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.
Two strangers were with Hunter and Abram. One was unhitching the team while his companion held a rifle point-blank at Hunter's chest. Their dress told Perry they were probably two of the thousands of men who had grown sick of fighting and deserted. They were men without a cause, without a country. Their dirty blue uniforms were stained with the blood of others and the dust of a hundred miles of marching.
Searching the small camp for Abram, she finally spotted his legs on the far side of the wagon. The men had tied him to the wagon wheel. Judging from the fresh blood on both deserters' faces, Abram hadn't been bound without a fight.
The deserter nearest Hunter pushed the rifle barrel into Hunter's gut and said, "Now, Captain, 'pears you're bein' sensible. We ain't meanin' to hurt you or your man, but we're powerful tired of walkin' and thought we'd borrow your horses." He flashed a smile at his partner, who was approaching with both horses. "This blackie of yours must think somethin' of you. Only thing that kept him from breakin' both of us in half was my pokin' this gun in your gut. So I suppose you'll return the favor and sit real still while we go through your supplies."
She could only see the back of Hunter's head, yet she noticed he held it high.
"Now, since you were real neighborly in offerin' us a ride when we strolled up," the deserter continued, "Tim and me's gonna leave you some grub and the wagqn. Not that it'll do you much good without horses. At least you got your life."
Abram's low voice cut the air. "Unless you leave us one horse, the captain won't live. He's been hurt bad."
Hunter's voice was ice cold. "Forget it, Abram. They'll not reason, and we'll not ask anything from them."
Perry heard no fear or panic in Hunter's voice, only a deadly calculated calm. She could tell from his tone that he was a man who set his standards and would never beg. Even though he was very near death, he wouldn't lower himself to plead with these men.
The stranger continued, "How right you are about that, Captain. Why should we ride double? We're in a bit of a hurry. Might as well be shot for stealing two horses as one." Both robbers laughed.
Perry listened to their talk as she lowered to her stomach and crawled to the back of the wagon. She had to do something immediately or they would be stranded. She had to reach the wagon and slide under. Her only hope was to get to Abram.
As Perry crawled forward, rocks scraped her arms and legs through her rough clothes. The sun was at her back, so it would be in the strangers' eyes should they chance to look in her direction. Without a sound Perry rolled onto the road and slid under the wagon. Inching her way, she crept toward Abram's back as it rested against the wheel.
The two intruders were discussing what they should take. She could see their legs only a few feet away as she slid behind Abram's bulk. Perry touched his shoulder softly to indicate her presence. She felt his muscles tense, yet he made no move. Frantically she examined the rope, but all the knots were tied out of her reach. She rummaged in her pockets for her knife.
Finding her weapon, Perry's fingers molded around its smooth handle as she removed it from her baggy pocket. Jerking the knife from its concealment, she rapidly opened it and applied the small sharp blade to the thick rope. The two men were mounting their stolen horses and panic seized her. Frantic now at her labor, she placed her hand firmly behind the rope to steady her work. With all her strength she slid the silver blade back and forth across the coarse rope.
Suddenly the knife slashed free through the rope and dug into Perry's palm. A crimson line formed across her hand as she heard Abram jerk free. Relief and pain struck her as one. Tears clouded her vision, making the scene above her more a dream than reality.
Abram bounded in smooth pantherlike strides toward both men. They were busy loading the horses down with the stolen provisions and were unprepared to face an attack. Abram managed to land a heavy blow upon each before either could react. The two thin soldiers were no match for this angry mountain of muscle. He knocked the rifle from one intruder's arms and sent it crashing among the rocks.