The Girls of Gettysburg by Bobbi Miller

Author:Bobbi Miller
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Holiday House
Published: 2014-12-26T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“Seems like everyone’s on the run this night.” Mr. Butler led Grace and the girls to the far side of the cemetery, where a wagon was parked, a red flag tied to its seat.

Mr. Butler eased Grace, then Weezy, into the back of the wagon. Sorry waved his arm aside and helped herself. The three lay low in the wagon as he covered them with hay and a blanket. “In a day or two, the town will be overrun with soldiers from both sides. I’m taking you to my sister’s house. You can hide out there.”

Mr. Butler slapped the reins and the horses neighed. The wagon rolled uneasily over the roughened ground, and lurched to one side. Grace yelped as she rolled into Weezy, who rolled into Sorry. The wagon lurched again as it finally came to the road.

Grace didn’t have to see where they were going, for she knew the ground well enough. She felt fear rising in her throat with every wagon bounce. They were heading back to Gettysburg. Back to where they started. She covered her face with her hands.

She couldn’t go home. Soldiers had taken over their farm.

Pappa wasn’t home.

Grace swallowed her tears, but they grew bigger by the moment, too big to hold down. Just like her fear.

She felt the wagon turn and slow. Finally it stopped. And a moment later, Mrs. Woods flipped the blanket over.

“Negroes, Adam?” Mrs. Woods looked at him with rounded, worried eyes.

“You know Abraham’s daughter. He’s helped us plenty, now it’s our turn to help him.”

“If they catch us, Adam, hiding negroes . . .”

“We’ll be fine, Sarah.” Mr. Butler helped Sorry out of the wagon, while Weezy and Grace jumped free.

Flitting like a bird, Mrs. Woods pushed the girls into the back of the stone house. Grace knew where they were: Culp’s Hill. Quickly Mrs. Woods ushered the three into another cellar, into another tiny room.

“You need to be quiet,” Mrs. Woods urged. “I’ll come down to check on you when I can. Whatever happens, do not make a sound, and do not leave this room!”

The room was smaller than the one in Miss Mary’s cellar, no more than a hole in the wall. The slant of the roof made it impossible to sit up. No hay or blankets to cushion them. The three lay on the dirt floor.

“Shame about the dress,” Weezy whispered. “It was the best thing I ever hope to have.”

Grace nodded.

“Your pappa would be proud of you,” Weezy said then.

Grace shook her head. She couldn’t speak, worry stealing her voice.

“Grace is a good name,” Weezy said. “There’s power in a name.”

But Grace could only shake her head again.

“Pap says names are our stories. They tell us who we are. They tell us where we come from.”

“What kind of name is Weezy?” Grace managed.

“That’s just what they call me.” Weezy chuckled. “My auntie named me Wisdom. Mam’s Wisdom, she called me. And you, this is who you are: Abraham was the chosen one, you know, gone on a long journey to the land of milk and honey.

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