Mansion of Compassion

By Kenneth Berryhill

Mansions of Compassion



Two a half years in its creation, my novel, Mansions of Compassion, is set in pre and post Civil War years in and about New Orleans, Louisiana.

In New Orleans, on a bay inlet peninsula, was once a flourishing hotel, The French Quarter, resort that hosted the elite of society men and women of southern grace and charm.

The water inlet, known to native Frenchmen and well-to-do alike is simply, The Chateau.
The Chateau Laurent, with its lush greenery and red clay high cliffs, could not be seen from the bay and is only accessible for visitors from New Orleans by flat bottom river boats, guided only by seasoned river pilots from the Chateau or from New Orleans itself.

Antebellum mansions and several huge country houses, belonging to affluent cotton planters and politicians are hidden behind manicured acreage lawns and huge weeping willow trees. Prosperous vineyards and a huge orchard grace the countryside.

Decades after its huge success the Chateau Laurent falls into a state of economic disaster and decay. With it's original corrupt leaders gone and no younger generation to re-populate the once beautiful Chateau, The New Orleans New DayPreparatory School for Girls, as well, The French Quarter Hotel looks doomed.

















A small pier, facing the bay, and away from the shallow rocks of the back waters berth deep hulled foreign frigates that arrive to sell apparel fashions and slaves to the highest bidders and wares to the not-so-affluent main populace of native employee Islanders.

The Isle is governed by two of its original wealthy elder settlers, Irishman John Lockridge and Englishman Isiah Crowe, together, at first they built an honest enterprise for the entertainment of the Southern elite and share the proceeds with the their employee Islanders.

John Lockridge and his family own a huge sprawling antebellum mansion called Walnut Manor, in which they host elaborate barbeques for elbow rubbing politicians and bureaucrats, on business trips from Georgetown, New York City, Baltimore, Richmond and Atlanta.
In addition, he owns several fast racehorses, and will stable private owned racehorses for the affluent clientel.

Powerful money changes hands at the oval race track known as Queen`s Way, the same bettors are invited to the dock area where they can choose from an array of imported apparel from the waterfront gazebos, domestic hand made custom carriages, purchase a tax free slave or two, or purchase quilts for the family back home.

Isiah Crowe also owns a stately house on the Isle and, although not as wealthy as John Lockridge, he is the other business partner and the point man for scheduling events, paying the employee Islanders and making sure that the well-to-do visitors have all of the opportunity they need to spend their money.
A shrewd and calculating man, he doesn`t have Lockridges pleasant mannerisms, wit and class.




He doesn`t reinvest in the Isle, but takes his share of the proceeds to Georgetown where in the off season he builds and and operates a lucrative import and export dock, which he calls The Georgetown Wharf.
When at the Isle, the wharf is managed by his cunning Barrack Master.

Weary of its small handout proceed economy and the administration`s heavy handedness, many descendants of the original Islanders come to age in their own right and move away, to spoken of places that the rich southern visitors are from, or cities that the northern visitors are from, big city places that are talked about but not seen, like New York City, Baltimore or Philadelphia.

While John Lockridge lies ill with a devastating stroke, Isiah soon realizes that with the departure of more and more of the young populace the future of the Isle is gone and so are his investments in the racetrack and dock.

In the next two years, his share of the Isles profits dwindle, while the wharf takes shape and thrives in Georgetown.
Isiah kn

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 13, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483679938

Kenneth Berryhill

The acclaimed author’s themed genre of another work of historical fiction strives to a triumphed cause with cleverly mingled sub-themes. With overwhelming challenges, a cast of common and affluent parents will approach a major set of controversial circumstances that involves their son and daughter. A believable resolution is only possible with the creative portrayal of clever and yet compelling approaches of problem solving. Overcoming traditional obstacles with careful tact and wit will eventually result in change in this historical yet compelling steamy southern novel. Other novels by the same author include Isle of the Wind, The Treehouse Society, Bull Knuckle Cafe, Mansions of Fire, and The House of Arla Roe. In addition to creating challenging themed novels with ever-changing plot twists the author enjoys cooking, camping and fishing.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Destructive Plans

A young and weary Union courier stopped and tied his horse in front of the captain’s quarters. He’d traveled long, the blazing sun burned his back and shoulders, his mouth felt like sandpaper and speaking had become challenging.

