Faith (28 page)

“I can feed myself,” Faith said, reaching for the spoon.
She managed to eat several spoonfuls of porridge before the weakness claimed her again.

Honoree fed her the rest. “You are getting better. It just takes time.”

Faith saw tears dripping down Honoree’s face. Faith patted her friend’s forearm as Honoree continued to spoon the porridge. “Way will open,” she whispered.

Honoree nodded and went on feeding her. “We need to ask the colonel to find out where Bragg is.”

“Yes.” Colonel Knight came every evening to see her, help Honoree with her care. But they’d not talked privately for so long. She missed him. She shouldn’t, but she did.

As soon as the name was out of Faith’s mouth, Dev knew it was right. “Yes, that’s it. Braxton Bragg. I don’t know why I couldn’t bring it to mind before.”

“You don’t want us to go on with this,” Honoree said.

“That may be true, but I didn’t withhold the information for that reason
 
—for any reason,” Dev said, his voice rising.

“Peace,” Faith said, her hand outstretched in entreaty. “What happened was a shock. To both of us.”

Dev could see that speaking was still taking its toll on Faith. He claimed her outstretched hand. And then, though he wanted to keep hold of it, he set it down gently in her lap. He looked to Honoree, silently asking after Faith.

“Her fever is going down, and the wound is healing. I think we got most of the infection out. She’s on the mend.”

Warm relief washed over him in waves. But he still worried about the lasting effects of this trauma on Faith’s health.
“I’m glad to hear it.” Unable to stop himself, he laid his hand over Faith’s. “I’m so glad.”

Faith gazed at him, her eyes smiling around the bandages that crisscrossed her face.

He withdrew his hand, feeling guilty. “I’ll go to my immediate superior and see if I can find out anything about this Confederate. We’ll need to know where Bragg is now.” Then he kicked himself for saying
we
. If any action was taken, he needed to be the one taking it.

“Thank thee,” Faith whispered.

“We were going to ask you to find out where Bragg is. We know we can’t just walk up to him and ask for Shiloh,” Honoree said sarcastically. “But we figure he’s east of here, and after a battle when things are stirred up, we might be able to find Shiloh.”

The girl’s words chilled him. He did not want either of these women where things were “stirred up.” Didn’t the two of them have any sense of danger? “Did you ever think that she might have run away from LeFevre? I mean, slaves are running to the Union Army lines every day.”

Honoree frowned. “My sister knows her worth. And her danger.” She wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Shiloh wouldn’t leave relative safety for sure peril.” Then she looked him in the face. “Unless her situation was dire.”

“I’m sure after the price he paid for your sister, LeFevre would guard her and prize her,” Dev said, trying to reassure the two of them but also knowing that each word would wound them.

“As his possession,” Honoree said bitterly.

Faith moved her hand toward Honoree.

The situation sickened him too. But he decided to try to reason with them again. “Miss Faith, since you’re somewhat better, can’t I persuade you two to go home? I can look for Shiloh. You should be recuperating at home, not . . .” His voice trailed off.

The two women now shared the same stubborn expression.

He gritted his teeth. “Very well. Don’t listen to reason. I’ll go to Osterhaus and see what he knows of Bragg.” Dev turned away.

“Thank you, Colonel,” Honoree said.

He marched off, trying to distance himself again from these vexatious women. He repeatedly erected a wall, but somehow Faith always tore it down, leaving him exposed to feelings he didn’t want to have, shouldn’t have.

Not far from the wagon, the young Ella McCullough stepped out and stopped him. “I heard you try to persuade them to go home. I’m worried. Will Miss Faith recover?”

“She’s receiving the best of care,” Dev said, trying to sound reassuring, though the very thing the young woman feared was exactly what he dreaded.

Ella smiled. “Thank you.” She walked toward the wagon Faith was resting in.

This awful war. The girl belonged in her father’s house, filling her hope chest and going to church socials, not marching east with the army.

He hurried off directly to Osterhaus. Each morning after roll call he reported there anyway. Today he’d arrive early and see what, if anything, was known about Bragg and his location.

At Osterhaus’s tent, Dev saluted and was acknowledged.

“You’re early today,” Osterhaus commented.

“I wanted to ask for information about a Confederate officer.”

Osterhaus eyed him. “Carroll’s Rangers, by chance?”

Dev repressed his marked reaction. “I’ve heard of them. We’ll get them soon.”

Osterhaus nodded. “I hope so. What Reb officer are you looking for?”

“Bragg, Braxton Bragg.”

“According to what I’ve read in Southern newspapers, he’s bounced around plenty, starting in Texas. Now he’s ahead of us
 
—Army of Tennessee, I think.”

“Is that where we’re headed?”

“In a word, yes.” Osterhaus looked over Dev’s shoulder. “Here come the rest of the officers.”

Dev stepped back and turned to greet his fellow officers for their morning briefing. No doubt he’d be out again today, searching for Rebel raiding parties and perhaps finding unexpected Confederate troops. The two armies played cat and mouse, taking turns in each role.

