Field of Redemption Read online

  “That’s not for Farris to decide.” Ian moved closer to where the general stood.

  Alarm pressed him to take action, even if it meant storming the gates.

  “Oh, but it is. There are no national laws to try—or protect—one caught communicating intelligence to the enemy. Therefore, we refer to international law. Which states in times of war, spies are subject to execution without trial. At the discretion of the authorities charging them.”

  Ian placed both hands on the table and willed himself to take a breath.

  Farris was completely irrational when it came to Abby. His hate for her ruled his decisions and dictated his actions. He was not above using fabricated charges to justify her arrest.

  Standing, Ian placed a hand on the hilt of the sword hanging at his side.

  If what the general said was true, in the eyes of military law, Abby was already declared guilty with no chance to prove her innocence.

  General Hawthorne crossed his arms. “In biding his time until he had reasonable cause to charge her, Farris has effectively tied my hands, and that of the mayor, and all local law enforcement for that matter. This is the only allegation he could have brought against her, where he alone dictates her arrest and punishment.”

  Ian needed to get to Abby.

  Farris was devious enough to have her executed before the ink was dry on her arrest papers. He had to be stopped.

  With a nod, Ian reached for the door. “Thank you, Sir.”

  “Saberton, you mustn’t let your feelings for Miss McFadden sully your judgement. You can’t barge in there demanding her release on a habeas corpus.” General Hawthorne met him at the door. “If Farris feels threatened, he will order her immediate execution. And you will have no choice but to stand by and watch.”

  “That will not happen.” Ian ground out. “You and I both know she’s innocent. And she’s a woman besides. The army would never justify hanging a woman in a prisoner of war camp.”

  “Farris would be reprimanded, no doubt.” The smell of his cigar engulfed the small space between them as Hawthorne placed a hand on Ian’s shoulder. “But Abby would still be dead.”

  The bell tower rang in the ninth hour, and Ian’s composure took a beating with every toll.

  “I will kill him with my bare hands before I let that happen.” Ian seethed with a rage like he had never known.

  “And that is why I cannot let you go out to the garrison alone.” General Hawthorne extinguished his cigar. “You may accompany me, but you will not take matters into your own hands. Is that understood?”

  Moving away from the door, Ian snatched open the confining top button of his collar. “I won’t leave there without her.”

  “You will not leave with her unless we persuade Farris to give her up. Short of storming the compound and inspecting every cell until we find her, we will need to somehow secure Farris’ cooperation. Otherwise, we will be the ones reprimanded by the council.”

  Ian didn’t trust himself to speak. A bitter taste filled his mouth as he thought about having to placate Farris.

  But for Abby’s sake he was willing to spit polish the man’s shoes if it won her freedom.

  “Have you thought about how we are supposed to persuade Farris to give her up?” Ian finally asked.

  Thumping the table with the knuckles of his fist, the general suddenly stood up straighter. “I have an idea. But we’ll need Cora’s help.”

  Ian turned a skeptical eye toward the general.

  The last thing Abby needed was Mrs. Dobbs and her band of militant females.

  “No one denies Cora. And he wouldn’t dare harm our women.”

  “Those who deny freedom to others deserve it not themselves.”

  ~ Abraham Lincoln

  Eighteen

  Through a thin window next to the ceiling of her small cell, Abby watched dawn fight through a dark blanket of clouds to splay a single ray over the city of Macon. Heavy swirls of mist drifted past, intermittent with the vapor of despair that loomed to her very core.

  Every second of the endless night had been spent in prayer. Without Divine assistance, her chances of escaping the tentacles of Farris’ revenge was slim to none.

  Beyond the stench of misery and disease reeking from every pore of the concrete wall, hundreds of sunken, lackluster eyes had followed her tow through the well-fortified courtyard. Their appearance was more animal than man as they watched her pass with detached interest. As if their sanity had been put aside in order to survive another day.

