Spiteful thinking, deserved or not, wouldn’t help the situation.
She’d need to pray about that.
As everyone stood, Lieutenant Fitz caught her eye from across the aisle and gave her a wink at having been caught with his eyes open during prayer. There, next to him, stood his broad-shouldered commander.
Ian glanced at her briefly with a lazy grin that made her heart skip a beat. She couldn’t help but smile back.
Tall and freshly groomed, he held his hat in one hand and the other hand other rested easily on the hilt of his curved sword. He resembled an illustration she’d seen in Malcolm’s literature book of a French musketeer. His mustache was closely trimmed with a thin patch down his strong chin. His longish hair curled at his collar with a fresh shine. Though worn in places, his black cavalry boots were polished to a high shine.
He looked as if he was born to lead men.
Her eyes rose to find him watching her and he held her gaze until her cheeks warmed and she looked away.
Flutters, not altogether unpleasant, took over her stomach. Only with concentrated effort could she avoid looking back again.
She should probably pray about that, too.
“Amen.” As soon as the pastor finished his prayer, a couple of boys were the first out the door and the ladies all sprang into action. The grounds were set up for a Sunday social, which meant plenty of good food and fellowship.
The women spent most of yesterday cooking. Abby had gone by to help after her morning rounds. Before long, just like every other time, she ended up at the sink washing dishes instead. Which suited her just fine. She had no patience for cooking.
Nevertheless, these were some of the best memories she’d take from her time in Macon. It had been a long while since she was part of a family. She’d missed the laughing and teasing and sharing from the heart. Her adopted home in Ohio had moments where she’d felt included, but never to the degree she’d been accepted here.
Abby hung back as the rest of the congregation passed her by.
“Was that not the best sermon you ever heard in your life?” Cora, with Mable Lea by her side, made a bee line to block her escape.
Abby turned to exit the row from the other end.
“How would she know? She was busy makin’ eyes at the Colonel.” Eliza Jane hemmed her in before she could clear the back row.
Abby had no choice but to endure the interrogation that was sure to follow.
“I saw him looking at you.” Eliza Jane had that droll look and sing-songy tone she took on when she thought she knew something no one else did.
“Who?” Abby received impatient smirks from all of them.
“Who do you think, silly?” Eliza Jane held the baby, stroking her hair with one finger. Clearly, she was not budging until she got the reaction she was looking for. “Colonel Saberton. And what’s more, I saw you smile back.”
That little tidbit got their full attention.
“Well, then, you must have eyes in the back of your head.” Abby crossed her arms and lifted a brow at her. “Besides, church is hardly the best place to pursue a man.”
“What better place could there be?” Cora waved her off with a flick of the wrist before dissolving into an artful fan flutter. “He can’t run off, so he’s yours for the taking.”
“Abigail!” Elizabeth Lambert entered the sanctuary from the back. “Abigail McFadden!”
The pastor’s mousy wife dashed in behind her wringing her hands, looking panicked.
Eliza Jane stepped aside and pointed to where Abby stood.
Traitor.
“Abby what on earth have you done?” Elizabeth brushed past Eliza Jane and took Abby by the arm.
“I –I don’t …” Abby was trying to make sense of the sudden alarm. Was someone hurt?
“The mashed potatoes! Yesterday, when I told you to salt the potatoes, what did you put in them?”
Wracking her brain to remember, Abby began to recite what she recalled. “You said grab the salt off the shelf. I took the yellow can marked salt next to the baking powder. Your recipe called for a pound so I put it in there.”
“No, no, no! Oh, merciful heavens!” Elizabeth headed for the window, looking out across the church grounds. “The recipe called for a pinch. P is not for pound, it’s for pinch.”
Cora fairly flew to Elizabeth’s side. “Has it been served?”
“That’s not the worst of it.” Elizabeth’s face turned ashen. “The recipe called for table salt. The blue can. The yellow can is Epsom salt. Abby, you put a pound of Epsom salt in the mashed potatoes.”
