Major Tidwell’s face was hard. “Guards, remove these men to separate cells and allow no communication between them.”
Lieutenant Fox began to argue, but Major Tidwell gave the guards permission to use force if necessary, and he quieted down straightaway, allowing himself to be led from the room.
Emmett thought he should have felt some sort of vindication seeing his enemy receive the consequence he deserved, but no bit of triumph could erase the dreaded uncertainty of Abigail’s fate. Even a major in His Majesty’s Royal Army had no power in this case. The air in the room felt thick and hot.
“And you, Private?” Major Tidwell said, looking to the young private with the round belly.
“Ferland, sir. I was the guard at the prisoner barracks when . . .” He winced, and his cheeks reddened as he glanced at Abigail.
Major Tidwell nodded, looking tired. “Yes. Return to your duty.”
The private saluted and hurried from the room, leaving only Abigail, Emmett, and the two guards he had arrived with.
Major Tidwell rubbed his eyes, and his shoulders drooped in exhaustion, as if maintaining a strong appearance had completely worn him out. Emmett thought in only an hour the man had aged quite a lot. “Abby-snail.” He held out his arms, and his sister moved into his embrace.
“I’m so sorry, Isaac,” she said.
“You will be given a trial, but the lieutenant was correct. With witnesses and evidence . . .” His voice choked.
Emmett would have given anything in that moment to be able to hold her and reassure her, and he felt deeply grateful that her brother treated her with care instead of anger.
“Captain Prescott is not to blame,” she said. “He had no knowledge of . . . any of this. And also Private Ferland. He was not negligent in his duty. I deceived him into allowing me into the barracks.”
The major glanced at Emmett, his face pained as he allowed his sister to weep. Then, kissing her cheek, he sent her away with one of the guards, promising to visit her soon.
Abigail glanced once at Emmett as she left the room, her expression filled with apology, and the heaviness that had pressed down on him since that morning when Lieutenant Devon was poisoned became so weighty that he hurt. His heart felt like it was being crushed, and hovering over all of it was a sense of desperation to fix this. Abigail could not hang—just thinking the words made his throat constrict, and panic set his nerves humming.
“Sit, Captain Prescott.” Major Tidwell jerked up his chin, pointing to a chair on the far side of the room.
Emmett sat.
Major Tidwell rested his elbows on his desk and his chin on his knuckles. He stared at the note. Moments passed. The major continued to stare, Emmett continued to fret, and the guard stood quietly beside the door as if he could not feel the two men’s despair.
The major reached for the pouch and tipped it, spilling out some of the rocks. Emmett recognized his own, and the fluorite from Abigail’s collection. The ache inside him grew.
Major Tidwell’s jaw tightened. He returned the rocks to the pouch and rose, pulling the cord tight and setting it back onto his desk. His face took on a determined look as he crossed the room toward Emmett.
Before Emmett had a chance to react, the major’s fist connected with his jaw and his head hit the wall, sending a burst of pain that made the edges of his sight flash. Emmett blinked as his sluggish thoughts caught up with what had happened.
The major hauled him up by his coat lapels and, just for an instant, his expression changed. His eyes were wide and pleading. “Your friends are north of town,” he whispered. “Please, save her.”
Emmett felt something cold and heavy slide into his shirt pocket as the major shoved him back into his chair.
Major Tidwell whirled toward the guard. “Return him to his cell,” he ordered and stormed from the room.
Chapter 21
Abigail sat on the small cot in her cell. Hours had passed, and she assumed it was past midnight, but she was unable to sleep. Pulling the scratchy blanket tight around her shoulders, she leaned back against the wall and wept as she’d done since the evening before in Isaac’s office. She’d never have believed herself capable of so many tears.
Accompanied by a guard, Isaac had come late last night and explained what would take place the following day. Since he considered himself incapable of impartiality, he’d assigned three lieutenants to decide Abigail’s case.
