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

Chapter Seventeen

Thomas Cromwell spread open his paper and settled back into his favorite chair. He lay back against its firm softness for several moments before he lifted his head to begin reading. It had been a long day, and he was tired.

As always, when his body relaxed, his mind flew to Cromwell Plantation. How he missed the wide open spaces, the smell of the raw earth. Usually at this time the tobacco would be harvested, its pungent aroma filling the air. He could almost hear the chop of the huge knives as the field hands took down stalk after stalk. He loved the month of September. The starkness of winter was still far away, but the hot grip of summer was loosening, and the first leaves were twirling gracefully down to start their yearly carpet.

The memories continued to flood his mind, until he saw a picture of Abigail in her yellow dressing gown, running the brush through her blond hair. He frowned and sat up. He missed the plantation, but he wasn’t ready to go back. His heart still ached when he thought of his beloved wife. Maybe someday he could think of her without a sharp pain running through every part of him.

When that happened he would go back, but for now he was thankful for his job in the government. It kept his mind occupied and kept the long nights from being endless.

He picked up the paper again. It wasn’t often that he got home this early. There was a stack of newspapers waiting for him to go through, and then he would write a letter to Carrie.

A sudden knock at the door several minutes later caused him to look up with a frown. He wasn’t expecting any visitors. Was he to be called back to the Capitol? He laid down his paper, sighing impatiently. He could hear Micah’s even footsteps moving toward the door, then, “Is Mr. Cromwell in?”

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Thomas jumped up from his chair and hurried to the entryway. “Robert Borden! Come in. Come in.”

Robert smiled and moved inside. “I hope I’m not bothering you, Thomas. I’m only here for the day, and when I found myself with some free time, I decided to take my chance and come.”

Thomas smiled and led the way into the parlor. “Of course you’re not a bother. We’ve been eager for news of you. It’s wonderful to see you.” He sat down and waved his hand toward an empty chair. “Make yourself at home.” Then he spoke to Micah, who had appeared at the door. “We’d like cold lemonade and some of the cookies that were made earlier.” Micah bowed slightly and left the room. Thomas turned back to his guest. “What brings you to Richmond?”

“General Johnston asked me to come down and confer with General Lee about some matters.”

Thomas raised his eyebrows. “Sounds as though you’re becoming rather important.”

Robert shrugged. “I welcomed the opportunity to do something different. The Battle of Bull Run was six weeks ago, and yet, still we sit there—an army doing nothing.

The most stimulating thing I’ve done in the last month was take part in a scouting party that went to check things out on the Potomac. The most exciting thing I saw was the unfinished dome of the Washington Capitol.”

“I understand the generals are becoming quite impatient.”

Robert nodded. “You understand right. That’s why I’m here. General Johnston and General Beauregard plan on meeting with President Davis in a couple of weeks. I’m here to gather information and lay groundwork.”

“It sounds as if this meeting will be rather crucial,”

Thomas observed.

“It will.” Robert paused. “May I speak frankly?”

Thomas eyed him for a moment and then walked over to close the heavy doors to the parlor. “Not a word you say will leave this room.”

“Thank you. I always find talking to you helpful.”

Robert settled back in his chair and began. “Everyone is getting impatient. General Beauregard proposed back in early August that we move forward and press an attack

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in hopes of forcing the Yankees into fighting a battle out in the open, outside the Washington lines. General Johnston decided we weren’t strong enough to force such a confrontation and turned down the idea.”

Thomas nodded. “I think that was wise.”

“Maybe,” Robert said. “We might have had the advantage then with their army so demoralized by the recent defeat.” He shrugged. “It’s too late to do it over, but now both men are eager to do something. They agree it is time to strike a blow rather than simply sit passively waiting to see what the Yankees might do.”

“What do you think?” Thomas asked, leaning forward to gaze at Robert. The young man didn’t have much military experience, but he was obviously well thought of if he had been granted this much information.

“I agree with the generals,” Robert said. “Our intelligence tells us the Federal Army in front of Washington is growing much faster than our own. If there is going to be a Confederate offensive, I believe it must happen quickly. Decisive action before the winter is important to us.”

Thomas listened thoughtfully. There had been much talk around the capital about making another move.

“What will it take for it to be successful?”

Robert was ready with an answer. “The army must be strongly reinforced. They want Davis to double its size to sixty thousand men.”

“And where do you propose they come from?”

“It can be done if we arm all of our new recruits, as well as pull in troops from every point in the South that is not actually under attack.” Robert’s voice grew excited.