  Abby was no stranger to carnage and disfigurement caused by battle. But this scourge of madness was a different sort of damage that was more disturbing than anything she’d ever encountered under a triage tent.

  As though a deeper evil was in operation here. One not satisfied with simply killing the body, but intent on stealing a man’s soul.

  By the early hours of morning, Abby made a vow that if given the slightest opportunity to escape, she’d accept it as a gift from on high and run as fast as she was able without a backward glance.

  With truth as her guard, she’d find a way to escape. Even if it meant leaving her heart behind with the only man who’d ever cared enough to protect it.

  “Halt!”

  Abby couldn’t see the sentry on the high wall outside her window, but his voice pierced the early morning silence setting off a cacophony of barking dogs in the surrounding neighborhoods.

  Rising to her feet, she strained to make sense of garbled voices accompanied by a clatter of hoofbeats. If her ears didn’t deceive her, the voices were female, one sounding suspiciously like Cora Dobbs’.

  It was all Abby could do not to call out to her.

  Please let it be Cora. Help her know I’m here.

  “At ease, private,” General Hawthorne commanded when the guard refused to lower his weapon. “We’ve come to see General Farris.”

  “My orders are to keep all intruders at bay, Sir.” The young private was barely old enough to have fuzz on his lip. Ian had a hard time believing Farris would put a new recruit out front to keep guard.

  “We are not intruders, Teddy Dean Junior.” Cora leaned forward from her buggy. “You know exactly who I am. Cora Hawthorne Dobbs. I gave you Sunday School lessons your entire life. Now let us by before I have a word with your mama.”

  All the ladies were talking at once again.

  Ian almost felt sorry for the kid. Backed into a corner, having to decide which was more foreboding, facing the wrath of General Farris, or answering to his mama for being discourteous to Mrs. Cora.

  With a defeated head shake, the young soldier let his rifle slide to the ground and called for the gate to be opened.

  “Rev.” Fitz jerked his chin toward the wall.

  Ian’s eye was drawn up to the two sentries up on the walkway who still had their guns trained on them.

  Ian tightened a hold on his rifle, barrel down but ready to fire if need be.

  “Steady, Colonel.” General Hawthorne’s warning came quiet but clear. “Stay focused on our mission.”

  Ian hadn’t been keen on bringing the women along in the first place.

  Fitz had ranted all the way here that the whole idea was ridiculous.

  Ian couldn’t disagree.

  But Hawthorne had insisted. “When the battle gets fierce, you bring out your sharpest weapons.”

  Part of him had to wonder if Cora Dobbs’ brother wasn’t as browbeaten by her as the rest of this town.

  With Abby’s future at stake, nothing but dogged determination and superior wit would see their mission accomplished today. Ian looked over at the six petticoat mercenaries, riding in a fringed buggy beside him. Cora Dobbs, two Lambert women, an ancient woman with magnifying spectacles, the pastor’s wife, and a little lady in a huge bonnet that hadn’t stopped yapping since they’d first set out.

  He could only pray for a miracle.

  Camp Oglethorpe was hammered out in huge black letters arching over the double gate. As each gate swung o
pen, they were assaulted by a putrid odor that seemed to come from a murky stream running the length of the west end, obviously used for sewage by man and animal alike. The ladies’ yowling was immediate. Lace hankies were brought out to cover their delicate noses.

  Once inside the tall, paneled fortress, a separate picket fence made a pen of sorts in the center, filled to capacity with ghostly-thin bodies, filthy and sparsely covered. Some sat with knees up rocking and singing to themselves. Others lay curled and eerily still.

  These same men were officers of the Union army. Most had courageously led their men into battle just a few short months ago. Reduced to little more than human waste. Seemingly resigned to starvation and disease with nothing left inside to be defeated.

  Fitz let out a slow whistle.

  Countless horror stories had been told of Union prisons, just like this one, in Richmond, New York, and Illinois. Evidently, both sides were blinded to humanity by a thirst for victory. Anything was permissible as long as it furthered their cause.

