by Ginny Dye
Thomas heard the firm command in his voice and latched on to his last words. He knew Robert was right. He couldn’t leave the city right now. He had too many responsibilities. It seared his soul to think he was making decisions for the whole that might end up sacrificing Carrie, but so far he had seen no other course of action. “What is your plan?” he asked.
“I have spoken with one of my men. He is young, but I would trust him with my life. I have drawn him careful maps of the area leading out to the plantation. The area is new to him, but he is a crackerjack in the woods. General Lee has given me permission to send him out. He can leave this afternoon. That’s why I’m here. To see if you agree with my plan.”
Thomas listened carefully. “What is this man’s name?”
“Warren Hobbs.”
“The soldier whose life you saved?”
“Well, from Hobbs’ viewpoint, at least,” Robert replied modestly.
Thomas turned to look out over the city again. He would have preferred an older man go after his daughter. He knew Hobbs was just seventeen years old. He also knew the young lad was intensely loyal to Robert and would do anything for him. That kind of passion would serve him well in his current task to breach enemy lines. Finally he turned and nodded. “Send him,” he said shortly.
Robert didn’t wait for him to say more. He nodded abruptly, then turned and strode down the steps. With one last look at Thomas, he vaulted onto his horse and cantered down the road.
Thomas watched him go. Then his head bent in wordless prayer. All he could do now was wait. Wait and pray.
Robert raced back to quarters, scattering people before him as he flew through the streets. He took no heed and never thought of slowing down. His frustration had eaten at him for days. Now there was at least some action he could take. He would allow nothing to get in his way.
“Hobbs!” he called as he swung off his horse.
The youth was at his side in moments. He had obviously been watching for him. “Yes, Lieutenant!”
Robert looked him over closely. He was satisfied with what he saw. He had meant it when he said he would trust his life with Hobbs. “I want you to leave as soon as possible for Cromwell Plantation. I have a letter for Miss Cromwell. I’m sure it will convince her of the wisdom to return.” He smiled slightly. “Of course, this lady isn’t like many others.” Then his voice turned grim. “If she refuses to return with you, I want you to stay with her.”
“Yes, sir.”
Robert looked at him and then spoke directly. “Your odds of protecting her against raiding Yankee soldiers are not very good.”
Hobbs grinned. “I reckon we’ve done a lot of things where the odds didn’t look too good, Lieutenant. Don’t you worry. I’ll take care of your lady.”
Robert opened his mouth to protest that Carrie wasn’t his lady then shut it. Any fool could tell he was in love with her. Why deny it? “Thank you, Hobbs,” he said instead. “Good luck.”
Hobbs nodded, saluted, and then spun on his heel. “I’ll have her back here as soon as I can,” he threw over his shoulder. He ran into one of the tents, and moments later reappeared with a pack and his pistol strapped to his waist.
Robert handed him the reins of the horse he had chosen for him, then stood and watched until Hobbs had ridden out of view. He had done all he could do.
Hobbs came to a crossroads and stopped to carefully examine the map. He had already memorized it. Every detail was etched in his mind. But he didn’t intend to take any chances. He knew how important this was to the lieutenant. Careful perusal of the map confirmed what he knew, so he turned right and headed farther east. Rain had turned the roads to mud, but if he stayed to the side, and out of the ruts created by the wagons, he could press on at a fairly good pace.
He knew from the map that he would be on this particular road for several miles. He relaxed as the beauty of the day finally began to penetrate his senses. Already, plum trees and dogwoods carpeted the woods with their pink and white blossoms. Hobbs took a deep breath and tried to pretend he was back home in his mountains. If he tried really hard, maybe he could make himself believe he was just heading out on a hunting trip with his dog, Bridger. Gosh, how he missed that dog!
A sharp crack in the woods jerked him back to the present. A penetrating look convinced him it had been nothing except the deer peering out at him, but he firmly pushed all fantasies and daydreams out of his mind. The next crack might reveal Union soldiers advancing on Richmond. Completely alert, he continued to push forward.
