Dark Chaos

by Ginny Dye

  “She’s a woman,” Pemberton snapped.

  “Yes, sir,” the soldier agreed. “I reckon that will make her even more valuable. The Rebels aren’t going to want anything to happen to her. Especially not with her daddy being a bigwig.”

  Carrie had heard enough. She moved past the soldier and headed for the kitchen. There was nothing she could do. She might as well eat. The idea of waiting for the right time to escape through the tunnel had entered her mind, but she had cast it aside. She would never leave Hobbs.

  Opal was stirring a pot of soup over the stove when she entered the kitchen. “You okay, Miss Carrie,” she asked anxiously.

  “I’m fine,” she said wearily. “Just hungry.”

  Opal sprang into action. “I’ll fix you something.”

  “Take something to the captain first,” Carrie replied, sitting down and letting her head drop on the table.

  Sam walked into the room just as Opal was leaving. He sat down next to her and watched the soldiers standing next to the door. Knowing he would interpret the question on her face, Carrie stared at him. The children? Sam nodded comfortingly. They be fine, his eyes said.

  Carrie dropped her head back down. She was confident the Union soldiers would not harm Sam and Opal. When they were gone, the children could come out of hiding. She didn’t really think the soldiers would harm the children, but there was no sense in taking a chance.

  Carrie didn’t know when Opal put a bowl of soup in front of her. She was sound asleep.

  Two days later Clifton was still unconscious. Captain Pemberton refused to leave his room and demanded his meals be brought to him there. Carrie had a bed moved in for him. She checked Clifton every thirty minutes even though she knew there was nothing more she could do for him. Only time would tell whether his body was strong enough to pull him through. Hobbs was conscious but suffering from a headache and still under constant guard.

  Carrie sat on the porch swing and gazed out over the fields. At least she hadn’t told her father when to expect her back. Within the week, she had told him in her letter. Then she frowned, realizing she could be well on her way north before anyone sounded the alarm. She had struggled for the last two days to keep her mind away from the idea of going to prison. For smuggling contraband, one of the soldiers had told her. In spite of her best efforts, images of Matthew during his stay at Libby Prison sprang into her mind. She could see him - terribly thin, with that look of deep sadness in his eyes. She shuddered at the idea of being locked up. Thank goodness, Matthew had been released.

  “Miss Carrie!” Opal ran out onto the porch.

  “What is it?” Carrie asked, alarmed. The soldiers sitting nearby sprang forward.

  “It’s the captain’s brother. He’s woken up!”

  Carrie smiled and ran into the house. She slowed as she approached the patient’s room and walked in slowly. Captain Pemberton stood by the bed and grasped his brother’s hand.

  Clifton raised his eyes slowly and stared around, puzzled. His gaze fell on Carrie. “Where am I?” he whispered.

  “You’ll have plenty of time for questions later,” Carrie said soothingly. “How about something to drink?” She reached for the pitcher of fresh water she had been keeping by his bed.

  “Thirsty...,” Clifton agreed weakly.

  Carrie held the water up to his lips while the captain supported his brother’s shoulder. Carrie glanced up at the captain. She saw the first look of hope in his eyes. He looked up, met her eyes, and then smiled slowly. Carrie smiled back; then she motioned for him to lay Clifton back. “We’ll take it slow and easy,” she said.

  Clifton nodded slightly then closed his eyes.

  Carrie set the water pitcher down. “He’s asleep,” she said gratefully. “That’s all he needs now.”

  “He’s been asleep for over two days!” Pemberton exclaimed.

  “This is a healing sleep,” Carrie explained, pulling the bandages back again to make sure there was no infection. She sighed with relief when she saw no angry red spots spreading out from the wounds. “He’s going to be fine. It will just take some time.”

  “You’re sure?” Pemberton asked anxiously. “You’re not just saying it?” He held up his hand before Carrie could answer. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

  Carrie looked up quickly. It was almost friendliness she heard in his voice.

  Pemberton sank down onto the chair next to his brother’s bed. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “I know you saved my brother’s life. You didn’t have to.”