Finally, this miserable journey has ended, he sighed as he wiped sweat from his oily brows with the back of his dusty hand. He hadn’t even washed his hands in weeks. Right then, however, all he could think about was getting out of the heat, indoors, and getting a cool ladle of water. Unlike the water he’d been forced to drink in the battlefield, the water he would soon consume would likely not make him ill.

He stood in the shade, under a tree, to relax for a few moments. It provided a welcome relief from the sweltering heat, but he knew he couldn’t stay there long. He had an important notice concerning a change of orders in his saddlebag for the captain, who had held his cavalry back, pending further word. It’s delivery would have to wait two more minutes because he was so hot and tired that he thought he might faint if he didn’t take a moment and rest.

He felt his heart slowing and caught his breath, then opened his eyes and forced himself to move. Every muscle in his body begged for sleep, but he knew he couldn’t quench his body’s desire just then. He still felt a bit dizzy, but he’d known better than to stop for water on the way there. He had important business that needed to be tended to. The courier opened the door to an impatient captain.

Well, it’s about time! the captain exclaimed as he stood up, emerging fully from behind his makeshift desk, What in blazes took you so long? When your country needs you, boy, you make haste or don’t serve it at all!

Sorry, sir! the courier replied as he handed over the document, I had horse trouble near Baton Rouge. He had to have a new shoe put on, so I was delayed… but I got here as fast as I could. I need some water really bad myself, sir, no disrespect intended. If you have none, I will go find some.

The captain looked the boy over and, for the first time, noticed how pale he looked. His skin was scorched, but his face was drained of all the color. His eyes were somewhat glazed over with dark circle under them. He probably hadn’t slept in days.

I think I was a bit harsh on you, the captain admitted, You look ready to pass out. Are you feeling well?

Well enough, sir, but my head hurts and I’m a bit dizzy, the boy replied.

Very well, then, the captain replied as he accepted the document. You could use some water. Help yourself to the barrel.

It was a merciful sentence to the sweaty courier, who had long ago, ran out of canteen water. He had brought extra water with him when he left, but it wasn’t apparently enough. He was so thirsty that he thought if he hadn’t arrived when he did, he might have passed out and maybe perished under the blistering heat of the sun.

He guzzled down three big glasses of water. Between his second and third glass of water, he took a seat in the captain’s office as, with his nose still in the papers, the captain mumbled, Sit down, boy. You look terrible!

The captain read the document with interest, but kept his eye on the thirsty courier. The thought crossed the captain’s mind that, if the boy’s appearance failed to improve soon, he might have to summon a doctor.

Don’t drink it all so fast like that, son. You’ll get sick. Take that ladle and drink slow and easy!

Yes, sir! the young man gulped between swallows. He tried to slow down, but he really didn’t slacken his pace much. His throat was so parched that it hurt to swallow until he started drinking his third glass of water. He saturated his hand with water, too, at that point, and wet his face down. This accomplished, his appearance improved considerable and the captain knew he would be all right.

The captain read the orders with greater interest now. His direct order wasn’t what he’d expected. He wanted to read them twice just to make sure he understood them.

Have you had enough water, boy? You can fill your canteen if you wish, the captain offered, and the boy decided to do just that.

Go see the quartermaster. He’ll give you some supper and put you up for the night. Eat something, boy. Consider that an order, the captain said as he folded the order.

Thank you for the water and for letting me sit down, sir, the courier said as he departed.

Alone in the office now, the captain knew he had a big task ahead of him, one he wasn’t sure that he wanted to carry out, but he knew he had to. The captain had been ordered to take his battalions of cavalry and enter New Orleans from the west and stage a surprise, nocturnal raid of fiery pilferage to strike fear into the hearts and minds of the slave-holding inhabitants. It wasn’t what he had expected or would’ve done, given a choice, but he had his official orders.

Perhaps this war will end soon and life can be peaceful again, the captain sighed, whispering slightly under his breath. He knew better than to get his hopes up.

