The Girls of Gettysburg (16 page)

Boom! Boom! Boom!

She thought the roar of the cannons would never end. Grace lay there, her face buried in the dirt of the root cellar's floor. Her hands were pressed tight against her ears, trying to dull the noise. But each time she hoped to breathe,
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Her very bones quivered.

Wisdom huddled with her sister, eyes clenched as tight as their arms about each other.

Boom! Boom! Boom!
Hour after hour. The dark pressed in all around.

Mrs. Woods never came.

Friend Alice never came.

Pappa never came.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Her feet were on fire.

The day before, they had marched thirty miles, leaving Chambersburg before the sun rose and reaching Cashtown Gap with the sun beating down sure as any determined drummer. When the column finally reached the tiny town of Cashtown, soldiers sprawled on the ground, too weary even to eat. Everyone listened for battle news. Annie and Dylan found the wagons. Jasper sat there in wait for them.

“Jiggers.” He forced a smile. “At least I got here in one piece, more or less.”

As the battle raged in the town of Gettysburg, three miles away, the three shared a fire and listened.
Boom! Boom! Boom!

When the sun rose, that was where they were going.

Dylan's growl was gone, his crooked grin was straightened, his eyes were dulled with uncommon worry. He spat into the fire, then spoke in a low voice, handing Annie a tintype.

“I wish you to take my likeness and send it to my mother with a letter.”

Annie took the picture and tucked it into her inside pocket.

Gideon gave his son a nod, puffing circles with his pipe. Then, looking to her, he said, “You spent, son?”

“I'm tolerable,” she said.

Gideon smiled. “You wrote to your mama, son?”

Annie shook her head. “Mama wouldn't approve of me going into
the army. She has certain ideas how things ought to be. She can be mighty stubborn sometimes.”

Gideon tapped his pipe carefully. “Nothing worse than a stubborn woman, I suppose.”

Annie grinned. “Mama's pretty tough.”

Gideon tapped his pipe harder, dumping the burned tobacco, the last of Mrs. Trudeau's treasures. He pointed to Dylan. “Dylan, he's a good boy, but he carries a good-size chip on his shoulder . . .”

“Aww, Pop.” Dylan rolled his eyes, then rolled up in his blanket.

“. . . and he sniffs out trouble better than a bloodhound.” Gideon chuckled. “He's got a wild streak that's made for some worrisome moments. Tried everything I could to tame that streak of lightning, but can't tame an elemental. His mama used to coddle that boy. I told her once, it'll be the ruin him. His mama tells me, ‘He's just like you, old man, always at the front of things.' I saw it for what it was; I was just afeared for him, not wanting him to see the hardness of life. Parents can get mighty stubborn about fearing for their babies.”

“So,” Annie whispered, nodding in understanding, “I should write my mama.”

“Can't tell you what to do, son.” Gideon packed his pipe away. “You're a man now, and a man's responsible for his decisions.”

Annie listened to the battle noises. Even after the booming finally quieted, she listened as everyone around her talked on, smoked their last pipes, wrote their last letters, waiting in the dark for the moment when it was their turn to face the elephant.

It was the clearest of nights, the moon bright and bold. And there the North Star shone true. In that moment, she understood. And the world seemed a terrible good place to be. It wasn't patriotism that sent her here. It wasn't to avenge her brothers. She had no thoughts about slaves, but she understood their need to be free, their need to control their own destiny, to be who they are.

She finally saw her place in it all. Before her stretched all the possibility she could imagine. Because Pap made her stubborn and Mama made her tough. And because William made her dream big. She
could
find her own place, way out west, and make it what she wanted it to be.

At last she breathed as easy as she ever did, long ago at home.

The moment came.

Three in the morning, the drum rolled. Annie blinked. It hurt to pull her boots on.

The drum rolled again.

Dylan was already awake. He gave a stout nod.
So it begins
.

As they waited for the final word to march, Gideon brewed potato coffee. Annie had near forgot what true coffee tasted like.

For that matter, she had forgot what true food tasted like.

And the word came: “Fall in!” Gideon called out. “Boys of Virginia, your time awaits!”

Dawn broke still as pond water, and the army was already on the march, moving east along the Pike. As the bloody sun broke free of the horizon, the mist rose, too. The air heated steadily, another hellfire day.

