::  A Civil War Story  ::

Chapter Six

He walked out on to the porch, glass in hand, and studied the flickering lantern light coming from the barn. The rain still fell, but the wind had died down. The smell of the rain and earth soothed him. He looked up and longed to go upstairs and apologize. It was none of his business. But he knew he wanted it to be. Her very presence thrilled him. It had been such a long time since he had been with any woman and a lifetime since he had been with a woman he could talk to.

Sharon. God, the guilt he felt over Sharon. She had been a loving wife, enjoying their passion filled nights as much as he, but after the disaster in Dakota and his transfer to Arizona, he had withdrawn into himself. Driving the men hard, drinking harder. He had treated her abysmally and he had only himself to blame that she had left for the love and comfort of another man. What did he know about the Mulders? What right did he have to judge her? But he pondered her mysterious exit line. "Trust me?" He muttered. Taking a long drink, he sighed and returned to the house. He was weary and wanted only to sleep. Hopefully, the humidity would stay down, and the bugs would sleep for awhile. He trudged up the back steps and entered the small coffin-like room. The door to the hallway was open, as was the door to the porch; water stained the floor just inside, but the breeze was worth the damage. He stared hard at the door to the room where they found him last night but he heard and felt nothing. Disregarding Sookie’s warning he scoffed at himself and entered the main hall. He glanced at Mrs. Mulder’s room and noticed the light under her door. He shrugged and started toward his open door when his innate sense of right and wrong forced him to her door. He raised his hand to knock but paused. <<<She’s probably undressed by now.>>> That thought brought a blush to his face and he started to turn. But then almost against his will, he knuckles gently made contact with the wood.

The door opened almost immediately and she stood there, in a dressing gown, her hair still up. "General! Is something wrong?" Her wide-eye look reminded him of the deer he had hunted as a boy.

He stammered his beginning. "I…uhm…I wanted…" Shaking himself he continued quickly. "I wanted to apologize, Mrs. Mulder."

Her sweet smile was his reward. "Thank you, general."

She waited patiently for him to continue but he tipped his head forward. "Good night, Mrs. Mulder," and abruptly turned toward his room.

He was halfway there before he heard her whispered, "Good night, General Skinner."

:: :: ::

Tonight, there was no dream-like quality to the pounding and the shouting. He struggled awake as Dogget, dressed only in his pants, undershirt, and boots, burst into the room, Langley directly behind him. "Sir!"

Rubbing sleep from his eyes, Skinner put both feet on the floor. "What is it, Doggett?"

Panting Doggett fought for control. "General, you best come down. It’s God-awful and…" His voice dropped to a whisper. "Sweet Jesus, Walter! Please."

Skinner came fully awake. He could count on one hand the number of times since they had graduated from West Point that John Doggett had called him by his given name. He pulled on his pants and boots and followed the men into the hall. Mrs. Mulder’s door opened and again wearing the dressing gown, though her hair was down and mussed from sleep, she peered out at them. Doggett looked with panic at Skinner. Skinner stepped forward. "Go back to sleep, Mrs. Mulder. It’s just a military problem." Nodding sleepily, she closed the door. Skinner turned to Langley and ordered, "Stay here!"

Doggett led him downstairs and to the back of the house. The major had regained his composure and advised "Watch your step, sir. It’s fairly muddy out here."

"Damn it, John. I’ve walked through mud before, now why the hell did you wake me?"

Even though they were in the back of the house and far enough away now, Doggett still lowered his voice. "Sir, it’s the senator."

Skinner stopped. "Oh for God’s sake. What is it?"

"Sir, he’s dead."

Exasperated, but still a worry nagging at the corner of his brain, Skinner stared at Doggett. "What? From his wounds or did Graves butchery finally kill him?"

Doggett continued on and Skinner threw up his hands and followed. When they reached the barn Skinner noted that ten very tired, very terrified looking soldiers milled around at the far end of the barn. The place had been transformed, though the livestock was still at one far end of the barn. The chickens at least had been evicted. Skinner walked to the netting, but Doggett grabbed his arm. "Its bad, sir. Really bad."

Steeling himself Skinner pulled back the curtain and blanched. Blood was everywhere. Everywhere it seemed except in Spender, who looked not so much white, but grey and mottled all at the same time. The look of terror burned on his face attested to the brutality of the crime. "Who did this?" Skinner’s voice was barely above a whisper.

"We don’t know, sir."

Skinner dropped the curtain and spun around to face Doggett. "What the hell do you mean, you don’t know? Where were the men?"

Doggett gulped. "That’s just it, sir. By the time they were done tonight, it was so wet and muddy out, I told them to pull some hay down from the rack and sleep here. They were scattered all around and sleeping soundly when they heard the screams. Two screams. Jones, over there was the first to look inside."

Skinner gingerly stepped into the stall. Spender’s neck had been clawed as if by an animal. Chunks of flesh lay on the covers and the floor, next to the bed. Skinner carefully turned, making sure he didn’t step in any blood or gore. He carefully studied the walls and the looked up. The hayrack above was within his reach.

He shuddered and stepped back into the main barn. Jones was waiting nervously, almost as pale as Spender’s corpse. Skinner noticed the ripe stench of fresh vomit nearby and felt sorry for the boy, who was one of the newest recruits; 17, Skinner guessed. Quietly, so as to not spook the boy, he asked, "son, you were the first to reach the senator?"

