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

Chapter Eleven

Opal moved her feet in time to the music pouring from Eddie’s fiddle. She’d been at her cousin’s house for only a few weeks, but already she felt like one of the family. A wide smile lighted her face as little Sadie, her beautiful eyes snapping with delight, played a ditty with her spoons. Spoonin’ had always been one of Opal’s favorite things. She leaned back in her chair as Susie’s clear soprano burst forth into song.

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.

Tears sprang into Opal’s eyes as Susie’s voice transported her back to the small clearing in the quarters. Barely a night had gone by that voices had not been raised in song that would float over the treetops and give them all hope that someday things would be different. Opal could still hear it now. Moses’ deep bass reaching for the stars. Old Sarah’s sweet voice instilling hope where there was none.

She missed them. Oh, how she missed them. She was happy where she was, but never a day went by that she didn’t think of her friends on Cromwell Plantation and wonder how they were doing.

“Funny ain’t it? How white folks ain’t got no idea what we’re really saying?”

Opal brushed away the sparkle of tears and turned to smile at Fannie. “Good thing,” she said fervently. “They talk about how good it is we darkies have our little songs

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to keep us happy. What they don’t know can’t hurt them,”

she added with a quiet laugh.

Once again Opal’s thoughts transported her back to the quarters. The very song Susie was singing now had become a mainstay of the quarters the summer before—

especially after Miles, Sadie, Jasmine and the rest had escaped. Humming along with Susie, she interpreted as she sang.

Swing low, sweet chariot

The Underground Railroad’s wagon that had taken her friends to freedom had indeed been a sweet chariot.

Coming for to carry me home

Where but up north could a slave find the freedom that would give them a true home?

Swing low, sweet chariot

If the sweet chariot swung low it would come close to where a slave was waiting.

Coming for to carry me home.

I looked over Jordan and what did I see

The Jordan could mean many things, but it always stood for the border between the North and the South.

Coming for to carry me home

A band of angels coming after me

What better description of an angel than the conductors of the Underground Railroad who led slaves to freedom?

Coming for to carry me home.

Susie’s captivating voice fell away to a whisper as her eyes closed in longing.

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Opal knew what she was thinking. The two had become close friends since the day she had first walked into the house. Just then Susie opened her eyes, stared at Opal, and closed one in a long, slow wink.

Opal nodded and rose from her chair.

“Be careful,” Fannie warned. Her warm eyes were concerned but full of an unspoken confidence.

Opal drew daily strength and courage from Fannie’s confidence in her. As Susie broke out into song once again and Eddie resumed his loud playing, Opal slipped through the sagging backdoor and down the rickety steps. She shuddered as she glanced westward and saw the sun dip below the horizon. She had wanted to leave earlier, but the plans had called for her to be on the outskirts of town at precisely seven o’clock. If she had gotten there early, her loitering would have attracted unwelcome attention. But now she must move quickly.

She knew the driver would wait no more than five minutes before moving on. Everything depended upon her being on time.

“How do, Opal.”

Opal nodded to the thin black man lounging on the stairs of his back porch. “Hello, Abram. Beautiful afternoon isn’t it?” she asked pleasantly, trying not to show any nervousness in her voice.

Nodding her head in farewell, she continued to walk.

Not too fast, she warned herself. And not too slow. She must look as if she were simply out to do an errand.

Shifting her basket on her arm, she balanced it carefully with her other hand. The cargo she carried was precious.

As she moved down the dusty road, the cries of children, the barking of dogs and the crowing of roosters went by unheeded while Opal’s mind raced. The last few weeks had flown by. Her job at the state armory was boring and mundane, but at least it wasn’t the backbreaking labor of working in the fields. It was hard work, and she reached the end of each twelve-hour day exhausted, but she had never experienced a thrill quite like the one when she was handed her first week’s pay.

She had stared at it in joy before hurrying home. A portion of her wages was sent back to Cromwell, but of the rest, she gave half to Fannie and Eddie for her keep.

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The other half she had carefully stashed under her mattress.

