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lady all by yourself, did you?”
    The men laughed. Drake flushed and felt anger rising. He threw down the hat. The laughter grew, and his face grew hotter.
    Royal said, “You fellas clear out of here. Drake, you come with me—and you too. What’s your name?”
    The girl picked up the hat. “Charlie.”
    Royal stared at her. “That’s no name for a girl! What’s your real name?”
    She twisted the hat around in her hands. She appeared as embarrassed by the laughter of the soldiers as Drake was. She almost whispered, “My real name is Charlene, but Pa always just called me Charlie.”
    “Well, come on, Miss Charlene,” Royal said. He led Charlie off to the mess tent, where he sat her down. “Now, tell me where you’re from and what you’re doing here in Atlanta.”
    “My name’s Charlene Satterfield. Me and Pa come here after we sold the farm, and Pa thought he’d go into business here. He always wanted to be a saddle maker. Then the Yankees come, and we couldn’t get out.” Her eyes filled with tears. Her voice faltered. “And then Pa got kilt.”
    “Well, I’m real sorry about that, Miss Charlene. How old are you?”
    “Almost eighteen.”
    “You got any relatives or friends in Atlanta?”
    “No, there was just me and Pa.”
    Drake stood by, listening with chagrin.
    Royal turned to him. “Did you really try to shoot her, Drake?” he asked caustically.
    “I didn’t
know
it was a girl. She had a rifle in her hand, and she come up behind me …” Drake suspected his face was still red. He felt a surge of shame when he considered that he might have shota girl. “She didn’t have no business comin’ out of that alley behind me,” he said roughly.
    “I didn’t even know you was there,” Charlie said. She was watching Drake, studying his countenance. “What’s
your
name, soldier?”
    Drake glared at her. “Drake Bedford.”
    The girl’s lips turned up. “My, ain’t that purty! Drake. I ain’t never known no boy named Drake.”
    Royal watched this and then said, “Drake, I’ve got something to tell you. We’ve got to do something with this young lady.”
    “Well,
I
don’t know what to do with her. I didn’t join the army to take care of stray girls!”
    For a moment Royal hesitated, then said, “There’s something I haven’t told you yet. I got a letter from Lori.”
    Instantly Drake turned his eyes toward Royal.
    “She’s here in Atlanta.”
    “What’s she doin’
here?”
    “She’s got an aunt here. Her father’s sister, and she’s real old and needed help.” Taking a slip out of his inner pocket, Royal handed it over. “As you can see, she just wanted to let me know that she was here. And she says to tell you too.”
    “Why didn’t she write to me?” Drake said sullenly.
    “I guess she thought a sergeant would get a letter quicker than a private.”
    Drake studied the letter. “I guess you’re planning to go callin’ on her.”
    Royal probably had planned doing exactly that, but he shook his head. “I can’t leave camp. The lieutenant’s gone, and I can’t get away till he gets back.” He looked again at their prisoner. “I’ll tell you what. I think Miss Lori would be glad to look out for you until things settle down a bit here.”
    “Who is this Miss Lori?” the girl asked with interest. Her eyes still had not left Drake’s face, but she listened as Royal explained.
    “She’s a young lady from Tennessee. She’s come down, as you heard me say, to be with her elderly aunt. I expect you could stay with her. She says her aunt’s got a big house. I think they could probably find room until you decide on what to do.”
    “I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”
    There was a plaintive quality to the girl’s voice. She seemed sturdy enough, but the loss of her father had no doubt shaken her. And now she stood there in her oversized, worn clothes, a pathetic figure.
    Royal said, “Drake, Lori tells in this letter where her aunt’s house is, so