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

Chapter Thirty-Four

Thomas was white-faced as he strode up the sidewalk and onto his porch, where he stopped for a moment and turned to face east. As he stared out over the city, he tried to penetrate the surrounding woods with his anxious eyes. He felt as if there were hostile enemies viewing the city already. Frustration rose up in him as he tried, in his mind, to see Cromwell Plantation—to know if Carrie was safe.

He raised a clenched fist and slammed it against the porch column, completely ignoring the pain that shot through him. Not knowing was about to drive him crazy.

“You haven’t heard from her yet?”

Startled, Thomas spun around to look at Robert who had just strode out on the porch.

“I got here a little while ago,” Robert said. “I’ve been waiting inside.”

Thomas shook his head heavily. “No. I haven’t heard from her yet.”

“You are aware of the news from the front?” Robert asked grimly.

“That we have not only lost Yorktown, but now Williamsburg has fallen as well?” Thomas asked. “Yes, I know.” His face twisted in agony. “Why does Carrie not come? Why not at least send a letter? Does she not know I am losing my mind with worry?” He groaned. “Is it not bad enough that I could be watching the death of all I have ever held dear? Must I lose her as well?” Once again he raised his fist, but then let it fall to his side. The agony welling up in him was too familiar. He had lost Abigail.

He couldn’t lose Carrie, too.

Robert moved forward and gripped his shoulder. “We don’t know yet why Carrie hasn’t returned your letters.

You said yourself she might never have received them.”

“Why doesn’t she write me then?” Thomas cried. He quickly answered his own question. “I know. I know. The mail may not be coming through here either. I’ve thought

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of that. But why hasn’t she come? It is impossible not to wonder if she hasn’t come because something has already happened to her.” Once again he could feel his emotions building to a bursting point. “And here I sit in Richmond, while my daughter could be hurt or captured by those damn Yankees trying to destroy my home.”

Thomas knew he was becoming unreasonable, but he couldn’t seem to control it. The last weeks of strain and crisis had driven him almost to the breaking point. The worry over Carrie was about to send him catapulting over the edge.

Robert turned away to look over the city.

Thomas was torturing the young man with his thoughts, but he wasn’t saying anything Robert hadn’t already thought about himself. When Robert finally turned back, the agonized look on his face told Thomas he was right.

“I would like to tell you Carrie is going to be fine,”

Robert said in a troubled voice. “The facts say something very different. McClellan’s army will soon begin to move from Williamsburg. I believe their route will take them east of your plantation, but already soldiers are scouting far to each side of the line in search of food for the army.

They are raiding and marauding every farm animal and crop they find along the way.”

Thomas groaned. “I’m going to the Capitol to tell Governor Letcher I am leaving for the plantation. I cannot go one more day without doing something to know Carrie is all right.”

Robert shook his head. “You can’t do that. Richmond needs you too much right now. I have talked to General Lee about going myself, but he insists I must stay here in the city, even though he has much sympathy for my situation.” He paused for a moment. “I have a plan, though.”

Thomas heard the firm command in his voice and latched onto his last words. He knew Robert was right.

He had too many responsibilities to be able to leave the city right now. It seared his soul to think he was making decisions for the whole that might end up sacrificing

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Carrie, but so far he had seen no other course of action.

“What is your plan?” he asked.

“I have spoken with one of my men. He is young, but I would trust him with my life. I have drawn him careful maps of the area leading out to the plantation. The area is new to him, but he is a crackerjack in the woods.

General Lee has given me permission to send him out. He can leave this afternoon. That’s why I’m here. To see if you agree with my plan.”

Thomas listened carefully. “What is this man’s name?”

“Warren Hobbs.”

“The soldier whose life you saved?”

“Well, from Hobbs’ viewpoint, at least,” Robert replied modestly.

Thomas turned to look out over the city again. He would have preferred an older man go after his daughter.

Hobbs was just seventeen years old. He knew, though, that the young lad was intensely loyal to Robert and would do anything for him. That kind of passion would serve him well in the task of breaching enemy lines.

Finally, he nodded. “Send him,” he said shortly.

Robert didn’t wait for him to say more. He abruptly turned and strode down the steps. With one last look at Thomas, Robert vaulted onto his horse and cantered down the road.

Thomas watched him go. Then his head bent in wordless prayer. All he could do now was wait. Wait and pray.

