“Thank you, sir.” She gazed at him, her eyesbig, round, and blue.
The soldier pinched her cheek and smiled ather with warm affection. He removed his hat to say goodbye. “Yourdaughters remind me of my own little girls.” His eyes misted. “MyPatsy is this one’s age.” He indicated Mollie. “And my Laura isyour age.” He gestured to Sadie. “My wife is expecting our third.”He added this piece of information with a wistful note.
“Where’re you from?” Mrs. Schriver took hishand as she started to climb into the wagon.
“New York, ma’am.” He straightened. “I’mCorporal Alfred Townsend of Middletown, New York at yourservice.”
“Well, thank you, corporal, for all of yourhelp. We appreciate it and will pray for your safety.”
He helped Tillie climb into the wagon. Shewas still settling herself when the wagon lurched forward. Thewounded soldiers cried out, and Mrs. Schriver grabbed hold of herchildren. Sadie uttered a short scream. Tillie almost fell off,snatched at the canvas side, and held tight. Corporal Townsendwaved as they drove away.
Tillie lifted a hand in response. Would shesee him again? Would he survive?
Chapter 13
The wagon bumped along, its spring-lesswheels jolting the occupants at every rut. The wounded withinbegged for mercy.
Tillie tried not to look at the men, but hereye fell on one particular young man, lying in blood-soaked straw,his left arm severed at the elbow. The ragged bone stuck out of agaping hole, the skin and muscle shredded and bleeding. Someoneplaced his forearm across his abdomen. Tillie swallowed hard andturned away. The open flesh reeked in the heat, and she tried totake shallow breaths to avoid the stench of blood and putrefaction,but couldn’t help herself. The odor found its way into her cheeksand tingled on her tongue. She worked up saliva and swished itaround to clean the taste from her mouth. Flies buzzed and crowdedunder the hot canvas wagon cover, adding their insult to thesoldiers’ injuries.
Behind her, a man whimpered and cried out.“Get them off me. Please get them off me.”
She peered over her shoulder at him kickinghis wounded leg covered with the black, crawling, biting pests.
He began to sob.
She turned her back on him.
They even buzzed around her flying into herface and landing on her. She dared release an occasional hand towave them away.
Despite her resolve, she stole another glanceover her shoulder. Again, her eye fell on the now vacant stare ofthe young boy whose severed arm lay across his abdomen. His eyes indeath accused her for her squeamishness. She snapped her head backto the front and swallowed hard, but couldn’t hold back. Grippingthe cover of the wagon, she leaned over and let her vomit splashinto the muddy road, retching until nothing remained in herstomach. She rested her forehead on the rough canvas top. Her bodyshook, and despite the burn in her lungs, she tried not to takedeep gasps of air. Instead, she wiped her mouth on her sleeve andsteeled herself not to look behind her again.
After what seemed like an eternity, theystopped at the Weikerts’. Tillie jumped down almost before thewagon came to a complete halt. She turned to help Sadie off, usingher as a distraction to keep from seeing the men.
“Hettie, girls!” Mrs. Weikert ran towardthem, arms out.
The children sprinted to their grandparents,flinging themselves into their embrace.
Her grandfather lifted Mollie, tickling herface with his whiskers. The frightened girl squeezed his neck,hiding her face in his shoulder. He sobered and hugged her,crooning and consoling her. He turned to Mrs. Schriver. “You tookquite a chance coming out here, daughter.” He shifted Mollie to seearound her. “You might have been terribly hurt.” His gaze focusedto the never-ending stream of troops.
“I didn’t feel safe, Papa.” She scowled, herface reddening from more than the heat. “The fighting came quiteclose to us. I feared for the girls and me.” She glared at him, asthough to say, don’t judge me.
Her mother put her arm around her shoulders.“You did right.”
Beckie, and her brother, ran out to greetthem.
Tillie hugged her friend.
“Hello, Dan.” She gave him a shy smile.
A long, lanky boy of thirteen with dark-brownhair and blue eyes bobbed his head at her. His face reddened. “MissTillie.”
Mr. Weikert put Mollie down. “And how’s yourfamily, young lady?” He was a white-haired, blue-eyed,broad-shouldered man.
“They’re fine, sir, and thank you for yourhospitality.”
He waved away her thanks. “Not at all.”
The steady tramp-tramp of marching feet gaveway to a low rumble punctuated by neighing horses.
The infantry moved to either side of theedges, as Union artillery charged headlong past them, as thoughthey feared they might miss the battle. The road, torn up from somany wagons and columns of men, could not withstand anotheronslaught of caissons. The drivers guided their teams into thefields to avoid being stuck in the mud.
Mr. Weikert made a strangled noise as theheavy conveyances tore his wheat from the ground, crushing thestalks under their wheels.
A sudden blast ripped through the air.Everyone ducked and cringed. Sadie and Mollie screamed. Tillieclamped her hands over her ears. Her scream stuck in herthroat.
A caisson exploded, hurtling pieces ofshrapnel in different directions. The driver flew from his seatlike a toy. He thudded into the wheat field, his shrieks of painindicating where he landed. The wheat caught fire.
Without missing a beat, four soldiers steppedout of line. They found the wounded man, lifted him into theirarms, and carried him to the house. No one did anything about theflames.
Tillie’s stomach clenched. The blastdestroyed his eyes and covered his body from head to toe in a blackmass of gunpowder. She slapped her hands over her mouth andgagged.
Mr. Weikert reached down and cupped his handover Mollie’s face, turning her head into his leg.
Mrs. Weikert lifted Sadie and held thechild’s face against her shoulder. She kept her hand on the back ofthe child’s head while the men approached.
“Take him indoors and put him in one of thebedrooms upstairs.” Mrs. Weikert’s voice choked, her eyes glued onthe wounded man.
“We should all get inside.” Mr.
