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

Chapter Nine

Carrie looked up, shocked by the drawn, haggard look on her father’s face as he strode into the house. She watched him for a moment from the shadows of her chair next to the window. She had been sitting there for hours, waiting for him, waiting for some word. There had been rumors...

“Father?” she asked, afraid to hear what he had to say, but having to know.

Thomas turned slowly from where he was putting up his hat. “Hello, Carrie,” he said somberly.

Carrie’s heart sank. “Father, what is it?”

Thomas attempted a smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He moved in the direction of the fireplace.

“Come, sit down here with me.”

She followed him, and when they were both seated in the soft, blue, high-backed chairs, he turned to her.

“A telegram came through this afternoon. Beauregard is confident the battle will be tomorrow. His troops are all in position.”

“Did Johnston make it in time?”

Thomas nodded. “Trains of his troops were still arriving when the telegram reached us.”

Carrie sighed with relief. General Johnston and all of his men had been positioned near Harpers Ferry in western Virginia. Once Davis and Lee had been assured that McDowell was going to focus his attack on Manassas and that General Patterson would not be a threat to the Confederate troops, they had ordered Johnston and his men to join Beauregard for the battle soon to take place.

“That is just one more proof of how important the railroad is to us in that part of the state,” Thomas continued. “Without it, there would be no hope of Johnston getting his men there in time to be of any use.”

He paused. “He is sure there are Union sympathizers in the railroad though.”

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“What?” Carrie asked in surprise.

Thomas nodded grimly. “He said the transport of his troops is taking way too long. The trains sometimes move at barely more than four or five miles per hour, and there have been suspicious breakdowns. He is sure it is deliberate.”

“But most of them are there?”

“There will be some that may not see the battle, but the bulk of them have arrived,” Thomas said with satisfaction.

“Then why the haggard look, Father? It would seem all is going well.” She knew the answer, but she sensed her father needed to talk about it.

Thomas allowed the pain to show on his face. “No matter how well prepared we are, there will be many men who die tomorrow—many men who will not return to their families.” He paused. “I know what it’s like to lose someone your heart is intertwined with. I wish that on no one.”

Carrie watched him sympathetically but felt the clutch of fear in her own heart. What about Robert? Where was he? Would he make it through the battle tomorrow?

Would she ever see him again?

“I’m not sure we’re ready here,” he said after a long silence.

“I thought Lee felt better about the fortifications for the defense of the city?” Carrie asked quietly. She didn’t add anything about the outrage she had felt when she discovered the means by which this had been accomplished. When it had become evident the work on the defense of Richmond was going much too slow due to lack of manpower, Governor Letcher had ordered the militia and the police to round up and commandeer unemployed free blacks to do the needed work. The city was paying them eleven dollars a month, but Carrie knew the pay was inadequate for the degradation attached to the work.

Thomas shrugged his shoulders again and his face took on the weary look she had become familiar with. “We have done all we can do. It will have to be enough. The truth is, though, that it’s not enough. If a strong force were to come against the city, I don’t think we could

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withstand it.” He smacked his fist against his open palm.

“Beauregard must stop them. The Union battle cry is On to Richmond! They must be stopped!”

Carrie wanted to rush forward and comfort her father; however, there was nothing she could say. There were no words of assurance she could give him. All their hopes were resting on an army of men perched on the edge of a battlefield.

The two sat in silence for a long while, only the occasional shrill whistle of a train breaking the quiet. The streets of Church Hill were unusually still that night.

People had retired to their houses early to wait, and to pray.

“Father, could you kill a friend?”

“What?” Thomas asked vaguely, his thoughts jerked back from a long distance.

“Could you kill a friend?” Carrie repeated. Her father’s face asked for more. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. So many of the men who are fighting were once part of the United States Army. Now some fight for the North, others fight for the South. Men who once fought side by side are now going to be fighting each other. How can men plan to kill and destroy other men they once depended on for their own life?”

Carrie’s voice broke as she struggled to explain the feelings that had kept her awake for endless nights.

“General Lee has a nephew who is fighting for the Union.

Will he one day look down the barrel of a gun and have to kill him?” She rushed on. “Matthew is most likely fighting for the North. What if he and Robert meet tomorrow? Will they—” She couldn’t finish. The idea of Robert having to shoot at tall, red-headed Matthew, his closest friend from college, was more than she could bear.

