Two Girls of Gettysburg (29 page)

“Yes, I remember,” Mama said, perking up a bit. She looked questioningly at Grace.

“We be in danger no matter what. I stay—or go—with you all,” said Grace.

So Mama packed a satchel with some food and water while Margaret and I gathered up blankets and clothing. I didn’t know how long we would be gone. A day? A week? John Ray hitched the horse up to
the cart, helped Grace climb in, and lifted Jack and Clara over the sides. Mama made sure Grace was cushioned by plenty of straw and hidden under blankets.

“Remember, now,” said Mama to the children, “your job is to keep Grace a secret. It’s like a game, but more important.”

“You drive, Lizzie,” said Margaret. “I can barely control this beast. I’ll sit beside you. Aunt Mary will be more comfortable riding in the cart.”

I took the reins, but John Ray told us to wait. He went inside and came back with the rifle and cartridge box that belonged to the wounded soldier.

“I don’t think he’ll have occasion to use this anytime soon,” he said, handing it to Mama.

“Heavens, I could never fire that thing,” she said. “Show Lizzie how to use it.”

I gulped. I couldn’t believe I had heard my mother say that. John Ray turned to me and held out the rifle.

I thought, if the soldier in the hallway would not need his rifle, did that mean he was going to die? I hoped Pastor Essig would send a doctor to care for him. I reached for the rifle. It was heavy, but smooth and cool to the touch. I was afraid of it.

“If anyone offers you trouble, miss, just lift it to your shoulder and aim, but don’t actually pull the trigger. She’s not loaded. The recoil would give you quite a bruising, maybe knock you flat.”

I lifted the rifle, the butt against my right shoulder. I had to slide my left hand down the barrel to support its weight.

“That’s right. Just act like you’re going to fire it and that should do the trick. And don’t worry. No decent soldier, not even a reb, should harm a lady.”

I laid the rifle across my lap, but it wanted to slide off, so I sat on it
instead. It dug into my thighs uncomfortably. I tucked the cartridge box under the seat.

“You’ll see soldiers settin’ up barricades, but they’ll let you by,” said John Ray. I nodded. Then he said to Mama, “Let me help you up, ma’am.”

“No, thank you. I won’t be going.”

“What do you mean, Mama? Of course you are coming!” I said. “It’s not safe to stay here.”

“Someone has to care for these wounded men and keep the rebels from destroying our house.” She tried to smile.

“Aunt Mary, John Ray can take care of the other two,” Margaret said. “And don’t worry about the house. That’s not important.”

“I know.” Her smile faded. “I just have a feeling—I need to be here if—when—Ben comes home. He can’t come back and find that we’ve all gone away.”

“But we must stay together,” I protested, hardly listening. “If you don’t come along, our whole family will be separated—you from me and Ben, Papa from Luke and all of us. None of us together—” I broke off in tears.

Mama squeezed my arm with surprising strength.

“We will be together again one day. But for now, you must do this alone. I know you can. God bless you.” She slapped the horse’s rump and he lurched forward.

Dismayed, I simply let the beast pull us through the alley and onto York Street, past the dead horse and into the intersection with Stratton Street. To the north, a dozen or more rebels stood in the street near the train depot. They paid us no mind. I looked back. Mama had gone inside. I drew on the reins until we stopped.

“I can’t do it, Margaret,” I whispered. “I just can’t leave Mama here alone. You’ll have to go without me, too.”

Margaret wrung her hands. She looked at me, and I saw that familiar furrow between her brows that reminded me of Rosanna.

“No! Lizzie, I’ll lose my head. Why, this morning I frightened my own children, I was in such a state of hysteria.”

“What should we do, then? Grace and the children have to be taken to safety, but I don’t want my mother left alone.”

Margaret climbed down from the wagon.

“I will stay here with your mother, Lizzie.” She stepped on a spoke of the wheel and peered over the side of the cart. “Good-bye, darlings! I will see you shortly. Remember the game!”

