Northern Star (19 page)

Perry smiled at his ingenuity as she crawled into the hammock. The swinging bed was just long enough for her body. Her cocoon moved into the enlargement of the basket’s side and out of the way.

“You stay quiet and hidden,” Abram whispered. “I’ll move supplies in front of you. But you shouldn’t be too crowded. When we’re well away, I’ll pull you out.”

“Thank you, Abram,” Perry answered as her eyelids closed in exhaustion.

She was only vaguely aware of Abram moving large boxes in front of her, burying her snugly in the bulging basket. She felt warm and safe wrapped in the wool blanket. Sadness brushed her last thought as she realized she’d be seeing Hunter again in a few hours. Once more he’d see her as only a boy.

Sweat covered Perry like a thin coat of oil. Sweltering in the darkness, she could feel death swallowing her as she fought to wake up, closing in around her, pulling her closer and closer into its victory dance, gulping her whole into its endless, damp blackness.

A sudden jar of the basket rocked Perry from her nightmare. She tried to clear her mind, but death kept pushing her into a tomb, suffocating her as she fought to awaken. The Grim Reaper was a huge shadowy figure with a hooded cap hiding his face. He pushed her into the grave, as dirt covered her face and blocked her breath. She could hear him laughing.…

Another jolt brought her into reality. She must have slept a long time, for judging by the movement and noise about her, men were readying the balloon for flight. She twisted slowly in her cramped nest. Each movement renewed the pain in her bruised body. The memory of Wade’s beating flashed white fire in her brain, like a nightmare that had somehow crossed into reality. Each aching part of her body reminded her of Wade’s anger. He would kill her if he found her. She must keep very quiet.

Slowly she wiggled beneath the blanket until she was facing the basket wall. Abram had closed her solidly in with boxes and ropes but she could remain in darkness no
longer. Not only did she hate the blackness, but the heat was suffocating.

Pulling her knife from her pocket, she cut a slit in the blanket at eye level. The opening revealed only slats of light drifting through the spaces in the weave of the basket. She could see blurred glimpses of several men running around her. From their actions the balloon must be filled and already dancing like a large pear above her. She listened silently from her concealment. An hour passed before she heard horses traveling fast toward her and guessed from the shouts that Hunter was approaching.

“Abram, is she ready to travel?” Hunter shouted as he. jumped from his mount and walked toward the basket. “Lord, Abram, do you think we can get off the ground with this load?”

Perry couldn’t hear Abram’s response, but she could hear the laughter in Hunter’s voice. He was standing only a few feet from where she lay hidden. Straining to see through the slits in the basket, she was amazed at how he’d changed over the past few months. He seemed so tall. His return to health, along with a few added pounds, made him look younger than when she had last seen him. He looked even more handsome than he had in her dreams. A gust of wind played with his wavy blond hair, and she smiled, remembering how a curl had once wrapped itself around her finger.

All traces of the wounded soldier she’d helped were gone. Hunter was strong and confident now as he talked with the men around him, explaining all the workings of his wonderful balloon. He reminded Perry of a handsome buccaneer preparing to board his ship. The white collar of his shirt stood in sharp contrast to the golden tan of his face. He’d removed his jacket and thrown it among the supplies with the recklessness of an excited child. His vest fit closely across his chest, emphasizing his narrow waist and wide shoulders. The need to touch him was as painful within her as any of her wounds.

Perry watched as the man who had ridden up with Hunter moved closer. “We enjoyed your visit,” John Williams said as he stood close to his grandson. “Maybe after you marry your little lady next month, both of you could pay us a visit.”

“I know Jennifer would love it here. We’ll plan a trip down before Christmas.”

Perry watched as the two men embraced. She marveled once again how only time distorted the mirror image. As they pulled apart, John reached inside his coat pocket and handed Hunter an envelope. Hunter slipped the letter into the top of his vest an instant later. None of the men around them could have seen the curious exchange unless they were standing between Hunter and the basket. She thought it might be interesting to see what a letter passed so inconspicuously would contain. If it had been only a casual item, the two men would not have passed it so secretively. She found it hard to believe the gentle John Williams capable of anything less than honorable. The letter must have been only a personal note, nothing more.