She choked back tears and looked at her father. She didn’t really think he would have an answer. It was more that, on the eve of this battle, she needed to express her feelings. She was half afraid her father would be angry—

think she was being disloyal to the cause—but instead, he was looking at her with understanding.

“In spite of the pressures of being in the government,”

he said, “I have been very thankful I am not on the front

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having to make those decisions. There are many men my age in the army, and I think the number will grow daily if this war drags on. I am sure I have friends and business associates who would be across the lines from me. That question has haunted me as well.”

“Do you think there is an answer?” Carrie asked, somehow reassured by the mute pain on his face.

Thomas winced. “I think that may be one of the questions of life for which there is no answer,” he said.

“At least, not one that can be answered by someone not in that situation. But I do have a theory,” he continued.

“I think it’s possible that in the midst of a battle, men cease to see other men as men. They simply become part of the tactical strategy of war. They are an obstacle that must be overcome.” He paused for a long moment and continued slowly. “Maybe that is what enables men to fight—the ignoring of individual humanity behind each gun.”

The sound of a train pulling out of the station on Broad Street seemed to pull Thomas from his reflective mood. His eyes lost their faraway look and his face hardened. “That, and the knowledge that the cause they fight for is just and right.”

Carrie merely looked at him. The idea that Robert was fighting for a cause he perceived as just and right did nothing to abate her deep concern for him.

Micah appeared at the door to the parlor. “I’ve had the cook keep dinner hot, Marse Cromwell. Wills you be wantin’ to eat?”

Thomas looked up as the clock struck eight. “I suppose I should,” he sighed. “Carrie, have you eaten?”

“I was waiting for you. You need to eat, Father. May’s chicken is wonderful tonight.”

They were halfway through dinner when Thomas looked up with a smile on his face. “I heard about a very unusual woman today.”

“Oh?” Carrie pulled her thoughts back to the dining room with difficulty. She supposed she should be interested in anything that could put a smile on her father’s face. “Who is she?”

“I think you would like her,” he said as he settled back in his chair and lit his pipe. When the smoke was curling

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toward the ceiling, he continued. “She is the wife of Bradley T. Johnson, a Confederate officer from Maryland.

She decided she didn’t want to be left behind while her husband was on the battlefield, so she joined him in Harpers Ferry.”

“They let her?” Carrie asked in amazement.

“I think she didn’t really give them the option,”

Thomas chuckled. “Anyway, the first thing she saw when she got there was that his regiment had no arms. Now, this was back in May,” he hastened to add. “Anyway, she left right away, bound for North Carolina and some influential friends she believed could raise the money they needed for the guns. She didn’t have to ask, however. She presented her case to the governor, who then presented her with five hundred rifles, ten thousand rounds of ammunition and thirty-five hundred musket caps. Once she had those, she came here to Richmond.

Governor Letcher provided her with blankets, tents and other camp equipment. It took her less than a week and a half to accomplish her goal.”

Carrie listened, smiling reluctantly. “She sounds like a remarkable woman.”

“Remarkable, indeed,” her father replied. “One of the men she met in North Carolina paid her quite a tribute.

He told her that if great events produce great men, then what she had done was proof that great events also produce great women.”

As Carrie listened, she was filled with a sudden desire that the same would be said of her one day. It was a feeling she had felt before but never with quite this same intensity and determination. She fought to control the sigh of frustration that wanted to escape through her lips.

She didn’t know how anything like that was going to happen while she was here in Richmond, forced to wait for the outcome of a battle in a war she didn’t believe in.

The last week and a half in Richmond had been very difficult for her. She had watched as the city had grown more and more crowded. Most of the military had moved out to reinforce Beauregard at Manassas. The steady stream of humanity pouring into the city had not ceased, however. More troops were coming in for training and

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assignment. As the new government became firmly established, there was a continual flow of politicians and civil servants. And then there were what her father called the hangers-on—people who had come to Richmond looking for opportunity in the burgeoning city.

The people of Richmond were adjusting now that the initial shock had worn off. They were searching for ways to deal with the rising crime rate, the horrendous overcrowding, and the struggle to provide for so many people. Food, which had always been such a plentiful commodity, was now causing hardship for many people.

“A penny for your thoughts.”

Carrie looked up at her father and tried to smile. “I want to go home.”

Thomas frowned. “I thought we had talked about that.

I thought you understood my feelings.”

