“And mine as well.” General Hawthorne added.
“Me, too.” Cora chimed in. “The governor is a personal friend.”
Farris dabbed at the sheen on his upper lip. “I don’t care if you’re all bosom buddies with President Davis, himself. No one is taking my prisoner from here today—or any day. The warrant stands. She hangs at dawn.”
“I don’t believe I like your tone, General.” Elizabeth Lambert pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders. “Have you any idea who you’re talking to?”
“What?” Farris looked like he was about to be sick.
“This is Mrs. Cora Hawthorne Dobbs of the Columbia Hawthornes. Her great, great grandfather founded the very ground upon which you stand.” She pointed at Ian. “And this young man is Colonel Ian Saberton of the Brechenridge Sabertons. His grandfather helped write the Georgia constitution.”
Fitz began to chuckle. “Who thought it was a good idea to bring a bunch of belles to a war conference?”
“You see who got the job done, don’t you?” Eliza Jane folded her arms and lifted her nose at him.
Farris made haste in leaving the room just in time for all to hear him retching outside the door.
All ladies once again took out their scented handkerchiefs to cover their faces.
They heard Farris call for two soldiers to see him to his room. From the window, they could see two soldiers lifting the short man under his arms, half dragging the bulk of him to his quarters.
Ian calmly addressed the general’s aide. “Farris no longer has the authority to hold Miss McFadden. If you refuse to release her to me, you would be impeding my investigation. Since I know you wouldn’t want to face a court martial, I’ll ask you kindly fetch my prisoner.”
The large aide looked to General Hawthorne who gave him a nod, then to Eliza Jane who shooed him with her hands.
“Right away, Sir.”
“What would men be without women?
Scarce, sir…mighty scarce.”
~ Mark Twain
Nineteen
Abby braced herself as Farris’ hulking aide tugged at her arm, pulling her from her cell.
Her eyes burned behind their lids when sunlight hit her full in the face.
Treading across the fetid encampment, she took in the high walls. Noting the heavy cannons positioned at each corner and two soldiers, with rifles resting against their shoulders, patrolling across the top.
No other break in the fortress except a double gate which was heavily guarded and secured with a thick metal bolt. She had but two options. Figure a way to scale the high walls or trick a guard into opening the gate. Neither seemed likely, nor would they be easy.
The hemp cord securing her wrists had been wrenched too tight, chaffing her skin and numbing her fingers. Grateful for an intermittent breeze which gave moments of relief from the suffocating stench, Abby used her arm to move sweat-laden curls that stuck to her face. With her guard’s ruthless pace, she needed to focus on the uneven path to keep from falling face first into a river of muck beneath her feet.
Without a word, he motioned for her to take the wooden steps up into an outbuilding that looked like it was more recently built than the rest of the camp.
At the top step she waited for him to open the door.
She knew Farris would be furious at her. Once again, he would blame her for his own humiliation. Being bound as she was, he would have a distinct advantage. From the outside, she noticed two windows. One facing the courtyard and one facing the fortress wall. They were too high to jump from, but not high enough to reach the top of the wall.
The door to Farris’ office was pulled open from the inside and Abby’s breath left her.
Deep brown eyes of Ian Saberton, the same eyes she’d summoned in the dark over and over again through the night, looked her over from head to foot.
Ian was here. He was real, not imagined. His broad shoulders filled the doorway.
When he reached for her, tears flooded her vision as she suppressed an overwhelming urge to fling herself into the safety of his arms.
But she would not give Farris the satisfaction.
Instead, Abby straightened her back, stepped farther into the room, and prepared to face her accuser.
Suddenly, she was surrounded by Elizabeth and Eliza Jane, Cora and even Miss Mable Lea. Huddling around her, all talking at once. Confused, Abby scanned the room, but Farris was nowhere to be seen. His assistant stood arms akimbo at the door.
Was she dreaming? Abby purposely twisted her wrists to feel the sting of rough fiber against her skin. Eliza Jane was crying, holding on to Abby like she was afraid to let go. Her hands were bound in front, rendering her helpless to comfort her friend.
