by Ginny Dye
Walking
Into The Unknown
October 1867 – October 1868
Book # 10 in The Bregdan Chronicles
Sequel to Always Forward
Ginny Dye
Walking Into The Unknown
Copyright 2017 by Ginny Dye
Published by
Bregdan Publishing
Bellingham, WA 98229
www.BregdanChronicles.net
www.GinnyDye.com
www.BregdanPublishing.com
ISBN # 1544625219
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without the written permission of the publisher.
Printed in the United States of America
For Linnea. You have brought so much joy to my life. I am so glad you are now my daughter, and I am so very proud of you!
A Note from the Author
My great hope is that Walking Into The Unknown will both entertain, challenge you, and give you courage to face all the seasons of your life. I hope you will learn as much as I did during the months of research it took to write this book. I have about decided it is just not possible to cover an entire year in one book anymore but I actually achieved it this time! As I move forward in the series, it seems there is so much going on in so many arenas, and I simply don’t want to gloss over them.
When I ended the Civil War in The Last, Long Night, I knew virtually nothing about Reconstruction. I have been shocked and mesmerized by all I have learned – not just about the North and the South – but now about the West.
I grew up in the South and lived for eleven years in Richmond, VA. I spent countless hours exploring the plantations that still line the banks of the James River and became fascinated by the history.
But you know, it’s not the events that fascinate me so much – it’s the people. That’s all history is, you know. History is the story of people’s lives. History reflects the consequences of their choices and actions – both good and bad. History is what has given you the world you live in today – both good and bad.
This truth is why I named this series The Bregdan Chronicles. Bregdan is a Gaelic term for weaving: Braiding. Every life that has been lived until today is a part of the woven braid of life. It takes every person’s story to create history. Your life will help determine the course of history. You may think you don’t have much of an impact. You do. Every action you take will reflect in someone else’s life. Someone else’s decisions. Someone else’s future. Both good and bad. That is the Bregdan Principle…
Every life that has been lived until today is a
part of the woven braid of life.
It takes every person’s story to
create history.
Your life will help determine the
course of history.
You may think you don’t have
much of an impact.
You do.
Every action you take will reflect in
someone else’s life.
Someone else’s decisions.
Someone else’s future.
Both good and bad.
My great hope as you read this book, and all that will follow, is that you will acknowledge the power you have, every day, to change the world around you by your decisions and actions. Then I will know the research and writing were all worthwhile.
Oh, and I hope you enjoy every moment of it and learn to love the characters as much as I do!
I’m constantly asked how many books will be in this series. I guess that depends on how long I live! My intention is to release two books a year – continuing to weave the lives of my characters into the times they lived. I hate to end a good book as much as anyone – always feeling so sad that I must leave the characters. You shouldn’t have to be sad for a long time!
You are now reading the 10th book - # 11 (Looking To The Future) will be released in November 2017. If you like what you read, you’ll want to make sure you’re on my mailing list at www.BregdanChronicles.net. I’ll let you know each time a new one comes out so that you can take advantage of all my fun launch events, and you can enjoy my BLOG in between books!
Many more are coming!
Sincerely,
Ginny Dye
Chapter One
October, 1867
Carrie’s eyes opened abruptly as she bolted forward in bed. She willed her pounding heart to slow its erratic beat as she leaned closer to the open window, vaguely aware of the crisp air announcing that autumn had finally conquered the searing heat of a Virginia summer. She hated the fear that made her limbs tremble and her breath come in shallow gasp[GD1]s, but she also knew there was no one on Cromwell Plantation that could afford to become complacent. Especially her…
Forcing her legs to move against the fear, she pushed back the bed covers, stood, and moved to a position next to the window. She would not leave a silhouette that would make her a target, but neither would she just lie there. Pulling back the curtain just enough to peer out, she scanned every inch of the land illuminated by a half-moon riding high in the sky. The outline of the barn made her pulse jump harder, but she pushed down the moment of terror and forced herself to breathe evenly.
She knew there were at least a dozen men guarding the plantation every night. Somewhere beyond the reach of her gaze, hidden by the darkness of the woods, they waited with loaded guns for any threat that materialized. It had been the same every night since the fateful moment when KKK vigilantes had exploded from the trees and changed her life forever.
Carrie didn’t know how long she stood there before she decided there was no threat. She could have been awakened by the sound of a coyote, a neighing horse, or even the hoot of a harmless owl. The silence reigning over the peaceful beauty indicated none of the watchmen shared her concern. She glanced longingly at the opening to the tunnel leading out to the river, but she couldn’t afford to stay up all night. The Harvest Festival would start in just a few hours. Carrie already knew it would take all her energy to endure the day she used to love.
