Dark Chaos (# 4 in the Bregdan Chronicles Historical Fiction Romance Series) (64 page)

             
“We’re still better off than when we started,” Matthew commented.  “There are four of us instead of two.” 

             
All four men reached out, grasped hands in the center of their small circle, gazed at each other with determined faces, and then headed toward their beds.  Tomorrow was a new day. 

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

             
Carrie straightened up from examining one of her patients.  She smiled warmly.  “I think you’re ready to go home.”

             
“You’re not kidding me?”  Private Abner Scroll asked eagerly.  “I can really go home?”

             
“Really,” Carrie said firmly.  “You’ve healed very well.  You’re walking well on your crutches.  I see no reason you can’t go home.”  She paused.  “You know it will take you some time to get your strength back.”

             
“Yeah,” Abner mused then grinned.  “But I reckon I’ll be able to put a crop in this spring.  Ain’t got to do that for the last three years.”  His grin broadened.  “I reckon my wife and kids will be right glad to see me.”

             
“I imagine so,” Carrie agreed.  “They’ve only written you letters almost every day,” she teased.   She was quite certain it had been Abner’s family who had helped him pull through.  Whenever the discouragement had seemed to settle on him like a dark cloud, he had pulled out his thick sheaf of letters.  Carrie thought fleetingly of the big stack of letters she still had from Aunt Abby from before the war.  Their warm encouragement was still a balm to her soul when she teetered close to despair.

             
Abner lay back against his pillows, his eyes bright with excitement.  “When can I leave?”

             
“I think there is a train heading up into the mountains in a couple of days, as long as the tracks stay free from snow,” Carrie replied.  “I see no reason you can’t be on it.”  She wanted to ask him how he planned on planting a crop with one leg but didn’t.  She knew that raw determination could achieve many things.  “We’ll miss you around here, Abner.”

             
“Indeed we will,” a cheerful voice said.  Dr. Wild strode up and reached out to grasp Abner’s hand.  “You’re a very lucky man, Abner.  I really didn’t think we were going to save you last summer.  You were closer to death than any man I have seen come through here and make it.  I guess God still has something for you to do.”

             
“Yes, sir,” Abner said solemnly.  “I think about that a lot.  I been asking God every day what my future is going to be like.”  He paused, a thoughtful expression on his face. 

             
“And what has God told you?”  Dr. Wild finally asked.

             
Abner looked at both of them with deeply serious eyes.  “I reckon God told me that the best way to predict my future is to go out and create it myself.”

             
Carrie stared at Abner and was struck again by the wisdom of the young farmer.  “Create it yourself…,” she murmured.

             
“Yes, ma’am,” Abner said forcefully.  “I was laying here one night feeling right sorry for myself - having lost my leg and all.  I just didn’t see that I could have any kind of future.”  He paused.  “I was kind of wishing God had done took me on that battlefield.  I figured I wouldn’t be nothing but a burden to my family.”

             
“They would never feel that way!”  Carrie protested.

             
“No, ma’am,” Abner agreed easily.  “But I did, and my feelings was the ones I was listening to.  Anyway,” he continued, “I just kept asking God what my future was gonna be like, but I wadn’t getting no answers.”  He took a deep breath and grinned.  “That’s when I finally began to understand.  God was telling me I would create my own future.  That I didn’t just have to lay around and wait to see what would happen.  I had to take charge of things.”

             
“So what are you going to create?”  Dr. Wild asked.

             
“I’m a farmer,” Abner said steadily.  “I reckon keep on farming.  And I’m a daddy, so I reckon I’ll be the best daddy I can be.  And be the best husband to Ardith I can be.”  He looked up and grinned.  “One day I’ll have one of the biggest farms in western Virginia.  You remember that.”

             
Carrie nodded, a lump in her throat.  “I believe you, Abner.  I believe you.”

             
“I’ll be watching,” Dr. Wild promised.  Then he turned to Carrie.  “When you are done here, may I see you a few minutes?”

             
“I was just getting ready to leave,” Carrie said quickly.  She reached over to grasp Abner’s hand one more time and then followed Dr. Wild to his tiny, immaculate office. 

             
“If you are free this afternoon, I would appreciate your help with something.”

             
“Certainly,” Carrie replied instantly.  “The hospital is almost empty now.  I have plenty of time.  What is it?”

             
“Belle Island Prison,” Dr. Wild said grimly.  “I’ve heard about the conditions over there.  Dr. McCaw has asked if I will go over to deliver medical care.  I would appreciate it if you would join me.”

Carrie gripped the carriage to keep from crying out in horror as the hospital carriage rambled across the bridge leading to Belle Island.  She gazed out over the prison camp located on the extreme lower end of the island.  Four acres of land had been set aside
, surrounded by a three-foot embankment of frozen dirt.  Just the other side of the embankment was a chain of sentinels, their guns up and ready in case of an escape attempt.  A ridge of low hills surrounded and overlooked the camp.  She could see the pieces of artillery planted there, pointed ominously toward the camp. 

