The Last, Long Night (#5 in the Bregdan Chronicles Historical Fiction Romance Series) (5 page)

There was a battle about three weeks ago.  We were rather outnumbered.  Anyway, the Rebels took the fort, and the Union troops surrendered.”

“Dat’s what we done heard,” Pompey said grimly.  “Dey should hab been took as prisoners!”

Moses nodded his agreement even while his face twisted.  “The South isn’t real keen on having former slaves as prisoners of war.”

“So dey really did shoot dem all?”  Pompey asked heavily.

Moses groped for words and then finally just nodded, sick at heart.  How could words possibly communicate the horror of the massacre he had been informed took place at Fort Pillow?  All but twenty of the three hundred black soldiers at Fort Pillow had been executed after they had surrendered.  And then, General Forrest knowing the fort had no real significance to the Confederacy had abandoned it an hour later, leaving behind all the corpses to rot.

Rage and sorrow engulfed Pompey’s face.  Finally he said, “I reckon de boys gonna be out for some revenge,” he said flatly.

Moses smiled grimly.  “I have a feeling it will make all of us fight harder,” he agreed.  A sudden stir among his men one hundred feet away caught his attention. 

Pompey glanced over and then peered harder.  “What dat white man doin’ ober dere?” he asked sharply.  “That ain’t one of de officers.”

Moses shrugged but stood.  “Let’s go find out.”

As he got closer, he couldn’t contain the broad smile that spread across his face.

Matthew Justin couldn’t help being relieved that a battle didn’t seem scheduled for that day.  He had long ago grown weary of covering battles, but he never grew tired of discovering the people wearing the uniforms, especially the black soldiers that were increasing by such vast numbers.

It was also possible Lee would start the battle, but he didn’t think that was the Confederate plan.  They had dug into an impregnable defense system on the banks above the Rapidan, and he knew Lee had less than half the men the Union did.  It wouldn’t be the first time the Confederate general surprised them, but something in his gut said it wouldn’t be today. 

As Matthew sauntered around looking for the men he wanted to interview, he couldn’t say he was back to one hundred percent after his imprisonment at Libby Prison, but he had gained a lot of weight back in the weeks since his escape. And the
Philadelphia Enquirer
was eager to have its leading war correspondent back in the field.  He had spent the last week writing the story of the prisons and the men languishing there; now he had a battle to cover.

Matthew was also quite certain he would do whatever it took not to be taken prisoner again.  He knew he wouldn’t survive another visit in Libby Prison, and he doubted the other Confederate prisoner-of-war camps were any better.  In fact, he’d heard others were worse.  He couldn’t control the shudder that coursed through his body as the memories, still so fresh in his mind, swarmed over him.

It was time to quit thinking and time to start working.  He stopped and decided to speak with the group of men he was standing in the midst of.  The fact that it was a black regiment was all the better.  He wanted to tell their stories and bring them to life for his readers.  There was one black soldier, in particular, that he wanted to meet, but he knew better than to expect he could find him in the tens of thousands of men spread out on the river banks. 

“Good morning, men,” Matthew called out.

“Mornin’,” several of them responded and then went back to cooking their bacon over the glowing campfire. He wasn’t in uniform, so it was obvious he wasn’t an officer. 

Matthew knew the black men were curious.  He smiled and settled down on his heels.  “My name is Matthew Justin.  I’m a journalist for the
Philadelphia Enquirer
.”

The soldiers continued to watch him.  He didn’t feel any antagonism from them - just caution.  He knew they had every right to feel that way.  Over one hundred thousand black soldiers were now fighting in the Union army, but there were still many white soldiers who didn’t believe they belonged there, and they took every chance they could to let them know it. 

“I just spent time in the contraband camp at Fort Monroe,” Matthew said, instantly aware many of the men were watching him more closely now.  “I recently escaped from a prison in Richmond and made my way to Fort Monroe.”

“I heard ‘bout dat escape from Libby Prison,” one of the men acknowledged.  “There was a whole bunch of us prayin’ all you would make it.”

“Thank you.  We didn’t all make it free, but most of us did.”  Matthew suppressed a shudder as he thought of the treatment the captured escapees must surely be enduring. 

“It be true that some of you dug a tunnel all the way out from dat prison?” one of the men asked. 

Matthew just nodded, not wanting to relive the experience. 

“Welcome to freedom, man!” one of the soldiers said, giving Matthew the first real smile he had received since joining them.  Just as he expected, that one acceptance loosened the ice.   Everybody relaxed and lost their cautious looks.

Matthew smiled back.  “All of you who were slaves know exactly how glad I was to get out of that prison.  I only had a taste of what you experienced all your life, but it was enough to last me my whole life.  I would do anything to keep from going back to prison.”

“Yep.  That be about how we feel,” one man responded, stretching his lean body back against a log.  “I done spent thirty years as a slave.  I ain’t neber goin’ back to it, and I want to help all dem that are still stuck down there.  I reckon dat’s a good enough reason to fight.”

Matthew gazed around the campfire as the rest of the men nodded solemnly.  “I had a chance to talk at the school down at Fort Monroe.  It’s so wonderful to see the children learning for the first times in their lives.  I have a friend who is a teacher down there.”

“Dat be so?” another one of the men asked.  “I know one of the teachers down there, too.  When she started out, she be the only black teacher down there.  Don’t know about now.”

Matthew stared at him.  “You know Rose?”

“Miss Rose? Rose Samuels?  Why, most of us be knowing Miss Rose.”

