Echoes of Dark and Light (47 page)

The brusque commander finally spoke. “Okay, men, this house is clean. On to the next.”

The heavy footsteps disappeared outside, followed by a firm closing of the door and the reassuring click of the bolt. Mr. Davis crossed the room, stopping not at the cabinet, but at the fireplace, where from the sounds of it, he set about banking the fire for the night. Then I heard him pull out a chair and settle his weight onto the creaking wood rungs. Minutes passed, the rustle of a newspaper, the clunk of a coffee mug on the table, the reverberating rumble of a man’s gas exchange against a hard seat, the wafting odor of rotten cabbage…

Nearly an hour passed by my rough estimate in the darkness with no sun, stars or timepiece to go by before Mr. Davis pushed back his chair and crossed to the front of the room, maybe to look out the window. By that time, I had about crawled out of my skin and paced a foot-deep trench in his cellar. I knew we had to sit tight or risk everything; however, I couldn’t get Toby out of my mind, Toby helpless against an angry, vengeful, maybe slightly insane, brother.

The cabinet scraped across the floor, casing a weak beam of light down the steps. Blinking against the sudden brightness, I met Mr. Davis as he descended holding a lantern high. I handed him our extinguished one to relight, and then turned to check on my cell mates. Robert lay curled on his side, deep asleep. Cora sat near his head, picking him over in the dark, a bowl almost filled with dead lice and fleas. With the return of the lantern’s flickering light, she set the bowl aside and continued her patient’s exam.

“For now, they are gone, but you’d all best stay down here for added safety. Besides, doesn’t look like that fellow will be up and around for awhile anyway.”

We all turned to look at my sleeping brother, so thin, so pale, so weak.

“How is he, Cora,” I asked, hating the wobble in my voice.

She sighed. “I won’t lie to you, Bobbi. He’s in rough shape. However,” she paused.

My sinking heart grabbed onto her dangling rope.

“Except for extreme malnutrition, exhaustion, exposure, irritations from the vermin infestation, and the remnants of a lingering cough, I can’t find anything physically wrong. And with some proper care, I don’t see why he shouldn’t make a full recovery.”

Waves of relief washed over me like diving into the chilling waters of Lake Superior on a scorching August afternoon.
Robert will be okay!

But I couldn’t let myself splash in the lake too long. Toby needed me. When Mr. Davis returned upstairs for more food and a fresh pitcher of water, I turned to Cora and demanded help.

“Get me out of these torturous contraptions!”

As Cora helped me undress, I quickly filled her in on the events leading up to our arriving at her door. She listened attentively, never once interrupting and reacting with horror in all of the right moments. Revisiting the facts reminded me of the impossible task ahead. But stripping out of the itchy lace and imprisoning undergarments brightened my outlook considerably, and sucking in a deep breath for the first time in hours helped even more. Still, I knew the odds stacked high against me and I had to act fast. Mr. Davis returned with supplies in time to catch the tail end.

“…so I hate to leave you so soon, but I need to go.” I pulled on my cap and then finished dressing by tucking my Colt into my waistband and slipping my knife down into my boot.

Cora looked up, surprised. “You can’t mean to go tonight? The city is swarming with Rebels out searching for you! It’s suicide!”

“Naw, the Rebels are out looking for a gal in a pink dress. Besides, I can’t afford to loose anymore time. It has to be now.”

“Your friend is correct, Cora.” Mr. Davis sat the pitcher of warm water down on the table, steam rising gently in the cool cellar air.

“But Uncle, it’s far too dangerous!”

“My dear Cora, life is dangerous, even just crawling out of bed in the morning. The other day, I got up and rammed my toe into the dresser. Smarted something fierce.”

“I hardly think it’s fair to compare a toe stubbing with throwing oneself into the throes of the enemy!”

“And I don’t find it fair that you should underestimate your friend and her abilities. Of course the task ahead is going to be tough, but tomorrow when the train schedule starts up, the Rebs can and will ship that boy anywhere, making it near impossible to find him. But as for tonight, it’s a safe bet that the boy is right where you left him.”

“In the middle of a highly guarded Rebel prison camp smack dab in a swiftly moving and frigidly cold river,” I said, grinning. “How I love a challenge!”

Cora looked at me, disbelief dangling her jaw open, until the humor won over and she burst out laughing. She quickly muffled the noise with her hands, glancing over to see if she’d disturbed her patient, yet Robert slept soundly.

“Okay,” Cora agreed reluctantly. “I understand why you have to go, and I understand why it has to be tonight. Just, please be careful, Bobbi.”

