Field of Redemption Page 11

  That image was forever burned into her memory.

  “And your mother was with him?” Something akin to sadness shone in Ian’s eyes.

  “She was.” Waves of sorrow still washed over her when she thought about them. Her life would have been so different had they lived. She would have stayed out west and had their love to guide her. “My mother taught the Cayuse children, and they adored her. She was a model of human kindness.”

  “Much like her daughter.” Ian would never know how much his casual remark meant to her. “You were their only child?”

  Abby gave a slight smile. “Yes. My mother used to say that I was a special gift to her by God. He’d given her a dream that she would one day have a red-headed angel. She said from the first moment she laid eyes on me, she knew her dream had been fulfilled.”

  Up until four years ago, Abby couldn’t tell the story without choking up. She wasn’t sure if she had matured over time or just grown more impervious to its affect.

  “My hair has lost most of the red I was born with. It’s more golden like my mother’s now.” She gathered the thick braid down her back and brought it over her shoulder.

  “How did you end up back in Ohio?” Ian’s horse tossed his head, wanting to stop and have a taste of the grass.

  Abby pulled her wrap tighter around her shoulders. “After my parent’s death, I became a ward of the church. My father had no family in this country and my mother’s family was scattered. I briefly stayed with the local minister and his wife, but they were older and ready to retire. They were not prepared to take in a grieving six-year-old.”

  “So they gave you up?” Ian’s brow furrowed.

  “I ran away.” Abby answered quietly. She’d been so young and disillusioned. She’d gone searching for a life that didn’t exist anymore. “I was placed twice more before staying with my foster family at thirteen.”

  Abby lifted the hem of her skirt and stepped lightly over a rut in the road. Those were lonely years she’d put out of her mind.

  She felt him looking down at her as they walked. “Why did it take four tries to find you a suitable home?”

  Abby shrugged and tucked a stray curl over her ear. The truth was the truth. There was no way around it. “I kept running away.”

  Pointing to the sky, she made an attempt to change the subject. “Oh, look! A falling star.” In the limitless universe up there, surely a star must be falling somewhere. She cut her gaze to see if he was following her new train of thought.

  Ian’s lips quirked at her lame effort. “We can talk about the running away another time.” He spoke louder to be heard above the clop of his horse’s hooves when they turned a corner and the dirt road became brick. “I’d like to go with you to visit the shanty town.”

  Abby stopped abruptly.

  He shouldered the horse to keep him from running them over.

  “You would?” Abby had to keep herself from becoming too excited. Maybe she hadn’t heard him right. No one ever wanted to go with her out to the shanty.

  “I would.” Ian urged her on with a nod of his head.

  “We can go tomorrow. My shift ends at midnight tonight. I’m on surgery duty at seven in the morning, but we should be done by noon. I won’t have to be back until nine.”

  “Hold on.” Ian laughed. “Tomorrow I have plenty to do. Maybe some—”

  “Tomorrow.” Abby smiled up at him, nearly beside herself with excitement. “I’ll have Eliza Jane pack us a lunch and we can eat along the way.”

  “All right, Angel. Tomorrow.”

  Abby froze.

  No one had called her Angel since the last time she’d kissed her papa goodbye.

  Not sure if it was her unwavering confidence in him or her infectious smile, but Ian finally relented to go with her out to the shanty. General Wheeler was expecting a headcount from the surrounding settlements, so this would not be a trip wasted.

  “They are good children. Most are war-orphaned except Hickory.” Abby strolled leisurely beside him as she continued to talk. “They are healthy. Mama Ivy and I have seen to that. Essentially, they’d make a loving addition to anyone willing to give them a home. But how will the people ever see what wonderful children they are if they’re shunned from every event?”

  The sincerity shining on her face humbled him.

  Abby wasn’t asking for great amounts of money or fame to further a career. She only hoped that every child be given a chance to find love and acceptance.

  A passing carriage caused them to move closer to the walkway.

