The stench of the gaol was overwhelming; I placed my handkerchief under my nose, though that did little to cover the miasma. Men and boys were exposed to the hot summer sun with little to no shade. Father was afforded the luxury of a slight, shady spot under an overhang; even in gaol, father was respected and honored by the men of Camden.

“Father! What…have they done to you?” I reached through the bars and cupped his dirty and bruised cheek.

“My sweet Abigail. I have naught but some bruises and cuts, but I fear that pales in comparison to what is in store for me,” he said, his eyes filling with tears.

“Colonel Rawdon will not see me; alas, I could only speak to his aide. He tells me you have already been tried?”

“It was a military tribunal, of sorts. Mr. Cook and I were staying with a family in the back country, not too far from Granny’s Quarter when a bedraggled group of men came looking for shelter, food, and care. A few of them were badly injured. We did not ask them what happened, or for whom they fought. I was treating their injuries with what meager supplies I had, when a group of the King’s soldiers beat on the door. According to them, I had provided ‘aid and comfort to the enemy’ and would be arrested and tried, accordingly. They arrested Mr. Cook and I, and the family who took us in. They offered no quarter to the injured men; they shot those that tried to fight back, and bayoneted those that that were too weak to rise.” Horrified, my hand flew to my mouth with a gasp.

“At the trial, an affadavit from ‘a concerned citizen’ named me as a patriot conspirator. That was the reason why my sentence is ‘to be hanged by the neck until dead.’” At father’s pronouncement, I thought I would be sick. I sank to the ground, into the odorous muck, as I tried to rein in my emotions. My father…a conspirator? What blackguard would accuse him of such?

“Surely, father, there’s something we can do? Maybe Mr. Kershaw or Mr. Chesnut could intercede on your behalf?”

“It would be no use, my dear girl. Without knowing who this ‘concerned citizen’ is, there is no hope of staying my execution. All of our influencial friends would risk their own necks by trying to save mine. I will not have them risk the security of their own families for me. Abbie, I have made my peace with God. I will be by your mother’s side a few short days from now, free from the pain and heartache of this world. I need you to be strong, for Betsy and Charles’s sake. Can you do that?” I nodded sorrowfully, my hands gripping the bars as father’s hands covered mine.

“You are just as much of an apothecarist as I have ever been. Promise me you will continue to run the shop? What we do is of the greatest importance, Abbie. Our neighbors and friends need us…need you…to provide succor and healing. And, yes, even those that seek to bend our will. You must treat them all equally, regardless of their allegiances.”

“Yes, father, I will,” I barely managed a whisper.