Enigma (Road to the Breaking Book 2), page 1
Enigma is a work of historical fiction. Apart from well-documented actual people, events, and places that figure in the narrative, all names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to current events, places, or living persons, is entirely coincidental.
Enigma
Copyright © Christopher A. Bennett – 2021
ISBN: 978-1-7331079-5-2 (Trade Paperback)
ISBN: 978-1-7331079-6-9 (eBook)
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DEDICATION
To my father
Craig A. Bennett, M.D.;
I miss you Dad,
and I know you
would’ve loved
seeing this in print.
Enigma [uh-nig-muh] noun:
1. A person of puzzling, inscrutable, mysterious, or contradictory character, 2. A perplexing or inexplicable occurrence or situation, difficult to understand or explain, 3. Obscure speech or writing, containing a hidden meaning: a riddle.
CONTENTS
Chapter 1. Princes, Strange Beasts, and Magical Giants
Chapter 2. Talk of Many Things
Chapter 3. Rough Wooing
Chapter 4. The Book of the Earth
Chapter 5. The Winds of Change
Chapter 6. The Making of Miss Evelyn
Chapter 7. Dark Clouds Beneath the Silver Lining
Chapter 8. By the People, For the People
Chapter 9. To Do What Must Be Done
Chapter 10. Hard Lessons
Chapter 11. An Unexpected Courtship
Chapter 12. View from the High Road
Chapter 13. Plans and Preparations
Chapter 14. Love's Labour's Lost
Chapter 15. The Flight of Icarus
Chapter 16. New Beginnings
Preview: Sedition
Acknowledgments
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“I’m not particularly keen
on doing what’s normal.
I much prefer
doing what’s right.”
– Nathan Chambers
CHAPTER 1. PRINCES, STRANGE BEASTS, AND MAGICAL GIANTS
“Let the sleeping dogs lie,
but rise up!
You sleeping giants.”
– Bernard Kelvin Clive
Monday June 11, 1860 – Greenbrier County, Virginia:
They walked their horses slowly down the dirt lane, fields of tobacco tumbling away into the distance on either side. Further off they could see other crops—okra and sweet potatoes, among others. But one crop dominated the view, the king of all: cotton. It covered a vast acreage with endless rows of knee-high, bright-green, bushy plants, gently rising and falling with the lay of the land.
A lush green valley spread before them, backed by heavily wooded hills, rolling off as far as the eye could see. The hooves of their horses kicked up but little dust. A brief morning shower had wetted the road earlier. But now the sun shone strong and bright in a cobalt blue sky, dotted only sparsely with puffy white clouds that did nothing to diminish the late-morning heat.
Nathan could smell the dampness of the earth as they rode. Looking down into the valley ahead, he saw a cluster of buildings—slave quarters, sheds, barns, and various storage buildings. And last, deep in the valley, a great, white house. The Big House, Nathan reminded himself.
Nathan’s granddaddy, Daniel Chambers, had built it in the classic Greek style. Four large, two-story columns lined the peaked front entrance, which was flanked by a veranda wrapping entirely around the house, lined by smaller, single-story columns that mimicked the front. The first floor sat five feet off the ground, with a set of broad, stone steps leading up to the veranda from the drive. Daniel Chambers had harvested timber from the site to build the structure of the house and to provide the white-painted wood siding and trim. He’d done it mostly because he appreciated the economics it afforded him; he’d avoided the expense of hauling in the huge quantity of bricks required to build a red-brick manor house of the style popular in Richmond. Nathan thought the effect of the pure white house, sparkling in the sun against an emerald green background, was truly magnificent.
Home. It seemed strange and surreal—a dream from which there would be no awakening. Back home to his new life. He sighed a heavy sigh. This would take some getting used to, he decided.
A lone rider trotted toward them from the valley below. Nathan raised his hand, and the small troop immediately pulled to a stop. They awaited the rider in expectant silence.
The men from Texas had endured a journey of twenty-five hundred miles to come here, with little idea what they’d find once they arrived. Nathan had invited the men to stay and enjoy the hospitality of his home for a week or two before they headed off to their final destinations. Happily, all had agreed.
The rider pulled up in front of them, doffed his wide-brimmed felt hat and said, “Captain Chambers, I presume?”
“Yes, that's correct. And who might you be?”
“Well, sir, I am Allen Sickles, head overseer of Mountain Meadows. Welcome home, Mr. Chambers, sir. I am entirely at your service, of course.”
“Thank you, Mr. Sickles. It is good to be home again.”
Nathan’s response was proper and formal, as the occasion demanded, but there were mixed emotions behind it.
“My traveling companions …” he gestured toward the men, “are also from the Army out in Texas. They’ll be guests enjoying the hospitality of our home for a spell. Please see to it they are made welcome.”
“Yes, sir. Certainly! Most welcome, most welcome gentlemen, one and all. Welcome to Mountain Meadows Farm of western Virginia.” He nodded his head toward the men, while squeezing and crumpling his hat nervously. When he glanced at Billy Creek, he appeared startled, but said nothing.
