She liked him, she realized. Beneath his handsome playfulness was a man of depth and feeling. “Where do I go now?”
“With me to be processed.”
Sable gave him such a skeptical look, his face brightened with a smile. “You doubt my intentions?”
Sable suspected he treated all women to his dazzling charm, making them feel as if they were the center of his world, but she saw no harm in basking in the attention for a short while. “I doubt your intentions, yes,” she declared.
“Challenging, beautiful,
and
smart,” he told her, his eyes shining with amusement. “Earning my reward may not be as easy as I first thought.”
“Building snowmen for the devil may be easier.”
He chuckled. “You are going to be worth more than gold, I’m thinking.”
“Much more.”
Their eyes held for a moment longer, and it seemed as if the world had ceased to turn.
Sable shook off the odd reverie. “Where does this processing take place?”
“At the big house in the center of camp.” Raimond felt as if he’d just had roots worked on him. He swore he saw his future in her eyes.
She looked around. “Which direction?”
He pointed east. “About a half-mile that way.”
The people in the camp flowed around them. Men tipped their hats to Sable as they passed. Others shook the mounted major’s hand to welcome him back. She noted how he took time to reply to all the cries of “Good morning, Major” thrown his way, and to acknowledge everyone who approached him, from wizened elders and small children, to young women with flirting eyes. He appeared to be quite popular here. Although Sable would never admit it out loud, the respect he showed the residents and the respect they offered in return further enhanced his standing in her eyes. “Will I be able to find the processing station on my own?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Maybe, but this is a big place. It was once one of the largest plantations in the area, or so I’ve been told.”
Sable knew she should probably distance herself from the French major. Who knew what could happen if she became susceptible to his charm? But she decided to accept his offer of help one last time. “I’ll accept your escort, but I will not ride.”
“Fair enough.”
He set the black stallion’s pace to match her steps, and they ventured into the camp.
On the way, he was greeted by more of the residents and many soldiers. Sable told him, “You seem to know everyone here.”
“Just about.”
“Do you hold a position of authority?”
“I suppose you could call it that. I’m in charge here.”
Sable stopped in her tracks. “You’re jesting.”
He shook his head. “No, I’m the camp commander.”
Sable’s surprise lingered. “I knew the Yankees had some Black soldiers, but I never imagined they’d let men of the race be in charge of anything. Do you have real authority?”
“I have the authority to protect this camp and its residents against incursion, yes.”
“I’m impressed, Major.”
“I’m glad there’s something about me that impresses you.”
“Accustomed to impressing people, are you?”
“Women, yes.”
She laughed. “Are all the men in Louisiana as “accustomed” as you?”
“My brothers and I are.”
“Are there any women left unmoved once you and your brothers get through with them?”
“Hardly any.”
“Well, then you should be glad we met.”
“Why?”
“Because no man should get everything he desires.”
“You’re challenging me again,” he cautioned.
Sable simply smiled and walked on.
Once they reached the original plantation house, with its tall white columns, Raimond urged her to let him take her inside so she could bypass the large crowd lined up outside. She politely declined. “No one will appreciate me going ahead of them. They look as if they’ve been here quite some time. I’ll wait my turn.”
“Challenging, beautiful, smart,
and
stubborn,” he informed her. “Then I suppose I should go inside and get back to work. Will you at least come and clerk for me?”
Sable noticed the others in line listening to their conversation. “No,” she replied. “I’ll make my own way.”
He did not look convinced, but Sable paid him no mind. Working for him would undoubtedly cause gossip, and she didn’t need gossip trailing her to freedom. “Thank you for all your help, Major.”
“My pleasure. I will see you again, I’m sure.
Au revoir, mademoiselle
.”
He turned the stallion around and rode off toward the back of the house. The sprawling structure reminded Sable of the Fontaines’ white mansion. Thinking about them brought back the tragic memories of her last night there. Burying her grief over Mahti’s death, she silently waited her turn.
At the front of the line Sable stepped up to the table in the parlor and faced the sour-faced Black soldier seated there. “Name?” he asked.
