The Girls of Gettysburg by Bobbi Miller Read Free Book Online Page A

them shoved Annie aside as he returned to his comrades on the walkway, the chicken clucking and flapping frantically in his arms. “Show some respect, private, or we’ll arrest your sorry face for insubordination.”
    â€œJiggers,” Jasper whispered. “This is gonna turn real bad real fast.”
    â€œWho are they?” Annie whispered back.
    â€œThey’re part of the Fiftieth Georgia, from the southern part of the state. Been a long feud between the Fiftieth and the Ninth, about who’s top dog and all.”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œThem’s also Dylan’s folk, from his mam’s side. Real bad blood between the families.”
    Just then, from within the house, someone screamed. A bloodcurdling, end-of-life scream. Like the one her sister had screamed when some Yank stormed through their front door.
    Annie should have thought about what she might do next. If she was arrested for insubordination or sedition, she’d be found out. But then the scream rent the air again, and she bolted toward the front door.
    â€œJames!” Dylan raced after her.
    â€œAw, jiggers!” Jasper ran after them.
    â€œYou there!” The lieutenant—Gabriel—called after them. “No one gave you leave. What goes on here is not your concern!”
    â€œJames!” Dylan shouted again, beating Annie to the door. “I thought we had this settled. You’re with me, not the other way around.”
    Dylan in the lead, the three charged through the door. And just as quick, they rocked to a halt.
    The room was a shambles. A large hutch had been tipped over, shattering its contents and spewing broken dishes and glassware across the floor. Its drawers had been pulled out and emptied. Annie suspected the soldiers had found what they were after: the family silver.
    The soldiers had taken their sabers and shredded the high-backed chairs and the paintings on the wall. Vases, keepsakes, everything. Destroyed.
    Standing the middle of the mayhem, a girl no taller than spring wheat whimpered as she clung to her mama’s skirts. Her mama whimpered, too, her shoulders shaking in the effort to stay calm. The two watched Annie and Dylan.
    â€œPlease,” the woman whispered, pointing. “My son . . .”
    On the other side of the room, a soldier held a boy by the collar. The boy hung limp in the grasp, his face swollen from a beating.
    â€œDidn’t you hear me,
private
?” Gabriel stormed through the door, holding a pistol. “This is not your concern.”
    â€œI believe you started this conversation,
sir
.” Dylan raised the Whitworth threateningly. “Looks like some things don’t change, no matter what fancy duds you wear. You beating up women and children again,
sir
?”
    â€œThis here Northern whore is a criminal,” Gabriel began. “She’s guilty of hiding fugitives. . . .”
    â€œYou find any slaves hiding in those drawers, did you?” Annie hissed.
    â€œYou calling me a liar,
private
?” Gabriel stepped up so close to Annie, she could smell the onion he had for breakfast. Gabriel pointed to the woman. “She’s a spy for the Federals.”
    Dylan exploded, pummeling the lieutenant’s arm with the butt of the Whitworth. The pistol fired with the impact, and the woman and child screeched. The bullet struck the wall.
    â€œRun!” Annie shouted to them. The woman gathered the limp body of her son and her daughter, and fled the house.
    The second soldier—Drake, the one who’d caught the chicken—now pulled his pistol on Dylan. Annie rushed forward. At the same time,Jasper yelled and balled his fists, and the two rammed into the man like riled-up bulls. All three exploded through the front door, rolling in a heap of howls.
    Annie was used to hunting possum, and
this
chicken fighter was not near as bright as the possums she hunted that played dead for a living. As Drake struggled to