Fingers curled around the edge of the door,which opened wider to reveal an officer. He stared at the sergeantuntil the man shrugged and walked away. He faced Tillie and theothers. “Can I assist you?”
“Where is the family who lives on this farm?”Mrs. Schriver pointed back the way they came. “We live a mileacross that field. The soldiers told us to leave and come here.”She talked fast, using the same demanding tone as when they wantedto cross the cemetery.
“Now he says,” she indicated the one whoanswered the door, “to go back the way we came. Why should we? Whycan’t we stay here?”
The soldier considered her questions. Regretshone in his eyes. He crossed his arms, almost in a defensivegesture. When his eyes fell on Tillie and her tear-streaked face,he stepped outside and closed the door. “Oh, my sweet, why thetears?”
Wiping her face, she told him what thesoldiers said about the strange fires in the sky. She couldn’t helpletting out a sob of anguish. “My family lives there. What shall Ido if the Rebs burn my house down?”
“I’m sorry they told you that.” He put agentle hand on her shoulder. “Those are signal flares, and they’reours. Besides, we have rules of war, the Rebs and us, and the firstrule is to leave the civilians alone as much as we can.”
Tillie stared at him. Did he speak true?“Thank you.” She wiped her nose on her sleeve.
“You’re quite welcome.” He straightened andgot back to business as his expression grew grim. He faced Mrs.Weikert. “However, madam, I am sorry. Sergeant Harris is right. Youcan’t stay here.”
“Why not?” She sounded as though she mightdissolve into tears herself. “Don’t you realize we’ve run a mile toget here because they told us to leave our house? Where are we togo?”
The officer pursed his lips. “You have to goback.”
“I’m not going back.” Beckie stamped herfoot. “I refuse.”
“Well, you must, and you must go now. We’vereceived reports the Reb artillery has advanced out of some peachorchard and into a wheat field. Why even now, the First Minnesotais in a desperate situation trying to hold the Rebs. The fightingis close enough to your farm so the shells will miss you and landhere.”
An artillery shell whistled overhead andlanded in the nearby field, exploding a tree on impact. The soldierflinched. The rest acted as though nothing happened.
“We must go back?” Mrs. Weikert soundedalmost petulant.
“I’m quite sorry. Yes.” He reached behind himfor the doorknob. “You must.”
She sighed. “Very well.” Her eyes flashedpure fury and hatred. Without a word, she gathered her skirts andran as fast as her corseted, portly body would allow, back the waythey came.
“Thank you ever so much.” Mrs. Schriversneered, grabbed her daughter’s hands, and followed her mother withBeckie and Dan right behind her.
Tillie lingered. “Thank you for explainingabout the signal flares.”
“You’re quite welcome, miss, and safe journeyback.”
Chapter 17
Back at the Weikerts’, Tillie picked her waythrough the yard where hundreds more men, now clad in gray orbutternut, lay scattered around on the ground.
Inside, Beckie’s strident complaints carried,bemoaning a house full of wounded Yankees bleeding on the floorsand carpets.
Judging from the argument, their flight hadbeen nothing more than a ploy to get the family out, so they couldturn the house into a hospital.
“I’m telling my father!” Beckie stormed outthe kitchen door and stomped across the yard, looking for Mr.Weikert.
A soldier stood in the doorway, dressed indark-blue army pants and a white shirt, sleeves rolled up to hiselbows. He stared after her as she stomped off. He shook his headand went back inside. The wounded were in the house to stay. End ofdiscussion. Even so, the barn and yard still overflowed withsoldiers, awaiting some sort of care.
Tillie noted the color of the uniforms.
“You see right.” An orderly stopped next toher.
She turned a questioning gaze to him.
“After you all left, we moved our boys intothe house and put the Rebs in the barn. As many as would fit, thatis.”
Tillie tossed her head. “How kind ofyou.”
He chuckled. “Not really.” He missed hersarcasm. “But docs have their hypocritical oath. They said the heatand lack of shade killed more men than their actual wounds.”
She smiled. “Don’t you mean their Hippocraticoath?”
The orderly regarded her. “No. I meanthypocritical.” He walked away.
Tillie lifted her skirts and picked her wayacross the yard, careful not to step on the men as she headedtoward the basement door.
Mr. Weikert emerged, and seeing their return,he stormed down the front porch steps and shoved the garment at hiswife. “Don’t you ever do that to me again.” Fury rattled his voice.“I’m so pleased to know your petticoat means more to you than mysafety! May you have many contented years wearing the blasted thingafter I’m long dead.”
“It didn’t matter.” She managed to sound bothrepentant and petulant. “They sent us away. They made us comeback.”
They stood nose to nose, his face the colorof beets. The muscle in his jaw worked up and down.
Mrs. Weikert refused to meet her husband’seye. Instead, she folded the petticoat and laid it over her arm.Her fingers stroked the fabric, and she kept her eyes castdown.
Their children exchanged dark glances andwent inside.
Tillie’s face burned as she took particularcare to study the men lying on the ground. She tiptoed around theWeikerts and followed Mrs. Schriver into the house, trying torecall a time when her parents argued in front of their children.Her memory failed her. Even the incident with the valise didn’tqualify as an argument, just Mother expressing fear for Father’ssafety. Perhaps they never did. The conversation with her motherabout picking vegetables came to her mind, and Tillie smiled. Thatmust be how they did things.
She stepped into the basement and breathed inthe yeasty aroma of bread baking. “Oh, no.” She hurried over,expecting to find blackened loaves. Instead, when she flung openthe oven door, a fresh loaf browned inside.
“We couldn’t resist.” Several men laughed ather delight. “We took the bread out before it burned and put a newone in. I must confess we enjoyed ourselves capitally.”Appreciative laughter
