The Last, Long Night (#5 in the Bregdan Chronicles Historical Fiction Romance Series) (14 page)

Carrie smiled, recognizing the feeling immediately.  “What happened to him?”

“Two bullets in the arm,” Janie said.  “The doctor had to take his arm.”

“Oh, Janie!” Carrie cried, reaching out to grab her other hand.  “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Janie said decisively.  “He’ll never have to fight again.  He is recovering well and is already planning to go back to his law practice when he is ready.”  She paused and stared out the window.  “He has asked me to marry him.”

“How wonderful!” Carrie whispered but then hesitated as a conflicted look crossed Janie’s face.  “Isn’t it?” she asked hesitantly.

Janie looked at her helplessly.  “I want it to be wonderful, but I’m not sure it’s the life I want.”  She searched for words.  “Clifford was a very prominent attorney.  I know what life is like for wives of prominent men.  They are expected to maintain their place in Southern society.  That kind of life is about entertaining and making their husbands look good.”

“And that’s not what you want.”

“Everything is different now,” Janie agreed.  “The war has changed me.  Being on my own has changed me.  Knowing I can do something that really means something has changed me.”

“And you don’t think Clifford knows that?” Carrie asked gently.  “Didn’t he fall in love with a strong woman who is doing meaningful work in the midst of horrible circumstances?”

Janie stared at her for long moments and then nodded slowly, a smile starting to spread across her face.  “I guess he did,” she whispered.

“You talk to your Clifford,” Carrie urged her.  “You might just find your way to each other.”

Janie grabbed her in an impulsive hug and then pulled Carrie over to the bed they were now sharing since Georgia was in Carrie’s bed. 

Within moments they were sound asleep. 

Tomorrow would come…

Chapter Eight

Rose walked out onto her tiny porch, stared west toward Richmond as she did every morning, took a deep breath, shifted John more solidly on her hip, and headed to school.  Her heart would be with Moses all day, with Rose wondering if he was dead or alive, but her mind would be in the little white schoolhouse packed with her students.

Rose gave thanks every day for being able to do what she loved best: teaching her students and caring for little John.  “Of course,” she chuckled softly, “you’re not very little.  I sure am praying you walk soon because you’re almost too heavy for me to carry, little man.”  She thought longingly of the baby carriage Aunt Abby had sent from Washington but banished it from her mind quickly.  She would never have accepted a gift that would distinguish her so much from other former slaves in the contraband camp. 

“Miss Rose!  Miss Rose!”

Rose stopped and waited for nine-year-old Carla to catch up with her, smiling as the little girl’s braid bobbed up and down as she ran down the hot, dusty road.  “Good morning, Carla.  You’re in an awful big hurry this morning.”

“Yes, ma’am.  I told that man I would run as fast as I could,” she gasped, her eyes wide with excitement.

“What man?” Rose asked with a smile.  She was used to being called to help in all kinds of situations.

“He’s a real big man with red hair.  He said his name was…”  Carla’s face puckered as she tried to remember.

“Matthew?”  Rose gasped. 

“Yes!  Matthew be his name!”

“Matthew
is
his name,” Rose corrected automatically, her eyes scanning the road.

“That’s what I said, Miss Rose,” Carla said patiently.

Rose didn’t take the time to clear up the misused verb.  She didn’t have long before school started.  “Where is Matthew, Carla?”

“He’s down at the fort, Miss Rose.  He said he knows you have class but that he need to speak with you for a minute.”  She paused, her face growing serious; her eyes said she had seen more than a nine-year-old girl should have seen.  “He told me it was about Moses.”

Rose made her decision.  “Come on, Carla.”  She ran the rest of the way to the schoolhouse, deposited John on the floor with instructions for Carla to watch him and to tell everyone she would be a little late.  Then Rose lifted her dress and ran as fast as she could to Fort Monroe.

Matthew was on the outskirts of the fort watching for her.  Rose ran up to him and grasped his hand.  “Moses?”  Her heart was beating with fear.  “Is he…?”  She couldn’t bring herself to say the word that invaded her dreams every night.

“He’s fine,” Matthew assured her quickly.  “I’m sorry you were so frightened.  I shouldn’t have sent Carla for you that way, but I don’t have much time.”

Rose nodded, her heartbeat slowly going back to normal.  She stepped forward to hug Matthew.  “How are you?”  He had regained his lost weight since she had seen him just over a month ago after his prison escape, but there seemed to be fresh lines engraved on his face, and his eyes were heavy.

“I’m good,” he assured her, his smile helping to wipe away some of the strain.  “So is Moses.  At least he was when I last saw him,” he said teasingly.

Rose gasped.  “You met Moses?  How?”

Still amazed he had found Moses in an army that huge, Matthew told her the story.  “He is quite a leader,” he finished.  “His men love and respect him.”

“It comes natural to him,” she agreed, but then she frowned.  “There have been a lot of battles since you saw him on the Rapidan.  I heard last night that Grant lost eighteen thousand men in The Wilderness and now he is fighting at Spotsylvania,” she sighed.  “Anything could have happened.”

“That’s true,” Matthew said, “but when he gave me this note yesterday morning he was alive and well - at least as well as anyone can be in those circumstances.”

Rose reached for the envelope eagerly but looked deeply into his face.  Matthew returned her gaze.  “It’s been bad, Rose.  He’s lost more than half of his men.”

Rose groaned, thinking of the men she had met the couple times they had been through Fort Monroe.  “Pompey?”

Matthew shook his head.  “He died the first day of The Wilderness battle.”

Rose made no attempt to wipe away the tears flowing down her face.  Pompey had been both a friend and a father figure to Moses.  “He was a good man,” she whispered.

