by Mikki Sadil
When Ben walked into the hotel, the first thing he saw was Finn, Joe, and Sam playing cards at a nearby table. Finn raised a hand to signal he’d seen him, and returned to the cards in front of him.
The man who stood at the counter was tall, broad-shouldered, with a hawk-like nose, and heavy red beard. His long hair was the same color but with streaks of grey through it. He wore it tied back at his neck.
“What can I do for you, young fella?”
Ben looked over at Finn, who nodded. “I’d like a room for tonight.”
“That will be one dollar. If you want a bath, that’s twenty-five cents extra. Payable now.”
Ben gave him the money, including the extra for a bath, and walked over to Finn’s table.
“Hey, Ben. Been awhile, set yourself down, and we’ll talk.”
Joe and Sam gave Ben a slight nod as he pulled up a chair, but continued playing. He sat silently for a few minutes until they had played out their hand, and all three looked over at him.
“I reckon ye don’t know much about why ye are here? Ye don’t never seem to come with much know-how about what we be goin’ to do.” Joe was as querulous as he had been before when Ben worked with him.
Before Ben could answer him, Finn grinned. “Now, Joe, leave the boy alone. He done a good job when he was with us before. He’ll do good this time, too, right, Ben?”
He shrugged. “I hope so. I still don’t know what we are going to do, or when. Are you going to tell me what this job is before we start doing it?”
Finn laughed. “Well, this is going to be a little more dangerous than setting up a train to blow itself to smithereens. We’re going to do a little bridge blowing. Now…”
“Yep, but we be gonna ride a train to do it, and iffen that train get blowed up too, that be too danged bad.” As usual, Joe had to put in his opinion.
Finn shook his head. “Joe,” he said patiently, “this is not the same thing we’ve done before. I’ve told you that. We ride the train to our destination, just like all the other folks that are gonna be on it. We get off, then we do our job. The train is not the job.”
“Yeh, I knows that. Just sayin’…”
Finn ignored him, and turned back to Ben. “Okay, here’s what we do. We get on the early morning train…that’s the Richmond, Fredericksburg, and Potomac Line. We ride it to Carville, which is the next town up from here. Maybe about ten miles from here. We go over the Catskill-Carville Bridge which is a mile or so before Carville. We split up at Carville, hang around until dark, meet up and go back to the bridge. Supplies will be waiting there. We blow the bridge, head down river to the other one, and blow it, too.”
“Finn, what’s so important about this bridge?”
“Trains use this bridge to transport soldiers and supplies. After Carville, the train goes on up to a town called Halstead. All civilians get off, the train loads up with soldiers and supplies, and leaves to get back over the bridge. By then we’ve blown the bridge, so the train stays put.” Finn grinned at him. “I reckon the good General doesn’t tell you any more than what he thinks you have to know to get going. I’ve worked with him a long time, and he’s always like that.”
“The General said something about two bridges, but that’s all I know. Where’s the other one?”
“It’s below Carville. Not much of a bridge, and it’s not one for trains, but the Rebs use it sometimes, so we’ll just take care of it, too. Besides, it’s on the way back, so why not?”
Sam spoke up for the first time since Ben had arrived. “Hey, Finn, come on, man, we gonna finish our game or what? Getting’ tired just sittin’ here lookin’ at my cards. Let’s get a wiggle on, huh?”
Finn nodded. “Yeah, you’re on, man. Ben, we got a little sportin’ going on here, and for now, I’m winning. Don’t want to lose the feeling, so we’ll see you later.” The three picked up their cards, and Ben left the table in search of something to eat.
* * *
Blowing up a bridge was much easier than Ben thought it would be. Tie up several sticks of dynamite, walk down the deserted train tracks, plant the sticks, and walk back. With the four of them working, it took about a half hour. When all the dynamite had been planted, Finn lit the end of the long fuse, and the four ran back to a heavy clump of trees. In seconds, the sky lit up with long streaks of red and orange, black smoke filled the air, choking anyone or anything close enough to breathe it in, and in a thunderous crash, large pieces of the bridge broke apart, and hurtled to the water beneath.
