by Lyn Cote
More than ever determined to find a way downriver, Faith walked away with Honoree. She felt the distance the colonel had once more set between them. That shouldn’t have bothered her, but it did.
SEPTEMBER 1, 1863
Honoree stood at Faith’s elbow outside their tent after supper. “I’ll go with you to the general,” she offered.
Brushing away an insistent mosquito, Faith glanced at her. “No, I think I had better go alone.”
“Why?”
“I can’t put it into words. I just think it would be best if I went by myself.” She couldn’t shake the colonel’s disapproval of her going to New Orleans. It had cast a pall over her, made her indecisive, not like herself.
“Well, I’m going with you whether you want me to or not.”
“Very well.” Faith sighed long and loud and then nearly slapped herself. If she didn’t stop, this downhearted sighing could develop into an annoying habit.
With determination, she lifted her plain white bonnet into place and tied its frayed ribbons; Honoree did the same and they set off.
Over the past weeks, the joy of the ended siege had declined into the boredom of camp life between battles. Men gambled for pennies in small groups in the shade of the few remaining trees. A fiddler nearby was playing a lazy tune for his own entertainment. A few men sat in front of their tents, mending shirts and patching pants.
As Faith overheard snatches of conversation, her agitation stood in stark contrast to the pervasive boredom. She knew that she feared the general would deny her request for a military pass south to New Orleans. If he did, she wasn’t sure what other recourse she could take.
And she didn’t want to think of how the colonel would react when he found out she’d applied to the general for this favor. She’d allowed Devlin Knight to become important to her. Thinking of him stirred her and stressed her at the same time. But she must let nothing and no one deter her from her goal.
With each step forward, she worked to bring herself into focus, ready to plead her case before the general. “I hate to bother General Grant,” Faith murmured to Honoree. “He’s got a whole army to think about.”
“He won’t be rude, if that’s what you’re worried about. He knows us, owes us after we nursed his son to health.”
Yes, but is that enough to lead him to grant us what we want, need? A second time, after Annerdale?
When she and Honoree reached his tent, the general was just coming out. As usual, he was wearing a dusty and wrinkled uniform. Except for the gold braid on the shoulders and hat, no one would know he was the Union commander of the Western Campaign.
“General,” Faith said, “may we have a moment with thee?”
He looked surprised, doffing his hat. “Ladies, what can I do to help you?”
General Grant’s son Fred, still too thin, had emerged behind his father, and he bowed his head shyly to the women.
Faith tried to think of a way to open the conversation.
“General Grant,” Honoree said, “we are coming to ask a favor.”
Honoree’s forthrightness only heightened Faith’s tongue-tied state.
“Fred, bring out some camp stools for the ladies.” When this was done, the general waved for them to be seated. “What is it? You know I am in your debt.”
Again Honoree took the lead. “Not long ago you let Faith go to that plantation to ask about my sister, who was kidnapped from her employer’s home in Cincinnati. Well, she found out …” Honoree paused, looking to Faith.
“That Honoree’s sister Shiloh had been there,” Faith said, able to speak now that the subject had been broached. “At Annerdale, a slave said she’d seen Shiloh and that the slavers who had her in their possession intended to take her to the auction in New Orleans.”
Grant had given her his full attention. “Probably traveled down the Ohio to the Mississippi, the quickest way to get far from Cincinnati.”
“Yes, General,” Faith agreed. “At home, Shiloh’s employer had gone away to attend a meeting, so no one realized what had happened until the next morning.” Faith didn’t mention that she’d been visiting Shiloh to keep her company and take her mind off her own sister’s recent death.
“Plenty of time for them to get far away with her,” he commented. “And indeed they would take her to New Orleans. The slave auction there was an important one. The slavers could get a better price for her, and so far from your home, no one would identify her as a free woman of color.”
Faith drew in a sharp breath. “Admirably summarized, sir.”
