Northern Star (13 page)

Suddenly the blade met its mark. The thin rope snapped, freeing her arm. Perry twisted the remaining rope from her wrist as if it were a live snake curling around her flesh. She crawled to the door and opened the latch. As she fell out of the carriage she made no attempt to brace herself. Her only thought was to be free.

Powerful arms broke her fall, pulling her up against a massive chest. She pushed away for a moment before a low, educated voice whispered, “Hold on, Miss Perry, and I’ll get you out of here.”

Perry held as tightly as a baby possum to its mother. She was aware of Abram mounting a horse and riding. Vaguely she saw a drunken mob fighting in the street, then she closed her eyes and trusted in Abram.

Her mind floated above her pain. She was drifting in a balloon with Hunter at her side. They were safe and happy. His face was a warm, golden tan and his jacket fit snugly over his broad shoulders. His gray eyes looked down with love that could only have been meant for her.

Molly’s voice brought Perry back to earth. “My Lord, honey, what happened?”

Abram lowered her to Molly’s arms. “I have to make sure I wasn’t followed. Can you see to her?”

Molly pulled Perry into the house and began mothering her like a hen with only one chick. “I knew I should have stayed and walked you home. There’s all amount of drunken meanness out there this time of night.”

Perry allowed herself to be undressed. Molly carefully wrapped her ribs, swearing continuously against whoever might have done such a thing.

An hour later, when they heard a horse, both women reached for a gun from the box of dueling pistols. Perry crossed the floor and looked outside, then turned to Molly. “It’s all right. It’s only Abram. I’ll talk with him.”

Molly stood guard as Perry stepped into the dark garden.

“Thank you,” she whispered, hugging her side to still the throbbing pain of her injuries.

“Are you all right?”

“I feel as though I’ve been kicked by a mule, but Molly says I’ll heal in a few weeks. How did you find me?”

“I followed Captain Williams out of the hospital, but I couldn’t catch the carriage until that bunch of drunken soldiers blocked the street.” Abram patted his horse. “I’ve let you down. I promised to get you to safety, and I almost got you killed.”

“It wasn’t your fault, but I must get away as soon as
possible.” She knew Abram would think it was because of Wade, but she couldn’t bear to stay, knowing Hunter was with another woman.

“Can you travel?”

“Yes,” she answered, realizing that if she didn’t, Wade might find her.

“I’ll arrange passage for you on a ship leaving at dawn. After you’ve left, I’ll wire a message to your grandfather that should reach him long before you do. If they can’t get to him, Hunter’s grandparents will come for you and drive you out to his place.”

“I’ll be ready before dawn.”

Leather creaked as Abram mounted his horse. “I’ll send a carriage for you.”

She watched his outline disappear into the blackness beyond the garden. He believed her safe tonight, or Abram never would have left; but Perry wondered if her knife and the two guns would be enough in the future.

Clouds hung heavy in the April sky, curtaining the morning in soft gray mist as Perry boarded the small sailing ship called the
West Wind.
The sailboat was beautifully designed for speed, but today it seemed cumbersome with all the people and supplies loaded on deck. Folks stood in small groups saying their good-byes as men tried to move around them to load everything into place.

Abram had made all the arrangements for her trip to her grandfather’s home in North Carolina. He had promised her brother he would get her back, and he’d achieved a miracle by getting her a ticket when there must have been hundreds of people wishing to go south now that the war was over.

Perry turned to hug Molly one last time. “I’ll write,” she promised.

Molly was fighting tears that threatened to fall. “I’ll treasure every letter. There’s a priest downtown that will read them to me.”

“Take care of yourself.”

Molly patted Perry’s arm. “I’ll be fine, honey. I’m as tough as an old boot left out all winter. It’s a wisp of a woman like yourself we got to worry about.”

“Thanks for all you’ve done for me.” Perry knew she’d
found a friend she’d think of often for the rest of her life, even if they never saw each other again.

“Weren’t nothing. Now you run along.” Molly wrapped her shawl tighter around her thick waist and hurried off. Her hand waved behind her, but she didn’t look back at Perry as her other hand kept wiping her face.

