Plantation Nation (9781621352877) (16 page)

The condescending tone caused Will's tense
countenance to grow tighter. Orson jiggled with a chuckle,
convincing Emma that he didn't mind his son's confrontational
behavior. Emma didn't like Orson's at-ease attitude. Where she came
from, children only addressed their elders with respect. She had
never known a father who didn't exercise proper authority over his
child, and she had no inclination for an understanding. She just
wanted to get away from these two.

Emma plucked the map from her pocket. "Any
idea where we might be?"

"We're about here." Orson pointed to a spot.
"Headin' to Bedford, you say?"

Emma nodded reluctantly.

"Ain't too much out that a-ways. A feed store
and a smithy, but not much else. Seems a might strange place for a
special
assignment
, as you called it."

"See, I told ya, Pa. He's a deserter."

Frustrated and anxious, Emma gritted her
teeth but didn't let it show. She felt the Colt resting against her
leg. She'd wanted to keep the exchange of information simple. If
she had to, if Will continued to bristle and if Orson continued
with his suspicions, she would use the gun to break away.

"Look, if you fellas can't help me out, I
understand." Emma began folding the map, but Orson stopped her.

"Oh, I ain't said I can't help." Orson
squinted one eye shut and looked at Emma. "Just trying to figure
why anyone would send out a soldier alone on an important
assignment. Lots of Johnny Rebs hiding in the trees between here 'n
Bedford. Seems a might foolish if you ask me."

"I don't make the orders. I just follow
them." She met Orson's gaze and didn't let her voice waiver.

Orson surprised Emma when he chuckled. "Guess
you got a point there." He looked back at the map. "So you ain't
too far off. Matter of fact, we just left a Union camp that ways.
Prime area for me and my boy to sell our wares." Orson patted the
wagon behind him.
Granger and Sons
was painted along the
side in big gold letters.

"So you're a peddler?"

"Ain't you full o'smarts?" Will snapped.

Orson ignored the boy. "That's right," Orson
said. "Matter of fact, I have something you'd be interested in." He
tugged on a drawer behind Will and pulled out a small wooden case,
then handed it to Emma.

She opened it and revealed a compass. Heat
raced to her cheeks. She wondered why the colonel and McClellan had
not thought to equip her with one in the first place.

"I believe I could use this," Emma said, "but
I don't have any money. Best I could offer you is some
cornbread."

Orson's eyes lit up. "Cornbread is as good as
gold in my book!"

Emma gave them all she had and was thankful
it wasn't soaked. She imagined how Eleanor's face would light up
once she told her how her cornbread had rescued Emma. She'd
appreciate the story, if Emma managed to get to Roanoke and back to
camp.

"I hate to leave you fellas, but you'll have
to excuse me. I've got a far ride tonight, so now that I know where
I'm at, I'd better be heading off. I'm indebted to you, Orson, and
so is the Union army."

"Think nothin' of it."

As she and Flash dashed into the rainy night,
Emma welcomed the downpour. Being with Orson and Will made her feel
mired in a swamp full of crocodiles. But even with the cover of
night and the rain obscuring her from their view, Emma still felt
Will's glare weighing on her like a dead-eyed Rebel sniper.

Emma rode on through the night. As the rain
tapered off, the sounds and shadows of the Virginia countryside at
night kept her reaching for her revolver. Gradually, she relaxed
and focused on conquering the distance. Two days lapsed, as best as
she could make out, with no sleep and bites of food instead of
meals. Raw coffee grounds, from McClellan's own stash, fueled her,
along with the determination to prove her doubters wrong.

Evening closed in, and Emma and Flash
lethargically crossed into Roanoke. She found the Boar's Head Inn
and Tavern, her rendezvous point, and delivered the papers to the
next courier. A tall drink was served to her at the bar, but Emma's
legs gave out. The innkeeper and his wife carried Emma to her room,
where she slept the longest stretch of her life.

Late the next morning, food and clean, dry
clothes were lavished upon her. Earl and Betsy, the owners, took
the news of Perry's fate hard. They heaped gratitude and steaming
hot biscuits upon Emma, who silently vowed she'd never eat another
piece of hardtack again after tasting Betsy's handiwork. With her
haversack replenished with food, and her legs achy and sore, Emma
climbed back into the saddle atop Flash. She tipped her cap and set
off to rejoin the Army of the Potomac.

