In sudden haste Perry stripped off the rough boy's clothes and climbed into the tub. Molly poured steaming water into the half-filled tub, then moved away to another part of the kitchen. Perry felt she must be in heaven as she soaked. Breathing in the steam rising from the bathwater, she allowed the tension of the week to pass from her.

They ate, Perry wrapped in a blanket and Molly talking continually. She explained how she had a garden and a small henhouse out back that provided all her needs. The food was, as Molly promised, quite good. Perry's spirits rose as a feeling of being warm, clean, and full slowed her blood like wine.

After the meal Molly produced a worn but clean cotton nightgown for Perry. Its size swallowed her, but Perry didn't mind. The feeling of soft cloth touching her body was wonderful after so many days in the rough boy's clothing.

Perry curled in front of the fire and listened to Molly's chatter. Molly told of the fear she'd felt here alone in her huge house. She produced an old, dust-covered box. "I found this when I was rummaging in the attic the other day. I wouldn't know how to use them, but they were so nice, I brought them down, anyway."

She opened the box to reveal a beautiful pair of dueling pistols. Perry examined the guns resting on Molly's ample lap. "My father used to have a pair almost like them. The handles were not so fine, though."

Perry lifted one from the case. "I know how to load and fire them. I could show you tomorrow if you like."

Molly smiled. "That would be grand. I wouldn't want to shoot anyone, but I bet I could scare those vultures away with these." Molly held one in the air and pretended to shoot. "Come on, nephews, I'll shoot your ears off if you come around here bothering me again."

Both women laughed. Molly put the guns away, touching her bandaged cheek gingerly as she returned to her rocking.

"Does it hurt much, Molly?" Perry asked.

"Now, don't you worry about this little cut. I've been cut and beat up many times over the years. Kind of a hazard of the business. I ain't complainin' none. I had some bad times, but looking back, it was an interestin' life. Never got the clap, thank God." Molly rocked as she talked. "Went to a doctor once to be checked. He said I never got it because I must've had some natural immunity. Well, I don't know about that, but I've had a great many men. Maybe I had a few of them natural immunities some time or another.''

Perry laughed into her mug of coffee. Molly may have been a whore, but Perry couldn't help but like her. Perry wondered how the polite ladies who came to tea would have reacted to Molly's topic of conversation.

"Guess we'd better get some sleep. I could stay up all night. I used to all the time. But you look tired. Help me lift one of my mattresses off the bed and we'll move it close to the fire for you."

After making Perry a bed they put all of Molly's bloody clothes and Perry's dirty ones in a pot of water to soak. The aging hands gently rubbed the scarf, as though if this one item of clothing were ruined, it would be a great loss to her.

"Thanks for inviting me to stay." Perry leaned over and kissed the old woman's unharmed cheek.

A tear twisted its way down her wrinkled face. "Was my pleasure," Molly mumbled, and pushed the tear away with the back of her hand.

Perry fought the urge to hold the old woman close and protect her from any more pain in her life. But Perry had her doubts that she could get herself out of the mess she was in, much less protect another. However, she couldn't deny the bond that had solidified between them with a single tear.

Chapter 8

The sound of gunfire rattling the kitchen windows woke Perry with a violent start. She jumped up and ran across the cold floor to stand beside Molly at the window. They could see little, except the garden, but they could hear yelling and the frightening noises of people running frantically. Though the garden stood peaceful in the first light of day, the sounds of chaos raged just beyond the wall, threatening like Gabriel's horn to crumble all barriers.

"Molly, are they fighting in the streets?" Perry shouted over the noise. Panic gripped her. After everything else, was she to be caught in the middle of this war?

Molly's face was gray with fright, but she chewed at her lip with a curiosity no fear could contain. "I'll go find out. Stay here, child," Molly ordered as she wrapped a colorful shawl around her bulk and hurried out the door.

Perry dressed quickly and began braiding her long black hair. If there was fighting, it would be better to be ready to move as soon as Molly returned. Perry's mind was racing, trying to think of somewhere to run. She knew nothing of this town or where safety might lie. If war was in the streets, could she make it the three blocks to Hunter, or would her odds be better if she stayed with Molly? If the South took Philadelphia, Hunter would need her, but if the North won, she might need him. A thousand questions ran through her mind. How could the army be so close? How could they be strong enough to take a city of this size? She needed time to think, but the noise outside made rational thought impossible.

