Dark Chaos (# 4 in the Bregdan Chronicles Historical Fiction Romance Series) (10 page)

             
Rose found the energy to open her eyes.  The water trickling down her throat tasted like sweet nectar.  “My son,” she whispered.  “My son...”

             
Her face beaming, Diedre stepped up next to the bed.  “Here he be, Rose.  He put up a mighty big fight so he could say hello to his mama.”

             
Rose pushed herself up against the wall and held her arms out wonderingly.  Diedre laid the tiny little bundle of life, already wrapped in clean cloths, in her arms.  She stared down at the puckered face in tender amazement.  Tears of joy streaked her cheeks.  She examined her baby carefully.  His dark skin was crowned with a halo of soft black curls.  Reaching out carefully, she ran her finger down one soft cheek.  “My son,” she whispered again.  “Hello, little John Samuels.  You’re named for my daddy, you know.”  Her voice caught in wonder.

             
Then she looked up at Diedre.  “Thank you,” she whispered.  There was so much more to say, but she knew words would never express what was in her heart. 

             
A sudden movement caused her to look back down.  She laughed as her son turned his face toward her breast and began to move his lips.  “He’s definitely his father’s boy,” she said, shifting his weight so he could eat.  Rose watched contentedly for a few minutes before a heavy weight pressed down on her whole being.  “I’m so tired...” 

             
Diedre stepped forward.  “You go ahead and sleep, girl.  June and I will be right here.  Once your son finishes his first meal we’ll get him settled.  You need rest more than you need anythin’ else.”

A
lmost asleep, Rose heard Diedre’s quiet words to June.  “We just about lost both of them.  I reckon God’s not done with either of them yet.”

CHAPTER FIVE

              Moses sank down on the ground, his fatigue and soreness pressing in from everywhere.  Leaning his head back against a tree, he gazed up at the full moon, barely visible as it fought to shine through the battle vapors infiltrating the area.  No matter where he looked, all he saw was a hazy darkness.  The order had gone out that no campfires be built.  Moses knew the Federals were not anxious to give away their position.  Jackson had won a stunning victory today, but there would always be tomorrow.  He reached into his haversack, pulled out several biscuits, and ate hungrily.

             
Moses felt, rather than saw, the form moving toward him in the darkness.   Every muscle tensed as he coiled his body in preparation for action.  He reached for his rifle silently.  Jackson had pulled one big surprise already today.  Was he springing another one? 

             
“That be you, Moses?”

             
Moses heaved a sigh of relief and settled back.  “It’s me, Pompey.  What are you sneaking around for?”

             
“I ain’t sneaking around,” Pompey protested.  “I can’t help it none that it’s so dark in these woods you can’t hardly see your hand in front of your face.  The stink of all this smoke and gunpowder be enough to suffocate a man.”

             
“Sure makes me long for open spaces,” Moses agreed, suddenly glad to have company. 

             
Pompey sank down on the ground beside him.  “I don’t reckon I’ll ever forget my first day of battle.”

             
“I’m trying to,” Moses responded grimly, still heartsick at all he had witnessed.

             
“Caesar and Jacob didn’t make it,” Pompey said sorrowfully.  “Theys some of the first done falled when we charged back into that Rebel advance.”  There was a touch of pride in his voice now.  “They died fer dere flag, sure ‘nuff.”

             
Moses remained silent.  He knew war meant killing.  He knew that every man who moved onto a battlefield was flirting with death.  In spite of the horror, he also knew the only way his people would be free was if the North won this war, but that realization didn’t make his loathing for all this death diminish.  It didn’t ease the ache he felt for the families each fallen man left behind.  His mind flew to Rose.  He hoped she would never receive news of his death on the battlefield.   He hoped he would not have a son who never got to see his father.

             
“What you figure tomorrow’s gonna be like?”  Pompey asked quietly.

             
Moses shrugged but then realized Pompey couldn’t see him.  “I don’t know.  Our side took a mighty hard hit today.  I guess General Hooker will try to hit back.”  He paused.  “I heard Captain Jones talking today.  A lot of the officers are furious with the general.  They think he’s giving this fight away.  I don’t know, though.  It was Hooker who led the charge that stopped Jackson’s attack.  I sure wouldn’t want to be the one making decisions for over 100,000 men.”

             
“It just ain’t possible to get de big pi’ture when you be the little man,” Pompey said thoughtfully.  “We just got to do what we be tole to do.  Ain’t got no idea what be goin’ on just a little ways from us.  Ain’t no way of knowin’ if we be winnin’ or losin’ this thin’.  All we get to see is what be right in front of us.”  He paused.  “That be a might scary at times.” 

             
Pompey lapsed into silence again.  Moses was content to let the murky night reflect his thoughts back to him.  His body longed for sleep, yet his mind desperately needed time to process the horrors of the day.  But he knew no amount of processing could make any sense of it.  He had watched hundreds of men and families be destroyed simply because men in power couldn’t agree and were willing to sacrifice soldiers’ lives to accomplish their means. 

             
Given the option to quit, I would choose to fight.
   Moses almost smiled at the contradiction of his own thoughts.  It was true.  He would choose to fight.  He knew the war hadn’t begun as a means to free the slaves forever, yet somehow it had evolved into that.  If the North won the war, the face of America would be changed forever -
his
life would be changed forever. 