Eliza Jane stifled a giggle behind her lace-gloved hand. “Epsom Salt? That’s some stout potatoes. Doesn’t father use that for—?”
“Yes! Good heavens, don’t say it.” Elizabeth’s hands flew to her temples. “As soon as I had a taste, I knew there’d been a grave mistake. I took up the bowl before any more was served.”
The ladies all returned to the window.
Whether Elizabeth wanted it said or not, Epsom salt was made up of magnesium sulfate, a well-known colon stimulant. And a pound could send a whole army to the outhouses for a week.
Abby only remembered seeing salt on the can. Kitchens were not infirmaries, why would Epsom salt be kept with the food products? This is why she hated to cook.
“Did you say it’s already been served?” Cora practically screeched.
“Now, simmer down, Cora. We mustn’t get upset.” Elizabeth straightened her back. “They insisted the new colonel, General Farris, and Pastor Baxter be first in line. I’m afraid they had already gotten to the potatoes before I could.”
“What’ll we do?” The pastor’s wife continued to wring her hands.
“Where are they?” Cora scoped her prey from the window. Quickly, she turned back to the other women. “Colonel Saberton hasn’t taken a seat yet. Pastor Baxter is saying grace, and General Farris is seated at the head of the table by the rose bushes. He’s already started eating, and the prayer isn’t even over. The heathen. Eliza Jane, go tell Penny Jo to distract Farris. Do whatever it takes to get that plate away from him.” Cora gave marching orders like a three-star general. “Sister Baxter, go tell Pastor you need urgent prayer. Make him put down his plate and pray in earnest. Mable Lea, take his plate and dump it in the scrap pile while he has his eyes shut. Abby, you go distract the colonel. Shake your tailfeathers, that’ll get his attention. Whatever you do, don’t let him eat those potatoes!”
They all quickly disappeared, anxious to perform their duties.
On a heavy sigh, Abby glanced up at the hefty oak cross hanging on the back wall.
She supposed she’d need to pray about this, too.
Lord, forgive my blunder and if any of them do by chance eat any potatoes, let them eat enough to get a good, thorough cleansing. Amen.
There was just no good way to pray about such things.
“It was her chaos that made her beautiful.”
~ Atticus
Eight
“These Georgia women are loonier ’n a cock-eyed bean counter!” Fitz swiped at the gravy stain spreading down the leg of his gray trousers.
Next to him, another soldier agreed, raking collard greens from his hair.
Ian stood before his men at the head of the table, food everywhere but on their plates, trying to assess the cause of the mad commotion going on under the church’s red-striped canopies.
Initial evidence pointed to Abby McFadden who appeared to have started it all when she’d sashayed pretty-as-you-please past his table with a come hither look in her eye. Every head at his table turned when she’d reached out and caressed Ian’s cheek as she walked by.
None had been more stunned than Ian.
Just as Ian was about to call her back to find out what she was up to, a little woman with thick glasses came from behind and whacked his glass of lemonade over onto his food, sending the whole plate skidding into Fitz’s lap.
The chain reaction was fast and fierce.
/> Ian leapt to his feet. Lemonade splashed in Fritz’s eye. He flung a spoonful of greens onto the man next to him, who bobbed and hurled his chicken leg across the table knocking a coffee cup from the hand of another soldier, scalding two more down the line.
At the same time, over on the other side of the large tent, Ian caught sight of General Farris juggling his own plate and drink as he tried to fend off a bushy-tailed cat that scampered up his back.
Doc Lambert’s youngest daughter, Penny Jo, whistled and the animal leapt from atop the General’s head to settle in the girl’s arms, accepting a piece of cheese.
In a pink frock, with her bonnet pushed back behind her neck, she looked the picture of innocence. No one would believe such a mess was orchestrated by the little girl with deep dimples.
On closer inspection, however, Ian watched Elizabeth Lambert toss her daughter a satisfied wink as she handed the general a dishtowel.
Over by the food tables, Ian noticed all the ladies wore similar looks of satisfaction. One or two openly giggled before hiding behind waving fans. If he didn’t know better, he might suspect these fine ladies of executing a highly organized maneuver to completely disrupt the church social.
