Tim looked down at the gun in her hand. It was a Colt revolver, cocked, well oiled and in good condition. The hand that held it was muscular but a woman’s hand nevertheless. Neither man lowered his eyes before her gaze. At last she spoke again in her husky twang, more quietly than before. “You are the saddest, mos’ miserable pair of hounds I ever saw. Surely those cain’t be soldiers’ uniforms.” Neither man spoke. She looked at Red. “You got a tongue, Redbeard?” Red smiled faintly. “Too tired to use it, ma’am.” “Well at least you got one.” She turned to Tim. “You Slim, you got a tongue? Tell me what yer doin’ here.” “Making our way across the mountains, ma’am.” “Now don’t you s’pose that’s plain? What I mean, are you Yankees or Rebels? That’s what I have to know.” Neither man answered. “Now you don’t know which one I am or why I should give a hang at all.” She tossed her head. “Tell you what I’ll do. Without my help you’ll never cross the Smokies alive. If you answer wrong, I’ll send you on yer way.” She squinted and smiled a humorless smile. “I’d like the truth.” Red stood straight and looked right into the woman’s eyes. “We’re Yankee soldiers, ma’am.” The woman’s expression barely changed. “I thought as much, though I never did see a Yankee uniform. Old Buck helped other Yankees cross the mountains back last summer.” The woman’s face was still hard but she said, “Lordy, you boys are shiverin’ somethin’ awful. Come along inside.” CHAPTER TWENTY The men slept fully clothed on a wide bunk bed on a big straw mattress. Tim stirred in his sleep, opened his eyes and propped up on one elbow. The big, brown room was warm. The woman still sat in her high-backed rocker, her sewing in her lap and her revolver glinting in her hand. She was looking straight at Tim. She had nursed them like a mother since yesterday morning, cooking for them and mending their clothes, and making them rest to get back their strength. She had spent most of the time making overcoats from blankets. She had cut and sewn as if the devil were after her, working with unbelievable speed. Tim swung his feet to the floor and pulled his boots on. He stood on the rough plank floor. Red still slept. Tim walked to the hearth, put on a couple of logs and stirred up the embers. He stood with his back to the fire. His eyes rested on the revolver in her hand. “You won’t be needing the pistol to keep us in line.” The woman raised her eyes. “Are all Yankee soldiers like you and Redbeard, good mannered and kind?” “I guess not, ma’am. You told me your husband and some other men from these parts had joined with the Yankees in the West. We aren’t the only Yanks you’ve seen.” She almost spat. “Why they’re not Yankees like you at all. They’re mountainmen.” She threw back her head and laughed. “You and Redbeard are men, don’t get me wrong. Just a different breed, that’s all.”