Dark Chaos (# 4 in the Bregdan Chronicles Historical Fiction Romance Series) (58 page)

             
Sam’s eyes fluttered open.  “You sure be a big man, Moses,” he whispered hoarsely.

             
“What?”  Moses asked, confused, but overjoyed to know Sam wasn’t dead. 

             
“That man’s bullet knock me down sure enough, but I’s ready to get back up.  At least until you jump on top of me.”  Sam forced a grin.  “You get him?” he asked weakly.

             
“I got him,” Moses said grimly, suddenly aware he had killed one of his own men.

             
Pompey interpreted the look on his face.  “You couldn’t done anything else,” he assured him instantly.  “That Saul be a bad one.”

             
“Saul?”  Sam asked, gasping in sudden pain when he moved.

             
“Sam!”  Moses exclaimed.  “Where did he get you?” 

             
“Just in the arm,” Sam scoffed.  “It just knock me off balance.  That why I fell.” 

             
Opal stepped out onto the porch then.  “I’ll take care of him,” she said calmly.  “I ain’t Miss Carrie, that for sure, but I reckon I done watched her enough when she was here to know how to take this bullet out.”  She pulled back Sam’s sleeve.  “Ain’t even in there very deep,” she said with satisfaction.  “Let’s get him inside.”

             
“Wait!”  Sam insisted then leaned forward to get a better view of the man lying on the ground. 

             
Mort looked up from where he was examining Saul.  “He dead,” he announced coldly.  “Good shot, Moses.”

             
Moses just stared, not able to believe he had killed one of his own men, even though he knew he hadn’t had any other choice. 

             
“That be Saul from Riverside Plantation?”  Sam asked.

             
“You know him?”  Moses asked in amazement. 

             
“He been here before,” Sam said scornfully.  “I ain’t never met a man so ate up with hate in all my life.  He got treated bad, sure ‘nuff, but that wadn’t all of it.”  He paused.  “Lots of us been treated bad.  It don’t make us crazy.  It just make us determine to change thin’s.  Saul didn’t want to change nothin’,” he said sadly.  “He just want to kill thin’s.”  Sam stared down at the dead man with hard eyes.  Then he gazed back up at Moses, seeming to read into his heart.  “It be better this way, boy,” he said softly.  “Trust me.  It be better this way.”

             
Moses nodded heavily and pushed himself up.  “Let’s get you inside, Sam.”  He looked at Opal.  “You sure you can do this?”  He took comfort from the confident shine in Opal’s eyes when she nodded firmly.  Then he turned to his men.  “You’ll find some glass in the barn,” he said. 

             
“I reckons I can fix them windows right quick,” one of his men said eagerly. 

             
“Good,” Moses said shortly.  “We’ve made enough noise around here to raise every Rebel soldier within ten miles.  Fix the window; then we’ve got to get out of here.  I don’t intend to lose any more of my men.” 

             
Moses followed Sam, carried by some of his men, into the house.  He waited quietly until only he and Opal were in the room.  Then he looked down sadly.  “I’m sorry,” he said gruffly.  “This is all my fault.  I shouldn’t have come here.  I put you in danger.”

             
“Nonsense,” Sam snorted.  “Sometimes thin’s just happen.  You can’t go tryin’ to be responsible for all that goes on in this world - whether it be good or bad.  You just gots to deal with it the best you can.”  He reached out his good arm and laid his hand on Moses’.  “You save my life,” he said gently.  “That the thin’ you gots to remember.”  His hand fell away weakly.  “Now get the rest of your men out of here.  You still gots a job to do.  You go do it.”

             
“I hate to leave you,” Moses groaned. 

             
“Sam will be just fine,” Opal said sternly.  “You ain’t got a thing to worry about.  This ain’t nothing more than a flesh wound.”

             
Moses gazed at her then nodded.  “Take care of yourselves.”

             
Thirty minutes later, with the windows fixed and Saul’s body covered in an unidentified grave, Moses led his men away from Cromwell Plantation.  In two days they would be back at Fort Monroe.  His mission was over.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

             
Christmas day dawned cold and dreary.  Scattered snowflakes the night before had teased children into believing there might be a white Christmas, but the snow had subsided, seeming to know only the young would welcome it.  The skies were overcast and heavy in Richmond, but the ground remained dry.  The wind blew hard from the north, keeping most people huddled around the small bits of wood they were hoarding to keep their fireplaces warm.  The pinched look of hunger already rested on many faces.  Anxious eyes peered out from starved faces.  Although it said Christmas on the calendar, gifts of any kind were scarce.  The third year of the blockade had slowed supplies to a bare trickle.  All the people of Richmond wanted was to find a way to stave off starvation.  Some of them already knew they were asking too much. 

