by Al Lacy
OTHER BOOKS BY AL LACY
Angel of Mercy Series:
A Promise for Breanna (Book One)
Faithful Heart (Book Two)
Journeys of the Stranger series:
Legacy (Book One)
Silent Abduction (Book Two)
Blizzard (Book Three)
Tears of the Sun (Book Four)
Battles of Destiny (Civil War series):
Beloved Enemy (Battle of First Bull Run)
A Heart Divided (Battle of Mobile Bay)
A Promise Unbroken (Battle of Rich Mountain)
Shadowed Memories (Battle of Shiloh)
Joy From Ashes (Battle of Fredericksburg)
For Linda Sears,
one of my most ardent fans.
Her husband tells me she has “Lacy withdrawal”
between publication of my novels.
The Lord bless you, Linda!
PHILIPPIANS 1:3
FOREWORD
As Hippocrates (460-370 BC) is known as the father of organized medicine, Florence Nightingale (1820-1910) is known as the mother of organized nursing. Miss Nightingale’s rise to fame was a result of her nursing care for soldiers of the British Army during the Crimean War in Turkey, 1853-1856. In her thirties at that time, she blazed a trail that led to nursing being recognized as a profession rather than a menial service. She often spoke of nursing as an art as well as a science. She once wrote:
Nursing is an art; and if it is to be made an art, it requires as exclusive a devotion, as hard a preparation, as any painter’s or sculptor’s work; for what is the having to do with dead canvas or cold marble, compared with having to do with the living body? It is one of the Fine Arts; I had almost said, the finest of the Fine Arts.
For centuries the world had no organized training program for nurses. Nurses learned while working with physicians in clinics and in hospitals with experienced nurses, but not until Miss Nightingale founded the Nightingale Training School for Nurses in England in 1860 was there an institution established for the express purpose of training nurses.
The aims of her school were to train hospital nurses, clinic nurses, and visiting nurses who worked in private homes with the sick and the aged. The length of the program was one year, after which the nurses were placed on the staff of a hospital for two years’ further experience.
In the early nineteenth century, the status of nursing in the United States was identical to that in England prior to the influence of Florence Nightingale. Nurses were trained in large city hospitals, but the training was far from sufficient to equip the young women for the task they faced.
Many nurses were trained working at the sides of physicians. The American Medical Association (formed in 1847) recognized these physician-trained nurses, and by recommendation of the instructor-physicians, awarded them special certificates.
At the outbreak of the Civil War, neither the Union nor the Confederacy had an army nurse corps, but after the first battles the need for nurses became imperative. Those recognized physician-trained nurses were few and far between, but they were pushed into service as quickly as possible. Many hospital-trained nurses were sent into service for the military, and a multitude of other women served as untrained volunteers.
What few Civil War records exist estimate that some ten thousand nurses—trained and untrained—were engaged in nursing and field hospital administration during the Civil War.
The most famous of these were Clara Barton, Dorothea Lynde Dix, Mary Ann Bickerdyke, and Louisa May Alcott. Sometime during the bloody four years of the Civil War (620,000 men died), the soldiers dubbed these gallant women “angels of mercy.” Nurses were labeled as such throughout the remainder of the nineteenth century and for the first few years of the twentieth century.
Following the Civil War, interest in training “angels of mercy” was high, and culminated in the almost simultaneous founding of three schools in 1873, which were approved by the American Medical Association. They were: Bellevue Training School in New York City, Connecticut Training School in New Haven, and Boston Training School.
Nursing has been called the oldest of the arts and the youngest of the professions. Although many believe that nursing began with Florence Nightingale, in actuality nursing is as old as medicine itself. Miss Nightingale established the first institution for the express purpose of training nurses, but throughout human history an interdependence of medicine and nursing has produced a unique and exceptional relationship.
The history of nursing clearly demonstrates the most valuable aspect of nursing: care and caring. Caring is the essence of nursing—caring for, caring with, and caring about. But caring alone was not sufficient to nurture health, properly relieve the sick, injured, and wounded, or overcome disease. The development of nursing depended on two additional ingredients: knowledge and skill. Thus the heart, the head, and the hands were united to provide the necessary foundation for nursing to become both an art and a science.
In my creation of Breanna Baylor, I have sought to give my readers a tender, loving, compassionate young Christian woman with the heart, head, and hands of the model nurse who fulfills a need in her century, and would fill it in this century if she lived today.
It is my earnest desire that Breanna—our angel of mercy—will inspire all of her readers with the courage and compassion she portrays.
PROLOGUE
Since the Angel of Mercy series is a spinoff of Questar Publishers’s Journeys of the Stranger series, and since Faithful Heart is the second book of the Angel series, let me lay a brief foundation for our new readers.
In Legacy, the first book of the Stranger series, the mysterious John Stranger met and fell in love with nurse Breanna Baylor. Breanna found herself falling in love with John also, but because she had been jilted in the past by a man named Frank Miller only days before their wedding day, she feared being hurt again and sent John out of her life.
