Echoes of Dark and Light (12 page)

“Sir?”

“I hope you found your first day agreeable.”

“Just fine, sir.”

“Good. Now if you’ll excuse me.” He returned our salutes and then sauntered over to the next campfire.

As soon as he had walked out of ear shot, Kenny reeled on Mike.

“You brown-nosing suck up! Don’t tell me you think the captain buys all that ‘I’m an eager soldier’ crap!”

Mike turned a haughty eye on Kenny. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Now you heard the captain, time for shut eye.” He turned his back on us and set about extinguishing the fire.

“Guess the card game’s over. Come on, Bobbi.” Toby led the way back to our tent.

Yawning, I stumbled after him. He didn’t say another word, not even a ‘good night’. He still felt miffed at me. Well, it was probably for the best, despite the nagging regret gnawing at my conscious.

Toby sacked out immediately. I, on the other hand, laid on my bedroll staring at the canvas walls patterned with tree shadows swaying in the slight breeze. Despite exhaustion pulling at my bones and the hour being past midnight, my eyes refused to close. I gave up after a while, deciding to write a letter to Emma. I owed her a real letter letting her know I’d arrived safe and sound in none other than her own pa’s army. And as soon as she knew where to write, I’d be receiving mail in return. How I longed for words from home.

November 1, 1863

Dear Emma,

I’m attempting to write to you by the light of the moon, but that’s proving a bit tricky as the moon seems determined to slip behind the clouds. I don’t want to disturb my new tent mate with a lantern, so I’m making due with what nature offers. I really should be getting some much-needed sleep, but for now, my eyes refuse to close. Instead, I decided to write to my best friend.

As you probably guessed, I have finally arrived down south, Tennessee to be specific, and I’ve joined up with the Union Army. But what you probably never would have guessed, ‘cause I certainly wouldn’t have, is that I managed to join up with the 27
^th
Michigan Volunteer Infantry. Sound familiar? Thank God your pa didn’t recognize my name, or maybe you never mentioned me to him. Either way, I am now Private Bobbi Rivers, assigned to the Army of the Ohio. Impressive, eh? Well, let me tell you, it’s not as glamorous as it sounds. Today, we spent hours upon hours marching; marching in circles, marching in lines, marching in place…So, I guess now I officially know how to march, which is good since when the sun rises, our camp is packing up and moving out. And let me tell you, that will be a major event because the camp contains about a zillion people! It should be a sight to see. Captain Truckey didn’t mention where we are headed tomorrow, and I didn’t ask, but I guess I’ll have a chance to practice those marching skills.

I’ve started searching for Robert, but I’ve no good news to share yet. I have learned one important searching technique, and that is not to announce that the person being searched for is presumed dead. The task looms hugely before me, and I’m trying not to become daunted. My tent mate offered to help, and just between you and me, I need all the help I can get, but I did refuse his offer (and refused it a bit rudely, I’m afraid). But it’s for the best. I’m practically sleeping shoulder to shoulder with this guy, and it’s going to be hard enough keeping my secrets from him. His name’s Toby, by the way, and he’s from the south. I know, my curiosity sparked, too; why would a southern boy be fighting for the Union? I’m dying to know, but I’m trying to keep to myself and it’s practically killing me keeping my mouth closed (you’re laughing right now, aren’t you? I admit it, I do tend to talk a lot). All in all, Toby seems a decent enough fellow; I like how he has a basic respect for others. There’s this one fellow named Woody, he’s a bit on the simple side. Toby offers him support and friendship, seeing beyond his lack of genius. Oh, and then there’s this fellow everyone calls Preacher. Why, you ask? Because every other word out of his mouth sounds like a Bible-toting preacher in the middle of a steamy Sunday sermon. But Toby seems to accept him for himself, annoying quirks and all. Yeah, Toby is okay; he has a good sense of humor and an even temper, though I’ve somehow managed to make him angry more than once already.

I’m homesick; I miss Gran and Robby dreadfully. Would you mind checking in on them now and again? Especially with winter looming (has Marquette had its first snowfall yet?). I miss you, and I hope that I’ll soon be home and introducing you to my big brother Robert.

Your friend,

Bobbi

P.S. Captain Truckey seems to be a fair-minded sort of fellow. I think I’m going to like him just fine.

As I folded the word-crowded page and carefully inserted it into an envelope, a deep, grating thunder grumbled out from Toby’s bedroll.

Great, my tent mate snores…really loud.

I glanced over at him and sighed before crawling into my own blanket. After a moment, I tried rolling over and pulling my balled-up jacket over my head. This promised to be a long, noisy, sleepless journey.

Raw blisters popped and tore on my aching feet, and a deep throbbing moved up my back with each step. We’d been marching for days. Exhaustion blurred my mind so that just exactly how many days had passed slipped out of my grasp.
Well, maybe if I thought really hard…eleven.
We’d been marching for eleven straight days. At least the sun decided to finally make an appearance. For the past ten days, rain had fallen almost constantly from the ominous gray clouds, soaking every one of my meager belongings. I pulled off my cap, completely wrinkled from the constantly wringing, and absorbed the winter sun on my damp head.

Captain Truckey had explained the game plan, though Toby warned me that plans could change with little or no notice. But for now, we marched toward Lenoir, Tennessee to assist in preventing the southern Lieutenant General Longstreet from advancing. When we’d set out on November first, I took an active interest in just how an army of this size undertook such a move. With order, discipline, precision and hard work, that’s how. But after days of marching long past sunset, and stumbling into my bedroll on a belly half full of cold salt pork and hay bales, I could care less. One night, Toby and I had even drawn guard duty. I’m ashamed to admit that Toby caught me dozing on my feet. To his credit, he never criticized or reported my mistake. Though, come to think, he’d barely said three words to me since the poker game.