Carrie nodded. “I do, Father. I know you would be worried sick with me on the plantation right now. I will stay until the threat is over.” Please let it be over soon.

“But then I am going back home.” Her father’s face took on a mutinous look. “I have to be able to make a difference,” she pleaded. “I am going crazy here. I know the sewing the city women are doing is much needed, but that’s not me. If I have to wrap one more bandage or put stitches in one more shirt, I will scream.”

Her desperate tone forced a smile to her father’s face.

“Sewing was never one of your strong suits,” he admitted.

He looked at her more closely. “What will you do back on the plantation, Carrie?”

It was a fair question, and one she had an answer for.

She had thought about it long and hard. “I will plant food,” she said. “Governor Letcher has let it be known how scarce food is becoming—that fresh produce has become a luxury in our city. It never used to be that way, Father. I want to do what I can to help.”

“But our garden is not that large,” Thomas protested.

“It will help, but it will just be a drop in the bucket.”

Carrie chose her words carefully. “Isn’t it true that the value of tobacco has dropped drastically because of the river port blockade? Didn’t you tell me that huge stacks of tobacco are in danger of rotting because they cannot be moved?”

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Thomas frowned and nodded. “I did.” Understanding dawned on his face, and he began to shake his head.

Carrie hurried on before he had time to launch his protest. “I can plow up some of the tobacco fields. Just a couple would mean space for an incredible amount of produce crops.” She hurried on. “Think what it would mean for Richmond. Think what it would mean for the cause.” She paused, almost ready to laugh as her father’s protest died before her eyes. How could he fight her on this? “I need to make a difference, and this is one way I can help. I can feed people. When the war is over, you can plant the land in tobacco again.”

“It’s late in the year to plant produce,” Thomas observed.

Carrie controlled her triumphant smile. “I know,” she agreed. “I’ve thought about that. The Almanac is promising a mild fall. I’ll only plant crops that have a short maturation—potatoes, squash, carrots, beans, lettuce. The fields at Cromwell can help make a huge difference.”

Thomas nodded slowly. “I will send a letter back to Adams telling him I agree with your plan.”

Carrie said nothing. How long would she be able to pull off this deception?

The mention of Adams’ name sent Thomas off onto another tangent. “I don’t know how long Adams will be able to stay on the plantation. There may be times when he will have to be away.”

“Why?”

“Right now overseers are exempt from having to serve in the army. There is concern over what would happen if they weren’t there to control the slaves, but there is a continuing need for men to serve in the Virginia militia.

They are needed to protect our own state, but they are also needed to keep a handle on the slaves and round up runaways.”

“I see,” Carrie murmured.

“I’m not sure you do,” her father said sharply.

Carrie looked at him in shock. They had not spoken of slavery again since her first night there, but he had

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seemed to accept what she felt, even though he didn’t agree with it.

“I’m sorry,” Thomas said. “I didn’t mean to sound that way. In addition to getting the news about the battle tomorrow, we also received a report today that the number of runaway slaves is escalating. They seem to think that war with the North means their freedom is imminent.”

Carrie listened, hearing both anger and a twinge of fear in her father’s voice.

“Carrie, we could have chaos if the slave situation gets out of hand. Governor Letcher is assigning more men to keep a handle on things. Adams will not be taken from the plantation yet, but there may be times he will be pulled away to help in a crisis situation. Do you think you will be able to take care of things?”

At least this was something she could answer honestly. “Father, you don’t have a thing to worry about.

I will keep everything under control. Why,” she continued with a confident smile, “if Adams was pulled away right now, I believe the plantation would run as smoothly as it has been.”

Thomas studied her. “I believe you mean that.” He shook his head and laughed. “I hope you don’t have to find out. Or me, either,” he added. “It does my heart good to get reports as fine as the one you brought me from Adams when you first got here. It gives me a great deal of peace to know that all I’ve worked for is continuing in my absence.”

Carrie nodded, wondering what in the world her father’s reaction was going to be when he discovered the truth. Maybe she should have been honest with him from the beginning. The longer she played this game, the tighter the web she seemed to be weaving for herself. But when she tried to envision the plantation with another overseer, she couldn’t do it. Her father had said himself that things were running wonderfully. She would continue on until necessity changed the path she was walking.

Unbidden, Aunt Abby’s face floated into her mind.

