Dark Chaos (# 4 in the Bregdan Chronicles Historical Fiction Romance Series) (74 page)

             
Matthew ached for his friend and wondered what he could say.  He was afraid Robert’s appraisal of the situation was correct.

             
Robert shook his head.  “Enough about me.  I’ll get off my pity party,” he said, forcing a light tone into his voice.  “I have all the things that are truly important.  I’ll face the future when it gets here.  I learned a long time ago that the things we fear are not nearly so bad when we actually meet them face to face.”

             
Matthew thought about the prison and found himself disagreeing.  The prison had been every bit as bad as he had feared.  Yet it was behind him.  He had to let go of his fears and face the future with courage.

             
“What next?” Robert asked.

             
“Back to the newspaper,” Matthew said.  “That is once I get on the other side of the Union line.”  He stared out at the overhanging trees.  “I promised the men still at Libby Prison that when I got out I would tell their story.  Sometimes the first step in stopping atrocities is bringing them to light.  I intend to do that.”

             
“And after that?”

             
“I’ll always be a newspaper man.  It’s what I’ve always wanted to do.  I guess it’s in my blood.”

             
“You’re lucky,” Robert said.  “No matter what happens with this war, you’ll always have a job.  You’ll always have something to do.”

             
“And you’ll always have Carrie,” Matthew reminded him.  “You’re lucky, too.”

             
Robert glanced over and smiled.  “So get off my pity party.  Is that what you’re saying?”

“Take it any way you like, old friend.”  Matthew thought for a moment then added, “When I was stuck down in Rat Dungeon I had a lot of time to think.  I thought about what would happen if I finally got out of prison and one of the newspapers wanted me.”

              “Right,” Robert scoffed.

             
“It could happen,” Matthew insisted.  “It would be plenty difficult, but I realized that if one door was to close for me, God would open another one.  I finally decided it would be all right.”

             
Robert listened intently.  “I guess time will tell,” he finally murmured.

             
“Will you have to fight again?” Matthew asked.

             
“Yeah,” Robert said.  “This war is far from over.  The South needs men too badly.  I’m healthy.  I’ll fight again.”

             
“You know the South will lose, don’t you?”  Matthew asked carefully, hoping his friend wouldn’t get angry.  He saw a spark ignite then die just as quickly.

             
“I know.” Robert sighed.  “I talked with a man last night who believed if we could just hang on that the North would get tired of the war and vote Lincoln out of office.  Then we could be an independent country.”

             
“You didn’t go for it?”

             
“Oh, it sounded good at the time, but I don’t really believe it’s true.”

             
“It’s not,” Matthew agreed.  “There is plenty of disagreement about how the war is being fought and there are lots of people sick of it, but very few are thinking about throwing in the towel.  Especially after things turned around last fall.”  He paused.  “The North is not going to sleep until there is complete victory.”

             
Robert stared at him.  “And what is that going to mean for us?” he demanded.  “I’ve heard different things about the plan for Lincoln’s so-called Reconstruction.  The North may have conquered our country; that doesn’t mean they have captured our people’s hearts.”

             
“I know,” Matthew said sadly.  “Reconstruction is that black hole of the future you’re talking about.  There was a wild gulf between our countries before this war started.  Now the gulf is even wider.  Somehow we must all find a way to bridge it.”

             
Robert grunted.  “Good luck.  I fear the war may end, but the fighting will go on for a long time.  You can beat a people into submission, but you can’t stop the flame in their hearts.”

             
“Including yours?” Matthew asked softly.  “Is the flame still burning?”

             
“It comes and goes,” Robert admitted.  “I’m trying to imagine rebuilding my life with the North as victors, but I can’t say it’s easy.  Carrie keeps telling me to take it one day at a time – that’s all any of us can handle.  I’m trying.”

              It was just after noon when the carriage finally rattled down the drive to Cromwell Plantation.  Matthew gazed at the grand house, his heart once more swept with memories.

             
“What a place!” Peter exclaimed.

             
The door opened, and Sam stepped out onto the porch while shading his eyes to see who was coming.

             
“Hello, Sam,” Robert called immediately, so as not to alarm him.

             
Sam stepped to the edge of the porch, and then his eyes opened wide.  “Is that you, Mr. Borden?  Robert Borden?”

             
“It is.  I know it’s been a while.  I’m surprised you remembered me.”

             
“Once I knew Miss Carrie loved you I burned your face in my memory.”  Sam turned to Matthew.  “Ain’t I see you somewhere before?”

             
“It’s Matthew Justin, Sam.  I spent Christmas here a few years back.”

             
Sam peered at him.  “What happened to you, boy?  You don’t look so good.”

             
Matthew laughed.  “Prison life doesn’t seem to have done me much good.”

             
Sam walked off the porch and approached the carriage.  “That be Granite, sure ‘nuff,” he murmured.  The old man stroked the horse’s head.  “I wadn’t sure I would ever see this big horse again.”  He sniffed.

