The Last, Long Night (#5 in the Bregdan Chronicles Historical Fiction Romance Series) (40 page)

Matthew pondered the words for a minute.  “That’s pretty clear.  The people of Savannah have to have a fairly clear picture of what could happen to their town if they don’t surrender.”

“I’m sure the people of Savannah do,” Peter agreed quickly, “but Hardee may not feel the same way.  If he tries to hold it, I fear it will be another Atlanta.”

“Do you think he will try?”

“My understanding is that he wrote a letter back saying Sherman was overstating his position and that he has no intention of surrendering the city.”

Matthew winced.  “There may be no cities left in the South if this continues.”

A sudden holler from the water caught their attention.  They watched as a smaller boat pulled to the side, the men in the boat waving their arms wildly. 

Peter sprang forward.  “Those are journalists from New York City.  They snuck into town this morning to see what they could discover.  I’ve been watching for them all day, wondering if they would make it back.”

He and Matthew, along with a couple more men, helped the journalists onto the Pawnee and then waited for them to speak. 

“They’re gone,” one man said excitedly.

“Who?” Peter asked.

“Hardee.  And his entire army.”

“How?” Matthew sputtered, turning to stare at the shore.  “How did he move ten thousand men?”

The man who had spoken looked at Matthew for a moment.  “You the journalist from Philadelphia who escaped Libby Prison?”

Matthew nodded.

“Then you’ll appreciate what Hardee did,” he said with a grin, stepping forward to shake his hand.  “I’m Frank McCanna.  I’ve been an admirer of yours for a long time.”

Matthew flushed, but shook his hand firmly.  “Tell me how Hardee pulled it off.”

“In spite of his earlier reply to Sherman, Hardee realized the only course he really had was to retreat if he didn’t want to lose his entire army.”  Frank looked around at the listening men.  “Anyone know what a rice field flat is?”

Matthew nodded.  “It’s a shallow skiff about eighty feet long.  They use them to harvest the rice. But what…?”

“Hardee linked them as floats for a bridge from the foot of West Broad Street in the city to Hutchinson’s Island, to Pennyworth Island, and then on to the South Carolina shore.”

All the men listening whistled in amazement.

“Railroad car wheels were used to anchor the flats in the river, and planks from waterfront buildings served as the bridging material,” Frank continued.  “They even covered the whole thing with rice straw to muffle the noise.”

Matthew shook his head in amazement.  “Ten thousand men?”

“And forty-nine field guns,” Frank confirmed.  “They’re gone.”

All the men sat silently as they absorbed the news.  “Have to admire that kind of ingenuity,” Peter observed.  “It’s another army we have to finish off before the war will end, but I can’t feel anything but admiration for Hardee.” 

“What now?” Matthew asked the obvious question.

“Richard Arnold, the mayor of Savannah, rode out this morning and surrendered the city.”  Frank grinned.  “How do you think we got so much information?  Federal troops reached the City Exchange early this morning and raised our flag.”

Matthew and Peter cheered with the rest of the men.  Matthew wasn’t sure whether he was more excited about the victory the North had won or about the fact he might find a bed on solid ground that night.

Carrie was used to the sound of her father’s heavy footsteps.  Nothing but bad news was coming from every direction as Christmas approached.  Her heart ached for him as he stepped in the door, his face creased with heavy lines. 

“Not much good news, I’m afraid,” Robert said when Thomas walked through the door.

Instantly the frown lines disappeared in a warm smile.  “Robert!” Thomas exclaimed, striding forward to grasp his hand and then pull him into a hug.  “When did you get home?”

“This morning.  You had already left for the Capitol.”

Thomas looked over at Carrie.  “Obviously the two of you have had a wonderful day.  I haven’t seen my daughter this happy for quite some time.  She has her glow back,” he said approvingly. 

Carrie threw another couple logs on the fire and answered her father’s question before he asked it.  “Miles is helping May in the kitchen.  She insisted on a special dinner tonight since Robert is home again.  She’s pulling some vegetables out of the cellar.  I don’t know what she’s doing in there, but it smells heavenly.  I told Miles I would keep the fire going.”

