Dark Chaos (# 4 in the Bregdan Chronicles Historical Fiction Romance Series) (43 page)

             
Rose bit her lip.  She knew every male contraband was working for the Federal government.  Those who got paid were paid well below what the white soldiers received.  “They were taken away to be sold on the auction block up North,” she said coldly.  “They came here to escape slavery.”

             
“I guess some folks just can’t escape who they are,” Manning said sarcastically.  His eyes glittered angrily.  “How’d you find out about those boys?” he demanded suddenly.

             
“I just heard talk,” Rose said evasively, envisioning the fear shining in June’s eyes earlier that morning.  Manning gripped her arm tighter.   Rose bit her lip to keep from crying out and stared at him defiantly.  She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how scared she was.  She began to pray silently.

             
“I want to know where you heard the talk.”

             
Rose just shrugged.  “I really can’t remember,” then she cried out as his fingers dug even deeper into her tender flesh.  She struggled to wrench free.  The man who had stopped her stepped up and grabbed her other arm.

             
Manning thrust his face up to hers, his hot breath fanning her face.  “I would encourage you to remember.”  He paused.  “If you want to go home, that is.”

             
Rose thought of John waiting at home for his evening feeding.  Then she thought of June.  She would never betray her friend.  She shook her head silently. 

             
Another crack of lightening ripped through the air, ominous thunder following close on its heels.  Yellowish clouds swirled in a violent dance above their heads.  A vicious wind kicked up, tossing the limbs above their heads as if they were mere twigs.

             
Rose continued to stare at Manning defiantly.  Somehow she knew if she gave into her fear and looked away, he would have won.  He would have control.  The silent battle continued as the storm raged over their heads.

             
“You ain’t gonna get her to talk,” the other man said suddenly.  “This storm is gonna be a big one.  We need to get out of here.”

             
“She’ll talk,” Manning snarled, reaching up suddenly to touch her face.  “She’ll talk - or at least she’ll give us some entertainment.” 

             
Rose stiffened but continued to stare at him.  She refused to let him see her fear. 
God, please help me!
she cried silently.

             
“Are you crazy?” the other man exclaimed.  “General Butler will find out and then our gooses will be cooked for sure.  It’s bad enough we might get caught for sending them men north!”

             
“Will you shut up!”  Manning shouted, releasing Rose’s arm as he spun to yell at the other man. 

             
Rose resisted the temptation to run, knowing it would only infuriate him more.  She didn’t have a chance of outrunning him in her long skirts, anyway.  She longed for Moses to come to her rescue but knew it was impossible.  He was miles away on the battlefield.  Her mind raced to figure out some way to reason with the man then abandoned the idea.  There was no reasoning with someone like him.

             
The first fat drops of rain began to fall, and lightning continued to strike overhead. 

             
Manning turned back to her suddenly.  “Get out of here!” he demanded furiously.  “You’re going to be lucky this time.  But don’t think it will last.  I hear about you skunking on me and my friends again, and you can kiss your life goodbye.” He paused, staring hard.  “There’s all kinds of ways to get rid of women like you.  No one would ever know who did it.  If you’ve got a husband and kids, you better think about it.”

             
Rose kept her face impassive.  She would reveal nothing to give him further ammunition.    Just then the sky opened up; a torrential rain obliterated the nearby buildings from sight.

             
Manning laughed and shoved her toward the camp.  “Get out of here, nigger.  And I don’t want to see you again.”

             
Rose stumbled and fell, the dust clinging to her wet dress.  Springing to her feet, she glanced around.  The two men had already disappeared.  She took a deep breath and began to walk slowly toward home.  It would do no good to run.  She was already soaked through, and she needed time to pull herself together before she reached the cabin.  She already knew she wouldn’t tell June about her encounter.  It would only terrorize her more. 

             
Now that Manning had disappeared, Rose let herself feel the full extent of her anger..  She was angry that attempts to help her people resulted in situations like this.  Angry there were so many bitter people full of hatred.  Angry that men like Manning could make her people afraid of Northerners when there were just as many Northerners eager and willing to help them. 

             
I won’t stop
, she vowed. 
I won’t stop trying to change things.

Matthew paced restlessly.  His opportunity had come.  If all went well
, he would be free of Libby Prison in just a few hours.  His mind raced as he went over the plan he had so carefully calculated.  It was certainly not foolproof, but it was the only real chance that had come his way so far.  He was determined to take it.

             
“We’re ready for the meeting, Matthew,” Captain Anderson called.

             
Matthew nodded and moved in the direction of the crates that had been circled up in the far corner.  He was one of the few who knew this meeting of the Libby Prison Association had not been called for the regular reason of discussing light topics or reading from books.  The agenda today was much more serious.  He felt sorry for the men who were to be singled out although he knew they deserved it. 

             
Captain Anderson cleared his throat as soon as the circle was full. “I hereby call this meeting to order,” he said sternly. 

             
Matthew watched as the men surrounding him tensed and leaned forward.  It was obvious from Anderson’s voice that something unexpected was about to happen. 