I sat there, speechless, the rifle hard under my legs, the reins limp in my hands.

“Go, Lizzie,” she said earnestly, causing the furrow between her eyes to appear. “I trust you.”

And she ran off. Just like Rosanna.

Lizzie
Chapter 31

At first I was so angry I almost climbed down from the wagon and refused to go to the Weigels’ myself. I seethed, my legs clenched against the hard rifle. But soon I had to forgive Mama, knowing how anguished she was about Ben. I realized that Margaret had also made a difficult choice, knowing that her skittish reactions might endanger her children. This was no time for me to be selfish and scared, for the safety of Grace, Jack, and Clara was now in my hands alone. I would prove that I could be trusted. I smacked the reins hard and the fool horse jumped sideways, almost throwing me off the seat.

I decided to avoid the main thoroughfares, so I turned south on Stratton Street, only to come upon a Confederate search party banging on doors. They were intent upon their business of rounding up prisoners and thus ignored us. But ahead of me the intersection was barricaded, forcing us to halt. A surly bunch of rebels leaned on their rifles and made no move to let me through. I was afraid to ask them, so I turned into an alley. It was dusk, and shadows obscured the way, yet I welcomed the darkness. I thought we could slip through it unseen.

I did not see the three corpses until the horse balked and came to a halt. I climbed down to lead him on, almost tripping over the bodies. Perhaps I could have dragged them out of the way, but I couldn’t
bring myself to touch them. Instead I tried to persuade the horse to back up.

“Why are we stopping?” came Jack’s small voice from the back of the cart.

“Hush! Remember the game, no questions,” I warned.

The horse refused to move. My courage was ebbing fast. We had barely begun our journey and we were stuck in an alley. I begged the stupid horse to back up.

“Stay calm now, Lizzie,” came Grace’s soft voice.

Jack stood up and regarded my predicament, then climbed into the driver’s seat.

“Won’t anyone obey me?” I said, practically whining.

“This sometimes works. Buster!” he called, clucking softly and patting the horse’s rear flank. To my relief, Buster finally began to back up, freeing us from the alley.

Now I would have to go down Baltimore Street after all. As I drove through the Diamond, I saw rebels rolling a keg out the door of Gillespie’s Grocery. They bashed open the barrel with their rifle butts and proceeded to eat the salted fish inside, heads and all. Shops and houses with broken windows and doors hanging on their hinges gave evidence that Confederate looters were busy. I saw a house with a red cloth fluttering from a window and realized it was a makeshift hospital when I saw two men with a stretcher disappear inside.

At Middle Street, another barricade blocked the way. This one, too, was well guarded. But I had already decided what to do. I drove right up to it before drawing on Buster’s reins.

“Let me through, please!” I shouted over the wild thumping of my heart, hoping my voice didn’t sound shaky.

One of the guards, a stocky, rough-faced man, came over to the cart and stood with his legs apart.

“Why should I let you by, missy?” he asked in a languid voice.

“This is my town. I live here.”

“No, it’s our town now. You kain’t pass here.” He reached up to grab Buster’s harness but the horse jerked his head aside.

My mouth was dry. It would be foolish to try and and break through the barricade, even though Buster was strong enough.

“I have important business, sir.”

“Oh, indeed. Jus’ what is yer business, little lady, that it has to be done now?” he asked in a mocking voice.

Figuring that that most men wanted nothing to do with women’s emergencies, I took a deep breath and launched into my story.

“My sister is having trouble giving birth and she needs my help!” I said. “You see, she’s built very narrow. I’m afraid she and the baby will both die if I don’t get there soon. She lives on Taneytown Road, so I must go this way.”

From his hard look, I don’t think he believed me. Why would I need a cart for such an errand? I was afraid he would search me and find the rifle, or peer into the cart and discover Grace. I was considering whether to make a dash for the barricade when another guard strode up, wearing the gold braid of an officer on his sleeve. My hopes sank; we would be searched and detained for certain.

