Storm Clouds Rolling In & On To Richmond (Books 1 & 2 in the Bregdan Chronicles) by Ginny Dye - HTML preview

Chapter Two

Laughter rang out in the still evening air. Carrie smiled and walked faster in the direction of the quarters.

She was ready to have some fun. Buried under mounds of papers and receipts all day, she had just a few minutes ago pushed herself back from her father’s desk. There was still correspondence to take care of, but she had determinedly turned her back on it. There would always be too much to do. She was learning that she had to set limits somewhere. Sarah had invited her down for dinner a week ago, and nothing would make her miss it.

Carrie’s smile widened as she broke out into the clearing surrounded by the slave cabins. It looked as if most of the plantation’s children were there, playing a rousing game of chase. Shrieks of laughter and shouts of triumph or defeat filled the air as lithe bodies darted in and out of the shadows and around the trees bordering the edge of the clearing. Carrie paused for a long moment to watch the activity and listen to the happy sounds.

Suddenly one of the children, a young girl named Hannah, spied her and dashed over to where she was standing. As if remembering her manners, she came to an abrupt standstill. She quickly smoothed her faded red dress and patted at her tight braids before she grinned up at her. “Howdy, Miss Carrie.”

“Hello, Hannah. Sounds like y’all are having a fine time.”

“Oh, yessum! We be having a passel of fun!”

Carrie laughed at the excited pleasure in Hannah’s eyes. This little girl with her glowing ebony skin and wide grin had always been one of her favorites. Her mama and daddy worked as field hands. Hannah had been born on the plantation.

Hannah’s clear eyes suddenly clouded over. “Miss Carrie?”

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“Yes, Hannah?” Carrie stooped down so that she would be more on the level of the small child. She knew what she was going to ask.

“How be Jubal? Is he going to be all right?”

Carrie patted Hannah reassuringly on the shoulder.

“Jubal is going to be just fine,” she said. “I checked on him this morning. His fever is going down, and he is starting to eat a little bit of food. I predict he’ll be playing with you again in a few days.”

Hannah looked up into her eyes for a few moments and then nodded as if satisfied. “That be good,” she said shortly. Then she turned and dashed back into the wild game.

Carrie laughed and watched her for a few minutes.

Jubal was Hannah’s older brother. Somehow the little girl had missed the latest sickness being passed around among the quarters’ children. They weren’t sick very often, but when something hit, they all seemed to share it.

“Miss Carrie!”

Glancing up at the sound of her name, Carrie moved toward the cabin at the far end of the clearing. It was small, but it was much larger than the other cabins that housed the Cromwell Plantation slaves. Carrie had asked Moses to build it during the month of December, not telling him the purpose for it. He and Rose had been shocked to discover it was Carrie’s wedding gift to them.

“Hello, Sarah. How are you tonight?”

“Ain’t got no reason to be complainin’, and I done got me a heap of reasons to be thankful. I reckon that makes me be doin’ just fine, Miss Carrie. It sure be good to see you, girl. I was afraid you weren’t goin’ to make it here.”

Carrie leaned down to give the tiny, wrinkled woman a gentle hug. “I wouldn’t miss one of your dinners for anything, Sarah.”

She could feel her spirits lifting as she entered the cabin Rose and Moses called home. Sarah had insisted she fix dinner there tonight so all of them would have more room. Carrie sniffed appreciatively as she entered the room. “Sweet potato pie! My favorite. I was hoping we would have some tonight.”

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Sarah smiled and settled down in the rocker next to the front door. “It will be ready right soon. I picked fresh greens today and found a mess of new potatoes that be roasting on the coals. I even had Moses bring me a slab of ham.”

Carrie glanced over at the table. “Are those biscuits I see there?” she asked hopefully, feeling like a small girl again. There was never a week that had passed by without her coming down to the quarters for some of Sarah’s biscuits slathered with butter.

Sarah snorted. “You know without askin’ what them be, chile. You think ole Sarah gonna be fixin’ you a meal without biscuits?”

