Field of Redemption

by Lori Bates Wright

  “We’ll look forward to it.” Ian accepted the mayor’s hand and prepared to take his leave.

  General Farris waved off the mayor. “Dobbs, see the lieutenant out. I have one more thing I need to discuss with Saberton. In private.”

  Ian tilted his head, stretching the tight muscles along his neck, silently summoning patience.

  As soon as Dobbs and Fitz were out of the room, Farris shifted his weight back in his chair. “Please sit. I saw you through the window when you arrived. Was that Abigail McFadden you were with?” Farris gazed out the window as if looking for her still.

  “Miss McFadden kindly showed us the way.” Ian preferred to stand.

  “How accommodating of her.” The general mindlessly tapped on the table with a finger. “Did she say anything that I should know about?”

  “Not that I recall.”

  “How well do you know Abby?” Hearing him say her name with such familiarity grated Ian’s nerves.

  “We’ve just met.”

  “A beauty, is she not?” The general took on the slow grin of a fat cat. “I have information about her that might interest you.”

  Ian didn’t bother to respond. The general was either drunk or completely addlebrained.

  “If you’ll notice, she doesn’t speak like a Southerner. Does not hold the same respectful manners as our good Southern ladies.”

  In other words, she’d probably spurned his advances and told him what to do with his own bad manners.

  “I’ve had her mail intercepted. She received a letter from Ohio not long ago.” General Farris sucked his teeth clean with a disgusting slurp. “The sender wrote that she missed Abby terribly. Spoke of praying for her most honorable relative, who carried the burden of directing the tides of the war. What does that tell you, Colonel?”

  “That you broke the law to intrude on a private exchange.” The very last ounce of Ian’s patience had just run out. “Now if you’ll excuse me, sir—.”

  The general slapped the table causing the sugar bowl to turn over. “She’s a Yankee through and through. Probably the illegitimate daughter of Lincoln himself. Here to report every move we make and lead the blue devils right to our doorstep.”

  “You got all that from a woman’s letter asking for prayer?” Ian’s voice was raised before he could stop himself. “Miss McFadden’s personal business is none of my concern. Keep in mind, it’s against protocol to falsely accuse without sufficient evidence. Especially if you damage a lady’s reputation in the process.”

  “Unless that woman is a Yankee spy.” The general persisted. “In a military court of law, whose word do you suppose they would believe? Mine or that of a common nurse?”

  Ian settled his hat on his head. “General Farris, if there is nothing else, sir, I’ll see to my troops.”

  “Think, Saberton!” Farris rose to unsteady feet. “If our secession prevails, you could retire with honors. All the more so if you were to help expose an enemy agent.” Coming around the table, he stood between Ian and the door. “If you were to intercept her communiqué, get her to talk. Thousands of good Southern lives could be spared. All because you, Ian Saberton, chose to look past a pretty face to expose the ugly, black heart of an underhanded Yankee.”

  Farris was full of hot air.

  Abby was a bit impulsive. She’d proven that well enough. But she was not underhanded nor malicious. In seminary, Ian had spent countless hours studying true black-hearted souls and Abby was nowhere near the same ilk.

  He couldn’t help but wonder what she’d done to earn Farris’ heedless contempt. She must’ve dumped the whole water trough over his head.

  Ian stifled a grin.

  All considering, he wasn’t the best one to be giving advice about Abby McFadden. “I’ll be fully occupied for the next several weeks. The Federals are on our heels. There’s no time for delay.”

  “She’s sweet on you.” The general again stepped in front of Ian as he made his way to the door. “Use it to your advantage. Catch her in the act. I can make it worth your while.”

  Ian turned on the general, whose eyes grew wide. “Permission to speak candidly, sir.”

  “Granted.” Farris tottered backward.

  Ian lowered his voice in order to remain calm. “Let it be noted that I will not be a part of any scheme to entrap an innocent civilian. Having just met Miss McFadden, I have no knowledge of any nefarious actions on her part, nor do I intend to know her long enough to ever make such a bold accusation. Are we clear, sir?”