“Sable Fontaine.”
“Were you a captive before coming here?”
“Yes.”
“Are you carrying information the generals might be interested in?”
“What sort of information?”
“Troop movements, rumors, locations of supply depots.”
“No.”
He finally looked up. “Is there someplace else you can go?”
The question confused her. “I don’t understand.”
“Is there someplace else you can stay besides here in the camp?”
“No, why?”
“We’ve more runaways here than we can provide for,” he stated bluntly. “People are sick and hungry. We’re encouraging folks to go elsewhere.”
“I’ve nowhere else to go.”
He kept his face expressionless, but she sensed her answer had not pleased him when he said, “Everybody here works to earn his keep. How do you intend to feed yourself, Miss Fontaine?”
Sable had to admit she hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Well, I don’t know. What kind of work is there?”
“Do you have children?”
“No.”
“That’s something in your favor. Women on their own can take in sewing, rent themselves out to the locals, or find a protector.”
Sable blinked at that last choice. Surely he wasn’t encouraging her to become a woman of ill-repute!
“Are you a fancy girl?”
Sable blinked again. Did this man have any manners at all? Holding on to her patience, she replied stiffly, “No, I’m not a pleasure woman.”
“Then I’m assuming from your speech and appearance that you were a house servant. Can you do anything?”
Sable took offense again. “It depends on what that means. Yes, I did serve in the house, but I’m sure I can contribute in some way. What needs to be done here?”
“Do you like laundry?”
She looked into his flashing eyes and replied truthfully, “Not particularly, no.” As a ghost of a smile flitted across his full lips, she added, “But since I’ve admitted that, I assume that’s where I’ll be assigned.”
“Correct. You’ll find Mrs. Reese on the western edge of camp. Report there and she’ll put you to work.”
The man looked impatiently past her, then called out, “Next!”
Assuming she’d been dismissed, Sable turned on her heel and left.
Araminta was waiting outside, and Sable was certainly glad to see her. “Hello.”
“Hello to you too, Sable. I see you made it here all right.”
“Yes, thanks to you.”
“Don’t thank me. I just do what I’m called to do. You and the major get along?”
“For the most part, yes. Why?”
“Just curious.”
Sable didn’t believe that for a minute. She had the strong sense that Araminta was trying to play matchmaker. “Tell me about this dream you had.”
“Let’s get something to eat first. Hungry?”
“Extremely.”
Araminta chuckled, then gestured. “This way.”
As Sable followed her new friend through the crowded camp, she saw soldiers, both Black and White, dressed in the Union blue, driving wagons, patrolling, and practicing drills. “Seeing all these Black soldiers is still amazing to me,” she said.
“They make you proud, don’t they? There’s almost two hundred thousand of them helping Mr. Lincoln win this war.”
On the fringe of the main encampment, Araminta had erected a small camp that consisted of a small canvas tent and a cook fire. The women shared a breakfast of hardtack and coffee. Sable had never tasted hardtack before. The small, square Union staple was nothing more than hard, stale bread.
Araminta explained, “All the troops eat it. If you put it in your coffee, it’ll soften up a bit.”
Sable dunked an edge in the coffee and found it did help.
“The boys call them teeth dullers. Don’t eat them at night though.”
“Why not?”
“Can’t see if there’s worms in them. The boys call ’em worm castles too, just so you know.”
Sable’s eyes widened with alarm as she carefully surveyed the remaining portion in her hand.
Araminta chuckled.
Confident she hadn’t consumed any worms, Sable said, “Now tell me about this dream you had about me.”
“Not much to tell really. I had it about a year ago. I dreamed LeVeq and I were on one of his ships.”
“The major owns ships?”
“Quite a few, but in the dream, the ship he and I were on was in the middle of a terrible storm. Lightning was flashing, and the waves were rising higher than our heads. Then came the biggest wave we’d seen and when it crashed onto the deck, it left a chest behind.”
Sable’s brows knitted in confusion. “A chest?”