Thomas nodded and sat down in his chair, the frown settling on his face again.

Robert settled down in the chair beside him.  “It’s no good to pretend our situation isn’t dire, Thomas.  Is there more news?”

Thomas stared into the flames for a long moment.  “Savannah has fallen.”

Robert frowned.  “So quickly?  Sherman got there less than two weeks ago.  I wasn’t aware there was a battle.”

“There wasn’t,” Thomas said shortly.  “Hardee took all his men and escaped.”

“All of them?” Carrie asked.  “How?”

“Word came through today,” Thomas said and then explained Hardee’s escape.  “It was a brilliant escape, but we have lost another city.”

“Hardee didn’t stand a chance against Sherman’s army.  They had four times as many men,” Robert observed.  “If he had stayed and fought, Savannah would have been destroyed the same way Atlanta was.”

Thomas flushed with anger.  “Ah, yes, Atlanta…”

Carrie gazed at him with sympathy.  She knew how much he had loved the Georgian city.  It had almost broken his heart when he heard it had been burned.

“Is the news from Georgia as bad as I’ve heard?” Robert asked.  “We got some news up in the Valley, but I’m sure we didn’t get the whole story.”

“If you received enough news to know the Union army destroyed Georgia, you got the gist of it,” Thomas said sadly, bitterness edging into his voice. 

Robert nodded heavily while Carrie’s thoughts flew to Louisa and Perry again.

“Sherman set out to destroy not only a state, but also the morale and determination of a nation,” Thomas said.

“And did he succeed?” Robert asked quietly.

Thomas looked up sharply.  “You sound as if you hope he did, Robert.”

Robert gazed at him evenly for long moments, the crackle of the fire the only sound in the room.  “You know as well as I do that we cannot win this war, Thomas.  Any hope of their letting us go died with Lincoln’s re-election.  Now the North will continue to wear us down and burn us out.  For how long?”  He stared into the flames.  “How much more destruction?  How much more death?”

Carrie knew the sorrow he carried from what he had witnessed in the Valley.  She had lain beside him while he napped, holding him close when his body jerked with nightmares, and his breathing turned to gasps.  She longed to soothe all the pain from his tortured eyes, but she knew only time and love could do that.  She had prayed all day that even that would work.  But first the war had to end…

Thomas locked eyes with him.  “I don’t know how to do anything but fight,” he finally murmured.  “What will happen when the war is over?”  His shoulders slouched under the weight of his thoughts. 

He suddenly looked up at Robert.  “Will you continue to fight?”

Robert nodded stoically.  “I will fight. Everything will soon center on Richmond.  Sherman has taken Savannah, but I’m sure he will move north at some point to join Grant’s army.  I don’t know that I really have a choice, but I will fight to protect the ones I love.  Carrie. You.”

Carrie blinked back the tears as she watched the tortured expression play over Robert’s face in the firelight.  A cold wind whistled down the chimney as the lanterns around the room flickered into the shadows.  Her heart was breaking as she stared at the two men she loved most; both dealing with so much pain and loss.

She was so happy Robert was home, but she knew it was only temporary, and then she would go back to the worry and agony of separation.

Suddenly an image of the rainbow sprang to mine. 
Choose joy for just this moment, Carrie
, she reminded herself. 
For just this moment
.  She took a deep breath and forced a smile to her face.

“What will come, will come,” she said firmly, “but for tonight we have each other.  We have a warm home and an amazing meal that May will soon serve.  We can’t change what is happening, but we can change how we live tonight.”

Both Robert and Thomas gazed at her, obviously trying to break free from their feelings – if only for her sake. 

Thomas was the first to speak.  “She won’t let me wallow in my self-pity,” he said, managing a weak smile.  “She keeps telling me I have so much to be grateful for.”