In the daylight, and despite the brisk air,
the Virginia hillside looked glorious. Feeling adept and at ease,
Emma enjoyed the scenery and felt a pang of yearning for her own
homeland. Harvesting the rice was long over by now, if there had
been any rice to harvest. She wished she knew how her family had
fared after the battle at Port Royal. Frilly dresses and parties
were probably dusty memories. How had they all changed, and who
remained?

An aching for Sylvia and news of her
well-being also invaded Emma's thoughts. Months had passed, and
Emma knew not how she and the people of New Orleans were weathering
the heavy presence of the Union's fleet. A hostile takeover of the
city and its ports was imminent. Emma had last visited the city in
1853. Her family had been whole then, her father vibrant, Franklin
quiet but trustworthy, and the Uprising had yet to intrude and scar
the Cartwrights.

Emma snapped from her melancholy when she
heard a distinct groan. She halted Flash and scanned the horizon.
Nothing caught her eye. She reached for her revolver anyway.

"Hello?"

Silence beat, then came, "Help me."

Emma searched for the owner of the feeble
voice but saw no one on the landscape. "Where are you?"

"Down here."

Several yards ahead, a bridge stretched
across a small ravine. Emma approached but eyed every tree and
bush, expecting a band of Rebels to pop out with readied
muskets.

"Help."

No Rebels came. Emma slid from her horse and
peeked over the ravine. Lying near the brook that cut through the
empty gorge was a Confederate soldier. Emma straightened and
checked her surroundings again. She was convinced she'd fallen into
a trap. Ironically, Emma felt grateful she'd worn a plain gray cap
and a gray overcoat instead of her Union jacket. If Rebels
converged on her, Emma could claim to be a southern kinsman,
especially since both the Union and Confederate sides found a
distinct pleasure in taking prisoners. Emma wouldn't be shackled
without a fight.

"Who are you?" Emma's eyes darted all around
as she kept the Colt steady.

"Adam Hall. Please, I need help."

Emma looked over the embankment again.
Bruises and scrapes marked Adam's face and a wheezing sound
accompanied his breathing. Emma had to rethink the situation and
consider that Adam was alone and desperately in need of help. Emma
holstered her gun and slid down the ravine.

"What happened to you?"

"Marauders. They stole my horse and
provisions. Threw me over the bridge." Adam coughed. Blood
accompanied. His bloodstained hands and face indicated it wasn't
the first time.

"Are you shot?"

"No, but the rocks…"

Emma guessed Adam had plunged fifteen feet.
Large, coarse rocks lined the ravine and the brook. She suspected
internal injuries.

"Where are you hurt?"

Adam indicated his side and left leg. Emma
examined Adam as best she could. She assessed that Adam had a
broken rib that had punctured his lung.

"I'd say that leg is broken." Emma held
little hope that Adam would recover, especially with no medical
facility nearby. She knew Adam wouldn't be able to endure the ride
back to the Union camp, more than a day's ride away. And how would
a Confederate soldier be received, injured or not?

Adam coughed up more blood.

"Hold on," Emma said.

She scrambled back to her horse and grabbed
her canteen. Hastily, she filled it with water from the brook and
poured some into Adam's mouth.

"I'll see if I can find some shelter." Emma
gripped Adam's shoulder. "Hang in there. I'm going to get you out
of here."
I won't let you die here.

Adam nodded, but Emma knew Adam didn't have
much time.

****

Half a mile off sat a run-down barn. It
appeared the main house had been lost to a fire, and the owners had
fled. Aside from weeds, the dilapidated structure had nothing to
offer. Cupboards were empty, but the barn gave slight protection
from the crisp wind. Although it was crude and probably unwise,
Emma roped Adam to Flash and made the horse pull the injured man
out of the ravine. With Adam's broken leg, there had been no other
way. Then, awkwardly slumped part way over Flash, Adam held on as
Emma led them to the barn.

