Northern Star (21 page)

They sailed effortlessly in a gentle, northern current for almost an hour before either spoke.

Hunter broke the silence. “Perry, look!” he yelled as he pointed out a small farming town. People were waving frantically from below. Children danced around as their voices drifted up in contagious excitement. Perry laughed at the sight.

“They love seeing us,” she said, leaning as far as she dared over the edge to return their greetings.

“True.” Hunter grinned, watching her. “But we balloon flyers haven’t always been so lucky. Not only did farmers mistake balloonists for monsters, but some early balloonists were beaten by the crowds if they were unable to take off on time. One French aeronaut failed to go up
in Philadelphia years ago. The sightseers didn’t seem to notice that winds were close to hurricane force. They rushed him from all sides. His aerial carriage and silk balloon were shredded for souvenirs. Even a mansion close by was burned to the ground by the angry mob.”

“It sounds like ballooning could be a very dangerous hobby.” Perry didn’t look at Hunter when she spoke.

“Oh, it is,” Hunter answered, his voice filled with a happiness that only showed when he talked of ballooning. “But it gets in your blood. I’ve dreamed of being able to fly since I was a kid. I used to build kites and tie frogs to them. The frogs never seemed as excited about being able to sail through the sky as I was.”

Perry laughed. Her musical voice danced among the clouds. Hunter turned to watch her but found that her face was hidden by her hat. He tried to remember what she had looked like before her skin was so blackened and puffy. The last time they’d been together he’d been very weak from loss of blood. Those days in the barn, and later on the road, were a jumble of memories. He’d spent the time drifting in and out of consciousness.

“Perry,” he began, “you don’t have to wear that hat now. I know you’re a girl.”

Abram snorted in the background but didn’t speak.

“I feel better wearing it,” she lied. She longed to let her hair blow in the breeze, but she couldn’t stand for Hunter to look at her blackened face again.

Hunter sensed her uneasiness and continued talking to cheer her. “You know you’re not the first woman to fly. Marie Antoinette wanted to once. But an actress named Letitia Sage actually went up for about an hour in 1784. They say she was a beautiful lady, but as a balloonist, she was lacking. She was no help as a crew member and weighed over two hundred pounds.”

Abram laughed, interrupting him. “She’d make two of our Perry.”

Hunter noticed the way Abram spoke of Perry, as if she
belonged to them. He found this surprising because Abram usually just observed people and rarely became involved with them. However, he seemed to have adopted this poor girl. He watched her with the protectiveness of a mother grizzly.

Turning to smile at Perry, Hunter found her head averted as always. He could feel her watching him when she thought he couldn’t see her, but she never looked directly at him. Maybe, if he kept talking, she would lower her guard and look at him.

“Another woman went up about two years ago. I got a letter from a friend visiting Paris in ‘63, telling me that a Frenchman called Nadar took his wife up for more than sixteen hours. They say he built a huge craft. The balloon could lift more than four and a half tons. He made the basket more like a small summer cottage. It even had a darkroom to develop pictures. He has this idea about developing pictures taken high up to use for maps.” Hunter moved slowly as he spoke, trying to see Perry’s face. She met his every advance with a withdrawal.

“Anyway, five men and one woman went. Just after dawn on the second day the six passengers were admiring the beautiful sunrise when one started worrying about what the hot sun might do to all that gas. They decided to land but encountered a storm close to ground, blocking their descent.

“The balloon went crazy, acting like a large sail, dragging the little house across the countryside.” Hunter placed his hand high on the same rope Perry was using to steady herself.

“The cottage tore apart everything in its path, including telegraph poles. Finally, after fifteen miles of havoc, a dense forest caught the balloon, which, once trapped, exploded within minutes. Nadar’s wife was the only one left in the basket. All the others had fallen out along the way.” He moved his hand down the rope a few inches and frowned as Perry moved away slightly.

“The miracle of it all was that no one died, though all were injured.” Hunter moved his hand lower once more, and again Perry moved away.

Abram broke into Hunter’s story. “You’re really making Perry feel safe up here.”

