Faith by Lyn Cote

always afraid she’s going to fall off.”
    Faith shook her head and slipped out of Dev’s arms.
    The wagon shifted under them as the driver turned it toward camp. In the darkness Dev slipped a protective arm around Faith’s waist. He expected her to object, but she made no demur. To be able to help this selfless woman even in this small way gave him a satisfaction he’d never known.
    He remembered her request then about going to a plantation to seek the girl Shiloh. The possibility of finding Honoree’s sister was almost nonexistent, like the proverbial needle in a haystack   —and in the middle of a war. He shook his head. Women could be so unrealistic.
    Yet being close to her, even under these conditions, made him feel something he barely recognized, something tender and protective and for her alone. If only they weren’t in the midst of a war, a war he wouldn’t survive.

A T THE BREAK of the next day, Dev and the other cavalry officers gathered to receive orders from Brigadier General Osterhaus at his tent. Grant had the Confederates on the run, and he was determined to halt them before they reached Vicksburg, high on the bluff above the Mississippi River. Today promised to be as hot and uncomfortable as the last. But in the cool of the morning, Dev listened to the orders and then turned to leave the tent and go to his men.
    Thoughts of Faith tried to break his concentration. He forced them away. He had to be about his business, and his business was war. Near the horse corral and tents, he gathered his company leaders and issued them their orders about the push to stop the Confederates. After losing so many men and horses in the past two days, their mood appeared very grim, but that was to be expected. Along with them, Devmounted and headed toward the front, toward the Black River. Somehow they must cross it and catch up with the Rebs.
    A sense of urgency tingled through him, and he could sense it in the men around him. If they didn’t stop the Rebs before they reached the city, who knew how long Vicksburg could hold out in a state of siege? Sieges were nasty business.
    The crack of gunfire. One of his men dropped from the saddle. A bushwhacker was near. Another of his men paused to help their wounded comrade while the rest of their companies spread out in the high grass, leaning low over their horses. Dev focused his attention. We must get the Rebs.

    In her tent, Faith rose and felt as if she’d been struck by a train. This march to Vicksburg was pushing them all to their limits. Then, unaccountably, a sweet sensation overcame her, the memory of the colonel lifting her in his arms last night.
    On her way to the washbowl and pitcher, she stopped and let the memory spread through her. For those few fleeting moments, she’d wanted to nestle deeper into his strength and stay there. But of course she’d resisted and he’d set her on the wagon bench, thereafter only steadying her as they negotiated the bumpy road.
    Already dressed for the day, Honoree glanced in through the tent opening. “You just going to stand there all day?” she asked with a tart edge to her voice.
    Faith smiled ruefully and moved to the basin of tepid water to freshen up. So many newly wounded needed them, and though Honoree tried to hide behind gruffness howmuch she cared about their patients, she never deceived Faith. “It was very thoughtful of Armstrong to set up our tent last night,” Faith said, changing the subject.
    “He is considerate and knows our work keeps us going till dark or after,” Honoree agreed. “We need to get to breakfast and to the camp hospital.”
    Faith heard the urgency in her friend’s voice and quickly brushed her hair, braided it, and coiled it under her cap. “Let’s be off then.” When they left their tent, they found young Ella waiting outside to walk with them on their way to the hospital tent. Faith invited her to join them for breakfast at the mess tent for medical staff, which was bending the