Gettysburg by Morning by Randy O'Brien

Author:Randy O'Brien
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction & Literature
Publisher: Histria Books
Published: 2023-04-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 43

The newspaper headline read, “Gettysburg Cemetery Dedication.” The article outlined the dignitaries expected to attend and that the president would deliver a speech. I felt a cold chill run up my back as I remembered some of the faces of the men I’d seen die in the fateful charge into the mouth of death.

For the last month at the War Department, my duties included working with the president in the telegraph room and delivering messages to members of Congress. I quickly learned my way around the capital, proud of myself for being so smart, when I walked by a horse and buggy tethered to a post in front of a restaurant one sunny afternoon. Imagine my surprise when I realized it was Junebug.

Startled and so very pleased, I walked up to her and patted her on the neck. I instinctively reached in my pocket for a sugar cube that I would usually treat her with. I didn’t have any sugar, but she didn’t seem to mind and appeared genuinely pleased to see me.

“I say there, soldier,” the driver said. He was of medium height and weight. He had a long scar on the side of his neck and favored one leg over the other as he walked.

“I mean no harm, I promise you,” I said. “This is my horse,” I corrected myself, “This used to be my horse, Junebug.”

The man’s eyebrows shot up, and his mouth formed an “O” in genuine surprise.

“I purchased that horse from a farmer in Pennsylvania last year. She’s an excellent mare.”

“It’s fine,” I said. “I left her with this farmer who I’d hoped would keep her, but I see he decided that he couldn’t.”

“The story he told me was that Junebug, you say, had delivered a foal and that he was going to keep the stud and didn’t need the mare.”

“I see.”

“He showed me papers; I remember the name, a —”

“Yes, Edward Jacobson,” I said. “That’s me.”

The man put his finger to his lips in contemplation. “This seems wrong that I have your horse.”

“You purchased her fair and square. I have no hard feelings.” I turned to the horse. “Junebug, you’re a momma.”

Junebug whinnied and pawed the ground next to the post as if in response to the acknowledgment.

“I can’t keep your horse. It would be wrong to take something from a soldier serving our country.”

“You have my blessing,” I said. I turned to leave.

“How would you like to buy her from me,” he asked.

I stopped and searched my pockets again. I had some coins but no folding money. I had that stashed in a box in the bivouac.

I turned and walked back to the man. There was a general bustle of people around the front of the restaurant. Some would slow and watch as I talked with him. Others would reach out and touch my arm, gently letting me know I was seen. It was an acknowledgment of my service that I had felt time and time again.

“I only have coins. My money is back at home.

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