The Girls of Gettysburg Read Online Free Page A

said, returning the smile.

CHAPTER SIX

    Dylan sauntered like a young buck dancing proud in the springtime as he led her back to their tents. A few soldiers, those who took a chance and bet on the recruit, patted Annie’s back in congratulations. Their day done, most of the soldiers meandered back to their tents, their cheers melting away. The spectacle was over for everyone but the strutting cock rooster.
    â€œSeems like we’re messmates, strawfoot.” Dylan eased next to her. “Just so you know, nothing’s settled, despite your mighty fine rifle there.”
    â€œJiggers!” Jasper chuckled, his feet flopping hard on the ground, his new boots undone. “Haven’t had that much fun in days.”
    Dylan shot him a glance, and the potato boy bit his lip in silence.
    The pup tent was small. Just those two stretched out would fill it up. Any more than that, and they’d fit together like spoons in a drawer. Even when everyone slept with their clothes on, this was still too close for comfort for Annie.
    â€œI’ll stay outside,” she said.
    Dylan stretched out inside the tent like a yawning cat. “Suit yourself. Don’t let the bedbugs bite. They’re worse than the bears in these parts.”
    Annie didn’t mind sleeping outside. Chewing on bread and apples, she leaned against a tree. Not everyone slept. Campfires sparkled like stars above the Blue Ridge. Somewhere a harmonica played “Home, Sweet Home.”
    Home
, and Annie thought of Mama. She felt guilty for sneaking away like a common thief. Maybe she should’ve at least left a note. Maybe . . .
    But then the old anger rose up like swampy bile. No. She did what she had to do. Even her brother William would have given his nod.
    Somewhere a fiddle cooed like a mourning dove. Using her haversack as a pillow, she scratched her head, stretched out, and looked up at the sea of stars. There was comfort in those stars, William always said. They had camped out the night before he left, in their favorite place across the far pasture, a clearing tucked in a grove of elm. The earth rose in the center and was crowned with a giant live oak. They climbed to the top to touch the stars. From atop that oak, William told her of the North Star that sailors used to find their way home. “No matter where we go from here, no matter what happens, when you think of me, find the North Star, there! And I’ll look up; we’ll see it at the same time, and it’ll be like we’re side by side, just like right now.” The next morning he waved good-bye as he disappeared into Pap’s cornfield. She didn’t know it would be his last good-bye, or she would have told him that he was her hero.
    But she didn’t tell him anything. She was too angry that he was leaving her behind. And she thought there was time enough to set things right.
    The fiddle stopped playing, and the only sounds—besides Dylan’s snoring—were the chirrups of crickets and the peepings of tree frogs. Annie took a long breath, and let it out slow.
    Regret was a big apple to swallow.
    Reveille sounded long before sunrise, but Annie was already up and about. She sought out the woods to do her business in private. By the time she returned to the campsite, Dylan was astir.
    â€œA new day, strawfoot!” He slapped Annie on the shoulder. It seemed a little harder this time, and his grin a little sharper.
    Jasper hacked deeply as he crawled out of the tent, and spat.
    â€œRoll call!” Gideon boomed. He was stomping his way along the row of tents, rousing the men as he went along.
    Annie stopped next to her haversack, and then she noticed her rifle was gone. Behind her, Dylan chuckled. She swung hard about to see him standing there, her Whitworth in hand. Behind him stood Jasper, holding his smile.
    â€œAin’t no one tell you, strawfoot?” he asked. “This here rifle has been
conscripted
by the