On to Richmond (87 page)

             
Several long minutes passed as they stood in silence.  The streets around them bustled with activity as people rushed home to escape the encroaching storm.  Doors banged open as women dashed out to save their laundry hanging on the lines.  The trees, just a few minutes ago swaying in the breeze, were now bending low under the storm’s powerful gusts.  The roll of thunder grew louder as flashes of lightening lit up the sky with increasing intensity. 

             
Carrie longed for the moment to never end.  If only wishing hard enough could make all the horrid realities of the war melt away.   If only wishing could transport them back to her secret place by the river.  It had only been two weeks since Robert and she had moved beyond all the turmoil of their relationship.  The issue of slavery was still a bone of contention between them, but Carrie was no longer pretending her whole heart did not belong to him.  What if these two short weeks were all they were to have? 

             
Robert was the first to step back.  “I have to go, Carrie.”  All of his longing and pain were expressed in those simple words. 

             
Carrie gazed up at him, trying to etch his face into her memory.  She fought to stop the tears welling in her eyes and managed a tremulous smile.  “I love you, Robert.  Take care of yourself.”

             
Robert looked at her hungrily a moment more, then moaning slightly, he bent his head, and covered her mouth in a warm kiss.  Carrie let her response speak all the words hidden in her heart.  Both knew they might never see each other again.  A loud crack of thunder startled them both and they drew apart.  Robert raised his hand to let it rest on her face then stepped back.

             
“God bless you,” Carrie said tenderly. 

             
Robert nodded, turned, strode down the stairs, and vaulted onto the tall Thoroughbred waiting for him. 

             
Carrie ran down the steps after him and laid her head against the horse’s face.  “Take good care of him, Granite.  You better come back to me, too,” she whispered. She had given Granite to Robert just days after arriving in Richmond.  He needed a good mount, and there was not enough food in Richmond to take care of any non-working horses.  She was glad for Robert to have him, but it ripped her heart to think something might happen to her beloved horse as well as to the man she loved. Stepping back, she smiled brightly at both of them.  “Go save my city, Lieutenant Borden!”

             
Robert smiled back, tipped his hat at her, and urged Granite into a fast canter down the road.  Carrie watched until they had rounded the curve and were out of sight.  Even when she could no longer see them, she stood there, oblivious to the whipping dirt stinging her face and arms.  It was the sharp crack of a limb that brought her back to the present.   Looking up, she watched as limbs and leaves did a frantic dance in rebellion against the gale battering them. 

             
“Carrie!  Get in this house.”

             
Carrie turned and managed a smile at Janie.  “I rather like it,” she shouted above the din.  “When I see a storm like this, it helps to remind me it takes a very powerful God to create such a thing.  It gives me hope that maybe he really is in control of all this.”

             
Janie strode down the stairs and took her arm.  “And it would give me hope that you still have some sense in your head if you wouldn’t keep standing out here waiting for a limb to knock you silly!” she retorted.

             
Carrie allowed Janie to pull her onto the porch and then turned to stare back out at the building fury. 

             
“Was that Robert I saw leaving?”

             
Carrie nodded.  “He has been called to the front.”

             
“I’m sorry,” Janie said simply.  She took Carrie’s hand and stood silently. 

             
Carrie was grateful she said no more.  There was nothing to be said, anyway.  This same scene was being played thousands of times daily in every town in the country.  There were no words to ease the pain or take away the questioning and worry in each heart as loved ones left for the battlefield.  It was simply to be endured. 

             
Finally she spoke.  “There seems to be nothing but questions about the people in my life that I love.”  For just a moment, it seemed as if it would overwhelm her.  The pictures swirled through her mind, fighting for first position.  Moses, who had helped save her from the Union soldiers on the plantation, was himself a Union spy.  Where was he?  And what would happen to him if caught by the Confederates?  And what about Rose?  The last Carrie knew she was safe in Philadelphia, but what if slave hunters were still pursuing her?  What if Ike Adams went after her again? 

             
Pictures of Aunt Abby swirled into the collage.  Her special friend, who was so much like a second mother to her, now lived in the foreign country of the North.  There had been no communication, save one smuggled letter through the Underground Railroad, for over a year.  And Matthew - Robert’s close friend from the North who had recently been released from a prison in Richmond.  Would his job as a newspaper war correspondent once again put him in danger? 

             
Overlaying the collage of swirling pictures was the image of a tall, handsome lieutenant mounted on a towering, gray Thoroughbred. 

             
A deafening crack of lightening ripped through the darkening sky.  The sound of an explosion and a flash of light told Carrie a tree had attracted more than its share of the storm’s fury.  As she stared out, the first fat raindrops fell.  Within seconds, the drops had turned into a pounding deluge that made all talk impossible.  Stepping farther back into the shelter of the porch, Carrie allowed the fury of the storm to carry some of her feelings of helplessness and powerlessness away with it.  She had always found strength in storms.  This one was no different. 

