And Forever Be Free – Chapter Three

Brigader General John Gibbon, USA

“None but fools, I think, can deny that they are afraid in battle.”

AND FOREVER BE FREE

By Rich Trzupek

Copyright 2009 Richard J. Trzupek

Chapter Three

It was dark, or it was almost dark anyway.  Sara lie awake in her bed, staring out of her window.  The moon had just made its appearance.  It loomed low over the horizon, huge and bright in the dark grey sky.  The mountains were darker shadows in the distance, gently rolling across the landscape.

Sara heard the call of a hoot owl on the hunt.  It was a comforting sound.  All of the evening sounds were comforting to her.  She felt like she was a part of something bigger – more alive.  It made her think of walking through the woods, which was one of her favorite things.  The woods were so alive!  They had a smell that was all their own, always different than anywhere else, but always changing.  After a spring rain, they smelled crisp and clean, but after a fall rain they smelled a musty and old.  In a hot summer day, the woods were steamy.

She couldn’t really get enough of exploring the countryside.  It was a fact that caused no end of distress to her Aunt Jean.  Sometimes Sara would disappear for hours, lost in some new exploration, picking flowers or simply watching a doe tend to her fawn.  She was constantly losing track of time during her wanderings, often scaring her Aunt half to death.  Sara didn’t seem to be able to help it.  She loved exploring so.  She had wandered about so much that she probably knew the country between Martinsburg and Harpers Ferry better than most of the adults about.  She knew where the old Indian trails were and she knew where there were hidden creeks.  The countryside was, in many ways, her best friend.

Sara wondered if Stonewall and his soldiers were really coming.  Were they even now sneaking through her beloved woods?  Were they tramping over the wildflowers, killing the bunnies and chipmunks just for the fun of it – laughing like madmen as they blasted the fleeing animals?  It was a horrible picture.

The Union Army would stop them, wouldn’t it?  Her father was in the Union Army – they couldn’t lose, could it?  They had to stop Stonewall.  Aunt Jean said that “war is a terrible thing”.  Sara supposed that her aunt was right, but figured that it was only a terrible thing if one was on the losing side.  She had never really thought that she – and her mother and father – could be on the losing side.  All the news about the Confederate victories seemed just like a story, a story that really didn’t matter.  In the end, the good guys would win – wouldn’t they?

Sara had no doubt who the good guys were, even if she wasn’t exactly sure why there had to be a war at all.  It was about slavery, as far as she could tell.  The South wanted to have slaves and the North didn’t want them to.  Somebody had to be right.  How could it be the South?  It was wrong to have slaves – both her mom and dad had said so.  Yet, she was living with slaves, having them wait on her, watching them do their work.

They were different, of course.  Everyone knew that.  Even if mother and father didn’t think slavery was right, they would never say that colored people were the same as white people.  Only crazy people like John Brown would say something like that.  Colored people were different.  They weren’t as smart.  They couldn’t run things.  They would never do the same things that white people would.  That didn’t mean that they had to be slaves, Sara figured, but it didn’t mean that they should try to people like white people either.  They weren’t like white people.

Sara found herself getting mad at the slaves.  Why did they have to be here at all?  Why couldn’t they have just stayed in Africa?  Then, none of this would have happened.  Then she would be safe and sound in her home in Harpers Ferry instead of waiting for Stonewall to come charging into Martinsburg.

She thought about Jacob and his wild eyes.  She knew that Jacob was desperate to escape.  Twice, since she had moved into the Danhurst house, he had tried to run away.  Both times Mr. Crampton and his men had run him down in the woods.  They had bloodhounds; big ugly dogs that would howl and stain at their lines as the men followed Jacob’s trail.  It was impossible to escape the bloodhounds.  Jacob would come back, his wrists and ankles chained.  Mr. Crampton would assemble all of the slaves to watch the whipping that would follow.  The last time, Sara heard, Jacob had passed out during the punishment.  He didn’t go back to work for many days after that.

It was, Catherine Douglas said, just what he deserved.  “Father says the darkies have got to know their place,” she said to Sara.  “If we let one get away with it, they’ll think they can all get away with anything.”

Sara scoffed.  How could Jacob – or any of the slaves – do anything with all of those men and all of those bloodhounds and all of those whips?

Mrs. Danhurst was as insufferable as her daughter.  “Your just a little Yankee girl Sara,” she said “and you really can’t understand.  There’s a natural order to things, and you Yankees can’t understand that.  It’s our job to take care of the colored people.  My goodness child, without us, they’d be just like animals.  Don’t you know that they were running naked in jungles in Africa before we brought them here?  They’re just like animals Sara and they need us to take care of them.”

Sara drifted off to sleep with those words echoing in her head.  They needed us to take care of them?  Was that really so?  Did Jacob – and Lucinda – really need to be taken care of?  It was a troubling thought.  Could it be so?  Could she – could her parents – be on the wrong side?  It didn’t seem possible, but she couldn’t help but wonder…

It was still dark when Sara felt a hand shaking her roughly by her shoulder.  “Sara.  Sara!  Wake up, Sara!” a voice was calling out of the mists.  She rolled over and opened her eyes a crack.  It was Aunt Jean.

“What time is it?” Sara asked sleepily.

“Never mind that,” Aunt Jean whispered urgently.  “Get up and get dressed.  We have to go.”

Sara sat up and rubbed her eyes.  “Go?  Where?  Why do we have to go?  What’s wrong?”

“Come on Sara,” Aunt Jean said, pulling the young girl out of her bed.  “We must get on the road quickly.”

The panic in Aunt Jean’s voice spurred Sara into action.  “What’s wrong?!” she repeated.

“We have to go back to Harpers Ferry Sara.  The Union Army is there and we’ll be safe.”

Sara’s heart sank and butterflies churned her stomach.  “Safe from what??” she demanded.

“The news is all over town – Stonewall is in Martinsburg…” Her voice was filled with dread as she added “…and he’s headed this way.”

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