It took a couple of tries but the boy managed a shaky, "Yes, sir."

"How many screams did you hear?"

"T-t-two. I think. I was really sound asleep, but two, sir." Jones continued bravely.

"Now think carefully, soldier. I know it was horrible, but did you notice anything or anybody in the room besides the senator?"

Jones tried to speak but his mouth just opened and closed, like a fish fighting to breathe on land. Finally he settled for a quick shake of his head. The effort was too much and Skinner saw retching begin again. Pulling the boy to a corner, he held the lad’s head while Jones’ body shook with dry heaves."

"Doggett!"

Still pale and shaken himself, Doggett stepped closer, "Sir?"

"Go fetch some brandy."

"Here, get away from him."

Skinner jerked around and started to say something, but Mrs. Mulder pushed him away and held a small glass to Jones’ lips. Alvin stood off to the side, a cut glass decanter clutched in his hand. Behind him, Langley stood unable to meet Skinner’s glare. Through the barn door Skinner could see the faces of a dozen slaves, their eyes wide in fear. Skinner stepped back and Doggett came to stand next to him. "John, what about the other men?"

Doggett shook his head. "Everyone says the same thing. They heard two loud screams and Jones made it to the stall first. He didn’t stay long and because of the look on Jones’ face, Corporal Roberts took a quick look and then sent Andrews over there to fetch me. Roberts kept everybody else away." Doggett ran his hand over his stubble. "I asked them, sir and they all swear that no one came out of that room. They saw nothing."

"Nothing!" The pounding at his temples returned full force and Skinner glowered at the men, willing them to admit they saw a culprit.

"Sir, I double checked before I got you. They were all awake when the second scream was heard. I already sent two of the boys up there," gesturing up into the hayrack, "they came back down and swear nothing’s been disturbed." Pointing at the floor. "See, there was very little hay after they cleaned up. They were going to wait until the wounded began to arrive. And I’m sure you noticed that there was no hay on the body in there. Finally, when I checked the body, I looked real close at the walls, nothing larger than a squirrel could have made it through any of the holes in the walls."

Skinner put his hands on his hips. "Bull!" At Doggett’s determined expression Skinner relented somewhat. "I know you did as you said, major, its just that there has to be an answer. Post guards all around the building." Skinner paused and looked around. "Where the hell is that butcher, Graves?"

A commotion at the barn doors drew their attention. Skinner heard the swearing, grunting, and grumbling, as people were shoved left and right. He noticed that the crowd had grown to include many white faces as his soldiers strove to see into the barn.

"Get outa my way. Move it." Melvin Frohike finally pushed his way to the front. Taking in the whole scene in two blinks he found his quarry and stood at attention in front of Skinner. "Beggin your pardon, sir. Sergeant Byers is lookin fer ya."

Skinner swore. "What? Now?"

Frohike watched as two men helped Private Jones over to a stack of hay bales and sat him down. "Whale, seems the troops made pretty good time yesterday and taday and they’re 'specting to be here bout sunset."

Skinner didn’t need his pocket watch to know that dawn was only an hour or so away. "Blast!" He needed to clear this mess up before the rest of the troops and General Hooker arrived.

He looked around just as he heard Doggett’s strangled, "No!" and saw her pull back the netting.

"Dana!" He was at her side in two long strides, but not in time to spare her the horror. She stood there rigid and the only warning he had was the soft sighed, "Oh," before she fainted.

He caught her and lifted her in his arms. The forest green dressing gown parted to reveal the white satin and lace nightgown. One arm under her knees, the other cradled her shoulders. He nestled her to him until her nose rested in the vee of his unbuttoned undershirt; her warm breath stirring his chest hair and a dull ache in the pit of his stomach. He looked frantically for some place to lay her down, but saw nothing in the barn that was suitable. Clutching her tightly he walked over to the butler, "bring the brandy." Turning to Doggett he growled, "I want this barn torn apart. I don’t want to hear that the murderer just disappeared into thin air." He was already at the barn doors and people there hastily cleared a path. "Frohike!"

"Yes, sir."

"Find that bastard, Graves!"

Frohike scampered into the dark. Skinner carried Dana into the house and the parlor, but the thought of her laying on the same sofa that Spender had been on changed his mind and he started for the steps. She had already begun to moan softly as he made his way to the landing. As he mounted the remaining stairs, she threw back her head and terrified blue met concerned brown and he watched, spellbound as tears began to fill her eyes. He had just pushed open the door to her room when the sobs shook her entire body. She clutched at him as he tried to set her on the floor. Sighing, he gingerly tried to lay her on the bed but her small hands held tightly. Patting her ineffectively, he finally lifted her up and sat down on the bed and let her cry in his lap. Alvin came in and placed the brandy decanter on the table, along with a glass that he must have picked up on his way upstairs. Skinner saw Langley standing at attention outside her door as the butler gently closed the door behind him.