“So you want to go to New Orleans, but you need a military pass and transportation.”
“That’s exactly it, General,” Faith replied, grateful he’d said it for them.
“I must give this some consideration,” General Grant said. “Come back tomorrow. If I’m not here, I will leave word with my secretary.”
Faith rose. “We’re sorry to bother thee in the midst of all thy duties, but this was only the second lead we’ve had toward finding her. It’s been nearly five years now.”
“Do you really think you can find her?” Fred spoke up.
“We will find her,” Faith said, “if God wills.”
They both curtsied and left the general and his son behind. Honoree claimed Faith’s hand, and they clung to each other. As they walked side by side, Faith prayed. Surely God would help them find Shiloh.
After over two months of being in camp since Vicksburg fell, Dev had been glad to mount up with one of his best companies in the very early, cooler morning and head out on patrol. Though Vicksburg had surrendered, the Rebels outside the city had not given up. Union outposts scattered around enemy territory were still being raided. The Union cavalry needed to push back or be overrun by Rebs.
So he was ready to be about his business, yet his conversation with General Grant last evening had left him unsettled, disgruntled, and without a choice.
Miles passed under his horse’s hooves as the sun rose higher. The memory of Faith’s challenge to him as he’d pumped water for her plagued him even now. Dev tried not to rehearse rebuttals to the Quakeress’s Scriptures about two masters and a house divided. He shouldn’t care what she thought. He knew his own mind, didn’t he? Why did this woman’s words vex him so?
Gunfire in the distance. Dev stood tall in his stirrups. “Forward! Engage at will!”
They swooped over a dried-up cotton field toward the gunfire and smoke. A Reb raiding party was attacking an outpost that guarded a supply line along the Yazoo River.
Dev’s cavalrymen dashed forward, firing.
Outnumbered, the raiding party turned their horses and raced away north.
“After them!” He spurred his horse and pelted after the retreating Confederates.
One Reb turned in his saddle and fired.
Dev felt the impact in his shoulder but kept his seat and didn’t rein in his horse. When another soldier near him fell from his saddle, Dev slowed his mount. “Let them go!” he shouted.
His orders were to harass the raiders but not to bring in any prisoners. The army would be moving soon and couldn’t afford to have prisoners slowing them down. They’d routed the raiders, and that was their job today. If they continued the pursuit, this might turn out to be a feint that would lead them into an ambush.
The Rebs disappeared over the horizon. Dev slid from his saddle to see to the injured man who had fallen near him. Kneeling, he bound up the man’s arm.
“Who’s going to see to your wound?” the man asked, pointing to Dev.
Dev followed the man’s gaze and saw blood on his uniform sleeve. He shrugged out of his fatigue jacket and noted that his upper arm had been deeply grazed. “Nothing serious.” Now that he was aware of it, the graze began to throb.
“Colonel,” one of his men said, drawing near him while still mounted. “One of the Rebs tossed this over his shoulder.”
Dev accepted the folded piece of paper tied to a stone. On the outside, the paper said, To Col D K
night.
Dev untied and unfolded it, reading: Catch me if you can. JC. He flamed within at the affront, one so reminiscent of their boyhood together. He shoved the paper into his inner pocket. “Just Rebel rudeness. Let’s get this man back to camp!”
He helped the wounded man onto his horse, which another soldier had retrieved. The company headed south, back toward Vicksburg. Dev’s arm burned from the graze, and his stomach burned with indignation at his cousin.
Leave it to Jack to taunt him. Had he actually been with the raiding party? Dev hadn’t seen Jack’s cockaded hat. So had Jack given the note to another Confederate to drop near any Union cavalry company?
Back in camp and entering the hospital tent, Dev was grateful to note that Faith and Honoree were not on duty there. He couldn’t face another conversation with Faith about this war, Armstrong, and everything else. He especially did not want to see those women after being summoned to the general last night. He might be tempted to argue with them, no doubt fruitlessly.
