“There’ll be no more fighting?”
“Not now, anyway. It was the worst defeat the Army of the United States has ever suffered in the Indian wars. There’s no force to fight with now.” He bit his lip nervously. “We’ll go after them again, of course.” With a sigh he turned and left, speaking to the patients along the way.
Faith felt it was time to return to the mission, so she said goodbye to Eileen and Laurie and the men at the hospital, stopping to bid farewell to Grayson last. By now he was well enough to sit in a chair with his leg propped up.
When she told him she was leaving, he said, “Wish you didn’t have to go back out there, Faith. It’s dangerous.”
Faith smiled. “Living is dangerous, Spence. You’ve discovered that. Come and see me when you’re able.”
He stared at her, but knew her offer was purely an invitation from a friend. “Well, I will!” he responded lightly. “Maybe I’ll even let you pray for me to get converted.”
“I haven’t waited for permission,” she said.
He watched her leave and said softly to himself, “She’s a fine woman!”
****
The attitude of the Indians had changed, Faith soon realized when she arrived at the mission. The news of the defeat of Custer and the destruction of the Seventh Cavalry had sent shock waves through the white world, but it had done something to the Sioux as well. None of them mentioned the battle to Faith, but she perceived their pride. They had been lied to and stripped of their lands so often by the white man that it was inevitable they should feel so.
Faith said nothing to them about the battle, but went about her work as before. For a week she kept to herself, not going to town even once. On Wednesday Nick Owens came out with supplies. When he left, he said, “The regiment came back this morning—what was left of them, anyway.” He gave her a curious look, then asked, “You ever feel like giving up on this work, Faith?”
She perceived he was testing her in some way. “I’ll give up when God gives up, Nick.”
Owens grinned. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Well, I’ll see you Sunday.”
Faith watched him go, wondering why she hadn’t asked him about Winslow. She’d wanted to but hoped the merchant would bring up the subject. Irritated, she pushed the thought out of her mind—or tried to.
Saturday she worked hard all day and then sat down to a cold supper. In the evening she worked for two hours on her vocabulary list in the Sioux language. She was still struggling with the grammar and trying to make the spitting noises that were woven into the system. “Talk as if you’ve got your mouth full of mush,” Winslow had advised her once. As she recalled his words, she wondered if she would see him and Laurie soon.
She grew so engrossed in her study that at the sound of a hard knock on the door, she leaped to her feet, a thread of fear cutting off her breath. She hadn’t heard a horse approach and rushed to get the loaded pistol Owens had insisted she keep. “Just show it—or fire into the air. Sometimes that’s all it takes,” he’d said.
Holding the weapon awkwardly, she carefully opened the door a crack and stepped back, saying, “Who is it?”
Winslow poked his head around the door and grinned. “Don’t shoot, lady. I’m not dangerous.”
“Tom!” Faith cried, shocked at the emotion she felt as she looked at him. She had not known until that moment how much she’d missed him. To cover her feelings, she put an angry look on her face. “You’re going to get shot if you don’t call out when you ride up in the middle of the night.”
Winslow was lean as a wolf, she saw as she replaced the revolver. His eyes, black against his tanned face, looked worn and tired. Fatigue and strain had taken its toll.
He was looking at her so intently she said nervously, “I’ve got coffee, Tom.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t ride all the way out here to drink coffee.” He was smiling at her, and added, “I’ve missed you, Faith.”
“When did you get in?”
“Just yesterday.”
“It was a terrible thing, wasn’t it?”
“War always is.”
“Why did you risk your life to save Spence?” she blurted out. “He told me about it.”
He shifted his weight. “Well, it’s a long story. Maybe I will have that coffee.” He sat down, not taking his eyes off her as she poured the coffee and took the chair across from him.
He recounted the battle and eventually the part where he’d seen Spence about to get killed. “When I saw him about to die, I guess I was glad. But then something happened.” His voice was soft. “I finally saw what you’ve seen all the time, Faith—that for a man to spend his life hating someone is really sad.” He took a few sips of coffee, then went on. “Going to help him wasn’t a logical thing, though. I didn’t even stop to think about it. Just went after him, and some of the boys helped me get him to the top of the hill.”
“It was a wonderful thing you did, Tom,” she said. “It would have been even if you’d liked the man—but to do it for someone you’ve hated, that’s greater!”
He squirmed uneasily, and she knew he didn’t like talking about it, but she could not help asking, “Did you go see him when you got back?”
“Yes. It was a peculiar thing, Faith,” he said with amazement in his voice. “It was as if he was another man, somehow.” He smiled then, the smile softening his expression. “Poor Grayson! He had a hard time when I stopped by. Tried to thank me, and I guess it was the hardest thing he ever did! But he did something I never thought Spence Grayson would do. He asked me to forgive him for what he’d done to me and my wife years ago.”
“And what did you do, Tom?”
He shrugged. “I told him to forget it as far as I was concerned.” He looked at her, adding, “Funny, it was at the center of my life for ten years—and now it’s gone.”
“I’m so glad, Tom!”
