Spring Will Come (32 page)

             
Coming for to carry me home.

             
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.

              Rose smiled, holding back her tears, as she raised her voice to sing along with the children.  Images of Moses, tall and strong, filled her mind.  That had been their song during the long months of escape.  Many a time it had given them strength to carry on.   Oh, how she wished she could share this moment with Moses.  Where was he?  What was he doing?  When would she see him again?

Moses wiped the sweat from his face and swatted at the mosquitoes attacking the exposed parts of his body as he pushed through the overgrowth along the river.   Even in the darkness, the murky humidity pulled at him, soaking and coaxing the life from his body.  Tree limbs whipped his face and body while thorns pierced his flesh.  His face was set with determination as he forged on. 

              Moses had not planned on traveling only at night, but it was the only way he felt safe.  There were too many Confederate soldiers scouting the area.  The first few days heading south he had spent hiding in the bushes, never knowing when a small scouting party would appear around a curve.  So far he had been lucky.  Whether it was the strike of a horseshoe against a rock or a muffled snort, he had always been able to duck from sight.  The Rebels must be reconnoitering the area to determine McClellan’s next move.  Captain Jones must have been right.  The general was in no hurry to follow Lincoln’s order.  Still, he would have to move his army soon.  Moses wasn’t sure whether that would complicate his life or make it easier. 

             
He was just as leery of running into Union troops.  Like before, he had gotten rid of his Union identification.  It was simply too dangerous to have on him.   But there was no guarantee how the Federals would treat him either.  His chances were better, but he wasn’t interested in playing the odds.  There was always the chance he would encounter Federal soldiers who didn’t like blacks any more than the Rebels did. 

             
After three days of mostly hiding in the bushes, he realized he would have to limit his travel to night hours.   His frustration mounted daily.  His supply of hardtack had run out after a few days, and finding food at night was much more difficult.  He had grown sick of blackberries. 

             
Moses had no idea how much ground he had covered before the sun began to lighten the horizon.  It would be time to find his hiding place for the day soon.  Stretching his aching back and legs, he slid down the bank into the river while closing his eyes in ecstasy as the cool water closed over his body.  He lay in the water quietly, allowing it to restore some of his energy. 

             
The sun had pinkened the sky when he pulled himself onto a tree trunk stretching out over the water.  He reached into his haversack, pulled out a tin cup, and filled it time and time again, drinking thirstily.   Then he carefully filled his canteen.  He might not have water again until dark.  He would have to horde it.  Moses turned toward the bank and then stopped, the spectacle before him rooting him in place. 

             
As the sun slipped its way onto the painting of a new day, it spread its signature in bold strokes across the sky.  Clouds were highlighted in orange and purple; the surrounding sky turned a bright azure blue.  Low lying mist over the river caught the colors and threw them back at the sky, swirling in a dance of greeting for the sun.  A soft breeze rippled the water while a chorus of birds sang greeting to a new day. 

             
“Good morning to you, too, Lord,” Moses said quietly, reverence filling his heart.  Along with the reverence came a fresh sense of peace.  If God could create a painting such as the one he was looking at, then surely He could handle helping him find his little sister.  His body relaxed as he stared at the sky.  He didn’t move an inch until the colors began to fade. 

             
A shout from down river caused him to stiffen and then move imperceptibly toward the bank.  He had just slipped into the cover of the brush when the first boat appeared around the curve of the river.  The sound of men’s voices floated clearly across the water.

             
“McClellan is on the move!” one man crowed. 

             
“Yep.  That dirty Yankee and his army of scoundrels are tucking tail and running for good.  I reckon those folks in Richmond will be able to sleep a lot more peaceful now.”

             
Moses leaned forward, determined not to miss a single word. 

             
“The man I talked to said Harrison’s Landing looks like a giant mud flat.”

             
Anger tinged his companion’s words.  “Yeah. They said the old manor house might as well be burned.  It won’t ever be the same.”

             
“The owner is ready for some Yankee blood, that’s for sure,” one chortled.  “Seems he left orders to have the place burned when he evacuated, but his slaves didn’t do it.  He hates thinking the Yankees used his home for their hospital.”

             
Their words floated on the breeze and then were gone.  Moses watched as the boat eased from sight, the paddles flashing in the sun.  McClellan’s army was gone.  He, himself, had been gone a little more than a week.  The peace he had been feeling just minutes before evaporated with the mist.  His fists clenched in frustration.  He had to figure out a way to determine where he was.  He had no way of knowing where Saunders’ plantation was.  He would have to take the risk and ask someone. 

             
Suddenly the idea of hiding in the bushes for a whole day seemed impossible.  If he was going to rescue June, he would have to take the chance of being caught.  Five weeks had seemed like an eternity when Captain Jones had offered it.  Now he was seeing it in the light of reality – it would be a struggle to make it back in time.  Besides, he had to find something to eat besides fruit if he was to have the strength to keep going.  Muttering a prayer under his breath, Moses continued his way down the river and ignored his fatigue.  At least it was easier going in daylight.  He could see the branches before they slapped him in the face, and there were not as many mosquitoes.  He was making better time - wherever he was. 