Ian bent to retrieve his plate from the grass, where a pup sniffed the soggy heap of food. Oddly, the dog turned up his nose and ran off, leaving the scraps untouched.
“Water! I’ve been poisoned!”
Ian spun to see General Farris red in the face, waving his empty goblet. Choking and sputtering dramatically, a large hunk of cornbread in his other hand.
“Nonsense!” Cora Dobbs approached his table with regal authority. “It’s a new flavor of mashed potatoes. It’ll probably do you some good.”
“How’d he get mashed potatoes?” Fitz wondered aloud.
“Arsenic I tell you!” Farris hurriedly drained his cup and held it out to be refilled. “The bitter taste cannot be washed from my mouth. It’s probably eating at my throat. Don’t stand there gawking, you imbecile, go for the doctor!”
His trusty aide scrambled to his feet.
“Wait.” Abby stepped to Cora’s side where the older woman immediately tried to shush her. “There’s no need to bother Doc Lambert. He has his hands full this morning. A mistake on my part—.”
Mrs. Lambert rushed over to join the damage control. “We used a different kind of salt, General. Harmless, really. I take full responsibility because it happened in my kitchen.”
“You!” Farris pushed back from the table, pointing a finger at Abby. “I should have known you were behind this. A Yankee plot to see me killed.”
Ian moved to defuse the situation. Farris threw out some serious allegations. Were he to call for Abby’s arrest, there wouldn’t be much Ian could do to help her.
“General, there’s no proof of ill intent.” Ian kept his voice calm. “We are all witnesses and the ladies have offered their most humble apologies. They’ve given a perfectly reasonable explanation for your tainted mashed potatoes.”
Farris looked like he was near to exploding.
If he were wise, he’d let the matter drop. It would do him no good to accuse the mayor’s wife, and Macon’s most affluent women, of lying to cover an enemy conspiracy. If he did choose to do something so foolish, he’d better have stronger proof than just a burning tongue.
“Abby’s not a hateful Yankee. That’s just silly.” With the baby on her shoulder, Eliza Jane moved to stand next to her friend. “She’s been in Macon just as long as you have. By now she’s as Southern as you are.”
Ian didn’t miss the pained expression on Abby’s face.
She wasn’t capable of poisoning the general, of that he was fairly certain. But in Ian’s opinion, she was still hiding something. If she didn’t appreciate being called a Rebel, why was she here? Her reasons for being so far from home were worth questioning.
“Until I have a doctor’s guarantee that I’ve not been poisoned, Miss McFadden’s actions remain suspect.” Farris snatched his hat from the table and elbowed his way down to where his horse was tied by the street.
“Oh, posh.” Cora waved off his threat as soon as he was out of earshot. “He’ll be sotted by dinnertime and won’t remember a thing.”
All the other ladies fell into a twitter of giggles.
Except Abby. The crease in her brow had her looking concerned.
Ian wanted to believe her. Still, the two highest ranking officers in attendance were the only two who’d been served the questionable potatoes. That certainly didn’t help her cause.
The tides of war had begun to turn against the South. He wasn’t prepared to dismiss any suspicious activity at this point. Even if it meant keeping a closer watch on a beautiful lady Yankee.
As if privy to his thoughts, she lifted her gaze to meet his. “Thank you.” Though her words were silent, he read them easily from her cupid bow lips.
“Tempted, Colonel?” Mrs. Lambert asked from the other side of him.
“I …” Ian had to stop to make sure he hadn’t expressed his thoughts aloud.
“Cake.” She offered a large piece of chocolate cake on a china plate with pink flowers. “Might we tempt you with a bit of dessert.”
Apparently, cake was the closest he was going to get to a full meal today, so he gladly accepted.
“Your men seem to be enjoying themselves.” She smiled.
Many weeks they’d spent Sunday mornings around a campfire sharing scripture and favorite songs until each one drifted off into silence. For most, their faith was what sustained them.
