Perry felt the wagon lurch forward. Abram's mumbling caught her full attention. "Abram, did you see them?" Perry tried to control the excitement in her voice. "Did you see those ladies?"

Abram let out an uneasy laugh. "Them are no ladies. No ladies at all."

He would have ended the discussion, but Perry persisted. "Did you see the silk? I haven't seen silk like that in years. It was lovely. But their eyes and lips-I've never seen women so made-up. Have you, Abram?" She wiggled in the seat, hoping for another look. The women surely must be as rare as white buffalo.

He seemed reluctant to speak, and when he did, his voice was stern. "They aren't the type of women you should be seeing. They aren't proper ladies. No amount of silk will make them ladies, just like no amount of mud will make you less of one. They're the vultures in a war. They feed off both sides. Don't matter to them who wins, just as long as whoever does has money.''

Perry remembered hearing Noma talk about women who sold themselves for the night. Women who were not respected by any man.

"Abram, are they whores?" she asked.

Abram's eyes darted to her face. "Where'd you learn a word like that?"

"They were, weren't they?" Perry laughed. "I'm not a child. I've heard of such women."

Abram grunted and continued driving the tired team. "My bet is they are worse than any you've ever heard of." He slapped the rump of one horse lightly with the end of the reins as he shook his head, ending the discussion.

Perry checked Hunter. He was sleeping in the wagon bed behind them, his body covered with blankets. He was still very weak. The trip had been hard on him, though he never complained. Perry was glad he would sleep in a hospital tonight, but a part of her would miss being with him.

She studied Hunter's hand as it rested outside his blankets. Heat trailed over her body as she remembered the way his strong fingers had touched her so gently. He'd spoken of longing and needing her, but she knew his strength of character would never accept her. To love her in reality would dishonor him. They were separated by an ocean of war, with her on one side and him on the other. She'd seen the strong sense of honor in his eyes when he'd talked with his cousin in camp, heard it in his voice when the deserters had tried to rob them. If his sense of honor had been strong enough to put him in a war he hated, surely it would make him turn her over for trial.

Perry glanced at Abram. How much of a lady would he think she was if he knew the game she played with Hunter?

Abram slowed before a large square building, void of any style or color. All was quiet around them. This street stood deserted, in sharp contrast to the hustle and bustle only a few blocks away.

As Abram stepped from the wagon he warned, "You better stay in the background while I get Hunter checked in. Wait for me over there on the steps. I'll find you a place to sleep later."

Perry followed Abram's instructions as he disappeared with Hunter into the hospital. She pulled her jacket tightly around her. The night was cool, even for early spring. She huddled in the corner by the steps like a homeless child. Clouds slowly gathered above the chimneys, promising yet another April shower. Tucking her knees beneath her, Perry curled into a ball and melted into the corner shadows. The few people who passed paid her little heed. She closed her eyes in exhausted sleep.

Perry was awakened by a man calling her name. For a moment, location and time had no meaning. She jumped up to find a hospital orderly only a few feet from her. He was a youth not much older than herself with a bored expression permanently tattooed on his face.

"You the boy that came in with Captain Kirkland and that huge blackie?" he barked, annoyed that shed startled him.

"Yeah," Perry answered, trying to lower her voice to match his. She pulled her hat over her face.

"Well, that one called Abram said they'll be a long while. I've been told to offer you somethin' to eat if you're hungry. There's a kitchen, second door on the right. Nobody'll be there this late, but you can eat somethin'. You can sleep on the table there. I told the blackie I'd see about you. I reckon the kitchen quarters are good enough for a rag like you." He snickered, pulling at a few chin hairs that struggled to serve as a beard.

Though Perry was hungry, she could see the boy thought she was a bother. "No, I'm fine right here," she answered. "Go away and let a guy sleep."

The young orderly needed no further encourage-ment. He vanished, leaving Perry behind on the cold steps.

Huddling back into her corner, she tried to get comfortable once again. It must be after midnight, she thought as she longed for a real bed. The cloudy sky hung menacingly above her. Where before only a few clouds gathered, now a stormy mob rumbled, waiting to unleash its rage upon the night. The wind whipped between the buildings, whispering an unwelcome melody.

