She’d learned that because of the wind’s direction over the lake, the farther east one journeyed along Lake Erie, the deeper the snow, and walking along the less-traveled roads took longer than she’d expected.
When she arrived at the barracks, she stopped on the other side of the road in an alley between two buildings, shaking the snow from the bottom of her skirts. Only one guard stood outside the door. The man was young, with a round stomach that pushed out the middle of his redcoat. He stood at attention, musket at his side, eyes straight ahead.
She crossed the road. “I beg your pardon. I’m Abigail Tidwell, Major Tidwell’s sister.”
The guard dipped forward his head. “Private Ferland. At yer service, miss.” Seeing him up close, she thought he couldn’t be older than eighteen. Black spaces shone where teeth were missing, and his heavy accent indicated he was from the lower class of London society.
“I hoped you might be able to help me, Private. I was called here earlier today when a man took ill, and I believe in my haste, I left behind a bottle of witch hazel. Might I fetch it?”
“Aye. O’ course.” He took a key from his belt, opened the door, and followed her inside. “It were Lieutenant Devon’s cell?”
“Yes, I believe that was his name.” Abigail attempted to act indifferent as she tried to devise a way to get the key. She could think of nothing. Perhaps tonight she’d need to convince the guard to open the door first and then distract him, or she’d get the key once they returned outside. The plan was not coming together as well as she’d like, but she’d worry about one step at a time.
The guard took a lantern from a peg inside the door and lit it, spreading a sphere of light over the wooden walls of the passageway. “Third door on yer right. Prisoners are eatin’ supper now, so not to worry about anyone bothering ya.” His voice was loud in the narrow corridor.
Even though she didn’t expect anyone to be inside the cell, she still knocked before opening the door. Private Ferland stood behind her in the doorway as she entered.
“I wonder where that witch hazel has gone to . . .” She tapped her lip and made a show of turning around, sweeping her eyes over the desk and other places a bottle might be, and then she leaned over and peered behind the trunk.
“Perhaps it rolled underneath one of the bunks,” the guard suggested, holding the lantern higher to send light behind the trunk.
“A good suggestion,” she said. “Shall we check?”
He set the lantern on the ground then crawled beneath Lieutenant Devon’s bed, poking into the corners. “Nothin’ ’ere,” he grunted.
Abigail moved quickly while he wasn’t looking and placed the pouch on Emmett’s bunk, leaning it against the wall where she hoped the shadows would conceal it from the guard’s notice. She moved to the space beneath the desk and stood up at the same moment he did, holding the bottle in her hand. “Oh, look here, I’ve found it!”
“Right ya did, miss.” He gave her a smile as if he was proud that she’d solved a complicated mystery.
Another twinge of guilt poked at her, and she felt sad for involving such a kind person in her scheme. But if all went well, there would be no reason for the private or anyone else to suspect she was responsible for Captain Prescott’s escape. The entire plan had gone much easier than she’d expected, and her shoulders relaxed. “Thank you for your help, Private Ferland,” Abigail said, moving past him into the hallway. She wanted to leave quickly before he or anyone else noticed the pouch with the note.
However, when she turned toward the exit, she nearly collided with a person who’d approached without her notice.
“Miss Tidwell.”
Abigail’s insides froze as she heard the nasally voice. How had he known she was here? A look at the smirk on his face sent cold spreading down her spine, freezing away the confidence she’d felt earlier. The truth struck her like a blow. The partially open door, the blatant conversation from outside the drawing room . . . he’d intended her to hear it all along.
“I was so disappointed you missed our tea.” Lieutenant Fox’s voice carried an undercurrent of malice that shocked her. He clasped her arm and motioned with a flick of his fingers. Two men pushed past them into the cell room.
She choked, trying to keep her voice steady. “If you’ll excuse me, Lieutenant. I was just leaving.”
His hand tightened.
One of the men emerged with the pouch and her letter. He unfolded the paper and handed it to Lieutenant Fox.
“Bring that lantern, Private,” the lieutenant said.