Robert raced back to his quarters, scattering people before him as he flew through the streets. He took no heed and never thought of slowing down. His frustration had eaten at him for days. Now there was at least some action he could take. He would allow nothing to get in his way.

“Hobbs!” he called as he swung off his horse.

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The youth was at his side in moments. He had obviously been watching for him. “Yes, Lieutenant!”

Robert looked him over closely. He was satisfied with what he saw. He had meant it when he said he would trust his life with Hobbs. “I want you to leave as soon as possible for Cromwell Plantation. I have a letter for Miss Cromwell. I’m sure it will convince her of the wisdom to return.” He smiled slightly. “Of course, this lady isn’t like many others.” His voice turned grim. “If she refuses to return with you, I want you to stay with her.”

“Yes, sir.”

Robert looked at him and spoke directly. “Your odds of protecting her against raiding Yankee soldiers are not very good.”

Hobbs grinned. “I reckon we’ve done a lot of things where the odds didn’t look too good, Lieutenant. Don’t you worry. I’ll take care of your lady.”

Robert opened his mouth to protest that Carrie wasn’t his lady, then shut it. Any fool could tell he was in love with her. Why deny it? “Thank you, Hobbs,” he said instead. “Good luck.”

Hobbs saluted and spun on his heel. “I’ll have her back here as soon as I can,” he threw over his shoulder.

He ran into one of the tents and moments later reappeared with a pack and his pistol strapped to his waist.

Robert handed him the reins of the horse he had chosen and watched until Hobbs rode out of view. He had done all he could do.

Hobbs came to a crossroads and stopped to carefully examine the map. He had already memorized it. Every detail was etched in his mind, but he didn’t intend to take any chances. He knew how important this was to the lieutenant. Careful perusal of the map confirmed what he knew, so he turned right and headed further east. Rain

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had turned the roads to mud, but if he stayed to the side and out of the ruts created by the wagons, he could press on at a fairly good pace.

He knew that he would be on this particular road for several miles. He relaxed as the beauty of the day finally began to penetrate his senses. Already, plum trees and dogwoods carpeted the woods with their pink and white blossoms. Hobbs took a deep breath, trying to pretend he was back home in his mountains. If he tried really hard, maybe he could make himself believe he was heading out on a hunting trip with his dog, Bridger. Gosh, how he missed that dog!

A sharp crack in the woods jerked him back to the present. A penetrating look convinced him it had been nothing except the deer peering out at him, but he pushed all fantasies and daydreams out of his mind nonetheless. The next crack might reveal Union soldiers advancing on Richmond. Completely alert, he continued to push forward.

He would not much longer have the luxury of a road to ride on. The lieutenant had told him it would be too dangerous to stay out in the open. He would be open game for anyone who might want to try to stop him.

He noticed the white board house Robert had described to him. It stood in abandoned misery. Hobbs was sure the inhabitants had already fled to Richmond.

He stared at it as he rode by. What would it see in the next few weeks? Would it still be standing to tell its story?

Riding more slowly now, Hobbs peered into the woods along the trail. He knew what he was looking for, but would he be able to find it? The massive oak Robert had described and penciled in on the map appeared in his view, but Hobbs still didn’t see the trail Robert had told him about. He vaulted off his horse and carefully led the animal into the woods at a slight break. He was almost fifty feet in before he saw it, a faint glimmer of a trail that could only be followed in daylight unless you knew it well.

Hobbs frowned. A quick glance at the sun told him he probably would not be able to make it all the way to the plantation before it would be too dark for him to continue.

He debated pressing on anyway, but knew that was a foolish idea. If he got lost in these strange woods, he

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would be of no help to anyone. He had maybe forty more minutes of light. He would get as far as possible and then he would stop and make camp. Tomorrow morning he would get up with the sun and keep going. It wouldn’t take him long from there.

He kept his senses alert as he rode, constantly scanning the woods for movement that would indicate an enemy presence. He had to pick his way around fallen trees and logs, once almost losing the trail in the process.

It was becoming more difficult to see in the waning light.

Finally, Hobbs spotted a small clearing where he could spend the night. Just to the right was a small stream to water his horse.

He took care of his gelding, then reached into his saddle bag and pulled out some beef and hardtack. It would have to do. He grabbed his blanket and wished he could build a fire, but it would be a dead giveaway of his position. As the sun dropped, the air cooled tremendously, reminding him it was not yet summer. He found a log to huddle up against, then pulled the blanket around him. He was perfectly comfortable. He had spent days in the mountains of Virginia with less than this.