Perry watched a lone figure in the distance moving toward her, fading in and out of sight as she ran from one circle of yellow light to another. The woman was large, but she moved rapidly, like a beetle scurrying across a busy sidewalk.

As the bundle of woman approached, Perry saw half of her aging face. Gray hair sprouted in all directions from beneath her colorful shawl. One of her hands held her shawl together, while the other hand pushed a scarf to the cheek. As the old lady hurried closer, Perry noticed that the scarf pressed against her face was soaked with blood.

The old woman didn't see Perry as her blood-covered hand opened the entrance door of the hospital and she darted inside. Perry sat frozen in her dark corner. The woman's face was bleeding! Someone-or something-had ripped into her flesh. Perry reminded herself that this was a hospital. Anyone hurt would come to this door. A hundred accidents could have caused such a cut. But what if it hadn't been an accident? What if someone in the shadows had jumped out at the woman? Perry glanced up and down the lonely street and wished she had another place to wait.

Several minutes passed. Perry watched every shadow, waiting for one to take human form, but no one came near. Her head ached from listening for any sound. The hospital door suddenly flung open with a loud pop. The young orderly and the old woman twirled before her like dancers without a pattern to follow. The orderly held the woman's elbow as he hissed into her face. Perry rose to her feet, pressing her back into the building, trying to remain out of their sight. An instant hatred solidified in her veins for anyone who would treat an aging woman so unkindly. Her knuckles whitened into fists with the knowledge that she could do nothing to stop him.

Though he whispered, Perry heard his words. "We've no time to treat the likes of you. There are dying soldiers in here. We have no place for old whores. Be gone with you, Old Molly, before you get blood all over the steps."

With this he shoved the aging woman in disgust. She stumbled backward into Perry's corner, toppling them both onto the sidewalk.

The orderly disappeared and Perry found herself staring into the face of the old creature. Perry saw pain in the woman's eyes, along with something else buried beneath her tears. There was a pride within her, and kindness, as she tried to smile at Perry. Even in the midst of her problems this old lady seemed to feel sorry for Perry, sleeping in a cold corner. Perry watched her try to gather scraps of dignity, along with her shawl, around her.

Standing, Perry clenched the woman's elbow and pulled her up. "May I help you?" Perry asked, seeing the gash on Molly's cheek and neck. The blood oozed out with each pulse beat, spreading into a crimson pool at her collar.

"Thanks, but I just needed someone to treat this cut. I've seen a cut fester and I was afraid. Seems I've come to the wrong hospital, though." Molly tried to smile as she spoke but only succeeded in making blood drip from the cut into her mouth. "I can't read so well and didn't know this were only for soldiers."

Anger mounted in Perry. What if it was a military hospital? Surely the orderly could have spared the time to elean and bandage a cut. He had no right treating anyone as she saw him treat this old woman.

Fire flashed in Perry's eyes, and determination set her chin. "Come with me, ma'am," she ordered as she opened the hospital door. "I'll do what I can for you."

Though reluctant, Molly followed Perry into the hall. At the second door on the right Perry turned where the orderly had said the kitchen would be. She hesitated at the open door as she observed the filth within. Rotting food lay everywhere. Dishes and pots were obviously used over and over without proper cleaning. If a man were not ill upon entering this hospital, he soon would be.

Perry steadied herself before moving forward. The large woman followed in her wake. Perry struck a piece of kindling in the fireplace and lit several stubby candles on the table. She helped Molly onto a stool near the new fire and added another log before speaking. "Stay here, I'll get some bandages." Seeing the concern in the old woman's face, she added, "Don't worry, everything will be fine. I can clean your cut."

Molly's hands were shaking, but she held them tightly in her lap and nodded.

Finding bandages proved easier than Perry had anticipated. Only two doors down from the kitchen was the supply room, its door ajar. She saw no sign of the young orderly. It was probably his good fortune not to have encountered her. She felt she easily could have snapped his head off in her fury. She gathered all the things she needed and returned to the frightened old woman.

Working very carefully, she tried not to inflict any more pain than necessary. She cleaned the blood away and found one deep cut. It looked as if someone had deliberately tried to slice the old woman's face.