Field of Redemption Page 23

  Oddly, that option didn’t appeal to Abby in the least.

  “I wish Zach were here.” Aurora whispered.

  Tori removed a cookie from Rachelle’s small hand. “And Nicholas. Lord, keep him safe wherever he is tonight.”

  “We’ll pray for them all.” Dottie swept the scraps into a bucket. “And pray mercy for our dear Georgia.”

  “Such travesty.” Too afraid to faint, Mrs. Charlotte peered over her hankie. “What will become of us?”

  Their festive gathering from moments before had dissolved into a collective puddle of nerves.

  Abby couldn’t stand by and do nothing.

  Dottie had said, “Find your strength, do what only you can do and do it well.”

  Her parents had done nothing. They’d burned with the rest of the mission. How many times had she wished they would have fought back? Used any means at their disposal to spare their own lives and the lives of those they loved.

  Well, Abby did have the means to do something. And she had every intention of using it. If she were killed for her effort, then so be it. Standing by, helplessly waiting for the inevitable, was not in her.

  “Mrs. Saberton, I must ask a favor.” Kissing Hickory’s cheek, Abby stood.

  “What is it, Abby?” Ian’s mother stopped wiping down the worktable, giving her full attention.

  “I need the use of a strong horse.”

  “Tonight?” Mrs. Saberton lowered her towel.

  “As soon as possible.” Abby untied the apron from her waist and rolled down her sleeves.

  “Abby, what are you planning to do?” Aurora came to her side with concern on her face.

  “You can hardly stop an army all by yourself.” Tori added at her other side.

  “Maybe she’s gonna go get Mrs. Cora. She could stop an army all by herself!” Hickory offered with conviction.

  “What have you in mind?” Dottie motioned for Amos to come into the kitchen.

  Abby had made up her mind and was eager to get going. “The constable said General Sherman and his men were in Milledgeville today. Tomorrow has been declared a day of thanksgiving by the President of the Union. That means it’s a mandated holiday for their troops, so they will still be there tomorrow. Whatever else General Sherman may be, he is not one to openly defy his president’s wishes.”

  Mrs. Saberton spoke quietly to Amos who nodded and left out the back.

  “Abby! You can’t be thinking of going straight into that pit of vipers.” Mrs. Charlotte wrung her hands. “Dottie, do something.”

  “That’s exactly what I plan to do.” Abby came around the table in front of them, smoothing a wisp of hair from her brow. “I am from the North. A citizen of the Union. They will accept me into their camp and take me straight to see their general.”

  “I had considered going myself.” Mrs. Saberton put her arm around Abby’s waist. “But I’ll agree you definitely have the advantage.”

  More than they knew.

  “But Milledgeville’s a good day’s ride.” Aurora took out the last batch of cookies. “And it’s frigid cold out there.”

  “If I recall, the train to Milledgeville leaves tonight.” Dottie started for the door. “As long as the rails haven’t been destroyed, we could possibly make it all the way before noon tomorrow. If the rails are not there, we’ll go as far as we can. I can check our horses into a stockcar in case we need them.”

  The women all began talking at once.

  “Did you say we?” Abby hurried to the door to intercept Mrs. Saberton. “I can’t put you in that kind of danger.”

  “Well, I’m not letting you go by yourself.” Dottie accepted a railroad flyer from Amos. “Let’s see. The train leaves for Milledgeville at eleven twenty-nine.” Lifting a timepiece pinned at her waist, she nodded. “That gives us two and a half hours to get to the depot. It’ll take an hour to get there from here.”

  Ian would never forgive her if anything happened to his mother because of a reckless chance Abby felt she must take. She’d considered stealing away in the night, borrowing a horse from the stables, but decided it was best to be upfront and ask permission.

  Hopefully, she wouldn’t regret that decision.

  Mrs. Saberton looked at Abby through clear brown eyes. “Abby, Samuel was at West Point with William Sherman. My husband was well thought of there. I’m hoping the general will agree to see us when he hears that I am Samuel’s widow.”