Carrie smiled and settled back in another chair. “How are my patients?”

“They goin’ to be right as rain in a few days, Miss Carrie.”

“Do I have time to check in on them?”

“You down here to eat, not play doctor.” Sarah’s voice was stern, but her bright eyes glowed with approval.

Carrie stood and leaned down to kiss her leathery ebony forehead. “It won’t take me long. I’ll be able to relax better when I see how they’re doing for myself.”

Sarah smiled. “You gonna be one crackerjack doctor one o’ these days, girl. You mark my words.”

Carrie tried to push down the feelings of frustration at Sarah’s words. She really was content here on the plantation—at least most of the time. She knew she was where she was supposed to be, but her dream continued to dance before her almost daily. More than anything in the world, she wanted to be a doctor. Her mother’s death and the beginning of the war seemed to have dashed all hopes of it ever happening, but still she dreamed. Still she hoped. Still she clung to the belief that she would someday be able to leave the plantation. There had to be a chance for her to follow her dreams.

The sun was dipping below the tops of the towering oaks surrounding the clearing when she approached the tiny cabin she used as an infirmary. Having Sarah always in the quarters was a wonderful blessing. For several years she had been the quarters’ mammy. Someone had

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to be responsible for the children who were too young to work in the fields. They all adored the tiny old woman with the big heart who gave them so many hugs.

“Good evening, Jubal,” Carrie said as she entered the darkening cabin. “How are you feeling?”

Jubal, a strapping lad of eleven with an easy grin, lifted himself up on one arm and looked at her. “I be feelin’ right much better, Miss Carrie. That stuff you done gave me was like some kind of magic.”

“I feel that way about it sometimes myself, Jubal,” she laughingly agreed. “That magic is called yarrow.”

Jubal nodded. “Miss Sarah was tellin’ me ‘bout it. Said y’all fetched it from out in the woods.” He shook his head in wonder. “‘Magine that! An old weed keepin’ me from bein’ sick.”

Carrie laughed again. “I used to think they were old weeds myself. That is, until Sarah taught me how to use their magic. There are still regular medicines I use, but sometimes the magical herbs—that’s what I call them—

work better than anything else. Yarrow works well at bringing down fevers. That, combined with the ice baths Sarah gave you this morning, seemed to have done the trick.” She looked with satisfaction at the renewed shine in his eyes as she placed a hand on his forehead.

She turned to the other bed. “And how is our other patient doing tonight, Adam?” She reached her hand out and laid it on his forehead. “Still fighting with that fever are you?” His thin face was hot and drawn.

Adam, a wiry little seven-year-old, nodded wearily. His attempt at a smile failed miserably. “I reckon so, Miss Carrie,” he whispered.

Smiling gently, she sat down on the edge of his rough bed. “You’ve only been sick for today, Adam. It seems to take a couple of days for the worst part of this to pass. I predict you’ll be feeling better tomorrow.”

Adam nodded again but watched her with his dark eyes. It was obvious it took too much effort to say anything. Carrie moved over to the table she had set up next to the window and reached for the bottle of dried leaves she had left there earlier in the morning. Taking a precise amount, she mixed two small glasses with the water Moses had drawn for her from the well and handed

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them to her two young patients. “Drink all of this down.

It will make you feel better.”

Jubal and Adam drained the liquid without a murmur of complaint. Carrie patted them both on their heads and moved toward the door. “I have to go now. Jubal, your mama will be over in just a little while to spend the night with you two. She knows to come get me if I’m needed.”

She fixed a warm smile on her littlest patient. “Adam, try to get a good night’s sleep. You’ll feel much better in the morning.”

“Yessum, Miss Carrie.”

Rose was just walking up to the cabin when Carrie emerged into the waning light. “Mama sent me over to get you. She said if you want hot biscuits, you better stop doctoring and start thinking about eating.”

