by Ginny Dye
“The men weren’t trying to kill Robert,” Matthew said. “He got in the way of them trying to shoot Amber.”
Moses looked at him sternly. “You heard what Southerlin said. Those men came over to shoot Robert.”
Matthew shook his head. “I think Stowe decided to take credit for it when his attempt to shoot a harmless little girl killed Robert instead.” He seethed with anger as he thought of his best friend being shot down in cold blood. He gazed out into the darkness, almost wishing the vigilantes would try again so he could play a part in avenging Robert’s death, but he sagged back against the chair, realizing more killing was not the answer.
Moses eyed him for a long moment. The expression on his face said he knew what Matthew was thinking. “Tell me about the Knights of the White Camellia.”
Matthew sighed, wishing he hadn’t started the conversation. He should have just enjoyed the cool breeze blowing soft rain onto the porch. “They are the Louisiana version of the Ku Klux Klan,” he said. He realized he didn’t really need to say anything else. Men were rising up all over the South to fight the Radical Reconstruction plan that had been in full effect since the beginning of May.
Moses remained silent for a long while. “If trouble comes, we will deal with it,” he finally said. “I don’t reckon there is anything else we can do.” He shifted his massive frame in the rocking chair, causing it to creak in protest. “I am going to grow tobacco, I am going to raise my children, and I’m going to make certain Rose can teach her students. There is nothing more I can do right now.” His deep voice somehow managed to be both stoic and bitter.
Matthew nodded. He knew Moses was right. All the man could do was what was in front of him to do. He and Rose had chosen not to start college so they could be here for Carrie, but he also suspected they felt their children would be safer on the plantation. Their decision to leave Cromwell and begin college would probably do nothing but make them more of a target. He was certain they would make that decision when they felt the freedom to move on, but he hoped they could enjoy this time as much as possible.
Matthew eyed Amber again, wondering if she was aware they were on the porch watching her. “Have you heard from Mark and Susan?” They had stayed for a week after Robert’s death, long enough to be there for the funeral, but then they had to return to their own operation the same day he and Janie had returned to Philadelphia.
“Yes. They got all the yearlings back safely. It took four train cars to transport them all, but evidently they are creating quite a stir up in the Shenandoah Valley. I got a letter from them several days ago asking about Carrie and how things are going with the stables and the horses.”
Matthew gazed at him. “How is it going? Everything seems to be running smoothly.”
“It is,” Moses agreed. “Robert trained Clint well, Amber is working harder than ever, and having Miles back has been a godsend.”
Matthew glanced at him when his voice took on a funny tone. “What?”
Moses hesitated before he answered. “I’m just grateful Miles is here. It’s like God knew what was going to happen. Miles knows Cromwell Plantation like the back of his hand, he has the maturity that Clint is still learning, and he loves Carrie so much. It helps that he has known her since the day she was born.” He shook his head. “He even made her eat some of Annie’s biscuits. That was a small miracle.”
Matthew chuckled. “She made me eat one of them,” he confessed.
Moses shrugged. “One is more than she has eaten for a while.”
Matthew frowned. “Is she punishing herself?”
“I wish we knew. We’ve all dealt with grief, but I’ve never seen anyone that seems to have had their very soul ripped out.”
Matthew nodded. “Abby says it is a culmination of everything that has happened in the last six years. Carrie finally reached the end of her endurance.”
“She seems so broken,” Moses murmured. “She has saved so many of us, and now we can’t save her.” He clenched his fists. “I hate feeling so helpless.”
Matthew understood completely. “Carrie is strong,” he said. “She will find her way back to us.” He could feel Moses staring at him in the darkness. The skepticism in his unseen eyes vibrated through the damp air. “I believe that,” he insisted.
“Why?” Moses asked bluntly.
Matthew knew Moses was reaching for hope. “I remember one night down in Rat Dungeon,” he said. “I had held on to hope for so long. I had insisted on living down there so I could dig the tunnel faster. I thought I was strong enough to handle it.” He paused as the memories that still haunted him poured through his mind and almost clogged his throat. “I wasn’t,” he said simply. “I laid down one night, freezing cold and hungry, and I decided I was going to die. I knew how close I was, and I knew that if I quit fighting, I would just die.” His voice caught. He had never told anyone this before.
“Why didn’t you?” Moses asked after a long silence.
“I couldn’t.” Even now Matthew wanted to be able to give a better answer than the one he had. “I wish I could say I had seen a bright light, or that God’s voice spoke to me, but that wasn’t the case. As I was lying there, praying I would die, there was a part of me that simply wouldn’t give up. Was it God? Was it something within me that believed something better was going to happen? Was I simply too stubborn to just give up and die?” He shook his head. “I don’t know. All I know is that I had to get up and keep trying, because I wasn’t able to give up.”
Moses pondered his words for a long while. “So you think Carrie doesn’t have it in her to give up?”
“That’s what I believe,” Matthew agreed. “Carrie is special. She may not care much about living right now, but I believe the time will come when something sparks a desire to live.”
