Midday the snow arrived, shrouding the island in near blizzard conditions again.
The hurried work was now achieving beyond protection. A larger barracks with a fire pit brought a minimum of comfort and warmth to the men. Rudimentary food of pork and beans eaten. Shortly after the snow fell, the tired men began taking turns to sleep.
Before finding a corner in the cramped barracks filled with smoke and the scent of pine, Robert ordered four large fires set to keep the encampment well lit. The Robber King seemed less inclined to attack during the daylight hours. It was a simple action, but any effort to put the Robber King off balance was worthwhile.
Robert drifted to sleep, wondering if he was taking the proper steps to prepare for battle.
In his dreams, a tall, elegant woman stood on the porch of a modest home surrounded by fields and a smattering of buildings. The buildings tended, painted, and rid of the ivy that grew incessantly in the area south of Macon. People, black and white, worked the farm for the pay handed out by the elegant woman in her white dress. Food set ready to eat on a long table next to the house in the shade cast by an immense elm tree. Tired but happy people sat at the table while the woman attended their meal, serving ducted water here, or more portions there, her smile of welcome genuine, her love true as she glanced at Robert in his seat at the head of the table.
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This was his home, Robert’s south, where his friends were of all colors and all free men working the farm for a share of the profit.
What clouds that threatened the farm came from the east, not north, as war brewed over the horizon.
As his wife walked to the house intent on another pitcher of water, a man dressed in blue stepped from the kitchen door, his posture and expression clearly speaking of arrogance in abundance. The lieutenant said casually as he pulled his revolver from its holster and aimed at Maria’s head.
Robert stood with a stab of fear in his heart as the madman’s voice resonated in his ear.
“Major...”