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I like!” The captain wolfed down the omelet and waved a thick fluffy biscuit in the air. “A few days of this and I’ll be ready to take command again.”
    “Don’t speak too soon,” she warned. “This is my easiest dish—Mama’s recipe. It’s a sure success, too.” A smile broke across her face. “I’ve just put my best foot forward for the first meal.”
    Davis laughed and poured himself another cup of tea. “Whatever you cook will be better than my efforts.” He gave a few humorous anecdotes of his abortive attempts at cooking.
    “That reminds me . . .” and the captain related a story of the time his cook died at sea.
    When he finished, an awkward silence fell across the table. Belle looked at the men. “You’ve been good to invite me here—but I want to make one thing clear,” she told them. “I don’t want to cause you any problems. I can find a room at any time if I become troublesome.”
    Whitfield Winslow gave her a steady look. “Most things in this life are trouble, Belle—most worthwhile things, that is. You’re a smart girl, and you know that some people are going to doubt your motives. Nothing to be done about that, my dear. But this is your home as long as you choose to make it so.”
    The simplicity of his reply brought a swift reaction from Belle. She had seemed stiff and somewhat artificial in her manner. Now for the first time since entering the house, the set expression on her face broke, and the softness they remembered returned. Her eyes glistened and she said in a husky voice, “Thank you, Captain.”
    Davis saw that she was on the verge of tears, so he changed the subject. “How is Thad, Belle? And the rest of the family?”
    Swiftly Belle brushed her handkerchief across her eyes, smiled, and began to report on her family. They talked for an hour, and finally she said, “I’m a little tired. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go to bed early tonight.”
    “I’ll do the dishes,” Davis offered.
    After Belle left, he asked quietly, “What do you think?”
    “She’s troubled, Davis. She’s lost her husband, and now she’s really losing her family—and she’s not too sure about anything.” Whitfield took out his pipe, lit it from a candle, and with a sad look in his wise old eyes concluded, “It’ll depend on how our people respond. Some fools will hate anyone who’s ever had a thing to do with the South.”
    “If Father and Mother accept her, it would help a lot. Mother, especially. Why don’t you ask her to invite us all to the big party she’s giving next Wednesday, Grandfather?”
    “That’s not a bad idea!” A wicked gleam shone in his eyes, and the edges of his lips curled in a smile. “They’ll have to let me bring her, won’t they? I mean, as an invalid I’ve got some rights!” He slapped the table with glee. “If they ask her to that party, it’ll mean they’re endorsing her—and I’m going to make them do it!”
    As he lay in bed chortling over his plans to maneuver Robert and Jewel to invite them to the party, Belle was in her room, seated at the small desk, musing over the events of the last few days.
    Everything had been theoretical—until she had gotten off the train. She had spent the long train ride planning ways to subvert and destroy all she could of the Union cause. When struck by the fact that she might be responsible for the death of federal soldiers, she had thought bitterly, They started this war—they killed my husband. Now let them suffer!
    But Davis’s cheerful face and the captain’s warm welcome had made her plan difficult. She sat for a long time, her mind in turmoil. Finally she raised her head, and her lips drew into a tight line as she whispered, “I’ve got to do it!”
    She got up and walked swiftly to the luggage on the floor, picked up a small blue case and placed it on the bed. Opening it, she removed the cosmetics and feminine personal items. Then she pressed one of the rivets that held the handle, and