Loving Breanna as he did, John gave in to her wishes. But he told her that though she would not see him, he would be near at times to watch over her, and that she would never be out of his heart. When he rode away from her that day in Wichita, Kansas, Breanna knew before he passed from her sight that she had made an awful mistake. She was desperately in love with him … but it was too late. He was out of earshot. She could not call him back.
In the weeks and months that followed (through the rest of Legacy, Silent Abduction, and Blizzard), John Stranger was near when Breanna faced danger and death. He delivered her from danger each time, and more than once saved her life, all without the two of them exchanging words.
Breanna was eager to tell John that she had made a horrible mistake by sending him out of her life and that she loved him with all her heart. She prayed earnestly that the Lord would bring John back so she could talk to him, but circumstances prevailed, keeping it from happening.
Then in A Promise for Breanna, the first book in the Angel of Mercy series, God in His own time and His own way brought them together. Breanna had experienced a recurring dream in which John had come riding across the rugged land at sunset to meet her at a cabin in the foothills of the Colorado Rockies. The dream had always ended just as she was pouring out her heart to John and asking his forgiveness for sending him out of her life.
Breanna was aboard a wagon train in Wyoming, headed for California. Frank Miller was following the train, intending to kill her. Several days previously, Lorraine Miller had been shot accidentally by Frank in South Pass City. Breanna was there filling in as town physician and had performed surgery on Lorraine.
In spite of Breanna’s efforts, Lorraine died on the operating table. Frank believed Breanna could have saved her, but let Lorraine die to get back at him for jilting her. He was now bent on revenge. At the same time, John S
tranger was riding toward the wagon train to look in on Breanna, though as usual, he would remain out of her sight.
A serious problem had developed for Breanna. Red Claw, a Snake Indian chief, had set his wanton eyes on her. Red Claw and his warriors had continually attacked the wagon train, and were still a threat. More than anything, Red Claw wanted to capture Breanna, and made plans to do so. Breanna’s deliverance from Red Claw and her reunion with John Stranger forms the exciting conclusion to Book One of this new series.
John Stranger and Breanna were finally back together. And this time, it was no dream.
1
THE BROAD, SWEEPING VALLEY of forests and grassy meadows was turning from amber to purple as the setting sun dipped behind the distant mountains to the west.
John Stranger picked up the small pistol, put an arm around Breanna Baylor, and directed her toward the mouth of the cave. “Come, Breanna,” he said softly, “let’s get off this rock before darkness falls.”
Breanna looked up at him and smiled. “I wish I could tell you how good it feels to be with you … and how wonderful it is to hear you say my name.”
John chuckled. “I’ve said it a million times in my dreams.”
As they stepped out of the cave, Breanna stiffened. The sight of the dead Snake chief lying with his eyes open, staring emptily toward the darkening sky gave her a chill.
John guided her around Red Claw’s body, saying, “I wonder what went through his mind when he approached the cave and saw you standing there pointing this gun at him.”
“The Derringer belongs to Rip Clayson,” Breanna said. “He told me you traveled with the wagon train for a while when they were in Nebraska.”
“Yes.”
“So you got to know Rip and the others in the train?”
“Not too well. I wasn’t with them all that long before I was called to Fort Boise. Commandant there needed a little help. His men were having some problems getting along.”
“And they knew who to turn to for help. That’s the John Stranger I know.”
“Just doing my duty.”
“Someday I hope to find out more about this duty of yours. Was it duty that brought you here?”
“You brought me here.”
Breanna shook her head in wonderment as they continued down the crude rock “stairs.” “I owe so much to you for all the times you’ve watched out for me, even saving my life more than once.”
“You don’t owe me anything, Breanna Baylor,” he replied, hugging her to his side.
It was almost dark when they reached level ground and John led her to the spot where he had left Ebony. The big black gelding nickered and bobbed his head as they drew near.
“See there?” John said. “Ebony remembers you. The two of us have had many long talks about you.”
Breanna was about to reply when the sound of pounding feet drew her attention. A group of men were coming through the woods from the direction of the wagon train.
“Looks like we’ve got company,” John said. “Probably Rip and some of the men.”
“You all right, Breanna?” Rip Clayson said as he emerged from the deepening shadows.
“Yes, thank the Lord! In more ways than one.”
Curly Wesson, who drove the lead wagon in the train, was at Clayson’s side, with five men on their heels. “Did you shoot that Injun?” the old man said.
“She did,” John said.
“Good!” Curly said. “At least he won’t be worryin’ any more white women!”
The rest of the people were waiting at the edge of the clearing and rejoiced to hear that Breanna was unharmed. They also rejoiced to know that their tormentor was dead.
Fires winked against the darkness within the circle of wagons, and the aroma of hot food filled the cool air. Rip motioned for Carolyne Fulford to come close and introduced her to John Stranger, explaining that Carolyne had survived an Indian attack that wiped out the entire train she had been traveling with. John said he had come upon the train while on the trail.
“I fell in love with her the day we picked her up, John,” Rip said, his arm around Carolyne’s shoulder. “It was definitely love at first sight.”
