Northern Star

Chapter 7

Darkness fell on the weary threesome as they moved through the outskirts of Philadelphia. Perry marveled at Abram's stamina. He'd hardly slept over the long trip. Now he carefully maneuvered the tired team down the narrow streets of the second largest town in America.

Philadelphia was dirtier than most towns Perry had seen. A menagerie of people wandered the streets, as though they were waiting for adventure to dance into their humdrum lives. Beggars huddled in corners, while soldiers milled aimlessly around, searching for excitement to dispel their nervous energy. The crowd added a carnival-like atmosphere to the town. The aroma of food being cooked over open fires blended with the odors of too many people and animals stabled in close quarters. She heard several conversations at once without understanding any of them.

Abram urged the horses past a carriage pulled to the curb. The black coach was polished until light sparkled off it, giving it a charmed quality in the night. Two women alighted from the rich inner folds and strolled into the yellow glow of the streetlight. Both were lavishly dressed in yards of colorful silk. Perry had seen little fine silk over the past four years, and to see so much at once was almost an assault on her eyes. The ladies looked like huge, beautiful moths fluttering in the lamplight.

The women's loud laughter drifted through the street like a bell clanging off-key. Perry's gaze darted suddenly from the bright material they wore to their faces. Her eyes widened as she saw, not two fine ladies but rough women of the streets. Their hair shone an unnatural copper in the light of the lamp, and their faces were covered with makeup thick enough to plow a row through. Their eyes were painted and outlined in black, in sharp contrast to the powder-white of their skin. Each had overemphasized her lips in bright red.

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.

As Perry worked, Molly seemed to be studying her with great interest. "I may be past my prime, but little misses these old eyes." She seemed to be dissecting Perry's bone structure. Her accent bore a Scottish flare as she relaxed. "I've spent my life sizin' up people. Underneath them rags I'd say there be quality."

Perry was busy working and made no comment to the woman's chatter. She'd watched her brother close a cut wound many times. Pulling the flesh neatly together, she hoped it would heal with the least scar possible. Carefully tearing thin strips of cloth, Perry dipped each strip into the hot wax of a fat candle. Just before the wax cooled, she pulled Molly's cut together and lay the warm, waxy strip across her cheek. Perry smoothed each strip until the wax cooled, sticking the cloth to Molly's face and holding the cut together. Perry knew this method wouldn't hold long, but if it held until the bleeding stopped, Molly would only have a thin scar to blend among her wrinkles.

As she finished, Perry smiled, saying, "I think it will heal nicely, ma'am."

"I thank you very much." The old woman returned Perry's smile. "My name's Molly. What be yours?"

Perry nodded, welcoming her friendliness. "I'm Perry McLain."

"You're from the South," Molly stated.

Perry nodded again. She liked this old woman with her warm open smile and bright mischievous eyes. Perry was glad she could help her.

"I want to pay you for fixing me up." Molly began rummaging through her pockets.

"No, no." Perry waved her hands. "I'll take no pay for helping someone in pain."

Leaning back for a closer look at Perry, Molly pressed her lips together a moment before asking, "Could you do with a meal and maybe a nice warm bath?"

Perry's eyes brightened at the mention of a bath. She hadn't had a real bath since the night they'd spent at the plantation.

Molly smiled, obviously pleased she'd hit her mark. "I thought anyone as dirty as you would like the idea of a bath!

Wrapping her bloody scarf in a towel, she jumped off the stool. "I've got a house only three blocks away, Number Fourteen Willow Road. Nobody's there except me and my cat. You come home with Molly and I'll see you get a bath and some food. You're welcome to stay the night."

Anything would be better than spending the night on the hospital steps or in this kitchen, Perry thought as she ran toward the door. "Wait a minute, I'll be right back."

Perry moved silently down the winding corridor to a large desk. The orderly she'd spoken to earlier sat sleeping in a chair, his feet propped on the cluttered desk. She picked up a pen and paper in front of him and scribbled Molly's address.

She poked the orderly in the arm with the blunt end of the pen as sharply as she dared. He shrugged away and opened one eye. "Whatcha want, kid?" he asked.

"Give this to Captain Kirkland or Abram." Perry knew better than to move away and trust him. "Now, please."

"Well, what makes you think I have time to be a messenger boy?" the orderly hissed.

"If you don't, Abram will be very upset." Perry hoped her threat was believable.

The orderly slowly took the paper. He tapped it against his bottom lip as he debated. Finally making up his mind, he reluctantly stood. "All right, I'll take it to him." Then, as an afterthought, he glared back at her. "You wait right here. Can't go any farther than this desk, understand, boy?" The orderly was obviously trying to gain back some of his authority. He didn't like being given an order by her. However, Perry knew, Abram's size gave her order some merit.

She nodded and watched him shuffle off down the dimly lit hall. As the moments dragged by, she had second thoughts about going with Molly. After all, she knew nothing of the old woman or what her place would be like. Her home could look the same as the kitchen she'd just been in. Finally, the thought of relaxing in a hot bath outweighed any reservations.