             
“Would Colonel Tibbens and Lieutenant Flannagan step forward?” Anderson asked. 

             
Only Tibbens stood.  Flannagan stayed seated on his crate, his head between his hands.  Tibbens stared at the other man, but neither one said a word. 

             
Anderson’s voice, when he finally spoke, was sharp.  “It has come to the association’s attention that the two of you signed a statement saying the prisoners have been receiving adequate food and clothing from the Rebels.  Is that true?”

             
Tibbens stared at the floor and avoided the eyes of his fellow prisoners.  “Yes, I signed a statement to that effect.  I felt it was correct.”

             
“Traitor!” one of the men yelled.

             
Matthew watched silently.  He had taken up his belt two notches since arriving at Libby Prison.  He well understood the man’s anger. 

             
“I’m not a traitor!” Tibbens yelled back.

             
“Look at you,” one of the other men yelled.  “You’ve lost forty pounds since you got here.”  The anger in his voice faded away as he shook his head.  “How are we ever going to make a difference here if our own members aid the enemy?”

             
Angry muttering echoed his sentiments. 

             
Anderson gaveled the meeting back to order. “We have written a resolution condemning Tibbens and Flannagan’s statements.  We have made it clear their statements are a gross misrepresentation of facts and their  inferences unqualifiedly false,” he said sternly.  He fixed the two offending officers with a glare.  “If we could rid ourselves of your presence, we would do so most gladly.  However, we’re stuck with you.  I’m afraid you won’t find the rest of your stay here very pleasant.” His voice was flat and hard.

             
“Traitors,” several of the men muttered again, their faces hard, their eyes glowing.

             
Matthew continued to watch.  His yearning to escape had increased dramatically since the overcrowding had worsened after the fighting at Chickamauga.  Tension and hopelessness had increased in the prison when Jefferson Davis had abruptly terminated prisoner exchanges.  There was one final exchange happening today.  A group of army surgeons were being released to help the Confederacy’s critical need for their own medical personnel. 

             
“You have a copy of our resolution, don’t you?”  Anderson asked.

             
“I do,” Matthew agreed.  “I will make certain the Northern public becomes aware of the true situation here in the prison.  Now that exchanges have stopped I feel certain something will be done.  I don’t believe Lincoln will let things continue as they are.”

             
“He’d better not,” one officer muttered.  “I don’t know how much longer I can take this.”  He looked at Matthew.  “Lucky devil.”

             
Matthew didn’t deny the man’s statement.  He was considering himself very lucky right now.  It gnawed at him that it had taken another man’s death to open the door of opportunity for him, but he was still eager to grasp it. 

             
“This meeting is over,” Anderson announced.  Then he looked at Matthew.  “Let’s get you ready.”

             
Two nights ago Dr. Kenneth White had passed away taken by the typhoid he had contracted treating men on the battlefield.   The planned prisoner exchange was known.  Anderson had ordered the doctor’s body to be hidden, and another man had answered for him at roll call.  So far they had been lucky.  The guards were oblivious.

             
Matthew moved to a chair in the far corner for the transformation.  He winced as the men came at him with dull razors and penknives, but he endured it stoically. 

             
“Your own mama won’t know you when we’re done with you,” Anderson laughed.

             
An hour later, the men held up a piece of tin for Matthew to see himself.  His mustache had been shaved off, and they had trimmed his beard close to his face.  His shoulder length red hair had been lopped off to just above his neck. 
What used to be red hair
, Matthew corrected himself.   He stared at himself in amazement.  One of the men had gathered soot and charcoal from the cook fires and saved it.  Working carefully, they had changed him from a redhead into a brunette.   From a distance he resembled the tall, lanky doctor who now lay covered by boards in the back of the room.

             
“I always wondered what I would look like with black hair,” Matthew muttered.  Even his eyebrows had been darkened.  From a distance, Matthew was sure no one would recognize him.  He grinned then sobered.  If his escape attempt worked, he knew the officers he was leaving behind were counting on him.  They had chosen him to take the doctor’s place because of his position as a journalist.  They held onto the hope that public opinion could change their situation.  He prayed he wouldn’t let them down.    He turned to tell them thank you again.

             
“Dr. Kenneth White.  Dr. Marvin Gallagher.  Dr. Stephen Lawing.”

             
Matthew jumped as the roll call for the prison exchange began.  They had completed the transformation just in time.

             
Anderson grabbed a slouch hat and crammed it on top of his head.  “Have a good trip, Doctor,” he said grimly.

             
Matthew exchanged a long look with him then took his place in the line of waiting doctors.  His heart pounded as he waited, suppressing a shudder at the knowledge of how he would be treated if he were discovered. 

             
“Let’s go, men,” the guard called loudly.

             
Matthew took a deep breath and walked out of the room.  He tensed as he passed Nichols, the prison policeman, but he did little more than glance up at them.  Matthew sighed with relief as they cleared the prison door and stepped out into the warm sunshine.  He lifted his face for just a moment to feel the rays warm his white cheeks; but then he glanced back down quickly.  He was still not out of danger.