Spring Will Come (13 page)

             
“I’m afraid the segments of our population interested in speculation are not very distressed at the idea of families’ starving.  Their priorities are on how much money they can make before that happens,” Janie responded angrily.

             
Carrie sighed as one more cruel reality of the war became clear to her.  She believed what her friend was saying, but from what she could tell, there was not yet a shortage of supplies.  Carrie stopped in front of one shop’s window and examined its contents.  Colorful bonnets rested on the legs of cavalry boots.  Bright ribbons adorned crossed rifles and dingy umbrellas.  There were loaves of bread, packages of food, gloves, packs of cards, prayer books, and canteens. 

             
Janie seemed to read her thoughts.  “Check out some of the prices.”

             
Carrie leaned forward to read the price on a can of coffee sitting temptingly toward the front.  “Four dollars!” she exclaimed.  “For coffee?  No wonder my father has given it up.”

             
“That’s just the beginning.  Good tea will cost between eighteen to twenty dollars a pound, butter almost two dollars.  Corn is fifteen dollars a barrel ,and wheat is four-fifty per bushel.”  Her voice hardened.  “It’s a crime.  These people have so many hardships already.  They have given so much.  If this war doesn’t end soon, there will be a lot of people starving.”

             
Carrie stared at her, her excitement over seeing Robert dimmed as she absorbed her friend’s grim words. 

             
Janie looked chagrined and reached out her hand to grab Carrie’s arm.  “I’m so sorry.  There is enough trouble in the world without talking about more.  I didn’t mean to spoil your day. Let’s move on.  Robert and the rest of the men will be here soon.”

             
Carrie allowed her friend to take her arm and move her up the street, but her thoughts were troubled.  Now she understood the things she had overheard her father’s boarders talking about a few nights ago.  She had only caught snatches of it, but she’d heard enough to realize even people in the government thought the fortunes of the Confederacy were declining.  The conditions in Richmond worsened daily.  Murders, looting, arson, and assault were reported by the press almost daily.  Such lawlessness, especially for native Richmonders who had never experienced it before, was very disturbing.  When joined with news of defeats and losses, uncontrollable inflation, and scare food, it was little wonder people were beginning to question what a just cause had to do with
this.
 

             
“Here they come, Carrie!”  Janie exclaimed and pulled her faster.

             
In spite of herself, Carrie felt her original excitement return.  Cheers began to swell from the crowd, and music blared forth from the band.  She leaned forward and caught her first glimpse of the horses moving up the street.  Where was Robert?

             
“Those poor men look exhausted,” Janie murmured.  “But aren’t they proud!” she added in delight.

             
Carrie smiled.  Janie was right.  Even the horses seemed to pick their heads up a little as the cheers swelled and soared over their heads.  She watched as men straightened their backs and held their heads high.  Suddenly she caught a glimpse of Robert on Granite.  His face was lined with fatigue, and she could tell Granite was tired, but their eyes were bright.  Her heart tightened with pride and love.  Suddenly she found herself cheering wildly with the rest.  She might not agree with this crazy war, but these men had done a noble, brave deed.  They deserved to have it recognized and applauded. 

             
As if he were able to pick her voice from the crowd, Robert turned and looked straight into Carrie’s eyes.  Tears filled her eyes as his face lit with a huge grin.  Suddenly his back was even straighter, his head a little higher.  Carrie’s heart swelled with tenderness. For all his bravery and courage, Robert still needed her love and approval.  Her mother had often told her there was a side to her father that would always be a little boy.  Carrie hadn’t understood it then.  Now she did.

CHAPTER FIVE

              Moses leaned back against a big oak tree and gnawed on the hardtack he had just pulled from his haversack.   It was easy to understand why the rock hard mixture of flour and water had been given the nickname of sheet-iron crackers.  Still, it was food.  He had never thought soldiering would be an easy job. 

             
“Hey!  Moses!”

             
Moses looked up as Joe, one of the men in his unit, sauntered up.  “Yes, sir?”  

             
Joe squatted down next to him.  “Captain Jones is asking for you.”

             
Without asking any questions, Moses stuffed his hardtack back into his haversack and rose easily. 

             
“Moses...”

             
Moses looked down at Joe and waited. 

             
“I just wanted to say thanks for helping us find fresh water.  A lot of the other men are real sick from the water.  Hanging out in this crazy swamp is going to kill more of them than all the Rebel guns together,” Joe said bitterly. 

             
Moses nodded.  “Bad water can do a man in.”  He had watched as scores of men dropped from typhoid and malaria.  Sickness was rampant in the camps. 

             
“How’d you know where to find it?”