“All of them are!” Matthew said fiercely, anger blazing in his eyes.

Rose stared at him.  Matthew was usually so calm.  Now she could feel the rage rolling off him in molten layers.

“Most of these battles are more like slaughter than fighting,” Matthew said heavily.  “Trying to break the lines behind these entrenchments is just about impossible.  Lee can build them faster than our men can attack them.  Men are dying on both sides, but we’re losing a lot more of our soldiers.”

Rose listened; her heart burdened with sadness, but knew there was nothing she could do to change the war.  All she could do was pray every minute of every day that somehow God would allow Moses to come home to her and John.   “Where are you headed?” she asked, not wanting to think about senseless slaughter any more.

Matthew understood instantly and reached for her hand.  “I’m sorry,” he said contritely.  “I shouldn’t have said any of that.”

Rose shook her head.  “I’m not naïve.  I know it’s awful.”  She forced a smile.  “Have you seen Aunt Abby?”

“She’s doing fine.  She should be in Washington by now.”  He told her what he had told Moses of Aunt Abby’s move to the capital.  “You know her.  It won’t be long before she’s making as much of a stir there as she did in Philadelphia.”

Rose smiled, fighting back tears as she thought of the woman who had become like a mother to her.  The ache of missing her real mother, and now Aunt Abby never seemed to go away.  She supposed the uncertainty of the war made her especially vulnerable – wishing she had someone strong to lean on when she was carrying so many others. 

She forced her thoughts to something more pleasant.  “You should see John.  He’ll be walking any day now.  He’s crawling all over the place and pulling up every chance he gets.  I expect him to walk across the house to me tonight,” she chuckled. “He loved watching the parade of boats going up the river a few days ago.”   Then Rose sobered as she thought of Carrie in Richmond.

“General Butler’s forces.”

“Yes.  I understand they are going up to take Richmond.”

Matthew nodded, but his eyes were skeptical.  “I wouldn’t be concerned about Carrie from that threat,” he said wryly.  “Butler is a fine lawyer, but he is most definitely not a soldier.”

“He’s done many good things for those of us here in the contraband camp,” Rose said.  “He’s helped me when no one else would.”

“I didn’t say he was a bad man,” Matthew said, “just that he’s a bad soldier.”  He shook his head.  “He’s really nothing more than a political appointee of President Lincoln.  I know Grant wishes he could have just about anyone else to lead those thirty thousand men up the James River.”

Rose looked up the river, remembering the line of two hundred boats ten miles long, each one sending a spiraling column of smoke into the clear May sunshine.  “The men seemed to believe in him,” she mused.  “They were quite confident.”

“I hope they have reason to stay that way,” Matthew said.  “Only time will tell.  So far he’s done nothing but fail miserably, with very little action taken at all.”  He frowned as he looked up the river.  “He got as far as Bermuda Hundred and dug solid entrenchments to protect his troops.”

Rose looked at him in confusion.  “From what?  I don’t know a lot about this, but I understood most of Grant’s army is fighting in Spotsylvania, and Butler had orders to attack Richmond because they don’t have much defense on the river.”

“You obviously understand it far better than our General Butler does,” Matthew retorted.  “I’ve learned it’s best not to try to figure out what goes on in his mind.  I do, however, have to report on it, so that’s where I’m headed now.  I suppose I’m grateful, for I’m quite certain this army won’t see a lot of fighting.”

Rose lifted her head as a bell started clanging.  “I have to get back.  School is starting.”

“Of course,” Matthew said instantly.  “I just wanted to see you for a few minutes.”

Rose hugged him again, grasping the envelope from Moses and knowing she would wait until that night to read it.  “Thank you so much for bringing this.  I look forward to the time Moses can get to know you better.  I like the idea of my two favorite men being friends!” 

She stepped back but couldn’t resist the impulse to hug him again.  She had no idea when she would see him again.  It was a reality of war she had learned to deal with but would never accept.  “Please be careful,” she whispered, tears once more swelling into her eyes.

Matthew grinned and hugged her back.  “I imagine I’ll see you soon.  I’ll have to come back through here before they send me somewhere else.  Take good care of that boy!”

Rose nodded and watched as he disappeared into the fort before she turned to fly back down the road toward school.

              Aunt Abby had been in Washington, the nation’s capital, less than a week, but she was quite sure she would never get used to its utter chaos.  Philadelphia was a busy city, but it had grown into itself gradually and was maturing gracefully.  When she had been in the capital, briefly, before the war, it had been a rather modest, semi-rural city of a few thousand people.

To say war had changed it would be putting it mildly.

The Civil War had transformed Washington into an urban center of national importance.  A few thousand had exploded to seventy-five thousand, with government, infrastructure, and both public and private buildings to support all of it – or at least on the way to supporting it.  So much work remained to be done. 

Abby’s friends had been concerned about her moving so close to the fighting.  She had laughed it off.  Now that she was here, she was more certain than ever she was safe.  McClellan may have no longer been a general in the army because of his lack of results on the battlefield, but the evidence of his thoroughness in protecting Washington was everywhere. 

An extensive line of entrenchments and fortifications completely encircled the city.  Sixty-eight forts had been built, along with twenty miles of rifle pits.  Fifteen hundred artillery guns, including mortars, were ready to use at any moment.   She was living in one of the most heavily defended cities in the world.  Abby was confident it was almost unassailable by any force of men.

She frowned as her thoughts turned to the South.  She knew the constant siege of Richmond was exacting a heavy toll on the Confederate’s capital.  Was Carrie still there?  Was she safe?  Alive?