Faith (13 page)

She returned and embarrassed both men by examining the chamber pot. She nodded to herself. “Call the corporal inside, please.”

The corporal took care of the needs of sanitation, and when he returned, Faith requested boiling water. Dev stepped outside and helped the corporal get the water boiling over the fire, then carried the kettle in to her.

She opened her medicine chest and began brewing what looked like herbal tea.

Dev hovered in the background, hoping she wouldn’t ask him to leave.

Soon he was helping support the boy while she spooned tea into her patient’s mouth.

“I’m as weak as a cat,” Fred apologized roundabout.

“Thee will be better soon. Dr. Bryant has treated many cases. He gave thee medicine and has asked me to stay and be thy nurse,” Faith said in a soothing tone. “Thee must merely do what we tell thee and all will be well.”

Dev hoped she was telling the absolute truth, not simply trying to encourage the boy to keep up hope and obey.

“I feel . . . ,” the boy stammered.

“Thee can tell me about thy physical sensations,” Faith said, continuing to spoon in the tea. “Part of being a nurse is listening to the patient’s symptoms and treating them or calling the doctor if needed.”

The boy gazed at her, unconvinced.

Inspiration came to Dev. “If you were sick, who would
take care of you after the doctor left, your mother or your father?”

“My mother.”

“Well, then it shouldn’t be hard for you to tell this nurse about your troubles. And lots of soldiers have done so. Isn’t that right, Miss Faith?”

He was gratified when she sent him a quick smile.

“Yes, I have been nursing for many months, Fred. I have cared for hundreds of soldiers, some with what is ailing thee.”

Fred nodded. “That tea tastes like hay.”

Faith chuckled. “But it will calm thy body inside, and that’s what we need so thee doesn’t have worse spasms of the bowel.”

At the mention of the bowel, Fred flushed, one red dot on each pale cheek.

Finally Fred drank all his tea, lay back down, and fell into an exhausted sleep. Faith curled up in the general’s large traveling chair beside Fred’s cot.

Dev murmured that he would stay to help her with the boy. She did not object, so he lifted a folded blanket from the top of a trunk, rolled up in it, and lay down nearby. He dozed on and off, waking to help Fred when needed.

Finally, when dawn was breaking, General Grant quietly entered his tent.

Faith rose and Dev scrambled to his feet and saluted.

Grant nodded for him to be at ease. “How did Fred pass the night, miss?”

“Thee was wise to call Dr. Bryant right away,” she said. “Thy son will have a few more uncomfortable days, but quick treatment has already slowed and is stopping the debilitating effect of this disease on Fred.”

Grant sighed with relief.

“I am going to my tent,” Faith continued, “and will send another nurse, Honoree Langston, to take over today. She is my friend and tentmate. She will know what to do while I rest. I will return in the evening to relieve her. Thy son will need constant nursing for the next few days until Dr. Bryant feels he is near recovery.”

“My thanks, miss. That is a weight off me.”

She curtsied and closed up her medicine chest. “I will leave this if thee will keep it safe till my friend Honoree comes.”

“Of course.” Grant turned to Dev. “You stayed all night?”

“Miss Faith needed my help so your son would not be so embarrassed,” Dev said.

Grant nodded.

Dev decided to take advantage of the situation to perhaps smooth matters between himself and Faith. “General, Miss Faith has discussed something of a personal matter with me that you might be able to help with.”

“Oh?” General Grant cocked an eyebrow at him.

“The other nurse’s sister, a free woman of color, was kidnapped before the war and sold south. Miss Faith has been inquiring in the contraband camps and has finally gotten word of a woman fitting the description of her friend at a plantation near here in Madison County.”

Grant nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“I have just turned over command of the African Brigade and would like permission to take Miss Faith to the plantation
 
—after Fred no longer needs her skills. We know it’s a long shot, but . . .” He shrugged.

“I think after Fred recovers, we can let you have a day to do this. But do not accompany Miss Cathwell alone. The surrounding areas are hostile. More than one band of Rebs is raiding and harassing us. Take a company with you.”

Faith looked surprised. “Thank thee, General.” She then allowed Dev to usher her outside and she accepted his arm this time.

Until they were well away from the general’s tent, neither spoke.

Faith broke the silence. “I did not expect thee to ask that of the general.”

“It has been on my mind . . . among other concerns.” He let this sink in as he walked her through the waking camp.

“I have been avoiding thee,” Faith confessed.

“What did I do to offend you?” He was glad the morning barrage had yet to start so they didn’t need to raise their voices.

“Nothing.” She paused, still walking but looking down pensively. “That unpleasant Dr. Dyson made a remark to me about . . . our friendship.”

He gave a brusque hiss of irritation.

“He was the one who was so rude to me at our first meeting. And he is ever thus.”

“Then why let him influence you?”
Affect us?

“I’m sorry I did. I just didn’t want to be the subject of gossip.”

He considered this, listening to the routine morning camp sounds
 
—men’s voices and the sound of coffee bubbling over campfires. “Miss Faith, I understand your sentiment. But I will not dissemble. In this awful siege I find your companionship a comfort, a distraction
 
—”

“I find the same in thy company.”

