Through the Storm

by Beverly Jenkins

  Raimond hoped this delay didn’t mean she’d been captured or injured.

  Thinking about Mrs. Tubman’s fate served another purpose. It took Raimond’s mind off the heartbreaking news he’d received from home. His brother, Gerrold LeVeq, had been killed in a battle in Mississippi more than six weeks previously, but because of the war, Raimond hadn’t received the letter from his grieving mother, Juliana, until two days ago, informing him of the death and subsequent funeral. Gerrold had been buried in the family plot outside their hometown of New Orleans. Had the news reached Raimond in a more timely manner, he might have been at his mother’s side, consoling her, as his brother’s casket was lowered into the earth. Raimond had loved Gerrold deeply, and his death left him stricken. Although he knew personal heartache had to be set aside during times of war, he found it impossible to keep the pain entirely at bay.

  “Major?”

  Raimond looked up to see his aide and friend, Andre Renaud. “The sentries say they’ve received a signal verifyng that Mrs. Tubman’s on her way.”

  Raimond allowed himself a small smile. This was the best news he’d heard in days. “Good.”

  “Do you wish to head back tonight,” Andre asked, “or shall we wait until morning?”

  “Tonight.”

  Although Union forces now controlled most of the area surrounding Atlanta, the Rebs were not in full retreat. It had become a guerrilla war. Pockets of Confederate resisters, using hit-and-run tactics to harass Union camps and outposts, were beginning to drive Sherman to distraction. Raimond had no desire to tangle with the Rebs, mainly because the men assigned to this mission were as green as spring grass, newly mustered Black recruits who needed more training in weaponary and tactics before they could be called upon to defend themselves and those around them. “As soon as Mrs. Tubman arrives, escort her here, then have everyone move out. If we push it, we can make camp by dawn.”

  “I’ll inform the sergeants they should begin preparations.”

  “Merci.”

  When the raft reached the shore, Sable waited while Araminta thanked the men, then both women waded ashore. The raft pushed silently off again. A quick scamper up the bank brought them to where a man wearing a blue uniform waited with a lantern. “Mrs. Tubman?” he asked.

  “Yes, it’s me.”

  “Welcome back, General. The major is waiting for you. Please follow me.”

  They fell in behind him, and Sable, surprised by the sight of a Black man in a uniform, said to Araminta, “I didn’t know you were a general.”

  Araminta chuckled. “I wear many bandannas, child.”

  The soldier ushered them into a dimly lit tent. The man inside was dark-skinned and tower tall. The razor-thin beard highlighting his chiseled jaw set off a handsomeness that not even the shadows could mask.

  Upon their entrance a smile creased his face. Hastening over, he grabbed Araminta in an affectionate hug that lifted her off her feet. Laughing, she cackled, “Put me down, you big bear. Old woman like me can’t take all this.”

  He grinnned and set her on her feet. “I was beginning to worry about you. Where’ve you been?”

  “Had to wait for Sable.”

  The man seemed to notice Sable’s presence for the first time. He bowed. “Pardonez-moi, mademoiselle. In my zeal to greet an old friend I forgot my manners. I am Major Raimond LeVeq.”

  Even dressed in the ragged blue uniform, he was tall, gallant, and very overwhelming. “I’m Sable Fontaine.”

  “Enchanté, Sable Fontaine.”

  She sensed he was a man at ease with women. His coal-black eyes and dazzling French accent undoubtedly rendered most of them witless.

  He turned his attention back to Araminta while Sable wondered why she’d been brought there. Araminta told LeVeq, “I need to pass my report on to General Sherman as soon as possible.”

  “I thought that might be the case, so we’re pulling out as soon as we can.”

  “Good. I’ll ride on ahead if you don’t mind.”

  “No, I don’t. I’ll send a couple of men as escorts.”

  “Company is always welcome. Will you see to Sable?”

  He turned back to her. “Of course.”

  “Get her a job clerking or something. She’s real smart.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Sable felt her chin rising of its own accord as their gazes held. “I prefer to go along with Araminta, if that’s possible,” she stated.

  He shook his head. “It isn’t. I can spare one horse, but not two. My men and I will see that you arrive safely.”

  Araminta interjected, “Then it’s settled. Sable, I’ll see you later today. Raimond, take good care of her. According to my dream, she’ll be your reward.”

  “For what?”

  “Just take care of her.”

  Before Sable or Raimond could question her further, she slipped out the tent’s flap and was gone.

  For a moment they just stood there, then Sable finally broke the awkward silence. “She sets great stock by her dreams, it seems.”

  “Yes, she does.”

  “Do you have any idea what she meant?”

  “About your being my reward? No, but you’re so beautiful, I’m interested in finding out.”

  He was a born charmer, she could already see that. “That’s very flattering, but I’m not interested.”

  “No?” He folded his arms over his chest and surveyed her. “May I ask why not?”

  “I’m here for freedom, not a dalliance with a man I don’t know.”

  “How about a dalliance with a man you do know?”