  “Generally orphaned children are taken in by family and friends. But those with no particular pedigree or surviving relatives have been left to themselves. They end up like these kids, abandoned and alone.” He liked the way Abby reasoned things aloud. She had a quick mind and a compassionate heart. “The church is fragmented. In no condition to care for them. Unfortunately, the war continues to add dozens more orphans by the day.”

  Ian could easily see her concern. “Promise me you’ll give it time. All the good intentions in the world won’t transform centuries old problems in a day.” Ian spotted a lady peering at them from her parlor window. She waved with a pleased smile. “Only a deep change of heart can bring about the difference you envision.”

  “Yes, but they haven’t the luxury of time.” Abby’s shoulders fell with a heavy sigh. “Hickory’s nearly ten years old. The army’s determined he’s eligible for the draft in five years. Two older boys don’t know from day to day what their fate will be.”

  Without thinking, he took her hand and tucked in the crook of his arm. “Keep advocating for them, Abby.” He searched the starless sky. “Maybe God made you stubborn as a mule for a reason.”

  Abby cast an impish grin his way. “If it makes things better for the children, Cora can call me whatever she likes.”

  A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as they stopped at the steps of the hospital. “See you tomorrow then.”

  On impulse, Ian ran the back of two fingers down the delicate curve of her cheek, enjoying the silken contour of her skin. Smoothing a stray wisp of hair from her eyes, he tucked it behind her ear as he’d seen her do so many times.

  Abby turned her head into his touch.

  “After drills in the morning, I’ll meet you at the stables about noon.” Ian let his hand drop to his side.

  “I’ll be over as soon as I’m free. And thank you.” With that, she stepped away and disappeared through the hospital entrance.

  Ian watched her leave, then swung up into his saddle. “Quite welcome, Angel.”

  Gently prodding his horse, he turned toward camp.

  “It is easier to build strong children than to repair broken men.”

  ~ Fredrick Douglass

  Thirteen

  Lifting her face to the sun, Abby took in living, breathing color in every direction.

  Fields of emerald green grass with soaring southern pines lined the western horizon against a cerulean blue sky. Orchards to the left were laid out in rows with brightly colored leaves dotting their branches surrounded by rolling hills, teeming with trees in various stages of yellow, orange, and red.

  The fifteen minute ride just northeast of the city didn’t usually take an hour, but every so often Abby would see a look of concentration come over Ian’s face as he slowed the horse and buggy. She could only imagine the responsibility he carried in keeping a step ahead of the Union armies. Knowing the safety of every person occupying this area was on his shoulders.

  Abby was thankful he’d agreed to come with her at all.

  Watching Ian look over this country, Abby could easily see the pride he took in this beautiful land he called home.

  “If I remember, it’s just up the road here.” Ian surveyed the hills to the north.

  “Yes. That wagon trail just beyond this field leads to a train trestle.” Abby pointed with her gloved finger. “The shanty town is set up below. The shacks are so close to the tracks, it’s deafening when a train crosse
s over.”

  “Dangerous for a bunch of kids to be playing under.” The irritation in his voice was unmistakable.

  This was as good a time as any to ask him about something that was bothering her. “Ian, the army would never use the shanty children to do anything dangerous, would they?” She shaded her eyes with a hand to take in his response.

  Ian pulled in the reins and pushed his hat back on his brow. “No, of course not. What makes you ask?”

  “I don’t know it for a fact, but Hickory said a while back some soldiers approached the boys about carrying explosives for them. Apparently, they’re the only ones who could fit in the crevices of the trestle and ferries. Surely, the army doesn’t plan to blow up bridges with people living beneath them. They offered the boys a dollar per explosive. That is a lot of money to these children who have nothing.”

  “Abby, are you certain?” Ian turned the horse’s head from grazing with his reins and gave a nudge to keep him moving.

  “Ask Hickory about it. He can give you more details.” Relief flooded her at hearing Ian’s men were not the ones who’d approached the boys. Abby couldn’t rest until she knew they would be safe. “Who do you think they were?”

