On to Richmond (77 page)

             
Moses, riding quietly behind them, smiled as they reached the conclusion he had known they would reach.  Only people very familiar with the area would have any idea where they were going. It had not taken him long to catch up with them once he had disposed of Adams.  He had been following them, several hundred feet back, for the last two miles. 

             
“Hey, Captain.  Where’s Moses?”  Joe yelled.

             
The smile faded from his face.  He had known they would miss him sometime.  He pulled his horse to a halt, dismounted quickly, and led his horse into the bush.  The noise of the men would cover any sound he made. 

             
“Yeah.  Where’s Moses?”

             
In the brief silence, Moses could imagine them all craning their necks to peer around.

             
“I don’t remember seeing him since we left that little store,” a soldier named Albert said in a bewildered tone.

             
Moses listened carefully.  Most of the men riding with Captain Jones had given him no trouble.  They had actually seemed grateful for his knowledge of the area and the ease with which he took them from place to place.  He was the only one who knew he had steered them a wide berth around Cromwell Plantation.

             
A rough voice floated back to him.  “I told you we couldn’t trust that nigger!”

             
Moses frowned.  It was Clyde, one of the soldiers who had almost accosted him on the boat.  The burly, rough soldier seemed to have no recollection of his actions that night, had even pleaded drunken innocence when other soldiers told him, but Moses had known all along what his real feelings were.  He had very deliberately given him a wide berth.  Now Clyde’s voice shot back to him.

             
“I bet that nigger is up to no good!  I say we send someone back to find out what he’s up to.”

             
Joe laughed.  “You want to volunteer, Clyde?  I’d bet you would never even find that store.  You’d probably walk right into a batch of Rebel soldiers.  Isn’t anybody going to find anything in this fog?  It’s as thick as pea soup.  I don’t think any of us have to worry about Moses - except to wonder if something happened to him.”  His voice thickened with worry.  “Maybe that Adams fellow had some backup we never knew about.  Something tells me that man wouldn’t be too fond of our friend, Moses.”

             
Captain Jones spoke then.  “You’re right, Joe.  Moses can be trusted.  Something must have happened.”  Suddenly his voice sharpened.  “Why didn’t someone tell me before that he is missing?”

             
A chorus of protests rose immediately.  Joe’s was the only voice that floated to Moses clearly.  “Finding Adams caught us all off guard, Captain.  When you took off, we weren’t really thinking.  We just followed you.  We all assumed we were all here.”

             
Moses smiled in the darkness.  It was always helpful to listen to people talk about you when they didn’t know you were around.  Sometimes it was the only way to know what folks were really thinking.  It felt good to know Captain Jones trusted him. Of course, he wouldn’t trust him for long if he knew what he was up to.   His smile disappeared.

             
Captain Jones spoke again.  “There’s nothing we can do now.  Joe is right.  No one could find their way through this fog.  We can’t do anything about any of this until we can see.  We leave here at the crack of dawn.  Cromwell Plantation is our top priority.  Then we’ll find out what happened to Moses.”  He paused.  “He’ll probably show up any time now, anyway.  He knows this area like the back of his hand.”

             
“Yeah,” Clyde laughed.  “I don’t know why any of you are worried about that nigger.  He’s probably gone hunting for a woman to love.”

             
Moses face flushed with anger as he remembered Clyde’s exuberant response to Adams’ suggestion about Carrie.  His fist clenched as he thought about Carrie under control of the ignorant man.  He was dedicated to the cause of the Union, but his dedication and loyalty to Carrie came first.  He would do anything to keep her from harm.  Even kill a Union soldier if it was necessary.  If his plan worked, though, he wouldn’t have to.

             
Moses thought carefully as he blocked out the rest of the conversation floating down toward him.  He was going to have to leave his horse behind.  It would be hard enough to make his way through the woods on foot.  His horse would never make it past the soldiers.  They would take pot shots at any strange noise they heard in the woods, shooting first and asking questions later. 

             
Moses led his horse a little farther back in the woods and moved as quietly as possible.   Finally he was convinced his mare would not be seen by the men the next morning.  He quickly removed the saddle and bridle then tied the mare loosely to a branch.  He knew the rope would work itself free but hopefully not till dawn.  He planned on being back before that happened, but if he wasn’t she wouldn’t be left to starve or die from thirst.  He tested the rope one more time then turned and slipped into the fog.

             
All Moses knew to do was head southwest toward the river.  He knew there was no trail in this area.  He would have to bushwhack through the dark, fog-shrouded woods. The going would be slow but surely he could make it before dawn.  If he was calculating right, his southwesterly course should deposit him on the road that led to the Cromwell entrance road.  It would be an easy run from there to the main house.  He would alert Carrie to the danger and help her avoid the patrol.  She should have enough time to make it to Richmond.  He would accompany her as far as possible. 

             
Four hours later, Moses was still pushing his way through the woods.  Frustration was close to choking him.  Spring storms had brought down many large trees.  The fog made it impossible to tell what direction he was headed once he had gone around them.  He lost track of the number of times he had stumbled and fallen.  Once his head had struck a rock, and he had lain there dazed for long minutes.  Finally he had pushed himself to his feet and kept going.  He had to reach Carrie in time. 

