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

Chapter Thirty-Eight

As soon as Carrie entered the tunnel she noticed the box of candles and matches Moses had talked about. She picked a candle up and stared at in wonder. Who had put it there? Her father? Her grandfather? Her great-grandfather? She struck a match, lit her candle, and stuck a huge handful of them in her dress pocket. Thank goodness she had not undressed for bed last night. Her present situation would be even more ridiculous.

She reached behind her and pulled the door to the tunnel firmly shut. Once it was closed, not even a shred of light seeped around the edges to reveal its presence.

Whoever built this tunnel had been a master craftsman.

Carrie stared at it for a long moment, wondering at the skill and labor it had taken to build what she had walked through this morning. She still could not believe she had never known of its existence. Had her mother known?

She and her father would have much to talk about when she reached Richmond.

That thought was enough to pull her back to the present. First she had to discover if there was a tunnel that led to the barn. If there wasn’t, she would find another way to sneak there once it was dark. She had already decided she would not leave Granite. Besides, he was probably her only way out of here. She stood still and tried to envision where the barn was from the end of the tunnel. All the many twists and turns had made her lose all sense of direction. She wasn’t even sure where the tunnel had come out on the river. The only thing she was sure of was that the door would be off the right side. She would begin there.

Carrie raised the candle high so it would cast the greatest amount of light. She began to creep down the passage, her eyes glued to the wall for anything that would reveal the presence of another tunnel. An hour later she was startled when she heard a muffled shout above her head. She moved to extinguish her candle and

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realized how silly she was being. No one could possibly know she was down here.

She realized she was once more under the house. Part of her longed to stay and see what she could discover, but the realistic side of her said she needed to concentrate on nothing but finding the door to the stable—if one existed.

Only then could she think of something else. She turned around and began to retrace her steps, moving even more slowly this time.

She had gone barely a hundred yards when she stopped suddenly. She held the candle closer to the wall and peered at it intently. Was that a faint outline in the bricks? She knelt down to get a better look, and ran her hands lightly over the wall. She could just barely discern a crack in the bricks, but where was the handle? She rocked back on her heels and stared at it, then ran her hands along the outline again. There was simply no handle. Suddenly, she felt one of the bricks shift slightly under her hand. Carrie held her breath while she shook the brick until it came loose in her hand. She laid it aside and leaned closer, holding the candle to the hole.

“The handle,” she breathed triumphantly. “My great-grandfather was a genius,” she whispered.

Carrie stood and pulled at the metal handle. The door opened slowly but easily. There was no way of knowing if this tunnel led to the stable, but there was only one way to find out. She lit another candle, stepped into the gaping hole, and pressed on.

The tunnel made three turns and ended abruptly.

Carrie stared at the ladder set into the wall in front of her.

Where did it lead? What was on the other side of the door above her head? For all she knew she could walk right into a group of Union soldiers. How could she determine where she was?

“I believe that’s one of the finest horses I’ve ever seen.”

Carrie gasped and shrank back as a voice sounded just above her head. She recognized the captain’s voice immediately.

“Looks like a slab of granite, Captain. A mighty fine slab of granite.”

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Carrie didn’t recognize the second voice, but she was relieved to know it wasn’t the fellow named Clyde. She didn’t want him anywhere near her horse.

The unidentified voice continued. “You would look mighty fine riding that horse, Captain. Since Miss Carrie Cromwell wasn’t here to greet you, I reckon she would want to extend some of that famous Southern hospitality and give you her horse.”

Carrie clinched her teeth to keep from crying out.

The captain’s voice, when he answered, was amused.

“I think you’re right, James. It would be a shame to let a fine animal like this go to waste. I want you to tell the other men the barn is off-limits. Tomorrow afternoon, once we’re done cleaning this place out, this beautiful Thoroughbred will carry me away from here.”

“You’ll be the envy of everyone,” James said.

“I’m afraid you may be right. Here’s hoping I can hold onto this animal when some of our many generals lay eyes on him.”

The captain laughed, and Carrie heard him slap something.