Carrie laughed and lengthened her stride. “I’m ready to think about nothing but eating.”

Sarah was just setting her pan full of biscuits on the table when Rose and Carrie burst through the door laughing and out of breath.

Sarah looked at them with a smile of satisfaction.

“That’s the way life’s done meant to be lived. The good Lord done made us to laugh. There be plenty of times when the heart be too heavy to laugh, so’s you got to take advantage of them times when you can laugh. It done makes the soul strong for dem times when you can’t.”

Carrie took her place at the table next to the window that overlooked the quarters. All of the children had been called in to eat their own suppers, so for a few minutes, peace reigned. A chorus of frogs and crickets had come out to herald the arrival of night. The first fireflies were flashing their magical lights through the thick underbrush of the surrounding woods, an occasional one darting into the clearing as if it dared one of the children to try and capture its mystic incandescence. Carrie could feel herself relaxing.

Sarah had just turned toward the table with the first plateful of food when Moses strode through the door, his massive body blocking all light from the waning dusk. A single candle flickering on the table cast a tiny circle of light. Rose stood to meet him with a kiss and then moved

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over to light the lantern. Soon the room was filled with a warm glow that turned the rustic cabin into a warm, comforting place.

Moses gave a sigh of contentment as he settled down in front of the huge plate of food Sarah placed in front of him. “Looks great. And I already know how it’s going to taste.”

Sarah smiled and moved back to fill the next plate.

Within moments, the table was groaning under the weight of the plates she had placed in front of all of them.

Carrie had learned long ago not to complain at the amount of food put in front of her. She always managed to clean it up. And she always felt like she was waddling home. But she was always happy.

After a brief blessing, there was silence for a long while. Finally, Moses pushed back from the table and patted his stomach. “You outdid yourself that time, Sarah. Thank you.”

Sarah smiled at her son-in-law. “Does a heart good to see her cookin’ eaten. I hope you done saved room for some sweet potato pie.”

“Since when do I need room for your sweet potato pie?

There will never be a time in my life that I won’t find some extra space for that.” Moses laughed.

Just then there was a timid knock at the door.

“It’s open,” Moses called.

No one was surprised that someone was at the door.

Moses had become the undisputed leader of the quarters, Rose was revered by all as the teacher, and Sarah was who everyone came to when there was a need. There was hardly a night they got through dinner without someone coming by.

The door opened to admit a dark-skinned woman of average height. Her dress, which had once fit her loosely, now seemed to clutch at her mid-section.

“Opal, you’re here just in time to have some pie,”

Sarah said warmly.

“Oh, no,” Opal protested. “I didn’t come to disturb your dinner.” She clutched tighter at a piece of paper she held in her hand. “I can come back later.”

“Nonsense,” Rose said, rising to pull another ladder-back chair forward. “We were just finishing. And you will

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too have a piece of pie,” she added firmly. “You know how much you love it.”

Opal smiled then. “Well, if you insist. Sarah, you do make the best pie in Virginia.”

Sarah snorted but smiled with pleasure. She stood and moved toward the table where the pie waited. “Get on with you, girl!”

Rose turned to Opal again. “What do you have there, Opal?”

Carrie was surprised when Opal turned to her eagerly.

“It was you I came to see, Miss Carrie.”

“What can I do for you?” Carrie asked. She had never seen Opal so agitated. Or maybe she was just excited.

There was a light in her eyes Carrie had never seen and her ample body seemed to be trying to control a quiver.

Opal looked down at the paper she had in her hand.

“My cousin up in Richmond sent me this letter. Sam done brung it to me today. She gave it to him when he was there last week.”

“Sam brought it to me today,” Rose corrected. She was always the teacher.

“What did the letter say?” Carrie asked.

Opal took a deep breath as if she were gathering all her courage. Then she looked Carrie straight in the eye.

“You remember telling us slaves that if we wanted to be free, we could be?”

“I do.”

“Did you mean it?”

