A distant short burst of thunder vied for herattention. Something about the length of the rumble nibbled at thecorners of her mind, but she pushed it away, intent on thinkingabout death and George and Father.
She jumped out of bed, got down on her knees,and folded her hands in supplication. Closing her eyes, she triedto focus her thoughts. How should she pray? What should she ask?What good would prayer do? George would not return.
“Heavenly Father…if you’re up there.” Sheyanked her taut nightgown out from underneath her. “Lord, keep theRebs away from here. Protect James and William, and keep Beckie’sMr. Kitzmiller safe from harm.” She shifted her weight to relievethe pressure on first one knee, then the other. “God, make the warend soon. Thank you. Amen.”
Her hands fell on the patchwork quiltadorning her bed, and she stared at the star pattern with unseeingeyes. Why was praying supposed to comfort her? She didn’t feelcomforted and couldn’t comprehend why Mother, Father, and Maggieset such store by it. She huffed to her feet and climbed back intobed.
Lacing her fingers under her head, sheresumed contemplation of her ceiling. Several quick muffled boomscaught her attention. She turned to the window, waiting for atelltale sign of lightning. None. The storm must be further awaythan she thought.
Tillie threw back the covers, got up again,and went to her writing desk. Perhaps if she wrote to herbrothers…
As she started to light her lamp, a loud boomshook the walls, a boom nothing like thunder. It reverberatedthrough the air.
She froze. “What in the world?” Her voicecame out in a frightened whisper.
Another muffled blast immediately followedthe first. Sticking her head out the window, she leaned out as faras she dared and peered south toward Cemetery Hill. Below her,people popped out of their homes, peering in the samedirection.
A full moon lit the landscape. In thedistance, gray smoke rose in a drifting cloud behind SouthMountain. A red light flashed. A few seconds later came a loud bangand crackling, popping sounds. She pulled in, rapping the back ofher head on the window sash.
“Ouch!” Pressing her hand on her head, shebumped into her desk, scattering papers and knocking over herchair. She flew out of her room and raced down the hall, to herparents’ bedroom door. Their soft voices whispered through from theother side.
She pounded her fists on her their door untilFather snatched it open. He still wore his shirt, but without hiscuffs and collar. “Ah, we were just discussing you. What’s thematter?” His expression softened from stern parent to concernedfather.
“Father, Mother, something’s going on. Ithink I hear something.” Her voice cracked high.
“Goodness gracious, child.” Mother rose fromher dressing table. She wore her nightdress and her hair tumbleddown. She moved to the bed and slipped on her emerald green wrap.“Look at you! No wrap, no slippers, what’s possessed you? It’sthunder. I declare.”
“Mother! Under a clear sky and a full moon?Something is going on south of here. I can hear the cannons.” Sheran to the window facing Baltimore Street and threw it open.“Listen!”
No one spoke. Another crumpf-boomreverberated through the air.
Father peered out. He shook his head. “Ican’t see anything from here. What do you say we go outside andtake a gander?”
He went downstairs toward the front stoop.They followed him.
Neighbors, in various states of dress, milledaround the street. Tillie’s heart pounded harder as their nervousspeculation and anxious questions swirled around her.
Mrs. Winebrenner stood in the road facingsouth. She pointed at something and spoke to Mrs. Buehler. Mothermoved off to join her two friends and fellow Union Relief Leagueassociates.
Anna Garlach and her mother, Catherine,talked in low tones. “…I don’t know, Ma. Perhaps anotherwildfire.”
Tillie and Father joined them. Annacontemplated the orange sky, her arms crossed in front of her in aprotective gesture. In the distance, cannon boomed again followedby the crackle of gunfire.
“What do you make of that, Mr. Pierce? Do youthink it’s another wildfire?” She greeted them.
Father stared toward the sound of thefighting. South Mountain glowed with orange lights. A cap of grayfog topped it. He didn’t answer right away. “No. Sounds like somesort of battle. Those are campfires, Miss Garlach.” He didn’t takehis eyes off the heights. “Perhaps they’re fighting somewhere closeto Taneytown. We better hope those fires belong to our boys, but ifnot, then pray as soon as the Twenty-First arrives, they can pushthem back into Maryland.”
“Do we have reason to fear, Mr. Pierce?” Annaturned the upper half of her body to face him. “What if they aren’tour Union boys and the Twenty-First doesn’t get here tomorrow? Ineed to consider my parents. How do I keep them safe?”
“Don’t you fret about me, dear.” Mrs. Garlachput her hand on her daughter’s arm, twisting her fingers into thewhite lace shawl draped over Anna’s shoulders. “I survived Indianmassacres as a child. A few unruly Rebs don’t scare me.” Mrs.Garlach nodded at Tillie and gave her a mischievous wink.
Tillie laughed.
“Yes, Mother, but that was a long time ago,and no offense meant, but you’re not a girl anymore.”
“I can hold my own, daughter. Don’t becheeky.”
Tillie giggled again.
Father chuckled. “You’re the last person I’dwant to be up against in a desperate situation, Catherine.”
Anna rolled her eyes and shook her head. Sheand Tillie exchanged amused glances. Tillie’s eyes passed Anna toMrs. Schriver, who walked up behind them.
Mrs. Schriver smiled as her eyes swept Tilliefrom top to bottom. “What are you doing outside in yournightclothes?”
Glancing down at herself, she wiggled hertoes and tugged at her nightgown, then giggled, a high nervoustwitter. She indicated the strange lights flickering in thedistance. “What do you make of that?”
“I wouldn’t worry. If they’re ours, we havenothing to fear. If not, I doubt they’ll get this far. TheTwenty-First will stop them.”
“That’s what Father said. I hope so.”
Father joined them. “I agree.” He nodded tothe glowing mountain. “This appears ominous, but if they’re Rebs,our Army will get them.”
Tillie hoped so, but a few days ago, citizensof Chambersburg ran to Gettysburg telling woeful tales of Rebelraiders looting and pillaging their livestock and
