by Diana Ballew
Eliza clicked her tongue and swatted the horse’s behind with the buggy whip. “Come on, git goin’, girl,” she ordered.
Some of the soldiers glanced at them as they rode by. Others marched with their heads held low, while a few simply looked too dazed and confused to notice anything.
Eden felt the blood suddenly drain from her face. There, near the back of the line, dressed in a Yankee uniform, was none other than Major Rayce Hampton.
Chapter 18
Eliza craned her neck and stared at the long line of prisoners they had just passed. “Lawd almighty, Miss Eden, you see what I see? That sure looked like Major Hampton.”
He’s alive! Eden gripped the side of the buggy so tight her hands went numb. “Pull over, Eliza. I...I need to think a minute.” She sat back, steadying herself, and rubbed her hands together to draw the blood back into them.
“But that can’t be him, Miss Eden. He ain’t no Yankee.”
“Don’t be silly—of course he’s not.” She twisted in her seat, looking back at the line of men as they faded from view. “That was Major Hampton, right—you saw him, too?”
“Oh, yes. It surely was him, and he was dressed in blue, sure enough. I couldn’t take my eyes off his worn out, handsome face.”
Shielding her eyes from the sun, Eden placed her hand below the brim of her bonnet. “I heard they take the Yankees to Libby Prison for processing. Looks like that’s where they’re headed.”
“What we gonna do, Miss Eden...Miss Eden?”
Rayce is alive! Still, she had seen him look better than he did moments earlier—much better, in fact. But, if he’s sick with swamp fever, she could help. He was strong and healthy, and with the proper care and treatment, he could recover soon. She would see to it herself. At last, the sleepless nights, staring vacantly at the walls and ceiling, picturing him lying dead along the banks of the Chickahominy would finally vanish.
“Let’s head home, Eliza. I’m going to freshen up and pack some of the berry pie you made earlier. We’re going to Libby Prison. I’m going to spring Rayce Hampton from the Yankee jail—now hurry home.”
Eliza’s jaw dropped. “You gonna what?”
“You heard me, I’m going to get that man out of there if it’s the last thing I do!”
“Make tracks, girl.” Eliza snapped the buggy whip. “Lawd Almighty, I ain’t never heard of such a thing,” she mumbled, shaking her head.
Eden ran up the steps, two at time, and bolted into Aunt Martha’s bedroom completely out of breath. “He’s here...and he’s alive!”
“Who...You mean—Rayce?” Aunt Martha sat up like a shot, squirming as though someone had just poured ice down the back of her nightdress. “Are you talking about Rayce—you saw him?”
“Yes.” Eden gave Aunty a big, squishy hug. “We saw him, didn’t we, Eliza?”
“Oh, we saw him, sure enough, but he looked like he was feeling kinda...blue.”
Eden eyed Eliza sharply. “What Eliza simply means is, yes, we saw him, he’s alive, but there’s a small wrinkle, you might say, that needs to be ironed out. But don’t you get yourself in a fit. I’m handling the situation.”
Aunt Martha frowned. “What’s going on, Eden? What ‘wrinkle’ needs to be ‘ironed out’?”
Eden waved her fingers, trying not to over worry the older woman. “Well, we were coming back from Chimborazo after seeing Jimmy. He’d been shot in the foot and lower leg.”
“My stars, is he going to make it?”
Eden nodded. “He’s doing well, should be fine with proper mending. I’ll check on him each day to be sure, don’t you worry. Anyway, as I was saying, we were coming back from the hospital when we saw a long line of Yankee prisoners. People were yelling all sorts of things at them—not nice things—hateful things, of course.”
Aunt Martha nodded. “Of course.”
“We were riding past the line, and there, near the end and trudging away in the hot sun, marched Rayce.”
“Dressed as a Yankee? Oh, my heavens! He’s been taken where—Libby Prison?”
“I think so,” Eden replied. “And he wasn’t looking well.”