“No need to ruin your hat, nor burn your face in the sun, Mr. Sickles. Lead on, if you please. I’ll make individual introductions once we’re safely in the shade of the house.”
“Yes, Master. Certainly, sir.” Sickles whipped his hat back on his head and pulled the reins of his horse back toward the valley.
Nathan’s instinctive gut reaction was to dislike the man. There was something disagreeable about him. He was a little too polite and obsequious. And he rarely made eye contact, giving him a nervous, guilty look, while also tending to glance at a person out the side of his face, as if silently passing judgment.
But Nathan scolded himself, not fair to judge a man so suddenly, on nothing more than first impressions and instincts. And yet … such instincts were usually correct, he counterargued. He decided to let the matter rest and think on it later.
As they reached the valley floor, and the road flattened out, they saw ahead of them a row of people standing still, lining both sides of the drive. Men, women, and children of all ages and sizes—with black faces—the slaves. Nathan swallowed a lump in his throat. This was the moment he’d thought about, dreamt about, and dreaded the entire journey.
How would they react to his return? Were they anything like he remembered? It was all so hazy in his memory. His world had changed since he was last here. It’d been another lifetime, another person—not himself. And yet … he could remember sneaking off to the river with a couple of the young black boys to swim and go fishing. Running, climbing, swinging from a rope into the water, laughing uproariously! And the boys suffering punishment later while he was forced to watch. Was it a dream, or had it really happened oh, so long ago?
The men on horseback leaned forward, looking around with curiosity. At a time when an adult slave might sell for fifteen hundred dollars or more at auction, this group represented more wealth than most men would earn in a lifetime.
Tom whistled quietly, turned to Jim and whispered, “I knew the Captain’s family had wealth, but this?” He shook his head. Jim nodded and grunted his agreement.
But for Nathan, the economic value of these people was the furthest thing from his mind. As they walked their horses between the rows of people, he looked down at their faces. None looked back. In the days before their arrival, he’d replayed this moment in his mind a hundred times—the expectant faces looking up at their new master with curiosity, wondering what he’d become in his years of absence. Maybe a shy smile or two, or a look of recognition, which he might return in an encouraging manner.
But this …
He felt his earlier excitement draining away. Face after face looked straight at the ground, never looking up at him, never meeting his eyes. Too afraid, too humbled, too downtrodden to even glance up to see how their new master looked, or what his demeanor might be.
He suffered a growing sadness, a wave of depression and hopelessness that threatened to darken the otherwise bright day of his homecoming. After the last two days of hard travel by horseback, Nathan had pulled out his dress clothes this morning for his arrival. He wanted to make an impression on his new “employees,” both black and white. But now he felt foolish for the thought. These people didn’t care how he looked; they had no reason to.
His decision to sell the farm and move Miss Abbey to a new home in Richmond hit hard against the realization of what that would mean to these people. Unless someone bought the whole thing, in
Oh, my dear God. What have we done? He had a sudden sick feeling like being kicked in the gut. What am I to do? He fought down the tears welling in his eyes.
As they moved along the row of slaves, Nathan looked up and surveyed their surroundings. To their right stood rough-looking, low-roofed buildings: the slave cabins. They’d built them using unpainted logs cut square-sided, not round. He noticed several cabins were missing wooden shingles in places, which must be a huge annoyance whenever it rained.
Past the slave quarters were several better kept buildings: storage and utility sheds. He scowled. They kept the farm’s tools and equipment in better buildings than its people. He expected the same was likely true of the livestock, though he hadn’t yet seen the barns or pens.
Looming ahead of them on the road was the Big House. He remembered it well from his childhood. A bright green lawn, neatly cropped by a small flock of sheep, surrounded a large white house. The gravel road ran straight toward the house, then looped around just in front of a broad set of stairs leading up to the columned veranda. More evenly trimmed grass filled the island at the center of the circle the roadway created. A neat row of flowers lined both the inner and outer edges of the circle; pink, white, and yellow, their colors sparkled in the sunshine. It was a beautiful and picturesque scene, he had to admit. But all he could feel was an overwhelming sadness.
They brought their horses to a halt in front of the house by a long hitching post. Three young black men and one older one came trotting forward to take their reins, and to relieve them of the pack animals and all their baggage. The men on horseback dismounted and stretched their limbs.
Nathan gazed up toward the front door of the house. He’d expected to see Miss Abbey standing there to greet him. But the front of the veranda was empty. He turned and gave Sickles a questioning look.
Sickles seemed uncomfortable meeting his intense gaze and looked down at his boots, “Miss Abbey is … well, sir she’s …”
Nathan felt a knot forming in his stomach.
“What is it, man? What’s wrong with Miss Abbey?”
“Miss Abbey hasn’t been well lately, sir … she took ill about a week ago and …”
Nathan’s eyes widened, and he turned back toward the house, “Momma …” he whispered and started toward the stairs. The growing anxiety that had dogged his steps the entire journey now seemed to be coming home to roost. No … dear God … don’t let it be … he thought, slowly shaking his head, fighting down a cold fear that threatened to overwhelm him.