“Then why, in the midst of this war, should we let one sour person or idle gossip deter us? As long as we observe the proprieties, let them talk. We will have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I agree.” She beamed at him. “I thank thee again for helping me last night.”

“I’m glad I was able to do so.” He walked beside her now, content to merely experience her presence. For however long that would be possible.

A
FTER SEVERAL MINUTES
by her side, the colonel had to be about his duties, so Faith walked alone the remainder of the way to her tent so she could freshen herself to meet the new day. She woke Honoree and requested that she nurse Fred today. Then Faith brushed out her tangled hair, letting herself enjoy the feeling of peace that had come from her reconciliation with the colonel.

Yet around her nothing had changed. The camp smells she strove to ignore still forced her to sniff the vial of lavender she wore around her neck. The sound of the drummer keeping the thousands of troops in military time and routine still pounded. The Mississippi heat caused perspiration to bead on her forehead and upper lip. And she knew the bombardment of Vicksburg would again blast to life after breakfast.

But nothing could quench her joy.

Honoree sat nearby on a stool, rebraiding her own hair and humming “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot.” Faith hummed along, feeling as if she were wrapped in a soft cloud that not even a night spent nursing could pierce.

The lonely days away from the colonel had been put behind them. Did he feel the same way as she did this morning? And he’d done more than give her this wonderful feeling. She remembered she had good news for Honoree too.

The cloud still softening every harsh reality around her, she glanced at her friend. And realized that Honoree looked pleased too. “Why so happy?”

Honoree looked up from bending her head to braid the short hair at her nape and grinned. “Armstrong kissed me for the first time last night.”

Faith gasped. “Honoree!”

Honoree chuckled. “I thought it was time.”

Faith’s cloud expanded. “Thee is serious about him, then?”

“Of course. He’ll be free very soon, and after the war, I’m sure we’ll have a future together. Armstrong’s not the kind of man to lead a girl on.” Honoree looked down again, wrestling with the ends of her short hair.

Faith remained silent, letting her friend savor the sweetness of a first kiss, savoring it vicariously herself. She remembered her first kiss shared with the man she’d thought she would marry. In a letter from her mother, she’d learned he had died at Antietam, more than eight months ago. A stitch in her heart.
God, be with his family in their grief.

This brought to mind the danger Colonel Knight faced each time he led his men on patrol. She shut her eyes, willing
away the fact that the war could snatch him from her at any time.

She opened her eyes and looked to her friend. “Honoree, I have good news. When we were at the general’s tent, Colonel Knight asked if he could take me to Annerdale. And the general granted the request.”

Honoree’s head snapped back as if she’d been slapped. “Truly?”

“Yes.”

Honoree rose from the camp stool and the two of them embraced. “I hardly even let myself hope anymore,” Honoree murmured.

“I know,” Faith replied in kind.
Our sweet Shiloh.

“Sometimes I wish I’d lost her like you lost Patience. I think I could accept her death
 
—”

“No!” Faith jerked away, realizing again no one understood what it felt like to lose half of oneself. How could Honoree even say this? “No.” In spite of the humidity hanging in the air, she shivered. “Where there is life, there is hope. I believe that. And Shiloh knows we will never stop looking for her. When this war ends, if I have to search every town in the Confederacy, I will.”

Tears welled in Honoree’s eyes. She leaned forward and kissed Faith’s cheek. “You are my sister too
 
—the sister of my heart. And I will not give up hope either. We will search till we find her.”

Faith embraced Honoree again and stepped to a small mirror propped on a trunk. She tucked and pinned the end of her braided coronet and donned one of the white caps she always wore under her bonnet. She then tied her bonnet
ribbons loosely around her neck but, because of the burgeoning heat, let the bonnet hang down her back till she went out into the sun.

After she and Honoree had filled her apron pockets with cloth packets of herbs, they set out for the mess tent. Thinking of Shiloh had muted Faith’s elation but hadn’t snuffed it completely.

Faith savored every memory of the colonel, and this morning she’d tucked the calendula he’d given her into the special pocket inside her apron. What a tender gesture. A man of war picking wildflowers for her.

Honoree nudged her. “What are you smiling about?”

Faith shook her head, refusing to reply. She realized her heart was facing the firing line of hurt and sorrow. However, better a few tender memories with a fine man than none at all.

Dr. Dyson accosted Faith as she and Honoree stepped into the mess tent. “You’re the one behind that tainted pie.”

At this the soft cloud around her evaporated like morning dew in the heat of the sun. Faith said nothing, merely stared at him.

“You made me sick,” Dr. Dyson accused, “cost me a day of doctoring, and I had to defend myself against the charge of complicity in theft.”

“Why do you always pick on Miss Faith?” Honoree fired up, thrusting herself between Faith and Dr. Dyson.

The doctor ignored her. “I’ll not forget this.”

“Is that a threat?” Honoree demanded.

“What’s going on here?”

All three of them swung around to face Dr. Bryant.

Dr. Dyson tried to speak.