The Union wanted a complete surrender. The captain would assemble and organize his battalions that very night. The order weighed heavy on his mind. He knew that innocent people who were just living their normal lives would die that night, but war was war and casualties happened. Still, knowing that he and his troops would be responsible for extinguishing human lives burdened him, like it would any decent human being.

God, I hate war, he said aloud. He wanted to delay this, but he knew it would have to be done. He also knew that he had to obey orders. The remainder of the day passed more quickly than he wanted it to.

Summoning his subordinates near twilight, after they’d quickly eaten supper, he detailed the plan as fast as he could. They didn’t have any time to waste, and there would be little sleep for any of them that night. They had to get moving. The captain split the battalion into three groups, which formed three straight lines of horses with men on their backs. Each of the battalion’s soldiers had a lit, wooden torch in their hands as they followed their respective leaders on horseback.

Alright, boys! the captain hollered out to the troops, It’s time to teach these rebels a lesson. Let’s show them that we mean business!

With an almost eerie glow about them, the army moved forward in rows of two abreast. They would travel about twenty miles down the packed dirt road and start the assault by burning matter, lighting whatever trash, trees or bushes they could, then loop back and light the city ablaze as they returned to their present location.

The fiery destruction of buildings and fields would prove to be the most vital action, leading to their ultimate victory. But there was one catch. They didn’t want to kill any coloreds. Just because the colored peoples’ masters were for slavery didn’t mean they deserved to die or that the soldiers with the Union Army were.

Their commanding officer made it clear to the soldiers that the starving nigger slaves residing in shacks were to be left alone. They were the victims, not the villains. The fiery act of intimidation that would soon transpire was meant to strike an awesome fear into the white, middle and upper class citizens of the Confederacy, causing them to surrender and pledge allegiance to the Union.

Ben awoke to the resounding thunder of horses’ hooves in the distance. It took a moment for his foggy mind to wake up enough for him to realize what was happening. He’d slept very soundly until just a few moments before.

What in the world in going on? he wondered out loud as he leapt from his bed and dashed to the window. Peering out of his window and following the sound to beyond the tree line, he could see a multitude of Union soldiers with lit, wooden torches.

HOLY MOSES! he screamed. His heart began to pound as he tore through the clothes in his closet. The room was still dark, but at that point, he didn’t care what he looked like. He wasn’t thinking about whether or not his clothes would match; he was thinking about keeping his home and family safe.

For him, getting dressed seemed to take an eternity. He knew his family could be in real danger. The Yankees didn’t care who they hurt or what they damaged. Ben knew he had to hurry or he could be killed, or worse, he realized that his parents could be. It sent chills up his spine thinking about that.

Scrambling towards his parents’ bedroom door, he yelled, Yankees! They are invading!

His father immediately bounded out of the bed and bolted towards the noise to see for himself. Elizabeth, Ben’s mother, and Amanda, his little sister, both appeared in the upstairs hallway at about the same time. Each held a candle holder and a lit candle. They had also heard, and been awakened by, the thunderous noise from the road.

Damn it all! John cursed, What do they want? Who will die tonight? Hasn’t there been enough death?

Look at all of them, father! There must be two hundred of them… and they aren’t here on a social call. What are we going to do? Ben asked in wide-eyed horror.

Those men are Yankee soldiers! Elizabeth muttered under her breath. The reality of the situation was still sinking in as she said, What if they steal our things? What if they kill us? What if they want something and we can’t give it to them? Do something! The Yankees are our enemies!

But they can’t be Yankees! Ben, is this a bad dream? Amanda demanded in terror.

I wish it was! Ben declared.

We never see Yankee soldiers at this edge of New Orleans, Amanda answered back, What do you suppose they are doing here?

I don’t know, but this isn’t good. Get inside and lock the house! John’s father ordered, and that’s exactly what they did. Ben made sure his father had access to the gun in the house, and then, when he knew his family was as safe as they could be, he climbed out the back window on the main floor of the house, which proved more difficult with the large gun in his hand. His mind was elsewhere at that point.

