Spring Will Come (14 page)

             
His thoughts swung to Carrie Cromwell.  He wished he had some way of knowing if she had indeed made it to the safety of Richmond after he had helped her escape the Union troops that had descended onto her plantation in search of food.  Thank goodness his captain had never figured out he had played a key role in her escape.  He had heard the stories of how Carrie had flown from the barn on Granite and then jumped a high fence to make good her escape.  Beyond that he had no idea whether she had made it to Richmond.  He had done everything within his power to help the friend who had made his escape from slavery possible.  He just wished there weren’t still so many questions. 

             
Then, as it always did, his mind turned to Rose.  The image of her beautiful face and slender body rose up to both soothe him and taunt him.  There was not a moment he did not miss her.  He carried the memory of her gentle voice and loving smile close to his heart. She had given him the courage to follow his dreams.  She had taught him to read and had given him a thirst for knowledge.  Her confidence in him was what kept him going.  Surely it would be all that would carry him through the week ahead. 

             
“Halt!  Who goes there!”  a stern voice shouted.

             
Moses jerked to a standstill and raised his hands above his head in submission.  “It just be ole Samuel,” he called out.  “I be lookin’ for my master.  You be knowin’ my master?”

             
He moved not an inch when three soldiers stepped from the woods.  The beating of his heart slowed when he recognized Confederate gray.  At least he was on the right side.  Now he would have to trust his wits. 

             
“What are you doing here, boy?” one soldier demanded in a hostile voice.  “Don’t you know I could put a bullet through you right now?  You must really be as stupid as you look!”

             
“He sure is a big one!” another of the soldiers whistled.  “Keep your guns on him, boys.”

             
“Y’all keep your guns on him,” another one, whom Moses quickly identified as the leader, snapped.  “I’m going to check our darkie here out.  Let’s see what he’s carrying on him.”

             
Moses thought with relief of the soaked papers buried under the rock a few miles back.  He managed to stand still as the soldier searched him thoroughly then stepped back to scowl at him.

             
“You don’t have papers of any kind, boy.”

             
“No, sir.  I know I don’t be havin’ no papers.  I had to come find my massa.  I know he be here fightin’.  He be needin’ me, sir.”

             
The soldier who had searched him laughed derisively.  “What does a soldier need from you, boy?”

             
Moses watched him carefully even while he kept the pleading look on his face and the whining tone in his voice.  He knew he was keeping the man off guard.  “Why, my massa been needin’ me all his life!” he exclaimed indignantly.  “I been takin’ care of him since he was a little thing.  There’s plenty I’s can be doin’.  He be needin’ someone to bring him his meals.  He be needin’ someone to keep an eye on thin’s while he tries to sleep.  I been hearin’ the horrible thin’s happenin’ on these here battlefields.”  Watching the men closely, he pulled himself up to his full height.  “I reckon this ain’t just be a war to be fought by the white man.  These Yankees be down here trying to take my home, too.  I reckon I need to be doin’ whatever I can to help!”

             
The three men stared at him for several long moments before the leader visibly relaxed.  “What’d you say your name is, boy?”

             
“Samuel.”

             
“Where are you from?”

             
Moses mind raced.  He was taking a big chance.  What if these three soldiers knew the area well?  He would have to trust that their strong accents meant they were from much farther south in cotton country.  “A plantation ‘bout forty miles from here.  A place called Crumpton.”

             
“How in the world did you get here?”

             
“I walked,” Moses stated proudly.  “I done walked all this way to find my massa.”

             
“Well, Samuel, my name is Mitchell Palmer.  And I’m afraid you aren’t going to find your master.”

             
“Why not?” Moses asked in alarm. 

             
“Do you know how many men are out here?”  Palmer laughed.  “Over eighty thousand the last I heard.  How are you planning to find him in this many men?”

             
Moses remained silent, allowing a look of confusion to play over his features before he hung his head to stare at the ground. 

             
Palmer continued, in a slightly kinder voice.  “Look, if you’re really wanting to help, then I guess we can find a place for you in our unit.”

             
“What!” one of the men exclaimed.  “You’re going to bring that slave into our unit?  Are you crazy?  He ain’t goin’ to be nothing but trouble.”

             
Palmer silenced the man with a glare.  “He sounds like a man who knows what side his bread is buttered on.  There is a lot of those wealthy plantation boys who have their slaves with them.  I’ve seen how easy these black boys make it for them.  I don’t see any reason I shouldn’t have some of those same benefits.  I always wanted to own a slave.  This may be my only chance.”  He paused and stared thoughtfully at Moses. 

             
Moses knew Palmer relished the idea of having power over him.  Let him relish whatever he wanted.  His little game was working just the way he wanted it to, so far.

             
“I say he comes,” Palmer stated with finality.

             
The other two men muttered and shook their heads but said no more. 

             
Then Palmer turned back to Moses, and his voice hardened.  “You give me any trouble, boy, and I’ll shoot you square between the eyes.  I’ve killed a lot of Yankees, and I sure won’t have any trouble killing you.  You’ve put yourself on a battlefield with your crazy ideas of looking for your master.  As far as I’m concerned, you’re nothing but a runaway slave.   And that means someone might come looking for you.  Give me any trouble, and I’ll make sure they only have a corpse to carry away.”

