Dark Chaos (# 4 in the Bregdan Chronicles Historical Fiction Romance Series) (49 page)

             
Suzanne hesitated then glanced north.  She set her lips and nodded curtly.  “Yes!”

             
“Lower us away, boys,” Robert called cheerfully.  “We’ll see you on shore later.”

             
“Dinner’s on me, tonight,” Bueller yelled back.  “If you make it.”

             
“We’ll make it!”  Suzanne yelled defiantly. 

             
Robert jumped to the oars then waved for Suzanne to take her place.  Hunkering down low, she grabbed the sides of the boat and steadied herself.  The boat was swinging wildly before it even hit the water because the wind continued to gust from the north.  Just as Bueller had instructed, Robert began rowing before the boat touched the churning sea. 

             
He gasped when the full force of the ocean struck the little boat.  Throwing all of his strength into the oars, Robert somehow managed to pull the wooden boat away from the sides of the
Phantom
.  He knew one solid hit would decimate the tiny craft.  Sweat poured from his face as he grappled to keep on course for shore. 

             
“Keep the bow pointed into the waves,” he gasped, trying to remember all his instructions.  His few times rowing on the calm James River had done nothing to prepare him for the battle he faced now.   He glanced up for just a second and saw Suzanne huddled in the center of the boat, her face white and strained.  Somehow it helped to know she was terrified.  He knew he was. 

             
Suddenly an incoming wave picked up the boat as if it was nothing more than a toy and spun it around ferociously.  Robert cursed and fought to bring it back around.  Another wave surged under them, and he felt the boat begin to tip.  “No!” he shouted into the wind and pounding surf.  He launched all of his weight into the oars until the boat finally began to turn back into the waves. 

             
Just then there was a slight let up in the wind.  Robert gasped as his muscles screamed and burned with pain.  A quick look told him they were still at least a hundred yards from shore.  In this maelstrom it looked as if it were a hundred miles.  He didn’t know whether his strength would hold up.  It was taking all he had just to hold the boat on course.

             
“We have to make it!”  Suzanne screamed above the noise.  “Davis has to have what’s in this bag.”

             
“And I want to see my wife again!”  Robert shouted back, suddenly furious he had let Suzanne talk him into something so foolish.   “If the boat goes down, we’ll have to swim for it!”

             
“I have gold in this bag,” Suzanne hollered.  “I won’t make it.”

             
Robert stared at her in astonishment for a brief moment.
Gold!
  He shook his head grimly.  If the boat capsized, she was doomed.  He would never be able to haul all that weight.  Suddenly the wind kicked back up, and the waves surged even higher.  Mountains of green-black water rose around them threateningly.

             
Robert threw his weight back into the oars.  For a wonderful moment, the little boat surged through the waves, headed straight for shore.  Then, with no warning, a violent blast of wind caught them on the crest of a wave.  The boat shuddered, hesitated, and then swung broadside to the waves.  Robert grunted as he hauled at the oars, but the boat was now moving at the mercy of the seas.

             
“God, help us!” He heard Suzanne scream as they careened down the side of the towering wave.

             
Robert looked up and saw the wall of water descending on them just before the little boat flipped, throwing him into the water like a ragdoll.  The impact of the cold water left him breathless.  Then he began clawing for the surface.  He broke free, gasping and choking, and frantically he searched for Suzanne.  “Suzanne!” he screamed. 

             
Nothing but rolling, churning water met his searching eyes.  Suddenly another wave picked him up and sucked him back under.  His lungs were burning when he finally clawed his way to the surface.   He knew he was weakening fast.  If he didn’t get to shore soon, the ocean would win.  Once more he fought the seas while pushing himself up as high as he could go, searching for any sign of Suzanne.  He already knew what he would find.  She had never stood a chance with all the weight she was carrying.  She had probably gone directly to the bottom. 

             
Tears mingled with salt water as Robert turned toward shore and began to fight for his life.  He lost count of the times the waves picked him up, churned him along the bottom, then spat him back out.  He was about to give up and let the sea claim another prize when he felt solid ground. 

             
Staggering to his feet and gasping and choking, he stumbled onto the wet sand and collapsed.  The waves pounded just inches from his feet, but he was too exhausted to care.  Robert had nothing left to fight with. 

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

             
Carrie stayed seated in the wagon and stared at the Union soldier coldly.  “On what basis are you detaining me?”

             
The Union soldier hooted with laughter; then he advanced toward her.  “Allow me to introduce myself, ma’am.  My name is Captain Pemberton.”  He smiled.  “In case you can’t see well enough in the dark, I am a Union soldier.  From the sound of your accent, there is no doubt you are a Rebel.  That makes us enemies,” he said patiently, as if he were explaining things to a child. 

             
“I am not an imbecile, Captain Pemberton,” Carrie snapped.  “You still have not explained why you have detained me.  Or has the Union army sunken so low that you have nothing better to do than stop defenseless women in the middle of the night?”  Carrie swallowed to control the tremor in her voice.  She knew she was playing a dangerous game.  She was also determined to let Sam and Opal have all the time they needed. 

             
“Riding around with an armed guard hardly makes you a defenseless woman,” the captain said, amusement tingeing his voice.  “Are all the Rebel women as spirited as you are, Miss Cromwell?”

             
Carrie gasped.  How did he know who she was?

             
“Ah, so I was right,” Pemberton said triumphantly.  “I was merely taking a wild guess.  My reports simply say this plantation is owned by the Cromwell family.  Beyond that, we know little.”

