would remember to go to Granddad's old place. As one mile turned into another, then another, Perry planned.
Cannon fire rumbled around her in low moans. At first it seemed as harmless as the thin trails of smoke that drifted slowly into the clouds. Then the smell of impending death blended with the odor of a campfire. Early spring was paled by the winter of war.
Bodies scattered like litter beside the muddy path. They lay as a silent reminder of earlier battles. Blue and gray, with their blood blending together in death. Ragged, ghostlike characters knelt over the remains. Whether they were mourning or robbing, Perry could only wonder. Somehow the vulture or mourner brought the same sadness to her. The sight of the twisted bodies only strengthened her determination to help Hunter. She was a fighter and she'd fight to the death for this man who'd touched her soul with his gray eyes. Somehow for her there was nothing left but this one quest. If she lost it, she'd snap and vanish as quickly as the puffs of smoke from a gun blast.
His bandage was bright red now, and his face the yellowy paleness of lye soap. As she moved closer to check his breathing, they entered a clearing and the temporary Union camp. She looked up and froze for a moment. The Stars and Stripes flew above them. She hadn't seen a Union flag in years, but after her long walk it was somehow a homecoming sight.
Luke marched past the tents and mess wagon to the back of the clearing. Perry had no choice but to follow. The campgrounds melted into a shady, wooded area. Wounded men lay everywhere under the shade of the trees. Most were asleep or unconscious. A few moaned or cried in pain. Perry's heart ached for them. She could hardly bear to look at the field of suffering surrounding her. Men were bleeding where limbs had been torn from them. The dying were all around, and no one was helping to ease their pain. Perry wondered how Hunter could possibly be better off here than in the loft. At least there he could die in silence, without the stench of rotting flesh around him. He could sleep until death without the cries of another's agony ringing in his ears.
Luke bellowed at a lone man moving among the bodies. 'Where's the doctor?' he inquired.
The thin, overworked soldier moved toward them. His limp was pronounced and his slow stride showed exhaustion. His voice was dull and lifeless. 'Doc left just before the last battle with a load of wounded. I'm the orderly in charge till he returns.' As he spoke, he lifted Hunter's head with only passing interest. 'Anyway, this one probably won't make it till Doc gets back. Put him over there with the worst.' He pointed with his bony finger.
Perry guessed the orderly was too old to serve as a soldier and wasn't particularly fond of his duties among the wounded. How could they assign such an uncaring man to this job? But then she realized the position would drive a caring man mad.
Luke nodded to the old man and motioned for Perry to follow. She admired the way Luke had carried Hunter all this way, seemingly unmindful of the extra load. His stockiness was due to a wealth of muscles. Though she noticed his two companions had complained several times during the walk and dropped in exhaustion as soon as they'd entered camp, Luke hadn't said a word about his burden.
They moved among the dying men until Luke found an empty spot near the edge of the clearing. He laid Hunter next to a large elm, showing more gentleness than Perry thought him capable of. Turning to Perry, he said, 'You can stay with him if you'd like, kid, but don't see much use myself. About dark, if you wander back over to that mess tent, I'll see you get some grub.'
As she knelt beside Hunter in the grassy shade Perry nodded and muttered, 'Thanks.' She watched Luke pick his way through the wounded and disappear into the distance. Tears rolled down her cheeks and fell on the damp grass. What a mess she was in! Perry had never felt so lost. A few days ago Captain Williams had issued orders for her arrest, and now she found herself surrounded by Union troops.
Hunter's bandage was blood-soaked and dirty, his face ghost-white beneath sweaty blond hair.
The old orderly moved toward her, a half-filled bucket of water sloshing at his side and a ledger book under his arm. Setting the bucket at Hunter's head, he opened the ledger. 'Kid, you know this soldier's name?' he asked without interest.
Perry nodded as she drew the dipper from the bucket and gently lifted Hunter's head to give him a drink. 'Hunter Kirkland is his name. He needs a doctor bad,' she blurted in one breath.