             
“Yessir!”  Moses said eagerly.  “I ain’t gonna cause no trouble.  You’ll see.  You’ll be mighty glad you let me come along!”

             
“Yeah.  I better be,” Palmer said as he swung around.  “Let’s go.  Our guard time is up.”

“Moses!  Bring me some fresh coffee,” Palmer snapped. 

              “Yessir!”  Moses responded as he jumped to his feet and moved toward the fire.  Only one more night he reminded himself.  He forced down the anger surging through him at the degradation and humiliation he had suffered during the previous six days, and fixed a submissive look on his face as he carried the coffee pot to where Palmer lounged against the tree.  

             
Palmer, in spite of the fact he had never owned slaves, had moved easily into his role of master.   Moses had watched him carefully all week long.  He seemed like a basically decent man.  He showed consideration and respect for the men around him, and they looked up to him.   He treated Moses like a piece of meat.  Moses had watched slave owners long enough to understand what was going on.  Ownership of another human being required a certain deadening of the soul.  Slave owners had to forego some of their own humanity when they took away another’s.  It hardened them.  It gave them a sense of power but required a dehumanizing of the one they held power over.

             
“Here you is, sir.  Can I be gettin’ you anythin’ else?”  Moses asked quietly. 

             
“Yeah.  I left my hardtack in the sack on my horse.  Get it for me.”

             
“Yes, sir.”  Moses was glad to escape into the darkness of the night.  It allowed him to relax his vigilance.  Only under cover of darkness could he allow the studied submissiveness to leave his face.  Just one week back in bondage had left him wondering how he had ever endured all the years of slavery before he and Rose had escaped.  It took every bit of effort he had not to release the anger he felt when they treated him as if he was just a stupid animal. 

             
Nonetheless, he had gained valuable information to bring back to Captain Jones.  He had listened carefully as the soldiers discussed what they knew of the defense of Richmond.  Moses walked toward the horses as he allowed the information he had gleaned to flow through his mind.  He knew General Lee was working hard to dig in around Richmond - to build fortifications and breastworks to withstand the attack the Confederates were sure would come soon.  He had managed to hide his amusement when the soldiers returned from a hard day of digging, complaining bitterly about the “King of Spades,” as they called their new commander.  He hadn’t minded all the digging he did for Palmer because the soldiers talked as they dug.  By listening carefully, he had managed to gain some idea of the strength of the Confederate forces, and he was convinced McClellan had the power to take on the South.  Tomorrow morning he would carry his report back to the captain.  His job would be done. 

             
“Easy, fellows.” Moses talked soothingly to the horses as he stepped up to Palmer’s big bay gelding and pulled out the hardtack and salt pork he found there.  Holding it, he turned to stare into the woods.  Would he be able to cross over the next day?  He had avoided the question all week, knowing he would lose his ability to listen and concentrate if he was focused on crossing back to the Union side.  Now it could no longer be avoided.  His only hope was to wait until late that night and pray everyone was asleep as he stole out of camp.  He would try to go around the lines in an attempt to return in the same way he had accomplished his entry onto the Confederate side, but if his attempt failed he would be forced to push through the lines and pray he wasn’t shot.  He thought longingly of the shredded paper beneath the rocks but pushed the thoughts aside.  It had been necessary to destroy his identification.  He would just have to trust God to get him back safely.

             
Moses took a deep breath and turned back to camp.  It was time to get back.  Now was not the time to arouse suspicion.   He had almost reached the circle of light when he heard a voice that stopped him dead in his tracks. 

             
“I got a message for you boys,” a voice rang out.  “The colonel said to prepare three days rations.”

             
Moses knew what that meant.  A battle was imminent.  Now he really did have to get over the lines - or risk being caught in the battle.  None of that seemed important right now, though.  It was the voice itself that made his blood run cold - and boil with fury.

             
“What’s going on, Adams?”  Palmer asked.

             
“All I know is what I just told you.  Prepare three days rations.”

             
“Why’d they send you to tell us?  Where is the colonel’s aide?”

             
“Busy I guess.  How would I know?  How would I know anything?  I shouldn’t even be here fighting this stupid war.  This whole conscription thing is a violation of my Southern rights,” Adams said bitterly.  “I ain’t even supposed to be fighting.  I’m an overseer.  My job is on the plantation controlling the niggers.”

             
“From all I’ve heard, you lost your job on the plantations.  Been hunting runaway slaves for a while,” Palmer said sarcastically.  “Besides, I don’t know that you’re any better than the rest of us.  There’s a war going on, in case you didn’t know.  It takes real men to fight a war.”

             
Moses could imagine the fury tightening Ike Adams’ face as Palmer taunted him.  In spite of his fear, he allowed himself a small smile.  It vanished quickly.  Palmer was going to notice he hadn’t returned in just a few minutes.  But there was no way he could step out into the firelight.  Adams would recognize him in a heartbeat, and then it would all be over.  Not only his mission - he knew it would be the end of his life.  There was not a Rebel around who would not be eager to hang a black man serving as a spy for the Union, especially after Adams told the story of how Moses had disposed of him on the side of the road.