“Captain Prescott?”
Emmett looked up from his supper and swiveled around on the bench, surprised to see two guards standing behind him. After the morning’s incident with Lieutenant Devon, he’d been so deep in thought he’d not even noticed their approach. Not a good policy for a man whose life was under threat, he thought.
“You’re to accompany us, sir,” one of the guards said.
A warning signal went off in Emmett’s mind. He looked around the room, suddenly alert. This scenario felt contrived, as if Lieutenant Fox was somehow behind it. “What is this about, gentlemen? Can’t you see I’m in the middle of supper?”
“Our orders are to bring you immediately to Major Tidwell’s office, sir.” The guards didn’t act at all suspiciously—their manner was that of regular soldiers doing their duty—but that did not mean Lieutenant Fox hadn’t sent them.
Emmett rose warily and followed them from the mess hall with his nerves on alert. They crossed the prison yard and entered a building of offices. He followed them through a passageway then one of the guards opened a door and stood aside, indicating for Emmett to enter.
When he stepped through the doorway, his gaze locked with Lieutenant Fox’s. The man’s expression was even more smug than usual and held a look that Emmett could only describe as triumphant. Emmett’s skin tightened against the sense of foreboding.
He looked away, glancing at the others in the room. Beside the empty desk stood the two cronies who always lurked near the lieutenant, the young night guard from the prison barracks, two soldiers, and upon a chair in the corner . . . Abigail.
Her face was pale, her cheeks were wet with tears, and her shoulders slumped forward as she visibly shook, arms wrapped around her middle.
When his eyes met hers, he started, and his worry turned to panic. “Somebody tell me the meaning of this.” He barked out the order, even though as a prisoner, he had no right to demand information. His eyes moved over her quickly, assessing. She was terrified. Anger swelled up inside him, and it took all of his will not to rush toward her. Had she been hurt? When he found out what had happened, Lieutenant Fox would wish he’d never heard of Emmett Prescott or the United States Army.
He pulled his gaze from Abigail, knowing his reaction at seeing her must have been obvious to all in the room. “Lieutenant, I demand you tell me what is going on.” He ground out the words through clenched teeth, surprised that in his anger he’d managed to speak them without cursing or yelling.
Lieutenant Fox gave no verbal reply, but the smirk twisted his mouth, and his eyes sparkled with a glee that made Emmett’s hands tighten into fists. The other soldiers stepped forward. Apparently, Emmett hadn’t concealed his desire to strike his enemy as well as he’d thought.
Footsteps sounded in the passageway, the sound of boot heels clicking together indicated the guards outside the door snapped to attention, and a moment later, the door was thrown open.
Major Tidwell stormed through. His eyes swept the room, his expression becoming more confused, but no less angry as he looked from person to person. When he saw Abigail, his eyes widened in alarm, and he strode toward her, kneeling beside her chair. He placed a hand on her arm and leaned closer, whispering something the others could not hear.
She shook her head and covered her mouth to stifle a sob.
The major’s expression darkened, and he stood, facing the others, his face like a thundercloud. “Explain this at once.”
Lieutenant Fox stepped forward. “Sir, I have uncovered a conspiracy.”
Major Tidwell’s eyes narrowed, and he leveled his gaze at the lieutenant. Emmett could see true loathing in the glance. “Lieutenant Fox, you had better provide a very convincing reason for dragging me from my supper. My sister is ill, and I do not appreciate—”
“Your sister is guilty of treason.” Lieutenant Fox’s voice hung in the silence after he’d spoken.
Emmett’s mouth went dry.
The major looked more furious than Emmett would have thought possible. Not only had a subordinate just interrupted him but he’d accused his sister of a crime punishable by death. He took a step toward the lieutenant and flung out his arm, pointing toward the door. “Get out.”
Lieutenant Fox’s pleased smirk did not waver. “I have proof.” He pulled a piece of paper from inside his coat and unfolded it with a dramatic flourish.
“Impossible,” Major Tidwell said. He snatched the paper from the lieutenant and glanced at it. Then he stepped around the desk and took a pair of spectacles from a drawer and put them on. As he read, the major’s face paled. His eyes moved to the top of the page and he read again then again.
Finally, he lowered the page. “Abigail, is this . . . this cannot be true.” The sound was no longer the booming voice of a man used to shouting orders, but that of a worried brother. And at that moment, nothing could have frightened Emmett more.
Abigail nodded, and another sob escaped.
No. Emmett’s stomach turned to lead. He could think of only one reason Abigail would take such a risk. What had she done?
“The note was concealed in a bag of pebbles,” Lieutenant Fox said, tossing Emmett’s pouch onto the major’s desk. It landed with a thud, and Emmett heard the familiar sound of the rocks inside shifting. The sight of his pouch—the pouch he’d given to Abigail months earlier—made the entire situation seem all the more real.
When Emmett looked back at the major, he saw the man’s eyes boring into him. His gaze was dark and the muscles in his face tight as he pulled off the spectacles. “What is the nature of your relationship with my sister, Captain?” Major Tidwell snapped each word precisely, as if he were fighting to keep himself under control.