He would not much longer have the luxury of a road to ride on. The lieutenant had told him it would be too dangerous to stay out in the open. He would be open game for anyone who might try to stop him. Suddenly he noticed the white board house Robert had described to him. It stood in abandoned misery. Hobbs was sure the inhabitants had already fled to Richmond. He stared at the house as he rode by. What would it see in the next few weeks? Would it still be standing to tell its story?
Riding more slowly now, Hobbs peered into the woods along the trail. He knew what he was looking for. Would he be able to find it? The massive oak Robert had described and penciled in on the map appeared in his view, but Hobbs still didn’t see the trail Robert had told him about. He vaulted off his horse and carefully led the animal into the woods at a slight break. He was almost fifty feet in before he saw it, a faint glimmer of a trail that could only be followed in daylight unless somebody knew it well.
Hobbs frowned. A quick glance at the sun told him he probably would not be able to make it all the way to the plantation before it would be too dark for him to continue. He debated pressing on anyway but knew that was a foolish idea. If he got lost in these strange woods, he would be of no help to anyone. He had maybe forty more minutes of light. He would get as far as possible, and then he would stop and make camp. Tomorrow morning he would get up with the sun and keep going. It wouldn’t take him long from there. He estimated he was maybe an hour or so from the plantation.
He pushed all daydreams from his mind as he rode, constantly scanning the woods for movement that would indicate an enemy presence. He had to pick his way around fallen trees and logs, once almost losing the trail in the process. It was becoming more difficult to see in the waning light. Finally Hobbs spotted a small clearing and swung down from his horse. This was where he would spend the night. Just to the right was a small stream to water his horse.
He took care of his gelding, then reached into his saddle bag and pulled out some beef and hardtack. It would have to do. He grabbed his blanket and wished he could build a fire, but it would be a dead giveaway of his position. As the sun dropped, the air cooled tremendously, reminding him it was still early spring. He found a log to huddle up against then pulled the blanket around him. He was perfectly comfortable. He had spent days in the mountains of Virginia with less than this.
Hobbs had barely dozed off when crashing in the woods jolted him awake. His horse snorted and pulled back against his lead in protest. Hobbs was instantly on his feet, crouching and waiting for whatever was headed his way. He pulled his pistol from his waist and cocked it. He wouldn’t go down without a fight. His heart pounded as he waited for whatever was headed his way.
Moments later a figure on horseback emerged from the darkness, obviously startled to see Hobbs. The man swore and fumbled for his pistol.
“Touch that pistol, and I’ll put a hole through you, mister,” Hobbs said in a sinister voice, glad for the darkness that would cover his youth. For now he was content to just let the other man know he was armed.
The man swore again and raised his hands in the air. “Don’t shoot,” he said sharply.
Hobbs examined the intruder. He was not dressed in Union blues. He also didn’t have the appearance of being a Union spy. His accent clearly marked him as a Southerner, and he must be someone from around here if he was confident enough to follow this trail in the dark. “Who are you?” Hobbs demanded.
“My name is Adams,” the man replied. S
lowly he lowered his hands. “You a Confederate soldier?”
“What’s it to you?”
Adams didn’t answer that question. Instead, he asked another one. “You from around here? Ain’t many people who know this trail.”
“Seeing as how you’re at the end of my pistol, it seems I should be the one asking questions,” Hobbs responded coolly. “What are you doing skulking through these woods at night?”
“Good God, man. You call that skulking? I was making enough noise to raise the dead. I sure didn’t figure anyone to be on this trail. Everybody in this area already hightailed it for Richmond. Everybody with any sense, anyway. I’m on my way there myself.”
When he paused for a breath, Hobbs had to admit the man was probably telling the truth. He certainly hadn’t been skulking. Anybody would have heard him coming.
Adams continued. “I just got back from a trip and found out my wife and kids already took off. I’m trying to find them.”
He had interjected a caring tone in his voice that made Hobbs immediately suspicious. It was easy to tell it was fake, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Not every man had a good relationship with his wife. Hobbs was pretty sure Adams was just trying to reach safety while he still could. He could have even left his wife behind.
