by Ginny Dye
“There be a powerful lot of hate in them Union folks, too,” Amos growled bitterly. “I reckon there ain’t never going to be a time we ain’t gonna have to fight for things.”
Rose wanted to contradict him, but she was too sure he was right. Anger threatened to overwhelm her as she thought of all the hard work needlessly ruined. How many people would go hungry because those crops were destroyed? “I’ll talk to the superintendent,” she promised.
“Oh, I done went and talked to him. He’s a good man. He’ll do what he can. Trouble is you can’t control all them soldiers.” He looked around his own farm with a sigh. “I been lucky so far. I wonder how long it will last?”
Annie sidled up to Rose. “Do people really hate me just cause I’m black?”
Rose knelt quickly, her heart constricting. “Yes, honey, there are some people who will hate you just because you’re black. Some people are ignorant and just don’t know better. But there are a lot of good, kind white people out there, too,” she hastened to add. “White people who are fighting for us to be free. White people who are sending books down here so you can learn. White people who are raising money to help you eat. Why, it was a white person who made it possible for these very camps to exist. He was a general just like the man who destroyed the crops.”
“We got white teachers, too,” Annie said in a thoughtful voice.
Rose breathed a sigh of relief. More than anything she did not want the people in the camps to learn to distrust all Northern whites because of the activities of some. She nodded. “That’s right, honey. Being good or bad isn’t a color thing. It’s a heart thing. We all have to work on our hearts.”
Amos was still angry. “I’ll work on my heart. But I’ll also work on some Yankee soldiers if they come near my place. I spend all day working for that army. I don’t reckon I’m going to let them walk all over me. I ran away from slavery so’s I wouldn’t have no one walking on me.”
Rose didn’t answer. She understood his anger. Placing her hand on Annie’s shoulder, she said, “Now, how about we go inside and taste your mama’s good cooking?” She exchanged a long look with Harriet. Perhaps the meal would help them forget today’s bad news.
Annie smiled and took her teacher’s hand, leading her into the humble home.
Annie had been right. Her mama had been cooking all day. Dish after dish of hot vegetables graced the table, and mounds of fresh cornbread spun its delicious fragrance into the air. Rose was stuffed when she finally pushed back from the table. “Harriet, that was wonderful,” she groaned, patting her stomach.
Annie jumped up from the table. “You said we could sing tonight, Mama!”
“So I did, young’un. Go get your daddy’s fiddle. I reckon he can rustle us up some songs.”
Rose felt her worries and cares float away as song after song flowed into the darkening night and drifted up to dance with the stars. She had discovered long ago she could not carry burdens and sing. The very act of singing seemed to lift the burdens right out of her soul.
Finally Amos put down his fiddle. “I reckon I better be getting you back to your house, Miss Rose.” The angry, haunted look had faded from his eyes.
Rose hated to leave, but she knew he was right. She thanked Harriet, hugged the children, and walked with Amos down the road. Neither talked, content to let the magic of the night hold them. They were perhaps a half mile from the house when a distant shout caused them to turn and look back.
“Was that Harriet?” Amos said with a puzzled look on his face, leaning forward to try to penetrate the darkness with his eyes.
Craning to listen, Rose was suddenly aware what she was hearing - the thud of horse hooves and the faded shouts of men. Soldiers!
Amos realized it at just the same instant she did. “Soldiers!” he growled, his voice tight with fear and anger. “I got to get to my family,” he cried desperately.
“I’m coming with you!” Rose declared, trying to push aside the pictures crowding into her mind.
“No!” Amos said fiercely. “Go get help!” Then he turned and ran.
Rose gazed after him for just a moment and then ran in the other direction. She would go to the superintendent. Mr. Crosby would help. It seemed like forever before she was pounding on his door. The door opened almost instantly, the kindly man’s face staring out at her anxiously.
“Rose? What’s wrong?”