“Let’s get you out of here.” Ian leaned down to speak to her only. She could feel the warmth of his body next to her and, despite her bravado, she couldn’t resist leaning into him for a moment to absorb his strength. When his arm came around her shoulder, she finally allowed herself to believe he’d truly come for her.
“You’re shaking, Angel.” Ian pulled her tighter against himself. “I don’t know what he’s put you through, but Farris will never get near you again.”
Abby could do nothing but nod in answer. She dared not look up at him or risk dissolving into a million tears. The miracle she’d prayed for was standing right here, holding her close. The power of his embrace steadied her as she absorbed the strength of his promise.
Abby spotted Fitz dabbing his eyes with his sleeve.
“You are released into Colonel Saberton’s custody, Miss McFadden. An inquiry hearing must be conducted before the charges can be formally dismissed.” General Hawthorne herded the ladies toward the door. “But for now, I recommend we continue this discussion elsewhere.”
Ian turned her around and with a quick upward slice of his knife, the rope fell from her hands. “You’ll ride with me.”
Abby watched Farris’ aide warily, not understanding why he wasn’t stopping her from leaving. She sincerely hoped she hadn’t killed the general. The syringe only had 10 mg of morphine in it. But depending on how much alcohol he’d consumed, it may have been enough to create a lethal combination.
Wouldn’t she be wanted for his murder if that were the case?
Taking her by the hand, Ian led her down the steps to where the horses were tethered. As the ladies filed into Cora’s landau, Ian swung up into his saddle. Reaching down for her, Ian instructed Fitz to help boost her up behind him.
The bolt screeched loudly as it slid back from its hasp and the gates opened slowly on rusty hinges. A more beautiful sound had never been heard.
Pausing, Abby turned to have one last look at the grim faces of the prisoners. Saying a prayer for their miracle too, she slipped her hands around Ian’s waist.
Nudging his horse, Ian sent him trotting toward Macon.
With Ian’s broad back to shield her from the cold wind, Abby took a deep breath and finally relaxed. Rubbing her cheek against him, she closed her eyes as the steady gait of the horse lulled her into a much-needed sleep.
“I’ve examined the body. This soldier did not die of a gunshot wound.”
Ian watched Doc Lambert walk around the tall wooden table on the third floor of the hospital.
“What would you say killed him then?”
“Do you see this black tissue clear up to his hip?” The doctor showed an area discolored and shriveled. But on closer inspection, Ian saw the skin Doc referred to was farther along in decay. “What are you saying?”
Doc pulled the Yankee jacket open to reveal a hole in the man’s chest. “This gunshot wound would have killed him, no doubt. But this man was already dead. Gangrene. As you can see, it had already taken over his organs. I’d say he’s been dead over a week.”
“So, he didn’t die behind the warehouse three days ago.” Ian had a good suspicion how he’d gotten there. Now, it was just a matter of proving it.
“No. This man hasn’t walked anywhere on his own for
weeks. Someone would have had to place him there.” Doc pulled a stained sheet over the body.
“Did he have any identification on him?” The double-breasted frock coat with fourteen federal eagle buttons suggested he was an officer. At least a major in rank.
Doc went to a file box and lifted some papers. “I recognized him. I worked on him when he was first sent down with a load of war prisoners from Jonesborough. He was already too far gone to save, so he was taken to the infirmary at Camp Oglethorpe. We needed the beds and Farris had plenty.”
Ian took the papers which listed the man as Major Rupert Reynolds with Logan’s XV Corps.
“So how did a dying Yankee, under Farris’ guard, end up dead behind the storehouses with a bullet hole in his chest?” Ian tapped the paper on the table. “With a letter in his pocket supposedly written by Abby.”
“I personally can’t answer that. Farris hasn’t provided any such letter.” Doc shook his head and untied his apron. “I’d wager it never existed.”
As evidence against Farris mounted, suspicion against Abby eased. Still, Ian needed to get his hands on that letter. And he wanted the name of the woman who claimed she’d seen Abby with her stolen property.