  “But you don’t understand, I—”

  “No, I’m not naïve enough to think I can persuade him to end this brutal rampage all together. But I’m hoping we can at least convince him to make some concessions where Savannah is concerned.”

  “Dottie, you mean to say you’re going to meet with that devil, too?” Mrs. Charlotte was beside herself. “Whatever will we do?”

  “Pray for us, Charlotte. We’ll need all the prayer you can muster.” Dottie removed her apron and tossed it over a chair.

  “Well, at least put on a traveling gown first.” Charlotte Haverwood tsked. “He’ll never let you in looking like that.”

  Abby’s brows drew together. The little woman was as variable as the wind.

  “Tori, take Abby upstairs and do something with her hair.” She waved her hand toward Abby as if she were planning a garden party. “Those Yankees won’t know what to do with such elegance and style.”

  “Come with me.” Tori ushered her out to the staircase. “Just keep moving and whatever you do, don’t let her put you in a hat.”

  Exactly one hour later, Abby stood at the top of the stairs wearing the most elegant green traveling ensemble she’d ever laid eyes on. Trimmed in dark blue ribbon that perfectly matched the cuff sleeves and leather gloves, the dress belonged to Aurora and had easily cost two years’ worth of hospital wages.

  Mrs. Charlotte dropped her lace fan to the floor with a clatter as soon as she saw Abby coming down the stairs. “Is this the same girl?”

  “I can’t get over how pretty you are, Abby.” Aurora had been staring at it ever since Tori had inserted the last pin into the upswept curls. “You wear that color of dress much better than I do.”

  Abby was having a hard time believing it herself.

  “Here’s your reticule.” Tori lifted Abby’s hand and hung a fringed bag from her wrist. “I’ve included a few essentials, including a slingshot. You never know when you’ll need a slingshot.”

  Slingshot?

  “I’d like it if you’d wear these as well.” Mrs. Saberton descending the grand staircase in an exquisite burgundy suit. As she approached, Abby saw that she held a flat velvet box.

  “They belonged to Ian’s grandmother, the Duchess of Brechenridge. They are to be a gift to his wife.” As she opened the box, Abby’s eyes grew large.

  A pair of diamond and emerald drop earrings lay nestled inside. “They are merely a loan until the time comes when Ian can give them himself.”

  Abby barely recognized herself when she passed a large mirror set in an intricately carved coat rack. All of the beautiful trappings and frippery made her feel like a grande dame of the ball.

  “And there’s a pocket in your petticoat in case you need it.” Aurora lifted the outer skirt and showed a slit in the side of Abby’s petticoat. “Mama said the Parisians invented them to keep the keys to their lover’s apartments.”

  “So, I’ve been told anyhow.” Mrs. Charlotte had retrieved her fan and gave it a respectable flutter. “Before Jean Pierre hopped on a ship back to Europe, he used to tell the most scandalous stories.”

  “Wait for me.” Hickory bounded down the stairs with Rachelle at his heels. He had a hunting rifle tucked under his arm that was as tall as he was.

  “Where on earth did you find a gun?” Tori wanted to know.

  “Over the fireplace in the room with all the books.” Thankfully, he made it to the last step without shooting a hole in the ceiling.

  “It isn’t loaded.” Mrs. Saberton swung her heavy sable cloak around her shoulders and lifted
the hood over her auburn hair. “But I’m afraid you won’t be coming with us, Hickory.”

  “I promised the colonel I’d take care of you.” With a dejected slump, he sank to the bottom step.

  Abby went to him. “I need you to stay here and protect the rest of our family. Only for a day or two. I promise to come right back.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He was clearly unhappy with the plan but too courteous to argue with her. “But will you tell that Yankee something for me?”

  Abby smiled. “Of course. Whatever you’d like.”

  He beckoned her to come down closer so he could whisper in her ear.

  Abby had to laugh at his audacious message.

  “I’ll tell him.” She gave him a hug.

  “We need to get going, Abby. We don’t want to miss the train.” Mrs. Saberton held out a dark blue cloak for her with a matching muff.

