Candle in the Darkness - Lynn N. Austin [114]
I yanked my hands from his grip. “Me? Are you out of your mind?”
“Shh . . . shh . . . Listen, if you carried the reports to McClellan, you could help end this war. If the North wins a decisive victory, if we capture Richmond, the war would end tomorrow. President Lincoln’s only goal is to restore the Union.”
I wanted to run from the room, run from the ugliness of what he was suggesting, but I was too stunned to move. “You can’t possibly ask me to betray the Confederate Army. Charles is out there in one of those trenches defending Richmond. It would mean betraying the man I love . . . betraying my cousins . . . my own father. . . .”
“If the war ends quickly, there would be less chance of any of them dying.”
“No, Robert. I can’t help you. I won’t.”
“I know how you feel about slavery, Caroline. If you don’t help me, then you’re betraying your own convictions. You’re helping to keep hundreds of thousands of people in slavery.”
I stood, ready to flee, but my legs trembled so badly I couldn’t take a single step. “I came to help you as an act of charity,” I said. “I never expected you, of all people, to take advantage of my kindness by asking me to do such a terrible thing.”
“Terrible? Wouldn’t it be a greater crime to compromise your beliefs? To betray your God?” He paused. “Here, take this, Caroline.” He shoved a small, pocket-sized Bible into my hands.
“Why? What is this?”
“Look at it carefully. On all of the blank pages and between the lines, my fellow officers and I have written everything we saw and remember of the Confederate forces defending Richmond. We’ve signed our names and ranks to these intelligence reports.”
“I won’t take it,” I said, throwing it down on the bench.
Robert calmly removed all of the food from the basket I’d brought, then put the Bible inside in its place. “Take it home and burn it, then. You’re condemning all of us to death if it’s found in here.” He pushed the basket into my hands. We stared at each other for a long moment. When he spoke again, his voice was gentle. “I’m told that if you travel beyond the Confederate lines for a mile or two, our Union pickets will likely intercept you. Give them the book and ask them to take it to the proper authorities. That’s all I’m asking.”
“That’s all? How dare you ask me to do this?”
“I dare because I know what you believe. I know you’re convinced that slavery is wrong. ‘Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them.’ And I know that you were once committed to doing whatever you could to abolish this evil institution.”
I left the prison so upset that Eli immediately asked me what was wrong. I waited until we reached home, then told him in the privacy of our carriage house. “Robert asked me to help the Yankees. There’s information written in this Bible that he says could help the North win the war. He wants me to deliver it to them.”
“Guess you’re not wanting to do that?”
“I can’t. I would be helping Charles’ enemies, betraying him. This information might endanger his life.”
Eli’s warm brown eyes met mine. “If your mind’s made up not to do it . . . then why you still upset?”
I looked away, remembering Robert’s words. “Because if I don’t do it, I’m helping the South win . . . which means I’m helping all of you remain slaves. Don’t you see? Either way, I’m a traitor.”
Eli exhaled. “You in a hard place, Missy.”
“Could Charles and Daddy be wrong, Eli? Is God on the Yankees’ side? And if so, what about all the people in my church who are earnestly praying to God, asking Him to help the South win? How can I expect my own prayers to keep Charles and Daddy and Jonathan safe?”
Eli