Faith by Lyn Cote Page A

rules. But the girl helped them and deserved at least a good breakfast.
    For a moment the number of wounded men   —thousands in just the past few days   —threatened to overwhelm her. She forced herself to reflect on one of her favorite psalms: “God is my refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.” She could not survive on her ability alone. God, fill me with thy enduring power.

    After breakfast, when they reached the hospital tents, Armstrong was waiting outside one of them. “Good morning, ladies.”
    Honoree tried to hide her beaming smile. And failed. Faith hid her understanding grin, relishing the idea that her friend might have found love in the midst of war. Faith shied away once more from thinking of the colonel. Yet again he would be at the forefront, in danger every moment. Her pulse sped up.
    Ella paused just ahead of them at the hospital tent, looking somewhat confused by Armstrong’s presence.
    “I came to offer my services.” Armstrong held up a hand to stop any objection. “The days are long and my duties slim. I’m here to fetch and carry and lift.”
    “Thank thee.” Faith accepted his hand and shook it. “Come.”
    Ella stopped Faith with a hand on her sleeve. “Miss Faith?”
    “What is it, Ella McCullough?”
    Armstrong and Honoree proceeded into the hospital.
    Ella waited and then asked right by Faith’s ear, “Why did you shake hands with that colored man?”
    Faith sighed silently. “I did so because I was grateful for his offer of help.”
    “But whites don’t shake hands with coloreds.”
    Faith pressed her lips together. “Ella, thee noticed the first time we spoke that I am a Quaker. Many Quakers treat people of color as lesser, but my family never did. Honoree and I grew up together, almost as cousins.”
    Ella stared at her. “It ain’t right. Blacks and whites don’t mix. They got their place and we got ours.”
    Faith decided she would gain nothing with further persuasion. The majority of whites north and south would echo what Ella had just stated. “We need to go in and relieve the night nurses.”
    Ella nodded and followed Faith inside.
    Limp with fatigue, the night nurses could barely relay information about their new patients. Faith and Honoree began their rounds, Ella helping as much as she could.
    The army had moved, leaving behind the hospital nearJackson and their patients there. But the new fighting had produced many new patients here. And no end in sight.
    Ella managed to draw near to Faith. “Can I ask you   —is that black man courtin’ Honoree?”
    Faith smiled. “I don’t know if he is, but I think he might like to.”
    Ella shook her head. “Maybe that’s best. Honoree won’t have to worry about him.”
    Faith understood. Ella had a young husband to worry about, and she . . . she had someone to worry about as well, much as it pained her to admit it. Then she heard gunfire in the distance.
    More killing today.
    More dying today.
    More wounded today.
    For a moment she was drowning. She gasped for God. His peace did not come. Or was it there, and she just couldn’t receive it? She envisioned the colonel riding toward danger.
    God, please help.

    When Dev and his company reached the Black River again, the question of how to cross its depth had already been assessed and addressed. The army engineers were busy building a bridge to cross the river on what looked like bales of cotton.
    The engineers waved to them, and soon his men had dismounted and were moving through the water with the cotton bales, setting them where told to and then laying sheeting over them. Dev had a hard time believing what he, a cavalry officer, was doing. But cotton was all the engineershad to work with, and he wouldn’t order his men to work while he stood by, idly watching.
    Bushwhackers kept up the pressure, so they worked hunched over, giving less of a target but with their backs aching. Finally the bridge was completed. Holding their firearms and