Two Girls of Gettysburg (26 page)

“Have they gone away?” Mama wondered aloud

“I’ll find out,” I offered, pulling on my shoes. “I promise to be careful.”

First I checked the butcher shop and was relieved to find it undisturbed, though the windows of a nearby store had been broken. Knowing the telegraph was down, I headed to the courthouse as the likeliest place to hear news. About thirty people were listening to Mr. Kendlehart describe the prior day’s events. He said our militia had met up with five thousand Confederates along Chambersburg Pike. Only one soldier was killed, but two hundred had been captured. Then the rebels had released all the prisoners and sent them home! This made me hope they would let Papa go, too.

After the battle, their General Early had come into town and demanded three tons of bacon, a thousand pairs of shoes, whiskey, and other supplies—or five thousand dollars in cash. Mr. Kendlehart told the general the truth: that all the town’s goods and money had been shipped away. After searching the stores and finding them empty, there was nothing for the rebels to do but to move on.

“General Early was too late!” said one man, and his joke was greeted with laughter.

Everyone had a story about the soldiers demanding food or stealing chickens or horses. Not all the rebels were as polite as those who had visited us, but not a single person reported being harmed. We had been shaken up a little, that was all. Ginnie Wade ran up to me with the news that her sister had just given birth to a baby boy. I hugged her and even waved to Annie Baumann. I felt like dancing, I was so relieved. The war had come to Gettysburg and gone away again.

“Mr. Kendlehart,” called out a voice in the crowd. “Where did the rebels go when they left here?”

“Why, they headed east, on to York. That was their intent all along,” he replied.

At once my joy and relief gave way to cold fear. Amos and Ben were traveling on the York Road.

Lizzie
Chapter 27

It was Sunday, June 28, six days since Amos and Ben had left. Mama and I went to St. James, where every pew was full. Reverend Essig preached on the importance of being ready for Judgment Day in order to escape God’s wrath. I would have preferred a more positive theme, in light of what we had just come through.

All afternoon Mama kept going to the door, where she would stand motionless, listening. Grace rocked in the parlor.

“Mama, do you think they ran into the rebel cavalry?” I asked.

She shook her head slowly back and forth. She didn’t know any more than I did.

“Amos’ll hunker down soon as he senses danger,” said Grace. “I know they’s all right,” she whispered, rubbing her belly.

That night and all day Monday, rain fell from gray skies. I opened the shop and sat in a chair in the doorway, watching the raindrops plop into muddy puddles in the street. I missed the whistle and rumble of the train and thought of the ruined railroad bridge. With every wooden creak or clop of horse’s feet, I looked up in hope that Amos and Ben had returned, only to be disappointed.

To my surprise, Martin Weigel came into the shop. He took off his
hat and a puddle of rain water formed on the floor around him. I managed a half smile of greeting.

“There are no deliveries today, Martin.”

“I know,” he said, still dripping. “I think I’ll just dry off a bit.”

I wondered why he had come, but, being lonesome, I didn’t want him to leave.

“I saw you at the ice-cream social,” I said nervously, watching his face for a response.

“I saw you too. You had a pretty dress on.”

My heart skipped, then beat a little faster.

“Why didn’t you come and talk to me?”

“I wanted to, Lizzie, but the fellows would have teased me.”

I didn’t know whether to be pleased or hurt by his answer.

“Did you hear the news?” he asked, changing the subject. “York surrendered to General Early and gave up twenty-eight thousand dollars in cash and a ton of supplies.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Goodness! I’ll bet half of that was money and goods that our merchants sent there for safekeeping. But where did you get the news? The telegraph is down.”

“I saw Mr. Rupp, the tanner, returning from York this morning.”

“Did he run into any rebels?”

“No, but he said there was fighting in Hanover.”

“Why, that’s only a few miles off the York Road. Did he say if he had seen Amos and Ben along the way?”

Martin hesitated before replying. He must have seen how worried I looked.

“He asked if my butcher had come back from York yet, and when I shook my head, he said Amos might have a bad time of it if he doesn’t stay clear of the Johnnies running everywhere.”

I put my hand to my mouth and blinked back tears. Martin took a step forward.

“Maybe … I can help,” he began. He looked up again, his forehead creased in an expression of seriousness. “I’ll ride out and look for them. You can come along, if you want.”

I gulped. Martin even seemed surprised by what he had said. But he met my gaze steadily with his grayish eyes.

“My mother would never allow me,” I said. “I can’t leave her and Grace.”

“And my mother would tan my hide all the way to next Sunday,” Martin said with a wry grin. “But she doesn’t have to know. I’ll sneak away.”

“I can’t let you do that for us,” I protested. “Amos and Ben will be back tonight or tomorrow, I’m sure of it.”

“Amos has been a good boss to me. I want to help you and your ma. If they are not back by tomorrow night, I’ll go looking for them the next morning,” Martin said firmly.

“Wait,” I said, touching his sleeve. “You were afraid to speak to me at the social with the other fellows around, but you’re not afraid to go out looking for Amos and Ben with rebels everywhere?”

Martin merely shrugged, put on his hat, and went back out into the rain. I stood in the doorway, baffled. I would wait until Wednesday morning, I decided, to see if Martin Weigel was as brave as his word.