  She couldn’t hide her smile. “No.”

  “Fair enough, but Araminta’s dreams are very powerful. You may become my reward whether you like it or not.”

  Sable found fault with his logic, but not with his power to turn a woman’s head. She tossed back saucily, “You are entirely too sure of yourself, Major. Certainly someone has pointed that out before.”

  “Never,” he replied.

  He had eyes that would make a woman surrender her soul. “So when are we leaving and where are we going?”

  “I love a challenging woman.”

  Sable shook her head. “I’m not here to be a challenge.”

  “Just my reward.”

  “Rewards are earned.”

  “You doubt my worthiness?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

  “Just your faithfulness.”

  “To you I could be faithful.”

  “Lightning strikes those who lie, Major LeVeq.”

  Raimond laughed. “I am going to enjoy earning my reward, Miss Fontaine.”

  “You cannot earn what isn’t offered.”

  “We’ll see.”

  He escorted her from the tent. Their first argument began when Sable refused his offer to ride with him atop his beautiful stallion. “I can walk, Major.”

  Saddling his stallion, Raimond looked over at her standing beside the tent. The first thing he planned to do was find a replacement for that rag of a dress. She was too beautiful for such tattered attire. “Are you afraid of horses?”

  “No.”

  “Then why won’t you ride with me?”

  “Because I don’t know you well enough, Major.”

  “You’re worried about your reputation?”

  “Among other things, yes.”

  “It’s a very long walk.”

  “Walking is all I’ve been doing for the past four days. I can make it.”

  “We must return to camp as quickly as possible. We can’t do that if we have to match our pace to your walk.”

  “Why is speed so imperative?”

  “These woods are full of Rebs and we’re not looking for a fight.”

  Sable also had no desire to be caught up in a battle. She thought long and hard for an alternate solution to her dilemma, but could not come up with one. It came to her that riding with one of the other soldiers might prove better, but she didn’t know any of them e
ither. “I suppose I shall have to ride with you,” she conceded.

  “Excellent choice.”

  The horse was now saddled. Raimond mounted, then reached down to lift her up. When she was settled across the saddle in front of him, he told her, “You’re going to have to lean back a bit, Miss Fontaine. I won’t be able to see clearly with you sitting up as stiff as a fence post. I promise I won’t bite unless asked.”

  Sable didn’t reply to that last playful disclaimer. Instead she did as instructed and leaned back a bit so that his strong chest pressed against her shoulder and side.

  “Comfortable?” he asked, looking down into her eyes.

  “Not really, no, but I’ve no other choice, have I?”

  “By now, most women would be melting in my arms.”

  “You remind me so much of my brother. Women come very easily to him too.”

  “And is that a bad thing?”

  “For the women who are left in pieces, yes, it is a bad thing.”

  “Has a man ever left you in pieces?”

  “No.”

  “And neither shall I.”

  He said no more as he urged the horse forward.

  Raimond and his small band of fifteen cavalrymen were now gathered on the outskirts of the makeshift camp, ready to leave. Sable tried to ignore the curiosity she sensed in the other men as LeVeq introduced her as a friend of Mrs. Tubman. She knew that to them she looked more like a friend of the major, but no one expressed this thought, at least not within earshot.

  As they set off down the road, Sable wondered where the Old Queens were leading her now. She was riding with a group of Yankees, and she didn’t know whether to be elated or fearful. Since the beginning of the war, slaves had been told lurid tales about the Yankees. Owners like Sally Ann had gone out of their way to try to convince their slaves that the Yankees both consumed human flesh and committed such ghastly atrocities that no slave in his or her right mind would want to seek freedom. Sable didn’t believe the tales, but she did feel apprehensive about crossing over into this new life.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “A contraband camp up river.”

  “What’s a contraband camp?”

  “A place where escaped slaves can stay until the government decides what to do with them.”

  “I’ve heard about such encampments.”

  “They’re overcrowded. There’s sickness, little food. We’re asking folks to go elsewhere if they can.”

  Sable wondered what he meant by “we.” Although he had introduced himself as a major, she doubted a man of the race would have anything to say about such matters. But then, she’d never been free before. Were such things possible? “How long have you been a major?” she asked.

  “Since Lincoln opened the door for Black men to fight in ’63.”

  “Where’s home?”

  “I was born in Haiti, but Louisiana’s home.”

  She found that surprising.

  “Where’s home for you?” he asked.

  “South of here,” was all she’d admit.

  She sensed him waiting for her to explain further, but when he didn’t press she relaxed.

  Sable had no idea she’d fallen asleep until she was shaken lightly awake. Disoriented and groggy, she opened her eyes. Her position atop the horse startled her just as much as LeVeq’s smile did, but the memories soon slid back.

  “Bonjour,” he said softly.

  In the full light of dawn, he was even more handsome than he’d appeared previously. “Good morning,” she answered sleepily. “Are we at the camp yet?”

  “In another few minutes. I thought I’d give you the option of dismounting before we arrive, if you wish. I’m thinking about your reputation and all.”

