The Last, Long Night

by Ginny Dye

  Thomas stared at her as they neared the entrance of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church. “How did you get so wise?” he asked suddenly. He reached out to lay a hand on her cheek. “You have become a remarkable woman,” he murmured tenderly.

  Carrie leaned into him. “Because my father has always been a remarkable man.”

  “No.” Thomas shook his head firmly. “This wisdom came from somewhere besides me. Where?” His eyes demanded an answer.

  Carrie thought back. “Sarah taught me so much. And Aunt Abby. But the real lessons came when Robert was missing for almost ten months. I learned to listen because it was the only thing that kept me from going stark-raving mad.”

  “And God told you Robert would come home?”

  “No,” Carrie said slowly, “but I did keep hearing that God’s love would carry me through whatever happened if I would trust him.”

  “I see,” Thomas murmured, something hopeful coming to life in his eyes.

  The church bells clanging through the morning air made Thomas grab her hand and pull her into the church. As they settled down in their pew, she saw President Davis sitting alone at the front. Carrie knew he had sent his wife and children off to protect them from the revenge of the Union army.

  Carrie gazed around the full church and realized just many were searching for comfort. She suspected every church in Richmond was full. Reverend Minnigerode, still speaking with his slight Hessian accent, performed the service. It was impossible to focus on his sermon because her thoughts were far south with Robert. She prayed he was still alive, and then her prayers turned to Hobbs and Georgia. Finally, she thought of Moses and prayed he was still alive as she thought of the tens of thousands of Union soldiers who were paying the price to make Richmond fall.

  Then, as always, her thoughts spun to Rose and Aunt Abby, hoping and praying the fall of Richmond would also signal the end of the war. She could handle whatever would come next as long as she could have Rose and Aunt Abby in her life once again.

  A sudden motion at the back of the church grabbed her attention. Carrie felt her father stiffen beside her as they watched the pompous sexton move down the aisle, touch the president on his shoulder, and hand him a message.

  Davis rose immediately, his face grave and determined, and strode quietly from the church, his hat in hand, refusing to look at anyone.

  Carrie knew from the look on the president’s face, and from the expression on her own father’s face, that it had to be very serious. Her own alarm grew as she watched the sexton return to summon another high official, then another and another.

  Thomas leaned over to whisper in her ear. “I’ll come back to the house as soon as I can.” Then he rose quietly, slipped from his pew and hurried from the church.

  Carrie stared after him and hardly heard Minnigerode urge the congregation to sit calmly. He managed to keep them in place a few minutes longer before they all rose and rushed from the building.

  “Carrie?” Janie slid up next to her and grabbed her hand, her arm hooked through Clifford’s.

  Jeremy fell in on the other side of her.

  Carrie smiled at all of them, loving them for the support they offered, but her worries were for her father who would soon be on the run from the Federal government for doing what he had believed was the right thing to do. She knew she was needed at the hospital, but she was going home to wait for her father.

  A thin lady, well dressed in spite of her hunger-pinched face, pushed past her crying, “Oh! The city is to be evacuated immediately, and the Yankees will be here before morning.” She raised her eyes to the sky and then whimpered, “What can it all mean? And what will become of us poor defenseless women, God only knows!”

  A younger woman hurried to grab the distraught woman’s hand. “Don’t you worry,” she said soothingly. “I don’t believe they will evacuate. That has been the false report so often over the years of this war.” Her voice was confident. “This is nothing but another of our Sunday rumors.”

  Carrie stared at the young woman whose eyes were full of burning defiance, but didn’t bother to correct her. She would discover it was more than rumor soon enough.

  “I’ll go to the Capitol,” Jeremy said. “I’ll see what I can find out.”

  Carrie nodded, turned up the hill to the throngs of people, and hurried for home. She knew it would probably take a while before her father could return to the house, but she knew there were things to be done to help prepare for his departure.

  Almost three hours later, Jeremy returned, his eyes and face grave with concern.

  “They’re evacuating,” Carrie said flatly, having accepted the truth the moment the sexton tapped President Davis’s shoulder.

  “Yes. The city is in chaos. The banks just opened, telling all their customers to come get their money.”

  Carrie gasped. “I hadn’t thought about that!”

  “You have money in the bank?”

  “No, thankfully. Father took me and Janie down to withdraw everything last week.” She didn’t add it was hidden away in her father’s wardrobe. Just as with the mirror, she would keep her father’s secret and let him reveal it to those he chose.

  Jeremy smiled grimly. “I’m glad you have it, though I doubt there is any value in Confederate currency any longer.”

  Janie came into the room, her blue eyes wide with worry. “Will they burn Richmond like they did Columbia?”

  Jeremy frowned. “The reports are unclear as to who actually burned Columbia, but we are certain liquor played a crucial part in it. I just attended a special meeting of the city council. Governor Smith was there. He promised to leave two militia companies behind to maintain order.”

  “Two militia companies for this whole city?” Carrie asked in dismay, imagining the chaos that would certainly erupt.

