by Ginny Dye
“Robert has been shot by vigilantes.”
Matthew stared at her, the words barely penetrating the fog that had suddenly obscured his mind. “What?” His mind spun. “Robert?”
“Yes,” Janie said, her voice breaking now that she had delivered the news.
“What happened?”
“I told you all I know,” Janie replied. “Thomas sent a telegraph when they arrived in Richmond and received the news. They were headed right out to the plantation, of course. I’ve not heard anything since.”
Matthew nodded. “They wouldn’t have been able to get another telegraph off.” Now that the initial shock was over, he began to process the news. “We have to get there,” he said urgently.
Janie held up a bag he hadn’t noticed before. “I’m ready,” she said evenly. “I have a collection of homeopathic remedies that Dr. Strikener suggested I take.”
“Carrie will be glad to have them,” Matthew said. He narrowed his eyes when Janie hesitated. “What else?”
Janie took a deep breath. “Carrie refused to ride out in the wagon. She rode Granite so she would get there sooner. Captain Jones seemed to believe it was that urgent. They couldn’t stop her.”
Matthew fought to comprehend what her last words meant. He pushed aside what it could indicate about Robert’s condition and focused instead on Carrie. “She’s six months pregnant,” he protested.
Janie’s only response was to hold up her bag, her eyes filled with unspoken fears. ‘I have remedies. Our train leaves in twenty minutes.”
Chapter Twenty
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 response. 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, just 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 plunged to a stop 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 suddenly realized was a gushing waterfall catching every ray 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 waterfalls. 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 with frustration. 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 that 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 softly, 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 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.
Carrie began to thrash her arms to beat away the fog. Desperate to return to the dance of the waterfall, no longer caring what Robert had said, she had 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 followed the sound of the new voice. Without another sound coming from the fog, she could feel Robert smiling his approval.
The smile broke her heart.
********
Abby jolted awake when she realized movement was coming from the bed. She jumped up and rushed forward, Rose close behind her. It had been almost three days since Carrie had lost consciousness. She and Rose had only left her side for brief moments. Her daughter had not once been alone.
A groan burst forth from Carrie’s lips as she began to thrash her arms wildly, but her eyes remained closed.
Abby reached down to hold her arms, knowing sudden movement could burst the sutures holding the incision together. “Carrie,” she murmured. “Carrie, come back to us.”
Carrie groaned again. “Robert!” she suddenly cried, her reedy voice cracked with pain. “Robert! No…don’t leave.” She shuddered and fell silent.
Rose reached out to grab Carrie’s hand. “Come back, Carrie. Come back to us!”
Carrie jerked again and then lay still. Her harsh breathing slowed.
Abby stiffened. Was Carrie dying? Had she gone to be with Robert? “Carrie,” she whispered. “We love you. Please come back to us.”
Dr. Wild opened the door and rushed in, alerted by Annie who had stationed herself just outside the door. He reached down and
felt her pulse, nodding his encouragement to Abby. “She’s coming around,” he said reassuringly. “When someone has been unconscious for so long, it sometimes takes time for them to wake up.”
Abby took hope from his words, but the harsh pain in Carrie’s voice had pierced her heart. What was life going to be like for her if she returned? On the heels of her question came the reality of how wonderful her own world had become. She had thought her husband’s death was the end of her life, but she had survived, grown their business, and now had a loving husband and daughter. She grabbed Carrie’s hand and squeezed it tightly. “Come back, Carrie,” she said, her voice now infused with hope and belief. “We love you. Come back!” Her final words were more of a command than a plea.
Carrie took a long shuddering breath and opened her eyes. For lengthy moments there was a blank expression of unseeing, but she slowly focused on Abby’s face. She stared at her intensely, and then shifted her eyes toward Rose. Then Dr. Wild.
Abby watched the confusion with an aching heart, but she knew the confusion was better than the reality that was about to sink in. It took only minutes before it happened, raw pain filling her daughter’s beautiful green eyes.
