by Ginny Dye
A murmur of agreement gave Matthew hope for the future. One lone voice caused him concern.
“I don’t reckon they oughta be slaves,” one man growled into the darkness, “but that don’t mean they’re the same as us. When this war is over, they’ve got to know their place.”
“Their place?” Matthew asked.
“They might be free, but they will never be equal,” he stated firmly. “They should not be allowed to have the same freedoms we do. They might be able to take care of themselves, and I reckon they can fight pretty good, but white people will always be better than them. It’s just the way it is.”
His sentence broke off when a shell whistled over their heads. Matthew listened carefully, recognized the bass note, and tensed, poking his head up a little to look back toward the lines. He groaned when he saw the shell hit one of the supply wagons and explode on impact. Screams indicated more than just the wagon was hit.
Cheers from the Rebel side of the lines rent the night but then faded as soldiers popped up from muddy pits all around and fired at the Rebel side, yelling taunts as they did. Matthew ducked down, grateful for the pit full of mud and water that kept him from becoming a Rebel’s target.
Just then a figure emerged from the shadows, leaned down to whisper to Brady, and then sprinted off, melting into the darkness once again.
Brady exchanged quiet words with the pit leader and then grinned down at Matthew. “Having a good time, Mr. Justin?”
Matthew managed to grin back. “I figure I have the easy job here, Brady.”
“Yep. I reckon you do.” Brady fired a few more rounds and then crouched beside him again. “There probably will be a lot more firing, so I don’t know that you’ll be able to talk to many more men. I hear tell we’re supposed to keep things hopping tonight.”
“Why?”
Brady shrugged. “That would be a question I wouldn’t expect an answer to,” he said easily. “The order came down to keep things hopping. I figure Sherman is up to something, but he won’t bother to tell me about it.”
Brady glanced around at all the men during a brief lull. “I figure Matthew needs to get back behind the lines, fellas.”
The soldier turned back to Matthew. “We will rip at the Rebel lines to give you some time to get back behind our lines. When we stand up and start firing, you run like crazy.”
Matthew nodded, waited for Brady’s hand signal, then crawled out of the muddy hole, and took off running.
Thomas Cromwell strode through the door and tossed a paper onto the dining room table where everyone was seated. “There is hope,” he announced with relief.
Carrie waited for him to explain, wondering if his news would give her more information about Robert in the Shenandoah.
“The Atlanta defenses are strong.” He pointed at the paper. “The Richmond Enquirer reports Sherman is in bad shape and is unable to get past our defenses. Atlanta will hold.”
“Wonderful!” one of the boarders exclaimed. “At some point he’ll get tired of losing, just like Grant will get tired of hammering away at Petersburg, and they will leave us alone.”
Thomas nodded. “Lincoln’s campaign is in trouble. If McClellan wins the election, we believe there is a great chance he will end the war and let us have our freedom. We just have to hang on. If we can just make it to the election…
Louisa was startled when Perry burst through the door. The sound of exploding shells had covered the sound of his stump on the porch. “What is it?” she asked sharply, looking up from where she was rolling biscuits.
“I’m afraid it’s over,” Perry exclaimed. “Hood was aware Sherman would try to destroy the railroad at Macon, so he sent out General Hardee with two corps.” His mouth tightened.
Louisa watching him carefully, knew the next news would not be good. She thought briefly of the idyllic years she had spent as a child on Blackwell Plantation. She had been so certain secession would solve all Southern woes. Louisa had been convinced it would be a short war, and had ridiculed Carrie when her friend suggested the war would be a horrible thing. The last three years had taught her many bitter lessons.
Perry was silent so long she felt compelled to say something. “It didn’t go well?”
Perry shook his head heavily. “Sherman had almost his entire infantry with him. They smashed Hardee’s army and completely destroyed the railroad. They melted railroad ties in big bonfires and wrapped them around trees.”
Louisa forced herself to take a deep breath. Panic would do no good. They could not leave because she would never leave her mother. “What happens now?”
Perry looked at her with admiration. “You’ve become a very strong woman,” he said simply.
Louisa smiled. “Circumstances seem to call for it. My greatest prayer is that I will not give up on my life as my mother has.”
Perry nodded, gave her a tender look, and then answered her question. “Hood is evacuating the city tonight. It’s either evacuate or surrender his army. He’s leaving with the hopes he can pull Sherman away from the city to fight again.”
“I see…” Louisa waited, knowing there was more.
“He’s opening all the stores to distribute any supplies he has left so Sherman can’t have access to them. I hired a wagon to bring us bags of flour and some other supplies. There are already long lines of people.”
“You think Sherman will let us stay in the city?”
“I don’t know.” Perry hesitated and then continued, his expression saying he knew his next words would upset her. “Hood has ordered the train cars and ammunition depot to be set ablaze.”
“He’s going to blow it all up?” Louisa cried. “What will happen to the people who live near there? Surely it will kill them!”
“He’s ordered an evacuation of everyone within a half mile of the depots,” he hastened to assure her.
“So they’re just going to lose their homes and everything they can’t carry,” Louisa said sarcastically. “How kind!”