  Jeremy nodded briefly. “I know what you’re thinking, but they have taken steps to keep things under control. The council appointed twenty-five men in each of the three wards to destroy all the whiskey barrels and liquor supplies.” He hesitated and then finished. “The mayor and a citizens’ committee were authorized to meet the Federal army and arrange for a peaceful surrender of the city.”

  “Do you know where my father is?” Carrie asked.

  “I saw him boxing papers in his office,” Jeremy reported. “He said he would be here shortly.”

  Just then, Thomas strode through the door, his face tight with worry and his eyes burning with anger. They softened when he saw Carrie standing next to the window.

  Carrie sprang forward and fell into his arms, the reality of evacuation hitting her for the first time. Thomas held her closely for several moments and then set her back gently. “We must talk.”

  Carrie swallowed hard and then joined Jeremy, Janie, and Clifford on the sofa. Her father remained standing, obviously fighting for control.

  “Petersburg has fallen. The Union army will be in Richmond tomorrow morning.”

  Carrie stifled a groan. She had wished for this, but now that it was actually here she fought the fear that swept through her, realizing she had no idea when she would see her father again. Although her hatred for the war intensified, she remained silent, letting her father talk.

  “Grant is sending enough men to take the city, but most of his army is in pursuit of Lee who is headed southwest along the Appomattox River.”

  Carrie could only hope Robert was part of the marching army, but she also knew the agony he must feel having to march away from Richmond and leave her. She suddenly felt more alone than she ever had in her life. “Are you certain you must leave, Father?”

  Thomas hesitated and then looked at her squarely. “Do you remember Dahlgren’s failed attempt to take the city last year?”

  “Of course.” Carrie’s face whitened as she remembered the letter that had been found on his body reporting his intention to kill high Confederate officers.

  Thomas’ eyes said he knew her thoughts had followed his. “We don’t know how far they will go. We do k
now that people close to positions of power are in danger of capture and imprisonment. I will admit I have no desire to spend time in a Yankee prison.”

  Carrie shuddered at the idea of her beloved father locked away. “You must go,” she said urgently. “I have everything ready for you. Granite is already saddled in the barn. I fed him all I could and hung a bag of grain on the saddle. I had May fix you some food that is already in the saddlebags. It should hold you for several days.”

  Thomas reached out to stroke her hair, his eyes speaking his gratitude. “Thank you,” he said softly. “I love you, Carrie.”

  “I love you, too!” Carrie cried. Then she whispered, “You’ll get word to me?” Her throat constricted as she thought of watching her father ride away.

  “As soon as I can,” Thomas promised. He crushed her to him in a smothering hug and then stepped away to grab Jeremy into a warm embrace as well. He did the same with Janie and Clifford.

  “I’ll take care of Carrie, Thomas,” Jeremy promised.

  Thomas managed a smile. “I know you will. Thank you. I’m trusting all of you will take care of each other. I would still try to convince you to come with me, but I know it would be futile. Even if I had a way to get you out of the city, I know each of you believes your place is here.”

  “For now,” Jeremy agreed firmly.

  Carrie, watching Jeremy’s face closely, suddenly realized he was staying for her. Her heart swelled with love and gratitude. She knew she should urge him to go, but she couldn’t. Despising her weakness, she leaned against his side. Grateful for Jeremy’s solid strength, she watched her father run upstairs to grab a few clothes which he threw into a bag, and then move toward the back door.

  All of them were with him when he led Granite from the stable. Carrie stepped forward to give him another fierce hug and then laid her face against Granite’s for a long moment as her father mounted, certain her heart would explode from the pain. Thomas smiled down at her and then turned his eyes on all of them for a long, burning moment before he swung Granite around and joined the throngs of people on the road.

  Jeremy and Clifford saw Carrie and Janie off to Chimborazo before they headed into town.

  The streets were filled with men waving farewell to families who had taken them in. Wagons and carriages bounced away with trunks and boxes, while servants carried bundles toward the rail stations. People with tear-streaked faces tight with fear and grief lined the roads and filled the porches. Women pressed their faces against windows as they watched the men they depended on for safety ride away.

  Jeremy winced as he saw several stretchers bearing pale, sick soldiers carried down the road. He had no idea where they were being taken, but he was sure they had begged to be removed from the city before the Yankees arrived and took them as prisoners of war.

  “You there!”

  Jeremy watched as an elegantly dressed gentleman stepped in front of a man on a horse heavily laden with baggage.

  “How much will you take for that horse?”

  The mounted man shook his head. “He’s not for sale. Not to you and not to the dozen others who have asked me.”

  The wealthy man reached into his pocket, pulled out a bag, and opened it enough to show its contents.

  Jeremy’s eyes widened as he recognized the glisten of gold.

  “I’ll give you the contents of this bag,” he said earnestly, obviously trying to hide his fear. “There is over one thousand dollars here. It’s yours.”

  The mounted man shook his head firmly, though his eyes shone with compassion. “Your money will do me no good in a Yankee prison,” he said shortly, moving his horse past the man and breaking into a rapid trot.

  His shoulders rounded in defeat, the elegant man stared after him.