The old man scribbled in the ledger book as he shook his head. 'Ain't no doctor around, I already told you. I got me hands full with nearly fifty wounded to care for. You'll have to tend him best you can. You're welcome to use any bandages you find over yonder in the wagon.' He waved his bony hand in the general direction of a supply wagon. 'But as for me, I'm not wastin' my time on any that looks as bad off as him.' He rumbled with an ugly chuckle. 'I hear tell there's a Johnny Reb sawbones over among the prisoners, but any man'd be better off dead than to let one of them boys work on him.'
Perry fought off the quick surge of defensiveness that filled her. When she made no reply, the old man closed his ledger and moved away.
For a few minutes Perry sat like stone. Hunter was dying, and she'd done nothing to help him. She was miles away from Noma and not sure she could locate the barn again, even if she did find a way to slip back. She had no friend to turn to, and her only valuables were hidden away in the barn loft.
Hunter's low moaning jerked Perry back from self-pity. His head moved slowly from side to side, each moan tearing at the roots of her heart. With a sense of urgency she ran to the wagon and rummaged for bandages and blankets. To her surprise there seemed an abundant supply. She thought of her brother and how he'd written about the shortage of supplies in I^ee's army. This war seemed so unfair.
Minutes later she returned, loaded with a blanket and fresh bandages. For more than an hour she worked to make Hunter more comfortable. First she removed the dusty, blood-soaked wrappings and gently bathed the swollen flesh, now more infected than before. She rubbed the damp rag over his chest and face, hoping to cool him down. Carefully she wrapped his shoulder in clean cloth and covered him with the blanket. Hunter's hand covered her own as she pulled the blanket across his chest. He was now in too much pain to speak or open his eyes, but the feel of her hand within his relaxed him as no medicine could. His breathing slowed and he slept, now much weaker from loss of blood than before he'd been moved.
Perry sat back, exhausted, as the sun melted into the hills to her left. Men silently moved in the twilight, building small fires among the wounded. As more men returned to the camp, Perry noticed several helping the wounded around her.
The last rays of daylight disappeared. Smelling the cook fires, she felt strong hunger pains batting like crows in the pit of her stomach. She decided to follow the smell to the mess tent. Reluctantly she moved away from Hunter toward the campfire in the center of the clearing. Without much effort she found Luke squatting by the fire with a mug in one huge hand. He smiled at her and signaled her to fill a plate. He was the only one who paid any attention to her as she filled a tin with beans and bread. The meal wasn't much to tempt the taste buds, but in her famished state, any food would seem wonderful.
Moving to the edge of the campfire light, Perry devoured the meal like a hungry animal. Wiping her fingers on her pant leg, she smiled at her own behavior. She was a far cry from the Southern lady she'd been raised to be.
A shadow moved between her and the fire. Perry stared up at the black outline in the darkness, every muscle tense as the huge, blackened form moved toward her. She slowly pushed her hand into her pocket and gripped the knife. The mountain of blackness stood above her, only a foot away when he spoke. 'Get enough to eat, boy?' Luke inquired, his face entirely hidden in darkness.
Perry let out a long breath and relaxed her grip on the knife. As she nodded, she decided maybe Luke wasn't as evil as she had first marked him to be. After all, he'd carried Hunter to camp. Maybe he'd help again. She ventured a question. 'Sir, the orderly says there's a Confederate doctor in camp. Think you could get him to look at my officer? Reckon I'll never get nothin' if he up and dies on me.'
Luke chuckled. 'Don't see any harm in asking, kid. But are you sure you trust a Confederate doctor not to butcher him up even worse?'
Perry bit her bottom lip before replying softly, 'Way I see it… he's gonna die if n he don't get some doctoring. Might as well take the chance.'
Luke nodded. 'All right, kid. I'll check around. You go on back to your soldier and I'll meet with you later. And by the way, if I ever get shot in this damn war, I hope you find me.' He disappeared, making her blink as the firelight danced where he'd stood.
She stood and moved unnoticed back toward Hunter. Small fires placed every thirty feet between the wounded did little to add warmth or light. There was no mistaking the foul smell of dying as she walked among these men.