Then, as if moving in slow motion, the remainder of the bridge began slowly breaking apart and falling, piece by piece, into the cold waters of the river. As it fell, the sound it caused seemed to be remnants of an eerie scream. Finally, there was nothing left of the bridge except for a few small sections with twisted iron rails, still glowing red from the explosive material that tore it apart.
In the meantime, the sounds of the explosions had created chaos in the houses close to the river on both sides. People came running out to see what was going on, and most of the men had their rifles in hand. When they realized the bridge had been blown to smithereens, the talk became a mish-mash of awe, fright, and expletives.
Finn spoke quietly. “Okay, time for us to hightail it out of here. The other bridge is down river about two miles, so let’s get going.”
He picked up the pack with the explosives in it, pushed his way through the thick strand of trees, and headed down the road. Joe, Sam, and Ben all followed, one at a time. As Ben left the forest, he stopped in the middle of the road and looked out over the water. The bridge was totally gone, but the smell of explosives lingered in the air, as did the sounds of small pieces of the bridge’s undercarriage still falling into the water. The sky was covered with heavy smoke, but now the colors of red, orange, and yellow rippled across the top of the river, like someone had laid a colorful blanket across the water.
A man approached him with a rifle in his hand. “Hey, did you see anything funny before the explosion?”
“No, sir, I didn’t see nothin’. I was jist walkin’down the road when all hell-like busted loose. Scart me to death, it did.” Ben altered his speech a little, hopefully to throw the man off a bit.
The man shook his head. “Never heard nothin’ like that explosion before. Sure goin’ to be lots of comin’ undone around here, with that there bridge out. Lots of commotion, too, with all them soldiers tryin’ to get ‘er fixed. Well, don’t mean to be keepin’ you from your business, so I wish you well.”
Ben thanked him, and sauntered on down the road. As soon as he was out of sight of the houses, he began running.
* * *
Finn and the others were waiting for him down the road. No one spoke and the four men continued a fast pace to the town of Carville. Although it was well after dark, the streets were humming with men and women both. The noise of the explosion had brought everyone out of their homes and businesses, and fear was evident in the bits and pieces of talk that came through to Ben and the others as they walked down the main street.
“Who woulda blowed up that bridge when it’s so important?”
“What will we do without that bridge? How we gonna get food and such?”
“Yeh, I’d better not find them scalawags, I’d shoot ‘em dead.”
Ben scrunched down in his jacket and pulled his hat a little lower. He and Finn separated from Joe and Sam, each pair walking down each side of the street. No reason to let people see them walking as a group, especially when they were not known to be townspeople. They stopped occasionally, and spoke to others lingering near the boardwalks, more to appear as concerned and surprised as everyone else, than to overhear anything they didn’t already know. Generally speaking, the townspeople were overwhelmed and angry. By the next morning, the town was not going to be a good place to be. Especially when they learned that the smaller bridge was also gone.
Ben said quietly, “Finn, what do we do after this other bridge? Spend another night in Smith’s Springs or
get the horses and get out?”
Finn walked on without answering. Finally, he said, “I’m not sure. I don’t know if it’s best to go back to the hotel, or just get the hell out of here.”
“Well, I’m paid up at the hotel, so I’m not going to take a chance on getting another room. I’ll just go to the stable, and sleep there. At daybreak, I’ll leave some money for Jonas, take Mack, and go. I’ll ride outside of town, so I won’t meet up with anyone. I hope.”
About that time, Joe and Sam joined them. They were far enough away from town now so that they could talk. Finn had given Joe what was left of the dynamite in a small satchel he carried over his shoulder, and he was complaining, as usual.
“Huh, we should jist keep on goin’. Not enough of this junk to blow up a rat’s hole, much lessen a whole dern bridge. Don’t know why we gots to do this here one, anyways. Too old to be no use to nobody.”