Ben secured his mother and sister, then double checked all the windows and doors to make sure they were secure; he closed the one his father had opened. Assured that his own family was safe, Ben immediately thought about Gabrielle and her well-being, but didn’t reveal his concern to his family. The invading Union Army moved on down the road. As the last of the horsemen passed the house, Ben had already made his way downstairs in the darkness, making it appear as though he wanted to further investigate the mysterious appearance of Union cavalry soldiers with lit torches in the middle of the night.

Opening the front door as quietly as he could, he could feel and smell the dirt that the horses had kicked up on the dusty road as it blew against his skin, carried by the wind. He stifled a sneeze. Stepping out onto the front lawn, he could see the last of the riders, far ahead, a great distance down the road, almost past Chateau Villa. To his horror, he watched helplessly as one of the last Yankees threw his torch toward an abandoned out building on the Chateau Villa’s property. His father, fully dressed by then, and concerned for his safety, finally arrived on the front lawn.

What are they doing? He asked. Ben didn’t answer for a split second because he was so shocked at what he was witnessing. He continued to watch a moment longer and finally surmised what they were up to.

One of the last of them threw his torch at a building near the Chateau Villa, He answered with squinted eyes, I think they want us to surrender, so they are going to destroy as much of this city as they can.

His father said nothing. There was nothing he could say or do at that point. Ben watched in dumbstruck horror as the blaze consumed the wooden out building, and then another torch was thrown at other out buildings on the other side of the road. John, Ben’s father, and Ben, watched as the horizon down the dusty road turned into a seemingly endless expanse of orange glow. In the distance, they could hear Yankee soldiers cheering.

Oh my Lord! John gasped, Ben, we all have to leave… now. Get Mammy up, too. Hurry up! They’ll be here next, when they double back.

Do you think so, Father? Ben asked.

We had best better gather up all of the things that we want to keep and load up the wagon. We only have a few minutes, so make haste! I am sure they will be coming back. Like I say, we have only minutes. Have Mammy get up. I don’t have her work dresses dry. She can help you load the wagon in her night clothes. Everyone needs to get some extra clothes and food. We need to leave, and we need to get out of here as soon as we can! MOVE!

Ben could see several darkened, shadowy figures near the Chateau Villa mansion’s property, but none of them seemed to be Gabrielle, the young girl he hoped to marry one day. She was beautiful, talented and had a mind of her own. He really liked the fact that, unlike a lot of women, she wasn’t afraid to stand up for her convictions.

His eyes scanned for her one last time. No, she wasn’t in the group of people outside her home. He wondered if she knew what was happening or if she was asleep and didn’t know about the invading Union cavalry with flaming torches. He couldn’t afford to risk her death, even if it meant jeopardizing his own safety, but Ben also knew that he’d have to move fast. He made his move without thinking.

John looked back for a moment at his own whitewashed La Rue St. Lazar mansion and then looked toward where Ben had been standing. Ben wasn’t there. John looked about, panicking a little. Then, he spotted his son; he was sprinting towards the Chateau Villa mansion as fast as he could.

John watched in disbelief as Ben disappeared into the darkness of the night and the dust clouds on the road. Eventually, his shadow could be seen mingling with the others in the distance. There was no way for John to know which one his son was. He feared for Ben. His son had always been impulsive, even to the point of being somewhat rude and abrasive, but the situation he’d now put himself in was extremely dangerous. What if he got burned or killed?

Where’s Ben? Amanda asked as she snuck out the door and stood by her father, attempting to remain unseen by any of the Yankees. John just sighed and nodded toward the Chateau Villa. She then realized that Ben was so concerned about Gabrielle’s safety that he was willing to leave his own family behind.

Oh, dear Lord, have mercy, Amanda whispered, saying it as more of a prayer than anything else.

They seem to be burning and destroying everything. Before Ben took off running, I told him that we should pack up the wagon and leave. When I looked about, he was gone! I don’t even know why he likes that girl! He’s willing to die… for her? John hollered in horror.

He loves that beautiful French girl, John, Elizabeth muttered, as she stared down the road.

I’m afraid that they will double back and throw torches at our place. We’ll be left out in the cold with nothing but the shirts on our backs if we don’t do something. I mean, we have to get a move on. With or without Ben, we have to do something. I really wanted Ben to help, but he cares more about that girl than us, He sighed.