“For me, too,” Carolyne said. “And Rip has asked me to marry him.”
“Well, wonderful,” grinned Stranger.
“We’re gonna tie the knot when we get to California,” Rip said.
“I’m happy for both of you. And I hope the Lord gives you a passel of children.”
The happy couple smiled at each other in the firelight, then Rip said, “We haven’t told you, John, but we already have one child.”
“You do?” Stranger said.
“It’s a long story, but the simple version is that the baby’s parents were traveling in the wagon train with Carolyne and were killed along with everyone else during the Indian attack. Carolyne was holding the baby the first time I saw her, hiding in the bushes along a creek bank. The baby’s name, by the way, is Breanna. Her parents named her in honor of Nurse Baylor here. I’ll let her tell you that part of the story.”
“It was nothing really,” Breanna said. “The mother was having some complications when the wagon train stopped at South Pass City, and I delivered the little girl by Cesarean section. I hardly thought that was reason enough for them to name their baby after me, but that’s what they did.”
“So we’re going to give the baby our name when we get married,” Carolyne said. “We’ll raise little Breanna Hughes Clayson as if she were our own.”
Stranger grinned. “I commend you both.” Then turning to Breanna, he said, “Isn’t a Cesarean section something a well-trained physician does?”
“Ordinarily,” she replied quietly.
John’s grin broadened. “Well, I’m plenty proud of you, sweetheart.”
Breanna hunched her shoulders. “I just did what had to be done. I have had a little experience in it. I just thank the Lord that precious little baby is with us.”
“I’d like to meet her,” John said.
“She’s asleep right now,” Carolyne told him. “But she’ll be awake sometime after supper. You can meet her then.”
John and Breanna ate with Rip, Carolyne, Curly, and wealthy widower Doral Chatsworth. During the meal, Chatsworth explained to Stranger how he offered to pay Breanna to join the wagon train and care for his wife, Hattie, who was ailing. South Pass City’s new doctor had arrived, and Breanna was planning to return to Denver by stagecoach. Breanna had agreed to stay with the train all the way to San Francisco. Chatsworth had also given Breanna enough money to pay for her train ticket from San Francisco to Denver when the journey was completed. Though Hattie had been killed in one of the Snake Indian attacks on the wagon train, Rip had asked Breanna to continue on with them and give care to those who needed it.
“I consented to do so for two reasons, John,” Breanna said. “Mr. Chatsworth had already paid me in full for the entire trip and wouldn’t take any money back. I felt it was only right to do my part by completing the trip. And I’m eager to get to San Francisco because my sister Dottie lives near there. Do you remember me telling you about her when we first met back in Kansas?”
“Vaguely.”
“I haven’t seen her in almost ten years. I’m so excited!”
When the meal was finished, Doral offered to let John sleep in his wagon. John thanked him but said that he preferred to sleep on the ground in his bedroll near the wagon Breanna and Carolyne were sharing.
Suddenly there was a deep rumble on the night air. Rip Clayson rose to his feet by the fire and said, “That’ll be the cavalry coming back.”
Seconds later, the one-hundred-man cavalry unit thundered into the camp, drawing up just outside the circle of wagons. Rip stepped between two of the vehicles with John and Curly at his heels. The rest of the people within the circle pressed close, peering between the wagons at the cavalrymen.
As the man on the lead horse swung from his McClellan saddle, Rip stepped up and said, “My name’
s Ripley Clayson, Captain. I’m wagon master. You certainly put those Snakes on the run.”
“That we did, Mr. Clayson. I don’t think you’ll be having any more trouble from that band of savages.” The officer extended his hand and said, “My name’s Newt Meyer.”
The two men shook hands, then Clayson introduced the captain to John Stranger and Curly Wesson.
“Red Claw wasn’t with the war party,” Meyer continued. “We don’t know what happened to him.”
“We do,” Clayson said. “He’s dead.”
“Dead?”
“That’s right. I’ll explain it to you later. Right now, we’d like to invite you and your men to a hot meal.”
Meyer smiled and pushed his campaign hat to the back of his head. “Well, we’ll just take you up on that!” He turned and called for his men to dismount, telling them they could leave their cold rations in their saddlebags. They were going to get a hot supper.
The men in blue cheered and swung from their mounts. Clayson searched the riders for the man he had sent on horseback to bring the cavalry.
“Captain?”
“Yes, sir?”
“I’m wondering where Wade Moore is.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I should have told you right away. When he arrived at the fort, he wasn’t feeling well. Said he couldn’t ride back with us. Asked that we tell you and his wife that he’d wait at the fort.”
“I hope it’s nothing serious.”
“Pains in his chest. Dr. Laird, our fort physician, says he’s not sure what’s causing them. He’s watching him close. Says it could just be pleurisy, but he’s not sure.”
“Well, I’m glad he made it and sent you and your men. These people have had about all the Indian attacks they can stand. Not only that, but we’re totally out of ammunition. We’ll need to stock up when we get to the fort.”
“We’ve got plenty,” Meyer said.