Finn just grinned. “Don’t worry, old man, we’ve got enough left to do the job. Let’s just get on there, do it, and keep on going before someone gets wise.”
A few minutes later, the old bridge came into view. The moon was out now, which added more danger to what they had planned. Anyone on this bridge, at this time of night, would surely be suspect. It was obvious that it was only used as a walkway to cross the river. The huge logs it was built of were dried out, cracking, and splintering. The bridge itself stood only a few feet above the river.
Ben stepped up on the bridge, which creaked with just his weight on it. As he started to walk, he realized the cracks in the logs were wide enough for the moon to shine down onto the water below.
“Whoa! Hey, Finn, how far out on this thing am I supposed to go? Some of these cracks you could drive a horse through.”
“Yeah, I know, but it could be supported by pontoons below, if the Rebels wanted to take a chance bad enough on troops and supplies going across. Just go far enough to plant the explosives, with the fuse able to come back here.”
Ben shrugged, and stepped carefully over the logs with the biggest cracks, and watched bugs of all kinds eating away at the bark that was flaking off. Slightly less then half-way across, he stopped, knelt down, and tied two bundles of dynamite to the nearest poles that served to hold the bridge up. Walking backwards and playing out the line of fuse, he stopped nearer the end and tied another bundle to the under bridge pole. He placed one more very close to the end of the bridge, and brought the fuse line to Finn.
Joe and Sam were waiting for him and Finn. By the time Finn lit the fuse, and it hit the first bundle of dynamite, the four men were far enough away to watch the fireworks without being in any danger from the explosion.
The bridge was old and rotting, and the dynamite was an overkill. Plugs and parts of the wooden bridge went flying out over the river, and drove themselves into the sandy bottom, and along the shoreline. One large piece of the bridge came tumbling end over end to the edge of the river, struck something, and flew out onto the beach, shattering into sharp pieces of wood as it hit the hard-packed sand.
By the time the dust had settled, the river was once again covered in the fire-glowing colors of red, yellow, and orange, and nothing remained of the old bridge except for the pieces that stood upright along the beach.
Joe started laughing loudly, but Sam slapped his hand across Joe’s mouth. “Shut yer trap, Joe. No need to let the world know we’re here and yer loud enough to hear three counties from here.”
“Yeah, let’s get a move on, and get back to town. Ben, you’ve got the right idea about a room. We all got one for tonight, but best you sleep in the stable instead of trying for another one. You’re learning, boy. You did a good job tonight. I reckon it be best if we drifted into town the way we came in, us three, and you by yourself. No need to raise unnecessary thoughts as to why we three became four. See you around.”
That said, Finn motioned to Sam and Joe, and the three took off into the woods along the road. Ben went down to the sandy beach, dug up some of the sharper pieces of the wood from the bridge, and threw them into the river. Don’t reckon there’s any reason for people maybe getting hurt if they don’t see these sticking out of the sand. Besides, this’ll give Finn and them to have a head start on me.
* * *
By the time Ben got back to Smith’s Spring, the town was quiet. The saloons were full of men drinking and playing cards, but nothing seemed unusual. There was no way to tell if the townspeople heard about the bridges yet, or not. Ben passed the nearest saloon and saw Finn, Joe, and Sam playing cards and drinking. He surely hoped the other two could keep Joe from opening his mouth at the wrong time.
He went down to the stable, patted Mack, and then lay down on a pile of straw. He covered up with an old horse blanket, and was asleep in seconds.
He awoke in the early dawn, cold and hungry. He stretched, got up, fed Mack and brushed him down. By the time the horse had eaten and had a long drink of water, the sun was up. Ben saddled up, left a dollar more than he owed for Jonas, and started down the street. He hadn’t gotten far when five Confederate soldiers stepped out from behind a building, all pointing pistols at him.
“Stop right there. Don’t even think of moving, or you’ll be dead right here.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Heading Back to Kentucky
The Captain who was obviously in charge of the men stepped up to Mack and grabbed the reins, yanking them out of Ben’s hands. Two other soldiers pulled him roughly out of the saddle, and tied his hands behind him.