“Jake! What’re you up to now?” he asked roughly, then turned to me and said politely, “Is this man botherin’ you, miss? ‘Cause if he is, I’ll have the rascal taken out an’ shot. Allow me to escort you through myself.”

Too surprised to protest, I let him take the reins from me. Jake scuttled, ratlike, to open up the barricade, and the next thing I knew, we were on the other side. The officer tipped his hat to me and growled at Jake, who protested, “I was jus’ lettin’ the lady through, sir.”

I let out my breath in a sigh of relief, then smiled in triumph.

As Buster ambled toward the outskirts of town and began to climb the hill leading to the cemetery, I had an eerie sense of being watched. It was easy to imagine that the dusky shadows hid an entire army. Then the gleam of a rifle barrel in a second-story window of the tannery caught my eye, and I made out the shape of a man on the sloping roof. Sharpshooters. They could hit a target a mile away, I had heard.

Hoping that Jack and Clara and Grace could hear me, I said in a low voice, “It’s very important now that you stay perfectly still until I say so. I’m going to cut through Evergreen Cemetery to Taneytown Road.”

“No, I want to get out now!” said Clara, beginning to fuss.

I heard Jack call her a baby. Clara wailed even louder. Grace’s voice came, a soothing murmur. I urged Buster on faster, expecting at any moment to be shot at.

“I want Mama,” Clara cried again, and began to kick the sides of the cart. I seethed with irritation at the girl. Finally, Grace was able to quiet her.

We had left behind the houses on Baltimore Street and the cemetery gateway was in sight when a strange medley of sounds reached me. I drew up Buster and listened. I realized I was hearing the clanging of shovels against rock and the
thwack
of ax blades biting into trees. In the fading light I could see men building low mounds of dirt and piling fresh-cut logs on the slopes of Cemetery Hill and Culp’s Hill. I remembered the Union officer shouting “To the hills!” and guessed that our soldiers who had retreated through Gettysburg were building breastworks to defend their position.

Seeing the preparations for battle made me nervous. I shook the reins vigorously but the horse balked and tried to move sideways, as if someone were restraining him.

“Who’s there? Let go of my horse!” I cried out in a panicked voice.
I started to rise up, then remembered the rifle and stayed seated, tensing my legs around it. Then I saw them: two men in faded brown jackets, wearing caps with the Confederate insignia. One of them held firmly on to Buster’s bridle.

“Leave me alone,” I demanded, trying to keep my voice steady. “And let go of my horse.”

“You listen to me, miss. We jus’ need a short ride through that cemetery there,” said the taller of the two men. “We’re scoutin’ aroun’ this here area, an’ you come along at the right time to help us.” He smiled, revealing teeth stained with tobacco.

“Go away. I’ve got my own business.”

In reply, the man held up a large pistol. For a moment I truly believed he would shoot me. He was a soldier after all, and no doubt accustomed to killing.

I heard myself say, “If you kill me, who will drive you through the cemetery?”

“That’s right,” he said, tucking the pistol into his belt. “I knew you’d come to see it my way.”

“Wa’ll lookee what we foun’ back here!” said the second rebel, and I realized with horror that he had climbed into the cart. “Two wee ‘uns and their mighty big mammy. What’ll we do with them?”

“Why, shoot ‘em, if they give us away. D’yall hear that?” He vaulted over the side of the cart. “Now drive, young lady.”

Instead I whirled around, taking care to keep the rifle from falling off the seat.

“If you harm a hair of any of their heads, I’ll scream until the whole Union army comes to take you prisoner!”

The second scout laughed. “Ain’t she a feisty one!” he said. “Like a wildcat protectin’ her young.”

“You scream or holler an’ it’s the end of your children and their
mammy,” said the other, brandishing his pistol again. “Now sit down and drive like nothing is wrong.”