“Careful is my middle name,” I joked as I climbed the steps. I paused midway, and then squatted down to look at Cora. “Take care of my brother, okay?”

“I promise. And you take care of yourself.”

“I always do.”

I pulled on my jacket as I joined Mr. Davis at the window. “Still clear?”

“So far,” he said, dropping the heavy curtain and turning to me. “What’s your plan?”

I shrugged. “Sort of winging it at the moment. Got any suggestions?”

“As far as I can see, you only have one option as they’ll be watching the bridge and you can’t very well swim the James and hope to be any good to anyone on the other side. You’ll need to boat across.”

“Good idea. Do you happen to know of an available boat I could borrow?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. Follow me.”

We slipped out the front door and, keeping to the shadows, headed toward the northwest corner of the city. As the clock hands roamed somewhere after midnight, a big chunk of the city had bedded down for the night. Darkened buildings with shuttered windows lined the near pitch black streets. Thick cloud-covered skies blocked any moon or star light from illuminating our path, assisting in our discreet quest; darkness would be our friend. Here and there, a blazing beacon of light and sound blared out into the streets, body-filled taverns beckoning to the lonely, thirsty and insomniacs. We avoided those corners, especially after spotting a handful of Rebels slipping inside one particularly lively establishment.

Ten minutes later, we rounded a corner and almost ran smack into a scouting group of Confederate soldiers. Luckily, it happened to be a different group than had interrogated Mr. Davis an hour earlier, but unluckily, we had to submit to another round of questions about an escaped war prisoner and a prostitute wearing a pink dress.

My, how rumors take flight and then collide midair, winding up a mishmash of rubbish. So now I am a prostitute? I wonder who I’d be by morning.

Mr. Davis calmly and patiently answered their questions, while my fidgety insides squirmed and near exploded out of control. The soldiers finally dismissed us and we quickly moved back into the safety of the shadows, my heart hammering like a hungry woodpecker.

Mr. Davis led me past the main part of town to where the buildings stood few and far between, where a tree or two had escaped the ever-hungry ax of the growing town. Mr. Davis ducked under the thick branches of a pine, rustled around in the darkness and quickly emerged dragging a dilapidated rowboat behind him. He grinned at my surprise.

“In our line of business,” he told me, “it’s ever so important to be prepared for anything. Just last week, I rowed a nice young couple across the river heading up to Canada. Course, when both armies stared commandeering private property for the cause, be it north or south, I had to stash
Little Betty
here in hiding or risk loosing her.”

I eyeballed
Little Betty
, her aged wood, creaking joints and overall shipwreck-like appearance, and wondered if the armies were better off without her. However, I didn’t have a lot of choice in the matter, and desperately hoped
Little Betty
proved sturdier than she looked.

“We’re in luck that the prison is down river. All you have to do is steer and the current will do all of the hard work.” He paused, casting a suspicious eye in my direction. “You ever worked a rowboat before?”

I nodded. “Oh, yeah.”

“Good, ‘cause
Little Betty
needs an experienced hand and a gentle touch. Now climb in and I’ll give you a shove.”

The frigid water of the James River seeped in through a crack in my boot, and I gave an appreciative pat to the boat’s side as I stepped inside and settled on the seat. Taking the oars in a steady grip, I plunged them into the current as Mr. Davis pushed me away from shore.

The swift waters immediately grabbed hold of the boat, trying to twist and twirl her as if she weighed no more than a dried, discarded maple leaf. But being no stranger to strong, willful bodies of water, I refused to obey her orders, and set about guiding
Little Betty
towards Belle Isle. It didn’t take long until the island’s edges appeared down river.

Most of the island lay buried in darkness. The lanterns lighting the railroad bridge blinked and stomped impatiently as soldiers crossed back and forth in front of them, their reflections dancing on the river’s surface below. The only other light shone from the far side of the island, from the officer’s buildings, where I assumed Toby stood undergoing who knows what kinds of torture at the hands of his angry brother.

Even though experienced with battling strong currents, sweat dripped from my brow and rolled down my neck as I rejected the river’s wishes to continue downstream.
Little Betty
proved herself sea worthy and announced our arrival with a scraping of shore sand on her underside. I quickly hopped out and dragged her bow upon the deserted beach, safely out of the current’s greedy grip.