             
Carrie hummed to herself as she hovered over the dining room table and put the last touches of greenery on.  There was little in the house to suggest Christmas was here, but at the last minute she had run outside and denuded the magnolia of just enough of its waxen leaves to decorate the table.  There would be little to remind them of Christmases past, but they still had much to be joyful about. 

             
Thomas strode into the room and put an arm around her.  “Merry Christmas.”

             
“Merry Christmas,” Carrie said joyfully.  She finished placing the last magnolia leaf on the table then spun around.  “Can you believe we’re all together for Christmas?”   Just then she glanced over his shoulder and gasped.  “It’s snowing,” she cried in delight.  She clapped her hands together as excitedly as a little girl and ran to the window and stared out at the huge flakes descending on the city. 

             
“Not everyone will be as excited as you,” her father responded wryly, then smiled.  “You have loved snow since you were a child.”

             
Carrie continued to stare out the window.  “I know snow is not welcome in the city right now.  I know more people will suffer.  I just can’t help wanting there to be snow for Christmas,” she said wistfully. 

             
“It’s wonderful,” her father insisted warmly. “Enjoy your snow.  Heaven knows there are too few things to enjoy around here.”  He kissed her on the cheek and moved away to settle down in his chair by the fire.  He leaned his head against the back of the chair for a few minutes and then picked up a paper from the stack he kept beside it.

             
Carrie watched him lovingly.  A shadow of worry still lingered in her father’s eyes, but the bitterness and rage were gone.  He seemed to simply be waiting for the inevitable, working as hard as he could to stave it off, but under no illusions it would not someday become reality.  Carrie knew he would be heartbroken if the South lost the war, but she was now confident he would survive. 

             
Robert came downstairs then, looking well-rested.  Carrie kissed him warmly and then waved him over to the fire.  “I’m almost done here.  You and Father can play lords of the manor.”

             
“I realize it’s just a game,” Robert chuckled good-naturedly.  “I have never been particularly overwhelmed by my wife’s submissive nature.”

             
“As long as you enjoy the game,” Carrie said demurely, her eyes sparkling with fun.

             
Robert laughed, swatted her on her behind, and strolled over to the fire.  He held his hands out to warm them then settled onto the chair next to her father.  “Are we on a limited range of topics this morning?”  Robert called.

             
Carrie glared at him playfully then stood silently considering his question.  Finally she shook her head.  “I suppose it would do no good to ask you not to talk about anything relating to the war.  I realize it cannot help but consume everyone.  And I suppose it helps,” she added thoughtfully.  “I only request we not talk about it during our meal.  For just one hour, I would like to pretend there is peace on earth and goodwill among men.”

             
“You have a better imagination than I do,” Thomas said ruefully.

             
Robert smiled and picked up a paper.  He held it but continued to stare into the fire.  “I know there are many people suffering from the cold, including the soldiers bivouacked in their winter quarters, but at least the fighting has stopped for now.”

             
“There are very few men left in the hospital,” Carrie agreed thankfully.  “Most have been released to go home.  That’s the only reason Janie was able to visit her family in North Carolina.  I’m so glad she could,” she said fervently.  “It’s been three years since she’s seen them.  I’m sure they are having a joyous Christmas.”

             
“She’s probably eating better than we are here,” Robert observed.  “One thing I discovered running the blockade is that Richmond is suffering far more than other Southern cities.  No one has it easy, but food is much easier to come by if you don’t happen to live in the capital.”

             
“We have plenty,” Carrie said casually, hiding her smile.  She hadn’t yet told her father and Robert that Opal had filled several boxes with supplies from the plantation just so they could have a special Christmas.  Carrie had been hoping then that Robert would make it home from England in time.  May was hard at work in the kitchen now.  Tomorrow it would be back to simple fare - for today they would feast. 

             
She finished decorating the table and walked over to stare out the window.  The dark, gray day did nothing to diminish her happy mood.  “I invited Doctor Wild and Matron Pember over for dinner,” she said casually.

             
Her father looked up, startled.  “And what exactly are you planning on feeding them, dear?” he asked mildly.

             
“Oh, they’re used to not having much,” she responded.  “It will just be nice for them to have somewhere to go.  They both appreciated the invitation.”  She looked up to see Robert watching her closely.

             
“There’s something in your eyes,” he murmured suspiciously.  He folded his paper and put it aside.  “You’re hiding something, Carrie Borden.”

             
Carrie flushed slightly but shook her head.  She should have known she couldn’t pull one over on Robert.  “Don’t be silly,” she chided him.  Then she turned toward the kitchen.  “I have work to do,” she threw over her shoulder. 

             
Robert shook his head.  “Time will reveal all,” he called, picking his paper back up. 

             
Carrie stuck out her tongue then ducked into the hallway.  She waited several moments to make sure her astute husband wasn’t going to follow her then slipped down the hallway toward the kitchen.  She entered it quietly, pulling the door shut firmly.