Storm Clouds Rolling In (56 page)

Carrie continued to rest her head on his chest.
Moving slightly, she allowed her arms to encircle his lean waist. She needed his comfort and strength so badly. They stood that way for a long time. On the river, a stronger breeze was kicking up whitecaps, turning the azure water a steely gray.

“Carrie...”
Robert’s voice caught and he cleared his throat roughly. “Carrie, I need to tell you something.”

Carrie suddenly began to feel uncomfortable.
There was something in his voice. She began to pull back so that she could see his face, but his arms tightened to hold her where she was. She waited to see what he would say.

Robert took a deep breath.
“Carrie, I’ve known from the first day I met you that I love you.” His voice was strong and confident. “I—”

“Stop.”
Carrie pushed herself away and reached up a soft hand to touch his lips.

“But why?” Robert protested.
“I—”

Again, Carrie raised her hand to stop him.
“Give me time,” she pleaded softly. “There is so much going on right now. So much to deal with...” Her voice trailed off as she looked up at him in mute appeal. He would be hurt by the suggestion that his love was just one more thing to deal with, but their dreams were so different. They were miles apart on critical issues.

Robert gazed at her.
Finally, he nodded. “All right, Carrie. But, someday...”

Carrie smiled in gratitude.
“Someday,” she agreed.

Robert forced a smile.
“If we don’t want to be very wet soon, we’d better head back.”

Carrie turned and saw the dark bank of clouds scudding their way.

“Oh, my goodness!” She watched, fascinated, as the increasing wind whipped up higher waves on the James and then turned to where Granite waited patiently.
In moments they were on their way. When she reached the edge of the clearing, she turned for one final look. This would always be her most favorite place on earth. She hated to think that anything could ever separate her from it.

“Hey, Moses!”

“Yeah, Sam?” Moses turned from where he was mending some boards that had torn away from the well house during a storm the week before.

“Miss Carrie just came down and said her
mama be running a mite of fever again. She asked me to bring up a tub of ice from the ice house, but I done pulled somethin’ in my back this mornin’. I need you to take it up to her.”

Moses nodded and turned away.
“I’ll have it right there, Sam.” Moses smiled slightly. This would be the first time he would see the inside of the big house. Field servants didn’t usually have a reason to be there. It only took a few minutes to fill the tub.

Sam chuckled as he opened the backdoor for him.
“I wish you was around all the time. You make that heavy tub look light as a baby. Those arms of yours look more like tree trunks.”

Moses smiled and headed in the direction Sam pointed.
Just as he reached the doorway he saw Mr. Cromwell and Robert, deep in conversation, walk up the stairway.

Moses was close behind them, but they didn’t notice.

“Remember what I told you on the train, Robert?”

Robert chuckled.
“What I remember is that you
almost
told me something on the train,” he said dryly.

Thomas smiled in return and then grew sober.
“You’ll soon understand why I couldn’t say anything. I’ve decided it’s time, though. I may not get another chance, and I want someone else to know the secret.”

Moses raised his eyebrows and walked a little quieter.
They still hadn’t noticed him. At the top of the stairs, he turned the way Sam had told him and carried the tub into Mrs. Cromwell’s room.
     “Thank you, Sam,” Carrie murmured, not looking up from applying cold rags to her mama’s head. “I won’t need anything else for a while.”

Moses turned and left.
He could hear the murmur of voices down the hall. Moses turned toward the voices, making no sound as he crept forward. He knew he would be beaten if he were found. He just knew something was pulling him forward—making the risk worth taking. When he was close enough to hear the voices clearly, he cocked his head and listened intently. A startled look, and then an admiring smile appeared on his dark face. He heard the sound of footsteps and glided silently back down the hall. He was in the kitchen before Thomas and Robert emerged from Carrie’s room.

Robert’s face had a serious, slightly awestruck look.
“Thank you for trusting me sir. I will not betray your confidence.”

“I have no doubt of that young man, or I wouldn’t have told you.
I hope you never need to know it, but if you do…”

“I’m sorry to have to leave so soon, sir.”

“That was a long way to ride for just one day,” Thomas observed.

“It was worth it,” Robert stated quietly.
He looked up at the room above him where he knew Carrie was with her mother. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

TWENTY-SEVEN

“Cromwell giving you the boot, Adams?”

Ike Adams shot Jennings a withering look. “Not on yer life. He knows he can’t run that plantation without me,” he boasted. He saw no reason to tell the truth. Thomas Cromwell had not been himself since his wife had taken ill. He had merely frowned and nodded his head when Adams had reported he had experienced no luck finding the slaves. His wife had called out then, and he had turned back into the house without another word.

Adams was a mean man, but he wasn’t entirely without feelings.
He felt bad that Cromwell’s wife was so sick. He also couldn’t help being glad it had gotten him through a rough spot. Blackwell had fired Manson when he had returned without his slaves and hired another overseer who he said could control his people. “What happened to Manson?” he asked suddenly.

Jennings shrugged his shoulders and scowled.
“Headed farther south. Somewhere in Mississippi, I think.”

Adams merely nodded and tipped his whiskey bottle back.
He knew he shouldn’t be drinking. Losing the Cromwell slaves should have taught him that. But what was a man to do when the whole world was going crazy? Get drunk. Nothing else made any sense.

“Miss Carrie?”

A broad smile spread across Carrie’s face as she reached for the thick envelope Sam was holding out to her. She tucked it into her pocket, glanced over at her sleeping mother and ran downstairs. Once outside, she headed straight for the porch swing.

Dear Carrie,

                            By the time you get this, it should be around the middle of October.

Carrie leaned her head back against the porch and smiled.
She could almost see Aunt Abby’s calm eyes looking into her own. Their correspondence had become a lifeline for her. And Aunt Abby was right. Today was October the fourteenth. Brisk, cool air had settled onto the land, the fields were all harvested, and the slaves were busy at work mending buildings and tools before they were put away for the winter.

It was so wonderful to get your last letter, though I am sorry to hear your mother is not doing any better.
I am praying daily that she will have a renewed desire to live. I also pray for your own strength and courage. I know your head is probably full of questions you want to ask God when you get to heaven...

How right she was!
None of the present situation made any sense to Carrie. Daily she watched her mother waste away and she saw the lines of worry and despair deepen on her father’s face. She sighed and turned back to her letter.

Don’t be afraid to tell God what you think. He’s big enough to take it you know. Besides, he already knows what you’re thinking and feeling. You are not alone down there. You can always talk to God.

             
Carrie frowned as she read that part. She would have to think about that later. She had been too tired to think about God much, especially when he seemed so detached from her life.

Life here in Philadelphia is as busy as usual.
I saw Matthew Justin recently. He sends warm greetings to you. He also related an interesting experience he had. At one of his political functions he ran into Dr. Harriet Hunt. I have told you about her and her medical school here in Philadelphia. They had quite an interesting chat and Matthew shared with her about you and your dream. Her response was that she would welcome you jumping into the fray. The water is a little brisk, but just right for those who have a strong heart! I know you despair of your dream, Carrie, but hang on. We can never know, and hardly ever understand, the path God has us walk on our way to our dreams.

My work with the
society is keeping me extremely busy. More and more passengers are riding the railroad. I understand our activities are creating quite a stir in the South. That is to be expected, but I find myself greatly troubled that anger over activities such as mine are adding to the South’s determination to withdraw from our glorious Union. Yet, I cannot turn away from those who want to be free—who deserve to be free. Daily I fight the battle with my conscience. I can only hope that I am indeed doing God’s work.