“Amos... Harriet and the kids...,” her words tumbled together. She took a deep breath. “Soldiers are there. Amos was gone - walking me home. He’s gone back... I’m afraid...,” she gulped, unable to say more.
“I’m on my way,” Mr. Crosby promised. “I’ll get some men to help.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“No, you go back to your house. It’s simply not safe for you to be out right now,” he said firmly then turned to call over his shoulder. A man Rose knew well appeared behind him. “Walk Miss Rose home. Don’t leave until you see her in the house. I’m on my way out to Amos’ place,” he said quickly then turned and disappeared.
Rose was sitting in the living room when the long awaited knock finally came. She sprang toward the door. Marianne, who had waited up with her, followed right behind. She pulled the door open expectantly. Her whole body tightened with fear when she saw the look on Mr. Crosby’s face. She held the door open wordlessly then followed him into the living room.
He stood at the mantle for a long minute, staring down at the empty fireplace. His tall body sagged with fatigue, and his face was lined with sorrow and anger. He seemed to be struggling with what to say.
“What happened?” Rose finally asked. It was better to know than to continue to hang in the torment of wondering.
“Amos didn’t make it in time,” Mr. Crosby finally managed. “Harriet and Annie...,” he choked on the words. “They were raped,” he finally said, his eyes filling with tears. “They’re still alive,” he added. “They will be okay.”
Rose groaned and hid her hands in her face. Images of Annie’s bright face and ready laugh filled her mind. She could still see Harriet proudly carrying bowls of vegetables to the table and singing loudly, her round face creased with smiles. “No,” she cried softly.
“How is Amos?” Marianne asked, her cracked voice revealing her own pain.
There was another long silence.
“The soldiers beat him up pretty badly,” Mr. Crosby finally admitted. “He tried to stop them. There were just too many. By the time we got there, the soldiers were riding off into the darkness, laughing.”
Fury blazed through Rose. “We have to catch them!” she cried. “They can’t get away with this!”
“We’re going to do everything we can,” the superintendent promised with a heavy voice.
“But there’s not anything we can do, is there?” Rose yelled angrily. “My God! Is this what freedom is going to be like? If this is the way the refugees are going to be treated, they might as well be in slavery!” Rose knew her emotions were getting the best of her, but right now she didn’t care. The anguish of Annie and her family were driving her mad.
Mr. Crosby walked over to put a hand on her shoulder. “I know you’re upset, Rose. We’ll do everything we can,” he repeated. “That’s all I can do.” He paused. “Annie and her family are going to need you. They trust you.”
Rose stared up at him for a long minute then dissolved into tears.
Marianne was at her side in an instant, gathering Rose up in her strong arms.
Moses and June crept out of her tiny cabin while it was still pitch dark. The storm had blown by, leaving the air cool and fresh, heavy with the sweet smells of summer. Honeysuckle assaulted their senses, mixing with the aroma of newly cut grass from nearby hay fields.
Moses knew the fresh mud would reveal their tracks to anyone looking, but a late night conference with Bart had convinced him Saunders’ overseer wouldn’t come looking. There was no one else to keep an eye on the rest of the slaves if he took off, and besides there were
so many slaves running away, the area overseers had become rather indifferent about it. They would do the best they could with what they had left. No one could expect more of overseers than that.
Moses moved steadily but at a much slower pace than normal. June was too pregnant to match his regular speed. After much thought, he had decided to do the only thing that seemed reasonable. They would go as far as they could in the boat. When he deemed it unsafe, they would return to land. He knew he was taking a chance. The closer he got to Hampton, the more boats and people he would find. On the other hand, the closer he got, the greater the chance the Union would accept them as contraband. Once they arrived, he would figure out a way to convince them he was a Union spy, needing to join McClellan.
Neither Moses nor his sister spoke as they eased through the tangled underbrush. Moses prayed quietly to himself. He was not at all sure he could find the boat he had left behind, but his whole plan hinged on his doing just that. He had been afraid to take the road; sure he would never recognize where he had broken out of the woods and met Bart. If he was going to find the boat, he would have to stick to the shoreline. Finally the sun began to make their moving easier. At the pace they were going, it would probably take another two hours to reach the boat.
