Faith by Lyn Cote Page B

under its load. He sucked in air and started off. “Keep safe!” he called over his shoulder.
    “Thee too!”
    He shook his head. He didn’t care what anybody said. A woman did not belong here doing this work, especially not this lovely young lady. Her family was derelict in their duty to keep her from such dreadful scenes. He wished her father were here in front of him. He had several choice words he’d voice.

T HE MILES BACK to camp in the deepening twilight pushed Dev toward the limit of his endurance. All the energy and excitement from the battle had left him. He felt drained, sucked dry, yet he had to get Honoree to the doctors. He owed Faith Cathwell.
    To the sound of distant moans and occasional sniper fire, he staggered beside his horse, keeping himself up by holding on to the reins and pommel, and often leaning against the horse as it plodded down the dusty road. He felt himself almost falling face-first. He fought to remain upright.
    As he limped along, he often checked Honoree’s neck for a pulse. Her heart was beating and she was breathing, but she was deeply unconscious. He spoke her name several times: “Honoree, wake up.” But she did not move or even groan.
    Finally he saw the Union camp and smelled the campfires where, after a hard day, men were heating coffee and beans over the coals and sitting very still, gazing wordlessly into the flames.
    Dev headed toward the camp hospital with its tents and coming and going Sanitary Commission wagons. He tried to close his ears to the sounds of suffering, but he couldn’t. Mindful of Faith’s request, he remained with Honoree. In the turmoil around the hospital and tents, he stood apart with his horse and tried to pick out a doctor or surgeon.
    Finally, in the last light of day, he spoke to one of the men at a Sanitary Commission wagon, who directed him to a particular surgical tent. Dev waited outside till the doctor exited for a brief break between patients. “Dr. Bryant, will you help me, please? Miss Cathwell sent me.”
    The man looked up, appearing exhausted, his surgical apron bloodstained. “Yes?”
    “This is one of your nurses.” Dev motioned toward Honoree on the horse. “She was struck unconscious during the battle, and we can’t wake her up.”
    Dr. Bryant came over, pressed his fingers to Honoree’s neck, and then turned to Dev. “I have seen this before. I can do nothing. She will either wake or she will not. I think she will wake. But she may suffer some memory loss or confusion.”
    Someone summoned Dr. Bryant from inside the tent. “I’m needed. Just watch her and pray.” The doctor turned away.
    Left with nothing to say and on the edge of exhaustion, Dev led his horse to his tent. Armstrong, as usual, was waiting outside for him. “Help me get her down and carry her inside, please.”
    Armstrong looked surprised but moved to receive Honoree’s shoulders and help Dev carry her into the tent.
    Dev was about to suggest that they lay Honoree on Armstrong’s cot, when he saw that his own cot was empty. He nearly dropped Honoree’s ankles. Had his cousin died today? He’d been almost well enough to turn in as a prisoner of war. “What happened? Where’s Jack?”
    Because Dev had stopped, Armstrong also paused. The manservant looked and sounded strained. “I went to fetch water, and when I returned, he was gone.”
    A punch to the gut. Shock shuddered through Dev in waves. “He broke his promise? He broke his word?” He couldn’t believe it. A gentleman did not go back on his word, no matter what.
    “I looked for your cousin, but I couldn’t find him in the turmoil with the battle and all. He took a white shirt of yours too.”
    “I didn’t think he was even strong enough yet to join the prisoners of war.” Bewildered, Dev couldn’t help himself. He glanced around as if Jack were hiding in the corner.
    The girl moaned.
    “Let’s set her down on my cot,” Dev urged.
    They did so. She lay still. Jack’s betrayal