  Jeremy stepped up to him. “What about the train?” he asked. “Might you get a seat on a train out?”

  The man shook his head dejectedly. “The train station is a madhouse,” he stated bitterly. “Only high officials are able to get a seat. They’re going to let the rest of us go to the devil.” He scowled and turned away, his eyes once again scanning the road for another horse an owner might be persuaded to part with for enough gold.

  Jeremy stared after him and then turned to Clifford. “Let’s go to the train station. I want to see what is happening.”

  Clifford nodded and fell in step beside him. “Things will get bad,” he said as he looked at the hordes of terrified people thronging the roads.

  Jeremy knew he was right. “These people have endured too much,” he said quietly. “Now those who have sacrificed and served the Confederate cause so unselfishly are being left to fend for themselves.”

  “You could have left with the other officials,” Clifford observed. “Your position would have allowed that.”

  Jeremy shrugged.

  “You’re staying behind to take care of Carrie,” Clifford said.

  “I suppose I am,” Jeremy admitted. “There is no other option for Thomas. He will be one of the first imprisoned if he had chosen to stay. There is less chance I will be. Carrie has given so much to so many. My father… Me…” He glanced around the chaotic streets. “I couldn’t leave her here alone.”

  Carrie and Janie felt the tension and fear vibrating through the air as they walked up the hill to Chimborazo. The air was still soft and balmy, but the feelings ran harsh and cold - tight faces and frantic eyes on every person they passed. The chaos grew as they drew closer to the hospital wards. Everywhere they looked, they saw patients with casts and bandages standing in little groups outside the hospital wards.

  Carrie saw several of the patients she had helped settle the night before. Without stopping to think, she walked up to the group they were standing in. “What’s going on here?”

  The men glanced at her, but their eyes were too busy scanning the horizon to pay her much attention. Carrie stood quietly while they continued to talk.

  “We’ve got to get out of here!”

  “The Yankees broke through our lines and are on the way to take Richmond. They’ll take all of us as prisoners.”

  “I ain’t fought through this whole war to end up in some Yankee prison,” another snapped.

  One of Carrie’s patients turned to her. “Are we hearing what’s right? Did the Yankees break through our lines?”

  Carrie took a breath, knowing if she told them the truth they would walk away from the medical care they needed, but having far too much respect for what they had done for four years to not be honest with them. She nodded. “Yes, it’s true,” she said quietly. “They have taken Petersburg, and are on their way to Richmond.”

  “And the President and the Cabinet are running away?” another asked in disbelief.

  Carrie knew belief was the only thing that had kept them alive for four years. She wasn’t about to take it from them now. “They are headed to Danville to set up another government,” she said firmly. “President Davis said the fight will go on.”

  Faces brightened around her.

  “Where’s Lee?” another asked. They had obviously decided Carrie was a valid source of information.

  “Yeah,” one of her patients added. “We heard about you before we got here. Ain’t your husband a captain? Captain Robert Borden?”

  “Yes,” Carrie replied softly.

  “He’s a fine officer,” one of the men said earnestly. “And we hear you’re a real fine doctor.”

  Carrie didn’t bother to explain that she wasn’t really a doctor, but she did decide to take advantage of her influence. “Then I hope you’ll hear me when I tell you that you all need to be back in bed.” She looked around and remembered tending the gunshot wounds and broken limbs on their emaciated bodies. “You won’t get far in the condition you’re in.”

  “You think we’re going to lay here and let the Yankees take us as prisoners?” a young boy exclaimed. One of his eyes was heavily bandaged. The one that wasn’t gleamed at her from beneath stringy brown hair.

  “Where are
you planning to go?” Carrie asked quietly. “There are no trains available; all available wagons are trying to get supplies to Lee, and you can’t find a horse anywhere in this city.”

  “We’ll walk if we have to,” one insisted, fear blending with the pain twisting his face.

  “And how far do you think you’ll get?” Carrie asked compassionately. “Every one of you is gravely wounded. Without care, you will end up with massive infections that will kill you. There is nowhere you can go to get care. You may escape the Yankees, but you’ll likely die,” she finished firmly. “Is that better?”

  The men grumbled among themselves while Carrie walked away. She’d done all she could. As she opened the door to enter her ward, she looked back and then sighed with relief when all but one of the men turned back into their hospital wards. Three of them smiled at her weakly as they hobbled back into her ward and lay back down in their beds.

  Carrie felt a wave of relief until closer inspection revealed about a fourth of her patients were gone. The beds had been full the night before. Now there were many empty beds.

  A nearby patient gazed up at her with feverish eyes, his jaw clenched against the pain from his leg amputation. “They didn’t figure they wanted to wait around for the Yankees.”

  Carrie nodded briskly. There was nothing she could do for them now. She would rather focus on her remaining patients . She knew caring for them would help her walk through whatever was coming in the days ahead. “Let’s take a look at that wound,” she said kindly, beginning to pull back the bandages to check for infection. She looked up for an orderly to bring him some water, but quickly realized no one was there but her.

  Her patient interpreted her look. “All the orderlies were called out this morning to defend Richmond.”