Skinner longed to lay back and hold her until she slept but he knew he had to get back down stairs. "Ssshhhhh. Dana. Please." He kissed the top of her head. The soft velvet strands smelled of rose water. "Dana?" She looked into his eyes again and he brought his hands up to caress away the tears. She sighed at his touch and he stopped breathing as all reason fled and he brought his lips to hers. It started so sweet, but it had been such a long time and as she opened her lips to him a wave of passion took him and he deepen the kiss, allowing his tongue to gently explore her mouth. Her groan and hungry response drew him to lay her on the bed, covering her with his hard, demanding body. As he broke the kiss he saw the passion but also the shock in her eyes and his groan was only partly due to his desire. Pulling himself up, he looked down at her in confusion. "Dan… Mrs. Mulder. Please, forgive me. I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry." He turned and fled from the room.

Langley was standing at attention, his tunic buttoned, but askew. "Fix your shirt, mister." Skinner growled.

Quailing at the tone, Langley, aggrieved, straightened. "Yes, sir!" He started to rebutton the shirt when Skinner stepped into his personal space. "Nobody, gets near her, you understand me. You check whatever anybody brings for her. And, Langley."

"Sir!"

"She stays in her room until I tell you otherwise."

"Yes, sir!"

Skinner did a quick search of the upper floor. He noticed there were three rooms on Mrs. Mulder’s side of the house. He opened the door next to hers and noticed it was done up in very masculine furnishings. He realized, from the size and the quality that this must have been Captain Mulder’s room. He also noticed that there was a connecting door between this room and the room next door. He tried the knob and it opened easily, quietly. He looked in and saw her standing, staring out into the lightening grey of dawn. Making sure that he closed it as quietly as he could he left the room and checked the room at the front of the house. This was obviously not used very often, but had the same sort of impersonal setup as his own. He entered the six-sided hallway leading to the rooms on the south side of the house. By tonight Generals Howard, Dodge, Logan and perhaps even Hooker or Sherman would be staying here. He would need to make sure that rooms were ready. He thought of General Howard or Sherman sleeping so close to her, the door between the two rooms her only protection. He shook his head. <<<Yeah, and that’s all you want to do. Is protect her, right.>>>

He stomped down the stairs to find Frohike and Doggett waiting for him. The looks on their faces told the story. "Oh God. Now what have you found?" Doggett just turned and walked to the back of the house. Skinner looked at the corporal and ordered, "Go find Captain Stone. If the troops will be here tonight, we have to make the rooms upstairs ready for them. Tell Stone I want to talk to him first before he starts."

A look of profound relief crossed Frohike’s face and Skinner’s dread grew. He walked to the back of the house and saw that Doggett was there, waiting. The maid Ellie had just brought in a huge steaming coffeepot. Skinner accepted a cup of coffee and eyed Doggett before turning back to the maid. "Your mistress is very upset. I want her to stay in bed today. Please take her up a tray."

Ellie whispered. "Yes, mastah."

Skinner snarled. "Don’t call me that. General, or sir is fine. But, I’m not your master, understand!"

Her eyes grew wide and she nodded fearfully before running up the back steps.

Skinner shook his head at his own stupidity before turning to Doggett and sighing. "Show me."

The wreckage was worse than in the stall. Chairs were overturned and crockery was scattered and broken everywhere. Skinner saw the overturned oil lantern and was surprised that the house hadn’t caught on fire. Doggett led the way into the bedroom and the corpse was gruesome, but almost mundane in the wounds. No wild animal had killed the overseer. No, someone with a very large knife and a lot of strength had killed Alex Krycek. Not yet soaked into the hard packed floor the blood pooled around the body. Skinner studied the cabin and realized that except for the furnishings and the one extra room, the abode wasn’t much better than the slave cabins. "Frohike find him?"

"Yeah, he was looking for Graves, who, by the way is still missing. The corporal had checked each of the slave cabins, but couldn’t find anything or anyone who wasn’t supposed to be there. When he stopped here, he thought it was just another cabin until he stepped inside. He didn’t find the body really. Once he saw all the damage out here, he sent one of the men to get me and I found it. There’s no doubt how the killer got out. From what I figure, the person or persons entered the front door and in the confusion of what was going on in the barn attacked Krycek and then either chased or dragged him in here and stabbed him to death, then made their way out of the window. Skinner walked back through the house and stepped outside to find a crowd of onlookers in front of the house - the same onlookers who had been at the barn. "John, I’m going to have to talk to each and every one of these people. You think it was one of them?"

Doggett shrugged. "Had to be, didn’t it. I’m mean, who else? I’ll double check with the pickets, but I don’t think that anyone slipped through."

Skinner stretched and looked up into the brightening blue morning. "Where the hell is Graves?"

"Still looking for him, sir."

Skinner glared at the people before him. "You soldiers, get back to work. If you don’t have any work, then start searching the woods. The person that finds Captain Graves, gets light detail for a week."

The soldiers exchanged looks and one man in back piped up. "What iffen we look together and the both of us find 'im?"

"Then you can split the week, now get crackin!"

Soon the only faces in front of him were black. He sighed and wondered how the hell he was going to do this and still have the grounds ready for tonight. "Look people. I need to know what happened here. You are all going to suffer until the murderer is found. So if you saw anything and are afraid to come forward in front of your friends, then see me privately." He waited a moment, but they all stood there staring at him, not even bothering to look at each other. He shook his head and turned to Doggett. "I see Stone up on the porch, waiting for me. Give me a few minutes with him, then we’ll start on the barn together."

