Echoes of Dark and Light (41 page)

“I should have recognized your work, Ernie,” Toby sighed as we arrived back at the guard shack. “Always out for yourself.”

“Who else is there?” Ernie said, grinning. He dipped his cap in thanks, stowed the sack of beans in his coat, and strolled off towards the latrines.

“Come on,” Toby motioned, unhooking the bar across the door. “We don’t have much time.”

“Thanks, Toby, for giving up the last of the coffee. It means a lot to me.”

He shrugged, grinning. “This is more important. Besides, it barely even qualified as coffee. We could have boiled dirty socks for better flavor.”

I grabbed a glowing lantern and we crept into the dark, cramped prisoner shack. It stood mostly empty except for the drafty breezes creeping through the cracks and one prisoner huddled on the ground against the far wall. The lantern chased some of the chill from the bleak and hungry room, but could do nothing for the stench emanating from the overflowing slop bucket in the far corner. I tried to ignore it, tried to breathe through my mouth, but then I could almost taste it, so I switched back to my nose. I turned my back on it, holding my dirty sleeve up to my nose to block some of the offensive odor, and then carefully approached the fellow who knew my brother. Toby held back, watching him and blocking the door, and I suspected, trying to catch a fresh breeze.

The prisoner warily watched our approach, but didn’t say a word. I squatted down in front of him, and set the lantern carefully on the ground.

“I need to ask you a few questions.”

“Yeah, and I need somebody to empty the slop jar,” he sneered. “How likely is that to happen?”

“This is very important!”

“So is my sense of smell!” he belted and then clamped his mouth shut, crossing his arms over his boney chest.

I turned back to look at Toby, at a loss for what to do. Toby approached, stooped down and unloaded his pockets just out of reach of the prisoner. On the ground sat two cans of beans and a can of condensed milk. Toby kept a tight grip on a can opener. I shot Toby a surprised look. I knew he’d been saving those cans for a special occasion.

“Now do you see some reason in talking to us?” Toby asked, waving the can opener.

The prisoner eyed the cans of food hungrily, even licking his lips. “Okay, okay, I give. I’ll talk for the food, use of the can opener, plus getting rid of that.” He nodded at the grotesque bucket.

Before I could protest, Toby nodded. “Deal. You’ll get use of this,” he tossed the tool up and caught it again, “after you answer the questions, and for good will, I’ll set the bucket outside. However, you don’t give us what we want, and the bucket comes right back in and the food leaves with us.”

Before I could move, Toby carefully picked up the slop bucket with his fingertips and carefully, slowly, crossed over to the door.

I would owe Toby big time for that.

“So, what do you want to know,” the prisoner asked. “I’m a busy man and I don’t have all day.”

I glanced around at the empty prison cell and then looked back at him with a raised brow.

He shrugged. “I have an early golf game with General Grant, and then I’m lunching with Mrs. Lincoln at the White House, so hurry it up. Obviously, this isn’t about some top secret war business; they don’t usually send in privates to interrogate prisoners of war. I must admit, you’ve got my curiosity peaked.”

My excitement slowly dribbled down to nervousness.
Maybe I’d misunderstood him back in the woods. He doesn’t seem to recognize me, doesn’t seem to still have me confused with Robert.

“Don’t—” My voice wobbled and I quickly cleared my throat and restarted. “Don’t you recognize me?”

The prisoner peered at me through squinty eyes. “Well, maybe you look a bit familiar. Why, should I know you?”

“Back in the clearing, just a few hours ago, you called me Robert Rivers.” I waited, hands clenched in tight fists at my aching sides.

“Oh, yeah, I remember. But with your face lit up a bit, I see I’m mistaken. You’re obviously not Robert. Sorry, my fault.” He shrugged.

My breath caught in my chest. I had to force out my words in a whisper. “But you know Robert Rivers? You’ve seen him? He’s alive?”

The prisoner nodded. “If you’re speaking of a tall fellow with dark red hair, from Upper Michigan? Yeah, he’s alive. At least, as of about two weeks ago.”

Toby grabbed my shoulder in a tight grip. I hadn’t even heard him return to the room. “Where is he?” Toby demanded. “Where is Robert Rivers?”

“First give me the can opener.”

Toby tossed it at his feet.

The prisoner snatched up the tool and clumsily attacked a can of beans.

“Where is he?” Toby growled.

The man spoke over his frantic efforts to get at the food. “Your Robert is locked up at Belle Isle Prison.”

I stared at him, mouth gaping open, my brain too overloaded to speak. Toby pulled me aside.

“So we’ve found your Robert. What’s the next step?”

I had no hope of removing the grin from my face, so I spoke around it. “Don’t know. I’d never thought this far ahead. But did you hear, Toby? This guy has seen Robert with his own eyes, only two weeks ago!” I started edging back toward the prisoner, feeling if I could stand closer to him, I’d be closer to Robert. Silly, I knew, but with all the lightning bolts striking white hot on every inch of my body, my brain refused to reason.

Toby latched onto my elbow. “I think we need to proceed very carefully. We don’t want to get this close, only to have Robert slip through our fingers.”

