The Quaker and the Rebel (40 page)

A smile spread across the marshal’s face. “Why would you do that, Miss Harrison? Why would you warn the man responsible for relieving your Federal Treasury of a fortune?”

How could she tell him she’d fallen in love with a Rebel Ranger after her fiancé’s death? It sounded scandalous even to her, and this pitiless soldier probably wouldn’t believe her anyway. Focusing her gaze on a stain on the wall, Emily sat mute and motionless.

The marshal kicked the leg of his chair, sending it flying.

“Lieutenant Loomis.” A man’s voice from across the room addressed the marshal. “Would you please bring Miss Harrison another cup of tea? We wouldn’t want word of our inhospitality getting back to Washington.”

Emily hadn’t paid much attention to the officers sitting against the wall during her questioning. Now one of them, apparently the provost marshal’s superior officer, approached the table, walking with a decided limp. She realized that part of his lower leg was missing.

“Miss Harrison, I am Captain Reynard, commander of this prison.” He righted the chair upset by the lieutenant but did not sit down.

“Captain Reynard.” She bobbed her head politely.

“I don’t think you understand the serious crimes you have been charged with.” Captain Reynard leaned some of his weight on the chair’s back. “You have been charged with treason against the Confederate States of America. Your punishment if convicted will be death by hanging. Frankly, based on the evidence, I don’t see any other possible outcome. Your sentence will be at the discretion of the judge advocate, advisor to the tribunal. It will be entirely out of our hands. Military tribunals don’t look kindly on spies, not even females of tender age.” There was no softness in the captain’s threats. “If you are protecting others out of some misguided loyalty, I suggest you tell us what you know and not delay. Perhaps the judge advocate will be merciful if you were duped by Yankee officers who took advantage of you.”

There was no mistaking the evil glint in his eye. This soft-spoken, wounded soldier frightened Emily more than the blustery lieutenant. “No, sir. I’m not protecting anyone. I have nothing more to say.”

Captain Reynard swept his hair back from his forehead, revealing a nasty scar. “Very well, Miss Harrison, you have had your chance. We shall set your case for trial and hope your accommodations here will be satisfactory until then.” There was a ripple of laughter from the soldiers along the wall as the captain limped toward the door.

Lieutenant Loomis offered one last glare as he followed his superior from the room. She was probably the first female spy he’d ever met. Emily would have plenty of opportunity to consider his anger and resentment once the matron returned her to her cell. She had little else to occupy her time.

Alexander’s shoulder and back muscles ached, yet he wouldn’t rest until he had some answers. Since Emily had been taken to Castle Thunder, there was no reason to remain at Aunt Harriet’s. No one in his family had any information. Hour after hour he waited for an audience with Secretary Seddon at the War Department in Richmond. Unfortunately the Secretary of War was at the Petersburg camp and no one seemed to know when he would return. After two days Alexander decided to ride to Petersburg and track down the man who had ordered Emily’s arrest. Patience never had been his virtue.

With his father’s directions, he found the stable where the remaining Hunt horses had been boarded. What he hadn’t expected to find was his childhood friend and trusted valet. “Great Scot, William! It’s good to see you.” Alexander slipped from the saddle and tied Phantom’s reins to the post.

William jumped from the sudden interruption of his chores. “Not as glad as I am to see you, sir. I thought for sure you were on your way to a Yankee prison. With winter comin’ on, no less.”

The two men embraced clumsily in the dusty stable. “Don’t you worry—I can outride a Yankee even on a mule.” He gazed around the stalls marked with his family’s insignia. “You managed to get our best mares across Federal lines? I’m impressed. If I wasn’t so broke, I’d
recommend you for a raise in pay.” He clamped his arm around William’s neck. “I feared all our stock had fallen into Union hands.”

William tucked the brush into his back pocket. “Let’s write down that part about a raise, sir. I’ll hold you to that when the war is over.”

“Have I ever gone back on my word, William?” Alexander thumped his chest with his fist.

“No, I can’t say that you have, and we’ve known each other a long time.” William looked his employer in the eye. “Have you been to your aunt’s house yet on Franklin Street? Have you seen your family and Miss Harrison?”

Alexander’s joy over finding William safe faded with the mention of Emily’s name. He began to pace between stalls like a caged animal. “Yes, I saw her. We barely had time for our first argument when she was arrested by the home guard. Arrested for treason against the Confederate States, of all the ridiculous ideas.” He kicked an empty water bucket across the floor. “I rode to the War Department to speak to Secretary Seddon, but I never saw him. Emily needs to explain how she found out about the Middleburg raid and then I can clear up this nonsense.”

William averted his eyes toward a floor littered with spilled grain and dirty straw.

“Do you know something about this?” Alexander stopped pacing as the hairs on the back of his neck rose.

“First, let me ask you something, sir. Was Miss Amite at your aunt’s when the guards came? Did they arrest her, too?”

“Miss Amite?”

“Miss Lila Amite. She and her parents work for Dr. and Mrs. Bennington. Wherever they go, Lila goes too.” The big man scuffed his boot in the dust.

“I know who she is,” Alexander snapped, his patience wearing thin. “What I don’t understand is why you’re asking about her.”