Today, Sunday, was her only day off. She had joined the family for church that morning and then laughed and talked her way through the sumptuous lunch that followed. When Eddie had broken out his fiddle, she had moved to her favorite chair to relax and think. And to get ready.

This was the second time she had been asked to meet the driver on the edge of town. The first time, she’d had no idea what was so important about the basket of eggs and vegetables she had been asked to deliver. There had been no talk at all. She had stepped down from the sidewalk just as he arrived, silently handed him the basket she carried, and taken the one full of tomatoes he offered in return. He had simply nodded and driven on.

The whole escapade had taken less than ten seconds, and then Opal had retraced her footsteps. Eddie and Fannie had welcomed her back as a hero, but she was totally clueless as to what she had done.

Until this morning.

Susie’s eyes had been shining when she had returned from her job the evening before.

Opal had stood it for as long as she could. When the two were walking home together from church, she finally could stand it no longer. “Why are you looking so happy, girl? You look like you just got the biggest piece of the pie.”

Susie grinned widely before she grew somber. After a moment of gazing at Opal, she nodded her head slowly.

“You need to know, Opal. Daddy said it would be better if you didn’t, ‘cause it might scare you and make you act nervous, but Mama and I think you ought to know.”

Opal waited. She had been hoping that someday they would take her into their confidence. She was happy to do what they asked without knowing more than that she was helping the cause, but she must have proven herself if they were going to tell her more.

Susie dropped her voice to a whisper. “The lady I work for, Mrs. Hamilton, she ain’t what she seems.” She paused. “She been living here in Richmond all her life,

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but she be for the Union, and she hates slavery. She wants to see all the slaves go free. She’s what they call an abolitionist.”

Opal stared at her, too surprised to say anything.

Susie nodded her head. “I was mighty surprised when I found out, too. She be a spy is what she be.”

“Mrs. Hamilton?” Opal asked in disbelief, keeping her voice low and looking around to make sure no one could overhear their conversation. She could easily picture the elegant woman who lived in a large house just blocks from where Marse Cromwell lived on Church Hill. She had been a respected part of Richmond society for years.

“Mrs. Hamilton.” Susie repeated. Then, looking around carefully, she lowered her head even more and continued. “I didn’t know what was so important in that basket until yesterday. She must be trusting me more,

‘cause she let me help her. She came back from being at that Spotswood Hotel all day and disappeared into her room. When she came out, she had a single sheet of paper and asked me to get her a bunch of eggs out of the box.

She seemed to be in an awful hurry.” Susie looked off, remembering.

Opal fought the urge to shake the story out of her.

Susie was mature for her age, but she still loved to accentuate the drama of whatever was going on in her young life. Still, she was telling her. Opal would be patient.

“Well, anyway, Mrs. Hamilton, she took out a real sharp pin and poked some holes in one of them eggs.

Then, real careful like, she sucked the yolk right out of it.

Once it was all out, she took that sheet of paper and tore it up into little strips. Real slow, she rolled them tiny pieces of paper up and stuffed ‘em into them holes.”

Stopping, she looked over for Opal’s reaction. She must have been satisfied by the wide-eyed look, because she only paused long enough for a breath and then kept going. “Once all that paper was in there, she took some glue and filled them holes up till the egg almost looked good as new. Then she put it in the bottom of the basket with the other eggs and told me to make sure you did your delivery tonight.”

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Opal waited for more, but Susie was done. “But what was on that sheet of paper?”

“You expectin’ her to tell me?” Susie snorted. “Mrs.

Hamilton, she’s got to be real careful. They done started putting people in jail for having Union sympathies around this town. She sure don’t want to go to prison.” She paused, a slightly fearful look in her eyes. “I don’t want to be going to prison, neither. If any of us be found out, my daddy said we wouldn’t never have even known the meaning of trouble till then.”

Opal had been thinking about the story ever since.

Now she knew why her errand was so important. It also made her afraid to think what would happen if someone knew she carried a secret message to the enemy on her arm. Swallowing hard, she maintained her steady pace and kept her eyes on the dusty road in front of her. Her walk passed without incident.