Isaac had full trust in the men, he’d told her. He was convinced they’d make the correct decision, but he also warned they could not overlook the law. With the witnesses and the letter as evidence, he feared they would find her guilty of treachery against the Crown.
“If there is anything else, Abby,” he’d said. “If you were tricked or threatened or somehow did not understand what you were doing, perhaps—”
She shook her head. “I knew full well the risk.”
Isaac sighed. “You are too intelligent not to.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and swallowed, fighting away tears.
Seeing his struggle made Abigail’s eyes burn, but she forced herself to be calm for his sake. She glanced at the guard, wishing she and Isaac had a moment of privacy, but under the circumstance it was impossible. Trying to ignore the man, she took her brother’s hand. “If I’d have known I’d hurt you so badly, I’d never . . .” Her voice trailed off. She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence, because it wasn’t true. She’d have done anything necessary to save her friend’s life, even at risk to her own. And she knew that Isaac knew it too.
“That reminds me.” He pulled out the rock pouch from his pocket. “I thought you might want these.”
“Thank you.” The leather of the pouch smelled and felt familiar, the weight sturdy and comforting in her hands.
“If you trust Captain Prescott with your rocks, he must be worth trusting.” Isaac gave a sad smile.
She could read the unsaid words in his expression. But is this person really worth dying for?
“I love you, Isaac.”
“I love you too, Abby-snail.”
He embraced her and departed, taking the guard and the lantern with him and leaving her in darkness.
The moment the door closed behind him, she fell to pieces.
And even now, hours later, she still could not stop her tears. Abigail pulled up her feet onto the bunk, wrapping the blanket tighter, and rested her cheek on her knees. What would her father say? Thinking of his kind eyes, knowing she’d never assist him with a surgery or hear his voice again, started a fresh bout of weeping.
Would Father be ashamed of her? News would reach Amherstburg in just a few weeks. Would the residents seek out a different doctor instead of trusting a man whose daughter was a turncoat?
And Isaac. She’d never seen such disappointment and sorrow. And no matter what she did, there was no way to make it right.
She sniffed and wiped her cheeks with the corner of the blanket. She reached along the straw mattress until she found the pouch and pulled it close, feeling the different shapes through the leather.
Holding the pouch, she could not help but think of Emmett. And the thoughts brought a heap of regret. She’d never have a chance to explain herself, to apologize and to reassure him that she didn’t consider any of this to be his fault. She wondered what would happen to Jasper, Murphy, Luke, and Barney. Would they leave Ontario now that Emmett was safe? She had full confidence that Isaac would prevent any further threat from Lieutenant Fox. Would Emmett eventually be part of a prisoner exchange and return to Baltimore? Would he continue on with his life and forget he ever met a woman named Abigail Tidwell?
At the bugle call, she jerked awake, realizing she must have dozed. Soft light glowed through the greased paper in the high window. Outside she could hear the noises of a waking military camp: voices, doors opening and closing. She imagined Isaac was on inspection, supervising the drills, or meeting with the officers as he did in the early morning hours.
Would he come this mor
ning? Or would she not see him until her hearing? With no hearth and only one blanket, the morning was cold. She pulled the blanket more tightly around her shoulders and closed her eyes, hoping for a bit more sleep.
As her mind wandered, something changed in the noises outside, though she could not quite tell what it was. The sounds seemed less orderly. Calls had become yells, and the voices were louder. She listened closer and heard shouting. Fire!
Abigail sat upright. Fire. Where was the fire? She wondered if anyone had been hurt. Would Dr. Baldwin need help treating burns? She listened closer but couldn’t discern any details from the muffled voices that reached her.
A key grated in the lock and turned with a click. The door swung inward. Emmett stepped inside. “Abigail.” He closed the door and crossed the room.
She stared. “Emmett?”
He took her hand, bringing her to her feet. His eyes held hers as he moved a strand of hair from her forehead. “You’ve been weeping.” His fingertips brushed down her cheek. “Everything is all right now.”