“Today’s a rare treat. The men were able to attend church and enjoy a homecooked meal, too.” Ian couldn’t remember the last time he’d had cake. This one tasted especially good. “But we still have plenty of work to do. I’ll be rounding them up soon.”
“Oh, but, Colonel, it’s so good to see them playing horseshoes and laughing without a care in the world.” Her unspoiled view of his soldiers both pleased and disturbed him.
Ian had to admit it was good to see them laughing. A beautiful day, delicious food with noisy kids running and playing, served as a good reminder of what they fought for. Hearth and home.
They’d be rejuvenated for days to come.
Unfortunately, too much of a good thing could backfire. He’d lose them to homesickness if he let them stay too long. A soldier constantly pining for home was a liability and a risk for desertion.
“Surely, you still observe the Sabbath in the army.” Mrs. Lambert tilted her head and rose a questioning brow. “It is still a commandment, you know.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Although rest on the Sabbath had become a thing of the past. That particular commandment would have to wait until the war was over. “We just observe it in shorter intervals for now.”
“Oh, my. Your smile is so like your mama’s.” Elizabeth Lambert seemed to enjoy his surprise. “But those shoulders and build is Samuel Saberton made over.”
Now Ian was genuinely baffled. “I didn’t realize you were acquainted with my family.”
Mrs. Lambert laughed at that and he saw a glimpse of the girl she’d once been. “Everyone from the coastal plains of Georgia is acquainted with the Sabertons. My brother attended West Point with your father, and I must admit, I had quite a fondness for him when we’d go up to visit. He was witty and engaging and more handsome than a body had a right to be.” She paused to look up at the feathered clouds drifting above. “Ahh, those were such innocent days.”
Ian didn’t respond, but let her savor her memories.
“You know, word had it, Samuel hailed from British royalty. I can certainly believe it.” As if embarrassed at having spoken so candidly, Mrs. Lambert folded her arms and gave a small shrug. “But, alas, Dottie Ramsey came along, and no one else could ever light up those dark, shining eyes of his like she did. I was terribly sad to hear he didn’t make it back from the Mexican war.”
“Thank you. My mother still lives on our land upriver from Savannah. My brothers and I were fairly
young when he died.” Ian settled his hat on his head and looked out past the city to where the Georgia pines marched over rolling hillsides and onward to Brechenridge. An unexpected wave of homesickness washed over his own tattered nerves.
“Colonel, did you know that traitor, William Sherman, was also in your father’s West Point class?” Mrs. Lambert added with a stern dip of her head. “He was once stationed right here in Macon.”
His mother had never mentioned Sherman, but then, Sherman had never been worth discussing.
“And I’ll tell you another thing, your father wasn’t the only one who found Dottie Ramsey utterly fascinating.”
Now, that he could believe. She still had more than her share of admirers.
“Do you hear from your mother? How is she doing?” Mrs. Lambert asked.
“Doing well. I received a letter about five months ago. Just after Christmas. We’ve been mobile since then so I’m sure she hasn’t known where to send a letter.”
“You must write her right away and let her know you are right here in Macon.” Mrs. Lambert retied the bonnet strings under her chin as she watched Abby clearing the tables. “And be sure to tell her you plan to stay awhile.” She patted his arm with a motherly smile and left him to join her daughters under a tall shade tree.
Ian had actually written his mother last week to warn her to prepare the stables, for possible enemy raiders. Over a hundred of her select mares and five champion stallions would need to be relocated to keep the bluecoats from seizing them.
Last he’d heard, his sister-in-law, Tori, and her little girl were getting ready to take a trip to visit Nicholas in Charleston out at Fort Sumter.
If the Union pressed farther south into Georgia, the next logical move would be to cross the border into South Carolina. Charleston would be even more vulnerable than Atlanta had been.
Ian hadn’t known about his father’s association with Sherman, nor had he known that Sherman was so familiar with this part of the South. This would require more diligence in making out his report of recommendations for removing Confederate gold and assets to a safer location.
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