Robert walked over and wrapped his arm around Carrie.  “And, as usual, she is right.  Savannah is gone.  Grant is here, and Sherman is coming.  But not tonight,” he said firmly.  “Tonight we have each other.”

Then the door opened, with the wind catching it and banging it against the wall, the chandelier swaying and tinkling.  Janie and Clifford walked in laughing, Jeremy on their heels. 

Jeremy was the first to notice Robert.  “So you’re the famous husband,” he said, smiling as he came forward to give him a strong handshake.

“And you’re the uncle who will help me keep my willful wife in line,” Robert quipped, laughing with everyone else as Carrie merely raised her eyebrows in disdain. 

Janie was next as she sprang forward and wrapped Robert in a warm hug.  “I’m so glad you’re home,” she cried and then pulled Clifford forward.  “Meet my husband.”

Soon laughter and talking filled the room.   Everyone moved into the dining room when Miles and May, wide smiles on their faces, carried out platters of food. The light of love and friendship forced horror, loss, and pain into the shadows of the background. 

At least for the night…

Chapter Twenty-Two

“Miss Rose!  Miss Rose!”  Carla came running down the road, her eyes bright from the cold, but her body snuggly warm from the coat Aunt Abby had sent down in one of her barrels the week before. 

Rose stopped, waited for Carla to catch her, and thought how Aunt Abby had become a heroine to everyone in the camps for the constant stream of supplies that came in what everyone called her
magic barrels
.  Other groups sent barrels, but when Aunt Abby’s arrived, everyone crowded around eagerly, knowing they would be full of the things they needed most, as well as the things they wanted.

Rose was quite sure she had the best equipped school of all the contraband camps.  She didn’t know how Aunt Abby kept the supply of paper, pencils and books coming, but all her students had everything they needed.

Finally, Carla came running up to her and slid to a stop, her breath coming in huge gasps, her eyes wide with excitement. 

“Is there a fire somewhere?” Rose teased. She could tell by Carla’s shining eyes that there was no reason for her to feel alarm.

“No, Miss Rose, there ain’t no fire.”

“No, Miss Rose, there isn’t a fire,” Rose corrected gently. 

“That’s what I said,” Carla insisted, smiling slyly.

Rose merely looked at her until Carla squirmed.

“Sorry,” the little girl finally mumbled then added, “No, Miss Rose, there isn’t a fire.”

Rose laughed.  “That’s not so hard, is it?” she asked.  “It didn’t hurt much to say it correctly, did it?”

Carla caught her breath and stared up at her.  “Why is it so important to you, Miss Rose, that we always say things right?  It gets awful tiresome at times.”

Rose leaned down to give the little girl a warm hug.  “I know it does, honey, but when this war is over and you leave the contraband camp, you’re going to be living in a brand new world.”  She smiled as she thought about it.  “It will be a world where you can be anything you want to be.  A teacher.  Or a doctor. Or anything else.”  Then her voice grew serious.  “But it will be hard, Carla.”

“If it will be hard anyway, what does it matter so much?”

“Because it will be
easier
if you speak correctly, and if you can read and write.”  Rose lifted Carla’s chin until her eyes met the child’s.  “I love you, Carla.  I want you to have everything you dream of.  It’s my job as a teacher to prepare you to be able to do that.”

“You’re sure good at it,” Carla said softly.  “I hope one day I’m gonna …
going
to be  like you.  That’s what I want, you know.  I’m going to be a teacher just  like you.”

“And you’ll be a great one,” Rose said, tears misting her eyes.  “When it’s time, I would love for you to teach with me.”

Carla gasped.  “Really, Miss Rose?  Me?”

“Absolutely,” Rose said firmly.  “I can hardly wait until that day comes. I’ve watched you help the younger students.  You’re a natural teacher.”  She took a deep breath as she thought of all the things she could hardly wait to have happen.  Then she forced them from her mind.  She was learning to live one day at a time.  Wishing for things she couldn’t have that day only sapped her energy.  “Now, why did you come to find me?”