"Why, sure, takes more than one little fall from the sky to kill me," Abram said with a laugh. "You know, I figured you were a goner for sure. Didn't anybody ever explain to you that you can't catch a five-hundred-foot grounding wire with your shoulder?"

Perry watched a mischievous sparkle in Hunter's gray eyes. Slowly he whispered, "Well, once I let you out, someone had to stay with the balloon." Both men laughed.

Hunter shook his head. "That was one storm! I should have known better than to try to fly up into it. Of course, I don't remember having much of a choice. Our beloved Captain Williams was making it pretty plain we would go up or be shot as deserters."

The disgust in Hunter's voice as he brought up Captain Williams's name was evident to Perry. Abram glanced her way, as though suddenly remembering her existence. He sobered and said, "Captain Kirkland, this boy saved your life. Near as I can tell, I think you owe him thanks."

Hunter looked at Perry. For an instant bewilderment clouded his face. Then he smiled warmly and glanced at his arm, which Perry was still holding. "Thanks, boy." His voice was friendly and Perry found it thrilling.

"I promise not to hurt myself. You can let go," Hunter laughed.

Self-consciously Perry released his arm and jumped back. She found it hard to think rationally with Hunter's eyes fascinating her so. They seemed to be drawing her like a magnet to him.

"Don't jump, boy, I'm in no condition to hurt you, and I'm not in the habit of hitting someone who saved my life." Hunter studied her. "What's your name?"

She cleared her throat in panic. She had to control her voice enough to sound like a boy. "Perry," she whispered.

"Well, Perry," he continued, "I appreciate what you've done, and I hope I can repay the favor someday."

She liked the way her name sounded in his Northern accent. His smile reflected a reckless side of him, yet his eyes told of a man who could be very caring. This man was dangerous when awake, perhaps more so than Captain Williams. For Hunter's kindness could be disarming and as deadly as Wade's revolver if she wasn't careful.

Abram interrupted her thoughts. "Seems we can repay the favor right now, Hunter. We've got to get this Confederate kid back across the front line."

"What?" Hunter glanced from Abram to Perry.

"Way I see it," Abram continued, "it's the least we can do. The kid crossed lines taking care of you, with you half dead. Even jumped me when he thought I was going to steal your crest last night."

"Is that true, boy?" The look of puzzlement returned briefly to his face.

Perry lowered her eyes and answered, "Well, I figured you had enough problems without somebody stealing from you." Frustration shook her small frame. Why was she allowing this man to affect her so? She was no child to be dumbfounded by a man's gaze. Things far more important than the color of a soldier's eyes were at stake.

"Come here, kid." Hunter reached with his left hand and awkwardly removed the necklace from around his neck. "It took some guts for a half-pint like you to tackle a mountain like Abram." He dropped the chain into Perry's hand. "Take it. It's yours. Not as payment, but as a promise. If ever you need a favor, use this to remind me of the great debt I owe you. No matter what happens, you'll always know I owe you one." Hunter leaned back and drifted into sleep, exhausted by his short conversation.

Abram smiled at her and nodded, giving his seal of approval to Hunter's actions. He turned and began moving toward the door, calling back over his shoulder, "I'll get lunch, you stay with him, boy."

Moving over to a log that served as the only furnishing among the ruins, Perry couldn't stop staring at the gold in her hand. The precious metal caught the sunlight, as bright and shining as the promise it stood for. She hung the chain around her neck, and the gold pressed hotly between her breasts, warming her soul with its presence. Somehow she felt protected by this small round disk.

Hunter slept until the shadows were long into evening. Abram managed to get him to eat a few bites, but Hunter kept requesting more and more water. Perry helped Abram change the bandage and noticed less bleeding than before. While working, she could feel Hunter's eyes watching her, studying her, analyzing each of her movements. She wondered how long, at close range, she could maintain her disguise. She must keep her head low so the old hat would obstruct Hunter's view of her face. Could he be remembering the woman who held him in the loft? Did he think his mind had played a trick on him?

After dark Captain Williams appeared. His uniform was crisp and new, in sharp contrast to the attire of the men he commanded. As he stepped within the walls he instantly began pacing like a caged animal. He was even more fidgety than he'd been the night before. He greeted Hunter and Abram, yet ignored Perry completely. Perry thought she saw a glimpse of disappointment in his face when he noticed Hunter's improvement. Though he was nice-looking, Perry saw a coldness in his gaze, a look of evil, as though the devil walked beside him.

He addressed Hunter. "We must talk. You have to get to Philadelphia as soon as possible. Professor Lowe wants you back at headquarters. Can you move out tonight?"

"No, Captain Williams," Abram interjected. "It's too soon to move him. We'd be risking Hunter's life."

Captain Williams gave Abram a look of disdain. "There are doctors in Philadelphia."

Abram glanced at Hunter for support.

Hunter touched Abram's arm. "I have to get to Professor Lowe quickly, Abram. Wade, find me some clothes." Captain Williams bristled at the order, but Hunter, ignoring him, continued. "Is there any chance of repairing the balloon? Could we fly?"

"No, not by tomorrow. But I've arranged a buckboard that can transport you," Wade replied. "I'll send the balloon as soon as we can get it loaded and shipped by train." Then, to Perry's shock, he headed to the door and added, "Good-bye, Cousin."

Just before he left, Captain Williams glanced at Perry. "Can the kid be trusted?" he snapped. "I can keep him in with the prisoners till you're safely away."