“If it helps to know, everyone handled it well.”
Louisa looked at him sharply.
“I was part of the team sent out to tell residents they had to leave. Some of our troops passed by while they were packing, but everyone stopped to come out onto the streets and cheer them.”
Louisa nodded. “I do know our soldiers did everything they could to save the city,” she finally said. “Are there plans to control the burning, or will the whole city be left to go up in flames?” she asked, determined to remain calm.
“There will be men to control it,” Perry assured her.
The explosions began late that night. Reverberations could be heard for miles. Nearby homes were destroyed. Windows were blown out of every home within a half mile radius. Hood’s entire eighty car munitions train was completely destroyed. The only remains were metal wheels – glowing strangely in the wild orange flames and reflecting back the terror of the night.
Louisa stood quietly on the porch, Perry’s arm wrapped around her tightly.
“Your mother?” Perry asked.
Louisa glanced at him sadly. “When I told her what was happening, she merely looked away and said nothing. She gets thinner every day. Her face is taking on the look of a starved person. I can barely get her to eat or drink.”
“She gave up a long time ago,” Perry murmured.
Louisa wiped at her tears. “I just so hoped I could bring her back to life - that a new beginning would make her care about life again.”
“The only life she cared about was Blackwell Plantation,” Perry said gently, pulling her even closer. “Your mother doesn’t have your strength, Louisa.”
“She was calling Daddy and Nathan in her sleep last night,” Louisa admitted. “There was even a happy look on her face for a few minutes. It’s the happiest I’ve seen her in so long… and she was asleep.”
Perry remained silent, just holding her.
“We can’t leave the city, you know,” Louisa said. “Mama would never survive
the move.”
Perry nodded. “I know. We’ll figure it out.”
“Will Sherman allow anyone to stay?”
“We don’t know yet. The mayor is going out tomorrow to surrender the city. We’ll find out more soon.”
Matthew finished his wire and settled back to stare at Peter. “It’s sent.”
“Mine, too.”
Atlanta has fallen and is now in Union hands. Story to follow.
Matthew stared off into the distance. “This will save Lincoln’s election,” he said quietly. “Sherman didn’t do everything he set out to do…”
“Like destroy Hood’s army.”
“Right, but he has secured Atlanta for the Union.”
“The thing Sherman probably cares the least about. He’s the most apolitical man I know. All he cares about is winning the war,” Peter replied.
Matthew shrugged, “Whether he cares or not, the fall of Atlanta will be just the kind of news people want – something positive that says this whole war effort is worth it.”
“You sound less than enthusiastic,” Peter observed.
Matthew gazed at him. “I really don’t know what I am,” he finally murmured. “I’d like to say I think all of this has been worth it. I’d like to say that when this war is finally over things will go back to normal.”
Peter held up his hand. “Say no more. I’m with you. When this war finally does end, it’s not really going to end anything. Most people don’t want to acknowledge it, but it’s simply going to open a new chapter of struggle and change.”
“I wonder how many more people have to die before it’s over,” Matthew said heavily. “How many more towns will be destroyed? How much more of our country will be decimated before it is done?” He paused. “The only good I can see from all this is the re-election of Lincoln. I still firmly believe he’s the only man who can lead our country out of this mess and into a new beginning.”
Perry pushed through the door just as Louisa made her way down the stairs.
“I’m afraid I have terrible news,” he said, reaching for her hand and continuing when Louisa just gazed at him. “Sherman is demanding all citizens leave the city. There are to be no exceptions.”
He paused, but Louisa still just looked at him.
“I appealed to the mayor and told him about your mother, but he reaffirmed there are to be no exceptions.” He took a deep breath. “We’ll figure it out. I’m sure we can find a way to transport your mother from the city.”
Louisa’s complete silence finally registered. So did the blank look when she turned to stare out the window.
“Honey?” Perry reached for her hand, shocked to find it slack and cold. “Louisa,” he said more urgently, turning her to face him. “What is it?”
Louisa glanced at the stairs briefly and then stared up at him. “Mama,” she whispered. “You won’t have to worry about moving her.” She gasped and allowed the tears to fill her eyes. “Mama is dead, Perry. She’s gone to be with Daddy and Nathan.”
Perry drew her close as sobs wracked her body. He said nothing, just rocked her silently, letting her sob out her grief.
When her tears finally stopped, he sat silently for a while more and then lifted her chin so her eyes would meet his. “We’re going home, honey. We’re leaving Atlanta, and we’re going home. We’ll deal with what we find when we get there.
“Home,” Louisa whispered finally, her hand resting on her belly. “Home.”
Chapter Fourteen
Rose could barely contain her happiness. She grasped the letter in her hands, hurried back to the cabin, and laughed when she saw June on the porch. Wait until June found out!
“It’s way too hot to walk that fast,” June observed, wiping her face with a cloth as she hid from the sun under the narrow overhang of their porch covering. Both boys slept on a blanket she had laid on the porch to escape the stifling heat of the cabin. She peered at Rose harder. “You don’t seem too upset, so it must not be bad news.”