But Dr. Bryant’s voice overrode him. “Dr. Dyson, just be glad that your claim of innocence was believed, or you would be with Slattery in the stockade, awaiting court-martial. Now let these nurses eat their breakfast. Don’t you have enough to keep you busy?”

Red-faced, Dr. Dyson nodded brusquely and stalked away.

Dr. Bryant bowed to them and followed Dyson outside.

Faith and Honoree exchanged telling glances, then moved forward to receive their bowls of corn mush and cups of coffee. Faith was glad she was able to help catch the thief. But Dr. Dyson’s animosity still bothered her.

Initially the surgeons, to a man, had resented female nurses, and some had been more than merely rude. But as time had passed, a few like Bryant had come to value them. In any event, the out-and-out rudeness had waned except from those like Dr. Dyson. Dealing with thousands of wounded at a time, the doctors had realized they needed all the help they could get
 
—even from women. Was there any way she could live more at peace with this sour man?

After breakfast outside his tent, Dev tried to focus on the day
 
—not last evening spent in Miss Faith’s company, even if it had just been to help her with a patient. He could not afford to let those sweet moments soften him. With stiff military posture, he strode toward the staging area of the African brigade. Today they were marching to their post, and he wanted to see them off. He’d been told they would merely be guarding a supply depot northwest of here at Milliken’s Bend, right on the Mississippi.

Since they’d received so little military training, this duty came as a relief to him. They wouldn’t be marching into battle and sure death. But a worry nagged at the back of his mind. What if some Rebels tried to take those precious supplies of food and ammunition the new soldiers would be guarding?

Ahead, he saw the African Brigade standing in ranks at attention, and the sight hit him with a familiar haunting sensation he hated. He couldn’t help but think of that term for the common soldier
 
—“cannon fodder.” It was a heartless view of their fate, but one inherent in war. A general had to think not of individual lives sacrificed but of the bigger picture of strategy and winning battles and thus ending this war for all.

But that reality was not reassuring when Dev considered Armstrong’s individual fate.
I don’t want him to be a soldier, a pawn in this deadly game of battles and campaigns.

Looking ahead, he recognized the African Brigade’s new commanding officer, Lieutenant Colonel Lieb. Dev approached the man and they exchanged salutes.

“The general told me you were leaving today for your post,” Dev said, opening the conversation.

“Yes,” Lieb said with his slight accent. Dev had learned that he’d emigrated from Switzerland and settled in Illinois. For a moment, Dev wanted to ask him if, when leaving his native land, he could have foreseen becoming the commanding officer of an African Brigade in a war between the American states. War did make for strange acquaintances. Would Dev himself ever have thought he’d find such pleasure in, of all things, the company of a Quaker lady, an abolitionist, a female nurse?

“I thank you for your work in training these men,” Lieb said.

Dev replied politely, “I was glad to be involved.” He turned to look out over the men. Each face was set with determination and each back was straight with pride. Among the ranks, he glimpsed Carson, who had recently been promoted.

Did they have any idea what they were facing? He recalled his own first battle
 
—the chaos, the panic. His stomach tightened. No words he could say would prepare them, but he wanted them to know he acknowledged their commitment to preserving the Union. But he did not want Armstrong to make the same commitment. How could Dev stop him?

“I’d like to say a few words to the men,” Dev requested, “before the morning barrage begins, if I may.”

“Of course,” Lieb said and stepped back, waving Dev forward.

“Men!” Dev said. “You have done all I asked of you with a determination and eagerness that speaks well of you. It has been an honor to help in your training. I know you will stand and fight.” He found he couldn’t say more, his throat clogged with emotion. So he finished by saluting them smartly.

The brigade returned his salute, almost as one.

Dev shook hands with Lieb, and then the morning barrage blasted to life behind them. Dev turned away and headed toward his regiment and his duties for the day.

After reporting to Osterhaus’s tent for orders, Dev approached his men where they waited after roll call. He gazed at them as he had the African Brigade earlier. He did not like today’s orders, but what did that change? Nothing.

“Men, today we join the digging of the breastwork of trenches around Vicksburg.”

He saw the dismay on their faces, heard a few groans from the rear. They were cavalrymen. But the breastworks provided the troops with cover and, just like the daily barrages, kept up the pressure on the besieged city. “Form ranks and follow me.”

They obeyed, and he led them forward to pick up their shovels. It would be a hot day of hard labor under the unrelenting sun, with the barrage overhead and perilous sniper fire from embattled Vicksburg.

He thought again of walking beside Faith the night before. And reminded himself that she was talking to him now. The tightness in his chest eased.

Dev just had to make sure he didn’t get picked off today by a Reb sniper. Then he could look forward to another evening in her restful yet lively company. Maybe she would have an idea of how to dissuade Armstrong from enlisting. Perhaps she would see matters his way . . . for once.

After cleaning up from a day of digging, Dev stretched his shoulders. He’d helped on and off to encourage his men, and his muscles would no doubt ache tonight. Fortunately none of his men would suffer anything more than that. They’d come close with that failed attempt to breach the city wall. Though tired, he’d still changed clothing from the skin out. He’d been drenched with sweat from a day in the sun.