  Unified by a common purpose, the two ladies from opposite sides of the Mason-Dixon, stepped into the cold night, determined to save their home.

  “It isn’t what we say or think that defines us, but what we do.”

  ~ Jane Austen

  Twenty-Nine

  The Yankee flag flew high over Georgia’s capital building.

  Ian laid flush on a craggy bluff overlooking Milledgeville. He and a few of his best men had been sent to monitor Sherman’s movements when it had become apparent that Macon would not be Sherman’s next conquest.

  Smoke rose amid the cold fog as the penitentiary burned on one side of town while hungry flames lapped at the three-storied Lunatic Asylum on the other.

  Lifting his field glasses, Ian watched with restraint as Sherman’s men set out to destroy the capitol city in a fit of drunken revelry.

  The main body of Federal forces had ridden in yesterday parading through the streets like a mob of lawless raiders. Bands played while Federal troops rummaged freely, destroying what they could and setting everything else ablaze.

  Two days ago, Wheeler and the home militia had taken a hard loss at Griswoldville. The sheer number of troops that had been set against them made it a lopsided fight from the beginning.

  Governor Brown had released the state prisoners last Sunday and sent Farris into battle at Griswoldville. Nearly twelve hundred Confederates had been left dead on that frosted field. Ian couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been one of them.

  Yesterday, Sherman had finally ridden into Milledgeville with General Slocum and a full Corps behind them. Slocum took over the Milledgeville Hotel, and Sherman took up residence in the Governor’s mansion.

  All night, Ian and his men witnessed the Yankees demolish Capital Square, pitching furniture and paintings of State dignitaries from every window. Volumes of ledgers and legislator records lay in carpets of smeared parchment in the muddy streets. Thousands of Confederate dollars blew in the frigid breeze, catching on the barren limbs of sycamore trees.

  “Ain’t no soldiering going on down there.” Fitz sat up with forearms resting on his knees. “Them bluelegs ain’t no better than a pack of feral hogs.” He tossed a pebble down at a young Federal lookout below who flicked it off without looking up at the ten men in gray occupying the ridge above him.

  “Mind your post, Lieutenant.” Ian snapped just above a whisper. “As soon as they make a move in any direction, we’ll head back to Macon. In the meantime, eat some hardtack. Keep your hands and mouth quiet.”

  His mood was as icy as the bitter wind.

  Somewhere along the way, the Federals had decided to discard every acceptable rule of warfare and strike out against civilian homes full of helpless women and children. This conflict was between men who’d agreed to fight it out on a field of battle. Not carte blanche for an authorized army of tyrants to do as they please, steal whatever they want, and desecrate at will.

  What he’d witnessed today could only be described as anarchy. Harassment and lawlessness of the highest order. While the generals were conspicuously absent, seemingly uncaring, their men ravaged everything they could put their hands to.

  Including St. Stephen’s Cathedral.

  Outrage gripped Ian. Followed by intense sorrow when pews and statues from the sacred place of worship were carelessly tossed into the street. Fuel for a raging bonfire set in the square.

  Somewhere he’d read Sherman was quoted as saying, “War is hell.”

  Today he’d proven his own words.

  He and his army were representing the devil himself.

  The overnight train had been blessedly empty. Only one other couple had boarded with Abby and Dottie at Savannah. When the couple changed trains at Millan, a tattered pack of ex-convicts from a prison in Athens came aboard. Quiet and subdued, they were on their way to join the State Militia in Macon in exchange for their freedom. Thankfully, they kept to themselves.

  By the time they reached McIntyre at four in the morning, word met them that the next stop at Gordon was overrun with Yankees. A weary troop of Confederates waiting to take the train to Macon decided it best to make the journey by foot to avoid conflict. Most of the men already on board got off to join them.

  Dottie gave them the bit of food she’d packed in a basket. When she saw some of the soldiers wore no shoes in the bitter cold, she sent them off with scraps of her sable cloak wrapped around their feet.

  Abby was immensely humbled.

  She’d not seen that level of compassion since she was a child. Her own mother would have done the same for the Cayuse Indians.

