The Girls of Gettysburg Read Online Free

comin’, or we’d be dead for sure!” someone clucked.
    Behind her, soldiers exchanged more coins, upping the ante. Andthe higher the ante, the louder the shouts. And the louder the shouts, the more men gathered to see what the ruckus was all about.
    Annie cocked the hammer, breathing slow and even, dug in her foot.
    â€œTarget, sir?” Annie asked.
    Gideon gave a nod. “Same tree, son. Sometime today, if you have a mind to. My bones are—”
    Annie fired, a puff of white smoke circling her head.
    Not a breath later, a branch exploded free from the trunk.
    And the crowd exploded in whoops and hollers and more turkey dancing. The lawyer and the major were shaking hands in congratulations for a fair trade.
    Dylan was already reloading his rifle-musket, his crooked grin suddenly straight.
    â€œTarget, Pop?” he swung his rifle up.
    Gideon pointed to the next target. “See that tree with the two rags tied around the trunk? Two hundred yards!”
    Dylan fired. Two breaths later, a branch above the rags shook with the impact.
    Annie reloaded her Whitworth. She inhaled to steady herself, planted her foot again, stiffened her shoulder, then aimed and fired.
    This time, the branch exploded.
    And the crowd cheered. Even Mr. Wentworth whooped. Major Owens looked as pleased as if he had just eaten a slice of Mama’s peach pie.
    Dylan’s scowl deepened as he reloaded.
    â€œTarget, Pop?” he spat, his voice close to cracking. Jasper snorted nervously. The crowd quieted, the silence thick as cold molasses.
    Gideon pointed to the next target farther down the line, and boomed like artillery: “That tree with the red flags. That’s five hundred yards!”
    â€œImpossible shot,” someone said.
    Breathing slow and steady, Dylan eased down onto his knees and aimed. Slow and steady, steady . . .
    He fired. And then a branch burst into pieces as the bullet hit its mark.
    The crowd inhaled, but did not yet cheer. Instead, their heads snapped about as one, turning to Annie.
    Annie reloaded her Whitworth. She looked to the target, taking into account how the bullet might arc through the sky. There was no breeze. If she aimed too high, the bullet would just fly overhead. If she aimed too low, it would bury itself in the dirt long before reaching the target.
    Now she, too, eased to the ground, using her elbows to brace herself.
    Dylan chuckled. “Mighty odd time to take a nap, stawfoot.”
    She flipped the sight up, closing one eye and focusing on another branch. She knew what she did next would set her place here in camp. If she missed the shot, Dylan would strut around like a cock rooster, crowing how great he was and slapping her shoulder. And then he’d forget her as just another pigeon in camp. Everyone else would forget her, as well. She would disappear into the crowd and become like everyone else.
    She would know her place.
Know her place
. The words boiled inside her.
    She moved the sight, focusing on a tree
behind
the five hundred mark, the one flagged at seven hundred yards.
    â€œSeven hundred yards,” she announced.
    And then she fired, a puff of smoke curling from the barrel. Her shoulder rocked with the recoil, but a branch toppled with the impact.
    And the crowd erupted like a summer cloudburst.
    â€œGlad you’re on our side!” Major Owens slapped Annie’s back. Others, too, greeted her with yodels and handshakes. “Not sure how that rifle will work at close range, son. But by thunder, we’ll find a way.”
    Dylan smiled, too, offering his hand. But Annie recognized that smile. She had seen it often enough on James to know that behind that honey sweetness stirred a bear, spoilin’ for a fight.
    â€œIt’s a different story when the target’s coming at you,” Dylan said.
    Annie gripped his hand, and squeezed. That bear was a-growling fierce, and she meant to meet him head-on.
    â€œTrue enough,” she