Lifting her face, she tried to detect any sign of the sun through the pounding rain. Thick, heavy clouds made it impossible to tell what direction she was heading until she was forced to admit she was utterly lost.
The unrelenting surge had her completely turned around. If she could find the river, it would eventually lead her up to Atlanta. Without the sun as a guide, she couldn’t tell how long she’d been running. Barely able to keep her eyes open against the constant downpour, she had no choice but to push on.
Exhaustion weighted her legs, cut and bruised from the underbrush. Unable to see the ground in front of her, Abby tripped over a moss-covered rock and landed with a splash in the center of a rushing stream. She gasped as the cold water billowed her skirt.
Below her waistband, her skirt was slashed and a stain of blood darkened the material. Thankfully, she wasn’t bleeding enough to suspect a damaged artery. As long as she did nothing to further open the wound, she would be fine to continue on.
A blinding flash lit up the woods, followed by a deafening clap of thunder that shook the ground beneath her, matching the shaking of her limbs. Drenched tendrils streamed down her face.
Ahead, a clearing stretched out just beyond the of cover of lofty trees.
Attempting to climb the slippery bank brought a sudden sharp pain to her middle and Abby cried out in frustration. Fear of being caught offered no time to rest. As soon as her foot stepped onto level ground, Abby began to run.
Another fiery bolt streaked through the sky, illuminating an ambiguous red shape on the horizon against angry, black clouds. With the back of her hand, she pushed aside her sodden strands, blinking to better focus. A red outbuilding was nestled at the other end of the clearing.
No matter what was inside, she needed to escape the pelting rain. Abby lifted her face against the torrential barrage and made a staggering run for the shelter.
Her foot stepped onto a cushion of grass. Thunder rolled ominously from one end of the darkened sky to the other as the rain poured harder in the open. The shield of trees no longer offered protection and she quickened her pace.
As she neared, Abby realized the building was an old barn. One heavy door hung from its rusted hinge and thudded noisily against the wood. A good pull splintered the wood as it splashed in pieces into the mud at her feet.
Abby ducked inside, rubbing at the chill in her arms. Half petrified, half freezing.
Even in the dim light, she could see cobwebs glistening from the ceiling but saw nothing else rustling in the eaves. With chattering teeth, she looked back the way she came in to see if she’d been followed. The rain made it impossible to see anything past sheets of water pouring from the roof of the barn.
Plenty of hay covered the floor. Pails, stools, and a pitchfork lay where they were dropped across two stalls, where a couple of milk cows or maybe even a goat had once occupied this space.
No matter who used to live here, Abby was overjoyed to have a dry place to rest.
Taking up the pitchfork as a precaution, she sank exhausted onto the hay at an inside corner of the stall. Still working to catch her breath, she listened hard for any evidence that she might have been followed.
The pounding of her heart was all she could hear above the roar of the rain.
Twinges of pain had begun to catch in her lower belly, though the bleeding had abated. Infection was her greatest concern. The puncture would heal with time if the tissue didn’t become festered.
Grateful for a dry place to hide, Abby laid her head back against the wall until she caught sight of two glowing red eyes peering at her from the dark loft above. A shard of fright shot through her as she backed farther into the corner. Lifting the pitchfork, she was poised for battle.
The creature didn’t move.
A crash of thunder shook the walls and she smothered a scream.
A crusted horseshoe hanging on the wall caught her attention. Slowly, Abby eased over to lift the iron piece from its peg. With careful aim, she flung the horseshoe at the silent spectator.
Again, she lifted the pitchfork, imagining a bobcat ready to pounce.
A fat barn cat padded out to the end of the loft and stretched leisurely. Peering down at the silly dripping human, the feline meowed as if Abby had disturbed a perfectly lazy afternoon.
Abby leaned back against the wall, not sure whether to laugh or cry. Her nerves were stretched taut, and her hand quivered as she released a tight grip on the pitchfork.
She kept an eye on the open barn door. Hearing anything above the pouring rain was next to impossible. Inching closer, she looked out at the clearing in front of her. Sheets of rain moved across the grass as the sky grew even darker. A frigid blast of rain-soaked air drove her back to the corner of a stall.
The cold wind sliced right through her, causing uncontrollable shivers.
A lantern with tinderbox hung on a post in the middle of the barn and Abby imagined how wonderfully warm a fire would feel right now. Her hair and clothing could dry, and wild creatures would surely stay away from the flame.
The temptation was nearly overwhelming. But in the end, the risk of Farris seeing light from the high window outweighed her desire to be dry and warm.
Settling back down, she tried to listen past the rain for any unusual sounds as she wrung out her hair and the ends of her skirt. After a while, her breathing steadied, and she laid back on the on mound of hay. The pitchfork lay within reach at her feet. With a hand, she warmed the wound in her belly.
Abby listened to the steady thrumming against the wood roof. The smell of rain filled her senses and began to sooth her fears. Her eyes grew heavier with every blink.
If she could make it to Atlanta, she would find safety with the Union Army. The thought of leaving Georgia caused an ache inside her that had nothing to do with the knife wound.