She glanced at the door, terrified he’d be discovered. “What are you doing here?”
“No time. We must go, now.” He flung her cloak around her shoulders. “Your boots. Quickly.”
Abigail bent down and fastened her laces with shaking fingers.
Emmett folded the blanket and tucked it under his arm. He put the rock pouch into his pocket then stood to the side of the door and peeked into the hallway.
“Emmett, we can’t.” Her heart pounded. If they were caught, there would be no trial for Emmett. He’d be shot on sight, and she . . . she’d be back in the cell before she could blink, awaiting a trial from a much less sympathetic group of lieutenants. She hesitated.
“Luke is waiting.” Emmett winked and flashed a smile that did nothing to slow her heart’s frantic pace. He slipped through the door, and Abigail hesitated then followed.
They hurried through the passageway and down a flight of stairs then out into the morning cold. The sounds of shouts and running feet were much louder outside. Smoke hung in the air.
Abigail saw no guard. She followed Emmett around the corner of the building. Luke met them in the alleyway, a bound and gagged soldier unconscious at his feet.
She gasped and crouched down, but Emmett pulled on her arm, drawing her back into the shadows. “Just a small bump on the head, Doctor,” he whispered.
“Hello, Abigail,” Luke said. She assumed the unconscious man at his feet was the reason the young man’s chest puffed out as he smiled.
She smiled back but couldn’t help glancing down at the guard.
Emmett crept to the other end of the alley, keeping in the shadows, and beckoned them toward him. “All clear.”
They hurried across a road and ducked into another alley. “We must hurry before the guard is discovered,” Emmett muttered. “But not so quickly as to draw notice.”
They needn’t have worried. Chaos was everywhere. Men running with buckets, horses galloping through the street, women hurrying past with worried faces and pulling children behind. Shouts, cries, hoof beats, all of it beneath billows of gray smoke.
Not a glance was spared for the three as they stepped quickly along the main road and up the first lane they came to. When they reached the north end of town, Emmett grabbed on to Abigail’s hand. “Now we run.”
They darted across the open farmland toward the forest. Abigail’s muscles were tight, and she ducked her head, thinking any moment they’d hear a call to halt or, worse, a gunshot. But the town was too occupied with the fire to notice the fugitives. The snow was wet and melting, leaving her boots and the bottom of her skirts wet. When they entered the forest, they moved quickly through the areas where trees had been cut, but before long, they were forced to slow, scale over logs, duck beneath limbs, and move around underbrush.
Emmett didn’t release her hand, pulling her to move quicker in spite of the more difficult terrain. Luke followed behind.
After a quarter of an hour, Emmett stopped. All three of them were breathing heavily, their cold breath coming out in white puffs under the shadow of the trees. He turned as if he’d say something but stopped when Jasper stepped from the trees.
The Kentuckian’s lips pulled to the side in what Abigail understood to be his replication of a smile.
“Burning down the town?” Emmett said. “Don’t you think that was rather dramatic?”
Jasper shrugged. “You said a distraction.” He turned. “And it was the army’s livery, not the whole town.” He jerked his head to the side, motioning for them to follow. “Won’t be long before they notice you’re gone.”
He led them to the east, following a winding depression Abigail thought must be a creek bed when the ground wasn’t frozen. Walking along the smooth rocks was difficult, and she stumbled often, but Emmett had her hand and didn’t allow her to fall.
“Maybe we should find a different path,” she huffed as her foot slid off another rock.
“The rocks conceal our footprints,” Emmett said, gesturing behind them.
Abigail glanced back at their path and saw the truth in his words. Where the pristine snow around them would have been blemished by their passage, their footprints were nearly indiscernible in the rocks and the lumpy snow of the creek bed.
When she turned back, she started. A dark bruise showed on Emmett’s jaw. She hadn’t seen him in the sunlight until now. “Emmett, your face.” She moved to take a closer look, touching the tips of her fingers to the purple mark. “This is new.”