They talked so long that Faith got up to get some water to quench their thirst, and found the water pail empty. “I’ll get some fresh water.”
He followed her out to the well. “Let me do that,” he offered and drew a bucket of fresh water. Looking at it, he said, “We needed this on the hill. Never was so thirsty in my life.”
It was a clear night, the sky starry and the moon full. As silence fell, an awkwardness settled upon them.
Suddenly Winslow said, “I’m not taking the commission I came for, Faith.”
“I thought it might be like that,” she replied intuitively. She hesitated for a moment, weighing her next words, then said, “Eileen would never be happy married to an army officer.”
“No, she wouldn’t,” Winslow agreed. He lifted his head, listening to the faint cry of a coyote. “That’s why she’s not going to marry one.”
Faith felt a quick stab of loss, but kept her voice even. “I suppose you two have plans, then?”
Winslow shrugged. “Her plans are to marry Larry Dutton.”
Faith thought she had misunderstood him. “What did you say, Tom?”
Winslow laughed, easily and without strain. “Larry came to me almost before I got out of the saddle. He’s a small fellow, but I could see he was ready for trouble. He took me off to one side and said, ‘Tom, you’re my friend, but you probably won’t be in two minutes.’ He went on to tell me that I wasn’t going to ruin Eileen’s life, that he loved her and would marry her if he had to kidnap her!”
“Tom! He didn’t say that!”
“Sure did, and when I went to Eileen, she said pretty much the same thing.” He mused over the memory, then said, “Oh, she didn’t even mention Larry. Just said that she could never marry me, that she wasn’t cut out to be an officer’s wife. Said, too, that I was just marrying her to get a baby-sitter for Laurie.”
“I can’t believe she said that,” Faith murmured.
“Well, she was right, pretty much,” Winslow said slowly. “Eileen’s a fine woman, but she deserves a whole man, not just part of one.”
Faith tried to grasp what he
was saying. Finally she asked, “Was it really that way with you, Tom?”
“I haven’t been a whole man for a long time, Faith. I would have brought Eileen very little love—and a lot of bitterness.” He paused. “Faith,” he said, “I found out something on that hill and—”
He stopped, then told her how he had called on God. “It’s been different, Faith. I was like a stream all polluted and muddy. Now everything seems clear. I’m at peace for the first time in years.”
“I’m so happy for you, Tom!” Tears had welled up in her eyes, and she dashed them away. Then his comment about the commission popped into her mind, and she asked, “Did you say you weren’t going to stay in the army?”
He nodded slowly. “It was the only thing I could think of to bring some kind of order into my life. I needed it for Laurie. But things are different now.” Sadness edged his voice. “The Indians have had a hard time, Faith, but they’re in for a worse one. The whole country is angry, and General Miles has been named to command. He’s a hard man, and he’ll hit the Indians with a huge force. I don’t want any part of it. I’ve already talked to General Terry, and he gave me a discharge.”
“But what will you do, Tom?”
Suddenly he grasped her arms firmly and said, “I have a plan.”
His touch made her tremble and she cried, “Tom, let go of me!”
His grip tightened. “I can’t do that, Faith,” he murmured. “I’ll never let go of you!”
“Tom—!” His lips muffled her words as he kissed her. She struggled, but he put his arms around her, pulling her against him. A turbulent eddy enveloped them as she yielded to his embrace. She had longed for love, but had kept that ache locked away. Now the pressure of his lips and the insistence of his kiss brought her needs to the surface. His embrace was demanding and strong, but there was a sweetness in her that returned his kiss willingly.
He finally released her, lifted her hand and kissed it, saying in wonder, “I’d forgotten what it was like—loving someone like this!”
“Tom—we’ve got to think—” Faith stammered. “We don’t even know—”
“I know I love you,” he broke in. “The short time I’ve known you, I’ve watched you, seen your strength, your love for God and people. I want to know Him like that.” He paused, stroked her cheek lovingly, smiled, and said, “Maybe I’ll be a missionary like you, and like my grandfather. You can be sure I don’t want just a baby-sitter for Laurie!”
Faith looked up at him, her eyes bright. “I’m not sure—”
“You only have to be sure of one thing,” he said. “The rest will be all right.”
“What must I be sure of?” she whispered.
He reached out, kissed her lightly, then said quietly, “That you love me.”
Faith stood there, loving the touch of his hand.
“Yes, Tom!” she said softly. “I’m very sure of that!”
She was happy, and with a sigh, snuggled into his chest as his arms closed around her. They stood there, holding each other, each taking and receiving. Then she lifted her lips to his again and said, “I thought we had lost each other.” And she knew it would always be this way between them—this strength, this closeness . . . yet never enough of it.
GILBERT MORRIS spent ten years as a pastor before becoming Professor of English at Ouachita Baptist University in Arkansas and earning a Ph.D. at the University of Arkansas. A prolific writer, he has had over 25 scholarly articles and 200 poems published in various periodicals and over the past years has had more than 180 novels published. His family includes three grown children, and he and his wife live in Gulf Shores, Alabama.
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