What she wouldn’t give to sit down for a good talk with her friend. The woman had a way of helping Carrie see

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things clearly. She had received no mail from her since April, though, and there was no way of knowing when she would.

Thomas pushed away from the table. “I have some paperwork I need to take care of before I call it a night.

Will you please excuse me?”

“Of course,” Carrie said, rising also. She watched her father as he disappeared into his office, and then she turned toward the front porch. She needed some time alone outside. She longed to be on the plantation right now. How she needed a good ride on Granite. A long ride would surely help clear the cobwebs from her head.

There was a light breeze blowing as she settled down onto the porch swing. She could hear the occasional murmur of a voice from surrounding porches, but other than that, the night was silent. Even the crickets seemed to be quiet tonight. As she looked up at the brilliant full moon, she wondered if Robert was looking at the same sight.

A slight movement from the shadows caused her to jump. She leaned forward to peer into the darkness.

“Who’s there?” she called.

“It be me, Miss Carrie,” came the quiet whisper from the shadows.

“Micah?” Why was her father’s butler skulking in the shadows?

His dark form materialized in front of her. “I’se got somethin’ for you, ma’am.”

Carrie reached for the letter he was holding out to her.

There was no return address on the thick envelope. “Why didn’t you give this to me when the mail came, Micah?”

Her voice was not angry, just puzzled.

“This here didn’t come through the mail, Miss Carrie.”

“But...” Carrie paused, looking at the handwriting in the dim light from the window. Could it really be? “How did it get here?” she asked breathlessly.

“Let’s just say a friend brought it, Miss Carrie.” With those whispered words, Micah melted into the shadows and disappeared.

Carrie stared at the envelope for a long moment and then carefully stuffed it in her dress pocket, making sure

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no edge of it betrayed its presence. She didn’t want her father asking questions. Confident it was hidden, she turned and hurried into the house. She paused for a moment by the office door. “I’m going up to bed now, Father. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Thomas looked up absently and gave her an affectionate smile. “Goodnight, dear.”

Once in her room, Carrie turned up the lantern next to her bed and more closely examined the handwriting.

She tore into the envelope and pulled out the thick sheaf of pages.

The first words from Aunt Abby were enough to cause tears to begin coursing down her face. She had no idea how this letter had reached her hands. All she knew was that it was a gift from heaven. She read on eagerly.

Dearest Carrie,

What we have dreaded has really come to pass.

Our beloved United States is at war—brother and friend fighting brother and friend. The ache in my heart has become a constant presence. I find myself thankful that my dear husband died before he could see such a thing come to pass.

I am sure you are wondering just how you are receiving this letter. My heart has been so troubled that our correspondence has been cut off. I find myself reading the same letters over.

Carrie laughed and brushed the tears away. She could almost see Aunt Abby’s eyes light with laughter as she made her admission. She was so glad to know her friend was doing the same thing she had been doing.

I have grand news for you, Carrie. Miles, Sadie, Jasmine, and the rest of the Cromwell slaves have safely reached Canada.

“Oh, God, thank you.” Carrie bowed her head for a long moment before she raised her shining eyes to continue reading.

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All of them have found employment and are doing well. Miles was able to smuggle a letter to me via the Underground Railroad. That’s when I discovered their usefulness as a mail service. Miles and the rest asked me to send a letter on to Rose. When I realized the possibilities, I asked my contact if it would be possible to send a letter to you in the same way. I have no way of knowing how long this letter will take to get to you, but I have confidence it will indeed get there.

Carrie stopped reading and looked at the date at the top of the letter. June 10, 1861. Aunt Abby’s letter had taken almost six weeks to make its way to her.

My dear, I think of you so often. How I wish we could sit down for a long talk. You’ve told me before that I help you think clearly. You do the same for me.

How easy it would be to get caught up in the war fever that is sweeping the North, especially my beloved Philadelphia. Everywhere the cry is rising, On to Richmond! How my heart fails me to think of harm coming to you or your loved ones.

My heart seems to stay in a quandary of confusion when I think of this war. I hold hopes that one of the end results will be the abolition of slavery, yet my heart knows there was a better way to accomplish that goal than this horrible task of fighting. All around me, I see people gearing for war, and yet Lincoln makes no move toward announcing the abolition of slavery. He insists that if the South sees the errors of their ways, he will not tamper with their “property.” Yet the South insists they are fighting this war over the rights to their property.