  Indignation rose in Ian’s chest. Righteous indignation is what the Chancellor would have called it.

  Ian hadn’t been convinced he could even feel such a thing anymore.

  Surveying the disregard for humanity in front of him, he would attest that whatever one chose to call it, he was utterly disgusted and saddened by man’s depravity.

  Even the ladies fell silent as they left their buggy to follow a sergeant major to the prison’s office, which stood only a few feet from the gate.

  “I’ll inform the general you are here.” The hulking man Ian recognized as Farris’ aide-de-camp lieutenant gave a stiff bow and exited through another door on the opposite side of the room.

  Farris’s office was a sharp contrast to the conditions outside its door. An opulent Persian rug lay over a glossy wood floor where two desks sat at an angle with a wall of mahogany bookshelves gracing one entire wall behind them. An expensive crystal decanter set rested atop a Duncan Phyfe sideboard with a tray of pastries set out beside it.

  Only one with Farris’ callousness would have the audacity to languor in luxury while hundreds of men lay dying of starvation outside his window.

  “I knew that old walrus was hateful, but this even more heinous than I could’ve imagined.” Cora Dobbs folded her gloved hands atop the hilt of her parasol. “I don’t even want to think about what our poor Abby has had to endure in this awful place.”

  Elizabeth Lambert covered her mouth with a trembling hand. Eliza Jane put an arm about her mother’s shoulders. They both looked as if they wanted to cry.

  Ian’s blood began to boil.

  Fitz spoke up. “If Farris has treated that girl any way less than honorable, I’ll personally take it out of his hide. An’ there ain’t a court in this land that’ll convict me for it.”

  “Let’s all remain calm, now.” General Hawthorn held up a hand. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. We will wait until we see her before we make any rash determinations. At which time, I will be the one making them.”

  “Georgie, go see what’s taking them so long.” Cora hitched her skirt and moved to the window. “Somebody better go watch the gate. I wouldn’t put it past him to try and sneak her out when we’re not looking.”

  “I took a side door once.” The woman with glasses spoke up. “But, the train was still going. I hung on for dear life until the porter swung me back in.”

  “Mable Lea, what on earth would cause you to do such a thing?” Elizabeth Lambert asked, concern knitting her brow.

  “I thought it was the water closet.”

  Cora turned and set a hand on her hip. “You mean to tell me you stepped off a moving train looking for the necessary room?”

  The old woman scrunched her nose trying to find Cora in the room. “Well, it wasn’t necessary after that, I assure you.”

  Eliza Jane snorted.

  “Mable Lea, I’m over here.” Cora lifted her watch from the chatelaine pinned at her waist. “He has five minutes before I go hunt him down.”

  Ian was just about to do the same when the door burst open, and Farris stumbled inside. Uniform crumpled with his shirt tail untucked. His thinning hair disheveled, and bloodshot eyes squinting against the sunlight. It was apparent the general had just rolled out of bed.

  “General Farris!” Cora balled her white gloved fists and marched over to meet him. “Explain yourself this instant.”

  “I would have to agree, General. This is most alarming.” Hawthorne stuck his hand into an unbuttoned opening in his vest.

  Farris’ eyes darted from one to another. “The Yankee spy tried to murder me.”

  “Good for her!” Eliza Jane erupted before her mother and the preacher’s wife frowned her into calming down.

  “I find that hard to believe.” The sound of Ian’s heavy boots echoed on the plank floor as he took slow steps to where Farris swayed. The sound appeared to unnerve the man. “Abby rarely leaves matters unfinished. If she truly intended to see you killed, you wouldn’t be standing here.”

  “You tell ’em, Rev.” Fitz lifted his foot to rest on the head of a porcelain bulldog next to one of the desks.

  “Believe what you will. The McFadden woman will soon get her comeuppance.” Farris avoided Ian, skirting around him to take a seat behind his desk. Rubbing his temples, he sent his assistant for dogwood tea. “Dare I ask what brings you all out visiting so early of a morning?”