Doggett nodded and when Skinner turned back there was no one between him and the house, the people had all just melted away, back to their chores or cabins. Skinner ran up to the house and motioned for Stone to follow him. They went upstairs and Skinner went into his room and quickly shaved and donned the coat he wore last night. Coming out into the hallway he started to tell Stone what he wanted when the door to her room opened and she stepped out into the hall, ignoring Langley. "General, a moment. Please."

He sighed and warily approached her. "Yes, Mrs. Mulder?"

"I cannot be cooped up in my room all day. Please. I have work to do." Her eyes pleaded with his and he had to harden his heart.

"There will be precious little work done today, ma’am. I hate to tell you this, but your overseer was also found dead." Her look of horror was satisfying, but painful to him. "You understand. I can’t let you out there. Someone has killed two white men on your plantation."

"And you think it’s one of my people? Don’t be ridiculous. Why now? Surely you must see that there is no motive. Regardless, they would never hurt me."

Skinner snapped. "Why? You are their owner in the eyes of the Confederacy. The Proclamation only works if we win. You yourself said that Spender was evil. And, Krycek did your maid a wrong."

She looked at him in exasperation. "You really don’t understand do you? Even if everything you say is true, please. It is my life, my plantation. Please let me…"

Skinner shook his head. "No. But, if you are willing, then you can help Captain Stone, though I fear it will pain you."

"I cannot stay all day in that room. Tell me what you want."

Skinner explained who was coming and what would been needed in the way of rooms for the generals and their aides. Mrs. Mulder stared at him in growing dread. She kept glancing at her room and the room next to hers. Her cheeks grew bright pink in embarrassment, but she nodded her head. "Very well, General Skinner." She turned toward Captain Stone. "Come, sir. Let us prepare my home for further invasion.

::  Chapter 7  ::

Skinner and Doggett quickly searched the barn again and Skinner had to admit it didn’t appear that any human could have gotten to Spender, killed him and then escaped without any of the soldiers seeing him. In fact, it turned out that a small patrol had just passed the barn when the screams had been heard. The patrol had scattered at the noise and had found no one near the outside of the barn. Leaving the problem to Doggett, Skinner hastily gobbled down some breakfast, scalding his mouth on the hot coffee.

Before the sun had completely risen above the eastern horizon, Skinner placed his boot in the stirrup. Swinging his leg over Satan’s saddle, he looked down at this staff. "You have your orders. Major Doggett, I expect to hear that you know who killed the senator and Krycek when I return. Stone…" he sighed and looked up at the window and saw her standing there in his room, "you know what needs to be done, but keep an eye on Mrs. Mulder. If the murderer is a disgruntled slave then she is probably in grave danger."

Stone grinned up a Skinner. "Sir, when I left her she was giving orders to her people and mine. Don’t worry, either I or Langley will stay near her every minute."

"Very good." Skinner sighed and eyed Frohike.

Before he could say anything the corporal snapped to attention. "Don’t ya worry, sir, I’ve got men searchin’ the whole damned place. If the Doc is still here, we’ll find him, general."

Skinner nodded and pulled the reins until Satan was down the lane. Skinner had yet to inspect the Spender land and he wanted to personally tell Colonel Farrell what had occurred and to get a good look at where most of the troops would actually be bivouacked.

The storm had cleansed the air and the sweet smell of summer filled his nostrils. The early-morning was cool and the rain had settled the red Georgia clay’s dust, though he suspected Satan’s hoofs would forever be tinged pink.

He let the horse gallop for a bit, hooves kicking up great clods of clay, the wind whipping across his face. It only took half an hour to reach the border between the two properties and while no sign or post marked the boundary, he knew the minute he crossed into Spender’s land. A sense of dread and anxiety seized him. He slowed the suddenly nervous Satan to a canter and studied the fields with a practiced eye. While the cotton on the Mulder’s place was rich and green and already heavy with unopened cotton, the crop here was stunted with splotches of brown, dead plants throughout the field.

He had noticed the plume of smoke a while back and now he came upon its cause. Crews of men where dragging the field with mules, pulling up the cotton plants and burning them. He hailed one of the men. "Sergeant, how’s your progress?"

"Well sir, that rain made cleanin' the fields a might easier, but wet cotton is the devil ta burn."

"How long will it take to finish?"

The man scratched his head and looked back at the task at hand. "Two, membe three days.

"The troops arrive tonight."

Though he couldn’t be more than twenty, the man had obviously seen enough action to be impressed by the threat. "We’ll do the best we can, though we could use more men."

Skinner nodded, "You’ll have them, sergeant."

Skinner reached the main part of the plantation, the smoky ruins of the big house still smoldered, even after the heavy rain last night. Two brick chimneys were the only reminder of the once wealthy man who lived here. A large tent stood on the pathway off to the side of the house and Skinner spied Farrell giving orders to several men on horseback.

When the colonel spotted his CO, he said something to one of the riders who dismounted and led his horse back to a corral, newly built up-wind of the ruins.

"Colonel, what news have you heard?" Skinner dismounted and a private led his horse away.

"Well I heard there was some interesting doings at your place…too…last night. I was kinda surprised when Doggett sent me more men. They were the ones that told me."

"So you’re aware that the rest of the brigade will be showing up sometime this evening."

"What!" Farrell looked around wildly. "I thought tomorrow at the earliest."

Skinner shook his head. "Tonight, Colonel."