After a surgeon’s cursory examination, he allowed a night nurse to clean and bandage his wound. Then he headed to his own tent. Inside, he sat on his cot and opened the note from the battlefield once more. One would think that a man who’d dishonored his name by breaking his word would not call attention to himself like this.
“Colonel?”
It was Faith’s voice. Dev rose and went outside.
“Someone told me that thee had been treated in the hospital.”
This was not good news. Though he craved her company, he didn’t want people linking him and the Quakeress. “Just a scratch.”
“Did thee want me to look at it?”
“No, the nurse on duty took care of me after the surgeon looked at the wound. No stitches needed. I’m fine.”
She seemed to struggle with herself. “Very well. Expect to be a bit feverish tonight. Send someone for me if it swells or if thy fever rises to more than moderate.”
“Of course.” I won’t. “I’m going to rest now.”
“Certainly, but be sure to drink something before thee turns in for the night.”
“I will.” Please leave.
Though she glanced over her shoulder at him a few times, she walked away. He was sorry he couldn’t completely hide his irritation at the new orders he’d received last night, but he’d done the best he could.
Dev knew he’d have to face her tomorrow. He hoped she hadn’t been the one who’d prompted the general’s request that he be the man for this job. Regardless, he’d quell any attempts on her part to draw him into discussions of slavery or the aftermath of this war. That was all too far ahead to contemplate, especially since he probably wouldn’t be alive to see it anyway.
The next day, outside the hospital tent, Faith and Honoree were saying farewell to Dr. Bryant as they prepared to leave for the boat they’d received written permission to board for the trip to New Orleans.
“Now you two take care of yourselves,” the head surgeon was saying.
Though her stomach churned with uncertainty and excitement, Faith hid a grin. Her father had told her the same thing when she and Honoree left home. “We will, Doctor. And we will return as soon as we are able.”
The head cook and the staff whom Faith had hired near Jackson gathered a little ways off, bidding them good-bye too. The head cook had taken responsibility for their tent and other possessions till they returned. Ella stood a bit apart, looking worried.
Then Devlin Knight appeared, also carrying a valise.
Faith looked at him, sudden apprehension flaring to life. “Colonel?”
“Miss Faith,” he said, barely pausing, “let us be off to the quay.”
“What?” she gasped. “Is thee accompanying us?”
He stared at her. “So you didn’t ask the general to order me to accompany you to New Orleans?”
“No.” She watched his jaw move as if he were chewing steel.
“Well, those are my orders. I am to accompany you there and back.”
Faith absorbed this while Honoree approached them. She glanced at her friend. “Thee heard?”
“We all heard,” Honoree said with a touch of irony.
The colonel stiffened. “Shall we be off? The USS Rattler is waiting for us to board, I believe.”
With a few parting waves and words, Faith and Honoree fell into step with the colonel. The distance to the steamer passed in strained silence. Faith felt the weight of the colonel’s displeasure. Of course he didn’t want to leave his regiment. Of course he didn’t think she and Honoree should go to New Orleans. But they were going, and so was he. For whatever reason, General Grant had seen fit to order this.
At the dock they stared up at the USS Rattler. It was easy to see that the Rattler had once been a normal steamboat, but now tin panels with gun slots enclosed what must have been the open lower deck before the war. On the upper deck, the bridge and cabins had also been tin-clad, but the area between the cabins and railing remained open.
The colonel asked permission to board, which was granted. They walked up the gangplank. The sailors on the upper deck stared at the two women.
The man who must be their captain—if the profusion of braid on his uniform was any indication—strode forward, meeting them at the top of the gangplank. He was of medium height and weight and looked ready to spit. “I’m Shipmaster Fentress. Follow me.” His tone was unwelcoming to say the least.
Faith and Honoree obeyed, trailed reluctantly by the colonel.
“Here is your cabin,” Fentress said at the door of a small room near the bridge on the upper deck. He was becoming more irritated by the moment.