  “You’re welcome,” Carrie replied. She looked down at Clifton’s peaceful face. “It will be several weeks before it’s safe for him to travel again.”

  Pemberton frowned. “I figured that. I’m expected back at Fort Monroe with my men in four days.” He glanced at his brother. “Would it be safe for him to travel in the wagon?”

  “I wouldn’t recommend it,” Carrie said firmly. “He’s had quite a shock. Infection could still set in if we’re not careful. I would hate to lose him after all he’s been through.”

  “He’ll stay here,” Pemberton said quickly. Then he grew quiet, obviously in deep thought.

  “He’ll be fine here, Captain,” Carrie said. “Opal and Sam can look after him.”

  “What about you? You’re the one who’s saved his life,” Pemberton protested.

  “I assumed I was my way to a Union prison,” Carrie replied evenly.

  Pemberton stared at her and nodded. “Yes,” he murmured. He stood and turned toward the window while staring out of it for several minutes. Then he swung back around. “Got any ideas for an escape?” The corners of his mouth twitched.

  Carrie smiled slightly. “I might.”

  “I figured as much,” Pemberton said with a sudden boyish grin. “I suggest you plan them for tonight,” he said softly, glancing behind him to make sure none of his men heard him. “I’ll call my men into a meeting around eight o’clock.”

  Carrie’s mind raced as she realized Pemberton was offering her freedom. “And Hobbs?” she asked.

  “You’ll come back and care for my brother when we’re gone?”

  “I promise,” Carrie replied.

  “Hobbs, too,” Pemberton promised. “You’ll have to move fast.”

  “We’ll disappear so fast even you’ll be surprised,” Carrie breathed a prayer of thanks for the tunnel.

  Pemberton was as good as his word. At eight o’clock he called all his men together for a meeting in the parlor.

  “What about the prisoners?” one of his men protested.

  “I don’t think they’re going anywhere,” Pemberton said casually.

  “I’ll stay and keep an eye on them just the same,” the soldier said grimly. “Tommy can tell me about the meeting.”

  Pemberton pulled himself up erectly. “I’m calling a meeting, private. That’s an order,” he said coldly.

  The soldier grumbled under his breath but followed Pemberton from the room. Carrie waited until the door to the parlor had swung shut and then sprang into action. She ran into Hobbs’ room, put her finger to her lips, and motioned for him to follow her. He leapt up, an unspoken question gleaming in his eyes, and followed her. Carrie could hear Pemberton’s muted voice as she and Hobbs made their way down the hallway. She ducked into the kitchen just long enough to stuff a bag with some food then ran down toward the basement. Sam and Opal would just have to wonder until she could return to explain. Hobbs was right on her heels.

  Carrie stopped for a moment to assure herself the rumble of voices was still coming from the parlor, then eased the door to the basement open, and ran down the steps lightly.

  Hobbs caught up and grabbed her arm. “What are you doing?” he whispered urgently. “This is the first place they’ll look.”

  “Not where we’re going,” Carrie said lightly. Quickly she lit the lantern and approached the now empty shelves. It took her only a second to remove the brick and yank at the rope.

  “A tunnel!” Hobbs wh
ispered in awe.

  “After you,” Carrie said, laughing at the look on his face. “Welcome to the Cromwell family secret.” She waited for him to duck into the tunnel then pulled the door shut. “This lantern will come in handy,” she said.

  Feeling sorry for Hobbs who stared at her in confusion, Carrie quickly explained what had happened.

  Hobbs slumped against the wall in relief. “I ain’t going to prison?”

  “Not right now, anyway,” Carrie replied.

  “Is this where Opal’s kids are?” Hobbs stared around in astonishment. “This is quite a place.”

  “One of my ancestors built it,” Carrie explained. “I’ll tell you the whole story later. And yes, the kids came through here. I hope they’re out by now. They went around and down to the slave quarters to warn Susie and Zeke. I’m sure all of them are safe.” She turned away and tugged at Hobbs’ sleeve. “Come on,” she said impishly. “I don’t want to miss any of the fun.”

