Come Juneteenth by Ann Rinaldi Read Free Book Online Page A

had never had the chance to be one. Coming from the same plantation in Virginia as Aunt Sophie, she hated her sister's southern-belle ways and was determined to lead a useful life. And she had. She had worked hard with Pa to make our ranch successful. "A true man wants a partner," she'd told me once. "Not a gussied-up doll without a thought in her head."
    Without her ever saying it, I knew she was disappointed in Amelia, who was a genuine southern belle. And she'd made up her mind she would succeed with me. So she let me ride astride, allowed Gabe to make me the best shot in the county (after him and Granville). She allowed me to clean my own gun and saddle my own horse and, since I was a toddler, to pad around after my brothers.
    "Now," she said, "Major General Lee is riding out this day to meet you girls a quarter of the way to Glen Eden. He'll be waiting for you as soon as you get to Shelby's Corners. Remember, he is an honorable man from an honorable family. Make a good impression. And don't stare at his right hand. The tips of his fingers are missing."
    "From what?" we both asked.
    She smoothed down her white apron, without which she would not be seen during the day. She adjusted the kerchief at her neck and patted her brown hair in place.

    "From when he was eight years old and went into the stable alone, disobeying his father. A horse bit them off. Come on now, it's time. Finish that coffee. Don't waste it."
    We both gulped the rest of our coffee.
    Mama held me, both hands on my shoulders, an arm's length away. "You'll do," she said. "Remember to offer to play the piano, and don't get puffed up about it. If Major Lee asks you to dance, remember yourself. And be gentle in his company. Don't ask questions of him. Just listen. Sometimes a man just needs to be listened to."
    "Yes, ma'am."
    "Do you have the homemade jellies and embroidered cloth I'm sending along?"
    "It's all in my saddlebags, Ma."
    She held me and kissed me. I could feel her heart beating. And I thought that God was good to me to give me such a mama.
    Then she did the same to Sis Goose. And for the first time I didn't envy Sis Goose her looks. After all, her mama had died on a steamboat and she'd been handed over to people like a bale of cotton.
    We set off. With some good riding we'd be at Shelby's Corners in less than an hour.

CHAPTER EIGHT
    "M ISS L UANNE H OLCOMB, I presume. I'm William. Fitzhugh Lee, your humble servant. You can call me Rooney, like my sisters do."

    He took off his gray hat and gave as courtly a bow as one could while sitting astride a silver stallion.
    "I'm Luli," I said. "And this is my almost-sister, Rose Smith."
    "People call me Sis Goose," she said.
    I saw Rooney's eyes go over her for just a second as a man's eyes go over a woman to take her measure. Then he put his hat back on his head. "And are you surviving as a goose in the courthouse full of foxes?" he asked pleasantly.
    "Yes. No one has devoured me yet," she flung back.
    I was glad to see that Rooney knew his Brer Fox and Brer Rabbit stories. It made this big, formidable-looking man, in his major general's uniform, less frightening. The uniform was the same tired gray as Gabe's, except that his looked as if he didn't have a woman to look after it. I'd given Gabe's a good brushing off many a time. And had one of the house servants press it.
    We brought our horses up to his and set out together down the road to Glen Eden. "Who would call a pretty thing like you Sis Goose?" Rooney asked.

    "My father," she replied.
    "Ah yes, fathers tend to do that. My elder brother is named George Washington Custis Lee. More of a title than a name. Pa always called him 'Boo.' My father nicknamed me Rooney. I've heard, from your aunt Sophie, Sis, of the exploits of your steamboat-captain father. Well, I'm sure he means you to be a survivor. I see you two ride astride and not sidesaddle."
    "My brothers insisted on it, Mister Rooney," I told him.
    He laughed. "You'd be run out of town on a