  “It’s been reported that you have placed Miss McFadden under arrest.” General Hawthorne began. “I would like to see a list of her charges.”

  “You can just go get her while you’re at it.” Cora stamped her parasol and came to stand in front of Farris’ desk.

  The other women fell in right behind her, adding their agreements. “And what’s more, we are not leaving here without her.”

  “I’m not releasing her, ladies, so you are in for a long stay.” Farris had trouble focusing. When his aide returned with his tea, he nearly burned himself trying to take a gulp. “Did your informants also tell you she drugged me and tried to escape?”

  Ian leaned over the desk, forcing Farris to try and focus on him. “No. But every man on that ward said they heard you attack her. She fled in self-defense.” He let his voice rise until Farris cringed.

  “Here.” Farris pushed a paper to the end of his desk. “See her charges for yourself.”

  Ian took up the paper and Cora came to read next one arm, Elizabeth Lambert at the other.

  Defendant:

  Miss Abigail McFadden

  Nurse, Floyd House Hospital

  Macon, Bibb County, Georgia

  Charge:

  Espionage

  Evidence:

  A. Defendant hails from a state involved in the Northern Aggression

  B. Letter found on deceased Union soldier at sight of Union raid included directions to storage at Confederate guarded warehouse signed by Defendant.

  C. Coin pendant in Defendant’s possession reported stolen in said Union raid.

  Punishment:

  To be hanged by the neck until dead.

  “You will not hang Abby!” Cora blurted causing the other ladies to gasp.

  General Hawthorne stepped forward and took the warrant. “Sir, this is the South. We do not under any circumstances hang our women.”

  “I won’t personally, but I’ll be glad to issue the order to see the deed done.” Farris took another drink from his tea and made a face.

  It took all the restraint Ian could muster not to snatch the arrogant windbag out of his chair and pin him to the wall.

  General Hawthorne must have sensed Ian’s struggle. Stepping up to the desk, he put himself between Ian and the desk where Farris sat looking much too smug. “You overlook an important detail, General. According to your warrant, this case is not yours, but falls to Colonel Saberton.”

  Farris’s face paled. The dark bags under his eyes becoming even more visible. “My case, my prisoner.”

  “Of course, if you
refuse to follow the dictates of the law, it could be your own hanging we attend.” Hawthorne pivoted and let Ian regain his place in front to the desk.

  The women nodded.

  “What are you talking about?” Farris was paranoid in an instant. “I gathered the evidence. I had the defendant arrested. My hard work. Months of having her watched. You’ll not take this from me.”

  “That’s right, Georg … General.” Cora folded her arms. “When you were making up charges, Buford, you should’ve made up that she was spying on this den of abomination you’re running. That’s the only way you’d have any say about it.”

  Ian folded Abby’s warrant and put it in his breast pocket. “The storehouses are my assignment, General. Therefore, Miss McFadden’s is my case. And she is now my prisoner.”

  “So go get her at once.” Cora spoke directly to Farris’ aide.

  “Immediately, young man!” Elizabeth Lambert stood beside her, pointing to the door.

  “You should be ashamed of yourself, General Farris!” Mable Lee whacked the coat rack with her parasol, sending it toppling to the floor.

  “She is to be hanged for crimes committed against the Confederacy.” Farris appeared anxious as he began to noticeably sweat.

  “She’ll be put under house arrest at the Lambert home until her allegations are proven or disproven.” Ian settled his hat in place.

  One conversation with Doc should take care of that.

  The sooner he collected Abby and got the women out safely, the sooner he could send a telegram to the Secretary of War requesting a tribunal inquisition. Hopefully, Ian could clear her name before their set time to meet and the dismissal of her case would just be a formality.

  “I’ll guarantee you one thing, Farris.” Ian turned a hard stare at Camp Oglethorpe’s commanding general. “She better not have been mistreated. All findings of today’s visit will be included in my report to the Governor.”