“But that’s a dreadful place. I hear it’s filled with rats, and the men are crowded wall-to-wall with no beds or even blankets. Mind you, I didn’t think too much about it before because our enemies are in there. But now, it’s my nephew. Well, we know he’s no Yank.” Aunt Martha paused and shook her head. “All his life, he’s lived on the edge. I swear I used to wonder if he had a death wish. And perhaps he did after his father died in his arms way back when, and he took off for so many years.” She looked straight into Eden’s eyes. “Lord help you keeping up with him. Danger should have been that man’s middle name.”
Eden sprang up from the bed. “Well, wish me luck. I’m sure they’ll let him out within the hour when he explains who he is, or I’ll just have to do it for him.” She dashed out the door toward her own room, yelling behind her, “Either way, we’re going to see him soon, and I’m beside myself with joy!”
“Miss Eden, it sure ain’t fittin’ for us two womenfolk to be down here near the docks. My own mama, bless her soul, would have taken the switch to my backside for coming down here.”
“Hush, Eliza, we don’t have a choice. I only had you come in case I need help getting him into the buggy.”
Eden looked at the daunting four-story, brick building facing Cary Street. The imposing structure, with its whitewashed peeling outer walls, had once been the warehouse of Libby & Sons, Ship-Chandlers. As they drew closer, they saw a crowd of sloppily dressed guards pacing on the sidewalk, their hair and whiskers long and unwashed. When they saw the women in the approaching buggy, a group of about a dozen men came toward them carrying their muskets.
Eliza reined in the horse and pulled the buggy to a stop.
A tall, older guard moved to the front of the group. “What can we do for you, Miss?”
Eden stepped out of the buggy. “I’m here about a prisoner. I believe he was brought to this place within the last hour or so.”
“Hmm...well, we did get some fresh meat in here just a bit ago, didn’t we boys?” The men behind him chuckled. “There ain’t nothing we can do to help you, Miss. No visitors allowed.”
“Then I need to see the person in charge.”
The older man paused, removed his hat, and wiped his forehead with a dirty handkerchief. “Well, then you need to be talking to Lieutenant Turner.”
Eden cupped her hands together in an attempt to stop their shaking. “Then take me to him, please.”
“As you wish. Follow me.” He paused and pointed a bony finger at Eliza. “She coming?”
Eden glared directly into his eyes. “Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t she?”
“Oh, uh...I was just asking, Miss.”
The women followed him into the building. He led them down a flight of stairs, and Eden noted the walls below looked just as dingy as they had outside.
They came to a closed door. The guard knocked. “Lieutenant Turner, sir?”
The sound of shuffling papers filled the silence. “Yes, what is it, I’m busy,” said a deep voice from behind the door.
“Sir, there’s a lady here, a Miss...Miss...” He looked at Eden for guidance.
“A Miss Eden Blair,” she replied louder than she had expected, drawing a grimace from the guard.
More shuffling of paper.
Behind the closed door came the grating sound of furniture scraping across the floor, causing Eden to wince. Finally, a voice called. “Come in.”
The guard opened the door and held his hand out, gesturing for her to go inside. She entered the room while Eliza and the guard waited in the hallway.
Before her stood a stout man with a prickly scowl. She instantly felt the air in the room chill from the icy stare in his dark eyes. He gestured toward a small chair. She smoothed her skirts and sat. His gaze followed her every move. Finally, he turned and walked in front of a large desk and took a seat in an armch
air opposite her.
“What may I do for you today, Miss Blair?”
“Lieutenant,” her voice cracked. She cleared her throat. “Lieutenant, I have reason to believe you have imprisoned an innocent man.”
He cocked his head and laughed. “Have you any idea how many times I’ve heard that?”
“Sir, this...this is not a laughing matter.” She felt the heat of her flushing cheeks. “What I mean to say is a certain prisoner, whom I believe you may have just placed within the confines of your prison today, is actually a Rebel officer.”
He slowly rose from his chair, walked to the front of the desk, and stood in front of her. He sighed as though thoroughly bored and glared down at her. “And just how did you make this determination?”
“Why, I saw him myself. He was marching toward this prison in a Yankee uniform.”
The lieutenant bent forward and looked her squarely in the eyes. She could feel the callous insincerity running through his veins.
