She took the knife and cut the cord binding baby and mother, then tied each end as the baby wiggled atop the pile of rags.

“Where's the woman in labor?” a voice shouted from near the church. “I'm the doctor.”

“Over here!” Wolf's gruff holler answered. “Only she ain't a woman in labor no more. She's a mother!”

The doctor stepped between the blankets, glancing first at the baby then the mother. “Take care of the babe, Nurse,” he ordered. “I'll make sure the mother isn't hemorrhaging.”

Karlee wanted to scream that she didn't know what to do, but then she smiled, realizing she must have done it right if he thought she was a nurse.

She wiped the baby off and wrapped it in a square of cotton that looked very much like the covering for the church altar. The infant was wiggling and making all kinds of noises with his mouth wide open, just like a newborn bird's.

She crawled up to the new mother and lay the infant at her side. “He's beautiful,” Karlee explained. “Prettiest baby I've ever seen.”

“Thank you.”

Karlee shrugged. “I didn't do anything. You did all the work. I just watched the miracle.”

“You're an angel God sent in my darkest hour,” the widow announced. “I will be forever in your debt.”

AmyAnn's pale hand covered Karlee's bloody one. “Forever your friend,” she whispered and closed her eyes. “Forever.”

“Doctor?” Karlee fought panic.

“She's fine,” he answered quickly, understanding Karlee's fear. “Lost a lot of blood, she has. Best to let her rest for a spell, then we'll see about getting her home and putting her in a proper bed.” He lifted the baby. “And this little fellow is grand, just grand. I think I'll nickname him Rip.”

“Rip?” Karlee questioned.

“Yeah, Rest In Peace like the headstone here says. He'll be one brave man, I figure. For anyone born in a cemetery ought to have no fear of dying.”

He slowly stood, building his height one joint at a time. “Stay with her and little Rip for a while.” Without a word, he slipped a small derringer beneath the stack of clothes. “This won't hit nothing more then three feet away, but it should make enough noise to attract attention. I'll tell the men you'll fire if you need help.”

Karlee started to shake her head and tell the doctor how much she hated firearms, but then she remembered the Union officer. She didn't want him to return and find her and AmyAnn alone. She could fire a round to call for help.

The doctor looked at her and smiled. “You did a fine job today, but stay alert. The trouble may not be over. I'll be back soon.”

EIGHT

KARLEE STAYED WITH AMYANN UNTIL HER NEIGHBORS came to take the new mother home. The women might have been afraid to come to the cemetery during the funeral, but they promised to stay with AmyAnn and the baby until she was able to get around by herself.

To Karlee's surprise they all took turns hugging her as if she were a long time member of their circle. Several promised to come by and visit. She'd never felt so welcomed in her life.

Karlee hugged the new mother and kissed the baby, then walked home alone in the late afternoon sun. She'd stuffed the derringer in the pocket of her skirt. “Forget about it,” she told herself, but the thumping of metal against her leg kept reminding her that she carried a weapon.

All the day's stress pressed over her body, tiring muscles and making her step heavy. Blood and dirt splattered the front of her dress. Her hair ribbon had disappeared. She knew she looked a fright, but she'd never felt so satisfied.

She'd done something right! All day, as AmyAnn slept in the grass and Karlee cradled the baby, she'd felt a pride in herself unlike she'd ever known. The doctor left them in her care, trusting her to do what was right. He'd ordered Karlee not to move the little widow until he finished his rounds and came back to make sure she was strong enough to travel.

When he returned, he told Karlee that if she ever needed a position as a nurse, she had one with him.

Karlee opened the kitchen door, thinking how odd life was. A week ago she had no way of supporting herself, and today she'd been offered her second job. Maybe when Daniel didn't need her to watch the twins any longer, she could visit with the doctor. She was sure nurses didn't make much, but she didn't need much. She could rent a room and live alone.