  A frown creased his brow. “I can say for certain they weren’t Rebs. My men are the only ones responsible for destroying the railroad lines around here. But that won’t happen until there’s a clear danger of Federals moving in. And never if any children are around.”

  “Well, that only leaves deserters or …” Maybe if she didn’t say it aloud, it would keep them from coming.

  “Or the Union army.” He said it for her as he quickened the horse’s pace.

  They rode in silence the rest of the way, each deep in their own thoughts.

  Having seen firsthand what explosives could do to a grown man, she refused to consider what they might do to a boy Hickory’s size. What kind of man would ask a child to take such a risk?

  When the trestle bridge came into sight, Ian slowed the buggy.

  “Down there.” Abby let the wretchedness of the place speak for itself. “This is where dozens have sought refuge.”

  Below, men of all sizes, shapes and race milled about the dark lean-tos. An older boy pumped a handle while a little girl filled a tin bucket with water. Clothes and towels, hung out to dry, crisscrossing throughout the wooden beams.

  The two of them sat unnoticed in their buggy watching in silence for a good five minutes. The clean scent of pines and harvest grasses gave way to the smell of bacon and burned coffee grounds. Goats roamed freely and chickens pecked at discarded ears of corn while a couple of roosters strutted among them.

  Abby adjusted her bonnet to better shade her eyes. “The larger tent in the middle belongs to Mama Ivy. The children all sleep there, too.”

  “Our stables at home are better shelter than this.” His admission caused her to look over at him to see if he was teasing. His dark eyes beneath his hat held no sign of playfulness. From what she could tell, he was completely serious.

  With a flick of the reins, Ian guided the buggy down the broken trail. When it dipped in a washed out rut, he laid his arm across her lap to make sure she was steadied.

  Abby smiled to herself at his protectiveness, even though she wasn’t used to being given special treatment. The consideration Ian showed her made her feel as if he genuinely valued her.

  Once on level ground, they followed the path forged by others from the upper bank.

  Two or three canvas tents were set up on the point bar. Otherwise, shabby lean-tos scattered around the outer flats.

  “Lady!” A dark-skinned boy, knee-deep in the uneven creek, dropped the tin cup in his hand and trudged to where Abby climbed down from the buggy. “Lady, you came. You bring somethin’ good to eat?”

  “That all depends. Have you been working on your numbers like I showed you?”

  “Yes’m.” He nodded emphatically. “I got all the way up to my four by’s.”

  “Abby!” Hickory stuck his head from a tent and ran to greet her. “I thought Doc had you working today.”

  “I finished at noon.” Abby answered even though his attention was clearly on Ian. “Is this your day to help at the telegraph office?”

  His lips were cracked from being too long in the sun, so Abby reached for a small jar of aloe balm from the pocket in her skirt.

  Shaking his head, he was unable to answer while she applied a liberal amount of the salve to his puckered mouth. As soon as she let go of his chin, he answered with a sour look. “Not until tomorrow. I’ll get my money then.”

  The first boy stuck his lips out for some balm, too.

  When Abby complied, he swiped his dingy sleeve across his nose. “Is he gonna put us in jail?”

  “No, this is Colonel Saberton.”

  Ian led the horse down to the murky water for a drink.

  Taking the boy’s hand, Abby brought him over for a proper introduction. “Ian, I’d like you to meet my friend, Little Jon.”

  “A pleasure, Little Jon.” Ian held out a hand, but the boy hesitated to offer his own, looking up instead at Abby for reassurance.

  Two other children came over with their hands out to have a turn.

  “This is Molly and this is Paco.”

  Paco had lost another tooth up top since Abby had seen him last.

  “Colonel Saberton is a good man to know.” Abby smiled as Paco skewed his lips to one side and took the offered hand without looking up at Ian.

  “Boy!” The bellow came from inside a tent, but Abby didn’t need to see a face to know they’d stirred the wrath of the man they called Mo.