             
“Why you don’t talk like de rest of us?”  Pompey asked suddenly.  “Not dat it bother me none,” he insisted.  “I know you be a good man.”  He hesitated.  “Some of the men be talkin’ though.”

             
“Rose taught me how to talk,” he mused half to himself.  Just saying her name made the ache more present.  Shaking off the memories, he strove to answer Pompey’s question.  Most of the men knew his story, but there were fresh recruits whose loyalty could be diminished if they doubted his ability to understand them.   Pompey was one of them.   “Just a couple of years ago, I was a slave.  I’d never had any education.”

             
“Dat right?”  Pompey said suspiciously.

             
“My daddy was killed by a mob when he tried to run away,” Moses said quietly, knowing his story would quiet the older man’s fears.  “My whole family was beaten.  I was just a little boy.  I figured I would always be a slave.”  He paused, remembering.  “A couple of years ago I was sold to a man outside Richmond.  One of his slaves had a secret school out in the woods.  She taught me how to read and write.  She also taught me how to speak correctly.”

             
“What difference it make how ya talk?”  Pompey protested.

             
“It doesn’t make any difference to me,” Moses said instantly.  “But it’s going to make a difference when we’re free and we’re trying to make it in a white world.  People will still see me as a black man, but having education will make it a little easier.”

             
“What  happened to dat girl who done learned you?   Slave owners don’t like dat stuff none too good.”

             
“I married her,” Moses said, grinning.  “Then we escaped and headed north to Philadelphia.”

             
“Do tell,” Pompey whistled in admiration.

             
Moses knew Pompey was solidly on his side now.  He also knew he would spread the news around the cook fires.  “Rose is teaching in the contraband camp outside of Norfolk.”  He sucked in his breath at the longing surging through him.  “She’s going to have our baby any day now,” he said pensively.  “Might have already had it.”  

             
“I got me four little ones back home,” Pompey said proudly.  “We done took off when some Union troops got near us ‘bout a year back.  They be stayin’ with some kin folk in Ohio.  Sure nuff be glad when dis be over and I cans get back.”

             
Moses agreed with him wholeheartedly.  He tensed as a sudden rustle in the woods startled him.  He could feel Pompey tighten beside him.  He relaxed again as one of his men loomed close enough to identify. 

             
“The captain be calling us together,” the messenger reported.  “Said we ain’t done for the day yet.”

             
“What we gonna be doin’ in pitch dark?”  Pompey exclaimed.

             
“I imagine we’ll find out in a few minutes.” Ignoring the fatigue, Moses heaved his body up from the ground. 

             
The dim light of a single lantern was all that identified the clearing Captain Jones was assembling his men in.  Moses stepped up to the back of the group and waited expectantly.  He didn’t have long to wait. 

             
Captain Jones cleared his throat.  “The general has ordered a night attack.  You’re going to spread out.  Our orders are to charge through the woods with our bayonets and strike down the enemy where we find him.  We’re to march forward until we join up with our other divisions on the turnpike.”   Sharpness and compassion merged in his voice.

             
Moses listened grimly, envisioning the chaos that would reign in these woods where there was no light to reveal their path or their targets.  His heart pounded but determination steeled his nerves. 

             
Captain Jones turned to him.  “Moses, I want you to take your men with the first line.  Make sure your guns are loaded.”  His voice sharpened.  “There is to be no reloading after the first firing.  Our orders are to take the area by bayonet.  Indiscriminate firing in the darkness could end up killing more of our own men than the Rebels.”

             
“Yes, sir!”  Moses responded promptly. 

             
It took only a few minutes for all his men to assemble.   “Form a straight line,” Moses ordered quietly.  “Make sure your guns are loaded but do not reload.”  He paused.  “Keep moving forward,” he finished grimly. 

             
The orders were passed down the line in hushed voices.   Secrecy was paramount in this lunatic plan.

             
Moses shivered as the darkness pressed in around him.  The hush was so complete he had to convince himself he was not alone; that there were really thousands of men forming a battle line.  Every muscle in his body drew taut as he awaited the signal. 

             
“Forward.”  The hushed voice sounded loud.

             
Moses shouldered his gun and stepped out purposefully.  Now that the time was here he was calm, his eyes searching the murky night before him.  Within minutes, he left the sheltering protection of the woods behind.  Nearly two hundred yards of open space stretched before him. 

             
“God help us,” floated to him in a hushed whisper.

             
Moses mouthed a silent
Amen
and pressed forward.  He sensed prayers going up all around him as the shadow of the woods loomed closer.  He could barely discern the outline of the entrenchments.  His breath quickened as he waited for the first flash of musketry fire from the watching Confederates.  They were letting them draw near to be more certain of their aim.  At twenty paces his troops would fire their volley.  Moses tightened his hold on his gun.  Many of his men would fall under the barrage of fire, but some of them would get through.  He could only hope it would be enough of them.

             
The anticipated volley of fire never came.  The entrenchments rose before him but then disappeared. 

             
“Moses?” came a tentative whisper.

             
“Forward,” spoke Moses in firm response as he surged into the thicket and tried to ignore the thorny bushes grasping for him.  The Rebels may have chosen not to occupy the fringe of the woods, but they were ahead somewhere. 

             
“Halt!  Who go’s there?” 

              “Forward!”  Moses yelled as a Rebel sentry sounded the call.  Raising his rifle, Moses aimed in the direction of the challenge and fired.  Musketry exploded all around him as men yelled, shouted hurrah, and surged forward.