  Sable had had no intention of falling asleep within his arms. “I must’ve been very tired. I’m sorry I fell asleep.”

  “No apology needed. I’m pleased you were so comfortable.”

  The road had become so narrow, they were riding single file. Sable looked up at the major and asked, “Can we stop for a moment? I need to…”

  He searched her face and deduced her plight. “Of course.”

  She was glad she didn’t have to explain fully. Having to voice the request had been embarrassing enough. In reponse to his shouted command, the line halted, and he veered his horse out of formation, carrying Sable into the dense trees bordering the road. He dismounted, then reached up, and after placing his sure hands around her waist, slowly eased her to the ground.

  “I’ll be right back,” she promised, and hastened farther into the trees for privacy.

  She took care of her needs, then returned. She felt much better as she repositioned herself, and he guided the horse back to the others.

  “Better?” he asked as they got under way.

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  Less than an hour later, the small company of Black cavalrymen crested a rise, and the sight of the vast encampment spread across the valley below them took Sable’s breath away.

  With a dignity that lent power to his words, her escort said, “Welcome to freedom, Miss Fontaine.”

  Filled with an emotion she couldn’t name, Sable met his gaze. “Is this it?”

  “Yes.”

  Sable realized there were tears standing in her eyes. Freedom! For three generations the women in her line had lived as captives, unable to breathe free, walk free, or live as they chose, but now the circle had been broken. She’d crossed over, and like Araminta, she vowed she’d die before they took her back. “I’d prefer to walk in on my own, if I might.”

  He nodded. Under the curious eyes of the others, Sable dismounted and began to walk slowly down the rise. She was vaguely aware of the rest of the mounted company passing her by as they rode pell-mell down the hill, their joy apparent, but she took her time. As she did, she turned her eyes up to the dawn sky and threw a kiss to Mahti and the Old Queens, thanking them for their protection and for sending Ararminta to be her guide to freedom.

  The major had not exaggerated the camp’s crowded conditions. Tents and wooden shacks covered the land for as far as she could see. There seemed to be hundreds of Black folks walking about, gathered around low-burning cook fires, seated in front of tents. Some were sitting silently while others conversed spiritedly. The smell of smoke and cooking food filled the early morning air. She heard babies crying and dogs barking. There were old women hawking eggs and livestock bawling from makeshift pens. She looked up to see the major mounted at her side and said happily, “I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.”

  “Both, if they are with joy.”

  She liked him, she realized. Beneath his handsome playfulness was a man of depth and feeling. “Where do I go now?”

  “With me to be processed.”

  Sable gave him such a skeptical look, his face brightened with a smile. “You doubt my intentions?”

  Sable suspected he treated all women to his dazzling charm, making them feel as if they were the center of his world, but she saw no harm in basking in the attention for a short while. “I doubt your intentions, yes,” she declared.

  “Challenging, beautiful, and smart,” he told her, his eyes shining with amusement. “Earning my reward may not be as easy as I first thought.”

  “Building snowmen for the devil may be easier.”

  He chuckled. “You are going to be worth more than gold, I’m thinking.”

  “Much more.”

  Their eyes held for a moment longer, and it seemed as if the world had ceased to turn.

  Sable shook off the odd reverie. “Where does this processing take place?”

  “At the big house in the center of camp.” Raimond felt as if he’d just had roots worked on him. He swore he saw his future in her eyes.

  She looked around. “Which direction?”

  He pointed east. “About a half-mile that way.”

  The people in the camp flowed around them. Men tipped their hats to Sable as they passed. Others shoo
k the mounted major’s hand to welcome him back. She noted how he took time to reply to all the cries of “Good morning, Major” thrown his way, and to acknowledge everyone who approached him, from wizened elders and small children, to young women with flirting eyes. He appeared to be quite popular here. Although Sable would never admit it out loud, the respect he showed the residents and the respect they offered in return further enhanced his standing in her eyes. “Will I be able to find the processing station on my own?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Maybe, but this is a big place. It was once one of the largest plantations in the area, or so I’ve been told.”

  Sable knew she should probably distance herself from the French major. Who knew what could happen if she became susceptible to his charm? But she decided to accept his offer of help one last time. “I’ll accept your escort, but I will not ride.”

  “Fair enough.”

  He set the black stallion’s pace to match her steps, and they ventured into the camp.

  On the way, he was greeted by more of the residents and many soldiers. Sable told him, “You seem to know everyone here.”

  “Just about.”

  “Do you hold a position of authority?”

  “I suppose you could call it that. I’m in charge here.”

  Sable stopped in her tracks. “You’re jesting.”

  He shook his head. “No, I’m the camp commander.”

  Sable’s surprise lingered. “I knew the Yankees had some Black soldiers, but I never imagined they’d let men of the race be in charge of anything. Do you have real authority?”

  “I have the authority to protect this camp and its residents against incursion, yes.”

  “I’m impressed, Major.”

  “I’m glad there’s something about me that impresses you.”

  “Accustomed to impressing people, are you?”