After asking the postmaster, Ruth found out Dr. Quinn was staying at a local boarding house. The prejudices of the proprietress, Mrs. Bryant, ran high, but her greed ran higher and she was more than willing to charge exorbitant prices to a needy Yankee. The house was simple, maybe even a bit derelict, not the kind of house Dr. Quinn was likely used to, going off her fine clothes, but she doubted any other place would have sheltered her.

Mrs. Bryant let her go up to the doctor's room, not one to pry into her boarder's private lives as long as the rent was coming in.

Dr. Quinn recognized her immediately. "I thought I was clear I couldn't help you. I gave my word I wouldn't aid or abet the enemy in any way."

"What about your oath as a doctor? To heal the sick? You willing to let somebody die when you can stop it? Or what about your oath as a Christian to love your enemies? Seems to me God ought to come before country."

She didn't say anything right away, but finally she sighed. "I suppose you're right about that. I can't in good conscience let someone die. Let me grab my bag."

Ruth smiled in relief. She hadn't expected it to be so easy. The Lord was in this.

sss

As Michaela followed the dark-haired, Southern woman, her stomach got a little queasy. Why was she leading her into the woods and not towards the house? What if this was some sort of trap? She had a scalpel in her bag that she could use for defense, but it would be poor defense against a gun. Maybe she was letting her imagination run away from her. Possibly someone had fallen from a tree or had an accident cutting one down. She never had asked the nature of the patient's need. "Where are we going?"

"Shh. We need to stay quiet. It won't be much farther," she said in a whisper, "and then you'll understand."

She didn't sound as if she were up to something dastardly and the lady carried a Bible. How much harm could or would she do? She forced herself to relax but only a little.

She watched in amazement as Sister Ruth opened a door that revealed a dark hole to a former cellar. She realized she must be insane to follow her into it. Why in heaven's name would a soldier be down here?

Only it wasn't a soldier. It was a woman in labor, a black woman. She could see that much from the lone candle that was burning. She didn't have too much time to consider that fact. The soon-to-be mother was in obvious distress.

"This is Winny. I brought a couple more candles, so's you could see what you're doing," Sister Ruth said, pulling them from a basket she'd carried and lighting them.

While Sister Ruth prayed, a hand raised and her lips moving incessantly, Michaela worked. She had to see if she could see the baby and when she didn't, she felt. It was as she'd feared, a breached birth. She had to right the baby, so she pressed gently on Winny's abdomen. When that didn't work, she looked again. She could see the baby's feet this time. The baby was coming feet first, ready or not.

She opened her medical bag and took out the forceps. She encouraged the woman to push while Sister Ruth held the mother's hand. The baby had difficulty and stopped coming once the shoulders had made their way out as often happened. With some gentle tugging of the forceps though, the baby entered the world in a room not much brighter than the womb.

There were no cries and the mother began to panic because of it and cry herself while Sister Ruth pleaded with the Almighty, but the baby was taking breaths of air and from a quick examination seemed healthy despite the difficult birth. "It's okay. You have a healthy baby boy," she announced.

Sister Ruth brought an old but clean petticoat from the basket to wrap the baby in, explaining that all the blankets and then some were in use. The mother didn't seem to care that her baby wouldn't have a blanket. In fact, she seemed touched by the petticoat.

Michaela cleaned the baby off, using the pitcher of water and a corner of the petticoat and then swaddled the baby in the clean part before finally handing him to his mother.

She took a quick perusal of the mother's health and her eyes locked onto her bare feet. "Her feet are covered in blisters and bleeding," she whispered to Sister Ruth, who had moved beside her.

"Runaway slaves have to do a lot of the running on their own. There aren't many places that will take them in. They're blessed to find one. No doubt about it. God brought us all together at this moment in time to help each other. I wondered why He didn't allow the faith healing to work when Winny and I both believed in His power to heal and now I know; He was waiting on you."

Michaela was feeling much more kindly disposed towards the woman despite the strangeness of the last comment. There was something about the camaraderie that was born during a crisis. This woman hadn't been anything like she'd expected and she had to admit she'd been guilty of playing into stereotypes and prejudices. "I certainly felt His presence as that baby was born."

"You know, it's not so unlike a birth over 1800 years ago, where another baby was born into humble circumstances and needed to run away, into Egypt."

"That's going to be his name," Winny said softly. "Egypt."

"What a beautiful choice," Sister Ruth said.

"It is very nice," Michaela agreed as she wrapped Winny's feet in a salve and bandages. "Is there anything else I can do here?" She spoke less of medical things and more of helping her on the road to freedom.

"I don't believe so, sister. She needs to rest a few days, of course, and then my uncle has a plan for getting her to safety."

She still couldn't get over what a kind and colorblind soul Sister Ruth was. "How is it that you have such a sympathy towards their plight? My father raised me to be progressive, and I've been to too many abolitionist meeting not to know the kind of things that go on, but why were you inspired to help slaves?"

"You mean why me, a southerner?"

"I guess I do."

"It's right easy to be a product of our culture and time. But when we focus on the unchanging Word of God and make it our culture, I believe the scales fall from our eyes. And the Bible says there is no slave or free in Jesus Christ. As followers of Christ, we are equal in his sight, beloved children and precious."

"There are some who use the Bible to justify their mistreatment of slaves."

"Men have always tried to twist what the Bible says to fit their wicked desires. They find a verse that suits them and then they take it out of context. They'll answer for their misuse of scripture one day. 'Man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart.'"

She'd never met a woman who made God such a part of her daily life and conversation, but it was perhaps the way it should be. So many complained they had a hard time feeling close to God, she one of them, when they put no effort into the relationship. It seemed she'd heard verses in a sermon about not only mediating on the Word day and night but speaking them inside and outside the home whatever you were doing. This was the fruit of it played out in Sister Ruth, a clearer worldview than many had.

It inspired her to spend more time in the Word herself, and she could begin to clear her own view of the world starting today. "I want to have a look at your men. It's the least I can do. I imagine if you saw a man in Union blue, you wouldn't let it stop you from helping him."

She smiled, teeth gleaming in the candlelight. "No, I wouldn't, and it's funny you should mention that."

"Oh?" Her curiosity was definitely piqued as she closed her medical bag.

She stood. "Come with me and you'll see what I mean."