Eventually, her mind wandered to visions of a tall, dark-eyed Colonel.
Elizabeth and Eliza Jane had probably alerted the entire city by now. Had Ian discovered her missing? Abby imagined Ian searching for her high and low. Distraught at the thought of losing her.
The romantic image made her smile.
It wasn’t just his broad shoulders or strong jaw that she found appealing, but the way he made her laugh when she didn’t want to. The tender way he’d stopped to help an old man pull his cart out of a rut. This was what drew her to him. Little things to most people, but most important to Abby.
Would she ever see him again?
Suddenly, her imagination took her to the middle of a field. Alone, she stood as Ian approached atop a beautiful white charger. It didn’t matter why she was alone in the field or that she sensed danger looming all around her. All she cared about was that Ian had found her, and she was no longer lost and scared.
He swung down from his white horse and walked toward her, speaking her name softy, “Abby.”
She ran to meet him and, smiling. He held out his arms again, tenderly saying her name, louder this time.
With no hesitation, she took his magnificent face in her hands, and brought his lips down to hers. Abby kissed him with everything she had been holding back. Softly at first, then pouring every ounce of her feelings for him into one lasting kiss.
“Abby.” Ian’s rich, deep voice was so near it sent shivers through her.
Barely opening her eyes, she looked up into deep sparkling orbs. Her hands still held his face and her lips still puckered.
Instead of being awestruck by their mind-boggling kiss, his eyes crinkled at the corners and he looked … amused.
Abby’s eyes flew wide open.
Letting go of his face, she sat up and grabbed the pitchfork, pointing it at the man who materialized in front of her.
She wasn’t in a fragrant field. Nor was the intruder lingering over her a fanciful figment of her imagination.
Ian’s deep laughter echoed through the barn and she slowly lowered her weapon.
He reached for her hand. “That was quite a welcome.”
“You’re here.” A ridiculous thing to say. Of course, he was here. “I mean … hooray, you’re here!”
Ian gave her that lopsided grin. “Hooray,” he mocked.
Abby was convinced he must have been an impossible child.
After hours of tracking her, Ian was glad to find her safe. More importantly, he was glad he’d gotten to her before Farris. When he came upon her in the barn and found her sleeping, he’d approached as quietly as possible, doing his best not to startle her.
Abby was mumbling in her sleep, and Ian knelt beside her to make sure she wasn’t in pain.
Her sleepy kiss caught him completely off guard.
Considering Abby rarely did anything without putting her whole heart into it, he had to admit her kiss was sweetly passionate. Innocent yet bold.
Much like Abby herself.
“How did you find me?” A charming blush stained her cheeks.
“I followed you.” He removed his black slicker, dripping wet from the ride. With nimble fingers, he unfastened the buttons going down the front of his frock coat and shrugged it from his shoulders. Placing it around her, Ian brought the lapels together and pulled her close. “Penny Jo said you were hurt.”
“Just a nick.” Abby relaxed into the warmth of his coat. “Nothing to be concerned about.”
He didn’t believe it but wasn’t going to push her. Mama Ivy could have a look once they got to Gordon.
“You took quite a spill in the stream. Don’t want you catching a chill.” He wrapped his scarf around her neck.
“Did you see that? I pray Farris isn’t as good at following as you are.”
“I only saw evidence that you’d been there.” Ian plucked straw from her hair. “I covered your tracks.”
“I’m so thankful you’re here.” Her gaze shone bright with sincerity. “I couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing you again.”
Her quiet admission touched a place inside of him he’d closed off a long time ago.
War had calloused him. Duty was best served without emotional attachment. Killing had become second nature in order to survive. Only soldiers with razor-sharp focus and an uncanny will to stay alive walked away from the battlefield to fight another day. Thinking too hard about it meant the difference in living and dying.
Or so he’d told himself.
Gazing now into the serene expression on Abby’s face, he questioned everything he’d become. Truth in her eyes drew him in, and made him want to believe in life again. Believe there might still be a plan for him after the last battle is over. Believe in healing and forgiveness.
Suddenly uncomfortable with the direction his thoughts had taken, Ian sat next to Abby and pulled her in next to him. He held her silently until her shivering subsided and he felt her heartbeat began to settle.
The storm calmed as well.
Raindrops pattered against the weathered wood and neither of them moved. Both content to enjoy the moment, not knowing if they’d ever have this chance again.
By the time darkness obscured the barn, Ian went in search of a lamp he’d seen hanging on the center post.
“What if Farris or his men are out there?” Abby stood carefully and moved to the gaping entrance of the old barn.
Ian knelt to scrape flint into a small pile of hay with his pocket knife. After sparking a flame, Ian lifted the glass chimney, lighting the well-used stub of a candle inside the lantern. “There are no windows facing the woods, and the door faces north. If Farris has anyone out in this storm tonight, they’ll most likely come from the eastern woodlands. The light won’t attract them.”
He smothered the remnant fire on the ground with a boot while shifting shadows danced on the walls in the light of the candle.
Ian removed a wool blanket from his bedroll. His horse’s winter coat hadn’t come in and he needed to be dried. “We can leave as soon as the rain clears.”