Another long silence settled on the porch. The rain had stopped, and the rumble of thunder was far off in the distance. The noise had been replaced by the harmony of crickets and frogs, interspersed with whinnying horses. The cloying heat had been replaced by a cool air that wrapped around them. Neither man moved, both content to enjoy the night.
A sudden movement caught Matthew’s attention. Carrie was walking down the road toward the stables, her posture both determined and hesitant. He felt the instant Moses noticed her because his whole body tensed.
“She must have walked all the way from the river,” Moses whispered.
Matthew leaned forward, his eyes never leaving her. He watched as she walked within a hundred feet of the barn, the closest she had been since Robert’s murder, and then stopped. He could feel the battle going on in her mind as she gazed at it. You can do it! His mind screamed the message, but he knew it was her own battle to fight. It would have to be nothing but her courage that would carry her past her fear.
Carrie walked several feet closer before she stopped again. An owl swooped overhead, its dark form outlined against the thinning rain clouds. She glanced up and continued to walk slowly, as if her body were encased in deep mud. She seemed to be pressing forward through a thickness so intense it seemed almost impossible to penetrate it.
Matthew gripped the arms of the rocking chair, every particle of him aching for her because he knew what she was having to conquer. You can do it!
When Carrie was only a few feet from the spot where Robert had lain, dying in a pool of his own blood, she stopped again and looked toward the sky.
Matthew could well imagine what she was feeling. Even though he couldn’t see it, he was sure every muscle in her body was trembling with terror and determination. Something had shifted in her. Something had happened by the river that had brought her to this point. He wasn’t sure she could actually walk into the barn, but what she had done was astounding.
Another movement caught his attention. His eyes shot toward the entrance of the barn, widening in amazement when Amber moved out into the darkness.
********
“I’m here, Carrie,” Amber said somberly.
Carrie je
rked. She hadn’t known anyone was in the barn. For a moment she felt a flash of shame at the fear that must be obviously imprinted on her face. She wanted to whirl around and retreat before Amber could feel her pain, but a small voice inside told her Amber understood it better than anyone else possibly could. She remained rooted in place, her eyes fixed on the spot where her husband had been killed.
Amber materialized at her side. “I mostly come in the back way,” she confided, “but when I take the horses out I have to bring them this way. It’s real hard.”
Carrie glanced over at her. “I imagine it is,” she said softly, some small part of her recognizing the agony glimmering in Amber’s voice. She had been so locked in her own pain that she hadn’t been able to feel anyone else’s. It was rather shocking to discover that recognizing the little girl’s pain did not make hers any worse.
Amber’s little hand slipped in hers. “I’ll walk in with you,” she said quietly. “The first time is the hardest.”
Carrie jerked again. She had not planned on going into the barn. She had just wanted to see if she could actually walk up to the spot where Robert had thrown himself on Amber to protect her. She was relieved to discover there was no evidence of blood in the dirt. She knew, of course, that they would have gotten rid of any trace, but the image of it had never left her mind. She stared hard at the spot, trying to envision what must have been going through Robert’s mind when he had felt the bullet enter his back. She swayed for a moment, but tightened her lips as she stared down at her hand encased in Amber’s small black one.
The raucous sound of the crickets and bullfrogs seemed to fade as her mind roared with a refusal to do what was being offered. Suddenly a clear whinny split the air, followed by another one almost immediately. Granite. Carrie’s heart surged forward, but her legs still felt incapable of movement.
Another whinny followed, this one more demanding. She knew her horse smelled her, but she felt something more responding in her heart. Granite was offering her courage. He was calling forth the memories of Robert riding him in the Tournament the day after she had met the man who would become her husband. He was reminding her of the months he had been missing with Robert after both of them had almost died in battle. Her horse’s life was just as entwined with Robert as hers.
As another ringing whinny split the night air Amber tugged firmly on her hand. Carrie took a deep breath, willed her legs to move, and walked into the barn. Her first thought was one of pure astonishment. Walking over the spot…standing in the barn…it was not any more difficult than the thought of it had been. She remembered something Matthew had said earlier in the day, that the grief and pain were like the sky. It simply covered everything in her life. It simply was.
Amber stood quietly as Carrie took deep breaths of the barn scents that had been part of her life for as long as she could remember. She managed a smile when Granite thrust his head over his stall door and bobbed it joyfully. She walked forward, wrapped her arms around his warm neck and hugged him. Though she had been riding him every day for more than a month, this was the first time she had allowed herself to embrace him; the first time she had allowed him to comfort her. His solid warmth seemed to melt through the core of the coldness that had frozen her soul.
Somehow, the step into the barn had released something powerful within her. Just one tiny step, but it had ignited a spark of hope that someday her world might not be controlled by a dark grief that obliterated all the color. She didn’t really feel any better, but she had hope that someday she would.
“All My Heart would like to say hello.”
Amber’s voice broke into her thoughts. Carrie looked over and saw the dark bay filly’s head, the perfect heart-shaped marking glowing in the lantern light. All My Heart’s eyes were locked on her with a bright intensity. Carrie stared at her, wondering what was going on behind the wise eyes. Almost against her will, Carrie reached over to stroke All My Heart’s soft muzzle.