“Of course she meant it,” Moses interrupted. “You know that. You know that twelve of the Cromwell people have left in the past few months. What are you asking a question like that for?”

Opal looked down at the ground. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

Carrie hastened to ease her embarrassment. “That’s all right, Opal. I can tell you’re very excited about something. What is it?” she asked gently.

Opal seemed to gain renewed courage from her words.

“Like I said, I got this letter from my cousin. She’s free and living in Richmond. Seems like they need extra people at the Tredegar Iron Works and at the State

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Armory. She told me slaves are coming in from the country, hired out by their owners to work there.” Opal paused and looked at Carrie. “I want to go to Richmond to work, Miss Carrie. I’ll send you back the money I make.

And maybe”—she hesitated—“maybe I can earn enough extra to pay for my freedom.”

“You don’t have to pay for your freedom,” Carrie protested. “I’ve already promised you can go free when you want.”

“Your father know he’s losing a lot of his slaves?”

“Well…” Carrie decided to be honest. “No, he doesn’t.”

“What’s he gonna do when he finds out?”

“I have no idea,” Carrie confessed. “I’m sure he won’t be happy, however. That’s not what’s important, though.

I don’t believe slavery is right, and I happen to be the one in charge of Cromwell Plantation. How my father reacts is my problem, not yours.”

Opal shook her head. “I don’t aim to be causing no problems for you, Miss Carrie. I done already know that your father don’t know about what you’re doing.” She smiled. “I think it’s wonderful. But my running away to freedom won’t help anyone, ‘cause it’s to Richmond I intend to run. Somebody there will see me and maybe say something to your daddy. That would ruin everything here for everyone else. I ain’t gonna do that.”

What she said made sense. It was obvious Opal had thought through this. “Let me get this straight. You want me to hire you out to work at the armory or the iron works? Where are you planning on living?”

“My cousin has a place down at the bottom of Shockoe Hill. She said they have room for me. She and her husband have four children, but they want me to come.”

“And you want to go?”

“Yes, Miss Carrie. I want to go.” There was a set look of determination on her face and a shine in her eyes that spoke of something more than Opal was saying.

Carrie opened her mouth to press further but thought better of it. She had offered all of her slaves freedom. If Opal was turning down freedom to protect the rest of the slaves, Carrie would agree to let her be hired out. Slowly she nodded. “I will arrange for you to be taken to

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Richmond, Opal. Sam is going into town next week. You can go with him then.”

Opal’s face lit with a glorious smile as a sigh of relief exploded from her lips. “Oh, thank you, Miss Carrie.”

“You’re welcome,” Carrie said. “And just remember, Opal, your freedom is yours when you want it.”

Carrie sighed as she ran the ivory-handled brush repeatedly through her long black hair. It still felt better when it was done for her, but she had determined months ago to take care of herself. It was hard to even imagine that she had once had everything done for her—her baths drawn, her clothes selected and laid out, her hair brushed and arranged. At one time, Rose had done it all for her. Carrie’s time in Philadelphia with Aunt Abby had changed all of that. Wealthy enough to pay for any services she desired, Aunt Abby chose to care for herself.

Carrie’s face grew sad at the thought of Aunt Abby.

She missed her terribly. Most of the time it seemed as if she actually were her aunt, and not the aunt of one of her close friends. The month she had spent in her home the summer before was one of the most special memories of her life. The two had connected on a deep level, attracted by the honesty and independence they found in each other. The age difference between them had melted away as they spent hours in heart-to-heart conversation.

Carrie allowed herself to imagine what she would be doing right now if she had been free to accept Aunt Abby’s invitation to come and spend several months with her, pursuing her dream of becoming a doctor. Her mother’s illness and subsequent death had aborted all those plans. Carrie had become the mistress of Cromwell Plantation. How many times she had longed to walk away from her responsibility and follow her dream. There had been time before the war started to simply tell her father he must hire a new overseer, and then she could have

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moved to Philadelphia and started her education.