“Wait! What’s the problem? I’m not do…” One of the soldiers clipped Ben on the side of his head with his pistol. “You speak when the Captain says to, and not before, you hear me, Yankee?”
Ben couldn’t answer, his head was bursting with pain from the blow. Blood ran down the side of his head and onto his face.
The Captain gave the soldier a disgusted look. “That was unnecessary, Timmons. We don’t beat up prisoners, understand me? Another play like that one, and you’ll be the one in the guardhouse.”
He turned to the other soldiers. “Get this man a towel or something for his head, and bring him to my quarters. Now!”
The two soldiers holding Ben spun him around quickly then pushed him forward by one of the soldiers putting his knee in Ben’s back. He stumbled, fell, and darkness overcame him.
* * *
When Ben awoke, he was totally disoriented. Where was he, where was Mack? He tried to sit up, and fell back on the hard cot he was lying on. After a few moments, he tried again, more slowly this time. His head was one huge ache, and when he put his hand up to rub it, he felt the stickiness of blood. He looked around, and saw that he was in a small room, with two other cots, not occupied, and one window with bars on it. The sun was bright overhead, telling Ben it must be close to noon if not later.
He was definitely not hungry. All he could concentrate on was the ache in his head, as what happened to him slowly came back into focus. He had not even gotten out of town before the five Confederate soldiers surrounded him. He remembered that he had not even been questioned, just yanked out of his saddle then struck in the head.
A rattle at the door startled him. It opened, and a soldier came in. “Well, I see you have finally waked up. Didn’t realize I’d struck you so hard. But that’s the price you pay for blowing up bridges.”
Ben groaned, not just from the pain in his head. “I don’t understand you, what bridges? I didn’t blow anything up, I…”
The soldier grabbed him by the arm, and pulled him roughly towards the door. “Lying to me don’t mean a thing, bucko, but you just better not lie to the Captain. Get a move on.” He pushed Ben out the door, and marched him down a hallway to an office.
The sign on the door claimed the office belonged to Captain Tremaine, but as Ben was walked through the hallway, he realized this was not some kind of Army camp, it was just an ordinary house. The soldier knocked on the door, opened it, and shoved Ben inside. He saluted, and left.
Ben waited fo
r the Captain to speak. When he did nothing but stare at him, Ben finally asked, “Sir, why am I here? I don’t understand this at all. You said something about blowing up bridges, but I know nothing of that.”
“You were seen on the lower bridge outside of Carville last night. You were the only person seen anywhere near there. The bridge blows up by itself? I think not.”
“Sir, I don’t know anyone in Carville, and have never been there in my life. I didn’t blow up any bridge.”
The Captain sneered. “That’s a very good story, but it won’t hold up. We’ve got a witness, someone you know.”
The Captain got up, walked over to a door and opened it. Sitting in a chair, tied up and with a handkerchief tied across his mouth, was Joe.
It was all Ben could do to contain his amazement. Joe had been beaten, as he was covered in bruises, scratches, and dried blood, but the smell of alcohol reached Ben even as he stood clear across the room.
“It seems your ‘friend’ here got pretty drunk last night, and started quite a ruckus in the saloon. A couple of my men were there, and it was up to them to break up the fight. By the time they got this scalawag out the door, he started pleading not to be sent to jail. He said if the men would let him go, he could tell them who blew up the bridges at Carville. I reckon you know whose name he gave us.”
Ben stood silent, in shock. Another spy turned him in? He wondered where Finn and Sam were, but it didn’t matter much, since he and Joe were the ones who had been caught. This could easily be the end of his life.
“Well? You going to just stand there? If you have something to say, you’d better say it now.”
Ben looked around the room. It probably had been a bedroom at one time, before the Rebels took over the house. It was in bad shape, with the wallpaper hanging loose in several places, and the one window had a crack running from top to bottom in it. There was no window shade or drapes to cover it. He wondered if he had a chance, if he could escape. The house certainly wasn’t any kind of fortress.