  Not waiting for an answer, he stepped around the general. Hopefully, the matter would end there.

  Opening the heavy wood door, Ian heard Farris call from behind.

  “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from the McFadden woman.”

  That sounded suspiciously like a threat. Abby’s warning to watch his back made much more sense now.

  Readjusting his hat, Ian moved on without looking back.

  “There is no charm equal to the tenderness of heart.”

  ~ Jane Austen

  Four

  “Abby has plenty of worthwhile qualities that would make for a fine wife.” Elizabeth Lambert leaned over a colorful quilt, stretched on a wooden frame in front of her. “Granted, she can’t cook to save her life, but with a touch more practice, she’d do just fine.”

  Wiping her hands on a towel, Abby came farther down the stairwell.

  Six ladies in all were seated in the downstairs receiving room of the hospital knitting socks, gloves, and sewing coverlets for the wounded. They met every day at Harbor House to cook and provide comfort for well soldiers. But Friday mornings were set aside to visit the wounded, contribute to the war effort, and indulge in the latest gossip.

  “I’m perfectly happy in my spinsterhood, thank you.” Abby took an empty chair next to Elizabeth. It felt good to be off her feet. She’d been tending the new arrivals since before dawn, and this was the first opportunity she’d had to sit.

  “Oh, you don’t know what you’re saying.” Cora Dobbs dismissed Abby’s statement, never looking up from the embroidery hoop in her lap. “And who cares if she can’t cook, Elizabeth. We have people who can do that for her.”

  Elizabeth’s fingers deftly wove her needle in and out of the red material, making a delicate scroll design. “Some of us prefer to cook and clean for ourselves.”

  “Posh.” Cora Dobbs smoothed a hand over her perfectly stitched flowering vine applique.

  “Ow!” Penny Jo pricked herself with an embroidery needle. Lifting the offended finger to her lips, she threw her sampler aside. “Why do I have to learn to sew? I’m never getting married. I’m going to live on a farm with lots of animals and they don’t care if I can make a straight row.”

  “Horses and dogs still need blankets, too, you know.” Eliza Jane, at barely twenty, still bickered shamelessly with her younger sister.

  “Well, if you’re not going to pay attention to your sampler, I suggest you go on home and work on your spelling lessons.” Elizabeth pointed at her daughter’s discarded needlework. “And take that with you.”

  “I’ll come cook for you, Abby. And, Mama, you can do your sewing. What else is there to running a household?” Eliza Jane shrugged. “As for finding a man, that you’ll have to do on your own.”

  If life were only that simple.

  Eliza Jane was younger than Abby by only four years, but sometimes the girl made her feel ancient. She’d married her husband, Will, at seventeen, just before he was called up to serve in Virginia. They’d been sweethearts since they were old enough to care about such things.

  With Will off to war, Eliza Jane still lived at home with her mother. She had no experience running a household of her own, but her dearest friend in all the world certainly felt free to offer advice anyway.

  “I’ve done just fine without one.” Abby took a deep breath. Though they meant well, she was tired of hearing about how badly she needed a man.

  Abby’s father had doted on
her mother. They had adored one another. Fair or unfair, Abby refused to settle for anything less. If that meant she was destined to do without a man of her own, so be it.

  “Well, if you’re ever going to win the heart of our new colonel, Abby, you’re going to have to try harder.” Cora wasn’t going to let it be. “Elizabeth, make her understand a woman’s duty.”

  In the two years since Abby had arrived in Georgia, she’d unexpectedly found a home here. These people had taken her in like she was one of their own.

  She had no formal medical training, but her father had attended Medical College of Ohio before she was born. Before he and her mother traveled west to set up a mission for the Cayuse. Abby’s earliest memories were accompanying him as he tended to the medical needs of the Indians.

  Those had been solitary days, but so contented.

  “I didn’t get a chance to talk to him, but I hear he’s nice.” Eliza Jane was saying. “Did you talk to him, Abby? After you half drowned him, I mean.”