“She is my friend, sir.”
Lieutenant Fox snorted, and his companions snickered.
“That is enough.” Major Tidwell’s voice was a whip, silencing the room immediately. He held Emmett’s gaze. “How do you know Abigail, Captain Prescott? And I warn you, do not lie to me, sir.”
Emmett could see barely restrained fury in the man’s gaze. Surely all this would be sorted out once the major knew the entire story. Nothing inappropriate had happened between the two of them, and at this point, he wouldn’t be revealing any classified information that would give away his regiment’s position. There was nothing to be lost by telling the truth, and he hoped it would help instead of hurt Abigail’s case. He nodded and took a breath. “Two months ago, I was leading a small company on a reconnaissance mission in the area around Fort Malden, when we were ambushed. I was gravely injured with an arrow in my side and, when Miss Tidwell came upon me, nearly dead. She tended my wounds and those of another in the company, a young militiaman of only seventeen. She saved both our lives, sir.”
Major Tidwell’s chin dipped in a small nod, but his expression did not soften. “And why would she attempt to help you escape from Byron? Why would she assume you were in danger?”
Emmett felt sick as his fears were confirmed. The letter had been intended for him. “I do not know, sir. I can only assume the men of my company, once they realized her relation to the commander, implored her to come here on my behalf.”
Major Tidwell studied Emmett a moment longer then turned toward his sister. “Abigail, what led you to believe Captain Prescott was in danger? Did he or the American soldiers deceive you?”
She stared down at her clasped hands.
“Answer truthfully, Abigail,” Major Tidwell said. “You have no need to fear any of them here.”
“I am not afraid of the Americans.” She spoke in a soft voice, twisting her fingers. “I overheard the lieutenant today before tea.” She darted a quick glance toward Lieutenant Fox and his companions. “He spoke about how the tree and the poison had failed, but tonight, he would make certain to do it right.” She looked up at her brother, and her chin trembled. “I couldn’t let them kill him, Isaac.”
“Why would they do this?” Major Tidwell’s expression was utterly bewildered. He turned toward Emmett. “Captain, tell me why your men would assume you to be in danger when you’d given your parole and were being detained peacefully as an officer.”
And now for the moment of truth. Emmett could feel Lieutenant Fox’s gaze on him as he organized his thoughts, searching for the words to convince an enemy commander that one of his men had violated the regulations for the humane treatment of soldiers. Not to mention, the man he was accusing was a nobleman, an officer of the king’s army.
“The lieutenant and I had a . . . dispute . . . after the Battle of Frenchtown,” Emmett began. “A heated dispute that has led to enmity between us.”
“A dispute over what?” Major Tidwell said.
Emmett glanced at the lieutenant and saw his smirk was still firmly fixed to his smug mouth, but the skin around his eyes was tight. He was worried. Perhaps he had assumed the major simply wouldn’t bother to ask the American for his side of the story. “I found evidence that the lieutenant had conspired with Indians to attack those injured men left behind after the battle.”
“Yes. I heard about this. A tragedy indeed. But the army had left Frenchtown long before the Indians attacked. It is a heavy accusation you make against one of my officers, sir.”
“It is. And I would not have made it if I had not seen with my own eyes.” He drew in a breath. “In Fort Detroit, I witnessed Lieutenant Fox giving money to an Indian brave in exchange for proof that the deed had been done.”
“What sort of proof?” Major Tidwell asked.
Emmett paused and glanced at Abigail. He didn’t want to discuss this in front of her. He’d seen her tending to the injured after the battle. The murdered men had been her patients.
“What proof, Captain?” The major’s voice was impatient.
“Scalps,” Emmett finally said. “The Indian brave delivered a bag of scalps.”
Abigail did not react with surprise. She closed her eyes, breathing out a sad sigh. Emmett realized she must have already known.
“Is this true, Lieutenant?” Major Tidwell asked.
Lieutenant Fox shrugged. “The Indians had their chance for revenge, the enemy’s morale is lowered, Fort Detroit and all of Upper Canada are safe. The deuced Americans are too frightened to attempt another attack.” He flicked away an invisible bit of lint from his sleeve. “A win for all involved. Well, except for the Americans. I deserve a commendation, not censure from a prisoner.”
Major Tidwell looked at Lieutenant Fox for a long moment. He sat heavily onto his chair, rubbed a palm over his cheek, then drew it across his mouth. He stared at the letter then his gaze moved to Abigail, Emmett, Lieutenant Fox, and back to his sister. Someone’s feet shuffled, a throat cleared, but the major remained quiet.
The silence in the room sounded loud to Emmett’s ears. He thought through the implications of what had happened. There was no doubt in his mind that Lieutenant Fox had made certain Abigail would overhear the conversation. He’d known, given only a few hours, that she’d act rashly, and he must have been watching, just waiting, to amass the evidence to implicate her.
But causing an innocent young woman to commit treason. A crime for which there was but one punishment, and for the satisfaction of revenge; such an action was more deplorable than he’d ever have imagined the lieutenant capable of.