“And how do you know this Rebel officer, who you just happen to have seen dressed in a Federal uniform, didn’t turn Yank himself?”
“Because...well, because he wouldn’t do that, sir. That’s how I know.”
He laughed in a villainous manner, and she felt the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand.
“Not good enough. You should leave now.” He walked behind his desk and sank back in his chair, busying himself with the stack of papers.
Eden’s knees trembled, but she rose from her chair, anyway. “Major, I...I demand to see the officers just brought in. I can point him out to you.”
“You are in no position to demand anything!”
She flinched and swiftly sank back in the chair. “Sir, can you at least look in your ledger for your most recently admitted prisoners?” She loosened the bow of her bonnet tied across her throat.
He stared at her for a moment, his eyes unblinking, boring into hers. “Please, I’m a busy man.”
She narrowed her gaze and glared into his eyes, searching the dark depths for even the smallest amount of compassion. “Sir, please. Please check your records.”
Finally, he sighed and opened a large ledger sitting on the desk in front of him. “Just whom am I looking for?”
That’s a good question.
“Umm ...check Hampton. Rayce Hampton.”
His brow furrowed deeper as his thick finger moved down the page. “No. Not here. Now, please, there’s nothing more I can—”
“May I look for myself?”
“You absolutely may not! Now, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“Please, wait.” She cringed at the pleading tone in her voice. Her mind scrambled as she tried to remember what Patrick had told her. What was it? Last he saw him he had been on the banks of the Chickahominy in...a captain’s uniform.
“I believe he may have been dressed as a captain—yes, a Yankee captain. Can you look for a prisoner newly admitted with the rank of captain?”
He fingered the ledger again. “There are two.”
“May I see them?”
“The only way to see a prisoner is to apply for a permit with the Provost Marshal.”
“But that could take days—perhaps weeks!”
“Those are the rules, and I abide by those rules, Miss Blair. I’m sorry, but there’s nothing more I can do for you. Good day.” He rose to escort her to the door.
Eden started for the door, her skirts brushing past him. “I’ll show myself out, sir.” She tilted her chin high. “Come, Eliza, we’re leaving.”
The heavy door behind her promptly closed with an echoing thud.
“Why, that man not help us any? He sounds like a mean man to me, like the devil got him good.”
“I don’t know, but he couldn’t be better suited for running an enemy prison. I almost feel sorry for the Yankees in there. I certainly feel bad for Rayce. Don’t worry, Eliza, I’ll figure out something—just you wait and see.”
Eden heard a soft whisper in the back of her mind. “If you love him you must help him.”
As they exited the building, a young guard approached. “Miss Eden, is that you?”
She stared at the familiar curly-haired man standing in front of her.
“It’s me, Miss Eden, Tommy Brewster—from back home.”
Eden remembered him now, one of ol’ man Brewster’s unfortunate sons. Tommy had a wild crush on her for years when they were young children. In Sunday school, he used to stare at her during their lessons, and she would slug him in the arm and tell him to stop. Unlike his father, Tommy had always been a shy but pleasant young man.
“Why, of course, Tommy Brewster. How’s life been treating you?”
“Oh, all right, I reckon,” he gushed. “I’m posted here for now, but I hope to see battle one of these days.”
Eden frowned. “Be careful what you wish for, Tommy. I’m at the hospital regularly, and some of the men there once thought like you. Many of them feel differently now.”
“I was sorry to hear Oak Hill burned.”
“And I was sorry to hear about your father,” she lied.
“Some say he had it coming. But, he was my pa, so, it’s hard.” His solemn face suddenly brightened. “Say, what brings you here—a Yank prison of all places?”
Perhaps an opportunity presents itself.
“Oh, Tommy, I’m just beside myself with...with...” She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed the corner of her eye.
He took a step forward. “Oh, Miss Eden, don’t cry. Can I help?”
Eliza’s brown eyes narrowed. “Miss Eden, we best get back to Aunt Martha’s, I know she—”
“Go on back to the buggy and wait for me,” Eden said, between pursed lips.