“Release me at once, Lieutenant Fox.” Abigail jerked, trying to pull her arm away. Her heart pounded so loudly she could hardly hear the noises around her. “I need to return to my brother.” Her voice wavered as her hopes of saving Emmett crumbled.
The smirk spread over Lieutenant Fox’s face, sending a chill across her skin as he looked up from the letter. “A fine idea. Why don’t we all pay a call on the major?”
Chapter 20
“Captain Prescott?”
Emmett looked up from his supper and swiveled around on the bench, surprised to see two guards standing behind him. After the morning’s incident with Lieutenant Devon, he’d been so deep in thought he’d not even noticed their approach. Not a good policy for a man whose life was under threat, he thought.
“You’re to accompany us, sir,” one of the guards said.
A warning signal went off in Emmett’s mind. He looked around the room, suddenly alert. This scenario felt contrived, as if Lieutenant Fox was somehow behind it. “What is this about, gentlemen? Can’t you see I’m in the middle of supper?”
“Our orders are to bring you immediately to Major Tidwell’s office, sir.” The guards didn’t act at all suspiciously—their manner was that of regular soldiers doing their duty—but that did not mean Lieutenant Fox hadn’t sent them.
Emmett rose warily and followed them from the mess hall with his nerves on alert. They crossed the prison yard and entered a building of offices. He followed them through a passageway then one of the guards opened a door and stood aside, indicating for Emmett to enter.
When he stepped through the doorway, his gaze locked with Lieutenant Fox’s. The man’s expression was even more smug than usual and held a look that Emmett could only describe as triumphant. Emmett’s skin tightened against the sense of foreboding.
He looked away, glancing at the others in the room. Beside the empty desk stood the two cronies who always lurked near the lieutenant, the young night guard from the prison barracks, two soldiers, and upon a chair in the corner . . . Abigail.
Her face was pale, her cheeks were wet with tears, and her shoulders slumped forward as she visibly shook, arms wrapped around her middle.
When his eyes met hers, he started, and his worry turned to panic. “Somebody tell me the meaning of this.” He barked out the order, even though as a prisoner, he had no right to demand information. His eyes moved over her quickly, assessing. She was terrified. Anger swelled up inside him, and it took all of his will not to rush toward her. Had she been hurt? When he found out what had happened, Lieutenant Fox would wish he’d never heard of Emmett Prescott or the United States Army.
He pulled his gaze from Abigail, knowing his reaction at seeing her must have been obvious to all in the room. “Lieutenant, I demand you tell me what is going on.” He ground out the words through clenched teeth, surprised that in his anger he’d managed to speak them without cursing or yelling.
Lieutenant Fox gave no verbal reply, but the smirk twisted his mouth, and his eyes sparkled with a glee that made Emmett’s hands tighten into fists. The other soldiers stepped forward. Apparently, Emmett hadn’t concealed his desire to strike his enemy as well as he’d thought.
Footsteps sounded in the passageway, the sound of boot heels clicking together indicated the guards outside the door snapped to attention, and a moment later, the door was thrown open.
Major Tidwell stormed through. His eyes swept the room, his exp
ression becoming more confused, but no less angry as he looked from person to person. When he saw Abigail, his eyes widened in alarm, and he strode toward her, kneeling beside her chair. He placed a hand on her arm and leaned closer, whispering something the others could not hear.
She shook her head and covered her mouth to stifle a sob.
The major’s expression darkened, and he stood, facing the others, his face like a thundercloud. “Explain this at once.”
Lieutenant Fox stepped forward. “Sir, I have uncovered a conspiracy.”
Major Tidwell’s eyes narrowed, and he leveled his gaze at the lieutenant. Emmett could see true loathing in the glance. “Lieutenant Fox, you had better provide a very convincing reason for dragging me from my supper. My sister is ill, and I do not appreciate—”
“Your sister is guilty of treason.” Lieutenant Fox’s voice hung in the silence after he’d spoken.
Emmett’s mouth went dry.
The major looked more furious than Emmett would have thought possible. Not only had a subordinate just interrupted him but he’d accused his sister of a crime punishable by death. He took a step toward the lieutenant and flung out his arm, pointing toward the door. “Get out.”