“Are we almost there?” June asked quietly, fatigue radiating from her voice.
“We have a little farther to go,” Moses admitted. “We’re making good time,” he lied. “Why don’t we stop and have something to eat?”
“That would be nice,” June agreed. Seconds later she had sagged against a log, her hands resting on her swollen stomach. “I won’t always be this tired,” she said with a weak smile. “Not getting any sleep last night - along with all the excitement...”
“I know,” Moses replied soothingly. “We’re doing just fine. Once we find the boat, you can have a nice long rest. We won’t be moving again until dark.”
He allowed her to rest for almost an hour; then they pressed on. When he was sure they were close, he searched until he found a shaded, sheltered clearing in the woods. Moving quickly, he gathered huge armfuls of fresh grass and mounded them on the dirt and pine needles. “You can rest here until we’re ready to leave.”
“But where is the boat?” June asked, looking around bewildered.
Moses looked at her tenderly, seeing his mother in her face. He knew she was exhausted. “I’m going to find the boat now. I’m sure it’s not too much farther. I’m going to leave the food and water,” he said, hoisting a big bag off his shoulder. “I’ll be back soon.”
“You sure nothing will get me out here?” June asked anxiously.
“Nothing more than some mosquitoes,” Moses replied with a grin.
June smiled then laughed out loud. “I’m sorry. Of course, I’ll be fine. Good luck with the boat.”
Moses heaved a sigh of relief, waved, and plunged into the woods. Now that he was alone, he would make much better time. And he wouldn’t have to work so hard to hide the anxiety he felt at the fear of not finding the boat. That morning had convinced him June could never walk to Hampton in her condition. If he didn’t find the boat - if someone had taken it, he didn’t know what they would do.
The sun continued to climb, once again laying its sultry grip on the countryside. Moses was soon glistening with sweat and breathing hard. He searched the woods with his eyes. He had not pulled the boat up too far before he had hidden it. But where was it? Every stand of brush and undergrowth was beginning to look like the hiding place he had hastily constructed.
Suddenly his face cleared, and he bounded forward with a glad shout. “It’s here!” he cried then looked around fearfully, knowing he could be heard by someone passing by. Now was not the time to become careless. He waited long minutes to make sure no one had been close enough to hear him. He had made it this far by exercising great caution. Now that he had June to be responsible for he would have to be even more careful. Peering into the pile of brush, he satisfied himself the boat was really there, scoped out the area for landmarks then turned back to rejoin his sister. He would leave the boat hidden until dusk.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Carrie looked into the mirror and tucked a few loose strands of hair into her bun. Not that it would matter. She knew the intense humidity would tease them back into rebellion the moment she stepped outside. A quick critical gaze in the mirror told her she looked as well as she could, considering the pasty pallor of her skin from long hours working inside the hospital. Quite suddenly, she longed for the mirror in her bedroom at home on Cromwell. She had watched herself grow up in that mirror. She had told secrets to, as well as had secrets revealed to her, by that mirror. It had stood as a symbol of courage and fortitude all her life. Was it still intact? Had the Union soldiers discovered the ultimate secret it held?
“Are you coming, Carrie?”
Carrie shook her head, bringing herself back to the present. There was so little time for idle thought now. She missed it - yearned for it. “Grow up!” she hissed to the mirror. Then she raised her voice. “Coming, Janie!”
Carrie gazed around her as the carriage rolled through the streets. She had not been downtown for almost a month. Not since the night Robert had proposed to her. Her skin tingled now as she thought of it.
Janie seemed to be reading her mind. “Any word when Robert will be home?”