“With an army like that, we could cross the Potomac, bring on a battle northwest of Washington, and win a victory that would establish our independence.”

Thomas looked at him, quietly mulling over Robert’s words.

Robert spoke again. “It is my opinion, Thomas, that success here at this time saves everything. But I am afraid there will be disastrous results if we remain inactive throughout the winter.”

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Thomas shook his head. “I agree with you in principle, but I’m not sure it’s possible in practicality.”

“Why not?”

Thomas thought long and hard before he answered, all the while knowing he would have no final say in the decision. President Davis and his cabinet would make the final decision. “It’s just my opinion of course, but I see several problems with your plan. I agree with you that there are plenty of recruits to be found. More men are signing up every day.” He paused. “Our problem is weapons. There simply aren’t enough to meet the need.

They might come up with thirty thousand more men, but they won’t find rifles to put in their hands.”

“We need to speed things up,” Robert said impatiently.

Thomas laughed. “Spoken like a true military man.

But surely you haven’t been away from politics so long as to have forgotten the roadblocks they are facing.

Everything is new. The president is still trying to create order out of chaos. The demands have been made for the weapons, but Southern manufacturing facilities are too inadequate to meet the need. They’re trying, but it’s just too slow.”

“What about overseas?”

Thomas shrugged. “The contracts have been placed, but the results have been negligible so far. I think Europe is still trying to figure out where they stand on all this, even though we have hopes they will recognize us as a nation soon. In the meantime, the blockade along the coast is starting to cause us some problems.”

Robert shook his head in frustration.

Thomas picked up the paper he had been reading earlier. “You’re not alone in your frustration. Let me read you something from the Richmond Examiner. ‘ The idea of waiting for blows instead of inflicting them is altogether unsuited to the genius of our people.’ ”

Robert nodded. “They’re right.”

“It’s also impossible to inflict those blows without weapons,” Thomas observed. “There is another problem,”

he added. He didn’t wait for Robert to ask what. “Your generals feel justified in demanding we concentrate our military strength at the point of greatest danger.”

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“Surely you agree with that, Thomas,” Robert protested.

“Yes, I do,” Thomas agreed readily. “It’s not me you need to worry about. And it’s not really the government.

I think they agree with your generals, however, in many ways their hands are tied.”

“How?”

Thomas smiled at his belligerent tone. “Our Confederacy is still as much an association of independent and equal states as it is a nation. We have governors who insist proper garrisons be maintained in places not under attack because the situation could change at any time. They are quite simply not willing to send their men. As frustrating as it is, their wishes must be heeded.”

“I suppose President Davis has to exercise his authority within the limits of the system.”

Thomas nodded. “A system where the wishes of the separate states are all but sacrosanct.” He continued in a somber voice. “I don’t see that Virginia could have made any decision other than the one she did, but I’m afraid the new Confederate government opted to wage war before they had counted the cost.”

Silence fell on the two men as they contemplated the future. Thomas was deeply troubled, and his conversation with Robert had only intensified his concern. This could not just be a war to put down rebellion. Its elements were too violent. Men who had never learned to endure wrongs with patience had become convinced wrongs were being done to them.

People eternally eager to dedicate themselves had grown to feel there were noble causes to be served. And there were enemies to be hurt in a land where the only rule about a blow struck in anger was that it must be struck with all the strength one had. This was a war in which anything could happen.

In spite of the glorious victories that had marked the first summer of the war, there was a dawning realization that all was not going well. The blockade was beginning to hurt. Impatient recruits were impotent without weapons. The Southern coast lay alarmingly exposed to

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the gathering Federal fleets. Thomas knew the North was settling down for a long pull. The offensives that lay ahead would mostly likely be conducted by the Union.

The more he learned, the less confident he was that the North could be beaten back. To the average Southerner, the war had hardly begun, but he could see ominous signs in the still darkening sky. Time was passing. He sensed it was working for the wrong side.

Robert was the first to rouse himself from the contemplative silence that had cloaked the room. “How is Carrie?” he asked quietly. He had told himself on the way to Thomas’ house that he wasn’t going to ask. He had to learn to let her go. But once in the presence of her father, he could no more keep from asking than he could keep from breathing.

Thomas smiled. “I got a letter from her last week. She is doing fine.” He shook his head and laughed. “I don’t think she’ll ever cease to astound me. Fifty acres of my tobacco have been plowed under and will soon be producing food for the city. She would have done more if there had been more time.”

