The sun was getting ready to set. The men had all gotten their suppers. Ruth hadn't gotten the chance to check on Winny and Egypt again, but her aunt and uncle would if they could. She'd told them about the baby, but they had to be cautious because they couldn't be seen going into the woods too often. One never knew who was watching.

Kid was still asleep as she climbed back up into the loft. Using what little daylight remained, she sat under the window and opened her Bible to read, something she hadn't had much time to do as of late to her shame. How amiable are thy tabernacles, O Lord of hosts! My soul longeth, yea, even fainteth for the courts of the Lord: my heart and my flesh crieth out for the living God.

That was exactly how she felt. She'd never longed for the sanctuary of church more, where it could shut out the sights and sounds and horrors of war, so one could solely focus on praising and worshiping God, but even more than that she wanted God's peaceful, loving presence to fill not just her, but the men who were struggling around her: Kid, David, and even Doc Anderson.

She didn't get far into the psalm when Kid sat up with the jerk that came from interrupted sleep, and he was soaked in sweat. She went immediately to his side.

"I had a nightmare," he said when he saw her.

"I figured as much. Want to talk about it?"

He shook his head. "Just remembering getting shot is all." Switching the subject, he said, "I'm really sick, ain't I? You wouldn't be up here otherwise."

"Consumption," she admitted.

He laughed mirthlessly. "That's a death sentence, you know. They send you home to die if you don't die there first. Looks like I won't be seeing another battle. Or much of anything."

"Only God knows how much time you got left, but if you know Him, it don't much matter when you go. You live each day to the fullest, knowing you're right with the Lord."

"You don't even know the things I've done. You don't know nothing about me."

"I know there ain't nothing that can keep you from getting forgiveness except for not getting it."

He laid back down, turning his back to her. "Go away. I don't want to talk about it."

Maybe she should have left him be, but she longed for him to know the Lord, ached for it. She put a hand on his shoulder. "Please, Kid, just ask Him. That's all it takes."

He turned back around mostly to get her off his shoulder if she was a guessing person. "What no child sacrifices?" he asked dryly.

"You think this a joke?" she demanded, temper flaring.

He sat up again to look her in the eyes. "No, ma'am, I don't. But it's not something I care to discuss right now."

"Then when? When you're cold in the ground? When it's too late to do anything about it?"

"Why do you care so much about what happens to my soul? It's my soul."

"Because I care."

"Why?"

"Because I do." In the course of their arguing, they had drawn so close, she could see the puckered scar on his jaw. She wanted to know how he'd gotten it; she wanted to know everything there was to know about him, including how his lips would feel against hers.

She pulled back with that last thought, wondering what had gotten into her. Was that a flicker of disappointment that crossed his face? If she'd lingered, would she have she have gotten the answer to how his lips felt?

"Ruthie, come down here," her uncle called from down below.

"I'm not through with you yet," she warned before descending the ladder.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Kid mumbled.

Hiram motioned her outside. Daylight was gone and only the lantern in his hand lit up the surrounding area thanks to a clouded sky.

"Margie tells me you intend to spend a night with a man up in the loft."

"Nursing a patient sick with consumption. There's a big difference."

"Perhaps, but we'll have to figure something else out. I'm taking the bundles of wood up with the wheat tomorrow and I'll get the wagon over Bull Run Mountain to Negro Mountain where there'll be help and then it's only a day or less away from the Potomac River. Mr. Swanson's going to check in on the corn while I'm gone."

Sounded easy enough, but they would need to be girded in prayer in case someone took a notion to make sure wheat was all that was getting transported. "I can't think of a better plan." She stole a glance up at the loft window, hoping Kid was well and thinking about God.

"You're sweet on him, ain't you?"

She turned back to her uncle with a startled expression. "What?"

"The soldier up in the loft. I know a love struck look when I see one. How does he feel about you?"

She started to protest but then closed her mouth. He was right after all. She was falling in love with Kid Cole. "It don't matter how he feels. I have to lead him to the Lord before I can even consider an us."

"Well, I hope it works out for you, Ruthie. You deserve to be happy. I'll sleep up in the loft tonight. It was bad enough you sleeping up there before, but now I have to insist on taking your place. You go get in bed with your aunt."

She smiled. "Thanks, Uncle Hiram. I appreciate it."

sss

Dr. Anderson had put it off as long as he could, but he'd looked everywhere else. He must have left his bag on the McKenzie farm. He'd have to deal with those, slave-loving, almost-Yankees again.

Everyone was in bed already. The lights were out. Well, that was no matter. He'd left it in the barn. If they hadn't moved it, it'd still be there.

He carefully pulled the door back and crept in. He saw the scuffed. black leather bag hanging on one of the hooks on the wall. He grabbed it and once outside checked that nothing was missing inside. He wouldn't put it past them to monkey with his things.

Everything seemed in order, so he got on top of his horse, but a brief break in the clouds allowed him to spot a button gleaming in the moonlight from the fire pit. He hopped down for a closer inspection. The button had the year 1638 on one side, but what really stood out to him was the abbreviated Mass. on the other side of the golden object.

There was a soldier from Massachusetts somewhere on this property, and there was only one he could think of not wearing a uniform. He'd thought it missing because it was damaged beyond repair in the battle, but it had apparently been burned to hide the man's origins.

Didn't it just figure those mountain people would harbor the enemy? He hadn't trusted them from the start. They'd lived too close to West Virginia, who'd proved themselves to be disloyal to the state. They wouldn't be harboring him for much longer if he had anything to say about it. He had to travel the next county first as he'd promised his daughter that he'd be there during his granddaughter's delivery in case something went bad wrong like it had the last time. He'd just received word that her pains had started, but after she delivered a healthy baby, he was going to report it and that Yankee scum was going under the guard of their boys.

With any luck, they'd hang that infuriating Sister Ruth for being a traitor to the Confederacy.