  Between McIntyre and Gordon, they had the passenger car to themselves. As the night progressed, the two women settled into comfortable conversation. Ian’s mother was well-versed and had an innate wisdom that Abby admired.

  Time had come for Abby to confide everything to Ian’s mother.

  A defining moment of truth, which would either solidify their bond or sever it forever.

  By six o’clock AM, the train was commandeered by Federal soldiers at the Gordon depot, twenty miles out of Milledgeville.

  Impervious to the threat of danger, Abby and Dottie devised a plan. Together, they would find and confront the man who held Georgia’s fate in his despotic hands. Between the two of them, they agreed not to budge one iota until they had his consent to spare her oldest city.

  An Alabama cavalry captain intervened on their behalf when a skirmish broke out amongst them for claim of the Saberton horses and saddles.

  Abby announced they were on their way to speak to General Sherman and needed their horses to get there. When asked if the general was expecting them, Dottie replied that the general was in no position to be turning away callers, considering he was the uninvited guest to this party.

  Whether from curiosity to see what the women were up to, or simply a gallant gesture from a Southern gentleman, the captain stepped forward and insisted on escorting them the rest of the way to Milledgeville himself. Being a Southerner who had stayed loyal to the Union, he wasn’t in friendly territory.

  He recruited his aide, a snide young corporal who clearly had no use for rebels, to accompany them to the confederate capitol.

  Abby’s allegiance would forever lay with the Union cause. Just the same, she wouldn’t waste a breath defending herself to the brash Yankee soldiers flocking around their rail car. A good majority of them were restless and agitated like caged animals, waiting to pounce on anything worth taking. These men had been given permission to wreak havoc on enemy homeland.

  The intensity of their disdain for common decency made Abby’s skin crawl.

  With the captain’s help, they were able to retrieve their horses. An hour later, the four topped a vast tree-lined hill where a view of Milledgeville appeared beyond the Oconee in the valley below.

  Pulling up on the reins of her chestnut mare, Abby took in the sight.

  A bridge over the river, stood half charred and smoldering. A long procession of conveyances snaked along the river road where the city’s inhabitants waited for a single ferry to escape hundreds of blue coats that occupied their stree
ts.

  What looked like thousands more Union soldiers were camped on the outskirts surrounded by hundreds of covered wagons. If she were guessing, she’d say some were filled with provisions, the rest were for bring back their spoils.

  “I can honestly say I’ve never seen anything so disheartening.” Dottie Saberton rode up beside her. “Those poor people.”

  “Best to keep moving, ladies.” The captain urged.

  “The line for the ferry will take some time.” Abby pointed out.

  “Those folks are not going into town.” The other soldier drew ahead of them. “They’re trying to get out.” He sounded a bit too pleased about it, almost smug.

  The two women shared a glance before pressing forward.

  As predicted, they were the only ones waiting for a west-bound ferry.

  Ahead of them lay a misty field where fortifications appeared long abandoned. Cold cannons sat useless in the fog.

  Along the road, they passed people of every color wandering in a lost daze. Some with babies on their hips, some assisting the elderly and infirmed, all seemed to be traveling with nothing but the clothes on their backs.

  Nearing the city, Abby grew even more determined to do all she could to prevent this same kind of devastation from happening in Savannah. There was certainly no guarantee the general would consider her proposal, but she was not leaving here without at least having him hear her out.

  Smoke burned their eyes and throats as they neared the capital square. Groups of soldiers huddled around fires built in the streets. Some lay sprawled out with empty bottles still in their hands.

  Abby accepted the captain’s assistance to the ground in front of wide steps leading up to the palatial mansion. The velvet hood pooled around her shoulders. Lifting it carefully, she covered her elegantly coiffed hair.

  Dottie came around her horse and handed the reins to the captain. “I expect our horses to be waiting for us here when we get back.”

  The soldier offered no smile just a matter-of-fact nod.

  The Alabama captain held up his hand at the foot of the mansion’s wide porch steps. “Wait here, ma’am. I’ll speak to the general and ask if he’ll see you.”