Several minutes passed before she ventured to look up the road. Nothing was moving toward her. She looked at the three carriages already stopped, but none matched the one she had gone to the week before. She recognized none of the faces beginning to stare at her questioningly.

She tried to maintain her casual pose as her heart began to beat faster. Where was the driver? What was she supposed to do with her basket? Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the disappearing glow of the sun. The thought of impending darkness made her heart race more. She well remembered Sam’s warning about being out after dark. She had made sure to be safe inside her cousin’s house every night. If she didn’t hand off her delivery soon, she wasn’t going to make it.

Anxiously now, she peered down the road again. The other drivers were being open about their curiosity. She glanced behind her at the horizon again. The driver should have been here. She was waiting too long.

Something must have happened to thwart their careful plan. If she didn’t leave now, she might not make it back in time. But what if he came and she wasn’t there? Would the message do any good if it was received later?

Finally, she had no choice. Fighting to control her feelings of fear, Opal turned and began to walk back the

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way she had come. She had gone almost a hundred yards, when she heard the rattle of wheels. Jerking her head around, she gasped. The carriage was coming. The red coat the driver was wearing was her signal, and she recognized the carriage from the week before. She had to get back!

She turned and once more moved toward the meeting place, all the time aware of the darkening sky. She retraced her steps and tried to walk casually as she approached the carriage. Wordlessly, she held the basket out to him.

The man’s dark face was impassive, but his eyes glowed with appreciation. “Sorry I’m late,” he whispered between tight lips.

Opal nodded, the knowledge of his appreciation giving her a warm glow. She had done her job well. She allowed herself a brief smile and turned quickly away, clutching the basket of tomatoes he had handed her. She must hurry. Head down, so as not to draw attention to herself, Opal walked quickly up the road. Not too fast, she cautioned herself again. You have time... You have time...

A glance at the sun told her she was wrong.

Resisting the impulse to break into a run, Opal extended her stride. She didn’t care if she drew attention now. Maybe someone would see she was trying to get home as quickly as she could and decide not to punish her. The image of the whip Sam had been talking about rose to taunt her. Run! Run! You must escape the whip.

She walked on resolutely. Everything they did depended on secrecy. Eddie had warned her not to do anything to draw attention to herself or their family. If she did, it could ruin everything for everybody.

Sweat was pouring down her brow when she finally turned onto her street. Dusk had laid its heavy hand on the afternoon and the streets were almost empty. There were no more cries of children playing. Muted laughter could be heard coming from open windows, but even the dogs and roosters were quiet. She didn’t have much further to go.

A sudden clatter of wheels caused her to look up. Who was coming? None of the blacks in the area owned carriages, and surely no one was coming to do business

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on a Sunday evening. It could only mean one thing. Opal looked around frantically just as the carriage rolled around the curve.

The two men inside were laughing loudly. Their eyes were in constant motion, searching for signs of movement in the shadows. One spoke sharply to his horse as they rolled along. The other called out to his partner. “This being a policeman ain’t all it’s cut out to be. Course, it’s a lot better than being up there at Manassas being shot at. You’ve heard about the battle, haven’t you?”

“Of course I have,” the other said contemptuously.

“Ain’t no one been talking about much else. I reckon there will be some more news coming in soon.”

The voices faded away as the carriage rolled on.

Slowly, Opal picked herself up from where she had dropped to the ground behind a sparse covering of shrubs. She couldn’t believe they hadn’t seen her. If they hadn’t been so involved in their conversation, they would have. Her heart pounded with fear as she hastily brushed the dirt and twigs off her dress. Glancing back over her shoulder to make sure the carriage wasn’t retracing its route, she fairly flew the rest of the way to the house. She slipped around the back, looked carefully to make sure no one was watching her, and then eased in the back door.

“Opal! Girl, I was worried sick about you. Where you been?”

Breathlessly, Opal told Fannie her story.

“You made the delivery okay, then?” Eddie asked.

Opal nodded her head, wanting nothing more than her bed.