“What kind of trip?” Hobbs still held the pistol on him.
“A slave hunting trip,” Adams responded immediately. “Just got back from risking my life in Philadelphia. Got home and found out I’m probably about to lose my home, too,” he said bitterly.
Hobbs frowned. He had no use for slavery, and he certainly had no use for slave hunters, but it at least explained why a healthy male of conscription age was not wearing Confederate gray. Slave hunters were exempt from army service.
Slowly, Hobbs lowered his pistol. “They’ll stop you at the city gates for a pass,” he said abruptly.
Adams let out a fast sigh of relief and swung from his saddle. Now that he knew Hobbs was not going to shoot him, he seemed to have a lot of questions. “How close is the Union army?”
“They’ve taken Williamsburg. They’ll probably stay there a couple of days. Then they’ll march on,” Hobbs said grimly. “You’ve picked a good time to get out of here.”
Adams nodded. Then his mind seemed to turn to more immediate problems. “How do I get a pass into the city...? What’s your name, anyway?”
Hobbs shrugged. He saw no reason not to tell him. “Hobbs. And I don’t know too much about passes. You’ll have to ask at the blocks.” He paused. “I’m sure they’re going to allow refugees from the country in, but it might help if you know someone of influence.”
Adams thought for a moment. “Do you know a fellow by the name of Thomas Cromwell?”
Hobbs hesitated. Something in him was telling him to be very cautious. This did not seem like the kind of man to be close to Thomas Cromwell. “Why?” he asked carefully.
“I know Cromwell. Used to be the overseer on his plantation. I’m sure he would vouch for me.”
Hobbs looked at the man carefully in the little light that was left. He didn’t like the narrow lines of his face or the beady look in his eyes. Alarms were going off inside, and he knew to listen when that happened. Slave hunters had a reputation of being mean and brutal. He couldn’t see Thomas Cromwell having a man like that as an overseer. “You say you used to be his overseer? What happened?”
“What’s it matter to you?” Adams’ voice tightened with anger.
Hobbs knew he had hit a sore point. He also knew he had no real reason to make it his business. “Just curious,” he said casually. Then a thought struck him. Perhaps running into Adams had been a piece of luck. If he could get him to lead him to the plantation tonight, he would lessen his chances of anything happening to Miss Cromwell. He decided to ignore the alarms. He could forgive the man for being a slave hunter if Adams could get him to Cromwell Plantation sooner.
“You know the way from here to Cromwell Plantation?”
Now it was Adams’ turn to study him closely. “Might. What’s it to you?”
“That happens to be where I’m headed.”
Adams peered at him. “What for?”
It was a fair question. Why would he be headed to Cromwell Plantation when everyone else in the area was running away? “I have orders to bring Carrie Cromwell back to the city. Her father is very worried about her. I understand she is growing huge crops of food on the plantation to help feed Richmond.”
Once again Adams adopted his fake caring voice. “Carrie Cromwell is alone on Cromwell Plantation? She hasn’t retreated to the city yet?”
Hobbs shook his head, wondering if he had said too much.
Adams was quiet for few minutes. Then he seemed to reach a decision. “I tell you what. I’m going to do you a big favor. Sure, I could lead you back to Cromwell Plantation, but it would take a lot longer for both of us to do it. I can make much faster time on my own.” He paused. “Time is critical, Hobbs. I took to this trail because I saw Union soldiers scouting the road a ways back.”
Hobbs listened carefully although he had no intention of going along with anything Adams might suggest. Lieutenant Borden had made Carrie Cromwell his responsibility, and he planned to finish his mission. But he was willing to hear Adams out. He had a feeling there was more going on here than he knew.
“You can go on back to the city,” Adams continued. “I’m sure your skills are in demand there. You can tell them the Union soldiers are advancing. I’ll get Miss Cromwell and return to Richmond with her.” He gave a sympathetic laugh. “I’m sure her father is worried sick. I know I would be if she was my daughter.” Then he paused. “Let me guess. She has refused to leave the plantation. Carrie Cromwell can be very hard-headed.”