The column turned onto a rutted farm trail, moving south of town. Everywhere the road and the fields were littered with the wrecked bodies of the dead, the mangled bodies of the dying. No one said a word, taking their hats off in respect.

Annie kept her eyes on the boots ahead of her.

Then the column turned east, and the road narrowed even more. They marched past a large farm and soon found themselves snaking along a ridge that stretched for miles. Seminary Ridge. Finally the massive column came to a halt. The Ninth Virginia had reached the southernmost end of the ridge, marked by orchards grown wild, when Gideon called out: “At ease!”

Annie flopped on the ground as others spread out to find water.

“Went to look for my own self what we're facing,” said one soldier. “We're about to reap the whirlwind, chums. Across the way is Cemetery Ridge, where the Federals have the higher ground and the tighter formation. We're stretched from here to eternity. Wouldn't give a plugged nickel for my life's worth about now.”

“As I see it,” Dylan said from where he lay, “this division was selected because we are Virginians. Because we succeed where others fail.”

“Pickett's too busy looking dandy to see what's going on,” Gideon said.

Annie had seen General Pickett ride up and down the lines. He had long ringlets that flowed to his shoulders, a drooping mustache and a goatee, and he dressed too much like a dandy to inspire ordinary men into battle.

Annie, with the rest of the Ninth Virginia, took position in a hollow surrounded by apple trees. They were fine old trees, holding apples that were green and small, and no doubt too sour for anything but throwing.

Dylan plucked a few of the green apples and pelted others down the line. He hooted as he hit his mark. He never missed. Well, almost never. Soon enough, the others were returning fire. Annie ducked as an apple struck her leg.

For a moment they laughed.

“Heads up, strawfoot,” Dylan called out just as another apple hit her haversack.

She looked to the branches overhead, how the sun dappled the leaves. No tree grew as tall as that old live oak in her field at home. Now it seemed even taller in her memory. And there in her memory, in the topmost branches of that old oak, sat William, all a-smile.

He seemed to whisper,
You've done right by yourself
.

The air crackled with musket fire along the ridge.

“Stay calm, boys.” Gideon spoke in an even tone. He walked up and down behind the line. “Keep steady. No shouting, no shooting. Let's not tell them where we are.”

But despite the orders, shouts rumbled at the other end of the infantry line. There General Pickett rode, his horse trotting next to General Longstreet's. There were others riding along, too. But then she saw a great white horse, as great a horse as Pap's colt had been, the colt he had traded for her Whitworth. Atop the horse was a fine old gentleman. The rider was not as tall as she'd imagined, but certainly he was dignified, dressed in a well-worn long gray jacket, high black felt hat, and blue trousers tucked into his boots. She knew him, sure enough.

General Robert E. Lee.

And the men cheered as he rode by.

The other horsemen accompanying him rode up and down, speaking with the officers of the line. Soon enough, the riders approached Major Owens, who then called Sergeant Gideon over. Their heads huddled close for a long while.

Annie drank heavily from her canteen. How could a day get so hot?

Gideon returned, calling the boys over.

“Dig in, sons,” he said. “It'll be a while yet. But soon, soon. And when the orders come, we'll be taking that ridge.” He pointed across the field of tall grass stretching out before them, to a clump of trees that broke the horizon.

Dylan whistled. He brushed his red hair aside, more in amazement than from sweat.

“That's over a mile away! We'll be walking through hell before we get to that ridge!”

Gideon nodded. “Boys, I'll not be lying to you. Some hundred yards out, we'll be heading into the range of the sharpshooters. But you hold steady to that clump. Your friends will fall, but I tell you, keep steady. Even as the enemy shower us with their cannon! Keep steady. You'll lose friends, but we'll take that hill! For Virginia, boys!”

The men whooped. Gideon gave Dylan a shake. He kept hold of his son's hand a while longer, and Annie knew that in his own way, he was saying good-bye. Then the sergeant turned and slapped Annie on the shoulder. The minutes rolled into hours.
Hurry up and wait
.

For a time it seemed the world stopped, the war stopped. Annie looked up, saw the blue sky, and imagined where William's star might be flying about now. When she got out, yesirree, she'd go west, get her own land, and she'd plant an oak, a mighty oak, on top of a hill, let it grow as old as time, so she could see the North Star. . . .

Then it began.

First one, then the next, the cannons opened fire down the line, the world exploding in plumes of white smoke. The billows drifted across the field, thick as fog.