That night, Mama and I went to a Ladies Aid meeting at the Lutheran church on Chambersburg Pike. We listened as Mrs. Pierpont read from a Baltimore newspaper that Lincoln had replaced his top commander
with a new one, General George Meade. Mrs. Weigel sat next to me, rolling bandages with rapid fingers.

“The rebels must think we’re getting desperate, changing generals like they were
Hosen—ach,
I mean trousers,” she said, tapping her forehead.

“So far none of our generals has been any match for Lee. If he were on our side, the war would have been over long ago,” said Mrs. Rupp, the tanner’s wife. Her bold statement was met with a surprised silence. “Well, it’s true,” she insisted.

Mrs. Weigel leaned over and said to me,
“Bei Himmel,
this is one time I’m glad I don’t live in town. I feel safer
auf das Land.
It makes me nervous to travel by Long Lane, where
die Negerin
live, you know.” She tended to lapse into German when she became distressed.

“Why?” I asked. Then I remembered Martin telling me his mother did not like Negroes.

“
Sie konnt Mühe machen,
make trouble. If the rebels come back again.
Ja?
”

I could not agree with her, so I just held my tongue.

“I don’t think we’ve seen the last of those rebels,” said Mrs. Brodhead in her worried way. “Every night I see their campfires burning on the mountainside near Cashtown.”

Mrs. Pierpont, with her usual authority, attempted to settle the question.

“The Confederate army has come through once already and found nothing worth taking. They will not return. There is no strategic or economic reason to do battle over our humble town.”

“I hope you’re right,” said Mrs. Brodhead, but she didn’t sound convinced.

“Lizzie,
meine Liebe,”
said Mrs. Weigel, laying her hand on mine,
“if those rebels come back to town, you and your
Mutti
come to
mein Haus.
It is like a fort. They will not get in.”

I smiled politely, thinking that Martin’s poor mother had no idea what he had promised to do for me. I felt a bit guilty for keeping it from her.

When the meeting ended, Mama and I climbed the church’s bell tower in order to see the rebel campfires Mrs. Brodhead was so worried about. They appeared as tiny red dots scattered along the base of the mountains between Gettysburg and Chambersburg. Even as I watched the distant flickering, I felt certain that God would never allow Gettysburg to be destroyed in battle. It would be a punishment none of us deserved. I was certainly no saint, but I did attend church almost every week and prayed every day. I would even pray for the entire Confederate army, to show my good intentions. Standing there in the church tower, even with the enemy in sight, I felt reassured. I reached for Mama’s hand and squeezed it.

The next morning, that fragile peace was shaken. It was Tuesday, the last day of June. Despite the bright, sunny skies, there came a rumble like that of a gathering storm. I heard shouting in the streets and yelled for Grace to hide. The shouts changed to whistling and cheers. Soldiers were coming all right, but this time they were Union cavalrymen riding up from the south, stirring up huge clouds of dust. So instead of hiding, we joined our neighbors in handing out pies and cakes and sandwiches to the passing soldiers, expecting that they would ride on through town and head north.

But General Buford and his cavalry apparently intended to stop in Gettysburg. Word flew around that they were building defenses to the west, beyond the Lutheran Seminary, and that pickets were guarding every road that led into town. Soldiers descended on the shops,
purchasing shirts, tobacco, and trinkets. They dusted off their blue uniforms and posed for photographs at Mr. Tyson’s studio. Then they formed long lines in front of the taverns, until the general halted the sale of liquor in town.

Seeing the opportunity for some business, I brought several hams and smoked sausages out of storage. Mama didn’t want me to be at the store alone, so Grace came with me and we sold all the meat as well as several jars of preserves. I didn’t know whether to be flattered or angry when one of the soldiers called me a “pretty little country girl” and winked at me. Pretending not to hear him, I asked his companion if he knew whether the road to York was clear of rebels. He said he didn’t even know where York was, and they left the shop laughing. Grace mumbled good riddance to them, and we went home in worried silence. It had now been eight days with no sign of Amos and Ben.

As I was drifting off to sleep that night, I heard the sound of gravel hitting my window. I opened the sash and peered out into the darkness. After a moment I made out the figure of Martin in the street below.

“I didn’t want to wake your ma. Ben and Amos back yet?” he asked in a loud whisper.

“No. Wait there. I’m coming down.” I started for the stairs, then realized I was in my nightgown. I grabbed my frock but decided it would take too long to get dressed. I saw in the mirror that my hair was a mess, too. Smoothing it down, I grabbed a long shawl and wrapped it around me for modesty, then dashed barefoot down the stairs.

Martin took a step back when he saw me. I wished I had taken the time to put on my dress.

“Sorry,” I said, “I was almost asleep.”

“Wow, you look … different. With your hair all around your shoulders like that.”

“Martin, you shouldn’t go,” I said quickly. “Let’s ask ask one of the cavalry officers for help finding them.”

“I expect they have other concerns, Lizzie. Don’t you trust me?”

“I do. I just don’t want … anything to happen to you. Your mother would be upset.”

“That’s thoughtful of you,” he said with a smile. I could barely see his face in the moonlight.

“Martin, I know I should feel safer with our soldiers all over town, but I don’t. Do you think they’re planning to fight a battle here?”

“I don’t know,” he said. He reached out and tugged up the edge of my shawl. It had slipped down, exposing my shoulder, and I hadn’t even noticed. I hoped he could not see me blushing in the dark.