Perry stared after her until someone on board the
West Wind
called her name. She twisted and searched the crowd, her fingers sliding into her pocket and encircling her knife. Finally she spotted Abram’s large bulk unfolding from a seat among the supplies. As she slowly walked toward him he took long, steady steps forward.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Miss Perry. I planned to speak to you before you left the hospital,” he said with an air of formality.

“Yes, w-well,” Perry said, stammering, “I didn’t know Captain Hunter’s fiancée was arriving.” Perry avoided Abram’s eyes. She didn’t want him to know that she was heartbroken by the thought of Hunter’s engagement. Even the physical pain she’d suffered at Wade’s hands was not as great as the ache in her heart. She’d thought about it most of the night. It wouldn’t be fair for her to come between two people who were planning to marry.

“Miss Perry…” Abram paused. “That woman you saw—”

Perry interrupted. “It’s all right, Abram. Hunter doesn’t even know me. Don’t worry about it.”

Abram continued. “That woman has known Hunter all his life. He has grown up with everyone always thinking they’d marry.” Abram stopped, searching for. the right words. “I wanted to tell you that he thinks you are part of a dream. He can’t stop talking about the beautiful woman in his dreams. I’d like to tell him who you are, but I gave my word to you.”

“No, Abram,” Perry said. “Positively not!” It would be better if she remained part of a dream. He was engaged to be married to someone he loved. Even if she did tell
Hunter and he broke his engagement, there would still be Wade. No. It was better that she disappeared.

Abram’s face showed a great sadness Perry didn’t understand. Placing her hand on his arm, she added earnestly, “Thank you for all you’ve done for me, Abram. I wish there was some way I could repay all your kindness.”

Abram shuffled his huge feet. “If you would, Miss Perry, I’d greatly appreciate your taking a few papers to Hunter’s grandfather.”

“I’d be happy to.” She looked at him now, wondering why he’d been so hesitant to ask such a small favor.

Abram’s face was sweaty, as if he’d been working in the hot sun. “Promise you won’t give them to anyone except John Williams. If you can’t get them to him, burn them. Promise!”

She couldn’t imagine why a grandson’s letters could have been so vital. “I promise,” she whispered.

Abram wiped his forehead. “And don’t let anyone see you give them to him. No one!”

“No one,” she repeated as she stuffed the envelope into her purse.

“Thank you, Miss Perry,” Abram said. “If you ever need anything, remember we owe you a great debt.”

Perry could tell from the way Abram shifted that he was a landlubber, in a great hurry to be off the ship before they sailed. “I’ll be fine, Abram, I’ll be home soon.” Perry turned from him and moved below. She could hear the crew getting the ship under way. She couldn’t watch with the others on deck as the ship left the city…as she left the terror of Wade Williams…as she left Hunter forever.

*   *   *

The ship was rocking by the time Perry reached the plain little cabin where her trunk had been deposited. Somehow all that had happened since she’d left Ravenwood seemed unreal. Maybe Hunter was right, she
thought. Reaching up to her throat, she tugged at Hunter’s chain around her neck. She held the small medallion tightly in her fist. If it were not for this necklace and the thin scar along her left palm, Hunter could have been only a dream.

Perry spent the days aboard the ship in a thoughtful mood. She took her meals alone in her cabin and walked on deck only a few times each day. The other travelers were a mixture of Northern and Southern families who seemed content to stay within their own small groups. The war might be over, but bitter feelings died hard. No one on board, including the captain, talked to her. She could feel their eyes watching her as she walked on deck, but she kept to herself. The ship was carrying her from one way of life to another. The South she’d known was dead. When she returned home, it would be to a new era, and Perry knew she must face the change.

*   *   *

Three days later Perry stood alone on the sandy beach with her one small trunk beside her. She guessed she was over the Virginia line into North Carolina as she watched the ship pass out of sight beyond the rocks. Only a few passengers had even been curious enough to come on deck when she’d left. They all had their own lives and destinations to think about.

Perry felt abandoned, even though the captain of the
West Wind
assured her this was the place Abram had instructed she be left. The captain explained how the dock must have been blown up to prevent Confederate shipments. Before the war, ships often stopped here to pick up cotton from the local plantations.