Farrell drew off his wide brimmed hat and slapped it angrily against his thigh. "I can’t promise, sir." His voice dropped a few octaves. "We had some interesting doings ourselves last night. My men didn’t get much, if any sleep."

Skinner wondered briefly if the pounding headache would ever go away. "What happened."

Looking around in embarrassment, Colonel Farrell motioned Skinner to come away from where several men were setting up a blacksmith’s shop.

"Well, sir, you know how it stormed last night? I had set up my tent not far from the store house, sort of as an added precaution, but when I saw the storm clouds, I told the men, if they wanted, they could bed down in the slave quarters, since they were empty anyway. A lot of the boys form Tennessee and Maryland refused outright and pitched their tents, but we’ve got some fellas from Illinois and Ohio and Massachusetts and they all jumped at the chance. Swept them out and pulled some hay in from the barn." Farrell pointed out a large stump for Skinner to sit on, but Skinner waved the offer away. "Well, just after midnight, after the worst of the storm had past, I was making one last round, smoking my pipe, when I noticed Haskell and Dobbins leaving their shack pulling their bedrolls over to the barn. Just as note, general, that barn ain’t fit for horses, let alone my men. I had just started to go see what the problem was when all of a sudden the most horrible screaming started. I ran toward noise and I realized that all the other shacks were empty and men started coming out of the barn. I found out later that most all of the men had given up and gone to the barn, though few of them got any sleep, even there.

Dreading what he would hear, Skinner demanded. "Who was screaming?"

Farrell’s face took on a look of profound awe. "Isaiah," he whispered.

Having expected to hear that Graves had finally been found Skinner was at first confused by the implication of what he had heard. "Isaiah?" Suddenly Skinner’s eyes grew round. "Isaiah Culpepper?"

Farrell nodded. "Yes, sir. I ran into the cabin, my pistol drawn and ready for I-don’t-know-what but he was the only person there. He was huddled in the corner, hugging himself, rocking back and forth, whimpering and moaning and crying all at the same time."

Skinner looked stunned. Isaiah Culpepper was at least four inches taller than Skinner and twice as wide across the chest. He was a blacksmith by trade and as even-tempered a man Skinner had ever met. He had never known the sergeant to touch alcohol, but didn’t shun the men who did, nor was he shunned by them. He was universally respected and devoutly read his bible every night and if permitted all day on Sunday. He was gentle and kind until they got into battle when he became every general’s favorite fighting machine, the men naturally followed him and he had more medals than he could ever wear. Skinner had commanded him at Shiloh and Chickmunga and Culpepper had even saved his life once, though the act had cost Skinner a broken rib. Skinner couldn’t remember Culpepper frightened and the image of terror on Spender’s face came back to haunt him now. "Where is he?"

"The only thing I could do was knock him out cold, sir. God, I hated to do it, but he wouldn’t let me or anyone near him. We finally carried him over to the barn and some of the boys fixed him up a pallet to sleep on. He woke a little while ago, but he just lays there staring into space."

"Where did you find him?"

"Come on, sir. I’ll take you there."

Skinner shook his head, "No, I know you have work to attend to, point it out." He wanted no witness to his investigation, and he couldn’t even tell himself why.

He walked in the direction Farrell pointed and when he reached the cabin, stepped into it. He hadn’t know what to expect but the aura of death and horror enveloped him. Only his stubborn discipline kept him on his feet. He tried to walk farther into the room but it was almost like a physical force was pushing on him. He turned around and studied the packed earthen floor and saw blood appear. Ghostly images flitted just beyond his sight and whispers of tears echoed in his head. Taking a deep breath he realized that he took something of this horrid place into his very soul, but he did not feel sullied by it. He knew what had to be done and he turned finally and walked into the sunshine. Looking around he walked to the another cabin and entered. He could feel some of the anger and hostility here, but it wasn’t as strong, though he knew in his soul that evil resided here.

Finally he stepped into the middle of the slave grounds and looked up into the deep blue sky. Fluffy white clouds belied the terror that had occurred here, not just in the slave cabins, but everywhere on the Spender plantation. Skinner looked to where the men were finishing the bellows for the blacksmith shop and walked over to where the fire was burning hot. He found a large piece of rotted wood and lit it and then walked to the cabin where they had found Isaiah and tossed it in. The wood was old and dry and the straw plentiful enough that it caught and soon the house went up in a blaze. Skinner felt rather than saw the men gather round him and then as if they were freed by his actions, several ran and fired the other buildings. And he could have sworn that he could hear sobbing rise with the smoke and flames.

The rest of his inspection was cursory and he thanked God that he had good men that he could trust under his command. Finally, he entered the barn. Kneeling, Skinner took his handkerchief from his pocket he gently wiped away the spittle from Isaiah’s jaw. "Isaiah, we drove the demons out."

Isaiah met Skinner’s concerned gaze and hoarsely disagreed. "You cain’t drive out the devil, general."

Skinner hesitantly reached out and patted Isaiah’s shoulder. A shudder of understanding past between the two and Culpepper whispered. "You know! You saw it too!"

Taking a deep breath, Skinner lied. "Tell me what you saw, I-I don’t remember too much."

Culpepper started to shake. "Don’t make me, general. Please. The devil was there, but, but, but.…"

Fear more than exasperation forced the words from Skinner’s lips. "Damn it, sergeant! Report!"