“Well, old man, you take it easy in here. We’ll clear out of here tomorrow.”

Not if I have anything to say about it, Carrie thought to herself. She unclenched her fists as the footsteps above her faded away. She had discovered valuable information.

The men were indeed planning on spending a night there, and the barn would supposedly be empty of soldiers. So far everything was going her way. Carrie forced herself to breathe evenly and considered her options.

By her best calculations it must be around ten o’clock in the morning. She had decided she wouldn’t make her move until almost midnight. By then, most of the soldiers should be sleeping, and she would be able to catch any guards by surprise. That left fourteen hours to fill.

Confident now no one could hear her when she was in the tunnel, she decided to move back into the house and see if she could determine what was going on.

She turned and retraced her steps until she reached the main tunnel and carefully used the brick that had concealed the handle to prop the heavy door open. She didn’t want to have to repeat her initial search. Pulling

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against it firmly, she satisfied herself it was secure and then set off toward the house.

Her stomach growled loudly, but Carrie shook her head and pressed on. She would just have to be hungry until she reached Richmond. It was a small price to pay for her freedom.

She was even with what she knew was her father’s office when she finally heard voices. Carrie strained to hear what was being said. Whoever it was, the voices were very low. She had to press her head almost into the bricks before she could make out the quiet words.

“Where in the world you figure Miss Carrie got off to?”

Carrie clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from crying out in delight. It was Sam! They must not have hurt him too badly. She could imagine the perplexed look on his kindly face and the worry darkening his eyes. He had taken seriously his job of caring for her. She longed to reveal her presence but knew she couldn’t.

“It’s like that girl disappeared into thin air,” Opal said.

Tears filled Carrie’s eyes as she realized both her friends were safe. The soldiers must have put them in the office while they searched the house. Sam’s next words confirmed her suspicions.

“I sure wish I could get up there in her room and look for myself. Must be somethin’ magic up there that took her away. I heard her in that room myself, not two minutes ‘fore them soldiers came stomping up on the porch.”

Carrie smiled. It had indeed been magic. All these years she had known deep in her heart that the beautiful mirror held secrets, but never in her wildest imagination had she envisioned the secret she discovered. Gratitude toward her great-grandparents rose in her like a wave.

She knew there had been no more Indian attacks after they had completed the house. The tunnel had simply been there for years, a hidden extension of the house.

When it was needed, it was there, patiently waiting to be put to use.

“I believe Miss Carrie is okay, Sam. We may never know how, but somehow that girl got away. Why, she’s probably riding into Richmond right now.”

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Carrie smiled and sunk down against the wall. In spite of everything, she was suddenly very tired. Two nights of no sleep and the anxiety of the last few days had caught up with her. She leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes. She would rest here, close to her friends.

If anything else happened to them, she would know about it.

The sharp slamming of a door jolted her awake. Heart pounding, she realized she must have slept, but for how long? What time was it? Her immediate thought was to follow the tunnel back to the river so she could look outside and determine the time of day. A sudden voice held her where she was.

“I say we bring him in here, Captain. If he really is from around here, these slaves will know him.”

Carrie leaned forward anxiously as Clyde’s voice erupted on the other side of the wall.

“You’re making too much out of this, Clyde,” the captain protested. “Moses explained what happened.

Adams had someone with him when we stopped him.

They were hiding in the woods. Moses was still in the store gathering food when we took off. When he came out, the two men jumped him and tied him up.”

“Adams wasn’t big enough to even faze our nigger giant,” Clyde said coldly.

“Two men surprising him could certainly pull it off.

You saw how scratched and cut he was. I believe he’s telling the truth. Besides, if he really helped the Cromwell girl escape—which I believe is completely ludicrous—

what in the world would he be doing back here?”

“I don’t know,” Clyde admitted, “but I got me a feeling, Captain, and it ain’t gonna hurt none to bring him in here. The old ones might be able to pull off faking like they never seen him, but these kids sure can’t.”

