Field of Redemption Read online

  Sherman walked beside her with his hands behind his back. “Indeed?”

  “I believe his exact words were, ‘you may tromp over every inch of Georgia’s red dirt, but you ain’t never gonna hear her howl.’”

  “Amen.” Dottie agreed with a shake of her head.

  In spite of himself, General William Tecumseh Sherman actually chuckled. Probably more at her gall for actually relaying it than at Hickory’s daring declaration.

  As Abby reached for the handle of the glossy pocket door, a loud shot split the air, echoing through the empty room.

  Her hand drew back as if she had triggered it.

  Sherman threw open the doors as bluecoats poured through the entrance. Weapons drawn, they swooped upon the staircase like a volt of vultures after a kill.

  “Stand aside!” Their commander gave the order and one by one they backed down the stairs.

  Without thought, Abby took Dottie’s hand as they waited to witness the fate of a hapless intruder who’d dared to invade the Yankee headquarters.

  As the last soldier retreated, Abby drew a sharp breath when Ian’s face came into view.

  With the back of his hand, he swiped at a trickle of blood beside his mouth.

  “Ian!” Dottie cried out.

  Abby was rooted, unable to move.

  Her heart sank to her feet at the dark accusation in his gaze.

  “T’was grace that brought us safe thus far, and grace will lead us home.”

  ~ John Newton, Amazing Grace

  Thirty-One

  “Identify yourself, soldier.” The Yankee general strode to the middle of the foyer where his men were spoiling for a fight behind him.

  Ian’s attention was transfixed on the woman standing at the bottom of the stairs.

  Abby never looked more beautiful.

  With all he’d just heard, however, she felt like a beautiful stranger. Ian couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever really known her at all.

  “Colonel Ian Saberton.” His voice was low as he tore his eyes from Abby to provide the expected information. “Georgia 4th Cavalry, Confederate States Army.”

  Curses arose among the gathering of soldiers.

  “When I returned, I came upon him lurking on the stairs, Sir.” An arrogant captain, apparently Sherman’s Aide-de-camp, stepped forward to give his account. “It was my shot you heard. Sadly, my mark was off by mere inches.”

  “You’d best be thankful you’re a poor shot.” Dottie Saberton joined Abby, glaring at the young captain.

  “State your business, Colonel.” Sherman ignored the snickering of his men.

  “While observing your troops’ movement into Milledgeville, I identified my mother and Miss McFadden entering this residence. Naturally, I followed.”

  The truth would either set him free or have him hanged.

  “This is the man I plan to marry.” Abby stated, lifting her chin. The readable plea in her eyes begged for understanding.

  He wanted to go to her and demand to know why she’d chosen not to mention her ties to the slayer, William Sherman.

  Instead, he stayed where he was. Any movement toward the commander could be misconstrued as aggression. With this many Yankees itching to get at him, he’d be shot in an instant.

  “Where is your regiment?” The general issued another gruff inquiry.

  “Not here.” Ian’s answer was deliberately vague. Let him do his own scouting and figure it out himself.

  “The way he’s dressed I’d say he’s special units, Sir.” The captain jumped in, evidently needing to sound important. “Perhaps an enemy spy.”

  “He’s no more a spy than I am.” Abby rolled her eyes. “General Farris tried to have me executed, but Ian risked everything to defend me.”

  Sherman turned to her, frowning. “You failed to mention that when expounding on the good and evil of the rebels.”

  There was plenty she had failed to mention.

  “Back to your posts!” Sherman barked the order and men scattered. “You as well, Captain.”

  The upstart gave Abby a toothy grin and sauntered back down the hall eating an apple.

  “Colonel, you may come down here.”

  His summons irked Ian.

  But since he was in no position to defy the Yankee command, he grabbed his gun from where it had fallen on the step behind him and made his way down the staircase.

  “General Sherman, meet my son, Colonel Ian Saberton.” Dottie pulled on her gloves. “Ian, this man intends to take Savannah.”

