Dark Chaos (# 4 in the Bregdan Chronicles Historical Fiction Romance Series) (7 page)

             
The men surrounding him cheered as the Federal forces broke and retreated, their numbers severely decimated.  Robert swung his attention back to the clearing and waited for the order to charge again.   The Federals had not been idle during the futile cavalry charge.  The ground around the artillery had been cleared of stragglers and vehicles; now the artillery faced the thick woods.  Robert opened his mouth to yell his horror of what he knew was coming...

             
“Forward!”

             
At their commander’s order, the units already filling the woods poured forth in pursuit of final Confederate victory.   A volley of musketry fire dimmed their savage yell as they surged forward.  The Federal cannoneers stood their ground until with one mighty roar the line of artillery detonated, the explosion shaking the ground and obliterating all sound but its own. 

             
Robert wept even before the smoke rose on the suddenly silent scene.  Without looking, he knew what he would see.  The men around him stared in shocked silence, their faces white with agony.  Robert finally raised his eyes.   Nothing stood in the clearing.  Every single man who had rushed from the woods lay where he had fallen. Decimated bodies littered the earth. 

Moses couldn’t take his eyes from the scene of carnage in front of him.  Dimly he became aware that the Confederate advance had been halted by the
lightening stroke of the artillery attack.  “Poor beggars,” he muttered thickly, his loathing of battle intensified. 

             
Pompey appeared by his side, his sweaty face streaked with soot and powder.  “I reckon them boys died fer dere flag, Moses.”

             
“I reckon they did, Pompey.  I reckon they did,” Moses said heavily. 

             
“You think it be over?”  Pompey asked.

             
Moses stared out at the scene.  Every particle of his being longed for this battle to be over, but his heart told him it wasn’t so.  He shook his head slowly.  “I’m afraid there’ll be more dying.”  His eyes scanned the clearing.  “It’s not over yet.”

CHAPTER FOUR

             
Rose stepped out onto her tiny porch, shielded her eyes against the morning sun, and stared east. She had heard the reports of Hooker crossing the Rappahannock.   Somewhere beyond the open fields and dense forests, Moses was fighting a battle.  

             
“Don’t you wish you could see right over them trees?”

             
Rose smiled slightly as June, Moses’ sister, appeared at her side.  “I do indeed. And by the way, it’s
those
trees.” 

             
June grimaced.  “It’s hard enough to learn how to speak correctly without having to think about it when I’m worried.”

             
Rose reached out and put her hand on June’s arm.  “I’m sorry.  It’s just automatic to me.  I wasn’t even thinking.  I guess the teacher in me can’t be pushed down even when I’m sick with worry over my husband.”

             
“Moses will be just fine,” June said stoutly.  “God’s done kept him safe this far.  I reckon he’ll keep on.”

             
Knowing June was trying to make her feel better, Rose said nothing.  Most of the time it worked.  She knew she had to trust God with her husband’s life.  It was easier during the day when she was busy teaching and helping the refuge slaves who were still flooding into the contraband camp and filling the place to capacity.   There was precious little time to think of herself.   “It’s the nights that are so hard,” she finally murmured softly.   Her sleep had been disturbed by horrible dreams that would jar her awake and send her out onto the porch.  Images of Moses sprawled dead on the battlefield would dim as the morning light chased away the darkness.

             
“You look awful tired,” June said solicitously. 

             
Rose didn’t bother to deny the pervasive weariness that gripped her body.  Unconsciously, she laid her hand on her swollen belly.  She knew she had to take care of herself for the sake of the little one waiting to be ushered into the world, but the demands were never ending.  How long before their child was born?  She longed to have Moses with her, but she knew it was impossible.

             
“I’ll get us some breakfast,” June offered.   Just then the wail of her little boy, Simon, split the morning air.  “After I give him some,” she smiled.

             
Rose stared after her sister-in-law thoughtfully and reproached herself inwardly.  Here she was pining for Moses, but at least she had seen him five months earlier and received letters from him on almost a weekly basis.  June’s husband, Simon, had been called to work on the fortifications surrounding Richmond two years ago.  June had not heard from him since, yet she talked to her little son about his father constantly and prayed for him every night.  She held onto the hope that one day they would be a family. 

             
Rose took another deep breath of the fresh morning air before she turned to enter the cabin.  She had a full day ahead of her.  Just then the baby in her womb erupted with a mighty kick.  Rose gasped, reached for the railing to steady herself, and smiled tenderly.  “I have a feeling you’re a boy, little one,” she murmured.  “You already have the strength of your daddy.”  As if in agreement, her baby gave another strong kick before settling down. 

             
Rose swung back around to stare east.  “I think our child will be born soon, Moses,” she whispered, her eyes welling with tears of both joy and sorrow.   “I promise to love it enough for both of us until you come home.”  Behind her a wail burst from the cabin.  Rose frowned and hurried inside. 