Rose waved the envelope in the air. “I just got a letter from Moses!”
June smiled broadly. “How’s that brother of mine doing?”
“He’s doing just fine,” Rose said joyfully. “The hard fighting for Richmond is over right now. Our soldiers have Richmond under siege. The conditions aren’t pleasant, but they’re better than they were.”
June stared at her and cocked her head. “And that makes you happy? What about Carrie?”
Rose nodded and frowned. “I absolutely hate to think of Carrie having to survive in Richmond right now, but there’s another reason this letter makes me so happy…” She paused, her eyes twinkling, and let the silence stretch out.
“You planning on telling me sometime today?” June finally demanded.
Rose shrugged, enjoying the game she was playing, but knowing she wouldn’t hold out much longer without blurting it out. “It’s good news,” she admitted playfully as she waved the envelope, and then fell silent again.
“You gonna make me jump down off this porch and take that letter?”
“Going to,” Rose corrected automatically and then laughed when she saw June’s eyes narrow with threat. “Okay. Okay. I can’t wait another second to tell you, anyway!”
Rose flipped the letter to the second page and began to read…
We had a new batch of soldiers join us yesterday. I spent some time talking with them to get to know them. One of them, a big fellow, told me had been hired out by his owner to work on the fortifications around Richmond.
She heard June’s gasp, but Rose just kept reading.
He said he had escaped when he found out about the North taking on black soldiers. Evidently, his escape is quite a story, but he made it and then joined up. He said it was the only way he knew to reunite with his wife, who was still a slave on a plantation outside Richmond.
Rose, it’s Simon! June’s husband, Simon.
“Oh, my God,” June whispered, tears streaming down her face. “Is there more?” she demanded in a broken voice.
Rose turned back to the letter.
You should have seen his face when I asked him if he was June’s husband from Saunders Plantation. We both danced around like lunatics when I told him I was June’s brother, and that June was safe with you in the contraband camp. My men thought we were both crazy until they got the whole story. We stayed up and talked for hours.
“Simon… Simon…,” June kept repeating his name, her tears falling in a cascade of joy.
You tell June her husband is safe and well and that he can hardly wait to see his little boy. We will watch after each other until both of you have your husband back with you.
Rose finished reading and then leapt onto the porch to give June a big hug. “Your Simon is okay. He’s with Moses.”
June took a deep breath and finally the smile broke through as she gazed tenderly at her sleeping son. “It’s been so long… almost two years… I was about to decide I had dreamed him up, but then I would look at little Simon and know our love was real – that my man was real.”
Simon woke up and raised his arms. June scooped him up and cuddled him close. “Your daddy is alive, Simon. He’s alive!”
Simon leaned back to stare at his mama’s glowing face. “Dadda?”
“Yes! Your daddy!”
Joy suffused June’s face as she looked at Rose. “He’s alive!”
Rose knew the reality was still working its way into June’s heart and mind. “That he is, June.” The same penetrating joy danced in her heart. “I’m so happy for you! For you and Simon.” Rose reached down and lifted John when his eyes opened and he looked up at her in sleepy confusion. “He and Moses will take care of each other. Moses has felt so lost without Pompey. Now he’ll have his brother-in-law with him.”
June nodded as her little Simon buried his face into her breast and began to nurse. “I reckon we’ve got some celebrating to do.”
Rose looked at the cabin and tried to imagine walking into the heat to cook s
ome food. “Anyone bring food by today?” she asked hopefully.
“What do you think?” June asked, laughing. “There isn’t a day that goes by that your students don’t bring you food.”
“Any celebrating food?”
June cocked her head and considered. “Only if you figure two blackberry pies and the sweetest cornbread you ever imagined are celebration foods. And that’s after we eat the collard greens and corn that is still piping hot on the table.”
Rose laughed happily, her eyes shining with joy. Both their men were alive, and June had finally had word from Simon after two years. This was a day to celebrate. “Let’s go eat under the Emancipation Oak,” she said suddenly.
“That’s a perfect idea!” June agreed. “When Simon is finished eating, you take the boys over. I’ll bring the food and a blanket for us all to eat on. It’ll be a sight cooler under that big oak tree.”
When Simon was finally full, Rose grabbed both boys by the hand and walked to the tree while staring up at it with wonder. The huge sentinel oak never ceased to awe her. This was the tree that Mary Peak, the first black teacher in the camp had taught under before there was a schoolhouse. It was also the tree where everyone had gathered to hear the Emancipation Proclamation read. She couldn’t help wondering how many generations of her people would stand under its mighty branches. Would they be able to grasp the power it had because of the stories it had seen unfold?
June walked up beside her quietly.
Rose glanced at her and then looked back up. “I hope it stands here for centuries,” she whispered. “I hope generations of black children will stand under this tree and understand the price that was paid for their freedom.”
June let the solemnity wrap them for a few minutes and then clapped her hands. “The generations will come, but right now we have some celebrating to do!” June broke away and danced a crazy jig around the tree, both boys staring at her in wonder. “My Simon is alive and well!”