Farris had taken ill this morning before he’d turned over all of the evidence. Ian would pay him another visit first thing in the morning.
“Thank you, Doctor.” Ian shook his hand. “And thank you for allowing Abby to stay with your family until this is resolved.”
“Abby’s like a daughter, Colonel.” Doc hooked a thumb in his vest pocket. “She regularly tends to my family over and above what’s required. It’s the very least we can do for her.” He stopped at the stairwell. “No matter what perverse satisfaction Farris hopes to gain by all this, I assure you Abby isn’t capable of anything he’s accused her of.”
“Yes, Sir.” Ian agreed and donned his hat. “Thank you.”
Fitz was waiting for him outside by the horses. “You got a wire from Wheeler.”
Ian took the envelope and lifted the telegraph slip. Heaving an exasperated sigh, he crumpled the paper and settled his hat on his head. “Sherman’s troops are foraging south. Looks like he intends to take this all the way to Savannah.”
“Yep. I read it.” Fitz took the reins and hoisted himself into his saddle, leading his horse into an easy walk alongside Ian’s. “Yankee raiders were seen near as fifty miles from here.”
“I’ll take a few men and scout the area between here and Milledgeville. We’ll leave at dawn. We can collect any civilians who want to seek refuge. And if we come across a raider or two, we’ll bring them in as well.”
“What about Miss Abby?” Fitz likely knew the answer to that before he asked.
Ian’s priorities had been set for him.
General Wheeler expected the assignment he’d given to Ian to come first. He was bound by orders to see as many Georgians as humanly possible spared from the same fate Atlanta now suffered.
“She stays with the Lamberts and goes about her business as usual.” Ian scanned the sky as heavy clouds rolled in from the south covering the noonday sun. “Clearing her name’s just a formality. I’ll deal with it after we send Sherman’s army back up north.”
Fitz clicked his tongue at his horse to keep him moving. “You really think Farris is just gonna lay down and give her up just like that?”
The question immediately irritated Ian. Mainly because it was a question he’d asked himself a dozen times today. Truthfully, he knew the answer was that was the real irritation.
“I’m leaving you here to keep an eye on her.” As they passed the newest camp set up for refugees near the hospital, Ian looked for Hickory or others from the shanty town.
Mrs. Oberhaus waved with her two small girls playing a game of chase around her skirts.
Abby would feel better knowing they were relocated and safe.
A memory of her gentle, even breathing as she’d fallen asleep at his back that morning made his arms ache to hold her. There was something so innocent about Abby. Not in a way that made her foolish or naïve. She definitely had no problem standing up for herself.
Abby trusted good to overcome evil simply because it was the stronger force. Through all she’d experienced, she never gave up her childlike faith.
He wouldn’t risk losing her again.
“Set a couple of guards at the Lamberts.” He called over to Fitz. “I want them posted as soon as possible.”
Thunder rolled in the distance where storm clouds grew heavy with coming rain. Ian lifted the collar around his neck.
At some point over the past couple of years, he’d lost his ability to believe good could still come in his life. Since the first battle at Shiloh, all he’d stood for had been shaken.
“I just don’t get that Blowhard.” Fitz popped open a peanut and tossed the nut into his mouth. “He’s made it his aim to see Abby pay for his sins. If that don’t sound like Lucifer hisself, I don’t know what does.”
Ian slowed his horse to a stop under a sprawling oak. Fitz’s analogy was crude and unconventional. Nonetheless, a truth there begged to be explored. Farris’ hatred toward Abby flowed deeper than mere human contempt.
Shaking his head, Ian dismissed his theoretical musings and prodded his horse forward once more. He hadn’t thought in terms of Biblical analogies since the last time he’d prepared a sermon. He was a different man now.
Despite his denial, something inside—deep inside—began to stir.
Slowing at the corner of Mulberry and First, Ian gestured toward the river. “Go on back to camp, Fitz. I’ll check on Abby and be back to attend evening drills.”
“Colonel!” The high shriek caught them both off-guard. “Colonel!” Turning in his saddle he saw Penny Jo running down the street after them. Calming his horse, he swung the animal around to meet her. As he neared, he saw the child was crying.