Hobbs had barely dozed off when crashing in the woods jolted him awake. His horse snorted and pulled back against his lead in protest. Hobbs was instantly on his feet, crouched and waiting. He pulled his pistol from his waist and cocked it. He wouldn’t go down without a fight. His heart pounded as he waited for whatever was headed his way.

Moments later, a figure on horseback emerged from the darkness, obviously startled to see Hobbs crouched and waiting for him. The man swore and fumbled for his pistol.

“Touch that pistol and I’ll put a hole through you, mister,” Hobbs said in a sinister voice, glad for the darkness that would cover his youth. For now he was content to let the other man know he was armed.

The man swore again and raised his hands in the air.

“Don’t shoot,” he said.

Hobbs examined the intruder. He was not dressed in Union blues. He also didn’t have the appearance of being

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a Union spy. His accent clearly marked him as a Southerner, and he must be someone from around here if he was confident enough to follow this trail in the dark.

“Who are you?” Hobbs demanded.

“My name is Adams,” the man replied. Slowly, he lowered his hands. “You a Confederate soldier?”

“What’s it to you?”

Adams didn’t answer that question. Instead, he asked another one. “You from around here? Ain’t many people who know this trail.”

“Seeing as how you’re at the end of my pistol, it seems I should be the one asking questions,” Hobbs responded coolly. “What are you doing skulking through these woods at night?”

“Good God, man. You call that skulking? I was making enough noise to raise the dead. I sure didn’t figure anyone to be on this trail. Everybody in this area already hightailed it for Richmond. Everybody with any sense, anyway. I’m on my way there myself.”

Hobbs had to admit the man was probably telling the truth. He certainly hadn’t been skulking. Anybody would have heard him coming.

Adams continued. “I just got back from a trip and found out my wife and kids already took off. I’m trying to find them.”

He had interjected a caring tone in his voice that made Hobbs immediately suspicious. It was easy to tell it was fake, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Not every man had a good relationship with his wife. Hobbs was pretty sure Adams was just trying to reach safety while he still could. He could have even left his wife behind.

“What kind of trip?” Hobbs still held the pistol on him.

“A slave hunting trip,” Adams responded immediately.

“Got back from risking my life in Philadelphia and found out I’m probably about to lose my home, too,” he said bitterly.

Hobbs frowned. He had no use for slavery, and he certainly had no use for slave hunters, but it at least explained why a healthy male of conscription age was not wearing Confederate gray. Slave hunters were exempt from army service.

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Slowly, Hobbs lowered his pistol. “They’ll stop you at the city gates for a pass,” he said abruptly.

Adams let out a fast sigh of relief and swung from his saddle. Now that he knew Hobbs was not going to shoot him, he seemed to have a lot of questions. “How close is the Union Army?”

“They’ve taken Williamsburg. They’ll probably stay there a couple of days before they’ll march on,” Hobbs said grimly. “You’ve picked a good time to get out of here.”

Adams nodded. Then his mind seemed to turn to more immediate problems. “How do I get a pass into the city...?

What’s your name, anyway?”

Hobbs saw no reason not to tell him. “Hobbs. And I don’t know too much about passes. You’ll have to ask at the blocks.” He paused. “I’m sure they’re going to allow refugees from the country in, but it might help if you know someone of influence.”

Adams thought for a moment. “Do you know a fellow by the name of Thomas Cromwell?”

Hobbs hesitated. Something was telling him to be very cautious. This did not seem like the kind of man to be close to Thomas Cromwell. “Why?” he asked carefully.

“I know Cromwell. Used to be the overseer on his plantation. I’m sure he would vouch for me.”

Hobbs looked at the man in the little light that was left. He didn’t like the narrow lines of his face or the beady look in his eyes. Alarms were going off inside, and he knew to listen when that happened. Slave hunters had a reputation of being mean and brutal. He couldn’t see Thomas Cromwell having a man like that as an overseer.

“You say you used to be his overseer? What happened?”

“What’s it matter to you?” Adams’ voice tightened with anger.

Hobbs knew he had hit a sore point. He also knew he had no real reason to make it his business. “Just curious,” he said casually. A thought suddenly struck him. Perhaps running into Adams had been a piece of luck. If he could get him to lead him to the plantation tonight, he would lessen his chances of anything happening to Miss Cromwell. He decided to ignore the

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alarms. He could forgive the man for being a slave hunter if Adams could get him to Cromwell Plantation sooner.