The orderly returned carrying another message. He handed it to Perry without interest and resumed his seat. He propped his feet back up, dismissing her as he closed his eyes.

Perry walked back to the kitchen, slowly unfolding the note. Written in a neat hand was simply, "Have address. Will come for you tomorrow night. Hunter is resting but must see Lowe at dawn."

Perry smiled as she pulled open the kitchen door. "I'm ready, Molly." She couldn't miss the joy in the old woman's eyes as she straightened slightly and led the way out of the hospital.

They walked out together and moved down the street, now silent, with even the wind asleep. The night air hung in icy stillness around them. Perry thought the hospital steps would have been very uncomfortable by this time. She smiled and slowed her pace slightly to match the old woman's step. Molly seemed in high spirits to have company.

"I think you'll like my house." Molly linked her arm with Perry's. "But to start off with, I believe in being honest. You should know who and what I am before you walk with me. I may have been called a great many things, but dishonest ain't one of them. So to be straight with you, I'm a retired lady of the streets. Worked for over thirty years, I did. Two years ago, one of my oldest and best… ah"-she hesitated, choosing her words carefully-"men friends died and left me his big house. I think he probably drank all his money away. Ever'one knows a huge old house won't sell during the war. I had a little money saved away, so I retired and have been living there ever since."

Perry was careful to reveal no shock at Molly's occupation. She had to fight to keep the laughter from bubbling from her. How could a Southerner deep in Union country, who was wanted for treason, ever judge another's past life?

As they passed another block Perry noticed they were in an older part of town. Many of the homes had been left vacant or utilized as storage buildings. At one time this must have been an affluent neighborhood. Now trees and shrubs circled in junglelike thickness around boarded-up houses.

Molly continued talking, as if Perry were asking questions. "Henry-that was my… ah… man friend-had no family that cared about him. After I moved in, up shows these two nephews of his, claiming they should have the house. Well, I ran them off, no mistake about that. But lately things been happenin'. I know it's those two.

"Last month I found a dead cat on my steps. A week ago someone rode through my garden, trampling down half my plants. Tonight I went out to dump my mop water. This slimy scum jumped out of nowhere. Tried to slit my throat, he did." She chuckled. "Guess he didn't plan on my still carrying the mop. I hit him so hard between the legs, he's probably still holding his breath."

Perry laughed at Molly's free, open talk. Part of her found it shocking, but mostly she found the honesty refreshing.

Molly laughed with her. "Oh, you think that's funny, missy? Well, I hope your mom told you about where to hit a man you didn't want gettin' too close."

Perry froze in mid-step. "You know I'm a girl?" she whispered.

"Of course." Molly patted Perry's arm. "I may be old, but I'm no fool. I never would have lived long at what I did if I hadn't been able to tell what gender folks were." She chuckled with a snorting sound. "Now, honey, you don't have to explain nothin' to me, nothin' at all. I know all I need to know about you. You're a kind soul and welcome in my house for as long as you wanta stay. No questions asked."

Tears sparkled in Perry's eyes, not for herself but for Molly. She thought of how starved this old woman must be for simple kindness. "Thank you," Perry whispered.

"Wait till you taste me cookin'." Molly lifted her chin proudly. "I could have been a cook but couldn't see standing on my feet all day.'' A jolly, rolling laugh bubbled from her, the kind of laugh that makes all those it touches smile.

They walked another half block, thick with eerie shadows, before Molly turned and stepped over a broken-down fence gate. Perry followed, amazed at the size of the house they were moving toward. It was a large old brick home with ivy growing up all the sides. The house stood two stories, with a long wide porch running the length of its front. Once rich latticework trimmed all the windows, and massive oak doors guarded the front entrance, but now a wilderness of green embraced the aging brick.

Molly moved along a path at the side of the house. "I don't have no use for all these rooms. I live in the kitchen out back. It's big enough for me."

They walked through a small breezeway to the kitchen. As Molly opened the door Perry saw a welcoming fire. Molly motioned Perry in and followed, locking the door behind her.

The kitchen was huge and spotlessly clean. A bed stood in one corner, a wardrobe beside it. A long table divided the room in half. As Perry's eyes adjusted to the light she saw a rocker pulled close to the hearth and the table set for one. Molly must have very little company. A sewing basket and a few paintings were the room's only decorations. A huge black cat stretched and rose to greet them.

Molly removed her shawl and motioned Perry to be seated in the rocker. "You rest yourself and I'll draw the water for your bath. It's nice to have someone to talk with besides Herschel there." She tilted her head to indicate the cat. "He's not too friendly. Sometimes I wonder if he even likes me. He kind of come with the house."

Molly pulled a large tin tub from a corner and put water on to heat while Perry removed her hat and relaxed. Molly hummed as she worked, happy to have company. In a few minutes she returned to Perry with her sewing scissors. Perry silently held out her bandaged hand and allowed Molly to cut off the dirty dressing. The cut was healing nicely, and Perry doubted if she would need to bandage it again. Molly smiled at her without asking how the cut had happened. "While you bathe here by the fire I'll fix up a little snack."

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.