“Robert…”
Abby reached out to stroke her hair. “Robert is gone,” she said tenderly, knowing it was best to let her deal with the truth.
Carrie’s eyes shifted back to her. “Yes,” she agreed. “He sent me back to you.” Her voice was faint, but certain.
Abby’s heart filled with gratitude for whatever had happened during the long days they had waited for her to wake up. “I’m glad,” she whispered.
Carrie’s eyes grew confused again. She slid her hand out from Abby’s and reached down to touch her stomach. “My baby?” Her face filled with a wild hope. “My baby. I want to see my baby.”
Abby’s eyes filled with tears as she took Carrie’s hand again. “Your daughter didn’t make it,” she said. “I’m so sorry, Carrie.”
Carrie’s stare was blank and uncomprehending. “My baby? My baby is dead, too?”
Abby couldn’t speak around the vise on her throat. Tears continued to pour down her face.
Rose stepped forward. “I’m so sorry, Carrie. Bridget didn’t make it.”
Carrie’s eyes sought Rose’s face. What she saw there told her the truth. She gasped and seemed to shrink inside herself. “Bridget is dead? My daughter? I killed them both?”
She closed her eyes and slid back into the welcoming darkness.
********
Thomas squeezed his eyes tight with gratitude when Abby brought news of Carrie’s waking, but his heart filled with fresh grief and rage when she told him what his daughter had said. He stood and strode to the edge of the porch, staring out at the offending sunset that somehow seemed to mock his agony with its beauty. “I’ve waited long enough,” he growled.
Moses, Mark, and Jeremy rose to stand beside him. No one had to say a thing. They had talked through their plan during the long hours of waiting.
Thomas turned to look at Abby. The steady look of love in her eyes filled him with courage and resolve. “Your men are ready?” he asked Moses.
“They are,” Moses assured him.
The sun had long set when the twenty men needed for Thomas’ plan were mounted and ready for action. The sound of a lone approaching horseman told Thomas the final piece of the puzzle was just arriving.
The new arrival looked at Thomas when he pulled his horse to a stop. “You’re sure about this, Cromwell?”
“Without a doubt, Sheriff Horn,” Thomas snapped. “It’s been confirmed by several veterans.” He knew it was necessary to emphasize the fact that white war veterans had confirmed his report. In spite of the fact that Moses and his men had seen all the same things, he wasn’t taking any chances on them not being believed—or worse, simply not listened to.
“Let’s go,” the sheriff said, his face indicating he was not excited about the night’s activity.
Thomas tensed with anger, almost certain the sheriff was sympathetic with the vigilantes, but Thomas Cromwell was too important in the area for him to simply be ignored. He raised his hand and led his men down the road in an easy trot. While it was dark, he preferred it be closer to midnight before they made their move. It would be more effective that way.
When they were a few hundred yards from the columned entrance to Granger Southerlin’s plantation, he raised his hand to bring all of them to a halt. It took only a few minutes for them to don the costumes Polly and Annie had created during the interminable wait for Carrie to regain consciousness.
Sheriff Horn scowled when Thomas handed him one. “I don’t want to put this on,” he protested.
Thomas stared at him with a hard gaze. “You said you wanted to know the truth. Do you, or do you not?”
Sheriff Horn hesitated and then pulled on the long white cloak over his uniform. “This is a bunch of nonsense,” he muttered.
“How about telling that to my daughter who just had her husband murdered,” Thomas growled. He took a deep breath, knowing his anger would not make things right. The only way he could begin to deal with Robert’s death, and the death of his granddaughter, was to at least make certain he had justice.
“Let’s go,” Sheriff Horn replied, his face saying he knew he didn’t have a choice.
“The hood, too,” Thomas reminded him as he pulled his own over his head, glad Annie had cut extra-large eye holes in all of them.
********
The Southerlin plantation was shrouded in darkness as the horsemen galloped down the road, making no attempt at secrecy. When they were less than a hundred feet away, all of them began to yell loudly as they lit the fire sticks they were holding. Jeremy jumped off his gelding, raced up the stairs, pounded on the door, and then ran back to mount again. It took only a few minutes before they saw the door open. The yard was illuminated with an eerie glow.
