The farmer reddened, and the muscle in hischeek twitched. The vein rose in his forehead. “I’ve had it withyour orders.” His words hissed through gritted teeth. “You peopledemand the use of my barn and yard. Your wagons and artillerychewed up my land and destroyed my crops. You tore down all myfences, despite my best efforts to stop you. My pigs escaped. Mycow is gone. My spring and well are dry. Your doctors want my housefor a hospital, which I absolutely forbid. Now you tell me we mustleave?” He pounded his fist the table.
Tillie jumped. Mollie started to cry.
“No!” Mr. Weikert’s shout reverberatedthrough the basement.
The men glared at each other in astandoff.
The lieutenant spoke first. He lowered hisvoice and used a calm, authoritative tone, as if giving orders tohis command. “This is not a request. You are hereby ordered todepart this house—now.” He started for the door. As if to emphasizehis words, a shell crashed behind the barn. Planks disintegrated ashay and body parts flew through the air.
Mr. Weikert blanched. He collected his familyand herded them upstairs to the main level, and out the frontdoor.
“Papa.” Mrs. Schriver cried over the noise ofthe exploding shells, the crackle of gunfire, and men shouting andscreaming. Her father didn’t respond. She tapped him on theshoulder. He leaned in, and she said something Tillie didn’thear.
He nodded, and taking his wife by the hand,shouted something.
Tillie thought his mouth formed the wordsfollow me.
He sprinted east across his fields. The restfollowed as shells crashed and exploded around the house and barn,as if to chase them away.
They ran about a quarter of a mile when Mrs.Weikert stopped short. Her hand slipped from Mr. Weikert’s as hisforward momentum carried him on.
He turned back, a horrified, frightenedexpression contorting his face. Horror changed to stunneddisbelief.
She stood stock-still. Everyone came to ahalt. The crashing roar of battle subsided with the distance,easing their need to shout.
“What’s the matter?” Mr. Weikert shoutedanyway.
“Jacob, you need to go back. You must. Ican’t leave it.”
“Go back? Are you mad? Go back for what?”
“My quilted petticoat!” Tears coursed downher face. “It’s brand new. For winter. I haven’t even worn it yet.You must go back before they tear it into bandages.”
Mr. Weikert’s breath came in short, hardgasps. He stared at his wife as the twitch began in his cheekmuscle again.
Tillie gaped at Mrs. Weikert. How could shemuster the nerve to send him back into danger for an article ofclothing? Yet she stood in a field of wheat, demanding he do so.Would Mother require this of Father? Mother had sense enough torealize one could replace a petticoat, didn’t she?
Mr. Weikert took a deep breath and exhaled.“Keep going and get to the Bushmans’.” He pushed them in thedirection of the Bushman farm. “I’ll meet you there as soon as Ican.” He took off running back toward home.
A bullet to the head couldn’t shock Tilliemore.
As he ran back, a half-smile of triumphtwisted Mrs. Weikert’s lips.
What a terrible thing to do, you horriblewoman. She turned away and started toward the Bushmans’.
Cutting across fields of ripening, undamagedwheat, they came upon a corps of Union soldiers in formation. Themen relaxed in the summer sun as the battle raged three-quarters ofa mile in their front. They did not impede the family as they movedbetween. Many opened a corridor for the women and Dan to runthrough, which they did, amid calls of “Hurry up,” and “What thedevil are you doing out here?” The rest ignored them.
As Tillie ran, a flash of light caught thecorner of her eye. Toward town unusual lights glinted back andforth like fire in the sky arcing over the rooftops. She stoppedand pointed. “What is that?”
“Oh, that.” A soldier grinned at her, a glintof mischief in his eyes. “Why, that’s the rebels burning the townto the ground with all the people.”
Tillie screamed, pummeling his chest with hersmall fists while his companions laughed and cheered her on.
The man stepped back and grasped her wrists,keeping her at arm’s length. “Whoa there, little lady. I waskidding.” He held her tight with one hand while laughing. He dustedat his coat front as though she’d left fist prints.
“That was a stupid, terrible joke,” sheshrieked. Crying, she wriggled free a wrist and took another swingat him. She missed. “And you’re a stupid, terrible man!”
The soldiers laughed.
“Shame on you.” Beckie glared at them as shegrabbed Tillie by the elbows and took off running, dragging herwith her.
Tillie cried the whole way, convinced thebattle made her an orphan. She still sobbed when they reached theBushmans’ farm.
“For heaven’s sake, your family is safe, stopbeing such a ninny,” Beckie barked.
Tillie yanked her arm out of Beckie’s grasp.“That’s easy for you to say. You know what’s happening with yourfamily. I don’t, so don’t call me a ninny.” Tillie’s hands curledinto fists. She clenched her teeth, her body stiff with fury,resisting the urge to hit Beckie.
She almost felt Maggie’s hands, holding herback. Mrs. Weikert knocked on the farmhouse door, lower lipquivering.
A Union sergeant answered. “Yes. What do youwant?”
Mrs. Weikert’s eyes bulged with fear, and hermouth worked in spasms. She shook her head and licked her lips.“They told us to come here.” Her words came in short gasps as shetried to catch her breath. She wiped her upper lip with the back ofher hand then gestured over her shoulder. “We live about a mileaway. They told us to leave and come here.”
“Who ordered you to come here?”
“The soldiers at our farm. They said to comehere.”
“I don’t know why they told you that. Go backto where you came from, lady.”
The soldier made to close the door. Mrs.Schriver put out her hand. The wood smacked against her palm.“Where are Mr. and Mrs. Bushman?”
“Who?”
“The people who live here. The Bushmans.Where are they?”
“I don’t know, lady.” The
