The Girls of Gettysburg by Bobbi Miller Read Free Book Online

trio of young boys hurled rotted peaches and cabbages at the soldiers. The soldiers broke their line to chase them down.
    Annie marched past a little girl, hair like dirty sunshine, standing in the roadside mud clinging to a headless doll. She had moon-round eyes, and little ringlets about her face. She wore no shoes or stockings, the lace of her dress was ripped, and the dress hung loose. She reminded Annie of her little sister, and she almost smiled at the thought.
    â€œMurderer!” A woman rushed up to the little girl, wrapping her arms about her. The woman looked as wretched and starved as the little girl.
    Annie turned away.
    Marching through the town, they bivouacked next to the railroad tracks.
    â€œSons of Virginia,” Gideon called out, “we got chores to do!”
    Dylan howled, leading a charge against the railroad ties, swinging a pickax high and wide. Others joined in, and the howling became a mighty roar that bounced off the clouds. The soldiers danced in a strange cotillion, hacking and tearing, burning what they couldn’t hack and tear.
    Annie was used to doing hard chores. But she wasn’t used to doing such reckless, feckless destruction.
    â€œCan’t see much sense in this.” Annie stood sentry, barely able to breathe with the smoke curling about their heads. “Not after what we seen back home.”
    â€œCan’t understand why the Lord put curl in a pig’s tail,” Dylan hooted in reply. “We got our orders. I suppose there’s reason enough.”
    Her stomach squeezed so hard, she heaved. And it all came up at once, her morning fixings and the cherries she had stolen. She heaved again, a rush of bile. And then she heaved again, falling to her knees, until it seemed not a speck of life was left in her.

CHAPTER TWELVE

    â€œNew orders, sons of Virginia!” Gideon hailed his troops. “Sweep the town and surrounding fields for supplies!”
    â€œYou’re with me, strawfoot,” Dylan chuckled, “if’n you can stand up straight now.” He pointed down the road.
    Annie knew that grin well enough by now: like some stubborn bear, he meant to continue his sparring. As swampy as she felt, Annie grinned back, holding her Enfield at the ready.
    Working in groups of two and three, the Ninth Virginia joined the other regiments, sweeping down the street, through the gardens and kitchen houses and stables, gathering chickens and pigs and whatever food they could find.
    The three of them—Dylan in the lead, with Jasper and Annie at his heels—came to a brown brick house. Surrounded by a wooden fence, its front yard was a once-tidy garden now overrun with weeds and chickens. Chickens!
    Dylan hooted and gave chase. Jasper, too, and each soon caught a chicken.
    â€œDon’t need to take everything,” Annie told them. “Leave something so they can eat, too.”
    Dylan and Jasper looked at her, then at each other, confused.
    â€œJiggers,” Jasper snorted. “Ain’t you hungry for some of the sergeant’s special fried chicken?”
    â€œEveryone’s hungry,” Annie insisted, remembering the little girl by the road.
    â€œStrawfoot’s right.” Dylan let loose his chicken.
    But no sooner did the chicken flit away than another soldier swooped in to catch it.
    â€œAin’t that some pitiable sight,” someone chuckled from the walkway. Two soldiers stood next to them. One, wearing a loose-fitting lieutenant’s uniform, was a rakish sort, not much older than Dylan and not much taller, wearing a smile that was more sword-like than friendly. “The famous Dylan Good-Shot can’t catch a stupid cluck?”
    â€œWell, time’s been good to you, Gabriel. Looks like your pap bought you a new uniform.” Dylan returned the same sword-sharp smile. “Might need to have your mama sew it up proper to get a better fit.”
    â€œWatch your tongue.” The soldier behind