             
June stared up at her from where she was huddled next to baby Simon’s tiny bed.   “He’s got the fever,” she said in a choked voice.  “My baby boy done got the fever.”

             
Rose stiffened and moved over to put her hand on the ten-month-old boy’s forehead.   The glistening skin was frightfully hot.   Rose managed to contain her groan.  There was no reason to add to June’s fear - a fear that was justified.  Dozens of babies had died during the long winter months when disease had swept through the crowded camp.  Hope had risen with the warm winds blowing in from the south.  The long days of summer still loomed ahead, but a collective sigh of relief had greeted the moderate days of spring. 

             
Rose met June’s frightened eyes squarely.  “Simon is strong.  He’ll make it,” she said confidently, praying she was right.  For a moment she longed for the abundant supply of ice they had always had at Cromwell Plantation; then she tightened her lips.  They may not have ice, but the thousands of blacks who had fled here had their freedom.   “I’ll be back in a minute with fresh water,” she said. 

             
Rose grabbed a bucket and hurried outside.  In the few minutes it took her to return, baby Simon was even more feverish.   His pitiful wails made her heart ache.  June had already pulled all the covers away from him and had gathered a pile of rags.  She dipped one into the bucket as soon as Rose set it down, wrung it out carefully, and placed it on the tiny body.  Rose imitated her actions, handing her a fresh one, just as June removed the already hot rag.

             
Rose felt a sick dread grip her heart but pushed aside the paralyzing fear.  She needed to channel all of her energy into action. 

             
“He’s awfully hot,” June whispered fearfully.  “Did you hear Pearl’s baby died last week from the fever?”

             
“I won’t hear any talk like that,” Rose said firmly.  “It won’t help to imagine the worst.  We just have to deal with what is.”  She cast in her mind for a way to help June.  “Sing to him,” she said suddenly.

             
“What?”  June asked in a startled voice.

             
“Sing to him,” Rose repeated.  “The music will help calm him.”

             
June swallowed hard; then she began to sing in a quavering soprano.

Swing low, sweet chariot

             
Coming for to carry me home

             
Swing low

             
Sweet chariot

             
Coming for to carry me home.

             
Rose joined in, her soft voice crooning the words that had carried her and Moses to safety during their escape.  As always, the words gave her renewed strength.

I looked over Jordan

              And what did I see

             
Coming for to carry me home

             
A band of angels coming after me

             
Coming for to carry me home.

              The words faded away, but Simon’s cries had lessened, and the stark fear was gone from June’s eyes.   “Thank you,” June said quietly.  She said no more but continued to hum soothingly as she battled to bring Simon’s fever down. 

             
Rose watched for a few minutes and then picked up the bucket to go fetch fresh water.  As she hurried down the street, now alive with throngs of people, she nodded and smiled at the many people who spoke to her but didn’t slow her pace.   Her bucket full, she made her way back toward the cabin.   She wished she could bring a doctor back to treat the sick baby.  The government had finally provided one doctor for the thousands of people in the camps, but he was woefully overworked, and medicine was scarce.  Only the most desperate cases warranted his attention, and by then it was usually too late.  Rose ground her teeth in frustration.   How long would her people have to continue to pay the ultimate price in their quest for freedom and equality? 

             
Rose could hear Simon’s wails as she approached the cabin.  For a moment she thought longingly of Aunt Abby’s luxurious home in Philadelphia - of the sumptuous bedroom she and Moses had shared after they had escaped Cromwell Plantation.  Aunt Abby had begged her to return to Philadelphia to have her baby, but Rose had refused, believing her place was here in the camps.  Had she made a mistake?  Was she bringing sickness and death on her unborn child?   Her steps faltered for a moment but then strengthened.  Her place was here - with her people.  She would just have to deal with what came. 

             
Rose and June worked over Simon all morning.  Finally, just before lunch, his fever abated and his cries diminished to a weak whimper.  Rose breathed a sigh of relief, but she knew the battle was far from over.  “I wish I’d listened to my mama more,” she said wistfully.

             
“You mean about all them herbs she used?”

             
Rose nodded.  “I used to look down my nose at them, convinced white medicine was more effective.  Carrie, however, learned all she could.  I’d give anything to know all the secret things my mama used to bring down fevers and take care of illness.”

             
June shrugged.  “Ain’t no use wishing for what you can’t have.”  She paused, stroking Simon’s forehead.  “I don’t reckon there’s any of us that wouldn’t change a lot of things about our life if we had the chance.  I guess all we can do is go on, trying not to make the same mistakes and soaking up all we can from each day.” 

             
“You’re a wise woman,” Rose smiled.  “You sound just like my mama.”

             
“From all you’ve told me, I got a long ways to go to be like your mama.”

             
Rose didn’t contradict her.  Her mama, Old Sarah, had been the wisest, most loving woman she had ever known.  Not a day had passed since discovering she was pregnant that she hadn’t wished for her mama to be alive.  Rose longed for her baby to know her mama.  She longed for her strength and comfort.