  Ian’s head snapped up.

  “And we will not oppose him.” Abby tied the ribbon of her cloak under her chin. “Be sure to tell your commanders.”

  They’d both gone mad.

  As tempting as it was to stay and engage in war talk with a power-hungry Yankee and two delusional females, Ian was more concerned about putting distance between himself and this hotbed of Yankees.

  Sherman had every right to have him arrested and held a prisoner. That would not end well. He had no intention of leaving Abby and his mother to their own defenses.

  “Colonel, against all practical wisdom, I must rely on you to see these most exceptional ladies back to your camp.” Sherman gave Abby a fond embrace, then turned to Dottie and took her hand.

  Ian wasn’t sure he’d heard right. Had Sherman just invited him to walk out unscathed?

  Glancing over at the Federal commander, Ian didn’t care for the way he was devouring his mother with his eyes.

  “We’d best be going then.” Offering Abby his arm, Ian took his mother’s elbow and directed her away from Sherman.

  He would take them to Macon. General Hawthorne could arrange an escort to see them back to Brechenridge. “My horse is around back.”

  The women said their goodbyes while Ian went before them to clear a path through the hundreds of troops gathered to have a look at them.

  Ian helped Abby up into her saddle. She was a vision in green. Her expressive eyes caught the winter sun and took on a glow that lit her whole face.

  He ached to take her into his arms. But he refused. He wanted answers first. There could never be secrets between them. Abby had to know he’d never judge her based on anything other than who she was. It didn’t matter who her uncle was.

  Another Federal officer helped Dottie mount, and she thanked him by name as if they were old friends.

  Would he ever know all there was to know about women? Just when he thought he had them figured out, they did an about face and he was scrambling to make sense of them again.

  What he needed was to have a good talk with Nicholas.

  Surely after four years of marriage, his brother had Tori all figured out by now.

  Abby was exhausted.

  With a frigid northeastern wind at her back, she huddled down into a satin-trimmed quilt her uncle had placed over her shoulders for the journey back to Macon. Fairly certain the beautiful throw belonged to Georgia’s governor, Abby made a mental note to have Cora see that it was returned.

  Her hands felt like ice beneath her lambskin gloves.

  A glance over at Dottie, similarly nestled under a pink chenille bedspread, suggested the older woman might have fallen asleep in her saddle. Even with her eyes closed, she was still one of the most stunning women Abby had ever known.

  Not so much in looks alone, though she was undeniably attractive, the confident manner in which she conducted herself had everyone she met eating from her hand. Even a hardened Yankee with a no-mercy reputation.

  Dottie had tempered her uncle without an ounce of trepidation. What a fine man Samuel Saberton must have been to have won her heart.

  Abby lifted her head to see past the men surrounding her to where Ian led his unit up front. Her heart grew weary waiting for him to fall back to talk to her. As it was, he’d barely spoken a word.

  So many times she’d wanted to tell him about her mother’s family.

  She had hesitated at first, afraid he might use the information against her. But
by the time she was certain he would never do anything to harm her, her uncle had declared an overt attack on Ian’s home state. She’d thought to meet with General Sherman and dissuade him from taking the Saberton family home, considering they were to be her own family someday.

  Just as she had told Dottie, she’d fully intended to tell Ian about her idea but not until after she was certain the daring plan would succeed.

  Never in a million years had she thought he would intercept their meeting right in the middle of enemy territory. He could have been killed.

  Abby pulled the blanket closer around her as the thought chilled her to her toes.

  They had much to discuss. Apparently, however, Ian was not prepared to have that discussion in front of his men. Abby would give him that. What they needed to say was better said between the two of them. Alone.

  Two hours after leaving Milledgeville, they arrived on the outskirts of Macon. From what she could tell, most of the Union troops had already moved south, bypassing Macon altogether.

  Turning onto First Street, Abby immediately noticed the city was inundated with refugees. Easily twice as many as when she’d left. Tents occupied every available space and supply wagons rattled along with children in worn coats running in the street beside them.