             
He pushed aside a huge clump of bushes now and stumbled out onto a road.  Anxiously he looked around.  Where was he?  The curves in the road before and behind him looked like any of a million on a road like this.  Moses ground his teeth in frustration.  Suddenly he realized the heaviness of the night air was pushing the fog down, compressing it closer to the ground.  He looked up and gasped.  He could almost make out specks in the sky.  He dashed over to a huge oak and swung onto the lowest limb.   Climbing nimbly, he was soon high enough to break out from the fog.  A quick glance gave him a bearing on the North Star.  He breathed a prayer of thanks and swung down.  At least he knew what direction to go.

             
He jumped down on the road and began to run.  He had wasted valuable time in the woods.   And if the fog was compressing, Captain Jones may choose to press on before dawn.  Moses knew how anxious the captain was to find food and report back. 

             
Moses gasped when he rounded a curve and saw an abandoned little cabin on the left of the road.  He was barely a mile from where Captain Jones and his men were camped.  His four hours of wandering in the woods had taken him largely in circles.  Moses gritted his teeth and lengthened his stride.  He could still make it. 

             
Moses was gasping for breath when he finally came to the brick pillars that marked the entrance to Cromwell Plantation.    He realized his floundering in the woods necessitated a change in plans.  He might possibly reach Carrie before the soldiers did, but how was she going to slip past them?  He glanced at the horizon and groaned when he saw the first glimmer of light reaching out for him.  The fog was now lying close to the ground, a thick cover that would allow men on horseback to ride unhindered.  For all he knew, his comrades were right behind him. 

             
A sudden yell from far down the road confirmed his worst fears.   He never even hesitated as he dashed past the pillars and continued down the road away from the plantation.  He would have to go in the back way.  He knew his way through the woods leading to the quarters like the back of his hand. Thank goodness it was a shorter distance than the drive.  But once he broke out into the quarters would he be able to find the quickest way to the river?  It was Carrie’s only hope now. 

As he ran, he searched for that familiar spot in the road that would lead into the woods.  When he found it, he turned into the trees and continued to run down the trail unwinding before him.  His lungs burned as he gasped for air, but he didn’t slow down.  The vision of Carrie’s face kept him going.  Rose’s face appeared before him as well. 

             
Save her, Moses!  Save her!

             
Moses ran faster.  He barely even turned his head as he flashed past the clearing where Rose had taught her little school, but the spirits of those who had defied the shackles on their souls, leapt up to encourage him on.  Their courage gave him the strength to continue. 

             
The first of the quarters’ cabins appeared to him through a crack in the woods.  Praying no one was awake and aware of what was going on, Moses flashed into the clearing, raced along the edge of the woods, and in just moments disappeared again down a narrow trail leading to the river

             
Could he find it?  Was he crazy to think he could actually find something he had never laid eyes on?  What if it wasn’t even there?  Moses ran on.  All he could do was try. Visions of soldiers tramping up on Carrie’s porch - of Clyde demanding his entertainment – drove him on. 

             
Finally he broke out onto the river trail.  He struggled to remember everything he had heard Marse Cromwell say that day.  His run slowed to a deliberate walk, his sides heaving heavily as he peered into the bank.  Would he be able to find it?

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

              Carrie sat by her window and stared out into the early morning darkness.  She hadn’t slept a wink all night.  Tossing and turning in her bed had only exhausted her more and had creased deep wrinkles in the dress she had decided not to bother taking off.  Finally she had given up the effort and risen to sit by the window.  She watched as the thick fog settled down to hug the earth.  Now she alternated between staring at the myriad of twinkling stars above her and the dark border of trees facing her.  She was watching the stars for courage and strength.  Watching the woods was necessary if she wanted to stay ahead of the enemy. 

             
Her heart had grown heavy with grief during the long night.  She grieved the necessity to flee her home, yet it was much more than that.  The knowledge that hurt the worst was the stark realization of what her country had come to - Americans forced to flee those they had once stood side by side with.  The dark clouds that had settled over men in power now engulfed the entire country.  Very few were able to see beyond their passions.  To feel beyond their hatred or anger.  To think beyond what was important to them.  The clouds of passion had closed off men to themselves.  They had shrouded the best of men’s heart from even themselves. 

             
Carrie, during the long reaches of the night, clearly realized it might soon be over.  If the Union army truly was advancing on Richmond, the glorious Confederacy might be breathing its last breath.  A country split apart by Civil War might be reunited.  Yet only in a physical sense.  Carrie knew that even if the South acquiesced to defeat by a more powerful military force, the passions that had ignited this war would continue.  What would happen with the fury that was raging unchecked?  It could not just be put in a bottle and corked.  It could not be legislated away.  It could not be swept under a rug. 

             
Carrie sighed deeply and stood to take a final look around her room.  The sun would be coming up soon.  She had promised Sam she would leave then.  The glow of the moon dipping low on the horizon was all that illuminated her room.  It was enough:  Her dear bed, a gift from her loving father; the dresser with her mother’s silver brush set arranged perfectly; the bookcase that held her medical books; the vanity whose drawers held the letters from Aunt Abby. 

             
Carrie frowned.  There had been so much she wanted to take with her.  In the end she had chosen to leave it all behind.  She had hidden some of her father’s valuable papers, but that was all.  It seemed disloyal to all that held her heart to choose which was most precious.  None of it would ever be able to be replaced if it was lost.  Its physical counterpart might be found, but the memories that made it special would no longer be there.  Yet it was more than even that.  To take things with her meant she was leaving with the idea she might not be able to return.  She was simply unwilling to acknowledge that.  To do so would be to give up hope.