             
“My daddy taught me when I was just a little kid.  Told me it might come in handy someday.”  He didn’t add that his daddy had told him he needed to know how to find good water in case he ever had a chance to escape.  His daddy had dreamed of freedom for as long as Moses could remember. 

             
“Is your father still alive?  Still on one of the plantations?”

             
All any of the soldiers knew was that Moses had lived on one of the plantations near Richmond.  They knew he had been accepted as a spy for the Union because he knew the area so well.  Moses had figured that was all they needed to know.  Now here was Joe asking questions.  He decided to take a chance and answer honestly.  “My daddy is dead.  Hung by the men who caught him when he was trying to escape.” There was no bitterness in his voice.  He had made peace with his past long ago. 

             
“I’m sorry,” Joe said simply.  “Slavery is a terrible thing.”

             
“Not all the Union soldiers feel that way.  From what I can tell, a lot of them think I should run on back to the plantation and be a good slave so this war can end.”

             
Joe shrugged.  “Different people feel different ways.  I know there are some Southerners who think slavery is an evil thing.  From what I can tell, it doesn’t matter what part of the country you’re from.  It’s what’s in your heart that counts.  There are some people who just want to feel power over other people.  I guess it makes them feel better about themselves if they have someone to look down on.”

             
Moses looked at him thoughtfully.  He had been right to trust Joe.  This was a man who thought things through.   He extended his hand.  “Thank you.”

             
Joe nodded and shook his hand firmly.  “The captain is waiting.”

             
Moses nodded and strode away.  The deep loneliness in his heart had been assuaged just a little.  He knew he had made a friend.  As he made his way through camp, he allowed his thoughts to focus on Rose.  Where was she?  What was she doing?  Was she safe?  Part of him longed for the days he and his beautiful wife had lived with Aunt Abby in Philadelphia.  They had been happy there.  Their new freedom had been worth all it took to accomplish it.  The miserable months of escape had faded into a dim memory. 

             
Then he looked around the camp and knew he was right where he was supposed to be.  He had worked hard to be accepted as one of the first black spies into the Union army.  He fully believed that one day black soldiers would help fight the war, but it was not now.  He was doing his best to show blacks could be valuable to the war effort.  Everyone must make sacrifices if any real changes were going to be made.  He could deal with loneliness as long as he knew he was making a difference.

             
Moses drew up short when he reached Captain Jones’ tent and saw his commander’s head bent over a piece of paper.   He didn’t want to interrupt him.

             
Captain Jones looked up when Moses’ shadow fell over him.  “Moses, thank you for coming.  Come in.”

             
Moses ducked his head and eased his massive frame into the tent.  “Yes, sir.”  Then he waited for the captain to speak. 

             
Captain Jones looked down at the sheet of paper for a few more minutes then lifted his head, stretched his long legs out in front of him, and settled back into his chair.  He reached for his pipe and took several long pulls while he stared out over the bustling activity of the camp.  “General McClellan needs more information.”

             
Moses leaned a little closer.  It had been almost two weeks since the Union had clashed with Confederate troops outside of Richmond.  Was General McClellan going to make his next move soon?  McClellan had claimed a glorious victory, but nothing had changed as far as Moses could tell.  Both armies were still stationed where they had been before the two days of fighting.  The only difference was that thousands of Union soldiers were horribly wounded, with many of them being transported by boat back to Washington’s hospitals.   If that was a glorious victory, then he surely didn’t want to see the results of a defeat. 

             
“McClellan wants more information from behind the Confederate lines.”

             
Moses continued to wait.  He would not respond until he knew what the captain had in mind.  He had learned a long time ago to listen as long as he could before he was forced to say something. 

             
“I have heard of other spies infiltrating the Confederate camps, finding out as much as they can, and then returning to our side.  I told McClellan that if anyone could do it, you could, Moses.”

             
“What do you have in mind?”  Moses fought to control the pounding of his heart.  Roaming the southern countryside with a unit of Union soldiers was one thing.  But going back alone, into the world that once held him captive, was another.

             
Captain Jones stared at him thoughtfully.  “I want you to sneak into a Rebel camp.  Live there for a week.  Find out as much as you can.  Numbers of soldiers, what their guns are like, what their plans are.  You’ve told me that Southerners tend to talk freely around their coloreds.”

             
“Yas sir, they figur’ us darkies ain’t got no mind of our own.”  Moses consciously slid back into the slave dialect he had fought so hard to discard.  Not many people in the South had any use for an educated black man.  If he was going undercover as a slave, he would have to work very hard to make sure he talked like one.

             
Captain Jones grinned appreciatively.  “You’ll do it then?”

             
Moses nodded.  “I told you I would do whatever I could to help the Union win.  If that means going back into slavery for a week, then so be it.”

