Page 25 of Caught in Time
“You are inhumane, sir. The lady has nothing but the clothes she was wearing when you arrested her. Allow me to bring her fresh clothing,” Spencer insisted, pushing his case to see Charlotte. He was willing to go through any channel to arrange her release, but it was killing him not to take her in his arms and kiss her. Hold her. The brash detective wouldn’t budge.
“No, she’s not to be trusted,” he replied.
Spencer stood up and leaned over the desk, his tall frame towering over the short detective. He’d had enough.
“Unless you write the order to allow me to bring a bag of fresh clothes to Miss Liddell,” Spencer said, his heart pounding in his chest, “I swear I will send your sorry carcass to hell and back.”
It didn’t take any more convincing for the ornery detective to put pen to paper and do what Spencer asked, though unwillingly.
“We’re not done, Major, you and I,” Bridgeman spat out, signing the order. “Mark my words.”
“You’ll eat your words before I’m through with you.”
Spencer grabbed the paper and left the Pinkerton offices in a mad run. Within the hour, he boarded a train back to Savannah, his mind working overtime. He had a plan up his sleeve to get Charlotte released. The train journey gave him the opportunity to collect his thoughts, plan his next move. He swore he would get her back.
Spencer entered the townhouse.
“Annabelle, where are you?” he called out.
He felt a sharp jab at his heart, reminding him that if he didn’t come up with a defense soon, he’d never hold her in his arms again. He’d already rushed back to his office at the hospital to gather up his medical reports to prove how hard Charlotte had worked attending to the wounded. He prayed her courage, and fortitude would have some effect on the stubborn detective as well as the military commission deciding her case.
“Annabelle,” he called out again, louder this time, announcing his frustration at not finding her. “Where are you?”
Rushing onto the back porch, he caught sight of Annabelle sitting on the swing, her hands covering her face. She was sobbing uncontrollably. He quickly went over to her and held her in his arms, attempting to comfort her. Spencer told her, “I need to look over my medical records in the study. I also need to collect some fresh clothes for Charlotte.”
“Of course, Major, I will get a bag ready as soon as possible. Have you heard what Charlotte’s fate will be?”
“Not yet, but rest assured, I am doing everything in my power to gain her release. I have met with my lawyer. and he has advised me that the only evidence against Charlotte would be considered as hearsay. He insisted that any trial based solely on hearsay will be halted.”
His reply nearly started her sobbing again, especially after Spencer with a heavy heart had recounted what had happened that morning and how poorly Charlotte was being treated in prison.
“Will you be all right when I go to the study to look over my records?”
“Of course, anything you can do to prove Charlotte’s innocence. I will be in the parlor if you need me.”
After she had left, Spencer pulled out the cases Charlotte had personally worked on out of his valise.
When he was finished, he decided to pack clothing and toiletries for Charlotte rather than impose on Annabelle. After seeing the poor woman so upset upon his arrival, he thought it best to do it himself. A deep purple twilight sliced through the second-story windows like ribbons of glass, sending him into a pensive mood. What if he was unsuccessful in his attempt to clear her name and never saw Charlotte again? Would the military commission find her guilty and hang her in the prison courtyard? He shook his head to clear the troubling thoughts and pulled out practical blue and brown day dresses from her standing closet. With his booty in hand, he grabbed a carrying case he found at the back of the mahogany cabinet.
Spencer wandered into the parlor and spied Annabelle sitting in a wing backed chair.
“Would you care for some brandy, Major?” she asked solicitously.
“Yes, thank you. I will help myself it you don’t mind.”
“Of course not,” she replied.
He saw a bottle sitting on a nearby small table and downed a shot. He had a long train journey ahead of him back to Washington City that night. He intended to be in the Pinkerton offices tomorrow with new evidence. He wouldn’t give up until the woman he loved was out of that horrible prison. She belonged here with him in Savannah, and he didn’t give a damn whereorwhen she came from—or how a ripple in time had allowed Charlotte to travel back to 1864. It was a strange twist of fate that had brought her to him—brought her to his time. He now knew the truth. He loved her more than life itself and truly believed that she was a time traveler from the future. After he had met her, he knew that she had filled an emptiness in his heart.
****
“You are taking me away?” Charlotte asked, her voice filled with surprise. “Now?”
“Yes ma’am, those are the orders,” answered the guard, poking his nose into her cell and looking around. His actions made her nervous, the way he kept glancing over his shoulder.
“I was told my trial would start later today.”
“I don’t know nothing about a trial, ma’am. The commission decided that—”