“I’m proud of you, Opal,” Eddie said. “It’s up to all of us to do what we can. If the South done win this war, we ain’t got nothing but years more of bondage for our folks to look forward to. If the North wins… Well, at least we done got a chance.”

Freedom! Opal was buoyed by that thought as she trudged wearily up the stairs. She would continue to do whatever they asked. Then she remembered the question that had been niggling at her. “Eddie?”

“Yessum?”

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“The streets are mighty empty. More so than usual. It almost seemed like people were hiding.”

“They be hidin’ for sure. Word came through about that big battle up in Manassas. The South done won that battle, and the white boys gonna be feeling right proud of themselves tonight. It be best we just stay out o’ the way,”

Eddie said grimly.

Thomas Cromwell burst through the door of the house, shouting wildly. “We won! They did it! We won!”

Carrie jumped up from where she had been making a weak attempt to read a book. She had not been able to concentrate on anything all day long. The thought of Robert in battle had consumed every waking thought.

Her father ran right by where she was sitting in the parlor. She had never seen him so excited.

“I’m here, Father! Tell me quickly. What has happened?”

Thomas’ face was flushed, his eyes glowing. “A telegram came through from President Davis just a few minutes ago. I copied the whole thing.” Fumbling in his pocket, he finally produced the single sheet of paper.

“Listen to this,” he said. “‘ Night has closed on a hard fought field—our forces have won a glorious victory.’ ”

He shoved the piece of paper at her. “Isn’t that glorious news?”

Carrie didn’t know yet if it was glorious news. It did register with her that if they had won the battle, the North must have had the worst part of it. “Do we know yet who is hurt?” she asked. “Who didn’t make it?”

Her somber questions calmed her father’s excitement just a little. He shook his head. “It’s too soon to know.

Those reports will come in later.” The excitement reappeared. “Come with me, Carrie. I came to get you.

The whole city is going wild with joy.”

As he spoke, Carrie could hear the first sounds of the celebration. Church bells began to clang all over the city

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and gunshots exploded in the dark. She knew there would be no sleep tonight. Besides, she wanted to know as soon as the reports of the wounded and dead began to flow in. “All right,” she said with a smile. “Let me get a hat.”

Within a short time, they were moving down Broad Street, watching wide-eyed as the city erupted with life and excitement. Cavalry soldiers waiting to be transferred to the front raced up and down the streets on their horses, discharging their pistols as they went. Foot soldiers simply raised their rifles to the sky, adding to the clamor. Everywhere, people were dancing and yelling.

In spite of herself, Carrie smiled as she watched their joy.

Richmond was a city that had endured much. They had given their whole city to the cause and sent off thousands of their best into battle. They had suffered overcrowding and violence. They had bent and twisted endlessly to accommodate all the needs and demands of a fledgling government. It was to be understood that they would rejoice in the news of a glorious victory. All of their sacrifice was not for nothing. The Confederacy would stand, and Richmond would be its permanent capital.

“It was a complete victory!” one passing man yelled.

“We did it! They thought they would march through to Richmond, but we sent them running with their tails between their legs,” a woman crowed.

“Those Yankees will leave us alone for sure now!”

another yelled as he pounded a nearby man on the back.

“This is cause for celebration,” one man yelled, before he pulled a passing woman close to kiss her soundly.

Carrie laughed as the indignant woman pulled away laughing herself. Her father was right. The city was wild with joy.

A swarm of children caught her attention.

“I got one!” a little dark-haired boy cried. Brandishing his make-believe pistol, he rushed forward to finish the job with an imaginary bayonet.

“Look at them run!” another cried as he rushed up to a nearby bench, pretending he was discharging a mighty cannon.

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“Those yellow-bellied cowards won’t dare come down here again,” a little girl cried. “I hate those Yankees!” she screamed defiantly, raising her fist to the North.

Carrie’s heart grew heavy as she watched the drama unfolding before her. The children were too young to even know what they were saying. Shallow-thinking adults had taught them to hate a whole population of people—

people they didn’t know anything about. They had ripped the humanity of Northerners from these children’s minds and replaced it with a blind hatred of a whole people. The unthinking passions that had ignited this war were now being passed down to the children. When it was all over, would it really be over? How would the unreasoning hatred be erased?