Tears sprang to Culpepper’s eyes but he sat up straighter and told his story. "Me and Jakes decided to take the colonel up on his offer. Seemed okay at the time, the wind were pickin’ up and we figured it were drier than tha barn, like. So we grabbed us some hay and put our bedrolls down. Din’ think much about it, figured it was the storm arisin’ an all."

Skinner interrupted, "Didn’t think about what, Isaiah?"

Culpepper shook himself, "You know, sir. That funny feeling, like the hairs on your arms was standin’ up." He waited until Skinner nodded in bewildered agreement. "We had us a lantern from the barn, an’ I read from scriptures. Then we blowed out the light an’ settled down, but jess for a little bit. I tried to sleep, but I tossed ‘n turned. Couldn’t get comferble, ya know? And, Jakes? Well, he got up right after I turned out the light and said, ‘I gotta take a leak,’ only he never comed back, sir. I musta drifted off, but I saw awful things, sir. Bad things." His voice broke. "Evil things bein’ done ta some nigras, sir. Ain’t never seen many of um back home, but they seem okay ya know. No cause for him ta do that to em."

Gently, "Who, Culpepper?"

"Don’ rightly know, general. Some ole guy, lot’s o’wrinkles on his face. He were laughin’ when he…" Culpepper’s voice gave out and Skinner looked around and found a cup of water that someone had left. After he forced the sergeant to drink some he urged him to continue. The rest of the story was as dreadful as his dream had been, only more detailed. He strongly suspected that he knew the names of the two slaves involved. The woman who the old man - Spender? - had brutally raped must have been Sally. And the man – Micah? – chained to the cabin wall and beaten by another man, forced to watch and listen to his wife’s sobbing.

"What about the snake you mentioned, sergeant?"

"Well, sir. After the men finished beatin' the man chained to the wall, the whole room were lit up real purdy like; all bright colors, red and blue and yeller. Like a rainbow back home. Only, outa this here rainbow, this big ole snake reared up and he had teeth a drippin' with blood and the two white men started screamin’ and the snake chased them out, but it were too late. Them slaves was already dead. An’ then the snake turned around and it were watchin’ me, and that’s all I knowed till I woked up here a little while ago."

Skinner stood and reached out his hand. "Come say some words, Isaiah, it will help, I think. Maybe words that should have been said a long time ago."

Culpepper allowed Skinner to help him stand, but he shook his head. "They ain’t the right words, General."

Skinner nodded in understanding. "But they’re the only words we have, Sergeant."

It was late afternoon before Skinner left the Spender plantation. He was bone tired and the place made him feel as dirty as he had felt outside the Sioux camp. He had never been a superstitious man before now, but the evil of the place seeped into his very soul. Even Culpepper reciting from the scriptures hadn’t eased his troubled spirit. Something was nagging at him and though burning the slave quarters had felt right, he felt he was missing something.

As he past the men clearing spots for the troops and their tents he discovered that more men had arrived. The sergeant who he had spoken to this morning was still busy at work and none of the men were resting. Skinner was thankful that the humidity hadn’t returned in full force and, in fact the temperature actually felt several degrees cooler than yesterday.

Even though Satan had been skittish ever since they had set foot on the place, Skinner let the horse set the pace on the way back, though he kept a tight grip on the reins. Just as the rich green of the Mulder plantation came into sight he noticed a very narrow footpath leading back to the east and a compulsion he couldn’t ignore caused him to turn Satan down the path. Only his firm grip and insistent prodding convinced the horse to do as he desired. Finally, Skinner dismounted and led the horse further into the green mottled glen. Tall oaks and maples canopied the whole area, though a few volunteer trees had taken root. He heard the sobbing, but this time there was nothing otherworldly about it. He stopped and rubbed Satan’s muzzel to quiet the horse, "There, boy. Easy now." Looking around he tried to swallow but couldn’t. A deep, profound sadness seeped into him and he tried to figure out why.

"They’re here. They’re all here."

Skinner turned at the sound and was shocked to see Captain Horace Graves leaning against one of the trees, tears streaming down his face. "Who’s here, Graves?"

"All of them. They just dumped them out here. Just dig a hole and cover it up. Can’t you feel it."

Understanding finally dawned. Of course, you had to do something with the bodies. "How do you know, Captain?"

Graves, who had never looked so sober in his life just shrugged. "I know you won’t believe me but I saw them. Last night, this morning? I can’t remember."

Skinner sighed, "How did you get here, Graves?"

Graves looked around. "I’m not sure. After the boys bedded down last night, I went over to Krycek’s cabin. He invited me in for a drink while the rain died down. All of a sudden we heard the screaming coming from the barn and we started to run out but this man, this…this…slave ran in. I don’t remember seeing him around, but he had a huge scar running down his face, his eye was gone and he had this knife. Krycek reached for his gun, but the man backhanded him and sent him clear across the room, knocking over a table and two chairs. I just stood there watching the knife and I tried to lunge at him, but he just pointed the knife and me and said ‘I ain’t got no cause to be hurtin you. But, this un? It’s time for him to die and not hurt no more people.’ Well, Krycek stumbled to his feet and he reached out for me and I thought he wanted my help, but instead he grabbed me and pushed me toward the man. Well, he just sidestepped as easy as pie and I go sailing into the wall and I hit my head and pass out for a little. When I woke up, I looked around and found Krycek’s body in the bedroom with all these people standing around him, looking at him."