  Quick as a flash, Little Jon retrieved his cup and was back in the water.

  Ian’s hand was on the hilt of his sword as a frown wrinkled his brow.

  “That’s the self-appointed camp boss, Moses.” Abby folded her arms while watching the others duck their heads and continue their tasks. “He’s a deserter and mean from what I’ve seen. The children are half-terrified of him. He won’t cross Mama Ivy though, and she makes certain they are not hurt.”

  Ian said nothing but swiped his hat from his head and dusted it against his britches. “How many women and children are out here?” His eyes followed three females silently scrubbing clothing with rocks against a worn wash board.

  “You met Mama Ivy. Halona is Creek Indian. Mo bought her from a fur trader.” Abby couldn’t hide the disgust in her voice. “And Mrs. Oberhaus is the other lady. She and her husband came for gold in the mountains north of here. From somewhere up near the great lakes. But Mr. Oberhaus got typhoid fever and died a few months back. She has the two little girls playing there beside her. Since they have no home and no money, they stay here. She helps Mama Ivy with cooking.”

  Ian gave a sweeping glance at the men milling about the camp. Some had come out to have a look at the visitors. One had a pick axe in his hand.

  “There are about twenty men total.” Abby provided. “Other than the two women you see here and Mama Ivy there are no other women. Any woman who comes seeking shelter usually ends up at the Dove’s Nest courtesy of Mo.”

  Ian gave his head a toss before smoothing his hat back in place. “How many more children are up here besides Little Jon, and Hickory?”

  “Six. You’ve met them all except Mrs. Oberhaus’ girls.” Abby followed as Ian led the horse to a tree and flung the reins over a branch. “They are the only ones who have living relatives.”

  When Mo emerged from his tent, Ian reached over and took Abby’s hand into his own.

  “Miss Abby?” Someone tugged at her skirt. Abby found four-year-old Inga Oberhaus impatiently waiting to be noticed. “Miss Abby, did you bring us something to eat?”

  “Eat!” The two-year-old wearing only a diaper echoed her sister.

  “I surely did.” Abby retrieved a small paper package tied with twine from the buggy as they both clapped for joy. “Be a big girl and carry this over to your mama for me, please.”

  “And do
you think you two can eat an apple turnover all by yourselves?” Handing juicy pastries to Molly and Paco, Abby got excited squeals in answer.

  When she turned back to Ian, he watched her closely, but she couldn’t read his expression.

  Smiling, she took another heavier package down from the buggy and began to walk down to where Mrs. Oberhaus waved to her. “I haven’t been able to come often, but I try to bring salt, flour, bacon … that sort of thing. And a few treats for the children.”

  Ian took the packet and hefted it up on one broad shoulder. “That’s not happening again.”

  Taken aback, she stared at him as he made his way down the slope to where Mrs. Oberhaus and Mama Ivy waited.

  Hitching her skirt with one hand, she quickly caught up with him, practically running to match his long strides. “If you’re worried that Mo will harm me, you can put your mind at ease. As long as I bring food and supplies, he’s happy to leave me alone. He likes to eat like the rest of them.”

  Tossing her curls over her shoulder, she cast a leery glance at Mo who sneered at her with arms crossed. Truth be told, he was a bit scary. But she never came past dark and never stayed long enough for him to bother her.

  “I’ve only come a couple of times, and I keep my stay to a minimum so he has no reason to take it out on Hickory or any of the others after I leave.”

  “Hickory’s coming with us.” Ian looked around. “Where is he?”

  Abby placed a hand on Ian’s arm. “Hickory can’t come with us.”

  “My men are in the process of setting up refugee camps within the city. I’ll set aside three for the women and children. They will get rations and the camps are secured by patrols. Fitz will make arrangements for transfer as soon as we get back.”

  Ian wasn’t used to having his orders questioned.

  Abby proceeded carefully. “You don’t understand.” She lowered her voice to avoid being overheard. “Just like Farris owned Sallie, he now has possession of Hickory.”