Robert listened in amazement as Thomas told him of Carrie’s campaign to bring fresh food to the city—

especially to the soldiers who were still convalescing and needed the nutrients.

“She cares very much about the wounded soldiers,”

Thomas said. “I think she got to see almost all of them when she was searching the city for you.”

“When she did what?” Robert exclaimed.

Thomas nodded. “I wrote her and requested she come to Richmond during the battle. She humored her father, but then she refused to leave until she had satisfied herself you were not lying wounded in the city somewhere.”

“My name wasn’t on the wounded list,” Robert said, thoroughly amazed at Carrie’s concern, until he

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remembered her running forward to press a lock of her hair into his hand before he pulled out for the front.

Thomas nodded. “I know. That wasn’t good enough for her. She insisted some of the soldiers could have fallen through the cracks. It wasn’t until she found Hobbs that she was satisfied you were all right.”

Robert shook his head again in amazement. “Carrie found Hobbs?”

“He was being nursed by a lady who had taken in two other soldiers. He left for the front again last week. He told her about how you saved his life. It was a brave thing to do,” Thomas said warmly.

Robert shrugged his shoulders, embarrassed. “Anyone would have done it.”

“I don’t think so,” Thomas observed.

Robert was glad to hear Hobbs was all right, but his thoughts were focused on the reality that Carrie cared so much. He could envision her going through the city, determined in her quest. Suddenly his frustration swept over him, and he almost groaned out loud. He wished this war would end. Maybe then he and Carrie could spend enough time together to work out their differences. But when he remembered the finality with which she had turned down his proposal, he knew they were worlds apart on an issue he couldn’t imagine changing his mind about.

“There’s something else you need to know, Robert,”

Thomas said, breaking into his thoughts.

Robert looked up, trying to control the frustration on his face. “About Carrie?”

“No. About Matthew.”

“Matthew?” Robert asked, confused. “Matthew Justin?”

Thomas nodded. “He is here in the prison.”

Robert took a deep breath and settled back against his chair. Was there to be no end to the surprises of this visit? “Matthew was captured at Bull Run?”

“Yes,” Thomas said, “but not as a soldier. He was there as a correspondent for his newspaper.”

“Can you get me in to see him, Thomas?”

“I thought you had to leave early tomorrow morning?”

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“I am supposed to, but I will have to take the next train. I want to see him.” Pain shot through him at the idea of his friend in prison. The faces of the Union men during the battle had all blurred into nothing but blue uniforms. It had not even seemed like he was firing at real men. They had simply become the enemy. Now one of the enemy had taken on an identity—the identity of one of his closest friends.

Thomas nodded. “I’ll see what I can do. Meet me tomorrow morning at my office. There may not be time to get a letter, but I’ll try.”

Bright and early the next morning, before most of the city was even stirring, Robert stood outside the gates to the prison, staring up at its imposing walls. In his hand was the letter Thomas had managed to procure him. He knew Thomas had gone way beyond the call of duty to get it for him. He would find a way to pay him back.

The guard who opened the door snapped to attention and was immediately courteous when he saw Robert’s uniform. “What can I do for you, Lieutenant?”

“I’m here to see one of the prisoners.”

“I’m sorry, sir, the prisoners are not allowed to have visitors.”

Silently, Robert handed him the letter. The guard looked at him more closely. “Come in, sir. I will get Lieutenant Todd for you.”

Robert followed him into the building, looking around as they walked. He could hear the sounds of men moving around on the floor above him. Occasionally, he would hear a yell, or a bark of laughter.

“Wait here, sir.”

Within moments, the guard was back with Lieutenant Todd. Robert had met him during the training days out at the old fairgrounds. “Lieutenant,” he said with a smile.

“It’s good to see you again.”

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Todd nodded but didn’t smile. “You are here to see Matthew Justin?”

“That’s correct.” Instantly, Robert was on his guard.

“He is still here, isn’t he?”

“Yes.”

Robert held his gaze, waiting for him to continue.

“Who is this man? Why is he so important?”

“What do you mean?”

“None of the officers here have had visitors. This man, this journalist, has had three.”

“Three?”

Todd nodded. “First there was that Carrie Cromwell.

Then a black girl named Opal came with the same letter from General Winder. Now you. What’s going on?” he asked suspiciously.

Robert shook his head. “I don’t know. Matthew is a friend of mine.”

Todd sneered. “I don’t know if I would go around telling people you are friends with one of the enemy. It could be taken in the wrong way. People might wonder where your loyalties lie.”

Robert flushed with anger. “No one who knows me will wonder where my loyalties lie, and the rest aren’t important enough for me to worry about.”