Is this war not really being fought because men allowed their passions, instead of their heads, to rule them? Is it not really being fought because once more men are being guided by the narrowness of their humanity, instead of allowing God to guide them? I shudder to think of the death and pain that will result from this latest fall of mankind.

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Carrie nodded as she read. As usual, she and Aunt Abby were on the same track. Oh, how good it was to communicate, even in this limited way, with someone who shared her heart.

I find myself constantly questioning the will of God in all this. Is it God’s will for the North to win the war? The South? I have finally decided I am not wise enough to know the mind of God in this. He has instead shown me that it will be best to simply ask what his will is for me. If I can determine the answer to that on a daily basis, then, no matter what is going on around me, I can be at peace and know I am being all I can be.

There are so many times I feel intense anger in my heart towards the people who have caused this awful war we must now suffer through. But then I must ask myself: Where do I place the blame? I have come to believe that most people, seeing life from their own perspective, think they are doing the very best thing they can. Others, including myself, may think they have the ability to see things more clearly, and maybe we can, but a person can only act from their own perceptions. I find myself more able to find understanding and acceptance of people when I remember that.

Once again, the tears flowed down Carrie’s face. How had Aunt Abby known her heart so well? How was it possible that an answer to her inner struggle could arrive at just the right time? Carrie knew the answer and her heart was thankful.

How I wish I could sit across from you and ask you all the questions I long to. I wonder if you are still on the plantation. I wonder if your father has discovered your little deception yet. I wonder what you have done with your love for Robert Borden. So many questions and no answers. I find myself giving you to God on a daily basis. It is all I can do.

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I thought you might wonder what has happened with Matthew. His heart has been so torn by the coming of war. I’m sure you have heard of the talk of western Virginia and their desire to pull away and be a separate state from the rest of Virginia.

Matthew firmly believes that the diverse opinions are irreconcilable. Though his roots are in Virginia, he cannot bring himself to fight against the North he has grown to love. Neither can he stand the thought of bearing arms against family and friends. Matthew is one of the lucky ones. So many are not being given a choice in the matter. They are expected to fight.

Matthew, however, has been assigned as a war correspondent for the Philadelphia Enquirer. He feels it is the best solution for him in the midst of an impossible situation. He is gone much of the time, but he is still kind enough to stop in occasionally. He has become like a son to me.

Carrie smiled as she thought of Matthew. She had liked him the minute she laid eyes on him. His ready smile and friendly, open nature had made him many friends. He and Robert had been college roommates in Philadelphia. Their friendship had remained strong, even though they had stood on separate sides of the issue now dividing the country. It relieved her to know Robert would not have to battle against his friend.

I find myself looking back with such longing for the carefree days of last summer when you arrived on my doorstep with Natalie and Sally. It seems like another lifetime now. Speaking of my niece, Natalie brings up another point of sorrow for me. My family simply cannot understand why I have not returned home to stand with Virginia. It horrifies them that I have chosen to remain in Philadelphia. Explanations of the necessity of being here to run my business have fallen on deaf ears. It infuriates them even further that I have not taken sides in this horrible war. Of course, I am no longer able to have communication with them. I hardly think they would

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welcome a mail carrier from the Underground Railroad.

Once again Carrie laughed. Aunt Abby still had her sense of humor intact. Or at least she had six weeks ago.

How was she feeling now that the first major battle was about to take place?

I would love to ramble on, but I must have this letter ready to go in just a few minutes. My contact is waiting for me to bring it to him. Business continues to go well—the best it has been in years.

It seems war can be a boon for the economy. I think it is not worth the cost of lives, but no one is asking my opinion.

I love you, Carrie. I long for the day when we can be together again, whether in a united country or a divided country at peace. My prayers and thoughts will remain with you always.

Love,

Aunt Abby

Carrie sighed and laid aside the last page of Aunt Abby’s letter. Turning down the wick in her lantern, she laid back against her pillows, allowing the warm darkness to envelop her. She would read this letter over and over, but for now, she would simply allow the words to flow through her, content with the knowledge that God had answered the cry of her heart and given her contact with her friend.

Tomorrow, she would write a reply. She was sure Micah would find a way to send it on for her. It didn’t matter how long it would take—it was simply good to know it would get there someday.

Just before her eyes closed in sleep, her thoughts returned to Robert. Would he make it through the battle tomorrow? Her last waking thought was a prayer.

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