  “What?”

  Carrie pressed a finger to her lips. “Quiet. I’m not sure how much can be heard from in here.” She turned and began to walk rapidly toward the center of the house and followed the slight incline. It was only a few minutes before they could hear muted voices.

  Then Pemberton’s voice rang above the rest. “This meeting is over.”

  Carrie grinned. “It should only be a minute more,” she whispered.

  It was less than that when a shout was heard. “They’re gone! The prisoners are gone.”

  Pemberton’s voice was calm. “They can’t have gone far. You men go outside and round them up. The rest of you stay here and search. Just in case they were foolish enough to try to hide in the house.”

  Carrie listened closely - glad she had indeed had an escape plan. In order for Pemberton to save face with his men, he would have to do everything possible to find her. She gestured to Hobbs. “Let’s get out of here.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Robert finally staggered to his feet. He didn’t know how long he had lain there, but the tide had receded, leaving at least twenty feet between him and the still angry sea. He stared out at the water sadly. It was impossible to imagine Suzanne Paxton, so full of life and energy, dead at the bottom of the ocean. He knew her body would wash up eventually. Taking a deep breath, he turned and began to trudge toward the right. The least he could do was try to locate her body to assure a proper burial.

  He kept glancing out to sea as he walked. There was still no sign of movement from the stranded Phantom. A sudden movement from the left caught his attention. He stopped and stared in that direction, his eyes straining to identify what was out there. His questions were answered when the loud report from a cannon rolled toward shore. The Yankee gunboat was back! The sound of the first shot had not died away when the big guns from Fort Fisher began a steady booming. The Union boat managed to stay just out of range of the fire but continued her own steady shelling. Most of the shots fell far short of the Phantom.

  As Robert watched the sky began to clear, the mist lifted from the water. Suddenly his view of the battle was no longer obscured. He frowned as he watched the Yankee shells land closer and closer. The Union boat edged nearer, seemingly daring Fort Fisher to hit it. So far it was winning the bet. Robert frowned. Bueller had better get his men off that boat. The Federals meant business.

  There was a brief lull, then the shelling resumed on both sides. As Robert watched, suddenly the Phantom seemed to leap forward in the water but shuddered to a halt lower than she had been previously. The blockade-runner had been hit! Moments later, smoke poured forth from the ship, more and more plumes rising up into the air. Robert was certain Bueller had ordered the boat fired. His attempt to break the blockade had failed this time, but Robert knew he would not walk away and relinquish his cargo to the north. Soon, Robert could see flames licking from the boat.

  He continued to watch. Bueller would have to get his men off soon. The entire boat could blow at any minute. As if beckoned by his thoughts, a swarm of men appeared and began to crowd toward the remaining rowboats. Moments later, three boats bobbed free of the burning wreck. The ocean, calmer now, granted them passage.

  Robert was waiting on shore when the first rowboat scraped onto the sand. He helped haul it clear of the water then turned to the next one.

  Bueller stepped out onto the sand and grasped his hand. “I’m sorry,” he said, his deep voice full of pain.

  “You saw?”

  Bueller nodded. “She never even tried to swim. The ocean swallowed her in a second.”

  Robert flinched. “She was carrying gold in her leather purse.”

  “She never stood a chance,” Bueller said sadly. “I wish to God she had listened.”

  “Me, too,” Robert said woodenly. Then he waved his hand toward the burning boat. “I’m sorry about the Phantom.”

  Bueller glanced out to sea then shrugged. “It’s a boat. It can be replaced.” Then his face became pensive. “She gave me a lot of great adventures,” he said softly.

  Robert stood with him, gazing out to sea in silent tribute of the two - a beautiful lady and a graceful boat - claimed by forces more powerful than they. The passions of the war had claimed still more victims.

  Robert finally turned away. “We have to find her body.”

  “I’ll send my men out,” Bueller said gruffly. “There will be troops swarming all over this area soon.”

  “Why?”