As the grounding ropes kept pulling it to earth, Perry could feel the balloon struggling in a tug-of-war to lift the basket. A sadness filled her as John Williams’s words seeped into her tired mind. The thought of Hunter’s upcoming marriage to the hateful blonde woman caused long-held tears to fall. After seeing Jennifer, Perry wouldn’t wish the sharp-tongued girl on anyone. From the conversation she’d just heard, it was obvious Hunter still planned to marry Jennifer. Perry couldn’t explain why she felt such pain—a thousand times greater than that of her physical injuries—welling inside her. After taking care of Hunter when he was near death, she felt he was once again in grave danger, and this time no doctor or medicine could help him.

Within the hour, amid shouts and cheers, Perry felt the balloon lift into the sky. She heard Abram and Hunter moving about as the voices below faded. The ride was
smooth, like sitting in a huge swing and letting the air push gently back and forth.

Another hour passed before Hunter relaxed. “Let her float, Abram. We’re finally heading right. I think we’ve caught the current.”

Abram cleared his throat. “Hunter, I’ve something to tell you.” He began moving the boxes away from Perry’s hiding place.

“Don’t tell me you forgot something.” Hunter laughed.

“No, I’d have to say we added something,” Abram said as he carefully lifted the blanket.

Perry pulled her hat low as she sprawled out from under the hot folds of wool. She was aware of how wretched she appeared in her old dirty clothes and covered with coal dust. Both her hands and feet were covered with dried blood, and her right eye had swollen closed while she’d slept.

Shock showed only briefly on Hunter’s face before he smiled. Sparks twinkled in his gray eyes like flint striking. “Well, my lord, it’s the kid. Perry, you look a little the worse for wear. What are you doing here?”

She kept her head low and pushed her small, dirty fist forward. She turned her palm up and opened her hand, revealing Hunter’s necklace. The metal sparkled like a gold nugget in a muddy river. “I’m askin’ for the favor back, sir.” Her voice was low, barely above a whisper.

Hunter made no attempt to accept her offer as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the basket. “How could I refuse? If I said no, we’d have to throw you out like a bag of sand.” Making a short bow, he added, “Welcome aboard my airship,
Northern Star.”

Perry raised her eyes to him. She saw a cringe of pain pass through him as he observed her misshapen face. “What happened to you, Perry?” he asked with tenderness and caring in his voice.

Perry lowered her face and began her planned plea.
“My grandfather beat me, so I’m running away. Can I go with you to Philly like before? I got a friend there.”

“Sure you can, and kid, keep the necklace as a gift, now that we’re square. We’ll make much better time, if the wind is with us, than we did last time in the wagon.” Hunter paused in deep thought. “I want to stop as close as we can to the barn you found me in and pick up my uniform jacket, if it’s still there. I don’t remember much, but I think I buried it in the hay before I collapsed.” Hunter was speaking more to himself than to anyone else.

Perry nodded in agreement, even though she knew she had no say in where the balloon might float. She’d almost forgotten the leather packet belonging to her mother, also buried in the loft. If they got close enough to the barn, she could pick it up too. It was all she had left of her home or her mother. With her grandfather’s door closed to her, she badly needed that last tie to home.

The wind stayed with them, blowing the huge balloon above the land along a northern course. Perry spent most of the afternoon watching the countryside drift by. She watched Hunter as he constantly played with instruments and maps. It was fascinating how Abram and Hunter maneuvered the huge balloon. Hunter explained to her that by traveling up and down in the air, they passed wind currents. He called them highways of the air. The balloon might not always travel exactly where they intended, but it didn’t just drift aimlessly, as most people thought.

“How high up are we?” Perry asked, her fears forgotten as she watched miles of country passing gently below her.

Hunter shrugged. “About a mile up right now, I’d say. We could go up a great deal higher, but after a while the air gets thin and cold.”