Lieutenant Todd’s lips tightened, but he didn’t say anything else. “Call Justin,” he snapped to the guard, and strode from the hallway. Seconds later, a door slammed in the distance.

“Is he always so pleasant?” Robert asked with a grin.

The guard shrugged, but there was an apologetic look on his smooth face. “I guess the lieutenant don’t want nobody questioning his loyalty.”

“Why would anyone—” Robert stopped, remembering what someone had told him. “He’s the president’s brother-in-law.”

“Yes. He may always feel like he’s got something to prove. I can tell you, though, he’s Southern through and through.”

“I’m sure he is,” Robert murmured. He was also quite sure he made an intimidating prison official.

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The guard escorted him to a room and told him to wait.

Twenty minutes passed before he heard approaching footsteps. He looked up as the door swung open. Matthew was leaner than when Robert had last seen him, but he looked to be in good health. And his blue eyes held the same sparkle.

“Robert Borden,” Matthew said with a smile.

“Hello, my friend. Not much of a hotel you picked for your visit here.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I got me a place on the floor and three meals a day. That’s probably more than a lot of people are getting around here.”

Robert slapped his friend on the back. He hadn’t lost his sense of humor. “It’s good to see you, Matthew. Even though these aren’t the circumstances I would have picked.”

“Me either,” Matthew remarked. “I’ve learned we don’t always get to pick our circumstances, though. We just get to deal with them.”

Robert nodded, eying him closely. “So how are you dealing with this one? Thomas said he has done all he can to try to obtain your freedom, but no prisoners are being released or exchanged yet.”

Matthew shrugged. “Like I said, it’s not that bad. I have become close to some of the officers. We find things to talk about. I’m even learning how to cook,” he said with a grin. “I’m limited to bacon and biscuits, but even so, my mother would fall over in shock.” Then he looked thoughtful. “I’m luckier than most, I guess. Carrie has one of her slaves who is working in Richmond bring me fresh vegetables every few days. I stretch them with the rest of the prisoners as far as I can.”

“That sounds like Carrie,” Robert murmured.

Matthew nodded. “And I’ve got lots of time to write.

Carrie made sure that Opal brought me plenty of paper.”

Matthew stopped talking and the silence stretched between them. Robert cast in his mind for something to say to break the awkwardness. Finally, he reached out his hand and laid it on top of his friend’s. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry you’re here. I wish I could do something.”

“Thank you,” Matthew said gruffly, blinking back a suspicious moisture.

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Suddenly, the air between them was clear. As they looked at each other, the prison walls and the locked room faded away. Once more, they were college boys going on exploits together. They were young men who confided dreams and hopes to each other.

“This war is ripping friendships and families apart,”

Matthew said. “I had no idea you would come to see me.”

“I would have found a way to get here sooner if I’d known. I just found out last night.”

Matthew listened and then looked at him closely. “So you are now a lieutenant in the Confederate Army. How goes it?”

Robert shrugged, unsure of what he could say, even to his friend. How much would loyalty demand Matthew reveal? What if he had a way of imparting information?

Robert hated thinking such thoughts, but he couldn’t help it. There was too much at stake. He decided to change the subject instead. “I’d rather be at home on my plantation. I think of Oak Meadows daily. I got a letter from my mother a few weeks ago. She is doing the best she can, but things are hard.”

Matthew understood what Robert was doing and searched for a safe topic. “I think this war is going to take on a face no one anticipated. Not even the men who authored it.”

Robert sighed to himself with relief. The overall picture he was willing to talk about. It was the specifics he felt compelled to remain silent on. He nodded. “There were too many people, on both sides, who thought this war would never happen. Everyone waited for everyone else to back down.”

Matthew nodded grimly. “I’m afraid my profession had its hand in bringing things to where they are now. The press was merciless about keeping the heat up. You could hardly read a Northern newspaper without hearing something about ‘ On to Richmond.’ In the end, I think it propelled both governments into a conflict neither was really ready for.”

Robert wanted to protest that the South had overwhelmingly won at Manassas, but honesty kept him silent. He knew how disorganized the battle had been. He

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knew how many strokes of luck had put men in the right place at the right time. He also knew how hard the North was working now to build up their army to make sure the same thing didn’t happen again. He chose ambivalence over a position. “Southern papers played their own part in what happened,” he responded.

Robert grew impatient with the verbal game it was necessary for them to play. “Look,” he said firmly. “Let’s not talk about the war at all. We know it’s out there. We know we’re both involved. We know we stand on different sides. So be it. There is more to us than this war. Tell me about you. Tell me what you think about when you are locked up in prison.”