Carrie breathed a sigh of relief. Moses had returned to his unit and made up a story like he said he would. She was confident in Sam and Opal’s ability to reveal nothing, but Clyde was right about one thing. Any of the other children in the quarters would have been a dead giveaway. They all worshipped Moses. But Fannie’s kids had never laid eyes on him. Barely breathing, she pressed herself against the wall and waited.

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Soon she heard heavy footsteps approaching again.

“Have any of you ever seen this man before?” the captain asked sharply.

“Don’t know as how I’d be havin’ a reason to know a Yankee nigger, Captain,” Sam drawled.

Carrie almost laughed out loud as she pictured his wide-eyed innocence.

“This man isn’t a Yankee,” the captain snapped. “He’s from around here.”

There was a slight pause. “Nope. Don’t reckon as how I’ve ever seen him ‘fore.”

“What about you, woman?”

“I ain’t never laid eyes on him neither,” Opal said easily. “Is that man really a Yankee soldier?”

“Let’s say he helps us with information we need around here,” the captain responded.

Clyde spoke up then. “Ask the children,” he said impatiently.

“I’ve been watching the children,” the captain responded. “I’d have known in an instant if they knew Moses. Nope, Clyde, this time you’re barking up the wrong tree.” There was a slight pause. “Moses, I’m sorry.

Everyone is a little tense right now.”

“I understand, Captain,” Moses responded calmly.

“What would you like me to do now?”

“How about staying in here? Maybe you can get these slaves to talk. I think they know more than they’re saying.

Try to convince them we mean them no harm. Maybe they can be of some use to us.”

“I’ll see what I can do, Captain,” Moses responded.

Carrie almost dissolved into laughter. The drama unfolding on the other side of the wall was better than any she had read in a book. She yearned to reveal her presence.

She stayed completely still during the long silence that followed. She knew Moses was waiting until he was sure no one was lurking around to hear his conversation with Sam and Opal. She smiled as she imagined the looks of delight on their faces at seeing their old friend.

Carrie strained to hear, but they were talking so lowly she could only catch snatches.

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“Carrie is safe...”

“How...?

“Just know she’s safe...”

“You really ...?

“Yes...spy.”

Carrie ground her teeth in frustration at not being able to hear the conversation.

“Took me hours...” Moses said.

Carrie remembered she still had no idea what time it was. It could be night for all she knew. How long had she slept? She would have to go back out to the river to be sure. Tears were in her eyes when she turned away. She didn’t know when she would see her friends again. Being on the other side of the wall, while frustrating, had also been a comfort.

She held the candle high again and moved down the tunnel. She hurried past the turn that led to the stable, and within minutes she was once more at the entrance to the river. She reached eagerly for the door handle and then froze. Though the thick door muffled it, she was certain she heard voices. She knelt and pressed her ear to the crack.

Was that the slap of oars on water? Were the voices so muffled because they were out on the water, not directly overhead or beside her? Carrie waited for what seemed like forever. It had been a long while since she had heard anything. Finally, she could stand it no longer.

She held her breath as she cracked the door open and listened. Nothing. Bolder now, she swung the door open wide enough for her to step through. The thickness of the brush should offer her enough protection. Again, only silence. Confident now, she stepped out onto the bank.

A faraway yell caused her to jerk her head around in time to see a large boat slip around the curve of the river.

Carrie stared. Was that what she had heard? Was a Union boat moving in to make an assault on the city?

The sun was almost resting on the horizon. She had slept longer than she thought, but she still had several hours before she could make her escape. She watched as the sun slipped down, kissing the river one final time before it bid adieu. Sitting down on a rock to think, she watched as night slowly claimed its dominion over the

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world. She was sure now that her father had tried to contact her. He would have known of the danger advancing toward her, but something must have gone wrong. He must be frantic.

Stars were twinkling in the sky when Carrie stood and walked back into the tunnel. She had decided to spend the last few hours under the barn. That way she would know if anyone came or went. Maybe it would give her some idea of how heavily guarded the plantation was. It took her only a few minutes to reach the same spot she discovered earlier. She stood still and listened carefully.