“About time you got home, Cousin,” Wolf boomed in welcome. “I'm worn out playing with these two. Danny left an hour ago, saying he'd be back before dark. I don't think I'll stay alive if I don't get some relief.”

Karlee looked past Wolf to the kitchen. Forty field hands could have done no more damage. Pots and pans were everywhere on the floor. Dirty dishes filled the sink.

“Wish I could stay and help you clean up.” Wolf stood slowly and moved toward the door as she walked around the room. “But I got to go. A bar fight looks down right restful at this point.”

He broke into a run as if he feared she might catch him and make him help. Karlee laughed at the sight of such a cowardly uncle. The twins joined her by dancing around and giggling.

“What have you two and Uncle Wolf been doing?” Karlee brushed their hair with her hand.

One of the girls proudly showed off a paper chain necklace. “We made paper chains. Uncle Wolf didn't know how to make the paste, so he tried lots of ways.”

“And he made us jelly sandwiches with eggs inside,” the other twin added. “And we drank coffee with cream from the tea cups. And he said we didn't have to take a nap, just because.”

The first twin nodded.

They didn't need to list their activities for the day, Karlee could read it on their clothes. Jelly, flour, dried paste, coffee stains.

“Well, I've got one last treat for you.” Karlee reached for the tub leaning in the corner.

Ten minutes later, she had both twins playing in a bath of warm water while she washed the dishes a few feet away at the sink.

By the time she toweled them off, their skin was all wrinkly, and they were too sleepy to dress themselves. She gave each a cup of buttermilk with cornbread pieces crumbled up in it.

They ate their supper, then didn't complain as she carried them up to bed. Karlee was a little surprised when both hugged and kissed her cheek goodnight. Somehow the sleepy little hugs and the buttermilk kisses made it all worthwhile.

Karlee crossed to her bedroom and changed into Rosy's huge hand-me-down nightgown. She placed the tiny derringer the doctor gave her in the top of the chest of drawers, knowing there was no way the twins could find or reach the weapon. It would probably be better to unload the thing, but Karlee wasn't sure she knew how. Tomorrow, she'd return it.

The house was in shadows when she went back downstairs. Instead of going to the kitchen, she walked across the entry hall and out the front door, needing the cool night air. When she was a child she used to pretend the wind was her mother's fingers brushing her hair at night.

The long porch on the front of the house had been built with thin slats from the railing to the roof. The slats let air onto the porch but blocked most of the view of anyone passing. In the twilight, the area shone like a dream come to life, with slivers of silver slicing across the night every few inches. At this hour, anyone on the porch could never be fully in darkness, or in day.

Karlee closed her eyes, enjoying the cool breeze and the sounds of evening. Far away crickets and frogs whispered to one another. Somewhere out of sight, horses shuffled and whinnied. She could almost hear the sound of dishes clanking against tables and children being called to supper. A hundred sounds blended together until none were known but all seemed familiar.

A movement in the darkness of the porch startled her. She froze, wishing she'd slipped the derringer into the pocket of her robe.

“Who's there?” She inched toward the door and safety.

“Don't be frightened.” Daniel's voice drifted across the night.

Karlee straightened, angry at herself for panicking at the first sound. “I wasn't. I was only alarmed. I thought the porch empty.”

“I didn't mean to startle you.”

Something sounded different in his voice, a sadness, a longing, a sorrow too great to speak. He could be no more than ten feet from her, but his words echoed as though they crossed ages of time and space.

She moved toward him, unsure of what to do to help. He was a man who wore his sorrow silently without expecting condolence, but the very air around him was humid with unshed tears. She guessed if she tried to penetrate his invisible barriers with sympathy, he'd block her efforts and resent her attempt to trespass into his private hell.

An empty whiskey bottle toppled at her foot and rolled lazily toward the steps.

“You've been drinking,” she said the obvious.

“Not enough,” he answered.

“I never thought you'd be a drinking man.” She could only be honest, for no lies would fit between them in this perfect time separating day and night.