Knowing she was where she was supposed to be sometimes did nothing to ease the pain of her situation.

She had struggled earlier when she had walked home from the quarters. She was excited Opal was going to have a new beginning in Richmond. She had had to fight a creeping bitterness that nothing new was on the horizon for her. Only laughing at herself had finally helped her to gain perspective. How could she be jealous of a slave? Opal, no matter what she did in Richmond, would know she was a slave. Carrie had to keep reminding herself she had options. She could leave the plantation any time she wanted to. She knew her father would understand. It was her choice that kept her here.

She could either make the best of it, or continue to grumble.

Reaching into her dressing table drawer, Carrie pulled out a thick sheaf of letters. Turning the lantern up a little brighter, she flipped through page after page of letters Aunt Abby had sent. Their correspondence had been a saving grace for Carrie as she struggled to fulfill her responsibilities and duties on the plantation. Now even that had been taken away. Lincoln had ordered all mail service halted between the warring states.

More than ever, Carrie yearned for a good long talk with her friend. Was she making the right decisions?

Carrie knew Aunt Abby would give her no answers, but she would ask all the right questions so that Carrie could examine her heart clearly and know what she really believed, what she really wanted, and what would be the best course of action. Sometimes it was so difficult to see a situation clearly when you were immersed in it. You could so easily lose sight of the goal when the surrounding problems pressed in so tightly that they obscured the view.

Oh, God...

It was sometime later when Carrie lifted her head, sensing the peace that she could find only in talking with God. Her reflection in the huge, ornately gilded mirror on her wall flickered back at her. She began to run the brush through her hair once again. She would take one day at

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a time. She would do the best she could. She could do no more, and no more was expected of her.

Carrie’s heart nearly failed her at times when she tried to look far into the future, but, one day at a time. Most of the time she was sure she could make it through just one more day.

Gazing more deeply into the mirror, Carrie smiled at her reflection. As the soft breeze swirled around her, once more she tried to fathom the secrets and mysteries hidden in the mirror. She had sensed them there ever since she was a young girl. She would spend hours staring into its clear depths, trying to imagine what secrets her great-great-grandmother had bestowed upon the mirror, and whether she, her great-great-granddaughter, would be found worthy to know the secrets.

Carrie knew the heritage the mirror had bequeathed to her. She knew that it stood as a six-foot-tall, gilded symbol of courage and determination and the will to carve the life you wanted out of impossible circumstances. It stood as a challenge before her all of her life. Each night it spoke to her, urging her on to be all she could be and to not give in to the circumstances of life.

Tonight it spoke to her once again, but in a different way. The mirror issued the same challenge as always, but as she stared into it, it seemed to offer back the courage she would need to meet those challenges. The flickering lantern light, tossed about the room by the billowing of her long drapes, seemed to sink deep into the mirror and come shooting back out at her, offering more radiance on its way out than on its way into the depths. Carrie sat quietly, absorbing the strength and courage it was offering her tonight.

She felt awed, sensing that she had discovered one of the secrets of the mirror. If she could see herself reflected, and feel comfortable and confident about the condition of her heart, the mirror would reach out and give her the strength necessary to follow the dictates of her heart.

Carrie reached over to lower the wick on the lantern.

Moving over to her bed, she slid gratefully under the covers. She sighed as the soft warmth of the bed

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welcomed and cradled her tired body. Just as she rolled over to bury her head in her pillows, a burst of song reached across the night and crept through her window.

Carrie sat up to hear more clearly. She knew it was from the quarters.

On certain nights, when the breeze blew just right, the sounds of the Cromwell Plantation people singing would rise to her window. Closing her eyes, she listened closely.

Swing low, sweet chariot

Coming for to carry me home

Swing low, sweet chariot

Coming for to carry me home.

I looked over Jordan and what did I see Coming for to carry me home

A band of angels coming after me Coming for to carry me home.

Carrie smiled and snuggled deep into her covers. No unbidden thoughts would bother her tonight.

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