  “They’ll wait for the boat to quit burning and then salvage what they can. There will still be things worth retrieving. The fire is more a ploy to keep the Federals from having the boat. She won’t be worth fixing.” His voice turned fierce. “She might never make another run for the Confederacy, but I’ll be blamed if she will be used against us.” He sighed heavily and turned, walking away toward the dunes. “Dinner is on me tonight,” he called back cheerfully.

  Robert stared after him. How could Captain Bueller be so morose one moment but so cheerful the next? The realization came to him suddenly. The man had suffered great loss, but he still had the things most precious to him. He would find another boat, and he would continue to have his adventures at sea.

  Robert turned for one more look out at the ocean. “Good-bye, Suzanne,” he called softly. “You lived what you believed. You died for what you believed in. May you rest in peace.”

  It was two weeks before Carrie asked Sam to deliver Clifton Pemberton to Fort Monroe. He had healed rapidly and was strong enough for the journey. Carrie waved good-bye to the man who had become her friend then turned to Hobbs. “Let’s go home.” Now that her duty with Clifton was over, she was anxious to return to Richmond.

  “Your father will be real glad to see you, Miss Carrie.”

  “If he’s still speaking to me,” Carrie said dryly. “At least Sam was able to send word in that I was all right.”

  Hobbs clucked to the horses, urging them into a trot. “I reckon we’ll make it this time.”

  “We better,” Carrie replied. “Clifton assured me that all cavalrymen have been pulled away from Richmond for a while. He received word from the captain that we shouldn’t have any trouble. I hope he was right.” Carrie glanced back with satisfaction at the crates of herbs stacked securely in the wagon. She knew Pemberton had been hard pressed to keep his men from destroying them. They had been eager to seek vengeance for her and Hobbs’ escape. Her respect for him as an officer had grown when she realized how skillfully he must have handled his men. She and Hobbs had waited in the tunnel for two days before Pemberton had disappeared with his troops. Then she had kept her promise to care for Clifton until he was well enough to travel.

  Carrie turned her face toward the setting sun and breathed a sigh of relief. She was going home. In spite of all the longing, she felt for the plantation at times, her heart was in Richmond with her father, with her patients, with Robert. Richmond is where he would come when he finally returned from England. She would be waiting for him.

  Thomas was wait
ing on the porch when Hobbs brought the wagon to a stop. “You go on,” Hobbs urged. “I’ll make sure the wagon is safe in the barn. We’ll take the herbs to the hospital tomorrow.”

  Carrie leaned over to kiss his cheek then jumped from the wagon.

  Her father stepped from the porch and caught her up in a fierce hug. “Carrie...,” he whispered, “Carrie...”

  Carrie reveled in the feel of his warm arms for a long moment before she stepped back. “You’re not mad?”

  “I’ve felt every emotion in the book,” Thomas said gruffly. “Mostly regret.” He took her arm and led her up the stairs. “Let’s go inside. We have much to talk about.”

  Carrie looked at him closely then her heart leapt with gladness. She had not seen that look on his face in a long time. Something had erased the bitterness and anger and replaced it with love and understanding.

  Thomas led her to a chair then settled down in the one across from her. Several minutes passed while he just stared at her, his eyes devouring her face. “I’m sorry,” he said finally.

  Carrie started to speak, but her father held up his hand.

  “Please let me say what I need to.”

  Carrie nodded, sat back in the chair, and enjoyed the warmth flickering from the small fire. The whole house had a different feel.

  “I was a fool,” Thomas said simply. “I have accepted that. I hope you can forgive me.”

  Carrie waited silently, knowing he wasn’t done.

  “I have allowed my feelings about the war - about my country - to totally consume me. For so long I fought to keep them under control, to balance them against the rest of my life. I should have known it couldn’t be done. When you once let bitterness take up residence in your heart, it quickly poisons your whole being.” He paused. “It even poisoned my relationship with you.”

  “I love you,” Carrie protested.

  “I know,” Thomas said. “I have thanked God for that every day. I don’t know what I would do without that knowledge. I think, in the end, it’s what saved me.” He took a deep breath. “When I got your note saying you had left - not telling me before...,” his voice trailed away.