Gradually, she became aware she was trembling from the cold. Her nightgown was no match for the cool breeze flowing through the window. She wouldn’t be surprised if the first frost of the year would turn the world into glistening diamonds by the time the sun rose. She gave one final glance out the window before she turned away and crawled into bed, wishing for the 153rd time that she could snuggle into Robert’s warm body.
She made no attempt to swallow the tears that streamed down her face as she reached out a hand and gently stroked the pillow that should have cradled her husband’s head. Abby had warned her the nights would be the hardest, but the warning did nothing to make the reality less painful. Carrie pulled the pillow closer, buried her face in its softness, and allowed the grief to carry her into a restless sleep.
*******
Carrie could barely hear the sound of rushing water in the distance. As she pushed through the dense fog that threatened to smother her, the sound pulled her forward. She couldn’t identify why it was so important to reach the water… she simply knew she must.
As prickly limbs reached out to grab her, she pushed them aside, vaguely aware that the thorns piercing her flesh resulted in no pain. She paused for a moment, wondering why that was something she wondered about, and then kept on. The water was the only thing she cared about. She must find the water…
“Carrie!”
Carrie paused, impatient when she heard her voice called in the distance. She shook her head and kept moving. Without being able to explain why, she knew the water represented peace. She had to reach the water. A dim glow began to illuminate the fog, allowing her to proceed at a faster pace. As the rushing sound increased to a roar, her heart pounded in resp
onse. Everything would be all right if she could only reach the water. She hesitated as she wondered what had to be made right, but she had no answer, only the compulsion to reach the roaring sound in the distance.
The air began to glow a soft blue as the fog continued to dissipate. The beauty of it wrapped around her, giving her the courage to keep moving.
“Carrie!”
This time she stopped, certain she recognized the voice. “Leave me alone,” she called. “I have to get to the water.”
“Carrie!”
Carrie sucked in her breath as she identified the one calling her. “Robert?”
She didn’t understand why her voice was trembling with disbelief. She also couldn’t fathom why Robert was trying to keep her from the water. “Come with me,” she called, turning back to plunge toward what awaited her.
“Carrie! No!”
Carrie stopped again, certain she could now see Robert’s form in the glowing blue light. Why didn’t he come join her? Why was he holding her back? “I’m going to the water,” she yelled, every particle of her frantic to reach what she realized was a gushing waterfall catching the rays of sun beaming through the fog—splitting the light into every color of the rainbow. She stared in awe as the colors danced in the spray of the water. Calling her… Calling her…
She stepped forward, knowing what she had to do. She had to join in the dance of the colors. She had to merge with the spray of the waterfall.
“Carrie, no!” Robert’s voice became more urgent, his desperation cutting through her intense longing.
Once again she stopped, just short of the final step that would send her into the dance of the waterfall. “Why are you stopping me?” she screamed. Everything would be all right if she simply entered the dance.
The form materialized into the man she loved, but it made no sense because Robert was floating over the waterfall. She stared at him, wondering how her husband could float in the glowing air. “I want to come dance with you,” she whispered, realizing this was what had pulled her forward. She had known Robert was here…here in the waterfall…here…waiting to dance.
“No,” Robert said, his voice quiet now. “It’s not time, my love.”
“I want to be with you,” Carrie breathed. Never had she wanted anything more. “I want to dance with you in the waterfall.”
“You will,” Robert replied, in a voice full of more sorrow than she had ever heard. “But not now, my love. Not now.”
“Why?” Carrie whispered, her heart shattering when she realized Robert was denying her wish. It would take only one step to join the dance.
“It’s not time,” Robert responded, both hands reaching out to her in a gesture of love. “I love you, Carrie. I always will. Never forget it.”
“Robert…” Carrie swayed on the edge of the waterfall.
“There are others who need you,” Robert continued. “You can’t join me now.” His voice increased in its urgency. “You must not join me.”
The love in Robert’s voice, and the intensity in his eyes, caused Carrie to take a step back from the edge. As she did, the glow began to fade, and Robert’s form was made barely visible.
Another step, though everything in her screamed for her to join the dance. Robert’s love was forcing her back.
The rainbow colors evaporated, leaving nothing but cold spray that buffeted her fatigued body. Robert was gone.
Carrie sobbed as she took another step.
The roar of the waterfall dissolved into a vague murmur as the fog settled back in, threatening to once again consume her. She thrashed her arms to beat it away. Desperate to return to the dance of the waterfall, no longer caring what Robert had said, she fought to find her way again.
“Carrie!”
Carrie spun around to identify the voice coming from another direction.
“Carrie!”
Her confusion grew. This was not Robert’s voice. It was a new one calling her. Loudly. Insistently. Lovingly.
“Carrie! Come back! Please come back!”
Carrie glanced over her shoulder once more, knowing the dance of the waterfall was only steps away, and then she moved toward the new voice. Without another sound coming from the fog, she could feel Robert smiling his approval.
The smile broke her heart.