Lieutenant Fox’s pleased smirk did not waver. “I have proof.” He pulled a piece of paper from inside his coat and unfolded it with a dramatic flourish.
“Impossible,” Major Tidwell said. He snatched the paper from the lieutenant and glanced at it. Then he stepped around the desk and took a pair of spectacles from a drawer and put them on. As he read, the major’s face paled. His eyes moved to the top of the page and he read again then again.
Finally, he lowered the page. “Abigail, is this . . . this cannot be true.” The sound was no longer the booming voice of a man used to shouting orders, but that of a worried brother. And at that moment, nothing could have frightened Emmett more.
Abigail nodded, and another sob escaped.
No. Emmett’s stomach turned to lead. He could think of only one reason Abigail would take such a risk. What had she done?
“The note was concealed in a bag of pebbles,” Lieutenant Fox said, tossing Emmett’s pouch onto the major’s desk. It landed with a thud, and Emmett heard the familiar sound of the rocks inside shifting. The sight of his pouch—the pouch he’d given to Abigail months earlier—made the entire situation seem all the more real.
When Emmett looked back at the major, he saw the man’s eyes boring into him. His gaze was dark and the muscles in his face tight as he pulled off the spectacles. “What is the nature of your relationship with my sister, Captain?” Major Tidwell snapped each word precisely, as if he were fighting to keep himself under control.
“She is my friend, sir.”
Lieutenant Fox snorted, and his companions snickered.
“That is enough.” Major Tidwell’s voice was a whip, silencing the room immediately. He held Emmett’s gaze. “How do you know Abigail, Captain Prescott? And I warn you, do not lie to me, sir.”
Emmett could see barely restrained fury in the man’s gaze. Surely all this would be sorted out once the major knew the entire story. Nothing inappropriate had happened between the two of them, and at this point, he wouldn’t be revealing any classified information that would give away his regiment’s position. There was nothing to be lost by telling the truth, and he hoped it would help instead of hurt Abigail’s case. He nodded and took a breath. “Two months ago, I was leading a small company on a reconnaissance mission in the area around Fort Malden, when we were ambushed. I was gravely injured with an arrow in my side and, when Miss Tidwell came upon me, nearly dead. She tended my wounds and those of another in the company, a young militiaman of only seventeen. She saved both our lives, sir.”
Major Tidwell’s chin dipped in a small nod, but his expression did not soften. “And why would she attempt to help you escape from Byron? Why would she assume you were in danger?”
Emmett felt sick as his fears were confirmed. The letter had been intended for him. “I do not know, sir. I can only assume the men of my company, once they realized her relation to the commander, implored her to come here on my behalf.”
Major Tidwell studied Emmett a moment longer then turned toward his sister. “Abigail, what led you to believe Captain Prescott was in danger? Did he or the American soldiers deceive you?”
She stared down at her clasped hands.
“Answer truthfully, Abigail,” Major Tidwell said. “You have no need to fear any of them here.”
“I am not afraid of the Americans.” She spoke in a soft voice, twisting her fingers. “I overheard the lieutenant today before tea.” She darted a quick glance toward Lieutenant Fox and his companions. “He spoke about how the tree and the poison had failed, but tonight, he would make certain to do it right.” She looked up at her brother, and her chin trembled. “I couldn’t let them kill him, Isaac.”
“Why would they do this?” Major Tidwell’s expression was utterly bewildered. He turned toward Emmett. “Captain, tell me why your men would assume you to be in danger when you’d given your parole and were being detained peacefully as an officer.”
And now for the moment of truth. Emmett could feel Lieutenant Fox’s gaze on him as he organized his thoughts, searching for the words to convince an enemy commander that one of his men had violated the regulations for the humane treatment of soldiers. Not to mention, the man he was accusing was a nobleman, an officer of the king’s army.
“The lieutenant and I had a . . . dispute . . . after the Battle of Frenchtown,” Emmett began. “A heated dispute that has led to enmity between us.”