Faith’s bandaged face glimmered in his mind. He was convinced his guilt over that would end only when he no longer breathed. Who knew how long that would be? But he hoped he would have long enough to bring Jack Carroll to book. Betrayal burned in his stomach.

OCTOBER 20, 1863

In the last of the summerlike heat, Dev and his regiment had skirmished their way east from Memphis, pushing back Confederate raiders who were harassing Brigadier General Sherman’s advance eastward toward Chattanooga.

After the Union defeat at the Battle of Chickamauga, Grant and Major General Rosecrans were holed up in the southeastern Tennessee mountains near Chattanooga, facing the Confederates Hood and Bragg. Chattanooga now was the prize each army wanted. It was a major railroad hub and the gateway through the mountains into Georgia. Railroads conveyed the lifeblood of any army
 
—supplies
 
—and whoever controlled one controlled the other.

Today, under a cloudless blue sky, Dev and his cavalry regiment rode along both sides of the railroad tracks running north to south. The noise of the chugging steam engine they shadowed made it impossible to hear anything else. Alert, Dev scanned the tree line along the tracks that ran amid horse pastures and the occasional farm field.

Here and there, fall red edged a high maple leaf. Outriders patrolled farther afield on each side. Dev would not let this train of desperately needed supplies fall into Rebel hands.

They hugged the cover of the tree line wherever they could, wary of bushwhackers. As he rode, his senses on guard, his mind worked on the problem that had perplexed him for weeks. How could he get Faith to go home? She’d suffered a serious wound and he wanted her safe, away from the war, even more than he had before. So far, however, his entreaties had fallen on deaf ears.

But now that this railroad line lay in Union hands, why couldn’t she just ride north by rail and then board an Ohio River steamboat and travel east to her home near Cincinnati? Willful stubbornness was the only rationale he could come up with.

Ahead, he saw they’d nearly completed their day’s mission. Sherman’s Army of the Tennessee was encamped on the horizon, awaiting the supplies on this train. Mentally he sighed with relief. No Reb in his right mind, not even Jack, would attack the train with the whole army nearby. The train whistle sounded, and the long train of cars began to slow. He led his regiment to the rail depot, where they would guard the supplies as they were off-loaded.

Hours later
 
—nearly evening, just as he was about to dismiss his men from the depot area
 
—Dev overheard a woman saying, “Yes, I am looking for the hospital wagons. Can thee help me?”

Thee?
He rode closer and glimpsed a woman near his mother’s age wearing distinctly Quaker garb, so like Faith’s. She glanced his way, and the family resemblance to Faith struck him between the eyes. He dismounted, led his horse through the men still helping to unload the train, and went straight to the woman. He doffed his hat. “Pardon me, ma’am?”

She regarded him. “Yes?”

“Allow me to introduce myself
 
—Colonel Devlin Knight.” He inclined his head. “You wouldn’t be from Ohio, would you?”

“Yes, we’re from Ohio.” She raised an eyebrow.

“You look so much like one of our nurses who’s also a Quaker
 
—”

“Thee knows Faith Cathwell?” the woman asked, her eyes lighting with excitement.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“She is our daughter.” The woman nearly danced on her toes as she formed signs with her hand toward the large gray-haired man beside her. “I am Honor Cathwell, and this is my husband, Samuel.”

Dev recalled Faith’s telling him that her father was deaf and her family communicated with him through finger signing. He watched, fascinated.

“Where is our daughter?” Honor asked.

“I can take you to her,” Dev said.

Honor hesitated. “We have brought supplies for the army
 
—we collected them from the members of our meeting in Cincinnati. Medicine, clothing, and food. But we also have a few boxes of personal items for our daughter and Honoree. Thee knows Honoree too?”

“Yes.” He motioned for two of his own men. “Mrs. Cathwell, tell this man which boxes are for your daughter. They’ll be marked as hers, and my men will make sure they’re delivered to her tent.” He glanced at the men, a silent order that they were to guard the boxes meant for Faith and Honoree. Though he hated to admit it, some soldiers thieved when they could.

His men nodded their promise to bring the women their supplies.

Honor directed the men to the boxes, which were then chalked,
Cathwell
. Finally she faced him. “Could thee take us to Faith? We are so anxious to see her again.”

“Of course. Follow me.” He gave his men parting orders and turned, taking his mount away.

Then another concern hit Dev. Did they know about the attack? “Have you heard from your daughter recently?”

“The last letter we received was in late August,” Honor said, while simultaneously communicating with her hand to her husband.

Dev observed this with interest as they strode through the crowded camp.

“Since Faith told us her hospital unit was with his troops,” Honor continued, “we’ve been following newspaper accounts of the movement of the troops with General Grant.”

So they hadn’t heard anything for almost two months. Dev debated with himself. Surely he must prepare these parents for Faith’s changed appearance. But how much did they know?

“Our daughter was wanting to go to New Orleans,” Honor said. “Did she get permission?”

Well, that led into what he needed to say. “Yes. Though I advised her to stay safely in Vicksburg and let me go and make inquiries into Honoree’s sister’s whereabouts, she insisted on traveling to New Orleans.” They passed a man selling newspapers.