Graves started shaking so bad that Skinner reached into his coat and pulled out his flask. He handed it to Graves and was surprised when the man took just a sip and handed it right back. "I’ve never seen so many people in a room and they were all looking down at his body, just standing there not saying a word and it took me forever to realize that I could see right through them." He gulped. "I think I might have said something cause they all turned and looked at me and I thought they were going to hurt me or something cause they started to walk toward me. Well let me tell you, I got out of there pretty quick, but they just kept following me. I ran into the woods, I was so scared and then I fell down and I thought they were going to get me. But all of a sudden they just turned a little ways and they walked away. I thought about getting back to camp, but I couldn’t, I didn’t know where I was and it was so dark, and I saw one of them beckon me. It was like I had no will of my own and they led me here." The tears started again. "They just stood here looking at me, like I could do something and then they just disappeared. But I know they’re here."

Skinner looked around again, noted the rich green undergrowth, even in the absence of any direct sunlight. He rubbed the back of his neck, then took a long pull from the flask and put it back in his coat pocket. He took off his hat and lowered his head and whispered. "Rest in peace and may God have mercy on your souls."

He looked up to find Graves staring at him. "You believe me?"

Skinner nodded. "Yeah, Captain, I believe you. Come on lets get back."

They only had to walk a short way before a picket found them. Offering the doctor his horse, the private pulled Skinner aside. "Sir, leave him with me. I’ll get him back, but you best get back pretty quick, there’s word that as soon as any of us found you, you were to be told Major Doggett is looking for you."

Skinner mounted his horse and looked over at Graves. "Get back and get some rest. Don’t worry about the senator. He’s past your…" Skinner let his usual insult die on his lips. "The senator is dead. But there may be wounded in need of your services tonight or tomorrow at the latest." With that he galloped off.

He reached the house and dismounted, handing the reins to a nearby private. He ran up the steps and was surprised to see no one inside. It was late afternoon and he expected men to be busy with final preparations. Checking the large parlor he was pleased to see everything ready for Hooker. He glanced into the dining room and noted that the table was set for dinner. He heard nothing upstairs and bellowed, "Langley?"

"Sir? Out here, general, sir."

Skinner marched through the house and out the back and stopped short. Dogget was standing with his hand on his hips, Mrs. Mulder was standing between he and her butler and Langley was hopping from one foot to the next. Skinner was just in time to hear Doggett growl. "Mrs. Mulder, he has to move. If he is shielding the murderer down there, then…"

"There is no murderer down there, Major. Dana looked up at Skinner and her eyes pleaded with him. "Please. I swear it."

Skinner stepped down and walked to the smokehouse where they were standing. "Major, what’s the problem?"

Doggett sighed and looked away from slave and mistress. "Sir, I checked everywhere, including the big house, sir and we found a hidden passage by the fireplace. I followed it under the house and found a huge cellar with no outside entrance that I could find but a passageway leading out of it had caved in. I took some measurements and came back out and I swear it has to lead over this direction. I went to check inside when Alvin here pushes me away." Doggett rubbed his reddening chin and Skinner realized that Alvin had done more than push. Looking at the butler he finally noticed that Doggett had done a little more than push back too. The shiner, even against his deep brown skin would still be very noticeable soon.

"Is that why you sent word that I was to be found?"

Doggett looked confused for a moment and then shook his head. "Oh, no. Sorry, sir. We got word about two hours ago that General Hooker will be an extra day after all, he had to stop at Roswell and check into some kind of problem there or something. He’s sending the wounded on, but they’re in wagons and won’t be here until tomorrow morning. Oh, Doctor Williams is with them which is good, because we still haven’t found Graves."

Skinner studied butler and the smokehouse. "I found Graves. He’s coming back with one of the pickets. He had a rather rough night of it last night." Doggett looked up in surprise. He couldn’t remember when Skinner had spoken so softly about the doctor. Skinner let out a deep breath. "Mrs. Mulder, what’s down there? Or should I say, who’s down there?"

Tears welled in her eyes. She looked over her shoulder at Alvin for just a moment and then locked her eyes on Skinner’s. "They’re runaways."

"I see." Skinner sighed, "Get them out of there, Mrs. Mulder. Call them up. Move away, Alvin. I don’t want anyone, including any of them to be hurt."

Skinner accompanied Mrs. Mulder inside and watched as she firmly grasped a huge nail where a ham would have been hung. A panel in the wood covered floor creaked back and Skinner peered down into the dark passageway. "Tell them to come out Mrs. Mulder."

Twenty men, women and children huddled in small groups, looking around them fearfully. Skinner and Doggett stared at them in awe. A crowd of slaves and soldiers once again formed as word spread of the discovery.

Skinner demanded. "How long have they been down there?"

Dana started to answer but the butler stepped forward. "Since Monday night, general."

"Monday?" That was five, no six days ago. They’ve been down there all that time?" Doggett was incensed.

Skinner shook his head. "Not now, John." He looked at each man carefully. "Have any of you been out of the cellar for anything?"

They all shook their heads in denial. He studied the biggest of the men carefully but, while many of them were injured, one had no hand, another walked on a wooden stump, all had their faces more or less intact. "Doggett, get these people some food." He sniffed, "And lord, let them bathe somewhere." He looked at Alvin and insisted, "Walk with me…sir."