Hunter stepped to Perry’s side of the basket as he continued talking. “A few years ago a couple of scientists from England decided to see how high they could go. They got to about twenty-eight thousand feet. It got so cold, the
instruments froze. They claim to have reached almost seven miles up. The temperature was well below zero, and one, an older man named Glaisher, passed out. If Coxwell, his companion, hadn’t been able to untangle the cord running to the gas-release valve, both men would have died. Coxwell’s hands were so frozen, he had to pull the cord with his teeth.”

Watching as Hunter returned to his instruments, she decided the only times she’d heard him put more than two sentences together were the times he’d talked of ballooning. How could he ever have gotten involved with a woman like Jennifer? In her wildest thoughts she could never imagine Hunter and Jennifer arguing like the blonde and the young man in the hospital hallway had. She couldn’t imagine Hunter and Jennifer together at all. A quiet goodness centered about him, deep in the passions of his work. Jennifer was a self-centered woman who obviously used her beauty to manipulate people.

Not wanting to think about them together, Perry studied the land moving slowly by, as if someone were pulling a crazy patchwork quilt from underneath them—only the quilt never ended but kept revealing new patterns to the observers above. Someday, Perry promised herself, when she was old, she’d make a crazy quilt of these earth colors. She would lie on it and dream of the day she’d spent drifting among the clouds. The pain of her body mattered little as she flew with the birds, high above all the problems of the world.

By late afternoon they’d traveled a distance that would have taken three days on the ground. The air was cooling, and clouds gathered in a deceptive tranquillity around them.

Abram recognized the terrain first. Within minutes they were lowering the balloon into the field, where only months ago Abram had fallen. From the air Perry saw the stream that she knew wound toward the barn. She guessed the walk would be not more than a mile to the barn.

The balloon touched ground several times before nesting, as if it were a huge bird testing for the right spot to stand on earth. Each bump jarred Perry’s bruised bones, but Hunter and Abram were too busy to notice her cringing in pain. She silently took each jolt without a sound.

Abram heaved his huge bulk over the side and began anchoring ground ropes. The basket settled into its nest of thick grass for the night.

Hunter worked as he explained to Perry, “With luck we won’t have to let out much air and can start early tomorrow. If the wind should kick up, it can really play havoc with her if she’s full of air.”

As soon as the balloon was tied down, Hunter stated, “I’m going to look for the barn before it gets any darker. I should be back within an hour.”

Abram nodded. “I’ll make camp a little ways over there,” he commented as he waved Hunter away.

Perry was trying to decide whether to go with Hunter now or wait until after dark when Abram opened the picnic basket beside her. Perry stared at a huge mound of fried chicken and her decision was made. She knew she could follow the stream and find the barn, even in the dark. Hunger outweighed all else at the moment.

Abram broke her trance by softly ordering, “Go ahead, eat a few pieces. It will tide you over till supper. I know growin’ boys have to eat.” He laughed.

Grabbing a chicken leg, she sat cross-legged on the ground, watching Abram work. Hunter had already disappeared into the trees by the stream.

“Hunter’s grandma makes mighty fine chicken, only she thinks she’s feeding an army. You must be hungry.” Abram talked to himself, not expecting any response.

“I’ll bed down here by the balloon tonight. Hunter usually likes to move away a little. We’ve found over the years that if he’s out of sight, it’s to our advantage. Then, if someone wanders up, they’re usually unaware of him until he’s had time to size them up.”

Abram moved closer to Perry and handed her a canteen of water. “Miss Perry, does your eye trouble you much?” he asked.

Perry shook her head as she took the water gratefully, then continued eating. To be honest, she’d been so scared and tired all day, she’d not thought much about her face. She knew the puffy eye and swollen lip disfigured her temporarily, but it would pass. She wondered if the pain of Noma’s betrayal would ever stop. Her entire body ached with fatigue and bruises, but her heart hurt much more.

Abram rummaged through a duffel bag and handed her a pair of black wool socks. “Put these over your feet, Miss Perry. If you want to wash the blood off, I’ll doctor ’em for you.”

“Thanks, Abram, but I have no shoes. I’d ruin your socks,” Perry whispered sadly as she held the pair of socks back up to him.

Abram laughed. “Better you ruin one pair of socks than your feet. Besides, they’re real thick. They’ll be as sturdy as some of them slippers I’ve seen women wear.”