             
“
Can
you do it, Moses?  You used to live around here.  There aren’t many men your size.  Your height and massive build are going to make you stand out.  What if someone recognizes you?  Rebels don’t take too kindly to slaves escaping and working for the enemy.”

             
“You’re not telling me anything I don’t know, sir.  I guess I’ll just have to take my chances.  When do I leave?”

             
“Tomorrow.”

             
Moses thought a moment.  “I’ll leave tonight.  It will be easier to sneak into the camps when it’s dark.”  He paused for a long moment.  “Can you do something for me, Captain?”

             
“Such as?”

             
“If I don’t come back -- will you get word to my wife, Rose?  I want her to know what happened.”  His heart caught at the idea of never seeing her again.  Had they gone through all they had to reach freedom, only to have it end up with him back in slavery – probably rotting in a prison or hanging from a noose?

             
“You have my word, Moses,” Captain Jones said in a rough voice.  Then he cleared his throat.  “This is nonsense.  You’ll be back.  I figure you have about a week, but if the action starts sooner, figure out a way to get across the lines and back to our side.”  His voice became brisk as he cleared some things away on his desk.  “Now, what do you need?”

             
Moses forced a grin.  “Don’t reckon as how I’ll be needin’ much, Massa Jones.  I sho be needin’ to get rid of dese here clothes, though.  Ain’t no slaves dress like this.  I be needin’ me somethin’ a bit more plain.”  He looked down ruefully at his blue pants and shirt.  It wasn’t a regular uniform, but it definitely identified him as a Union man.

             
“You’ll need to carry some kind of identification so you can cross back over to our side,” the captain protested.

             
Moses shook his head firmly.  “I won’t carry any identification, Captain, not behind southern lines anyway.  The papers I have right now will do just fine.  I’ll get rid of them when I need to.  Slave people don’t hesitate to search a Negro if they have even a glimmer of suspicion about them.  I’ll be hanging from a tree, for sure, if they find anything hooking me to the North.  No, sir,” he said, shaking his head again.  “I’ll figure out a way to get back here.  Right now I reckon I’ll just go rustle me up some clothes that be more fittin’ for a slave,” he drawled. 

             
Captain Jones’ laughter followed him as he moved easily away.  There was no answering smile on Moses’ face.  He would do what was necessary to help the Union, but he hadn’t figured on marching right back into slavery.

Moses started out as soon as it was dark enough to obscure his movements.  His plan was simple.  He would go several miles to the north in an attempt to reach the end of the lines.  Then he would circle back down on the southern side and let the Rebels discover him.  It was risky
, but it sounded a lot better than trying to sneak through lines where hundreds of guns waited in either direction.  Walking rapidly down a back road, he stayed deep in the shadows and fingered the identification he would carry until he left Union lines.   Thankfully the sky was heavy with clouds.  The full moon hiding behind their murky depths would not be able to betray him tonight. 

             
Two hours later, Moses figured he had gone far enough north.  Cutting west, he continued to walk rapidly until he reached a road he guessed would take him toward Richmond.  He could only hope he was well behind Confederate lines.  It was nothing but guesswork at this point.  He stopped beside a stream, pulled his identification papers from his pocket, and tore them into tiny pieces.  He leaned down and picked up a large rock, gripped the papers tightly, and then held his hand in the water until they were soaked through.  Water dripped from his fingers as he laid the papers in the shallow water on the edge of the stream and placed the rock over them securely.  Even if someone found them before they had a chance to disintegrate, it would be impossible to read them. 

             
Satisfied, Moses stood, looked around carefully, then continued his rapid walking.  He wanted to be within Confederate lines before the sky began to lighten.  He couldn’t appear to be skulking.  That would only make him look more suspicious.   As he walked, he allowed his mind to wander.  The idea of walking back into the slavery he had fought so hard to be free from sent a flood of memories rampaging through his mind. 

             
He would forever carry the image of his daddy hanging from a tree after he was caught during an escape attempt.  Just as he would always carry the image of his mama and sisters being separated from him and sold on the auction block in Richmond.  The same auction block that had landed him on Cromwell Plantation almost two years ago.  He had made a vow that day that he would find his mama and sisters some day and set them free.  His efforts now were part of that vow.  If his actions helped the Union win the war, one of the results might be freedom for slaves.

             
Moses scowled at that thought.  As far as he could tell, there weren’t too many Yankees who were fighting to free the slaves.  Sure, there were some like Joe who understood and hated slavery, but too many of them couldn’t care less what happened to slaves.  They just wanted to save the Union so that they could go home and continue living their lives.  If people in the South wanted to own slaves, that was their business.  Yet Moses still hung onto the hope that one of the eventual results of the war would be the freedom of his people.  It was the only reason he was willfully walking back into the life he had longed to escape.