Perry was stuffing her hair into her hat when the door burst open. Molly stumbled in, out of breath and dragging her shawl behind her. Her white gown was covered with splattered mud. Holding a hand over her chest and taking a few gulps of air, she let out a howl that would have put a lumberjack to shame. Then she plopped atop Perry's mattress and shouted, "The war's over, honey. Lee surrendered at Appomattox yester-day."

The war was over! She could go home. She hugged Molly and they danced around the kitchen, both laughing and crying at the same time. Her brother would be coming home! Somehow they would rebuild Ravenwood.

As she danced, Perry realized there was no need for her to hide behind this horrid disguise. She threw her hat across the room and shouted for joy. Both women danced and hugged until they fell back exhausted on the bed. They knew there had been no winner in this war within their nation. The joy of this day lay in the ending of the misery.

Molly made a delicious breakfast. She fried a mound of eggs in fresh butter, exclaiming repeatedly that there would no longer be shortages. She cut thick slices of salted pork and chopped it into the eggs, making a feast.

As they ate, Perry found herself doing all the talking. She told Molly all about the past week and her travels. She described Hunter in detail and in so doing felt a sudden longing to see him. When she finally slowed down, Molly stood up abruptly.

She folded her arms over her ample breasts and smiled down at Perry. "Well, now that you don't have to wear them clothes, why don't we make you somethin' to wear when this Hunter comes for you?" She grabbed Perry's hand and pulled her toward the main house. "I was rummaging through some trunks up in Henry's attic the other day and saw dresses that might give us somethin' to start with. They must have belonged to his wife. She died several years ago, so they ain't doing nothing but rotting up there."

"Are you sure you can spare the clothes, Molly?" Perry asked, wishing she could offer to buy them.

"Lord, child, I have no need for a dress with a waist as big around as my leg. Henry always said I was twice the woman his wife was. After seeing her clothes I'd have to agree." Molly laughed as she unlocked the back door to the main house.

Molly moved inside. "Folks 'round here used to call him Haunted Henry, him livin' in this big house all alone. He wouldn't even have servants after his wife died. In his youth he ran a slave ship. Folks say he was haunted by all those slaves that never survived the crossing with him. They say the evil he and his partner did drove his partner so crazy, he disappeared.

"I, myself, never called him Haunted Henry, though." Molly laughed. "I used to call him Horny Henry, but toward the end that, I'm afraid, was only a haunting memory too." A chuckle babbled from Molly.

Perry laughed as she stepped inside the main house. To her surprise the rooms were fully furnished. Cobwebs hung everywhere, draping the interior in gray. Many of the larger pieces of furniture were covered with white sheets, giving each room a ghostly appearance. The thick drapes and fine, imported rugs were rotting and layered with dust. This had once been a lovely home, before years of neglect had slowly smothered each room, robbing the wood of any glow and stealing strength from the colors.

Dusting webs away, Molly moved to the stairs. "I let my Herschel in here every now and then. He keeps the mice away.'' A dreamy look of longing crept into her face as she added, "You'll think I'm a fool, but I come in here sometimes and pretend I'm a grand lady waiting for a dinner guest to come."

Perry stated, matter-of-factly, "You are a grand lady, Molly."

Molly smiled down at her from the stairs. "Thank you, child. I'll treasure them words." Then she was gone in a whirl of dust.

Perry hurried to keep up with her as they climbed to the attic. For an old woman, Molly had a light step, and her arm was strong as she pulled the attic door open. As Perry stepped through the opening she was shocked to see trunks everywhere. Most of them looked as if they had sat unopened for years. The large attic was covered with a lifetime of clutter.

Moving to a trunk, she jerked up the lid. Within minutes both women were surrounded with dresses and laughter. Old Henry's wife must have loved spending money on clothes, Perry thought, for she had more than ten women needed.

They spent the morning trying on outfits and sewing. They found a few dresses in good shape. The styles were classic, so they needed little alteration.