Granger Southerlin stepped out onto the porch, his face a mask of confusion and fear as he stared at the white-cloaked men gathered in his yard, forming a semi-circle around his porch. “What is going on here?” he called, failing at his attempt to sound commanding.
Jeremy had been appointed the spokesperson because Southerlin would not recognize his voice. “Me and some of the boys from the Ku Klux Klan thought we would pay you a visit,” he said in a menacing tone.
“Why?” Southerlin sputtered.
“We’ve been hearing some rather disturbing things,” Jeremy continued in a conversational tone.
Thomas almost smiled when he saw Southerlin stiffen with terror. His smile faded into a scowl as he thought of the fear Robert must have felt when he saw that Amber was about to be shot.
“What kind of things?” Southerlin demanded.
“Well, I suppose you should be the one to tell us,” Jeremy continued. “We had heard you were a loyal patriot of the South, but recent activities reveal that is not true.”
“How can you say that?” Southerlin asked indignantly. “I’ve been doing the work of a true patriot.” He pulled himself erect as he fought to regain control of the situation. “You should be here to thank me.” He had gained an authoritative ring to his voice.
“And just what would we be thanking you for?” Jeremy asked.
Right on cue, Mark said in a stern voice, “We hear you support the black school down the road that has white students. And we hear you are paying black laborers more than the rest of your neighbors do. We’re not pleased.” His ringing accusation echoed off the woods pressing in against the darkness.
“We’ve been sent to warn you of what happens to people who do that,” Jeremy intoned in a somber voice. “We have an agenda for the South. We won’t let anyone stand in the way of accomplishing it.”
Southerlin, confident he was on solid footing, stepped forward to the edge of the porch. “I don’t know who has been telling you those lies, but they are nothing but nonsense,” he said. “Why, I was the one who put together the group that went do
wn and tried to burn that school.” His voice grew more arrogant. “And I also made sure the traitors on Cromwell Plantation paid for what they are doing to destroy the glory of the South.”
“And just how did you do that?” Jeremy snapped in an even more menacing tone.
Thomas smiled grimly as it had its intended effect.
“Robert Borden let the niggers live in his house like they were family, and blacks on that plantation are paid far more than everyone else around here. I sent a group of men over there when I realized we couldn’t burn the school.” Southerlin gave an evil grin. “Borden is dead now. James Stowe put a bullet right through him. I thanked him myself, just yesterday.”
“Is that right?” Jeremy asked, rough anger deepening his voice.
“It’s God’s truth,” Southerlin boasted. He stepped back in shocked surprise as twenty rifles and pistols were lifted and aimed at him. “What…?”
Sheriff Horn lifted the hood off his head. His voice was almost apologetic as he said, “You are under arrest, Southerlin, for aiding a murder and for attacking the school. I will arrest James Stowe in the morning.”
Southerlin’s face froze in furious disbelief. “Why, Sheriff Horn, I thought…”
Thomas decided not to allow him to finish his statement because he didn’t want Sheriff Horn to feel more trapped than he already was. Perhaps the reality that so many had heard Southerlin’s confession would guarantee his punishment. He urged Granite forward and whipped off his own hood. “You’re lucky we don’t shoot you where you stand right now, Granger,” he said, sudden aching pain mixed with his fury. “That was my son-in-law you killed. And my daughter, Carrie, who played with your daughter when they were children, is right now fighting for her life after losing the baby she wasn’t due to deliver until July. The shock of Robert’s death sent her into labor.” His voice deepened. “That’s what your stupid hatred is doing to the South, Granger. It’s destroying what you say you love so much.”
Jeremy whipped off his hood next. “We came in disguise tonight to show you how ridiculous the Ku Klux Klan is. You say you are fighting for the South. All you are doing is ensuring its destruction. Your crazy vendetta is going to bring the military might of the North down on you once again if you don’t change your ways.”