Carrie shook her head. She knew her friend was just giving her an opportunity to talk about him. “The fighting at Cedar Mountain seems to be over. Father told me Lee was moving his army north to join with Jackson. He thinks there is to be another big battle at Manassas.” She shuddered as she thought about it. Robert had been wrong. He had not returned quickly from what he hoped would be a short mission. He had been gone a month with a return nowhere in sight.
“Well, you’ll be ready for him when he comes,” Janie said firmly.
Carrie tried to draw hope from her friend’s words. Surely now that she and Robert were on the verge of marriage, he would come home to her. Surely God would not take him from her now. It was so hard to have hope, though. So hard to see soldier after soldier die from wounds inflicted during what they were now calling the Seven Days Battle. Could Robert possibly continue to live in the midst of such carnage? Most of the time she was able to silence the fears with busy activity. But the times when her fears haunted her were still too frequent, causing the shadow in her eyes her father had commented on the night before.
“Your daddy was right,” Janie observed. “You need to spend some time away from the hospital. I think going shopping is just the remedy for you.”
“I thought you said goods were scarce,” Carrie protested.
“Let’s just say you won’t have the choice you had before the war,” Janie admitted with a grin. “And be glad your daddy still has some money left.”
Janie’s statement caused another frown to crease Carrie’s face. She knew her father was sinking most of his fortune into support of the Confederacy. She had seen the ledger book he left on his desk one night. He had mortgaged Cromwell Plantation before the war started, confident it would be a short, successful struggle. What was reality doing to his hopes now? Carrie shook her head firmly. It would do no good to wonder. She was supposed to be having a good time. “Where are we going?” she asked, forcing a cheerful note into her voice. Janie’s quick glance said her friend knew what she was doing, but she played along anyway.
“I thought we would see what Thalheimer’s has.”
“I won’t buy anything fancy,” Carrie warned. “Not when so many people are in need.”
Janie shrugged. “Quite frankly, I think you could show up in rags and Robert would be thrilled.”
Those words caused a genuine smile to warm Carrie’s face. “And I love him,” she said softly. She still could not believe she was to be married soon- just as soon as Robert returned. Basking in the glow of his love, she allowed herself to believe it would really happen.
The carriage was just pulling up in front of Tha
lheimer’s when Carrie heard her name being called. She turned quickly, a wide grin springing to her face. “Pastor Anthony!” she cried, jumping from the carriage and moving quickly to join him. “It’s wonderful to see you.”
“And you, too, Miss Cromwell. I suspected you were in the city.”
Carrie nodded, examining the man standing in front of her. He was still the same well-dressed, middle-aged man she remembered, but she could not miss the deep lines of fatigue and concern etched into his kindly features. “I am so sorry I have not been to see you,” she said. “I arrived in the city about the middle of May and have been working in the hospital ever since.”
“Say no more,” Pastor Anthony interrupted. “I understand only too well. There are very few buildings not full of wounded soldiers now. I have seen the heroic care the women of the city have given.”
“How are you, Pastor?”
“We can talk about me in a few minutes. How are your friends? Did they make it home?”
Carrie nodded her head joyfully. “So much has happened...” Suddenly she remembered Janie and turned toward the carriage. “Please let me introduce you to a friend of mine.” After the introductions had been made, she turned to the pastor. “I have plenty of time to do my shopping. Why don’t we go sit in Capitol Square and talk for a few minutes. Do you have time?”
“Certainly,” he agreed.
The shade from the trees covering the benches offered a welcome respite from the searing August heat. After finding a seat somewhat out of the flow of heavy traffic, Carrie turned to Pastor Anthony. “Rose and Moses made it to Philadelphia. I know very little about how it went. I got a short letter one night only telling me they had reached their destination safely.” She chose not to tell him about Moses’ being a Union spy and helping her escape the plantation.
“I’m so glad,” Pastor Anthony said fervently. “The Underground Railroad has pretty much faded out of existence now. There are huge numbers of slaves simply walking away from their owners and heading north to freedom. The war has given them cause to believe freedom is just around the corner.”