              “Miss Rose be Moses’ wife,” another offered.

              Matthew gasped.  “This is Moses’ unit?” he asked incredulously, whipping his head to look around.

Moses had been listening for a while, but now he stepped forward with a loud laugh, “Matthew Justin!  I didn’t figure there were many lanky redhead journalists around here, so I figured it had to be you even before I heard what you said.  I don’t know how you managed to find me in all this chaos, but I sure am glad you did!”

Matthew sprang to his feet and reached out to clasp the hand Moses held out to him.  “I can’t believe it’s you, Moses!”  Then he fell silent as the two men stared at each other.

Moses was the first to speak after he cleared his throat.  “I reckon I owe you more than I can ever repay you,” he said gruffly.  “Rose told me how you saved her from Ike Adams, and what a good friend you were to her when she was with Aunt Abby.”

“This be dat journalist fella Rose done told us about?” one of his men demanded. 

“He is, indeed, men!” Moses said, sweeping his gaze over the 150 men in his regiment.  “I imagine he wants to tell some of your stories.  Let him.  Every chance we get to show white people we are no different from them, we should take it.” 

Moses turned to see Matthew still staring at him. 

“I saw Rose just a few days ago,” Matthew said.  “I’m so glad to finally meet you.  I had almost decided you were a figment of everyone’s imagination, but someone as big as you can hardly be a figment.”

Moses joined in the laughter while he tried to swallow back the longing for his wife and son that threatened to choke him.  When everyone had quieted, he turned back to Matthew.  “Go ahead and talk to my men.  When you’re done, we’ll take some time for ourselves.”

Matthew shook his head decisively.  “It’s a miracle I found you in all these men.  We both know an order could come through any minute, and then the chance of my finding you again in this war would be about impossible.”  He swept his gaze over the men staring at him.  “I would, indeed, like to talk to many of you, but if you don’t mind, I’m going to talk to Moses first.”

“You two go right ahead,” Pompey said.  “Me and the boys gonna hab us some grub.  We be right here when you wants to talk to us.”

Moses smiled and motioned Matthew over to his spot.  They were still surrounded by tens of thousands of men and animals, but for just that moment they felt as if they were alone.

“Carrie sends her love,” Matthew said.

“You’ve seen Carrie?” Moses demanded.  “When?”

“About a month ago.  She helped me escape from Libby Prison.”

Moses settled back on his heels.  “Sounds like you got a story to tell.”

Matthew grinned.  “You can read it in the paper - all but the part about the wife of a Confederate captain, and the Confederate captain himself, who helped me escape.  I thought it best if I left that part out.”

Moses whistled.  “Carrie Cromwell… I mean Borden… is a special woman.”

“That she is,” Matthew agreed.  “She’s doing well, at least as well as can be expected in a city that is under constant attack and where almost everyone is going hungry.”

“Carrie is starving?” Moses asked sharply. 

“No,” Matthew said quickly.  “I’d say all of them are tired of the simple diet they have, but they’re not going hungry.  Thomas still has enough money to pay the ridiculous prices.”  He took a sip of the hot coffee Moses held out to him.  “I saw her only for the one night, but she’s happy.  Do you know she and Robert are married?”

Moses nodded.  “I stopped by Cromwell when I was doing a raid through the countryside with my men last fall.  Carrie had been there so Sam was able to fill me in on everything.” 

“I was on the plantation for a couple weeks during the escape,” Matthew said.  “Sam and Opal were wonderful, filling me with enough food to almost make up for months of starvation.”  He smiled.  “I still miss Opal’s apple pie.”  He took another sip of coffee.  “Sam didn’t say anything about your being there.”

“Raiding the countryside with a regiment of black soldiers is not exactly something to be broadcast.  I asked Sam not to tell anyone we were there.”

“Makes sense,” Matthew agreed. “Robert is a different man,” he said quietly.  “He was wounded badly during a battle.  Almost died.  An unknown man took him to a black family who saved his life.”

Moses saw no reason not to reveal the truth.  “That was me.”

Matthew stared at him in astonishment.  “What?”

Moses told him the story quickly.  “I couldn’t let him just die without trying to help.  Robert
or
Granite. I did it for Carrie.”  He stared out over the smoke from campfires in every direction.  “I’m glad he made it, and I truly hope he’s good enough for Carrie now.”

“He knows owning slaves is wrong,” Matthew said quietly.

Moses whistled.  “That’s a big thing!  Of course, his slaves have probably all run away by now, but I’m real glad he knows a man shouldn’t own people.” 

Matthew, knowing they didn’t have a lot of time, changed the subject.  “Your wife is quite an amazing woman.”

“That she is,” Moses said gruffly.

“And your boy will be as big as you.”

“Looks like it,” Moses said simply, trying once again to swallow the heaviness in his heart. 

“You miss them terribly.”

“More than I ever thought possible,” Moses agreed, clearing his throat.  “I chose to join the army, and I know Rose is as safe as she can be at Fort Monroe, but every second I’m away from her hurts.”  He shook his head.  “I know I’m surrounded by men who feel the same way I do.” 

“You’re lucky to have someone you love that much.”

Moses pulled his thoughts away from Rose.  “You’re not married.”  It wasn’t a question.  “Does Carrie know how you feel about her?”

Matthew flushed bright red and stared at him.  “It’s that obvious?”

Moses shrugged.  “Your secret is safe with me.”

“Robert knows,” Matthew admitted.  “He also knows I’ll never do anything with my feelings.  He knows he can trust me.”