The Last, Long Night (#5 in the Bregdan Chronicles Historical Fiction Romance Series) (15 page)

What about Moses?  Rose?  Matthew?  She was able to communicate fairly regularly with Rose so she felt better about her, but the reality of Moses and Matthew on or near the battlefield was a constant weight on her heart and mind.

Abby sighed heavily as her thoughts spun in the spring heat. 

“That was a mighty heavy sigh, Mrs. Livingston,” her driver observed, turning to smile back at her.

Abby managed to return the smile.  “I suppose it was, Cyrus.  I have a lot on my mind.”  She had developed a solid liking for her driver who had escaped a plantation in Mississippi and found his way to the capital in 1862 when the city outlawed slavery, even before the Emancipation Proclamation.  For the first couple years, he had worked on the fortifications until he had enough money to buy a horse and carriage.  Now he transported the endless stream of people flowing in and out of the city. 

“Are you glad to be here, Cyrus?”

“I reckon I am,” he said easily as he gazed around.  “I know this city still be pretty rough.  Not enough of the streets be paved, and I know things don’t smell so good because they don’t collect the garbage enough, but I reckon it’s better than being a slave.”

Not to mention the swarms of mosquitos breeding in dank canals and sewers, nor the poor ventilation in most public buildings
, Abby added silently as she gazed around at the struggling city.

Cyrus clucked to the horses and then continued, “I reckon I got things a whole heap easier than all them men fighting this here war.  Them hospitals seem to be full all the time, and I hear things didn’t go so good for our boys down around Richmond.”

Abby grimaced.  She’d heard the numbers too. 

“It be true about that amendment to the Constitution?” Cyrus asked suddenly, his intense eyes belying his casual tone.

“Well, I can tell you the process to make the Thirteenth Amendment part of our Constitution has begun,” Abby said, bringing her mind back to the main reason she was willing to endure this season in Washington.

“It really gonna ban slavery?” Cyrus asked hopefully.

“Yes,” Abby said firmly.  “Lincoln is solidly committed to the abolition of slavery.”

“Yessum,” Cyrus agreed, “but do you reckon Lincoln gonna be president again?  If he ain’t, do you still figure that amendment gonna happen?”

“That’s the question of the day,” Abby admitted.  “Lincoln is a good man.  I hate to think what will happen in our country if he’s not re-elected, but the war is going badly, and people need someone to blame.”

“You don’t blame him?”

“No,” Abby replied instantly.  “I blame all the non-thinking hotheads on both sides that made this happen far before Lincoln became president.  I’m sure he’s made mistakes along the way, but he was thrust into a war no one ever imagined would become the horror it has become.”

“So you don’t think he’ll be president again?”

“I don’t know what to think, but I do believe it’s too early to know.  People are sick of the war.  They’re sick of losing so many of our boys and men.  They’re sick of what it means for their families.  But people are funny - if we start winning this war, feelings will change.  Men will still die in horrific numbers, but if we start
winning
and the end is in sight, people’s feelings will change.  Lincoln will stand a chance then.”

“You know about that thing that happened out in Montana, Mrs. Livingston?”

Abby looked at Cyrus sharply.  “How in the world did you hear about all that?”

“I learn all kinds of things driving this carriage around,” he said with a smile.  “Some of it I know better than to repeat.  But that whole thing out there about Montana wanting to be a state, but being told they had to let the black man vote before they could become one sure did get my attention.”

Abby nodded.  “It did seem a little silly to me since there
are
no black men in Montana, but I know it’s about more than that.  The country is trying to find its way forward in ending slavery and making you equal.”

“What you think about the black man having the vote?”  Cyrus asked suddenly.

“I think it absolutely should happen,” Abby responded instantly.  “You should be free, you should be a citizen, and you should have the right to vote and have a voice in this country.”

“Don’t that bother you none?”   Cyrus pulled up to the building where Abby had her meeting and turned to her.  “I mean, women been free from the beginning, and you a citizen, but you don’t get to vote.  Don’t it bother you that someone like me might get to vote before you?”

Abby took a deep breath.  “It’s wrong for you not to be able to vote.  It’s also wrong for women not to have the vote.  But to take it from you just because we want it first would also be wrong.  To hold it from blacks would do nothing to ensure women would get it.”  She smiled up at him.  “We’ll continue to fight for
both
of us to have the right to vote.  I can only hope that when it has happened every woman and every black person will take advantage of the power it gives us.”

“Why, nothing would keep me from voting iffen I had the chance,” Cyrus protested.

“I agree with you, but there are too many people who want to criticize what is happening without being involved in the process.  Take this war.  The people of the United States let just a handful of hot-tempered men decide their future. And now we are paying the price.”  Abby stared off into the distance where men were finishing the dome of the Capitol building.  “If more people had stood up and let their voices be heard, could we have stopped the death of so many of our nation’s men and boys, the destruction of so much of our country?  We’ll never know, but I believe it would have been different.”

Abby glanced toward the door of the building, saw a group of women going in, and quickly gathered her things.  “My greatest hope is that when this war is over, the people of this nation will not just sit back and let others dictate their future.  The reunion will be every bit as difficult as the war.”

“Say what?” Cyrus exclaimed.  “How you figure that?”

Abby shook her head sorrowfully.  “However this war ends, there will be a deep bitterness on both sides.  I’m afraid people will simply want revenge, and that even if the armies go home, people will continue fighting.”  She stared off into the distance.  “They’ll just find another way to fight.”

She shook her head again and stepped out of the carriage.  “I’ll be here for about two hours.  Will you pick me up later?”

“Yessum, Mrs. Livingston.  I be here.”  Cyrus hesitated.  “Thank you.”

