her heart was demanding one, but life wasn’t yet demanding one. She knew that for now she was supposed to stay on the plantation, doing what she had been doing since her father had left to go to Richmond. When the time came that she needed to know her heart and mind more clearly, she would know what she was supposed to do. She would simply have to believe that.
As the realization of that truth sank through, she gave a glad laugh and pulled Granite down to a slow canter. Only then did she think of Rose. She glanced back but could catch no glimpse of her friend. She pulled Granite down to a walk and turned him around to stare in the direction she had come from. Nothing. Concern replaced the glad smile with deep lines of worry. Had Rose fallen off? Was something wrong? She had taught her friend how to ride several months ago, but Rose still wasn’t entirely confident on a horse. Berating herself for dashing off in a wild run, Carrie urged Granite into a gallop and sped back down the road.
She was halfway to the river before she caught sight of Rose trotting Maple calmly down the road. “Are you all right?” she cried. “What happened?”
Rose laughed softly. “I’m fine. I didn’t have any inside bombs to diffuse. Maple and I are simply enjoying the afternoon. She agreed with me that it was silly to go racing after a horse we could never catch.”
Carrie laughed at the amused expression on Rose’s face and swung Granite alongside to trot with them.
“Are you feeling better after your mad run?”
Carrie nodded. “It always helps,” she said simply.
Rose smiled and fell into a short silence. Then she looked up. “What did your father say about the plantation?”
Carrie frowned at her question. “I don’t know how long we can keep up our little game. Father asked about Ike Adams again. He was concerned that Adams would have to leave the plantation as overseer.”