“Well, Miss Amite has agreed to be my wife.”

Alexander stared at him, trying to tamp down his temper. “You’re not making a lick of sense, man. I’m happy Lila agreed to marry you, but what does this have to do with Miss Harrison?”

“I should have told you a long time ago, sir. I’m ashamed I didn’t.” William yanked his felt hat from his head.

Rapidly losing control, Alexander grabbed his friend by the lapels of his coat. “Out with it, all of it. What do you know about Miss Harrison that I don’t?”

“I know what she was doing the day you went to Middleburg. It was the same thing she was doing in Berryville and a good while before that. She was helping slaves find the way to Freedom Road. And you need to know Lila has helped her ever since they came from that island in the Ohio River.”

Alexander released his grip on William’s coat, as the puzzle pieces clicked together in his mind. “Whose slaves—my father’s?”

“A couple were yours, but mainly they were runaways from the Carolinas and Georgia.” William looked as if he would rather crawl into a hole than admit his part in the deception. Alexander had trusted him without reservation.

Suddenly, the barn doors swung wide, breaking the uncomfortable standoff between friends. Dr. Bennington rode inside on a lathered mount. “Oh, thank goodness, nephew. You’re alive and well. It’s been so long. Your parents didn’t know where you had gone after leaving Harriett’s house.”

Alexander grabbed the bridle to steady Porter’s horse. “Sorry I didn’t wait until you got home, Uncle Porter, but I had to see about the ridiculous charges against Emily.”

Dr. Bennington reached for his hand as he dismounted, his troubled expression deepening. “Then it’s true. She’s been arrested. Tell me what I can do to help.”

“The War Department is in chaos with Petersburg under siege. I’m on my way down there now. The best thing you can do is pray.”

S
PRING
1864

When Emily awoke at dawn in the damp clamminess of her cell, her nose started to run, her scalp itched, and she sorely needed a bath. The previous evening’s meal had consisted of cold rancid bacon that turned her stomach and a shriveled apple. When she unwittingly wrinkled her nose at the meat’s putrid smell, the matron had chastised her.

“The fare is not to your liking, miss? Perhaps you can tell your friend Ulysses S. Grant to lift the blockade of the port so we can all get something decent to eat.” The woman set the plate down with a clatter and scowled as she left the cell.

“Sorry, I’ve never met the gentleman.” Emily replied to the closed door. Today the matron delivered mealy corn bread and weak tea. But at least she returned a short time later with a basin of warm water, a sliver of soap, and a threadbare towel. She also brought something fresh for Emily to wear. Falling in a straight line from her shoulders to ankles, the garment looked as though it was fashioned from feed sacks. Another woman could have fit between the side seams with her, but at least the dress was clean and free of vermin. Months of confinement had whittled her far from ample figure to mere skin and bones.

Her mood initially improved after her sponge bath until she heard the cacophony in the prison yard. Standing on a chair to reach the dirty window, she watched three men sawing and hammering industriously. In the light drizzle, they lifted beam after beam of fresh pine timbers into place. Although their project was far from complete, Emily realized they were constructing a gallows.
Is it for me? Or do they have another incarcerated spy responsible for the exposure of the Confederate’s greatest asset besides the loss of many ranger lives?

The enormity of her actions sank in with each blow of the hammer. Stepping down from the chair, Emily buried her face in her hands and cried for the first time since her arrest. She sobbed not for her dismal future, but for the way she treated people who had trusted and loved her. How Dr. and Mrs. Bennington must despise her. Armed with her Quaker ideals, she had moved to Virginia with the intent to dupe and
defraud. Her motivations may have been noble, but these Southerners considered her a garden-variety thief and their enemy.

And what about Alexander? The torrent of lies she told ran through her mind like a fast-moving river. She should never have let herself fall in love. Perhaps it was good she would hang for her crimes because then she would never see the hatred and revulsion in his eyes. She should have told him the truth long ago—about her abolitionist work and the fact that she loved him. Now it was too late. All the love in the world heaped onto a platter wouldn’t convince him her heart was true. Alexander would be her only regret on her way to the gallows. And she had no one to blame but herself.

Emily had little time to pine over past mistakes. Minutes after the matron carried away the basin and wet towel soldiers arrived at her cell door. They bound her wrists with a cord and led her through the prison warehouse like a lamb ready for slaughter. A few prisoners jeered, a few whispered words of encouragement, and one elderly man bowed his head and wept. The matron wrapped a thin shawl around her shoulders as they stepped outdoors into a biting wind. A burly soldier pushed her up the steps into a carriage.

“Where am I going?” she asked the matron timidly, peering around the shabby interior. A private joined them inside the dark conveyance. He stared out the window as though even one glance from her treacherous eyes could trap him spellbound.

“To your trial before a military tribunal.” The woman dabbed her nose with a sodden handkerchief. “Take a gander at the lovely city of Richmond. It may be the last time you lay eyes on it.”

Emily complied dutifully as they rolled past deplorably crowded streets and alleyways. Refugees seemed to have encamped in every doorway or bridge underpass. The sight of so many dirty, sunken faces broke Emily’s heart, even though her current situation was no less grim. Icy needles of wind blew through cracks in the carriage, causing her teeth to chatter.