“Thy face is downcast. What happened in New Orleans?” Honor’s steps slowed. “Do not hold back. Please.”

He felt the unwelcome sting of tears and shook it off. He continued to direct them but more slowly, between men headed the other way. “I traveled with your daughter and her friend to New Orleans in mid-September. We visited the slave auction house where . . . Honoree’s sister was sold. Then we went out to the plantation she’d been taken to.” He fell silent.

Faith’s parents walked beside him, their expressions sinking from mere worry to fear.

“Was Shiloh dead?” Honor asked, watching his face.

“No! I’m sorry,” he blurted. “The fact is, the lady of the house attacked your daughter . . . with a knife.”

Honor smothered a tiny shriek, pressing a hand to her mouth. “How badly?”

“Your daughter’s made an almost-full recovery, but
 
—” he tightened his grip on his emotions
 
—“her cheek was scarred. She was weak and ill for several weeks.”

Honor clutched his sleeve, halting him. “But she is well now.”

“The wound is healed, but I think she’s still weakened. She tires more easily than she used to.” He faced her but gestured for them to proceed through the narrow lane clogged with soldiers. “I shouldn’t have let her go to the plantation. But I swear I never once thought she’d be attacked.”

“I doubt thee could have stopped Faith from going. Was Honoree hurt?” Honor began walking again.

“We’d asked her to remain safely on the gunboat that brought us south. Leaving the Union-controlled city would have been even more dangerous for her.”

“I see,” Honor said solemnly. “I take it thee didn’t find Shiloh there?”

“No.” He couldn’t bring himself to tell this Quaker lady the truth about Shiloh’s whereabouts.

They walked on in somber silence, surrounded by the bustle and noise of the military camp.

“Thee mustn’t blame thyself,” Honor said.

Easier said than done.
“Yes, ma’am.” Then hope glimmered. Perhaps these two could persuade their daughter to go home. Surely they would do so without prompting from him.

He took them through the maze of tents, finally arriving at Faith’s. He noted that her mother was holding a handkerchief to her nose. He sympathized. Army camps had their own distinctive stench.

“Mother! Father!” Faith ran to them, her arms outstretched.

Dev stepped back and allowed himself the pleasure of observing a family reunited.

Then, with only a wave, he quietly walked away, returning his horse to the corral. He’d prepared her parents, and now Faith needed time alone with them. He thought of his own mother. Perhaps he’d be granted a Christmas furlough this year and would see her again. And then he considered Jack. Carroll’s Rangers were busy in eastern Tennessee. He grimly longed for another family reunion, but a very different one from Faith’s.

Seeing her parents so unexpectedly released the dam that held back Faith’s tears of joy and sorrow. She had hoped the war would be over the next time she hugged her mother. But that didn’t lessen her joy, couldn’t. Her father opened his strong arms, and for a moment she reverted to a little girl, wrapped safely within her father’s embrace.

Then she remembered her scarred cheek, and before she could stop herself, her hand flew upward to cover it. Though remaining tender, her wound had healed. Faith tried not to think of it. Still, she had yet to look into a mirror at that side of her face.

Her mother closed her hand over Faith’s and drew it down. “The colonel told us thee was attacked.” Honor leaned over and kissed the deep welt.

Faith felt tears stream down her face. “Mama,” she said like a child and leaned into her mother’s shoulder. Then both her mother and father enfolded her as she wept.

Finally they drew apart and Faith conveyed them to her tent, where she sat on her cot and they lowered themselves onto the two camp stools. “I didn’t know thee was coming.”

“We collected a train-car load of food, clothing, and medical supplies. We gained permission to deliver them through Tippy’s father. You remember Tippy
 
—Blessing’s friend?”

“Yes. Tippy’s father was a state legislator?”

Honor nodded. “He still has connections and was able to get our supplies included in the ones coming down the Ohio to the railroad line southward through Nashville, and he obtained a pass for us to come too.” Her mother glanced around her. “Thee is living very simply, Daughter.”

Faith chuckled at this. “Yes, we are. Any simpler and we’d be sleeping under the stars on the grass.”

Trying to smile but failing, Honor gazed at her. “I am grieved thee has suffered such pain.”

“I am too,” Faith agreed and conquered the urge to press her hand over the scar again.

“Thee is recovered then?”

“Yes. Dr. Bryant and Honoree took good care of me.” She wasn’t ready to admit that she tired more easily and lacked stamina. Surely that would rebound with time. “I’m fine,” she reassured them.

“Miss Cathwell?” a voice outside summoned her.

She ducked out the open flap. Outside, two cavalrymen were setting down several boxes in front of her tent. “Yes?”

Honor peered out. “Those are for thee and Honoree.”

“Oh.” Faith thanked the soldiers, who politely tugged the brims of their caps and then headed away with their mounts.

Faith could hardly believe the largesse. “Mother, what is in these boxes?”

“Winter clothing for thee and Honoree. More herbs from
thy garden, food, and anything else anyone could think to send.”