In spite of his attempt to sound caring and sympathetic, Hobbs heard the edge of anger in his voice. He was certain now he had made a mistake in revealing his mission to Adams. The only thing to do was send him on his way and move on in the morning. He tried to keep his voice casual as he responded. “Thanks for your offer, Adams, but I reckon this job is mine. I started it. I aim to finish it.”
Adams scowled. “And what if your staying here in the woods tonight means harm comes to Carrie Cromwell? Her father will never get over it, and he will certainly never forgive you.”
Nor the lieutenant, Hobbs thought silently. He would not be swayed, though. The lieutenant had trusted him. He was not going to let him down. Hobbs took a deep breath and stared at the ground. “I reckon I’m gonna have to take that chance,” he said firmly.
When Hobbs looked up again, he was staring down the barrel of Adams’ pistol. “And I don’t reckon I’m going to let you take that chance. Carrie Cromwell is too important to me.”
Hobbs shuddered at the hatred he heard in the man’s voice. He also cursed himself for his stupidity for letting this happen. “What’s your game, Adams?” he asked coldly.
Adams merely shrugged. “Seeing as how you’re the one at the end of my pistol now, I reckon I get to ask the questions,” he said sarcastically. “But just for your information, Miss Carrie Cromwell ain’t nobody you should be risking your life for. She ain’t nothing but a nigger lover. Her and those Union fellows ought to get along just fine.”
Hobbs stared at him. He had no idea what Carrie Cromwell had done to gain the enmity of this man, but whatever it was, he was quite sure Adams had deserved it. He had seen men like him before. Men so full of hatred and bitterness it poured out on everyone they came in contact with. He found himself hoping Adams’ wife and kids truly were safe in Richmond because he was quite sure they weren’t safe with him.
As he stared down the barrel of Adams’ gun, he frantically tried to figure a way out of the mess he had placed himself in. Wrestling Adams for his gun was out of the question. He for sure wouldn’t do Miss Cromwell any good if he was dead.
Adams read his mind. “You don’t even need to think about getting away. It wouldn’t hurt me none to put a bullet right betwe
en your eyes.”
“Accept if Yankee soldiers in the area hear you,” Hobbs reminded him, thinking fast. “I don’t think you’ll be able to pass as a Yankee with that accent.” When Adams scowled, Hobbs knew he had scored a point.
Adams sat silently for a moment, never removing his eyes from Hobbs. It was almost completely dark in the woods now. The glow from the moon rising on the horizon cast the only faint light there was. “I reckon you’re right, boy. I reckon you’re right.”
Hobbs tried to duck as Adams raised his arm, but then everything went black.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
His lips curled in a hateful sneer, Adams stared down at Hobbs’ still form. It had not taken him long to discover there was nothing but a kid on the other end of that pistol. Once he had thrown him off guard, it had been easy to take control.
Adams continued to stare down at him as he pondered his options. It was quite interesting to know Carrie Cromwell was on the plantation alone. He had thought about her briefly but was sure she would have followed the example of all her neighbors and fled to Richmond. He should have known better. His eyes narrowed as he realized there was probably no one in the house to afford her much protection. Her father was in Richmond. Moses was in Philadelphia somewhere.
Adams cursed under his breath as he thought again of the beating Matthew Justin had inflicted on him. He had deemed it wise to leave Philadelphia for the time being, but it certainly didn’t mean he had given up his mission. Money from Cromwell was no longer even a point to consider. He was out for vengeance, pure and simple. Vengeance against Carrie Cromwell. Against Moses and Rose. And now he had added Matthew Justin to his list.
It would be foolish to turn back to Cromwell Plantation, he decided. For some reason Carrie must not be aware of the advancing troops. If she was, surely she would have left. From the talk he had heard today while he was hiding in the woods on the side of the road, the Union soldiers were wandering far afield in their search for food. It was just a matter of time before they found Cromwell Plantation. Still, they may decide not to harm the beautiful girl. They would frighten her, but Adams wanted more than that.