******
Abby was gently stroking her hair when Carrie opened her eyes, confused by the bright sunshine flooding into her room.
“The dream?”
Carrie nodded, the stark reality of the dream rushing through her once more. “Will it ever stop?” she whispered. Part of her longed to have the painful memory fade away. Another part—the biggest part—wanted it to continue forever so that Robert always remained close.
Abby read her thoughts. “Do you want it to stop?” she asked tenderly, her gray eyes full of sympathy and understanding.
Carrie considered the question. “Not yet,” she admitted.
Abby nodded and continued to stroke her hair. “I dreamed of Charles for more than three years. At some point, it became less frequent than every night, but I discovered I longed for the dream when it didn’t come.”
“Because you felt close to him in your dreams, even if wasn’t real?”
“Yes,” Abby said softly. “When they finally stopped, I felt guilty because I was letting him go. I seemed to exchange one regret for another.”
Carrie listened closely, knowing her stepmother was offering her wisdom for the future. “How long did it take?” she asked when the silence stretched out too long. She had been having the same dream every night since Robert had been murdered, but the one she had just woken from seemed somehow more real than the others.
“To let go of the regrets?” Abby cocked her head and stared out the window thoughtfully. “I don’t know,” she finally replied. “One day they were there. Then they weren’t. When I realized it, I knew I was going to be able to move on.”
Carrie tried to push down the wave of revulsion that threatened to swamp her as she envisioned life without the dreams that kept Robert real to her.
Abby took Carrie’s chin and turned it so she could look into her eyes. “It’s too soon to even contemplate it, my dear. And there is no timetable. Every person is different. Just live. Life will unfold as it comes.”
“Carrie! Carrie!”
Carrie managed a smile as a demanding voice floated in through the window.
Abby motioned for her to stay in bed and then moved to the window, her soft blue dress swirling around her slender form. “Good morning, Amber,” she called.
“Good morning, Miss Abby,” Amber yelled back brightly. “Why isn’t Carrie out in the barn? The sun has been up for a while. She’s always out early on Harvest Festival Day!”
Carrie flinched as memories swarmed her mind. She could feel Abby’s eyes on her, but she couldn’t bring herself to look up. She had been dreading this day ever since she and Abby had boarded the train in Kansas to return home. She had been thrilled to arrive back on the plantation, but had no idea how she was going to endure the day that evoked memories sure to tear her heart apart even more.
“She’ll be out soon, dear,” Abby replied. “She slept in a little extra today.”
“On Tournament Day?” Amber exclaimed, disbelief dripping from her words. Just as suddenly, her tone changed to one of smug victory. “I guess I can understand since I beat her last year. She probably knows it will happen again.”
Abby laughed lightly. “I wouldn’t count on that victory quite yet, young lady. There is more than one person who intends to take away your crown.”
Amber waved her hand as she turned back to the barn. “Let them try! Clint and I are getting all the horses ready. Today is going to be a big day! Mister Mark and Miss Susan are coming, and that Mister Anthony is coming to check out the babies he bought this summer.”
Carrie couldn’t miss the excitement vibrating in Amber’s voice. It pushed the painful, more recent memories back a bit. She could remember her
own childish excitement when she had been Amber’s age, although it had been different then. When she was a child, she could do nothing more than dream about being able to ride in the tournament, which was exclusively a male domain. Today, Amber would be competing—riding to maintain the title she had won the year before.
Without warning, the pain surged from within and threatened to swallow her again. She bent over double to hold back the groan of agony that wanted to rip her in half. Abby settled down on the bed next to her and engulfed her icy hand in her warm grip.
“Memories?” Abby asked.
Carrie wanted to hold the pain inside, but she had to talk about it. If she had learned nothing in the past five months, she had learned that. “I met him for the first time the night before the Blackwell Tournament,” she managed, as images of his tall form riding down the drive filled her mind. “He was quite simply the best-looking man I had ever seen. It was very confusing for me. I had never been interested in a man before.”
“You were only eighteen,” Abby murmured, “and your father tells me you were not much like your friends.”
“That would be putting it mildly. I thought Louisa and all her simpering ways were ridiculous,” Carrie said wryly. “It seems decades ago. It’s not possible that it has only been seven and a half years.”
“Robert won the tournament on Granite,” Abby said, inviting her to continue sharing her recollections.
Carrie forced a smile through the tears that clogged her throat. “Yes. He was quite spectacular. The sight of him and Granite thundering toward the rings was something to behold.”
“And he crowned you as his queen that night at the Blackwell Ball,” Abby prompted.
“I thought Louisa was going to spit nails,” Carrie said, filled with awe as she thought about how much had changed. The war had altered her childhood nemesis into a woman she could be friends with, and now they were once again neighbors, as Louisa and Perry fought to bring Blackwell Plantation back to its former glory. “We never know what is going to happen, do we?”