John, he loves Gabrielle. You don’t have to like her, but he loves her. You stay here in case Ben comes back, or something happens to him. I’ll get Mammy and we’ll start packing up as fast as we can! Elizabeth recommended.

Alright then, that will have to do. Once that’s done, we can leave and turn right on Sugar Haven Road. The Union cavalry didn’t take that way in and they don’t know that it’s there. It will lead us away from New Orleans, He replied.

John didn’t quite notice as his wife slipped away and set off on her mission. His mind was racing. Should he wait for Ben or hurry and retrieve the wagon and get the horses? Should something happen to Ben, he could never forgive himself for not being there. Looking back at the house, he could see both his wife’s and daughter’s shadows scurrying against the candle lights that they held. They were packing clothes and family papers just as fast as they could. They worked quietly and efficiently. Obviously, Elizabeth understood the severity of the situation. He could sense that. Unbeknownst to him, Mammy had set to work packing things upstairs.

For Ben, the distance to the Chateau Villa seemed longer on foot than what he’d remembered, even when he was on horseback. Nearly breathless, he hid behind a huge tree. Turning his head, he could barely make out the outline of his own house. The Chateau Villa mansion was much closer at that point, but his family’s dwelling seemed so far away. For the first time, he wondered if he’d done the right thing. What if his family was killed or their home was destroyed? He thought about turning back momentarily, then decided against it.

The Union cavalry were indeed burning everything that their torches could reach. They didn’t seem to care what it was. Outbuildings, parched grass lines and dry tree limbs were blazing. The increasing amount of fire light only served to provide more illumination for them. The drought-stricken land and sun-scorched foliage burned with ease.

Ben crouched down and watched as the fires crept towards nearby, wooden country houses and out buildings. Many of the country houses had been vacated during the exodus. The invaders didn’t seem to notice, as they continued their burning rage, that no occupants were leaving their properties. Ben did notice, and it struck him with great interest, that the Union soldiers avoided intentionally setting the buildings that appeared to be slave cabins on fire.

Ben saw that he had to hurry because it would be just a short time before the fire would creep closer to the Chateau Villa. The split rail fences were already blazing. Gabrielle hadn’t come running out the front doors. He was afraid that she was in her bedroom, sleeping, on the upper level of the home.

He watched as the ground burned and trees cracked as they caught the wind. He ran towards the house and hammered on the door. It was locked and didn’t budge when he tried to enter. He looked for another way in as the wind picked up; it was fanning the merciless flames. He wondered if the Chateau Villa mansion was empty. No activity could be seen. There was no candlelight from inside, and no stablemen, no nothing. It was completely darkened.

As he continued to watch in shocked horror, windswept branches covered in embers from several burning trees settled onto the roof of the mansion. The roof started to smolder. Still, there was no movement from inside of the Chateau Villa mansion. Ben began to think that maybe they really weren’t there.

Further away now, the Union troops said nothing as they pitched their burning torches here and there, with random, guiltless abandonment. Several entered the paved drive of the Chateau Villa and pitched their torches at anything that they could see that would burn. Ben watched as the foliage surrounding the pond where he and Gabrielle had secretly met and talked slowly became engulfed in flames.

Finally, a shadowy figure appeared, emerging from the Chateau Villa mansion’s side door, and then another followed. Moving away from his sanctuary provided by his hiding place, he could see that there was an aura of confusion around the darkened shadows, which were not shadows at all, but humans. They were servants to Gabrielle’s father. They apparently didn’t know that to do.

The Union cavalry galloped away as their sickening, fiery deeds caught hold. They didn’t look back. They didn’t even think twice about what they’d done.

Gathering up all of his will, and clearly seeing that there was no one but him near, and nothing between him and the Chateau Villa mansion, he ran toward it. Gabrielle had just emerged from the side door, and just by coincidence, he happened to be there.

Gabrielle! he screamed from a short distance, concealed by thickening smoke until he took a few quick paces towards her. She saw him then, but he still couldn’t see her. He felt very dizzy. He coughed and said, Union Army cavalry are setting fire to just about everything!

Ben, Ben! She replied through her weakness and strain, I know! The house is on fire! Oh, Jesus, Ben! My father is ill and in bed. He has been sick since last Monday sometime; he might be near death by now!