Loosening the front cinch, he ran the cloth underneath. The gray gelding lifted his ears and swung his head over to peer at Abby.
“Maybe I should go back to Macon.” Abby pulled his oversized coat closer around her shoulders and approached the horse. He noticed she kept a hand over her lower belly.
“Farris will come for you again.” Ian shook the blanket and used the other side. “I leave tomorrow on assignment, I can’t be there to watch over you. Next time, he may succeed in having you killed.”
The only way Ian could absolutely guarantee Farris wouldn’t get to her again was if she were to take up camp with him and his men where he could keep a constant eye on her. For the sake of her reputation, he wouldn’t even suggest it.
Ian rubbed down the horse’s back.
New orders had just come in. He was to track Sherman’s army and report its location. They would be pulling up camp as early as in the morning. He couldn’t risk leaving Abby alone in Macon. General Hawthorne had made it clear, his focus would be on securing Macon against enemy invasion. His troops would have their hands full.
With enemy forces bearing down on the city, Abby would easily be overlooked.
“I’ll go north up to Atlanta, but I won’t leave Hickory without saying goodbye.” Abby smoothed the horse’s black mane. “He doesn’t need another person abandoning him with no warning or explanation.”
Ian knew this was personal for her.
She was that child once, whose loved ones never came home.
“I’ve arranged for you to see Hickory and Mama Ivy at the train depot in Gordon. You can say goodbye then.” The horse stamped a hoof at the barn cat threading itself around Abby’s skirts. Ian ran the feline off to keep it from getting trampled. “I’d like Mama Ivy to have a look at your wound.”
A frown came over her brow. “Does the train from Gordon go to Atlanta?”
“Yes, unless the Yankees have ripped up the rails.” Ian answered, watching her reaction carefully. “Why are you so determined to go to Atlanta?”
“Maybe it’s time I go home. To Mansfield.” Abby continued to scratch the horse’s neck and withers. “If I can make it to Atlanta, arrangements can be made to get me the rest of the way. Where there is no Farris.”
“Is that really what you want?” Ian looked over at her.
“Not really.” She gave a small shrug. “The church is there. The one that supported my father’s mission. I could make an appeal for the children and maybe help build a home for war orphans.”
“Division of the nation has divided the churches as well. All are trying to survive on half the income they once had as a whole.” Ian hung the blanket to dry over a coarse partition in the stall. “An admirable venture, Angel, but I doubt there will be money to fund it.”
Abby didn’t answer but went to sit on a little three-legged stool next to the pole. Ian was fascinated by the fiery streaks in her hair each time she moved in the candlelight.
“I know your heart is with Hickory and his friends, but a church organization located in Ohio isn’t going to build a home for a bunch of kids down in Georgia.”
When her shimmering gaze lifted to him, Ian went to her. Kneeling, he took her hand.
“So it seems they’ve run out of options just like I have.” Her breath caught. “Do you feel how cold and wet it is out there? Hickory is feeling it, too.” Her voice had reduced to a whisper. “He has no warm home with a hearth. The best he can hope for is someplace dry to lay his head. He’ll go to sleep tonight on the bare earth with no one to place a kiss on his forehead or tell him to have pleasant dreams.” A tear rolled down the fine curve of her cheek. “I doubt Hickory even dares to dream anymore.”
Abby had a passion much like what Ian imagined her father must’ve had. She valued truth, felt it deeply, and wasn’t afraid to speak it. Like her father, she, too, would have made a fine minister.
Reaching over, he stopped her
tear with a finger. He only wished he could solve what had caused them just as easily. “Angel, do you trust me?”
“Of course.” She sniffed and gave a reluctant grin. “We’re alone in the middle of nowhere with only your horse to chaperone. I’d best be able to trust you.”
Ian flashed a wide grin and gently pulled her to her feet in front of him.
Straightening his coat over her much smaller frame, he cupped her shoulders with his hands. “Then let me send you to Brechenridge. Take Hickory with you. My family will welcome you both. General Hawthorne has already contacted the military authorities to call for Farris’ arrest. Until then, he won’t be able to get to you while I’m gone. You can take the time you need to heal. I’ll send a telegraph to Governor Brown in Milledgeville. He can issue you a full pardon.”
Ian brought her hand to his lips and left a kiss on her wrist.
“Won’t your family find it unusual that you’re sending a strange woman to live with them?”
“Strange is a bit harsh.” Ian tilted his head with a teasing grin. Sliding an arm around her waist, he brought her close. “Maybe a tad peculiar, but I wouldn’t call you strange.”
Lowering his head, he erased her pout with a kiss.
When Abby relaxed, he let the soft caress of her lips ease his worries about the days ahead. Time suspended. For a brief moment, there was no conflict, no killing, no suffering.
Just the two of them, surrounded by the heady cadence of rain.
“Search me, O God, and know my heart: try me, and know my thoughts:
And see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.”
Psalm 139:23-24
Twenty-One
Stepping back, Abby walked away from the warmth of Ian’s arms to cool in the open doorway. “The rain has let up.” A chill immediately skittered through her body.
Field of Redemption Page 17