             
Tomorrow would come.  There was nothing she could do to stop it.  All she could do was wait to see what the new day would bring.

Carrie tried to look like she was listening as she forced herself to eat the supper May had fixed for the household.  Overcrowding in the city had filled every house to capacity.  Until a month ago, her father had lived by himself with his two house servants.  Now the household totaled twelve.  She and Janie shared a room upstairs.  The other seven were men employed by the government.  All of them were pleasant enough, but Carrie had been busy at the hospital and had had little time to become acquainted with them.

              Thomas Cromwell cleared his throat as he reached for his glass of water.  “I have proof today that all of Richmond is indeed trying to do their part for the war effort.”  He allowed his voice to trail off, inviting questions.

             
Carrie roused herself with an effort.   Her father had been casting anxious looks at her since reaching the table.  She had seen Janie talking to him just before they were called to dinner, so she was sure he knew Robert had been called away.  She forced a light note into her voice.  Giving into despair would do no one any good.  “And just what evidence did you acquire today?”

             
Thomas turned to her eagerly, obviously relieved by her show of interest.  “Even the proprietors of our gambling halls have embraced the patriotism of our time.”

             
“And just how, pray tell, have they done that?” Janie asked in an openly skeptical voice.  “Are they opening their doors to Union soldiers as well so that they might make more money?”

             
Thomas laughed but shook his head.  “They have
closed
their doors for a while.”

             
“What?”  That was enough to get even Carrie’s attention.  She had only been in town for short periods during the last year, but she was well aware of the gambling hall’s reputations.

             
Thomas nodded.  “They’ve decided to suspend operations for a while because too many of our officers were being lured from their duties. But that’s not all,” he said, and paused dramatically.  “They have also voted to give twenty thousand dollars to our cause.”

             
“Be still my beating heart!”  Janie cried dramatically as laughter rang through the room. 

             
“They have decreed it be used to purchase articles needed to treat the wounded in whatever may be coming.”

             
Carrie felt the now-familiar fear clutching at her throat.

             
Her face must have betrayed her emotions, for her father looked at her regretfully and said, “I’m sorry, Carrie.  That was thoughtless and insensitive of me.”

             
Carrie pushed aside visions of Robert lying wounded on the battlefield and reached forward to take her father’s hand.  “Nonsense.  I am very glad the owners of the gambling halls are finally going to do something constructive with their money.  It will be much needed.  Our soldiers deserve the finest care.”  She searched her mind for a way to change the subject to let her father off the hook, but it took all her mental energy to keep from bursting into tears. 

             
“I understand they took care of another Union spy today.”  The statement was offered by Warren Pucket, a clerk in the War Department.  The slightly built man, in his early forties, had been turned down for the army because of medical reasons, but that had not stopped him from making the trip from Alabama to offer what services he could. 

             
Thomas turned toward him with obvious relief.  “I had heard a little about it but don’t really know the story.   Do tell us.”

             
Warren complied.  “Evidently Timothy Webster was a master spy.  Since last October he has been dispatching letters to the North detailing the Confederate’s military secrets.  From what I have been told, he managed to work himself into Baltimore’s Confederate Underground.  They actually helped sneak him over the lines because they thought they were helping their own cause.”

             
“Rather ingenious,” Thomas muttered angrily. 

             
“It gets worse,” Warren replied.  “Webster posed as an Englishman here in town and made friends with officials on every level.  He hung around the newspapers and the War Department.  Why, both General Winder and Secretary Benjamin used him as a dispatcher.”

             
“He was used by the Secretary of the War Department?  Judas Benjamin was taken in by him?”  Thomas exclaimed. 

             
Warren shrugged.  “He was evidently very good at what he did.”

             
“How did they catch him?”  Janie asked.

             
“The story I heard said Webster fell ill with extremely painful rheumatism.  He went so long without reporting to Washington, they got worried about him and sent two men down to check on him.  Someone recognized the two men as northern detectives.  They hadn’t been here long before they found themselves in jail.”

             
“But what about Webster?”  Carrie asked.  She found the story fascinating even though she was appalled to think these were all American citizens spying on each other. 

             
Warren smirked.  “The two men in jail didn’t take too kindly to the idea they were going to hang for being spies.  With a little persuasion and promises of mercy, they broke and told all about Webster and his mission.  He was really the big fish in the whole operation.  Until yesterday he has occupied one of our prisons.”

             
“What happened yesterday?”  Carrie asked.

             
“They hung him,” Warren stated flatly.

             
Carrie turned white and stared at him.  “They hung him?” she repeated. 

             
Warren’s face hardened with anger.  “You don’t get away with spying in the Capitol.  There is no telling how many of our men died needlessly because of the information he passed out.”