I quickly and quietly stepped through the inky darkness towards the southwest corner of the prison, planning to avoid the two heavily guarded gates. Instead of returning to its normally calm, dependable rhythm after battling the James, my heart continued pounding as if determined to fit in as many beats as possible in case they be the last. I slowly, carefully crept closer to the impoundment, ears pricked for any and every sound, eyes scouting the darkness for identifiable shapes.

An unexpected scraping in the dirt sent me leaping around and reaching for my Colt, coming face to whiskered face with a wide-eyed raccoon. Trying to shove my heart back where it belonged while ordering my legs to quit shaking, I stumbled on towards the prison.

The only light on the island shone out like a beacon from the officer’s buildings. The rest of the encampment stood in silent darkness. Expecting the place to be swarming with Rebs, I felt unexpected relief to only spot a handful. Figuring they sent any surplus soldiers across the bridge to assist in the search for Robert and me, I sent a quick prayer up to God and hoped he wasn’t overly busy elsewhere at the moment.

Getting into the prison didn’t prove much of a challenge. I just waited until the nearest guard stepped aside to relive himself and I scrambled up the knoll and cross the ditch. I guessed the Rebs didn’t feel the need to escape-proof the encampment, what with the place surrounded by water and all. I quickly ducked behind a tent and waited, trying to slow my breathing so as not to awaken any prisoners. I peeked around the corner, found the coast clear and quickly zeroed in on the offices, like a moth to a dancing flame.

Silence. No voices, no movements, no usual nocturnal noises of serenading crickets or croaking frogs. I eased up, ever so slowly, and peered into the window.
Jonathon!
I jerked back down, trying to convince my body’s instincts to stay put and think, to not rush into anything. After an uneventful few seconds, I risked another look. Jonathon sat at his desk, elbows down and folded hands propping up his chin. He stared forward intently, unblinking, unwavering. I followed his eyes and just barely caught myself from crying out. Toby dangled against the far wall, his arms spread wide and tied to the ceiling’s beams with thick, splintery ropes. His head drooped forward, asleep, unconscious or dead I couldn’t tell. Blood streaked across his shirt, a lot of blood. My breath caught in my throat.

I forced myself to concentrate on the challenge at hand; I’d worry about the blood, and its sources, later. First, we had to escape, preferably with our lives intact. No way did I even want my shell of a body to spend eternity in this hellhole, let alone my soul. I made a thorough search from my crouched position, found the coast clear, pulled my Colt free and charged into the office.

“What the—”

“Hands flat on the desk where I can see them, Lieutenant! And not a peep, or it’ll be the last peep you ever utter!”

After the initial surprise, Jonathon’s face rearranged to a look of boredom. “You won’t get away with this crazy stunt,” he answered. “And there’s no way for you to win. The captain will be back any moment and I’m certainly not going to cooperate with you. One gunshot will bring an entire army of soldiers down on your soon to be dead body. You are a foolish girl.”

The hairs on the back of my neck bristled at his words. “You underestimate me, Jonathon.”

“Bobbi? Is that you?”

“Toby!” Relief gushed through me so forcefully, I only just managed to keep my wits about me and my feet beneath me. Keeping my eye and my gun pointed at Jonathon, I edged around the room to get closer to Toby. “You okay?”

“Nothing serious,” he muttered. “A broken nose and a few bruised ribs. Just a bit of brotherly banter. But what the heck are you doing here?”

“I told you,” Jonathon broke in, “she’s foolish and head strong. A bad combination, especially in a female.”

“And I told you to keep it shut!” I charged back over to stand behind him, pointing the gun at his head.

“What’s stopping you?” he taunted. “Go ahead, kill off another of Toby’s kin.”

“You are annoying me something fierce,” I spat at him. “I already told you before, Randy was an accident!” With that, I raised the gun up high and brought the heel down on the back of his skull as hard as I could. Jonathon slumped to the desk with a thud. A quick glance out the door made sure no one had heard, and I pulled out my knife and sliced through the ropes around Toby’s wrists. Suddenly freed, Toby slid down the wall and sank to the floor. But he would have to wait. I grabbed the rope remnants and hurried back over to the unconscious Jonathon slumped over the desk. I dragged his arms behind him, and quickly secured his hands and feet to the chair with a surefire knot Robert himself had taught me. Then I fumbled in his pockets and pulled out a somewhat clean handkerchief which I stuffed in his mouth. I then took a dear, pricey second to make sure he could still breathe; I truly didn’t want to be responsible for another Dove death, even an accidental one. Satisfied Jonathon sat tied securely and breathed easily. I hurried back over to Toby, who by then had managed to crawl to his feet.