She didn’t hear voices, but that didn’t mean anything.

There could be one soldier on guard with no one to talk to.

Carrie soon realized she had no way to keep track of the amount of time passing. Then she remembered her first candle had burned for about an hour before going out—or at least what seemed to be about an hour. This crude method would at least give her an idea. As close as she could figure, it had been about eight o’clock when she reentered the tunnel. That meant four candles would take her close to midnight.

Carrie sank down on the floor and leaned her head back against the wall. Thankfully her nap had refreshed her. She would not have to worry about falling asleep.

She would continue to map out her strategy while she waited.

Carrie looked thoughtfully at the remaining candle she had stuck into the dirt on the floor. It had only an inch left to burn. It was time for her to make her move. The only sound she heard since she settled down to wait was an occasional whinny from Granite, inquiring as to why she still had not come to let him out. The familiar sound comforted her.

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She moved over to the ladder and tested it one more time. It looked sturdy, but if it came dislodged, she would never be able to reach the door over her head. She was still uncertain where it led, but her instincts told her it would open up into the tack room. Hitching her dress up around her, Carrie began to climb quietly. She knew the candle she had left burning would extinguish itself soon.

Carrie reached the top of the ladder. Her heart pounded as she pressed her hand against the door. It was heavy, but it moved easily enough. Keeping a tight hold on it so that it wouldn’t fall back and make a loud noise, she carefully stepped up and out into utter darkness.

Now she was sure she was in the tack room. As she waited for her eyes to adjust, praying no one could hear her racing heart, she could barely make out the saddles and bridles lining the walls. Moving ever so cautiously, she eased the door back down. Never in all the years she had spent in this tack room had she guessed the secret that lay beneath her feet.

She stood completely still and listened carefully. There was not a sound. Then, moving with the certainty of familiarity, Carrie eased over to the large trunk pushed against the wall. She almost groaned at the creaking noise when she opened it. She waited quietly again. Had anyone heard the noise? Convinced there was no one close by, she reached into the trunk and pulled out a pair of her father’s riding pants, a shirt and a jacket. She held them close to her face and breathed in. The smell of her father gave her a feeling of courage. Just a little while longer and she would be safe in Richmond with him.

Her jaw tightened when she realized how much she had to overcome still. Moving fast now, she undressed and tossed her skirts aside in a heap. She slipped into her father’s clothes, rolling up the pants and the sleeves to make sure they wouldn’t hamper her movement. She wished she had a mirror. She was quite sure that no matter how she looked, she would rather dress this way all the time. The freedom of movement she felt in her father’s clothes was wonderful.

Determined to make her move soon, Carrie stashed her dress in the trunk and groped around until she found a hat. She had unbraided her hair while she was waiting

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below. Now she quickly piled it on top of her head and pulled the cap down snugly. She was hoping to pass for a man in the dark. She had thought it all through carefully.

Carrie crept toward the door, then pressed her ear against it. She knew there might be someone standing on the other side, but there was only one way to find out.

She took a deep breath, pushed the door open, and eased out into the aisle. The time for being careful had passed.

Speed was all that mattered now.

Leaving the tack room door open, Carrie flew down the aisle and slipped the latch to Granite’s stall. His joyous whinny was exactly what she had expected. Saddling him was out of the question. She could not afford either the noise or the time. She would have to ride bareback.

“What was that?” she heard a voice mutter from just outside the door.

Quick as a flash, she slipped the bridle into Granite’s willing mouth, grabbed a handful of mane and leapt onto his back. She leaned forward and yelled into his ear,

“Run!”

Granite bolted out of his stall door and was flying when he hit the stable entrance. The man who had jumped up to investigate fell back, yelling and cursing.

Carrie leaned low over Granite’s neck and held tightly to his mane with one hand. She had never fallen off her horse, and now was certainly not the time to start.