Eliza scratched her head and hesitated. Finally, she turned and walked back to the buggy, mumbling.
Tommy drew closer. “Tell me, what can I do to help?”
Eden sighed and fluttered her lashes as quick as butterfly wings. “Well, that mean ol’ Lieutenant Turner told me I couldn’t see a dear friend of mine who’s been imprisoned as a Yankee in there.” She sniffed and jutted her chin toward the prison. “He’s not one bit a Yank—he’s a very dear old friend and a Rebel major.”
Tommy scuffed his feet and thrust his hands into his pockets. “Well, heck, Miss Eden, they got rules in here—stiff rules, and they don’t let no visitors in. I wish I could get you in, but I can’t.” He looked up with a hopeful gaze, saying, “You know I would if I could.”
Eden could hear Eliza’s trumped-up coughing coming from behind her. “Oh, my, Tommy...whatever shall I do?” She turned away and felt his eyes upon her back. “I just feel so tired of this war and tired of the rules and...well, I’m just liable to do something foolish.” She dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief.
Tommy touched her arm, and she turned around to face him. “Don’t go talking like that, now, Miss Eden. You’re not going to do anything crazy, are you?”
Eden smiled. “Why, Tommy, I just had an idea; maybe you can help me. Could you fetch me some clothes so I can pass as a guard? Why, I can go in and find him myself and make sure he’s doing all right. Last I heard he was terribly ill.”
“Now you are talking crazy. Lord above, Eden—no, I won’t get you any guard clothes!”
“Oh, Tommy!” She turned away and blubbered into the handkerchief.
“Now, hold on, hold on, wait a minute here...stop your sniffling. You’re not going in there, especially dressed as a man—that is crazy talk. But perhaps...”
“Yes?” she asked in a choked whisper, turning to face him again.
“Well, perhaps I can check on him. I could make up some dumb excuse, like a problem with the window, or something I saw from down here. You wait in the buggy, and I’ll return shortly.”
Walking back to the buggy, Eden thrust the dry handkerchief into her pocket and smiled.
Tommy returned twenty minutes later. “I asked around to find out who the new Yank fellows are.
There’s one guy in there who’s a chatter monkey. I asked him where the newly arrived captains were. A captain raised his hand; he was right there in the same room. He told me a second captain named Captain Nimrod Collins of the 61st Pennsylvania was sent right to the prison hospital section ’cuz of swamp fever.”
“Oh, that must be him,” she said. Nimrod. Only Rayce would be stuck with such a name.
She fluttered her lashes, and Tommy’s face softened.
“Tommy, you’ve done me proud. I thank you from the bottom of my lil’ ol’ heart, and I want to repay you for your kindness.”
He beamed with a bright smile.
“Come here. I’d like to give you a little something.”
“Oh...all right, if you insist.” He inched closer to the side of the buggy.
“I do insist—here.” She reached down on the floor and brought up a wrapped package. “It’s a berry pie Eliza made just this morning. I want you to have it.”
“Oh!” He flushed as red as rhubarb wine and held out his hands. “Umm...thank you.”
Eden waved as Eliza urged the horse forward. “Goodbye now, Tommy, and thank you again.”
“My, oh my,” Eliza chuckled. “I never seen such a love-struck boy in all my days. He thought you was gonna kiss him.”
Eden would have laughed, too, but her mind kept turning back to Rayce. How would she get him out of there? So many deaths had been attributed to malarial fevers coming from the toxic black swamps of the Chickahominy and other stagnant waters on the Peninsula. With the extra rains and flooding, it had already proven to be a particularly deadly year. The chance Rayce would get the proper care needed to stay alive while he remained in prison was probably zero.
“How the major get himself in this mess, anyhow? Lawd Almighty!”
“Swamp fever, Eliza.”
As the buggy rattled down the road, they saw a group of cavalry soldiers riding through. Eden mumbled, “I doubt Jeb and his boys would be here, given all the fighting—”
The thought came to her so suddenly it was as though a bolt of lightning struck her upside the head. “Oh, Eliza, let’s get home quickly. I have an urgent message to send!”