How had she lasted so long away from the horses? Granite evoked such powerful memories of Robert. All My Heart reminded her of the amazing heart of the man who had taken such joy in giving Amber the horse of her dreams. As she gazed around the barn, she realized every horse in it was a reflection of her husband. A reflection of his dreams. A reflection of the life he worked so hard to create when he believed his own hope was gone. As she took a deep breath of discovery, Amber seemed to read her mind.
“I feel Robert in here all the time.” Amber’s voice cracked, but the light in her eyes was steady.
Carrie realized she had been running from every memory of her husband, while Amber had run toward them, innately knowing she would need them to survive the pain. Not for the first time, she wondered where the little girl had gotten her wisdom, but she decided to just be grateful. She walked over to stare outside the barn and beckoned Amber to join her. “Tell me about the new foals,” she invited. She knew several had been born since Robert’s death. The moon breaking through the rapidly dissipating clouds cast enough light to distinguish the shapes milling around in the pasture. Half the herd was in this front field; the rest were in the back.
Amber smiled brightly and slipped her hand in Carrie’s. “There are some mighty fine fillies and colts out there,” she began. “Robert would be so proud of them.”
Carrie accepted the catch in her heart when she heard his name come from Amber’s lips, but she was relieved she could choose to focus on what Amber was saying. She pointed out a chestnut with four white stockings. “That one must be Lightning Lady’s.” The foals were clumped together, with the mares clustered beneath one of the oak trees.
Amber nodded. “That’s right. She was born four weeks ago. She looks just like her mama, and she is just as sweet,” she said proudly, her eyes reflecting the moonlight as she gazed up at Carrie.
Carrie lost track of time as Amber told her about one foal after the other. The sound of her voice, combined with the sweet smells of hay, grain and saddle oil, was a balm to her soul. Matthew had asked her what she was going to do. She had her answer now. She would carry on the legacy Robert had left her. She would raise horses on Cromwell Plantation, building the breeding program into the one she knew Robert had dreamed of.
She pushed down the swell of longing that rose inside her as the memory of being a doctor surged into her mind. That possibility was over. She would never be a doctor.
She had a new path now.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Carrie could hear voices when she walked past the kitchen. She wanted to keep walking, but her stomach said she needed to eat some breakfast. Still, she stared at the closed door for several moments. She had managed to find energy to work with the horses each day for the last month, and there were moments when she actually felt little glimmers of joy when one of the foals learned something new, but anything outside the barn was simply more than she had the strength for. Whatever was being discussed in the kitchen, she simply had no desire to engage in it. A loud rumble in her stomach made her mind up. She was still too thin, but some of the weight she had lost was starting to return. If she stopped to think about it, it seemed somehow wrong that her body could respond in any positive way when her soul still felt so destroyed, but she figured it was just the way it was. She sighed as she pushed open the door and entered the sweltering kitchen.
The back door was open, letting in the sound of singing birds, as well as the aromas of biscuits baking in the cooking shed out back. It was too hot to cook in the house now that the end of July had pounced on the plantation like a horde of bloodthirsty mosquitoes. Each night seemed to bring a thunderstorm. It cooled things off briefly, but the mornings delivered another blistering day thick with humidity that seemed to suck the life from everything. Both Polly and Annie had sweat gleaming on their faces, but it didn’t seem to really bother them that much. She wondered briefly if it had something to do with their African heritage. She was quite certain she couldn’t take many more days of this heat, but she didn’t suspect a break
was coming anytime soon.
Carrie watched as Polly and Annie broke off their conversation abruptly. It didn’t take a genius to realize they had been talking about her, but she didn’t care. She nodded at them absently as she reached for a plate full of bacon and biscuits covered with gravy. She knew Polly was watching her closely, and she could almost feel the moment the older woman decided to say whatever she was thinking.
“There are a few people at the clinic that I don’t know how to help,” Polly said.
Carrie stiffened, but she felt rather detached from the words coming from Polly’s mouth. There was a part of her that knew she should probably have some kind of response, but in all honesty she didn’t care. She glanced at Polly, but didn’t have anything to say. She just wanted to get some breakfast and go to the barn to be with the horses and Robert. She felt that way every day. When she was in the barn, or working with the horses, she felt close to her husband. She resented anything that seemed to keep her from that.
“Did you hear me?” Polly asked with a sharp edge to her voice.
Carrie nodded. She supposed she should say something, even though all she really wanted to do was walk out. “I don’t work at the clinic,” she said before she turned to leave.
“These men are hurting,” Polly said more firmly. “I don’t know how to help them.”
Carrie tightened with anger. “I can’t help them either,” she snapped, rage surging to the surface so quickly it almost frightened her.
“You won’t help them,” Polly replied.
The rage disappeared almost as quickly as it had emerged. The whole conversation was not something she had the stamina for. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, something telling her she probably should be sorry, even if she didn’t mean it. It actually felt puzzling that Polly seemed to think she could help. Whoever the person was that Polly was thinking about, they no longer existed. Carrie started to push through the swinging door, but Annie’s words halted her in her tracks.