“Stop!” a man screamed behind her. She heard the crack of a rifle. Carrie leaned even lower and urged Granite on. More rifle shots rang out behind her. She heard the whistle as one flew by her head. Granite seemed to skim the ground as he raced across the pasture. Carrie knew they were clearly visible in the moonlight. Had she not spent hours watching Granite graze on moonlit nights? She was also quite certain not one of those men had a horse that could catch Granite with such a head start.

All of a sudden, her body rocked forward with a sharp jolt. She cried out and grabbed onto Granite’s mane more tightly as pain exploded in her right shoulder. One of the bullets had hit its mark. Gritting her teeth against the

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pain, she crouched down closer to her horse’s neck and willed herself not to think about the fire burning in her body. She had no choice but to press on.

Shots still rang out, but they were more distant now.

Carrie would have relaxed a little if she hadn’t known what was ahead. This escape through the pasture meant there was no gate to exit through. She had never jumped without a saddle, and even then no more than two feet.

The fence racing up on them was five feet tall. Carrie gripped Granite’s mane tighter and prayed she would make it.

Granite never hesitated. One minute he was flying across the ground, the next moment he was soaring through the air. Carrie shouted with exhilaration as he landed smoothly on the other side and continued to run.

Never had she experienced such a thrill. For a moment, the pain of her shoulder faded away. She had always suspected riding would be much more fun dressed like a man. Now she was certain of it.

Her exhilaration lasted only a moment. She was quite sure the captain would send his men after her. She had enough of a head start to make it to the hidden trail, but only if she pressed on. She slowed Granite to a fast trot and scanned the woods along the road until she found the landmark she was looking for. She eased Granite into the woods and pulled him to a stop no more than a hundred feet later, wrapping her arms around his neck, and talking to him quietly. Warm blood ran down her back, soaking her father’s shirt. She had to do something to staunch it, but not yet.

Minutes later, she heard what she was waiting for.

Rapid hoof-beats were faint at first, but became louder as they drew close. Carrie held her breath as she waited for them to pass. Only then would she press on.

The horses stopped. “We couldn’t have just lost her like that,” she heard the captain growl in a frustrated voice.

“Didn’t look like no girl on that horse,” one soldier protested. “Whoever raced off on that devil looked like a man. Sure as heck rode like one.”

“I don’t care what it looked like,” the captain snapped.

“I caught a good look at them as they raced across the

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pasture. There isn’t a man in this country shaped like that. No, men, we’ve been outwitted by a woman.”

Carrie grinned to herself in the darkness as she stroked Granite’s neck and willed him to stand still.

“What do we do now, Captain? Keep on looking?”

“I’m afraid our efforts would be futile. You heard what Adams told us. There are trails through these woods that nobody but locals know about.” He paused, then continued bitterly. “For all I know, she’s listening to us right now.”

“Want us to shoot some bullets into the woods?” one voice called cheerfully.

Carrie stiffened and wondered if she should risk revealing her position by allowing Granite his head in a dash through the woods.

“Don’t waste the bullets, men. We don’t really need Miss Carrie Cromwell. It was her horse I wanted. If she is in there, you could risk shooting that fine animal. I don’t want that. She outwitted us this time. We won’t always win the game.” His voice was amused. “That was one of the finest pieces of riding I ever witnessed. I still can’t believe she jumped that fence. And bareback! Good Lord.”

Carrie grinned again. She had a feeling in different circumstances she would have liked the captain.

“Let’s go, men. Carrie Cromwell has her horse, but we have her plantation, her slaves and all her crops. We haven’t done too badly.”

Carrie’s grin disappeared as the triumph of her daring escape evaporated. The captain was right. They hadn’t done too badly.

It took only minutes for her to be assured she was alone once more. Only then did she slip her father’s shirt off and rip off a large piece. Granite stood quietly. Carrie gritted her teeth as she wrapped the heavy cloth around her neck and under her armpit. She pulled tightly, wincing at the pain, until she was sure there was sufficient pressure to staunch her shoulder’s bleeding.

She shook her head to push away her lightheadedness and pressed her lips together in determination.

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She gave Granite his head, knowing he would follow the trail they had entered on. She would be in Richmond by morning.

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