“Yes, a big, old sea chest. The major finally got it open and you stepped out!”
“Me!”
“You. Of course I didn’t know it was you at the time, but yes, Sable, you were in the chest.”
“Was there anything else in it?”
“Yep. A bunch of babies. Brown ones, Black ones, gold ones. They came spilling out like a bunch of puppies.”
Sable had never heard anything like this before in her life. “Babies?”
“Dozens of them.”
Sable smiled and shook her head. “Was there anything else?”
“Yes, a thin gold bracelet.”
Sable drew in a sharp breath.
“When the major placed it on your wrist, the sea calmed and the sun came out.”
Sable didn’t know what to think. Part of her wanted to show Araminta Mahti’s bracelet to see if it matched the one in the dream. But did she really want to know? she asked herself. She answered with a resounding no! “How did you find me at the old Dresden place?”
“Funny thing. I had a dream about that same chest a few days before we met. It was sitting in front of a burning house, and I could hear something knocking around inside it. When I opened it, a golden bird flew out. I chased it for a long time, then finally caught it outside a house that looked a lot like the house where we met. When I got up that next morning, I set out to find that house. I had no idea where it was, or who or what I’d find there, but I knew something was waiting for me there.
“So you just up and went.”
“Sure did. Glad I did too.”
Sable smiled. She didn’t know how much of this tale she believed, but she was glad Araminta had believed it, otherwise they probably would never have met. “Babies, huh?”
“Yep, babies.”
Sable wondered if the dream meant she and the major were going to have children. She immediately decided that was something else she’d no desire to ask Araminta about. A change in topic seemed overdue. “Do you know why this is called a contraband camp?”
“It’s the word everyone is using to describe the slaves who escape to the army. It was first applied to runaways in May of ’61, when three male slaves deserted over to the Union forces stationed near Fortress Monroe, Virginia. The Union general Benjamin Butler took them in and let them stay.”
“That was very fair-minded of him,” Sable said.
“I agree, but a Confederate colonel arrived the following day waving a white flag of truce and demanding the return of his property.”
“What did Butler do?”
“Declined. Told the Reb colonel that because the state of Virginia had chosen to withdraw from the Union, all property of any kind was subject to confiscation, as in any war. The three slaves were termed contraband of war and sent to work building a Union bakehouse.”
“And that’s where the phrase comes from?”
“Yep. The phrase became a popular one with the Northern press and soon came to be applied to all Blacks seeking safety behind Union lines.”
“Interesting.”
According to Araminta, by July 1861, General Butler and his troops had become a beacon of hope—almost a thousand new contrabands had sought safety behind Union lines at Fortress Monroe. When the first full year of the war ended, there were thousands of additional contrabands following the Union armies, camped outside Washington and in the tidewater regions of Virginia and South Carolina. To the west, camps formed in Union-held territory on the Mississippi.
Araminta said, “At first, Butler’s decision to offer those slaves harbor didn’t sit well with the Washington politicians. Up until then runaways had been returned to their masters.”
Sable found that confusing. “It seems to me the Yankee politicians would have been better served by encouraging slaves to run, not returning them. After all, we slaves are—or shall I say were—the wheels on the Confederacy’s war train.”
“It took them a while before they finally figured that out.”
Having been a slave, Sable knew that the enslaved population hauled supplies to the Confederate troops, worked in cotton factories and in munitions plants. In addition to mining gold in North Carolina, iron in Kentucky, and salt in Virginia, they built railroads, raised food, and fortified defenses around the cities. In fact, the Southern government thought its “property” so vital to its plans, slaves had been drafted into the war effort
before
the call went out for the White fathers and sons of the South to take up arms.
“So all of the escaped slaves are in these camps?” Sable asked.
“Not all, but many. Some are being relocated to what the Union’s calling ‘home farms.’ They’re given land and seed so they can support their families.”
“Where’s the government getting the land?”
“Most of it’s confiscated Reb property.”
“I’ll wager the masters are real happy with that arrangement,” Sable cracked sarcastically.