  “Who?” Abby had not been following the conversation.

  “Oh, for pity sake.” Cora cut her thread with an irritated snip. “You see what I mean, Elizabeth? Someone needs to explain to Abby the urgency of our endeavor.”

  On a heavy sigh, Abby laid her head back against the carved wood of the crimson parlor chair. The last thing she was looking for was a husband. Especially not a Confederate colonel. She was on her own mission of sorts, and it did not involve tying herself down to any man.

  “So, what’s he like?” Eliza Jane asked again.

  “He was tall. We all saw that much.” Elizabeth offered.

  “And fairly handsome, didn’t you think, Abby?” Cora rethreaded her needle.

  “No, not especially.” Abby answered honestly and immediately regretted it when all hands stilled. Eyeing the women one at a time, she knew she had just dashed their hopes for ousting General Farris. “But … I couldn’t tell with all the road dust covering him. Who knows what he looks like under all that?”

  The older women shook their heads, clearly put out that she wasn’t even trying. It had been two days ago. Surely, honesty counted for something.

  “What I saw was pretty nice to look at.” Eliza Jane reiterated.

  “You all leave Abby be. If she’s not interested, she’s not interested.” How was it Elizabeth Lambert’s innocent shrug was more shaming than an earful of Cora’s ranting?

  Elizabeth was an expert at mothering.

  Abby had learned much by watching her handle her own daughters. She was fair but firm. Fiercely protective, but gave them plenty of room to discover life on their own. Eliza Jane and Penelope Jo were confident, beautiful young women because of it.

  Eliza Jane with her lovely auburn hair and her penchant for cooking. No one made pastries and pies as delicious as hers. And Penny Jo with her love for animals and riotous headful of blonde curls.

  “Don’t act like you didn’t notice him, Abby McFadden.” Cora came over and took the seat next to Abby, sweeping her wide skirts around her. “Now, you’ll need to know how to embroider, so pay attention. You may know how to tie off a wound, but needlepoint is done with skill and finesse. Every Southern wife knows when to take up her needlework.”

  Eliza Jane bit her thread to sever it, chuckling under her breath.

  After a few minutes of Cora’s instruction, Abby vowed never to pick up a sewing needle again. Having to back out to start over more times than not, it hadn’t taken long to admit she wasn’t cut out to be a Southern wife.

  “Abby, are you feeling well, dear?”

  Catching Elizabeth’s concerned expression, Abby laid down the quilting hoop Cora had placed in her lap. “I suppose. It’s been a tiring day.”

  “Pick it back up and pay attention to your stitching.” Cora wound her thread three times around the needle and stuck it into the center of a flower-shaped design. “There. Now, you do it.”

  Abby didn’t want to do it. But humoring Cora Dobbs was easier by far than bucking her.

  “Finish off that row, then I’ll come back to see how you’ve done.” Cora returned to her own seat and took up her quilt square once again. “You all will never guess what I heard. Those brazen Yankees not only dared to cross our borders, but now they’ve taken Atlanta!”

  The ladies twittered all at once like a nestful of sparrows.

  “Walter says General Braggs has done everything in his power to stop them but their Commander What’s-His-Name managed to slip past our guard, and Atlanta is all but under siege.”

  Abby’s pulse quickened and her breath caught in her throat.

  Memories of the battle lines sickened her stomach. These dear women had no idea what they were up against.

  The front door to the hospital opened and in walked Mayor Dobbs with another army officer.

  “Why, look-y here. Walter has brought our very own Colonel Saberton for a tour of the hospital.” Cora announced as if she hadn’t planned every minute of it.

  Abby glanced over, then quickly looked again.

  The man taking up most of the doorway couldn’t possibly be the same man who’d ridden into town last Wednesday. Clean shaven, except an oddly-appealing narrow strip of beard going from just under his bottom lip down his chin. A closely trimmed moustache further framed his well-shaped mouth. Dark brown hair gleamed in the sunlight, falling to just below his collar.

  Abby sat forward in her chair, staring openly. The man’s bone structure belonged in an art gallery. On a statue somewhere.