Finally, the major rubbed his eyes. “Abigail, why didn’t you tell me any of this?”
She looked surprised, as if the idea of enlisting her brother’s help hadn’t crossed her mind.
“I . . . I don’t know.”
“Did you think I would allow an innocent man’s life to be endangered when he is under my protection?”
She didn’t answer, but another tear slipped from her eye.
“Abby,” the major’s voice sounded choked as his control slipped for the first time. “Do you know what you’ve done?”
“I’m so sorry, Isaac,” she whispered.
Emmett’s heart pounded. Major Tidwell couldn’t allow his own sister to be charged for a crime she’d committed under deception.
“She’ll hang, obviously.” Lieutenant Fox’s sneer could be heard in his voice. “We’ve evidence and two witnesses. Men have gone to the gallows with much less.”
Major Tidwell rose slowly and planted his hands on his desk. “Lieutenant Fox, in your thirst for revenge, you violated the Code of Conduct by threatening the life of a prisoner who’d given his surrender. You tricked a young woman into committing an act of treason, and I imagine if I were to ask your companions, they’d provide me with additional information about your dealings with the injured prisoners at Frenchtown.”
He leaned forward. “When a military career is at stake and a court-martial is on the horizon, men will give up a great deal of information.” He looked between the two men flanking the lieutenant. “Private Matthews, Corporal Henry, I assure you, you’ve much more to fear from me than the lieutenant.”
Both men’s faces paled, but Lieutenant Fox’s face was so white Emmett wondered if he might swoon. His smirk was completely gone, and instead of a smug aristocrat, he looked like a frightened adolescent.
Major Tidwell’s face was hard. “Guards, remove these men to separate cells and allow no communication between them.”
Lieutenant Fox began to argue, but Major Tidwell gave the guards permission to use force if necessary, and he quieted down straightaway, allowing himself to be led from the room.
Emmett thought he should have felt some sort of vindication seeing his enemy receive the consequence he deserved, but no bit of triumph could erase the dreaded uncertainty of Abigail’s fate. Even a major in His Majesty’s Royal Army had no power in this case. The air in the room felt thick and hot.
“And you, Private?” Major Tidwell said, looking to the young private with the round belly.
“Ferland, sir. I was the guard at the prisoner barracks when . . .” He winced, and his cheeks reddened as he glanced at Abigail.
Major Tidwell nodded, looking tired. “Yes. Return to your duty.”
The private saluted and hurried from the room, leaving only Abigail, Emmett, and the two guards he had arrived with.
Major Tidwell rubbed his eyes, and his shoulders drooped in exhaustion, as if maintaining a strong appearance had completely worn him out. Emmett thought in only an hour the man had aged quite a lot. “Abby-snail.” He held out his arms, and his sister moved into his embrace.
“I’m so sorry, Isaac,” she said.
“You will be given a trial, but the lieutenant was correct. With witnesses and evidence . . .” His voice choked.
Emmett would have given anything in that moment to be able to hold her and reassure her, and he felt deeply grateful that her brother treated her with care instead of anger.
“Captain Prescott is not to blame,” she said. “He had no knowledge of . . . any of this. And also Private Ferland. He was not negligent in his duty. I deceived him into allowing me into the barracks.”
The major glanced at Emmett, his face pained as he allowed his sister to weep. Then, kissing her cheek, he sent her away with one of the guards, promising to visit her soon.
Abigail glanced once at Emmett as she left the room, her expression filled with apology, and the heaviness that had pressed down on him since that morning when Lieutenant Devon was poisoned became so weighty that he hurt. His heart felt like it was being crushed, and hovering over all of it was a sense of desperation to fix this. Abigail could not hang—just thinking the words made his throat constrict, and panic set his nerves humming.
“Sit, Captain Prescott.” Major Tidwell jerked up his chin, pointing to a chair on the far side of the room.
Emmett sat.
Major Tidwell rested his elbows on his desk and his chin on his knuckles. He stared at the note. Moments passed. The major continued to stare, Emmett continued to fret, and the guard stood quietly beside the door as if he could not feel the two men’s despair.
The major reached for the pouch and tipped it, spilling out some of the rocks. Emmett recognized his own, and the fluorite from Abigail’s collection. The ache inside him grew.
Major Tidwell’s jaw tightened. He returned the rocks to the pouch and rose, pulling the cord tight and setting it back onto his desk. His face took on a determined look as he crossed the room toward Emmett.
Before Emmett had a chance to react, the major’s fist connected with his jaw and his head hit the wall, sending a burst of pain that made the edges of his sight flash. Emmett blinked as his sluggish thoughts caught up with what had happened.
The major hauled him up by his coat lapels and, just for an instant, his expression changed. His eyes were wide and pleading. “Your friends are north of town,” he whispered. “Please, save her.”
Emmett felt something cold and heavy slide into his shirt pocket as the major shoved him back into his chair.
Major Tidwell whirled toward the guard. “Return him to his cell,” he ordered and stormed from the room.