Matthew smiled. “You’re right. We may be a Northerner and a Southerner, but we are something more important than that. We are friends.”

The two exchanged a long look of understanding.

“I dream about being free every day,” Matthew continued. “I hate being watched all the time. I hate knowing my life has to be lived within these four walls. I miss the feeling of sunshine on my face. I miss the challenge of working. I miss the feeling I might be making a difference with what I do. I miss my friends,” he added softly, the pain intense on his face and in his voice. “Every day I do what little I can to make a difference here, but the inactivity kills me.”

“I dream, too,” Robert replied. “I dream about being back on my plantation. I dream about having nothing more to do than increase the yield of my crops. I dream about smelling fresh earth as it is plowed for the spring crops. I dream about sitting on my porch with a drink in my hand, looking out over the rolling hills. I dream about Carrie being there with me.” He knew his voice sounded hopeless when he uttered his last words.

Matthew remained silent.

Robert looked at him. “Carrie told you, didn’t she?”

“That she turned down your proposal? Yes. That she still loves you? Yes, she told me that too.”

Robert shook his head in frustration. “The whole thing is so ridiculous. We love each other. We should be together.” He sighed. “Oh, I know the war would keep us

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apart right now anyway, but at least our hearts would be united.”

Matthew gazed at him for a long moment. “The issue keeping you apart is not ridiculous. It is an issue strong enough to rip a nation apart. The Northern Congress is trying to edge away from it—take it out of the picture in hopes the picture will not be quite so volatile—but in the end, it will all come down to the issue of slavery.”

Matthew hesitated, as if he wasn’t sure he should say more. “It is slavery that is fueling the passions of the South. It’s funny, though. The South is fighting for the belief in individual freedom and the right to make your own decisions. At the same time, you are taking freedom from millions of people.”

He hurried on before Robert could interrupt. “The North will have to develop the same passion. This is going to be a long war. In order to get men to fight a long war, they have to fight for something they can be passionate about. Men will quickly tire of fighting to hold the country together. They will begin to question why thousands of them are dying. But if you put a human face on it—if you give men a moral principle to fight for—they will fight to the bitter end.”

Robert could feel the anger building in him. Matthew’s next words caused it to die.

“Carrie has put a human face on the issue of slavery.

When she thinks of slavery, she sees the faces of people she loves. She sees the faces of millions of people who have dreams like you and I do. She has faces to build her passion around. To her it is not ridiculous. It is who she is.” He paused for a moment. “And she is not willing to sacrifice who she is, even for you.”

Robert stared at him for a long moment. He knew his friend was right, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

The guard knocked on the door and stuck his head in.

“Your time is up, Lieutenant. You will have to leave now.”

Robert nodded and stood. Reaching across the table, he clasped Matthew’s hand and looked deeply into his eyes. Then he turned and left the room.

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Opal watched Robert leave from across the road.

Staying back in the shadows, she clutched the plate of biscuits she was holding. She almost hadn’t recognized Robert in his Confederate uniform, but then she’d remembered the handsome young man who had visited Carrie several times and even spent Christmas at the plantation. What was he doing here?

Once he was out of sight, she walked quickly across the street. The guard was scowling when he opened the door. Instinctively, she shrank back a little.

He knew what she was there for. “Matthew Justin can’t have no more visitors today,” he said sharply.

Robert must have been there to see Matthew, she realized. She remembered Carrie saying they were friends and hoped he had just come to visit. Surely no one could have discovered what Matthew was doing.

She held out the plate of biscuits. “Could you please make sure he gets these?” she asked.

The guard scowled but reached for the plate, lifting the edge of the napkin to sniff appreciatively. “He’ll get them,”

he said shortly.

“You’re welcome to one of the biscuits, too,” Opal ventured.

A smile lit the guard’s rough face. “Thank you. They smell better than anything I get around here.”

Opal breathed a sigh of relief and began to back away.

“I’ll be back later today for that plate.”

“It’ll be here,” the guard said, and shut the door.

Opal was smiling as she walked away. She had expected to see Matthew today, but it was okay as long as he got the plate. Mrs. Hamilton had finally told her what she carried every time she went there. Once the men polished off their biscuits, they would open the false bottom of the warming dish and fill it with sheets of Matthew’s writing. The story of the prison and the fate of the men trapped there would be making its way north—

along with other coded military information.

Once again, Opal had done her job.

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