As their carriage rolled slowly onward, the children were left behind. Once more they found themselves amid mobs of people who were celebrating their wonderful victory. Thousands of Richmonders had flocked to the streets in response to the summoning of the church bells and the now constantly tolling Capitol tower bell.

“Isn’t it marvelous, Carrie?” Thomas shouted above the din.

Carrie was still too confused about her own feelings to know whether it was marvelous or not, but she was glad to see unrestrained joy take the place of worry and anxiety on her father’s face. She tucked her hand through his arm. “Indeed it is, Father.”

As they continued to inch forward, she finally thought to wonder where they were going.

“The Spotswood,” Thomas yelled in response to her question. “We will get any breaking news there first.”

Carrie leaned back against her seat in satisfaction.

Maybe now she would find out if Robert was okay.

The Spotswood was a madhouse. Carrie was sure everyone connected with the government was confined in that one place. They knew it was to the Spotswood that Davis would send any more news. There was a steady flow of messengers to the telegraph office. There were no empty places in the dining room, but Carrie spotted an empty place on a sofa in the far corner.

“Go over with the other men,” she urged her father. “I will be quite content to sit here for a while.”

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Her father nodded his head in assent. “Thank you,” he said simply. He squeezed her hand and moved over to join one of the knots of men.

Carrie sank down on the sofa and looked around. Men were talking and waving their hands. Looks of victory and excitement were mixed with determination and resolve. It was a group of ladies in the far corner that kept drawing her attention, however. They stayed clustered in one area, only looking up occasionally. Their faces, in contrast to the men in the room, were drawn with worry and concern.

“Those are all officers’ wives.”

Carrie turned to identify the voice that had broken into her thoughts. “Excuse me?”

“I saw you watching those women. They are all officers’

wives. They’re waiting for news of their husbands. Several also have sons or brothers who fought at Manassas today.”

“I see,” Carrie murmured, wishing she could go over to join them. Then she remembered the woman beside her.

“Thank you.” She turned to smile at the rather plain woman with the pleasant smile and tired eyes. Her hair, though carefully done, was lackluster and dull. Her gray dress added to the drabness of her appearance even though Carrie could tell it was well made. “Are you waiting for news as well?”

“No. My husband and I moved here from Louisiana,”

she said with a soft accent. “My name is Victoria Lewis.

My husband, Richard Lewis, is an aide to the president.

He insisted I come with him tonight.”

“You don’t sound excited about it,” Carrie commented.

“I’m not. And I feel free to say that because your face looks about like mine,” she said.

Carrie laughed, liking the outspoken woman. “I am waiting for news as well. All I care about right now is finding out if someone I care deeply for is okay.”

“I hope he is,” Victoria said. “I wouldn’t wish the same pain Mrs. Bartow is facing tonight.” She made no attempt to hide the tears welling in her eyes.

“Mrs. Bartow? Do you mean Colonel Bartow...?”

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Victoria nodded. “The news came through a while ago.

Thankfully, Mrs. Bartow didn’t have to hear it as an announcement. Some of her close friends went to break the news.”

Tears swarmed in Carrie’s eyes at the thought of the pain the woman must be bearing. She had never met Colonel Bartow, but he had been extremely popular with his men and the city alike.

“General Bee is another,” Victoria said.

“General Bee is dead, too?” Carrie asked disbelievingly. “How many? How many died?” she asked slowly.

Victoria shook her head. “That will take a while to tell.

They’ll send lists of the officers first. Then the enlisted men.” Her voice hardened. “Then the wounded will come in. Richmond thinks she has struggled getting used to being a capital so far. My friend, they haven’t seen anything yet. This whole city will be a hospital before this is all over.” She continued, this time in a softer voice.

“Women who not so long ago talked freely of their willingness to sacrifice their loved ones for the cause are now terror-stricken they might be called upon.”

Carrie stared out over the celebration as her new friend’s words struck home. The South had won the Battle of Manassas. Now they would find out the cost.

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