“Last night.” He nodded, taking her hand again and continuing. “Your brother gave me that.”
She pulled back. “Isaac hit you?”
He turned and faced her directly. “Had to. With all the guards around, he needed a reason to get close enough to give me this.” He held up an iron key.
She stared at it then at him. “Isaac helped you? Us? He helped us to escape?” Her throat squeezed as she thought of her brother and what he’d risked.
“Not a bad fellow, Major Tidwell.” Emmett gave her the key. “In different circumstances, the two of us might have been friends.”
Abigail looked down at the key in her hand. She closed her fist around it, and her eyes grew misty as tenderness filled her chest. Of course Isaac would help her.
“Knows how to land a decent facer,” Emmett muttered as he tugged her forward.
“We’re nearly there, Abigail,” Luke said.
A few moments later, they stopped at a steep hill. Luke walked directly up to a large snow-covered clump of bushes and reached behind them. Abigail was surprised to hear the hollow sound of wood when he knocked.
The bushes swung outward.
“A springhouse,” she said. A perfect hiding place. Nobody used the structures during the winter, and the door to this one was so well concealed, she didn’t think there was any chance of discovery.
Luke entered, followed by Emmett.
Jasper stood beside the opening, waiting for her to follow the others. “I knew you’d succeed,” he said, his voice hardly more than a mumble.
“It was hardly a success,” Abigail said. “I acted foolishly.”
“You acted bravely.” His eyes held hers. “Sometimes it is the same thing.”
She felt pleased at the compliment, knowing Jasper did not give praise lightly.
He started back down the creek bed, and Abigail smiled at his abrupt manner of ending the conversation.
She entered the cave-like room and shivered. Just like the springhouse at home, a creek ran beneath this stone building, keeping the inside cool during the warmer months. A single lantern sat on the floor, illuminating bedrolls, blankets, and provisions, arranged tidily as befitted soldiers.
“Abigail!” Barney scooped her up in an embrace. “I am so glad you didn’t hang.”
She smiled at his candor. “I am as well.”
He released her and stepped back, a grin on his round face. “And you saved the captain.”
; “Well, to be precise, the captain saved me,” she said.
“My masculine honor thanks you for the clarification, Miss Tidwell.” Emmett swooped his hand and gave an exaggerated bow.
“Glad to see you safe, miss.” Murphy stepped forward. He put an arm around her shoulders and offered a mug of warm broth, which she gladly accepted.
Jasper came into the room and closed the door. “Our tracks are covered and, so far, no sign of pursuers, but they’ll be about soon enough.”
The moment of happy reunion ended as they were reminded of the peril of their circumstances. Abigail sighed, dismayed. “I’ve placed you all in danger.”
Emmett took the cup from her shaking hand and slid his arm around her waist.
“It’s the nature of war, miss,” Murphy said. “We all knew what we were getting into when we enlisted.”
“And we’ve been in worse danger from eating Barney’s cooking,” Luke said.
The others laughed, but to her ears it sounded forced.
She smiled at the attempt to ease the tension, but the reality was, they were a small group in enemy territory. And soon, the forest would be crawling with redcoats searching for them. They’d get no mercy if they were captured again.
“We’re in much better shape now that our captain is here to make a plan,” Murphy said.
They sat on the bedrolls around the edge of the small room, with the lantern in the center, much like they’d done at camp around the fire.
Emmett draped the blanket from the prison cell around Abigail’s shoulders, and she pulled it tight against the chill of the stones.
He bent forward, arms resting on his knees. “We haven’t a map, but I believe Byron to be near the center of Lake Erie, more than a hundred miles from Detroit in the West and Niagara in the East.” He moved his finger over the ground as if drawing a diagram on the stones.
“They’ll be expecting us to go south. Cross the lake into New York,” Jasper said.
“Can we cross?” Emmett asked. “Is the lake still frozen?”
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