  “Afternoon, ladies.” Even his Southern drawl seemed more pronounced.

  “Good afternoon, Colonel.” Women’s voices sounded in unison as they cut their eyes toward her.

  The only thing these Macon women enjoyed more than sewing together was matchmaking. Call it what you will … war, strategizing, duty … what they had in mind would put Cupid to shame.

  He strolled into the room to stand beside her chair.

  “Colonel Saberton, we were just talking about you.” Cora smiled. “Weren’t we, Abby?”

  “What? No.” Abby tried to argue but it was useless.

  “Good things, I hope.”

  At least he was paying attention, Abby noticed. Better than when she’d left him.

  “All good, of course.” Elizabeth smiled and snipped her thread with a dainty pair of stork scissors. “Colonel, I’d like you to meet my husband. He’s upstairs. Abby can show you the way.”

  Abby didn’t move.

  Elizabeth leaned over and gave Abby a discreet whisper. “Stand up, Abby, dear. You haven’t greeted our new colonel. You don’t want to be rude.”

  It wasn’t her intent to be rude. She just didn’t want to give the impression she was interested when clearly she was not.

  Looking up, she hoped to get a better look at him without the sunlight in her eyes.

  Colonel Saberton regarded her with a hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. One brow lifted before he unleashed a full smile, offering a hand to help her stand. “Good to see you again, Miss McFadden.”

  “Gabby-Gail. Er… Gabby—Abby.” Closing her eyes, she chided herself to get control. “Good to see you, too, Colonel.”

  Another prod from Elizabeth reminded her to stand. As soon as she did, a loud tear sounded in the room.

  Looking down, she was horrified to see that she’d embroidered the quilt piece to her best dress. The hoop dangled precariously from a telling rip in her skirt.

  While the other women snickered, Elizabeth reached over and gave the thread a snip with her tiny stork scissors.

  Abby McFadden’s pert nose lifted a notch while the other women giggled behind her. Her wobbly smile was the only indication that she was affected at all.

  He admired her resilience. Abby was oddly self-assured considering her frilly undergarments were showing.

  “Please, call me Ian.” He pulled aside his frock coat to settle a hand in his trouser pocket. “I apologize if I startled you.”

  “I was
n’t expecting you … like that.” She looked him over before seemingly remembering herself. A blush brightened her cheeks quite becomingly.

  The women were back to their needlework, but their interest in the conversation was far from removed.

  Mrs. Lambert tacked the torn place in Abby’s skirt before calling up to the top of the stairs. “Hickory, please ask Doc Lambert to join us, dear. There’s someone I’d like him to meet.”

  For just an instant Ian caught sight of a small copper-colored head peering from the top floor before disappearing to do his bidding.

  “Forgive our manners, Colonel. I believe you’ve met most of these ladies the other day. This is my daughter, Eliza Jane Stratton. Her husband and our son serve in the Georgia 15th Infantry in northern Virginia.”

  “Under General Lee?” Ian was genuinely impressed.

  Elizabeth Lambert nodded. “And Penny Jo, our youngest, is at home, hard at work on her schooling.”

  Cora opened her mouth to comment, but Mrs. Lambert cut her off with a shake of her head. “And if she’s not, I don’t want to know about it.”

  “She’s running around upstairs with that little wild child, Hickory.” Cora Dobbs answered anyway, poking her needle up from the bottom of her quilt square and pulling the thread taught with a flourish.

  Abby crossed her arms, a fond smile on her face. “Hickory’s not a wild child. He’s very polite and actually better at reading and arithmetic than most his age.”

  “Well, maybe he should see Penny Jo does her schooling then.” Cora made a face. “Instead of chasing after him and a bunch of cats and dogs all day.”

  “May I?” Ian pointed to the stethoscope around Abby’s neck. “I read about Cammann’s binaural stethoscope in a medical journal.” In Tennessee, he had studied the effective use of such an instrument in one of the many journals he’d subscribed to before the war. But had never examined one first hand.