He’d set her ashore and rowed back to his ship without giving her another thought. A vacant road stretched ahead of her, a wooded area spilling toward the water, now behind her. As she stood alone, Perry wondered if something could have gone wrong and her grandfather hadn’t been notified of her coming. What if he knew and did not want to see her?

Ignoring the ache in her side, Perry lifted her trunk with one hand and her skirt with the other. She moved onto the road. There was nothing to do but walk. According to the captain, her grandfather’s farm was ten to fifteen miles due west. She could walk every step if she had to.

Before her slippers were even dirty, Perry lifted her head to see a buggy approaching far off in the distance. At first she was overjoyed, then she realized she knew neither of the elderly people moving toward her.

The old buggy stopped a few feet from her. An aging man slowly climbed down, unfolding his body with the care one might use opening yellowed paper. He was tall and thin, his white hair combed neatly back away from his tan face. “Are you Perry McLain, miss?” he asked, then laughed. “Well, of course you are. Who else would be standing out on this abandoned road?” His rich laughter spread to the lady in the buggy.

Perry nodded and found herself unable to speak as she stared into the old man’s gray eyes. It was as though forty years had gone by and an aging Hunter stood before her.

“I’m John Williams, Miss Perry. I live a few miles northwest. My grandson, Hunter, sent me a message to get in touch with your grandfather. I’m sorry to say, my man reported that your grandfather is ill. My wife and I would be honored if you’d allow us to drive you to his home.” His thin lips spread into a wide smile that couldn’t have been anything but honest. He lifted her trunk into the buggy. Perry didn’t miss the strength in his aging frame.

“This is my wife, Mary.” John Williams winked at the small woman sitting in the buggy.

She was short and plump, with eyes that danced in her wrinkled face. Her voice was musical as she spoke. “Nice to meet you, Miss Perry. We don’t see many pretty young ladies in the country. Now you climb right in beside me so we can talk.”

Within an hour Perry felt she had known the Williamses
for years. They were warm, friendly Southern people with the skill to make her feel at home. They were both in their late sixties and in good health. John attributed this totally to his wife’s great cooking. John Williams had retired and sold most of his farmland three years before the war. Though they felt the war deeply, in their isolated home they had seen very little fighting.

Mary Williams asked, “Do you know our grandson well, Miss Perry?”

“No, ma’am,” Perry lied. “Abram, his friend, probably sent you the message. I only met them a week ago.”

“Abram. I remember Hunter writing of a man by that name. He’s a self-educated black who lives with Hunter.” As Perry nodded, Mary continued, “My dear, we may sound curious, but we are starved for news of our grandson. We haven’t seen him since he was a boy, and very few letters have reached us during the war.”

Perry smiled. “I’ll tell you what I know of him. He was a balloon surveyor in the Union Army, with Abram at his side. I understand there were only four such balloons in use.”

John Williams interrupted and said, “Hunter always did like the adventurous life.

“You know, the South had one of them air balloons,” John continued as he tapped his chin with his index finger. “We built a balloon out of ladies’ old ball gowns, we did. I think it was named the
Silk Dress.
Never flew that I know of. It was on its way to the front line on the tugboat
Teaser.
The boat ran aground on a sandbar in the James River. That ironclad
Monitor
finished them off, as I remember.”

Mary Williams spoke up. “John, please, Miss Perry was telling us about Hunter.” Turning to Perry, she said, “You’ll have to excuse my John, he always remembers details. When Hunter was a boy with us, he and John had such fun playing games to see who could remember the most about this or that.”

Perry wiped the perspiration from her forehead. “I guess a mind for detail would be an asset to a surveyor.”

Mary’s head bobbled up and down. “Right. See, John, Hunter inherited more than your gray eyes. Perry tell us what Hunter looks like now that he’s full grown.”

“He’s tall and slim with blond curly hair, and you’re right: He has the most wonderful gray eyes.” Perry paused to look at John. She was about to say Hunter looked much like a younger John Williams. However, turning toward them, she realized they were both smiling at her.

Perry’s face reddened. They must think her a silly, moonstruck schoolgirl.