“For what?”  Abby paused as she headed up the sidewalk.

“You done made me do some thinking.  I don’t want to be one of them people who just let things happen.  I reckon I going to find a way to let my voice be heard in this country, no matter what happens with that amendment – but I sho gonna pray it goes through.”

“Thank you, Cyrus.”  Abby reached out and touched his arm.  “You give me hope for the future.”  Then she turned and joined the other women on the building’s porch.

Abby nodded greetings to all the women on the porch and moved inside.  “Will Dorothea be here today?” she asked the woman closest to her.

“I know she’s going to try, but the new influx of patients from the fighting in Virginia is occupying most of her time.”

“Of course.”  Abby was hoping to meet the famous Dorothea Dix she had heard so much about.  She’d been aware of the woman’s pioneering work in setting up hospitals for the insane before the war and hadn’t been surprised when Dorothea showed up in the capital right after the war started to offer her services.  She had been rebuffed at first because everyone, including all government officials, thought the war would be short-lived.  It hadn’t taken them long to change their minds and accept the help she offered. 

Abby’s attention was called to the front of the room when one of the women stood up and turned to address them.  “Dorothea sent a message that she will be late, but she will be here.”

Abby smiled.  One of her goals for this trip to Washington was to make connections Carrie would need after the war.   Three years of war and distance had done nothing to diminish the love she had for the spirited young girl who had arrived at her home for a visit with Abby’s niece before the war began. 

Carrie was now a young woman being tempered by the reality of medical service in the war.  She had drilled Matthew for information about Carrie when he returned from his time in prison.  Abby was determined to do everything she could to lay the foundation for Carrie’s dream of becoming a doctor.  Meeting the superintendent of nursing was near the top of Abby’s list.

One of the women standing close to Abby touched her hand.  “Is it true that this is the first time in our nation’s history that our army is being cared for by women, and that Miss Dix is the superintendent of women nurses?”

“Yes, it’s true,” Abby replied, “but not everyone has been happy with it.”  She smiled as she thought about what Dorothea had accomplished.  “She started with a completely volunteer corps of nurses.  But she was able to set up a system of compensation so all the women were paid by the government.  Now close to fifty thousand women take care of our soldiers.”

“Oh, my!”

Abby frowned.  “Not everyone reacted as enthusiastically as you.  Far too many doctors and surgeons were quite put off with the power Dorothea Dix held over their hospitals.”

“What happened?”

“They passed new laws that keep the women nurses from being paid, and they’ve given the power back to the senior medical officers of each hospital.  Dorothea has lost a great deal of her power and influence,” Abby said flatly.  Then she smiled.  “Not that it has slowed her down any.”

Another woman leaned in.  “Did you hear about what happened at the battle of Antietam?”

Both Abby and the other woman shook their heads.

“Dorothea was out on the battlefield – right in the midst of the fighting!  She was holding the head of a wounded soldier in her lap so she could give him water.  He was laying right there in her lap when he suddenly jerked and died instantly.”

“From what?” Abby asked, her heart pounding from the image she could see so clearly.

“A musket ball hit him directly in the head.  Dorothea stood up and took her water to the next soldier who was down.”

Abby’s eyes filled with tears.  She knew nothing could stop that kind of compassion and caring.  Regardless of Dorothea’s rank or position, she would continue to serve every way she could.  “What does she need from us?”

Just then Dorothea walked into the room.  Applause welcomed her, but she held up her hand impatiently and walked to the front of the room.  Dark hair carefully pulled back into a bun framed a strong, caring face.  “Thank you all for coming.  I can only stay a few minutes because the wounded from Richmond are flowing into the city.”  She gazed around the room.  “All of you are women of influence from other cities.  I need your help to mobilize the women in your city to sacrifice even more to take care of our soldiers.  We need everything….”

She motioned to two women standing on the side of the room.  “I’ve asked these women to prepare a list of what we need.  I pray you all will take it and do what you can to get the supplies.”

She moved toward the door as if to leave but then turned back to scan the room.  “Is there an Abigail Livingston here?”

Abby stepped forward immediately, mystified as to why she was being singled out.  “Yes, I’m here.”

“Will you please walk out with me?”

Not caring what had created this small miracle, Abby fell into place beside her.  “What can I do for you?”

“I just wanted to thank you,” Dorothea said warmly.  “I’ve heard you single-handedly have sent down more barrels of goods, including medical supplies, to the contraband camp at Fort Monroe than all the other people combined.  You are obviously a very powerful woman.”  She smiled broadly.  “And I like to surround myself with powerful women.  It gives me hope for the future.”

Abby laughed and reached down to squeeze the woman’s hand.  “I feel the exact same way.  I will send a letter to the women of Philadelphia as soon as I get back to my room.”

Dorothea nodded.  “I was quite sure of that.  Now, what can I do for you?” 

Rendered speechless for a moment, Abby stared at her. 

Dorothea smiled.  “We all need to stick together.  I know more about you than you know, Abby.  You have touched so many lives.  Is there anything I can do for you?”

Abby’s heart swelled with gratitude.  “Not right this moment, but as soon as the war is over,” she said quickly, “there is a young woman, down in Richmond, that has a passion to be a doctor.  She is like a daughter to me.  She is working in Chimborazo right now.  When this war is over, I want you to meet her and help her connect with the medical colleges for women.”
              Dorothea smiled.  “I would be honored,” she said immediately.  “Bring her to me at any time.”  She squeezed Abby’s hand.  “And now I have to go.  Thank you so much for everything.”

“The same to you, Dorothea,” Abby whispered and then reached out to embrace the older woman in a warm hug.  “God bless you.”