Finally reaching her in the misty, smoky, steamy, night he hugged her and stood in a tight embrace for what seemed like an eternity, though it was a mere second.

Can your father walk? Ben asked.

No, not on his own, She replied as she looked nervously about.

Where is he? I will help you with him, how’s that? He asked.

Come on! I will quickly show you! The mansion will burn, so we must hurry! The fire cannot be stopped, she hastily explained with a French accent. Ben had known her to accentuate a French accent only in times of personal despair and defeat. This certainly was one of those.

She quickly led Ben by the hand into the smoky Chateau Villa mansion and up the winding, massive stairwell. From there, she opened her father’s bedroom door and Ben saw that Pierre was in an almost paralyzed state. Ben could see that he was so sick that he could barely breathe or whisper. He was just staring at the ceiling.

Ben screamed at him, but he got no response. A vibrant orange and red licking fire from the roof could be seen from the open window. Suddenly, the fire danced onto the ornate curtains and a fireball soon ensued as the flames licked ever upward towards the ceiling. Still, Pierre didn’t move or seem to know what was happening to his mansion. At that point, there was little time to waste. The only thing that was working in their favor was that the house was mainly made of brick, which burned slower than wood.

Get out of here! Ben ordered Gabrielle.

There is a buggy in the brick stable, she said quickly, Let me run and get it. Samson is the only horse that is still here.

What happened to the other horses? Ben asked, but he was already lifting Pierre and only half listening to her answer.

They were taken to the other stable across town or stolen by Yankee renegades, she replied.

We don’t have much time. I have to move him as soon as possible. Go, then. I will carry him downstairs. We have to be fast about getting him out of here. The fire is moving towards the interior very quickly, Ben muttered as he covered his mouth to prevent smoke inhalation.

Gabrielle disappeared from the bedroom. Ben could hear her running down the stairs.

Ben looked at Pierre, and saw not a slave trader, or a man with too much money and a shadowy, even dark, past, but a man he had known before. This was the same man that he had once admired in a painting. He was a man that people saw as a man of wealth and character, a champion of the poor, and someone who had once been nothing, but rose above his own impoverished childhood.

It was obvious that now, he was so sickly that he could die. Noticing that Pierre had no shoes on his feet, he found a pair of house slippers by the side of the massive bed and quickly put them on his feet. If Pierre knew that Ben was at his bedside, he didn’t show it. He was just too sick and weak.

Ben picked him up in his arms again and immediately realized that he wasn’t as heavy as what he had imagined. Making his way down the hallway, he stopped at the top of the winding stairs momentarily to reposition Pierre so he could breathe the best he could, then proceeded downward. The orange, glowing fire was becoming more intense now. From a gaze at a parlor mirror, he realized that it was going to be just a matter of minutes until this very stairway that he now stood on would be ashes. He reached the bottom moments later. The house was beginning to fill with dense, toxic black smoke.

Making a wrong turn, and then correcting himself, he continued on. Finally, he found the side door and slipped out. It had seemed like an eternity, but he’d been in the house less than five minutes.

The night air was actually much hotter now. At least they were safe. Ben ran away from the burning mansion as quickly as he could. Within a matter of seconds, Gabrielle led Samson to the door. He was attached to a buggy. Walking around back, Ben placed Pierre in the back of the buggy and turned his head so that he could breathe better. Ben noticed that Gabrielle had a packed suitcase in the back, as well.

I need to tell you something Ben, she said as she hurried to the back of the buggy.

You can tell me later. We don’t have much time, Gabrielle. The flames are closer than you think, He explained as he hurried along with her.

You drive the buggy, She commanded. Let’s leave quickly then!

Gabrielle climbed in back with her father. Ben sat behind the reins and jiggled them once. Samson trotted forward, and Ben gave the reins another jiggle and he trotted just a little faster.

‘There you go. Just keep doing that, She directed. He’s an easy horse to control. He knows who you are, anyway."

As the buggy approached the front of the burning mansion, the severity and magnitude of the fire’s fury sank in for Gabrielle and Ben. Pierre was too delirious to be aware of anything, and maybe that was a good thing.