Ian slid to the ground and handed his reins off to Fitz. On one knee, he pulled the little girl closer. “What is it, Penny Jo?”
“T-That ol’ Farris came after her. They tried to grab Abby!” Fury ignited as Ian stood and turned his focus on the Lambert house. “Those bad men that live by Hickory barged right in the house. None of ’em even knocked.” A sob took over and Ian could see she was fast becoming inconsolable. “They tried to steal Abby.”
“Is she all right?” Ian’s voice shook with masked rage.
Penny Jo shook her head and wailed louder. “I don’t know. She’s not there.”
With an arm over her small shoulders, Ian hurried her over to Fitz’s horse.
“Fitz, take her home.” Ian lifted the child up into the saddle. “Find out all you can from the Lamberts.”
Ian walked to his horse and removed a rifle from his saddle holster, checking to make sure it was fully loaded.
“Want me to get a few men to go with you?” Fitz settled Penny Jo in front of him and offered her some peanuts.
“No. Send someone to inform General Hawthorne.” With a flip of the chamber, Ian holstered his Colt revolver. “The shanty isn’t far, and I don’t plan on this taking long.”
“She’s not at the shanty town.” Penny Jo sniffled. “I don’t imagine so anyway.”
Fitz dumped out the rest of his peanuts and handed her the empty cotton pouch to blow her nose.
Ian turned and patted her knee to help her stay focused. “Penny Jo, what makes you say they weren’t headed to the shanty? Did they say where they were taking her?”
“Abby kicked that big bully hard—right where it hurts—cuz he was putting his hands on her trying to tie her up. The other man had a knife, and I think he cut Abby cuz I saw some blood. Mama said it was just brambleberry juice, but I never saw it on the rug before.”
Ian’s pulse quickened.
“Eliza Jane threw open the door, and Abby took off running fast as she can into those woods over there.” Penny Jo suddenly waved at someone. A smile slowly spread across her tear-stained face.
Hickory ra
n hard toward them. “You found him!”
“He was just sitting there by the tree,” she answered. “Mr. Fitz is gonna give me a ride on his horse back to my house.”
“Colonel, my Abby’s gone.” Hickory was breathless and on the verge of tears. “Mo’s real mad that she got away from him. Farris says he’s gonna—”
“I’ll find her.” Ian didn’t need hear any more. He needed to find Abby and get her away from Macon. “Listen to me, Hickory, I need your help. Go tell Mama Ivy that Lieutenant Fitz will come by this evening to bring the both of you to the train depot in Gordon. Wait for me there.”
Mama Ivy could take care of her if she was hurt. Hoping Hickory was old enough to understand the urgency, Ian lowered his voice. “And tell her to bring her doctoring bag.”
The boy’s eyes widened but he held his composure. “Yes, sir.”
“Farris said they were gonna get some dogs and hunt Abby down.” Penny Jo stroked the mane of Fitz’s horse as she talked. “Mama sent me to run find you.”
Ian had no idea where Abby would go, but with Mo and Farris’ other hired hands after her, he prayed she was well enough to stay moving.
As if the heavens agreed, a crack of thunder peeled across the sky before the heavy clouds released a deluge onto the city.
“If life be a war, it seemed my destiny to conduct it single-handedly.”
~ Charlotte Brontë
Twenty
Terror swept through Abby.
Thorny brush tore through her skirts as torrents of rain stung her face, blurring her vision. Still, she dared not stop. The ferocity of Farris’ hatred snapped at her heels like a rabid dog forcing her to stay a step ahead.
Though she felt no pain to speak of, she kept a hand pressed on her abdomen. Rain-diluted blood ran through her fingers. She knew the bleeding needed to be controlled or shock was sure to set in.
Keeping to the wooded thicket, she kept her feet moving until her silk slippers skated precariously on a thick patch of leaves covering the muddied earth. Grabbing onto a low-hanging vine, she struggled to regain solid footing. Undoubtedly, she would make faster progress if she discarded the soggy shoes altogether, but slowing her pace for even a second could prove deadly.
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