“You know the way from here to Cromwell Plantation?”

Now it was Adams’ turn to study him closely. “Might.

What’s it to you?”

“That happens to be where I’m headed.”

Adams peered at him. “What for?”

It was a fair question. Why would he be headed to Cromwell Plantation when everyone else in the area was running away? “I have orders to bring Carrie Cromwell back to the city. Her father is very worried about her. I understand she is growing huge crops of food on the plantation to help feed Richmond.”

Once again Adams adopted his fake caring voice.

“Carrie Cromwell is alone on Cromwell Plantation? She hasn’t retreated to the city yet?”

Hobbs shook his head, wondering if he had said too much.

Adams was quiet for few minutes. Then he seemed to reach a decision. “I tell you what. I’m going to do you a big favor. Sure, I could lead you back to Cromwell Plantation, but it would take a lot longer for both of us to do it. I can make much faster time on my own.” He paused. “Time is critical, Hobbs. I took to this trail because I saw Union soldiers scouting the road a ways back.”

Hobbs listened, although he had no intention of going along with anything Adams might suggest. Lieutenant Borden had made Carrie Cromwell his responsibility, and he planned to finish his mission, but he was willing to hear Adams out. He had a feeling there was more going on here than he knew.

“You can go on back to the city,” Adams continued.

“I’m sure your skills are in demand there. You can tell them the Union soldiers are advancing. I’ll get Miss Cromwell and return to Richmond with her.” He gave a sympathetic laugh. “I’m sure her father is worried sick. I know I would be if she was my daughter.” He paused. “Let me guess. She has refused to leave the plantation. Carrie Cromwell can be very hard-headed.”

In spite of his attempt to sound caring and sympathetic, Hobbs heard the edge of anger in the man’s

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voice. He was certain now he had made a mistake in revealing his mission to Adams. The only thing to do was send him on his way and move on in the morning. He tried to keep his voice casual as he responded. “Thanks for your offer, Adams, but I reckon this job is mine. I started it, and I aim to finish it.”

Adams scowled. “And what if staying here in the woods tonight means harm comes to Carrie Cromwell? Her father will never get over it, and he will certainly never forgive you.”

Nor will the lieutenant, Hobbs thought. He would not be swayed, though. The lieutenant had trusted him, and Hobbs was not going to let him down. He took a deep breath and stared at the ground. “I reckon I’m gonna have to take that chance,” he said.

When Hobbs looked up again, he was staring down the barrel of Adams’ pistol. “And I don’t reckon I’m going to let you take that chance. Carrie Cromwell is too important to me.”

Hobbs shuddered at the hatred he heard in the man’s voice and cursed himself for his stupidity in letting this happen. “What’s your game, Adams?”

Adams merely shrugged. “Seeing as how you’re the one at the end of my pistol now, I reckon I get to ask the questions,” he said sarcastically. “But for your information, Miss Carrie Cromwell ain’t nobody you should be risking your life for. She ain’t nothing but a nigger lover. She and those Union fellows ought to get along just fine.”

Hobbs stared at him. He had no idea what Carrie Cromwell had done to gain the enmity of this man, but whatever it was, he was quite sure Adams deserved it. He had seen men like him before—men so full of hatred and bitterness it poured out on everyone they came in contact with. He found himself hoping Adams’ wife and kids truly were safe in Richmond, because he was quite sure they weren’t safe with him.

As he stared down the barrel of Adams’ gun, he tried to figure a way out of the mess he had placed himself in.

Wrestling Adams for his gun was out of the question. He

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for sure wouldn’t do Miss Cromwell any good if he was dead.

Adams read his mind. “You don’t even need to think about getting away. It wouldn’t hurt me none to put a bullet right between your eyes.”

“Except if Yankee soldiers in the area hear you,” Hobbs reminded him, thinking fast. “I don’t reckon you’ll be able to pass as a Yankee with that accent.” When Adams scowled, he knew he had scored a point.

Adams sat silently for a moment, never removing his eyes from Hobbs. It was almost completely dark in the woods now. The glow from the moon rising on the horizon cast the only faint light there was. “I reckon you’re right, boy. I reckon you’re right.”

Hobbs tried to duck as Adams raised his arm, but everything went black.

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