             
Moses planned as he walked.  He would get as far as possible in the light.  Then he would creep inland and look for some slaves to give him information.  He looked down at his clothes and grinned.  No one would confuse him with a Union soldier.  His clothes were stained with mud and dust as well as torn in several places from the brambles. 

             
Suddenly Moses jerked to a halt, staring around him.   His pulse quickened as he realized what he was looking at.  A wide grin spread across his face as he turned inland.  Cromwell Plantation!  He was sure he had passed it during one of the long nights.   The idea of slinking in to visit his friends had crossed his mind, but the need for speed had chased it out again.  His brow creased as he realized he had not been making as good of time as he thought.  He knew he had been moving slowly, but he hadn’t thought his floundering in the night had cost him that much.   His lips tightened as he strode forward.  He had wasted too much time.

             
Caution kept him in the trees.  He had no idea what to expect.  Union troops had destroyed other homes along the river.  Had they set fire to Cromwell?  Would he find any of his old friends?  Would he find anyone to help him?  Pushing down the questions, Moses concentrated on approaching the slave quarters undetected.  It seemed like just minutes before he was pushing aside the brush and peering out onto his old home.  What he saw made his face split in a wide grin.  Opal! 

             
Moses stood slowly and eased from his cover and stood quietly in the shade.  It was just moments before Opal looked up.   Time stood still as she stared, shook her head, rubbed her eyes then stared again.  “Hello, Opal,” Moses said with a smile.

             
“Moses!  Glory be!  Moses!”  Opal cried, running forward.  “I can’t believe my eyes.  Is it really you?” 

             
Moses put a finger to his grinning lips.  “I’d just as soon the whole world not know I’m here.”

             
Opal slapped her hand to her mouth.  “Of course not!” she whispered.  Then she wrapped her arms around him in a big hug.  “Glory be.  It’s great to see you!”  She stopped suddenly, her eyes wide.  “What are you doing here?  Are you in trouble?  Some kind of spy mission?”

             
Moses shook his head.  “Are there any soldiers here?”

             
“What kind?”

             
“Any kind!” he exclaimed then relaxed as he saw the smile playing on Opal’s lips.  She was teasing him - she hadn’t changed a bit. 

             
“There aren’t any soldiers here, Moses.  You’re safe.  The soldiers took all the food they needed in the spring.  The only food we have here now is what we’re growing ourselves.  But we’re doing fine.  A lot better than the folks in Richmond,” she said then frowned.  “Have you seen Carrie?  Is she all right?”

             
“I don’t know.  I haven’t seen her since I left her in the tunnel.”

             
“You think she made it to Richmond?”

             
“Carrie is a resourceful young lady.  If anyone could have made it, she did.”  He changed the subject.  “Is Sam still here?”  He was pretty sure the old butler was the only one who could help him. 

             
Opal nodded.  “Everyone is still here who was here two months ago.  We’ve all decided the whole world has gone so crazy we might as well stay put.  At least we know we can eat and the Union army doesn’t seem to want to harm us.”

             
“Most of them are good men,” Moses agreed.  “Just be careful.  Some of them hate blacks as much as any Southerner does.”

             
“That’s what Sam told me,” Opal said with a wise look.  “Said hatred isn’t just northern or southern.”

             
Moses smiled.  The old man was still as sharp as ever.  He was suddenly eager to see Sam again.  “Is he in the house?”  When Opal nodded, he took off at a jog.  Memories flooded him as he ran up the driveway - riding up the night Cromwell had bought him, cramped in the back of an open wagon; seeing Rose for the first time; Old Sarah helping him let go of his hate...  When the big house broke into view, Moses slowed to a walk. 

             
An old man, his bearing erect, his eyes sharp, appeared on the porch.  Moses continued to walk forward until a wide grin spread on the man’s face. 

             
“Moses!  It’s good to see you, boy.”

             
Moses laughed loudly.  Sam’s voice was as casual as if they saw each other daily.  Only his eyes revealed his pleasure.  “Hello, Sam.  It’s good to see you, too.”  He paused.  “I don’t have much time.”

             
“Somethin’ tells me you didn’t just show up for a social visit,” Sam drawled. 

             
Moses sank down on the step.  “I’m looking for a man named Saunders.  Actually I’m looking for his plantation.  All I know is it’s somewhere south about fifty miles from Richmond.”             

             
Sam nodded.  “That would be old Joshua Saunders.  Owns Millstone Plantation.”

             
Moses’ pulse quickened.  He’d come to the right place.  “You know where it is?” he asked eagerly. 

             
Sam nodded again.  “You don’t look like you’ve eat for a while, boy.  Why don’t I be tellin’ you how to get there over some food?”

             
Minutes later, Moses was shoveling hot food into his mouth.  He didn’t think he’d ever tasted anything so good.  After weeks of hardtack and beans then nothing but fruit, the steaming vegetables and hot cornbread were delicious.   He could feel life pour back into his body as plate after plate disappeared beneath him.  Not until he was full did he look around.  “How do you like being lord of the manor?”