             
“We need a favor, Sam,” Robert said.

             
Sam turned away from Granite.  “I didn’t figure you be just droppin’ in for a visit.  What you be needin’?  I do anything for Miss Carrie’s husband.”

          Matthew walked out onto the porch of the large mansion, breathed in the fresh air, and enjoyed the warm sunshine on his face.  It had only been four days since Robert had left them and returned to Richmond, but he could already feel new life and energy flowing back into his body.  His flesh was starting to fill out and his hacking cough was better.  The plan was to stay here for two weeks, build their strength up, and then try to get through to Fort Monroe.

             
The sudden sound of hoof beats alerted him.  He jumped up from the swing and ducked back into the front door.  “Company,” he called.

             
Sam was beside him in an instant.  “You get a look?”

             
“No, I just heard them.”

             
“You and Peter get on down to the basement.  I’ll take care of things up here.”  Sam paused.  “You know how to disappear if you need to.”

             
Matthew nodded as Peter appeared beside him.  “Company,” he said.  “Let’s go.”  They strode down the hall quickly, hearing the clump of booted feet on the porch just as they ducked their heads underneath the cobwebs and descended into the dark basement.  Matthew felt his way toward the lantern and lit it, keeping the flame low.

             
“Why are we down here?” Peter protested.  “If those are Rebel soldiers and they start searching, we don’t have anywhere to go.  We’ll be sitting ducks!”

             
Matthew just held his finger to his lips.  He hadn’t told Peter the secret yet.  The Cromwell family secret would stay just that unless there was a need.  Carrie had given him a note to give Sam.  When he had handed it to him to the day after Robert left, the old man had merely raised his eyebrows.  The next day, while Peter was sleeping, he had shown Matthew the tunnel. 

             
Matthew could hear muted voices, but he couldn’t make out any words.  He ground his teeth in frustration.  Suddenly the clomping of boots drew closer, and one voice rang above the rest.  “We have our orders.  We’re going to search.”

             
“Oh, no,” Peter groaned, looking around frantically.

             
Matthew grabbed his arm and pulled him in the direction of the bookshelves.  Seconds later they were encased in the tunnel.  Matthew grinned when he raised the lantern and illuminated Peter’s face.  “I told you everything would be all right,” he whispered.

             
Peter just shook his head, his eyes wide in amazement.  “This is something.”  He opened his mouth to say more but snapped it shut again when they heard the basement door slam open.

             
Matthew turned off the lantern, unsure whether the faint light would glimmer through the crack.  Total darkness embraced them as two men descended to the basement to talk.

             
“You really think some of them could be here?” one of them said.

             
“I think they could be anywhere,” another deeper voice growled.  “All I know is we have orders to search every building between here and Union lines.”

             
“Must be a bit embarrassing to lose over a hundred men out of one of the most dreaded prisons in the South,” the first man said.  There was a brief silence.  “I don’t see anything, and there sure isn’t anywhere to hide down here.  Not unless they’ve buried themselves under cobwebs.”

             
“I wouldn’t put anything past those men who built that tunnel,” the second man said, a tinge of admiration in his voice.  “The commander of Libby Prison is fit to be tied.  Took most of his guards and had them thrown into Castle Thunder.  Said there was no way those men could have gotten out unless the guards had been bought off.”

             
“Yeah, well, twenty-five of them have already been brought back.”  There was more heavy stomping.  “Let’s get out of here.  We’ll go see if any of the other men found someone.”

             
Matthew waited until the door had closed then relit his lantern.  He and Peter stared at each other.  “A hundred men?” Matthew finally said in amazement.  “There must have been a mass exodus.”  His shoulders shook with laughter as he imagined men swarming like ants through the tunnel they had worked so hard to build.

             
“I wonder who they’ve caught,” Peter said.  “I pity them, whoever they are.”

             
Matthew sobered instantly.  Visions of Anderson, Sprinkler, Wilson, and the others rose in his mind.

             
“Sure does my heart good to think of those guards in Castle Thunder,” Peter said in a more cheerful voice.  “Won’t hurt them to feel what we did for a while.  Maybe it will make them more human…”  His voice trailed away as if he didn’t believe it; then he waved his arm in the air.  “You want to tell me where this place came from?  You seem to have a monopoly on tunnel escapes.”

             
Matthew told him what he knew.  “Carrie was determined to give us as much of a chance as possible,” he finished, his voice thick with emotion.

             
“You say this tunnel goes out to the river?” Peter asked thoughtfully.

             
“Yeah.  Why?”

             
“Let’s not walk to Fort Monroe,” Peter said suddenly.  “Let’s go down the river.”

             
“Can’t,” Matthew said promptly.  “Moses took the only boat still around here.  I checked.”

             
Peter was undaunted.  “We’ll make our own.”  He leaned closer, his eyes bright.  “I lived on a river in New York when I was a kid.  I didn’t move to the city until later.  My brothers and I used to make rafts all the time.  Sometimes we would spend up to a whole week floating down the river.”