             
It was the men that horrified Carrie, however.  Everywhere she looked were skeleton-like figures covered with flapping rags.  Most were shoeless.  Their eyes stared around numbly.  Some looked up as the wagon rolled past.  Most stared stoically at the ground.

             
“Do they not feed these men?”  Carrie cried indignantly, her stomach revolting at what she was seeing.

             
“Not enough,” Dr. Wild growled, his eyes burning.  “I had heard the conditions were bad, but I wasn’t expecting this.”

             
“It looks like nothing more than a death camp,” Carrie whispered, shuddering in the warmth of her thick coat.  She looked again at the camp.  Some of the prisoners had tents - if those ragged caricatures could be given such a name - but many of the men seemed to have no shelter at all.  They stretched out on wooden boxes or simply lay on the frozen ground while trying to soak up all the warmth from the feeble sun they could.  Some were walking around, moving their bony arms in a futile attempt to get warm.  Carrie turned away, tears glimmering in her eyes. 

             
“I can’t believe humans can treat each other like this,” she whispered.  A deep loathing filled her heart and spirit.

             
“It’s horrible,” Dr. Wild agreed somberly.  Suddenly one of the men stopped moving his arms and walked toward the carriage.  Dr. Wild pulled back on the reins before they ran him over. 

             
“Get away from there!” one of the guards called.  The man looked his direction then turned back to look appealingly at Carrie.  “Move or I’ll shoot!” the guard yelled menacingly.

             
Carrie stood up quickly and glared at him.  “You’ll do no such thing,” she snapped.  “This man is causing no harm.”  She drew herself up erectly.  “We are here by order of the medical commission.   I would appreciate it if you would let us do our job.”  The guard grumbled but turned away.

             
“Thank you,” the prisoner said gratefully.  “Might you have a blanket in your carriage?  It is fearfully cold out here.”

             
Carrie examined the obviously well-educated man.  “How long have you been here?”

             
“Just since New Years’ Eve,” he said, shivering.  “They marched several hundred of us across the bridge through a dreadful snow storm.  I’m afraid we were stripped of our uniforms and handed the rags I am wearing now.  Very few of us were lucky enough to keep our shoes.”  He glanced at Dr. Wild.  “Do you know anything of a prisoner exchange?”

             
“I know a loud cry is being made for one, but so far I’ve heard no solid news.”

             
“I see,” the man said quietly. His shoulders slumped forward, and the shivering intensified.

             
Carrie stood up suddenly, reached under the seat, and pulled out the one blanket she knew was there.  “I wish I had more,” she said compassionately.  “There is so much need.”

             
“Yes, ma’am,” the man responded gratefully.  “I assure you I will share my blanket with several of my friends.  We take turns sleeping in shifts around here.”  He smiled and turned away.

             
Carrie watched him go, then turned, and stared at Dr. Wild.  “How can we do any good here?  How can we treat sick men who have no shelter, no way to keep warm, and no food?”  She scowled, anger boiling up and threatening to choke her.  “I wonder how many of these men die every night?”  Her own question was answered as she gazed past the embankment and saw hundreds of small mounds of frozen earth.  Her lips tightened, and she sat back down.

             
“We’ll do what we can,” Dr. Wild said somberly.

             
“Do they treat our men like this?”  Carrie asked suddenly.

             
“Prisoner-of-war camps are never pleasant places,” Dr. Wild said hesitantly.

             
“But to treat them like animals?”  Carrie cried.  “Some of these men probably have family in Richmond!”  Then she pursued her earlier question.  “Do they treat our men like this?” she pressed.

             
“I don’t know,” Dr. Wild admitted.  “I have heard unpleasant reports, but I daresay that at least the North is better able to feed their prisoners.”

             
“Until they find out what is happening here,” Carrie snorted.  “I’m sure there will be retribution.”

             
“I’m afraid you’re right,” Dr. Wild replied.  “Carrie, everyone in the South is battling hunger.  Our soldiers exist on little more than what these men get.  General Lee is constantly sending out appeals for food to feed his men.” 

             
“I know it’s bad everywhere,” Carrie whispered in a broken voice.  “But to see it with my own eyes.”  She blinked against her tears.  “It breaks my heart to think our soldiers are treated this badly.  This is simply inhumane.”

             
A heavy wagon rolling across the wooden bridge arrested her attention.  She looked up and watched it slow, then stop.  A sharply dressed Confederate official stood and shouted for attention.  Most of the men watching him remained where they were, looking up with disinterest.  Some stood and moved over to where they could better hear him.

             
The official waved his arm then read loudly from a piece of paper in his hands. 

“The government of the Confederate States of America announces a prison exchange of 500 men.”

              Carrie looked out as the whole clearing fell silent.  The reading continued.

             
“The exchange will take place day after tomorrow at ten o’clock in the morning.”
The official looked up and cleared his voice.  “Everyone with last names that begin with the letters A through E will be included in the exchange.” 

             
Weak cheering met his announcement.  Carrie gazed out over the crowded field and saw expressions of joy mixed with those of black despair.  “How wonderful!” she exclaimed.

             
“Yes.  It should help,” Dr. Wild murmured.