“Who threw a rock at you?” Father demanded,but Mother placed a calming hand over his arm.
“She’s obviously unharmed, James, and we canget to that later.”
Tillie smiled. “Mother’s right. It doesn’tmatter who threw the rock, and I didn’t see them anyway. It cameflying out of Racehorse Alley and hit me on the arm.”
Father drew a deep breath and let it out.“I’m glad you’re telling us this. It’s the reason we wanted to talkto you.” He clasped Mother’s hand. “You speak true when you saythey don’t like what you’re doing. I’ve been told outright peoplethink you’re providing aid and comfort to the enemy. The Lord tellsus to pray for our enemies. But I did read tonight that He alsowants us to be reconciled to our enemies and to be peacemakers.Some people are not ready yet. In the meantime, you’ll need to fillyourself with an enormous amount of grace.” He rose and went toher. Kneeling down, he placed his hands on her knees. “I’m proud ofyou, Tillie. You are working out your faith well. Tomorrow, I shallwalk you to Camp Letterman, and I’ll pick you up at four o’clock.Perhaps if people realize your mother and I sanction your actions,they’ll reconsider before throwing anything else at you. I’ll go toMr. Garlach and ask for some wood.”
“All right. Thank you, Father.” She slippedher arms around his neck. “Oh, by the way.” She pulled back to seeinto his face. “Can we stop at Mr. Buehler’s first thing? The boyswant me to post letters for them.”
Father pushed her away and stared hard ather, his mouth agape.
She fidgeted. “Is something wrong?”
“You can’t mail letters to the South. That’streason. They won’t be delivered.”
“I’m not committing treason. I know what’s inthe letters. I helped write most of them. I’m not sending militarysecrets. Just notes to their families telling them they’re allright.”
He rose to his feet. “The contents aren’timportant. Sending letters south is considered a treasonous act.”He glared at her. “I’m not going to let you send them. It’s toodangerous. I forbid it.” He held out his hand. “Give them tome.”
Tillie’s face fell. She considered arguingwith him, but changed her mind. Treason was a frightening word. Shewent into the hallway, returning with a small packet, which shegave to him.
Mother rose and put her hands on Tillie’sshoulders. “We worry about you, Tillie. Father and I don’tdisapprove of what you’re doing for the Confederate boys, butpeople in town do. We only ask—be discreet.”
“I will be discreet. I am being discreet.This is silly and narrow-minded. They’re not the hated ‘Rebs’ wetalked about all summer. They’re poor boys who are hurt and faraway from home. Wouldn’t you want some woman to care for James orWilliam the same way? Wouldn’t any mother here?”
“Tillie, it’s not so simple. Of course, I’dwant someone to care for your brothers if necessary, but we’re notdiscussing them. We’re talking about your safety and standing inthis town. You have a future to consider.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Yes, you heard me right. Soon, those boyswill be sent off to whatever prison camp they’re assigned to, gonefor good. You, on the other hand, will be here for a long time tocome. Care for them. Lord knows they need some kindness. Perhaps,after the war, your actions will go a long way toward mendingfences, but don’t burn your bridges in the process.”
Tillie studied her parents. “Do you feel thesame way, Father?”
“I do.” He put the packet of letters into hisbreast pocket. “It may sound selfish and self-serving, but Mother’sright. Your future is here. Theirs is not. You must think longterm. You don’t want to damage your standing.”
She stared at Mother, who met her eyes with asteady gaze.
Tillie nodded. “I understand what you’resaying, and I will try to adjust my behavior accordingly.” Sheexhaled. “If you don’t mind, I’m exhausted. I’d like to go to bednow.” She gave her parents a hug and kiss and trudged upstairs.
* * * *
Rising early the next morning, Tillie dressedand ate a quick breakfast. She stepped into the hallway and donnedher cloak and bonnet. As she buttoned up, Father joined her at thefront door, pulling on his coat and hat.
They walked toward the center of town. Theirconversation the night before left her disgruntled. She’d lainawake a good portion of the night. She didn’t know how to broachthe subject or how to interpret his silence. By the time theyreached the Diamond, she couldn’t take it any longer. “Are youkeeping something from me? You don’t want me doing this work?” Sheturned puppy-dog eyes to her father. Would they stop her or wouldthey trust her?
He checked each road entering the Diamond,waiting for an opportunity to cross. When the intersection clearedenough, he grasped her elbow, and they trotted across. Uponreaching the other side, he released her and walked with his headdown, hands in his pockets. He gave her a sidelong glance. “I’monly trying to protect you. That’s all your mother and I are tryingto do. That’s my job.”
“Protect me from what? Angry people?” Shesnorted. “There are some things you can protect me from and someyou can’t.”
Father bobbed his head and raised one eyebrowin open acknowledgment.
“You and Mother talked last night aboutmending fences without burning bridges. Do you disapprove of myhelping the boys?”
“No, we don’t.” He raised his face and stareddown the street, as though reluctant to meet her gaze. “You’reright—they’re not soldiers anymore, just wounded men who need someChristian charity. Some people can’t get past the fact those boysfought against this country and wrought so much havoc here. I can’tblame them for reacting the way they do. Still, word is, CampLetterman is to be disbanded soon, so I don’t see the harm inhelping.”
Tillie gaped at him. “You ‘don’t see the harmin helping,’” she repeated, unable to keep the sarcasm at bay.
“Listen.” He held