Giving up his quest to see her face, Hunter moved back to his instruments. “We’ve got easy sailing today. We’re moving north and there’s not a cloud in the sky.”

By nightfall, his words would no longer ring true.

Dark, moody clouds danced their turbulent ritual in an indecisive wind as the balloon whipped first in one direction, then in another. Perry clung to one corner of the basket, absorbed in her battle against motion sickness from the constant pitching. Though the sky blackened and lightning flashed all around them, she was far too sick to be afraid.

Hunter and Abram worked together in a harmony of movement that only close friends understand. They seemed to read each other’s slightest signal, which was essential now, because both knew the balloon must touch ground before the full fury of the storm broke. Otherwise the trio might be cast into the Delaware Bay.

“Brace yourself!” Hunter yelled, only seconds before the basket slammed into the earth. A sudden wind caught the
Star
, lifting them up as if they were on a giant swing, then plowing them into the ground once more. Hunter’s muscles rippled beneath his white shirt as Perry watched him work, bringing new sensations to the pit of her stomach.

Suddenly, when she should have been lost in fear, she remembered the feel of him when he’d pinned her to the floor of the loft. He’d been strong and sure in his movements with no hint of the injured soldier remaining. The
memory of his muscular leg sliding across her as he’d rolled from her was as real as the storm about her now. Her face reddened, and she was thankful no one had time to notice her discomfort.

Hunter began deflating the balloon with great speed as Abram jumped out with ropes slung over his shoulder. Both men were frantically trying to bring down the now sagging bubble of air before darkness and the storm were fully upon them. Perry, not knowing how to help, stood like a stone statue propped in one corner.

A tiny light danced in the woods before her like a huge firefly. As it moved closer, a farmer materialized carrying a lantern. He waved in excitement as he ran toward the balloon.

Hunter’s command was a single word—“Abram!”—but it sparked terror in Perry’s heart as she watched the huge black man spring into action. He dropped the ropes and darted toward the farmer, as though the friendly stranger meant them great harm.

In one mighty bound Hunter was out of the balloon. “Climb out fast, kid!” he shouted in a tone that left no room for questions.

She stepped on a box and lifted herself carefully over the basket’s edge. Motion sickness, bruises, and fear hampered her progress. Hunter’s impatience startled her as he scooped her into his arms and ran away from the balloon as though she were weightless in his arms.

Perry clung tightly around his neck as he darted toward a clump of trees. His strong arms held her firmly to him. She could hear the rhythmic pounding of his heart beneath his cotton shirt and his breath against her neck.

As he reached the trees he slowed his pace. “Stay here, where it’s safe,” he whispered as he lowered her behind a tree. “If there’s a fire, you’ll be out of range.”

She had a hundred questions, but she knew there was no time for answers. She could see Abram talking with the farmer in the distance and was relieved the huge man
hadn’t attacked, as she’d feared he might at Hunter’s command.

Hunter signaled Abram, then slowly walked back to the balloon, as if there were suddenly no danger in the peaceful field.

Sitting quietly among the trees, she watched as Abram and Hunter deflated the balloon by moonlight. A small crowd of farmers gathered to watch but came no closer with their lanterns.

A chilling rain began to fall by the time Hunter and Abram were finished. Perry sat cuddling her knees to her chest under a tree. Finally, through the curtain of rain, she saw Hunter walking toward her. His clothes clung to his muscular frame, and his blond hair lay dark with rain. He knelt down beside her under the shelter of the tree.

“We got the
Star
packed up, but she’s had some damage to the basket. Abram’s gone with the farmer to get a wagon.” He slung the rain from his hair. “If we don’t get her out of this field before more rain falls, it will be too late. The wagon will bog down in the mud.

“The farmer said we can bed down in his barn tonight. It’ll be dry, at least. We’ve had to sleep in worse places. These people seem real friendly.” Hunter leaned nearer and added, “I’m sorry if I startled you, but we had to get away fast from the balloon. One of the biggest dangers when you’re deflating a balloon is having someone with a lantern get too close. The whole thing could go up in flames.”