"No!" Abram and Hunter responded in unison. "Perry goes with us," Hunter said in a tone that left no room for argument.

Frustration crossed Captain Williams's face before he shrugged, mumbling, "Balloons… kids… hell of a bother in war." Then to the men he said, "I'll have the wagon ready in one hour." Williams left no time for discussion as he disappeared into the darkness outside the threshold.

Hunter glanced first at Perry, then at Abram, and said, "One hour and we move."

Abram nodded, resigning himself to the trip, and started collecting what they would need.

Perry tried to sit calmly, hiding her overwhelming curiosity. Wade Williams's feathers certainly ruffled when he was in Hunter's presence. What lay between Hunter and

Wade, other than a shared bloodline? Perhaps in time she would know. Right now she had to adjust to the fact that in one hour she would be on her way farther north-with two Yankees.

Chapter 4

The night was foggy and moonless. The three moved out of the Union camp onto a road that faded to invisibility only inches ahead of them. Abram sat alone on the bench seat, straining every muscle, alert to any danger that might spring out of the darkness. Hunter lay cradled among blankets and supplies, a new Union jacket folded over him. Perry rested against the sideboard as she sat curled up in the back of the wagon, her eyes fixed on Hunter. She could see the pain in his face each time the wagon swayed from side to side and wondered if he would survive yet another move.

Captain Williams had made certain everything was packed and ready by the time Abram had dressed and carried Hunter the few hundred feet from the ruins to the wagon. The captain seemed to be pushing the mismatched threesome out of the camp. Yet at the same time he carefully saw to every detail. Perry wondered what lay behind the curt captain's attitude and behavior.

Now, with the jostle of the wagon, Hunter's eyes grew heavy and he whispered, "Boy, better hang on. Hate for you to fall out when we hit a bump." Then all she heard was his rhythmic breathing as he slept.

Cuddling among the supplies for warmth, she longed for home. The fighting seemed endless. She'd been only a child when it had erupted, yet the war had hastened her steps into adulthood. When Andrew left, Perry willingly assumed more responsibility at Ravenwood. By the time her father died, she was able to run the large plantation effectively by herself. Now, riding in a wagon with two men she'd only known a few days, she felt far from home and somehow like a child again… as if she no longer had any control over her life.

Perry's thoughts drifted to her grandfather. She remembered very little about him. Though he came to Ravenwood before the war, she'd never been invited to visit him. The old man had always seemed saddened in Perry's presence. She was a painful reminder of his only daughter, who died giving birth to Perry. Andrew jokingly referred to him as "our crazy old grandpa," but she'd seen a lifetime of heartbreak in the wrinkles of his face. If he did behave a bit oddly, perhaps it was because the pain of life had been too great for him.

Now he was Perry's only living kin except Andrew. He was her one hope of refuge. She wondered how she would be received when she turned up penniless on his doorstep. Times were hard, but he was her grandfather. Surely he would take her in. If he was dead, she'd find some way to stay at his home until Andrew found her.

Perry turned her worried eyes skyward in desperation. The gold disk Hunter had given her moved between her breasts, and she felt oddly comforted by its presence. She wrapped her arms around her knees and fell asleep as the wagon rolled northward at a slow clip.

Just after dawn, Abram drew the horses to a halt in front of a small water crossing. Walking around to the back of the wagon, he offered Perry a hand down. "We'll rest the horses a few hours and I'll fix some breakfast." Then, as if reading her mind, he added, "You can probably find a spot to wash up over yonder."

Smiling warmly, Perry rubbed her sleepy eyes and nodded her approval at his suggestion. It had been days since she had washed properly. As she stretched toward the warming sun Perry's spirits lightened.

Before leaving, she turned to check Hunter. He lay sleeping peacefully among the blankets, his disorderly blond hair covering half of his tan face. She pictured what he would look like in his uniform. He was the most handsome man she'd ever seen-even now as he lay dangerously near death. He reminded her of a sleeping prince in a fairy tale. Never could she picture him as a soldier killing others.

"He's all right. Sleep's the best thing for him," Abram said, as if reading her thoughts. "I'll keep an eye on him. You run along."

Grabbing a towel and washcloth from a stash of supplies, she disappeared around the first bend in the shallow stream. She walked along the grassy bank, enjoying the peaceful surroundings. The air smelled clean and new. The stream looked untouched by man and beckoned invitingly. Here there was no war, no killing, no dying. She passed between large rocks that were strewn amid the grass, as if God had deliberately tried to confuse the stream in its path to the sea. Between two such rocks, Perry nestled.

Throwing her hat off, she lay in the velvety grass, stretching her muscles after her long, cramped ride. The soft earth felt wonderful against her back. She watched the white clouds above her as they drifted to nowhere. Languidly she rose and removed her coat, shirt, and boots. The rush of the water called to her and she hastily ripped off her pants, leaving only her light camisole to cover her.

As she pranced knee-deep in the water, a shot rang out from the direction of the wagon, rattling the quiet air and filling Perry with dread. She splashed toward the bank, all thoughts of the bath forgotten, rolled onto the grassy bank, and pulled on the rough pants. Running, she buttoned her shirt and shoved her hair into the hat.

Could it be that Abram had been shooting game? Or was the sound a signal of approaching danger? Fear was a parasite within her eating away all the peace she'd felt only moments before.

Just before turning the last bend, Perry slowed to ensure that her hat completely camouflaged her hair. She froze in mid-stride as unfamiliar voices drifted through the brush.

Perry trod silently, crouching beside the brush, straining her eyes to see between the leaves.