With her still-damp bed roll and haversack,
Emma made a place for Adam to lie down. Adam's coughing had
increased, and the strain of moving had intensified his pain. Emma
knew her actions had aggravated Adam's injuries, but she wouldn't
let the man die in that ravine. Every groan Adam sputtered pained
her as well.

"I'm afraid there isn't much I can do." Emma
took Adam's hand. "But I'll stay with you."

Emma's compassion for the soldier surprised
her. She looked at Adam's uniform and expected a disdain for the
Confederacy to rise up. Nothing did. Of course, Emma could only
imagine what Adam's opinions might be of the North, and again Emma
felt relieved she had not worn her Union jacket. But she removed
her overcoat and covered Adam, who shook from a mounting
combination of pain, chills and blood loss.

"I can write a letter home to your family, if
you like."

"They don't want to hear from me."

Emma wondered if Adam realized he was
dying.

"Yes, Adam, they do."

"My pa told me not to join the Confederate
Army. He said it was wrong, all wrong."

"What was?"

"The whole war. Pa always said making slaves
out of men was wrong. He had a friend, Ruby, who worked with him on
the railroad in Tennessee." Adam took his time speaking, rested
between sentences, and spoke with his eyes closed. "Pa said Ruby
worked harder than any of them, but others hated him because he was
colored. Pa stood up for Ruby, but one day, the foreman said money
was missing from the till. He blamed Ruby. Shot him right there in
front of everyone. Pa said they buried him along the line. Nothing
happened to the foreman, not even when the money turned up later in
another man's bunk."

Emma felt her throat run dry. How could such
evil and injustice prosper in a country founded on principles of
freedom? Of the men she knew personally, Emma trusted few. However,
Henry and Basil were among those she felt solidarity with. Except
for her father, men had let her down. Franklin had left her. Vaughn
disgusted her. Quinn hated her. Alexander cared nothing for her.
Knox's love had failed her.

"I wasn't around any coloreds till I joined
the army," Adam said. "My family's always worked the railroad.
Never had slaves. Some officers brought their slaves. Made them do
the wash and cooking. I didn't think nothing of it really. They
just looked so different. But I saw how the officers treated them.
Yelled at them. Hit them. All for no reason. It got me thinking Pa
was right. Treating another man like that seems wrong."

Adam clutched his side and arched his back as
a wave of pain overtook him.

Emma took a muslin shirt from her sack and
ripped it into rags. She soaked a strip with cold water from the
brook and patted Adam's face. There was nothing else she could do.
Nothing but wait. Adam slowly relaxed, but Emma could tell the end
was near.

"Pa didn't want me part of the fighting,"
Adam said with shallow breaths, "not for their side." He feigned a
smile. "Guess he might say I got what I deserved."

Emma squeezed Adam's hand. "I'm sure that's
not true."

Adam turned his head toward her. A
hopefulness crossed his face.

"I'll send word for you. I'll tell your Pa
what you're telling me, and remind him what a fine man you are. It
will ease his loss."

"There's so much I wanted to do," Adam said.
"Wanted to farm my own piece of land. Sit in church with a pretty
wife beside me. Have a mess of young'uns running around me on
Christmas morning…" Tears slid from his eyes. "Would you pray with
me?"

Emma nodded and bowed her head as her own
tears blazed a trail down her warm cheeks.

****

Emma had no shovel, no tools to dig a grave.
Unable to bear the thought of Adam's body being eaten by wolves or
coyotes, she rolled the body in her blanket and covered him with
planks she tore from the barn. Her efforts were futile, she knew,
but Emma believed respect and dignity for the dead were just as
important as for the living.

When she returned to the Army of the Potomac
two days later, Emma was met by an elated Colonel Reed. Questions
flew from him before she could dismount Flash.

"What on earth kept you so long, Edmonds?
We've been worried, and we had no idea what to do in the event you
didn't return. Why, Lieutenant Trumball organized a reconnaissance
band to search for your whereabouts."

"He was probably hoping I was dead," Emma
mumbled.

"Say again, Edmonds."

"Oh, nothing, sir. Just surprised to hear
that Lieutenant Trumball was… concerned about me."

"Of course he was. We all were." Colonel Reed
ran his hand over his silver-gray hair and replaced his hat. "What
would we have done if those papers had been lost?"