Dana looked from one to the other. "We’ll walk together."

Skinner inclined his head. "Very well, madam."

The three of them stood at the high bluff looking down at the dark river below. Skinner waited patiently and was surprised when she began speaking first. "I’ve known Reverend Kersh most of my life."

"Reverend Kersh?" Skinner asked softly.

"That’s right, general. I was ordained from a small college in upstate New York. I moved to the Boston area when I got my first church. I ministered to many of Captain Scully’s crew members." The words were soft spoken and refined. As refined as they had been all along.

"Scully?"

Dana took up the story. "That’s my father. He had rather liberal ideas and I met Reverend Kersh when I was ten or eleven. I would play with his son, Jacob, along the docks. I was 15 I think before I realized that my parents were both abolitionists. It wasn’t until the trip back from Savannah that I found out they were members of the underground railroad movement. Poppa would bring back men when he could and momma would find them homes. When I got married they warned me not to tell Fox anything about them. It was hard, but after talking to him about so many things I discovered that he was rather blind about "the peculiar institution" that is slavery. He struggled with the issue and I finally came to understand that he, like many down here, just couldn’t change. I never told him about my parents, nor did I try and help any runaways directly. Until Rever…Alvin showed up on my back porch a month before the war."

Reverend Kersh studied Skinner carefully. "I no longer felt I was doing enough in Boston to help my people, general. I began to take a more active part in getting them out of the south. On one trip, we were nearly caught. I was bringing a woman and her three-year-old son back and the boy took ill. I knew that Dana lived nearby and I asked for her help. Even though she was concerned about her husband finding out, she still helped them."

Skinner took a deep breath, "Why are you here on the plantation, reverend?"

Dana answered softly. "When Reverend Kersh asked for my help that time, it was easy really. But later, when the word got out that I had helped and others began to come to my door, even though it was harder, more dangerous, I couldn’t say no. It was a mistake for me to move here. I know that now. I know that as good a master as Fox was, slavery was and is still very wrong. I tried to make him see that, but he couldn’t. So I worked behind his back. Our old butler, Josiah, knew what I was doing and showed me the secret passageway. I know think that Fox even knew it was there. About two years into the war, Alvin showed up on my doorstep hurt, a bullet in his shoulder. I thought I could shelter him and get him north, particularly since Fox was down state signing up with the Confederacy. Only he came home and I had to lie to him. I told him that I had bought Alvin to replace our old butler who was very old and ill. He was so excited about fighting that he didn’t question it. Of course by that time, he had met Melissa and become smitten with the idea that they were destined to be together. I was feeling very low at that point and I insisted that Alvin stay on and that we could get more and more people out, together. Everything was working wonderfully until Fox brought Alex home."

She turned to finally meet Skinner’s gaze. "Please, let him go back to the house and help. A lot of those people will be scared and they need him there."

Alvin smiled ruefully. "You think I don’t know what you did, Dana? For me?"

She hung her head and whispered. "Please, Reverend. Just go and help them."

Skinner jerked his head back toward the house. "Go on then, but I will want to talk to you later."

She took a deep steadying breath and hugged her shoulders. "Fox made some kind of deal with Spender. Evidently, Krycek and young Jeffery never got along and Spender was about to let him go. Well Fox didn’t realize that Krycek was as bad as both of the Spenders. I think that he thought he was doing everybody a favor." Her voice dropped and Skinner had to stand right behind her to hear. "I suspect that he wanted me to fall in love with Alex, so I would have something, like he had with Melissa."

She wailed and tried to run away, but he pulled her to his chest and held her tightly. "Sssh. You don’t have to say anymore. I think I understand. Krycek found out about you and Alv…the reverend and he threatened to expose him and…"

She turned in his arms and looked up at him furiously. "Do you know what they would have done to him? I tried to get him to leave, but he kept saying just one more group. With the war it was becoming more and more desperate. He was trying to get some of the worst cases away from Spender’s plantation. Oh God. Do you know the stories that we kept hearing? Even little Sookie must have seen things while they were there, even though Fox brought Ellie and Sookie home when he brought Alex. I didn’t realize, until Alvin told me, that Alex was Sookie's father. I don’t know what story Alex gave Fox, we had pretty much stopped talking by then, but Alex loved to torment Ellie and one day he caught her carry up some blankets that needed cleaning from the cellar, blankets that had been used by some of the runaways. Thank God they had left, but he knew something was going on down there and so he started watching. I followed Alvin down there one night to help clean up. Only the three of us knew, though I think a few other suspected. Well Alex thought…."

"Krycek thought you and your butler were carrying on?" Skinner asked in amazement, ignoring the fact that the same thought had skittered across his own mind a day ago.

She nodded. "He threatened to tell Fox. I don’t know what Fox would have done if he had thought I was sleeping with Alvin, but I begged Alex not to tell. I thought that I could get Alvin to leave but I couldn’t tell him why. He would have killed Alex for sure, or tried to. I tried one more time to talk reason with Alex but he was drunk and he said that if ‘I slept with him too’ then he wouldn’t tell Fox." She pulled away from Skinner. "What was I supposed to do?" She turned and walked slowly back to the house."

Part 8

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