“A dispute over what?” Major Tidwell said.
Emmett glanced at the lieutenant and saw his smirk was still firmly fixed to his smug mouth, but the skin around his eyes was tight. He was worried. Perhaps he had assumed the major simply wouldn’t bother to ask the American for his side of the story. “I found evidence that the lieutenant had conspired with Indians to attack those injured men left behind after the battle.”
“Yes. I heard about this. A tragedy indeed. But the army had left Frenchtown long before the Indians attacked. It is a heavy accusation you make against one of my officers, sir.”
“It is. And I would not have made it if I had not seen with my own eyes.” He drew in a breath. “In Fort Detroit, I witnessed Lieutenant Fox giving money to an Indian brave in exchange for proof that the deed had been done.”
“What sort of proof?” Major Tidwell asked.
Emmett paused and glanced at Abigail. He didn’t want to discuss this in front of her. He’d seen her tending to the injured after the battle. The murdered men had been her patients.
“What proof, Captain?” The major’s voice was impatient.
“Scalps,” Emmett finally said. “The Indian brave delivered a bag of scalps.”
Abigail did not react with surprise. She closed her eyes, breathing out a sad sigh. Emmett realized she must have already known.
“Is this true, Lieutenant?” Major Tidwell asked.
Lieutenant Fox shrugged. “The Indians had their chance for revenge, the enemy’s morale is lowered, Fort Detroit and all of Upper Canada are safe. The deuced Americans are too frightened to attempt another attack.” He flicked away an invisible bit of lint from his sleeve. “A win for all involved. Well, except for the Americans. I deserve a commendation, not censure from a prisoner.”
Major Tidwell looked at Lieutenant Fox for a long moment. He sat heavily onto his chair, rubbed a palm over his cheek, then drew it across his mouth. He stared at the letter then his gaze moved to Abigail, Emmett, Lieutenant Fox, and back to his sister. Someone’s feet shuffled, a throat cleared, but the major remained quiet.
The silence in the room sounded loud to Emmett’s ears. He thought through the implications of what had happened. There was no doubt in his mind that Lieutenant Fox had made certain Abigail would overhear the conversation. He’d known, given only a few hours, that she’d act rashly, and he must have been wa
tching, just waiting, to amass the evidence to implicate her.
But causing an innocent young woman to commit treason. A crime for which there was but one punishment, and for the satisfaction of revenge; such an action was more deplorable than he’d ever have imagined the lieutenant capable of.
Finally, the major rubbed his eyes. “Abigail, why didn’t you tell me any of this?”
She looked surprised, as if the idea of enlisting her brother’s help hadn’t crossed her mind.
“I . . . I don’t know.”
“Did you think I would allow an innocent man’s life to be endangered when he is under my protection?”
She didn’t answer, but another tear slipped from her eye.
“Abby,” the major’s voice sounded choked as his control slipped for the first time. “Do you know what you’ve done?”
“I’m so sorry, Isaac,” she whispered.
Emmett’s heart pounded. Major Tidwell couldn’t allow his own sister to be charged for a crime she’d committed under deception.
“She’ll hang, obviously.” Lieutenant Fox’s sneer could be heard in his voice. “We’ve evidence and two witnesses. Men have gone to the gallows with much less.”
Major Tidwell rose slowly and planted his hands on his desk. “Lieutenant Fox, in your thirst for revenge, you violated the Code of Conduct by threatening the life of a prisoner who’d given his surrender. You tricked a young woman into committing an act of treason, and I imagine if I were to ask your companions, they’d provide me with additional information about your dealings with the injured prisoners at Frenchtown.”
He leaned forward. “When a military career is at stake and a court-martial is on the horizon, men will give up a great deal of information.” He looked between the two men flanking the lieutenant. “Private Matthews, Corporal Henry, I assure you, you’ve much more to fear from me than the lieutenant.”
Both men’s faces paled, but Lieutenant Fox’s face was so white Emmett wondered if he might swoon. His smirk was completely gone, and instead of a smug aristocrat, he looked like a frightened adolescent.
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