  A large plat of tents housed cots teeming with wounded soldiers. The hospitals must have exceeded capacity, forcing incoming patients to be treated on the cold street.

  Ian brought the unit to a halt in front of Harbor House.

  The yard was brimming with new faces. She’d never seen so many soldiers here. Some in tattered uniform and some in plain working clothes. All cold and waiting for the lady with a coffee pot to come by and fill their cups.

  At Ian’s dismissal, his men were free to join them.

  Fitz helped Dottie dismount while Ian reached up for Abby. She yielded to his strong hands, sliding from her saddle.

  “Where have all these men come from?” She kept hold of Ian’s arms simply because she missed the feel of them around her.

  “The State Militia was called in. Two more divisions were brought over from Alabama.” His answer was quiet. He didn’t seem in a hurry to release her and she warmed under his passionate gaze. “I missed you.”

  Suddenly talking was the last thing on her mind. Standing on her toes, she took the lapels of his coat and pulled his lips to hers, letting her heart speak for itself. A familiar draw pulled them closer, and Ian tightened his hold.

  Oh, how she’d missed him, too. This man who had ridden into Macon one day and brought clarity where she’d only known turmoil. Offering love after a lifetime of loneliness.

  Abby slowly brought both heels back to the ground.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Ian laid an arm across his saddle behind her.

  “I couldn’t risk losing you.” She whispered as raw and honestly as she knew how. “I tend to lose the ones I love.” She tried to look away, but Ian caught her chin with his finger. Her clouded gaze lifted to his. “They never come back.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” His promise was as strong and sure as his embrace. “You’ll just have to trust me on that.”

  She caressed his forearm, unable to speak past the lump in her throat.

  When she hesitated, she saw the muscle work in his jaw. “Abby, whatever comes our way, we face it together. No secrets. No running. Trust me. As long as I’m able, I’m never going to leave you.”

  Abby believed him. This man who held her heart would never willingly walk away.

  She answered from her heart. “I love you, Colonel Saberton.”

  “And I love you, Angel.” His kiss proved the truth in his words.

  “Rev, the boys are ready to hit camp.” Fitz came around the horse and stopped short. “Pardon me, Ma’am. I didn’t see you two was tryin’ to warm up.”

  “I’d say they’ve had enough warming up for now.” Without her covering, Dottie rubbed her arms against the cold. “Where can we find some coffee for ourselves?”

  “Oh, Abby! Colonel!” Every head turned to watch Cora Dobbs and her usual flock of ladies patter down the porch steps of Harbor House.

  Ian dropped his arm to allow Abby to go over and greet them.

  “Mrs. Saberton, I presume?” Cora smoothed the work wrinkles from her brown taffeta gown and ran a hand over her upswept hair. “You must agree to stay with the mayor and myself while you visit.”

  “Thank you.” Dottie cut her gaze to Abby. “Mrs. …?”

  “Mrs. Dottie Saberton, meet Mrs. Walter Dobbs.” Abby supplied. “Mayor’s wife.”

  “Ah.” Dottie flashed a gracious smile, but Cora was jolted from behind when a fight broke out between several of the men in the yard.

  Abby pulled Dottie out of harm’s way as women all around them, picked up their skirts and ran for cover.

  Soldiers formed a circle, picking sides and egging on the offenders. Ian and Lieutenant Fitz immediately sprang into action, entering the fray to break up the brawl.

  Too many weapons in the hands of soldiers eager for a fight could easily escalate into an uncontrolled mob.

  “I say we grab a hose pump and start spraying ’em down.” Cora was ever full of ideas.

  “Count me in.” Dottie agreed.

  Abby shook dust from her borrowed skirt. She knew a thing or two about breaking up fights between men acting like a bunch of unruly boys. Many a wounded soldier taunted others into a scuffle, to alleviate boredom and frustration, she supposed. Once separated, a sympathetic ear was usually all they needed. Someone to assure them they were not forgotten and promise all wounds would eventually heal.