I glanced over at him, his face drawn and slightly pale, his uniform splattered, his boots plowing through the thick mud. As if feeling my gaze, he offered a weary smile.

He didn’t seem angry, so why wouldn’t he talk to me? I’d expected the grueling task of keeping my own mouth shut, but I thought at least I’d have the distractions of listening to others chat. All around, men carried on conversations, but they kept their voices to a minimum, and I couldn’t hear anything over the dim roar of wagon wheels and thousands of feet sloshing through mud. Then again, conversations probably just centered around complaints, and I could complain to myself more than enough.

I glanced over at Toby again, wondering what ran though his mind. At that moment, a mounted officer trotted down the lines with an announcement.

“Marching through lunch today, men, marching through lunch…”

A chorus of groans and complaints followed him down the road. The foul crap they fed us wasn’t much, but my stomach growled in protest anyway.
No lunch and no conversation! That’s it, I’d had enough!

“Damn it, Toby! I give up! Please talk to me, I’ll do anything!”

A slow smile spread across his face as his molasses brown eyes turned to meet mine. “You lasted longer than I expected.”

“What?”

He shrugged his pack to a more comfortable position before replying. “Well, you declared yourself a loner, that you kept to yourself. Now I can respect that, and I have respected that for the past ten days. But I figured you’d start feeling a bit lonely sooner or later.”

His reasoning irked me, and I scowled at him. He just tossed me an amused grin which irked me even more.
He didn’t know me. I told him I keep to myself, and that’s just what I am gonna do! So he will just have to suffer without me!

An angry burst of energy flowed through my legs and I pounded my feet into the mud puddles with a vengeance.

Within seconds, water soaked completely through my only remaining somewhat dry-ish pair of socks. And along with my socks, the puddles seem to douse my anger as well. Who was I kidding? Toby didn’t appear to be suffering in the slightest from loneliness. I, on the other hand, teetered on the edge of insanity.

Toby patiently waited while I argued with myself and lost.

I sighed in frustration. “Okay, so I’m lonely, big deal.”

“Friends?”

I hesitate, and then nodded reluctantly.
Casual friends didn’t exchange deep, dark secrets; I could do casual.

He stuck his hand out to me and we shook on our new agreement.

“Whew, I’m glad you finally gave in’ cause I don’t think I could have held my tongue much longer.”

“I find that hard to believe,” I muttered. He’d looked perfectly at peace with himself.

“Believe me. But I didn’t want to step on your toes.”

“Yeah, right. You really just wanted to see me crack.”

He dipped his head sheepishly. “Maybe just a little.”

A small smile oozed through the grime on my face, but it quickly wilted. I glanced uneasily at him. “So who goes first?”

“I will,” he volunteered.

A small wave of relief washed over me at delaying the inevitable. “What makes you think I’ll follow through on my half of the bargain?”

“Oh, you’ll follow through; you have a very trustworthy face.”

Don’t be so quick to trust what you think you see.

“So,” he continued, “ask me something. What do you want to know?”

I didn’t even have to think twice. “How does a southerner find himself risking his life fighting for the Union?”

“You don’t hold back, do you? Nothing simple for a first question, like ‘did I have a dog while growing up’ or ‘how many siblings do I have’. Although, if I were you, I’d have asked the exact same thing.” He took a deep breath. “Well, it’s no secret. I was born in Texas on our family ranch. My father oversees the operations with the help of my three older brothers. I came along a bit later when Randy, Dean and Jonathon had all grown into their mid to late teen years. They had chores, schooling, and girls to keep them busy, and couldn’t be bothered with a little brother running around underfoot. So to say the least, we never got very close.

“Another pathetic fact of life at the mighty Dove Ranch is that Father owns fourteen slaves; eleven ranch hands, a foreman named Elijah, and Mary to help Mother in the house. And of course, Sam. I’d a been very lonely if not for Sam.”

Toby paused, taking another gulp of water. I waited, anxious to know more, but not about to ask any more questions. He’d gotten the better of me once, but from then on, I’d be so patient, it’ll drive him nuts. He glanced over at me with a smile, appearing anything but nuts.

“Want some?” he asked, offering his canteen.

I shook my head. I’d absorbed enough rainwater to last a lifetime.

“Sam is Elijah and Mary’s son, born two months before me. Since part of Mary’s job included looking after me, Sam and I grew up together. To a lot of people, it might seem strange to see a white boy and a black boy playing together, but to me and Sam, it just seemed normal. Heck, we used the same nappies; we couldn’t help becoming best friends.

“We spent almost every waking moment together, playing in the fields, riding horses, stealing cookies from the kitchen, generally getting in everyone’s way and causing trouble. So then we got ourselves a list of chores to keep us busy for at least part of the day. But we did those together, too, and had a wonderful time whether we shoveled horse manure or pounded dust out of the sitting room rugs.

“When time came for me to start schooling, Father arranged to have a tutor come to the ranch, and I got stuck in the study on those perfectly sunny, blue-sky days, learning numbers and letters. Neither Sam nor I understood why he couldn’t learn also, seeing as how we did everything else together. So, Sam took to sneaking into the study, hiding out and eavesdropping on my lessons. And then we studied together, too, though I must admit, Sam proved a much better student than me.