             
Carrie breathed a sigh of relief.  They didn’t know her father worked with the government.  Whatever their plans were for her, it was best they not have that tidbit of information.   They also didn’t know she was married.  Somehow she knew it wouldn’t help them any if they were to know her husband was a Confederate captain.  She prayed Hobbs would stay quiet. 

             
“We do know that no one but slaves have been on this plantation for months.  Why have you come home, Miss Cromwell?”  Pemberton asked smoothly. 

             
“To visit,” Carrie said calmly.  “I’ve already told you that.”

             
“Yeah.  And I’m Abraham Lincoln,” Pemberton said coldly.  “Miss Cromwell, I’m afraid I’m losing my patience.   In spite of your low opinion of me, I don’t enjoy accosting women in the middle of the night.  I’m simply doing my job, and you’re making it difficult.”

             
One of his men edged forward toward the wagon.  “Hey, Captain.  They’ve got this wagon loaded with something.  Looks like it’s completely full.”

             
Pemberton trotted forward, stared at Carrie, and then tilted his head.  “Care to tell me what you’re transporting, Miss Cromwell?”

             
Carrie bit her lip.  There was nothing to stop the soldiers from discovering for themselves what was in the crates.  “Herbs,” she said simply.

             
“Herbs?”  Pemberton echoed.  “You’re roaming around in the middle of the night with a wagonload of herbs?”  His voice sharpened.  “You must take me for a fool.”  He turned to his men.  “Break open one of those crates.”

             
“Please be careful with them,” Carrie pleaded.   “Those herbs are very important.”

             
Minutes passed while the man who had spotted the crates pried the lids off one of them.   He held up a bottle in the darkness.  “There’s not anything but a bunch of bottles, Captain.  It’s too dark to see what’s in them.”             

             
“Bring a lantern up here,” Pemberton ordered.  Moments later a match flared; then the steady light of a lantern illuminated the road. 

             
Carrie took a close look at her captor.  She was surprised.  His deep voice indicated a much larger man, but the man sitting erect in his saddle was scarcely taller than she.  He didn’t look to be much older, either.  Dark brown hair topped a rough cut face.  His face was firm, but his eyes weren’t unkind. 

             
Pemberton reached for the bottle and held it up to the light.  “What in the ...?”

             
“They are herbs, Captain,” Carrie said crisply.  “I wasn’t lying to you.  Every crate contains the same thing.”

             
“Why?”

             
Carrie decided to be honest.  The captain’s question seemed to be one of genuine interest.  She could admit it must look suspicious for a woman to be traveling at night with such a strange load.  “They are medicine, Captain.  At least they will be when I have a little more time to make my mixtures and potions.”

             
“Sounds like a witch doctor, Captain,” one of the men called nastily.

             
Carrie felt her temper rising.  “Your blockade has made getting medicine almost impossible,” she said sharply.  “We have learned how to improvise.”

             
“Hey, Captain, you ain’t gonna let this stuff get through to them lousy Rebel soldiers are you?”

             
Carrie felt Hobbs stiffen beside her.  She wanted to warn him to stay calm.  All she could do was reach over and touch his leg. 

             
“This medicine isn’t for soldiers,” Carrie said honestly.   “They are being taken to the hospital for black people in Richmond.”

             
Captain Pemberton stared at her.  “You really expect me to believe that?” he scoffed.  “What do you take me for?  I know better than to think you Rebels care enough about black people to do that.”

             
“I’m afraid there’s a lot you don’t know,” Carrie said coldly.  “Not all people are the same.”  She glanced around.  “Now.  I have shown you what I’m carrying.  I’d like to be on my way,” she said boldly. 

             
“She’s gonna take these things to them soldiers,” another of Pemberton’s men called.  “Besides, we can’t let things go into Richmond.”

             
Pemberton nodded calmly.  “My man is right, Miss Cromwell.  Please step down from the wagon.  I’m afraid this is now Union property.”

             
“You bunch of dirty Yankees!”  Hobbs suddenly cried.  “You’re messing with the wrong woman.  Her father is important in the government.”

             
Carrie groaned silently as the sardonic look in Pemberton’s eyes changed to one of cold rage.

             
“You would have done better to keep your driver quiet, Miss Cromwell,” he said grimly.  “You really should have more control of him.”   Pemberton turned to Hobbs.  “Get down out of that wagon.”

             
In response, Hobbs grabbed the reins and lashed at the horses furiously.  “Get on!” he cried.  The horses, startled, surged forward but got less than a dozen feet before they plunged to a halt, surrounded by Union cavalrymen.  Hobbs cursed, reached back quickly, and pulled the rifle up, firing before it was even aimed.  The shot careened harmlessly into the dusty road.

             
The butt of a rifle appeared from the dark, smashing into Hobbs’ head with a sick clunking sound.  Hobbs stiffened then slumped against Carrie. 

             
“Tie him up,” Pemberton ordered. “Then throw him into the back of the wagon on top of the crates.  We’ll take care of him later.”  Then he turned to Carrie and regarded her thoughtfully.  “And just who is your father, Miss Cromwell?”

             
Carrie stared at him defiantly. 

             
One of the men edged forward.  “I bet I could convince her to talk,” he laughed, pulling a whip from the back of his saddle.  “Why don’t you give me a go at her, Captain?”

             
“Quit showing your ignorance, Walker,” Pemberton snapped.  “Put that thing away.”

             
Sullenly, Walker backed away and recoiled his whip.  “Her driver tried to kill one of us,” he muttered.