  A body of onlookers gathered in a tight circle, making it impossible to push through. Abby tried another way. Over the long porch and down the steps into the side yard where she could get a better view.

  Stepping from the last wooden step next to a fragrant magnolia tree, her breath left her as she was slammed backward into rough brick of the chimney hidden behind the bushes.

  Before she could make sense of her predicament, she came up against the barrel of a rifle aimed straight at her chest.

  Squelching a scream, Abby raised her hands to show she wasn’t armed. If Macon was under Union attack, she would insist on being taken to the commanding general at once.

  A demented laugh caused her to look down the long iron barrel to the lunatic who held it.

  Farris.

  “She was powerful, not because she wasn’t scared

  but because she went on so strongly despite the fear.”

  ~ Atticus

  Thirty-Two

  The war stripped many of their sanity.

  Those, like Farris, who used innocent suffering for their personal gain were the most deranged of all.

  Abby took a step back.

  “You should’ve left well enough alone, Miss McFadden. The Dove’s Nest was mine.” Farris jabbed the muzzle of his rifle into her shoulder. “You owe me much. And you will pay.” His guttural threat was hard to decipher. Swaying, he reeked of whiskey. “I was locked away to rot because of your lies.”

  He gave another sharp prod that that sent a wave of pain down her arm. Visible vapors of his soured breath assailed her in the frigid air. A gag gripped her throat.

  Easing out from under the shade of high bushes, she hoped to be seen by someone who could bring help. Bumping into the splintering side of a cellar door, her hopes were dashed.

  “Sallie turned the rest of them against me. Holding out behind my back. Keeping my money. And you were behind it all.”

  He poked harder into her bruised flesh.

  “Abby!” From the corner of her eye, she watched Dottie come around the side of the house. Her heavy skirts whirled at her feet as she made an abrupt stop.

  “Stay where you are.” Farris demanded. The hard glint in his eyes remained focused on Abby. “This time I will take care of you myself. No one will interfere.”

  Abby could see Dottie whisper something quietly to a man standin
g beside her. In her sideview, Abby watched the man slip away into the jumbled mass of soldiers. An inkling of hope coursed through her. Surely he’d been sent to fetch Ian. She closed her eyes, listening hard for the sound of Ian’s voice above the rumble of commotion.

  “… both dead.” Farris muttered.

  Opening her eyes, she saw him staring at her, but Abby had the feeling his mind had wandered off again.

  “Yankees charging up the hill. Slaughtered boys like worthless pigs.”

  Tamping down panic that threatened to choke her, she watched his finger brush the trigger of his weapon.

  She had to stay calm.

  This was not her first time to elude Farris. She’d dodged his threats and nauseating advances for two years. As long as she kept her head, she could evade this demented rant as well.

  Over Farris’ shoulder, Abby could see a crowd gathering. Dottie had worked her way around to alert a couple of soldiers who stood with unholstered pistols. Even if they were to try and take Farris from behind, he would no doubt get a shot off first.

  Abby had no choice but make an attempt to run.

  Twisting her shoulder, she fiercely pushed the barrel of his gun toward the ground to escape a direct hit. The sudden action threw Farris off balance. His rifle discharged flatly into the dirt.

  Gathering her skirts, she dashed around back of Harbor House, bent low behind a line of holly bushes. A large carriage house and the summer kitchen stood separated by a cobblestone path. Praying Farris would be apprehended, she focused on remaining out of sight until she could be certain.

  First, she veered toward the carriage house. The tall doors were closed, and to her utter dismay, tightly locked. A quick glance over her shoulder told her Farris was not in pursuit.

  Frantically, she pulled at the only side door to the building.

  Locked.

  Across the path, she spotted one of the women exiting a door to the larder. Her arms were laden with food as she headed back out toward the kitchen, but she’d left a spare piece of wood to prevent the door from closing all the way.