The Crossed Sabres (40 page)

“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.