Jesus, Gabrielle exhaled, wanting to pray and not knowing how. Ben squeezed her hand. They both knew that they would be in trouble if they didn’t get away as fast as possible.

CHAPTER 2

Sugar Haven Road

As they turned out of the cobblestone drive that led away from the mansion, they both noticed that there were people they didn’t know, and neighbors that they did, on the road now. Many of then just had their night clothes on, and nothing else with them. Frightened, large family dogs walked with some of them, while smaller household dogs and cats were held close.

Time seemed to stop. Dozens of feet shuffled along the road, kicking up dust as they went. Small children, most of them held by an adult, cried in the darkness. Only a few stars were out, but they were impossible to see. The spreading flames provided light as dumbstruck people made their way to destinations unknown.

Gabrielle! Gabrielle! Do you need a place to go? yelled a neighbor woman, in French, I summoned a doctor just like you said. I saw the mansion starting to catch fire.I was coming over there to look for you. The doctor is at my summer place. The fire won’t reach there because it’s across the pond. He got there late and I put him up for the night. There are only a few places that the fire can’t get to, and that’s one of them. Your father needs a doctor. He might die. You need to bring him over to my place. Hurry, Gabrielle, because Pierre looks real bad.

I don’t want to be a bother, Gabrielle replied.

It’s no bother at all. You need help right now… so just take it, the woman said.

Best to do what you are told, Gabrielle, the woman’s husband acknowledged

in broken English.

Gabrielle looked about. The dirt road was becoming crowded with people who lived further northward. She then looked at Ben for reassurance, her mind whirling. She wanted to do as she was being instructed to, but didn’t know what he would think. Ben sensed her anxiety and nodded with approval. Her father did need a doctor and it was the right thing to do.

The fire raged on, but there was nothing they could do about it. Looking back over her shoulder, Gabrielle could clearly see that the Chateau Villa mansion’s roof had completely caught fire and fallen in, and now all that remained was a few pieces of furniture and the frame. The whole house would be gone in a matter of minutes. Gabrielle cringed and looked away, fighting back a complex mix of emotions too deep to describe in words. Ben placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

Gabrielle, would you please take your father to my place? the neighbor woman asked softly in French.

Well, I hate to just leave him at your place, but there’s no other place, I suppose. Can we all stay there until somewhere else is available? Gabrielle responded, in French.

Oh, absolutely! I wouldn’t have it any other way. If your father could understand what is going on right now, he would want you to get somewhere safe, The neighbor lady stated as she looked Gabrielle directly in the eyes.

She’s right, Gabrielle, Ben stated.

Lead us there, then, Gabrielle said, this time in English.

Both the neighbor lady and her husband walked ahead. Ben slowly guided the buggy past the rows of townspeople who had lost their homes. Perhaps it was the invisible blanket of shock that seemed to cover them all, but this wasn’t the scene of chaos and confusion that he had expected. People moved out of their way as they passed by. Many of them had nothing, not even buggies, mainly because they didn’t want to accept that the Yankees were invading. These were the people who had waited it out, who hadn’t taken action and gathered what they could when they had the chance. Those that refused to leave during the first exodus out of New Orleans were now leaving because they had to.

I hope Mr. Fontenot gets better, a young woman said as, hastily, she walked past the buggy, I hope you find what you want after all, Ben!

Ben spun around, taking his eyes off the road for a moment to study the woman. He had seen her before. She was the same girl that had hollered to him from a bordello window, and the same one that said she had something to tell him about Gabrielle. Gabrielle gave her a wry smile and the young, bosomy woman gave her a look of disgust.

Slowly, Ben moved on. Whatever the woman’s secret about Gabrielle was, it wouldn’t have changed his love for her. Ben and Gabrielle were meant to be together, and he sensed that they always would be.

Many people passed by the buggy. Some were in carriages and buggies, but most walked. Ben paid attention to every movement that the couple in front of him made. When they tuned left, he turned left. He was led to a dirt road that he didn’t know of. As predicted, there was a huge pond just beyond.

Gabrielle seemed to relax more now. She knew that her father would be in good hands. It was true what the neighbor lady had said; the fire would not reach there. The house was also hidden, so the Yankees had no