“Thank thee.”
“Having females aboard a ship is bad luck,” the man snapped. “And distracting to my men. You two may walk the deck once in the morning, afternoon, and evening. Otherwise I want you to remain in your quarters. You will eat in your cabin. Is that understood?”
“Thee is the captain,” Faith said, not letting the man cow her. “Of course we will accede to thy wishes.” She said the last to remind him that they were civilians and therefore free agents.
He glared at them and turned to the colonel. “I hear that you have been ordered to accompany them for their protection in New Orleans. I will expect you to stay with them whenever they are out of their quarters.”
The colonel curtly nodded his assent.
The captain marched away, calling, “Cast off!”
Faith looked to the colonel.
“You women best go to your cabin,” the colonel said as if they were strangers. “When we are well on our way downriver, I will come and get you for your walk on deck.”
Faith bowed her head and led Honoree into the tiny cabin, which had two berths hanging on one wall, leaving just enough floor space for them to stand.
The colonel shut the door behind them.
Hearing his retreating footsteps, Faith resisted the urge to sigh and removed her bonnet. She pushed open the small window and let in a breeze. She sat down on the lower bunk.
Honoree sat beside her. “Well, we’re off.”
Leaving behind the familiar—the military camp that had been their home for months—hit Faith squarely. She blinked away tears. “Yes, we are.”
Honoree drew in a deep breath. “Dear Lord, help us find Shiloh or news of where she is. And keep her safe till we find her.”
Faith squeezed Honoree’s arm in agreement. “I’m going to lie down.” She rose and turned to mount the ladder attached to the bunks.
“No, you don’t. I get the fun berth.”
Faith chuckled and then shook her head. “We are not children.”
“No, but it looks like we’re going to be treated like children here, and naughty children at that.”
“Yes. The captain was not happy to see us.” Nor the colonel.
“As long as Shipmaster Fentress gets us to New Orleans, I can put up with that.” Honoree rose and looked out the window.
Faith stared at the bunk a
nd realized she felt more like pacing than lying down. But the tiny cabin afforded no room to do so. She joined Honoree at the window and stared out at the lush green scenery as the ship throbbed to life and began moving with the current.
As Faith stood there, New Orleans seemed a very long way to go. How was she going to handle the colonel’s reluctant chaperonage? Perhaps she could only endure it. She shouldn’t be surprised that they were at odds. She was an abolitionist and Devlin Knight was a man still caught on the horns of slavery. And a war was no time for an illfated romance that would not prosper even in peacetime.
Dev waited till most of the morning was past, and then he forced himself to go to the ladies’ cabin and call for them. He knocked on the tin-clad door.
Faith opened it.
“I’m here to accompany you on your first turn around the deck.” He tried to say the words free of irritation but did not completely succeed.
Faith donned her bonnet and unlatched a parasol. “I’m afraid Honoree is not a good sailor. She is lying down.” She shut the door behind her and opened the parasol. “I’m ready to walk.”
He did not offer her his arm. They began their circuit of the upper deck.
“This is very different from the riverboats I’ve been on before,” she commented as if the journey were commonplace.
“It is my first time on a gunboat too.”
“It’s a shame to see it fitted for war. Riverboats can be so lovely. I know thee doesn’t want to be here,” she continued without missing a beat. “But I said nothing to the general about thee, certainly no request to have thee ordered to accompany me.”
“I believe you. You know my opinion that you should wait till the war is over. This is a dangerous venture. And I didn’t want to leave my men—”
“Yes, especially since I heard that a Captain Jack Carroll is leading raids against Union outposts.”
“You heard that, did you?” He had too. He let loose a sound of disgust and muttered under his breath.
“What’s wrong?”
He repeated the sound. “He sent me a note.”
“What? How?”
He reached into his inner shirt pocket. The movement caused him a moment of pain. He gasped and bent slightly.