Leaning back against the tree, he rambled as he always did when he was trying to calm her. “Professor Wise told me that once an interested spectator ran up with a lantern while he was trying to deflate. Within the blink of an eye the balloon was a huge torch. Wise was burned pretty badly, but within weeks he was going up again.”

A chill went through her at the thought of him being burned. For the first time she wished this quiet man would
talk about something beside ballooning. But his low voice was soothing, and she knew they could share little more.

“Perry, you’re shivering. Come over here.” He opened his arms and waited. “I’d move nearer, but I have no wish to frighten you.”

She slowly moved beside him. Hunter’s arms gently encircled her shoulders, as though he were afraid of hurting her with his touch. Perry sensed there was no passion in his gesture, only kindness. She relaxed, lying back on his chest. A comforting feeling surrounded and warmed her.

Hunter continued talking. His low baritone voice was a melody of tranquillity around Perry, even though she didn’t understand all he said. “You know, Wise and Lowe are the two best balloonists in this country. But they are as opposite as day and night. Wise is tall and spidery, while Lowe is younger and a handsome devil. Old Wise can talk to anyone on any level and loves to throw caution to the wind. Lowe, on the other hand, is cold and scientific, with a sharp tongue. President Lincoln was about the only man I’ve seen who really enjoyed talking with him.”

Hunter searched the night for Abram. She stopped shivering and relaxed as he continued talking. “Funny thing is, Wise and Lowe both have the same dream. They both want to cross the Atlantic in a balloon. Too bad they can’t work together.”

She wanted to talk with Hunter, to ask him questions, but there were too many barriers between them. She knew the sooner she could disappear from his life, the better it would be for him. He was engaged to another. Besides, it would aggravate the bad blood between him and his only cousin if Hunter knew the truth about her. How could she start a relationship with a man that she’d done nothing but lie to? Above all, he was an honest man; she could feel it all the way to her heart. How would he react to having been lied to?

Yet for the moment she felt wonderful as his arms held her, molding her into the curve of his body. The clean
male scent of him surrounded her, intoxicating her thoughts with dreams of passion that could never be.

The sound of horses approaching drifted through the sheets of rain, swishing her dream away as easily as morning pushed night into hiding. Hunter stood and pulled her up beside him. He darted toward the wagon, with Perry only a step behind. Hunter and Abram loaded the basket onto the wagon bed, with Perry trying to help. The balloon was neatly stuffed into the basket. Hunter lifted her into the wagon bed before climbing up beside Abram.

“The barn’s only a quarter of a mile away,” Abram yelled above the storm as he slapped the horses into motion. “I didn’t tell ’em Perry was a woman. They call themselves ‘friends,’ so I’m guessing they’re like those Quakers we met a few years back. Thought they might ask questions if they got too good a look at our girl.”

“Good idea,” Hunter shouted. “They looked like nice folks, but she’ll be safer with us.”

Within moments the soaked threesome pulled the wagon into a large, dry barn. The farmer’s wife had left a stack of towels and blankets on a barrel just inside the door. The barn was half filled with horses. The clean, fresh smell of hay came from a haystack in one corner. Perry had heard stories of Quakers and their tidiness, yet this barn surprised her. The barn was cleaner than many farmhouses she’d seen.

Hunter handed her a towel and blanket. “You can sleep over there in the hay if you like. We’ll see to it that no one wakes you.” He looked away, as if not knowing what else to say. For a moment she thought she saw the uncertainty of a boy in this strong man.

Perry accepted the blanket. “Thanks,” she whispered as she moved away, not wanting to see more. He was already going to be so hard to leave, she didn’t want to fall in love with another side of him as well.

The men were already beginning to strip their wet clothes off, having forgotten her presence. She glanced
over her shoulder and saw Hunter’s damp back reflecting the lantern light with a golden glow. Her fingers opened and closed as she fought the urge to touch him once more.

Crawling behind the hay, she wrapped the blanket around herself. Her coat was damp and her hat drooped with rain, but rest seemed more important than drying out. As she drifted into sleep, Perry could hear the muffled sounds of Hunter and Abram talking on the other side of the hay. They were making plans for morning, but she was too, tired to follow the conversation. She pulled the blanket tighter around her, wishing she could be in Hunter’s arms.