I blinked at him, the grin sliding slightly. “What’s the matter? It seems somewhat straightforward. Robert’s at Belle Isle. Next step, I go and get him.”

“Come on, Bobbi. You’ve been in the war long enough to know nothing is simple, straight forward or easy. First of all, do you really expect the Rebs to just allow you to march in and take him? And second, in case you forgot, we’re soldiers under oath. If we take off, we’ll be deserters with a price on our heads.”

I shrugged off his grip. “What’s with all of this we stuff? If you aren’t interested in helping me rescue Robert, then feel free to stay here. But I’m not going to let this chance slip away without doing something!”

Toby sighed. “Bobbi, take a second to breathe, okay? You’re not thinking straight. Deep breath. Do it!”

I rolled my eyes, but complied, despite itching to shove Toby out of my way and take off for the prison.

“Again,” he ordered. “Another deep breath.”

I acquiesced, but vowed it would be the last. I opened my mouth to argue, but he cut me off.

“Okay, better? Now, before you try getting rid of me again, let me remind you, you are my friend and we’re in this together. Okay?”

The oxygen from my ordered breaths began reining in my rash ideas.
Why does he always have to be right?

I nodded. “Okay. And thank you. Again.”

He grinned, brushing the hair out of his eyes. “Now, since we’re agreed, we’re going to do this right, and not end up as fugitives, or dead, where we’d be absolutely no use to Robert.”

“Agreed. First step?”

“First, we need to get as much information out of this guy as possible. Anything he can tell us will help us prepare.”

We glanced over at the prisoner, greedily sucking beans out of the can.

“And then what?”

“And then we go see Captain Truckey.”

Toby managed to retrieve his can opener while the prisoner focused on the last drops of beans.

“Hey,” he objected, swiping the back of his hand across his mouth. “I wasn’t done with that.”

“And we aren’t done with you either,” I retorted.

“Don’t worry,” Toby nudged me aside with a warning glare. “You’ll get it back. But first, we need more information.”

The prisoner eyed the remaining cans with a sigh, before giving his attention back to us. “What do you want to know?”

“Who are you and what circumstances landed you in our camp?” Toby asked, settling down on the hard packed dirt floor in front of him.

Too antsy to sit still, I paced back and forth behind him.

“Name’s Corporal James Dunn. I’m a guard at Belle Isle, or at least I was up until two weeks ago. Got word that my ma was sick, but they wouldn’t grant me leave. So I took matters into my own hands. Ever hear of a little trick involving a soap pill?”

Toby nodded, but I shook my head.

“I can’t believe you got away with that,” Toby remarked before turning his head to explain to me. “A soap pill is a small chunk of hard soap. Swallowing it makes an effective tool for finding some sick leave. Though I thought by now, most officers knew that old trick.”

Corporal Dunn shrugged. “Works for me every time, though the side effects aren’t very pleasant. So anyway, I caught the next train across the James River into Manchester, and then set out for home. I stumbled upon a couple of your Yankee guards a mile or so back, and here I am. End of story.”

“You left out a major chapter in your story, corporal,” I grunted in impatience. “How do you know my brother?”

“Oh, that,” Dunn shrugged again. “I often pulled night guard duty at the southeast entrance. Boring as all get out, but at least I got to keep a fire burning to warm my fingers and toes. A few weeks ago, when the nights started getting chilly, one of the prisoners dropped by to borrow the flames, your Robert fellow. We weren’t supposed to chit chat with the prisoners, but I didn’t see no harm in it; besides, it kept me awake. Turns out, your Robert kept handing over his tent space to others who had none. See, there’s not near enough tents for all of the prisoners, short by at least half.”

I couldn’t stop the small glow in my heart at Dunn’s mention of Robert’s selflessness. That was so like Robert.

“Sometimes we’d chat and sometimes we’d play a hand or two of poker. Your brother has quite the poker face; more often than not, I’d lose half my dinner to him. Though he always kept some to share with others. They never did feed any of those prisoners enough; never saw a skinnier, grimier, more pathetic-looking bunch of men in my life. So anyway, that’s my story. Now can I get the use of that can opener?”

Toby tossed the tool to Dunn, taking it back as soon as he finished. Then he motioned for me to join him. We stepped outside, leaving the prisoner in the darkness.

“What do you think?” Toby asked, once we’d emptied the slop bucket.

“Certainly sounds like Robert,” I said, starting back towards our tent.

Toby grabbed my arm to stop me. “Where are you going?”

I sighed, shrugging off his grip. “I’m going to pack up a few essentials and then head up to Belle Isle—”

“Not so fast, Bobbi.”

“Don’t try to talk me out of this, Toby. You heard Dunn. Robert’s suffering, cold, hungry. I have to get to him.”

“And we will, but we’re going to need some help. We can’t go charging out of here without permission; I’m no deserter, and neither are you. They hang deserters, and worse…Besides, if you haven’t noticed, there’s a war going on out there. It’s a dangerous time to be out strolling the roadways and sneaking about the countryside. Danger from all sides, Yanks, Rebs, deserters, and gangs. Let’s go talk to Captain Truckey first. He may be able to help.”

I thought about what he said, and then sighed. “Okay, but if he can’t help, I’m going on my own—”