But as he reached the bottom of the stone stairs leading up to the veranda, the front door opened, and a woman stepped out. She was dressed in a long white cotton gown trimmed in gold-colored satin and lace. To the newcomers it was clear she was the lady of the manor, an older woman, in her early fifties, but still attractive and vigorous; not the least frail-looking, showing no sign of her recent illness. Tall and thin, she carried herself with an easy, natural grace.
Nathan breathed a deep sigh of relief and smiled. His men politely held back, removing their hats respectfully.
When she came forward, three dark-skinned female servants followed in her wake. These were dressed in much nicer clothes than the people lining the roadway—these were house slaves.
The woman walked to the veranda’s edge at the top of the stairs. She paused and looked at Nathan, an unreadable expression on her face. Nathan looked back at her with curiosity—Abigail Chambers, his mother, whom he hadn’t seen or spoken to, except in letters, for almost twenty years! He decided she was still a beautiful woman, just as he had always pictured her in his mind. An odd thought then occurred to him; the last time he’d seen her she’d been the age he was now. My God … has it been that long?
Then she suddenly covered her mouth, and her eyes teared up. She fell to her knees, and her servants rushed forward to catch her.
Nathan took the steps three at a time, and was soon kneeling next to her, holding her upright. “Momma! Are you all right? I heard you’ve been ill …”
“I’m fine now … perfect even …” she whispered, voice choked with emotion, “Oh, my dear boy … oh my precious God. You’re really home … you are … finally home! After all these years, my little boy … is finally … home,” she reached out and grasped him by the shirt collar, thrusting her face into the crook of his neck. Then she sobbed, long, and hard.
He put his arms around her shoulders and held her gently. “It’s all right, Momma. I’m home now … home for good. Don’t worry Momma, your little boy is home.” They knelt on the veranda, and he held her close, softly patting her back, feeling suddenly helpless, not knowing what to do.
But after several minutes, she gathered herself, stood, and stepped back to gaze at him. “I’m all right. It’s true, I’ve been ill of late and feeling unsteady. But today … today my son is home! So all is right with the world! And … look at you! You have become such a fine, handsome man, Nathan, dear. As I knew you would.”
It was true; he was now a grown man, truly. His thirty-third birthday would be in less than a month. And while he was away, he had grown from a gangly teen into a tall, muscular man. She gazed at his face for several seconds, as if trying to see the little boy in the man. Then she flashed a smile, warm and genuine, though she still blinked back the tears. Nathan smiled brightly in return.
“It’s so good to see you, Momma,” he said sincerely. He’d not decided how he truly felt about her until this very moment. He’d always had such mixed emotions about his father, and about his home—it’d been difficult to separate out his feelings for his mother.
“I’ve stayed away too long. I’m … so sorry.” He felt a surge of emotion, his earlier sadness about the slaves momentarily forgotten. He could feel tears welling and he suffered a sudden vision of the endless years this fine woman had spent waiting for her only child to return.
She choked back another sob, “Yes … it’s been too long. But I know you had to be free … free to be happy … free from … your Daddy…” She paused, struggling with her emotions, searching for the right words to say. “He was a hard man … a difficult man to understand … difficult to love …”
She gazed up at the sky for a long moment and took a deep breath. Then she looked back at him, clapped her hands together, and clutched them to her breast, “But now you’re finally home! Hallelujah!”
She smiled at him again and took him by the arm, leaning in against his shoulder.
Then she looked over at the men and smiled brightly, “Oh, my goodness! My apologies for such a display! My Momma would be appalled at such manners, were she alive to see them! Please forgive me, young gentleman, and welcome! Welcome most sincerely to my home! And … thank you from the bottom of my heart … for bringing my son safely home to me!”
She turned to the black woman on her left, and said, “Will you please escort Nathaniel and his men into the house and give them shade and refreshment. They must be hot from riding all morning in the sun and tired after their long journey.”
“Yes, Miss Abbey. Please, do come inside, masters.” The maid stepped forward and gestured for the men to come up into the house.
Nathan had been so focused on Miss Abbey he noticed the black woman for the first time. She was also a fine-looking woman, tall and lean. She appeared to be about the same age as Miss Abbey. She had a few wrinkles, and a little gray in her hair that hadn’t been there before, but hers was a face he would never forget. “Hello, Megs! It’s so very good to see you again, after all these years!”
He looked her in the eye, and was pleased she was not intimidated, and didn’t look away like the other slaves had. It raised his spirits after the reception he’d received back on the road, and it made him smile.
She returned the smile, “Welcome home, Master. And … it’s very good to see you as well.”
“My goodness, Megs … now I think on it, you were the one always looking after me, teaching me my lessons, and whatnot when I was a boy. I don’t suppose I ever thanked you or showed the least appreciation. So … thank you, twenty years late …”
