Two Girls of Gettysburg by Lisa Klein Read Free Book Online

Luke’s letter.
Happy Birthday to us, Lizzie.
Could you send me a piece of your cake? On the march we ate nothing but soup from dried Vegetables and hardtack which is like old leather but if you soak it in coffee it is edible. Every day we are covered in dust and dirt, even the food is gritty. Henrys feet got so blistered he bled from his boots. We are best friends and share a tent which means joining our canvas together and holding it up with a pole at the ends. I swear he gets more letters from our cousin Rose than most men get from their wives. Sadly the girl I fancy has not written to me.
My duties are digging latrines and hauling wood to build winter barracks. Papas job is to help the quartermaster supply fresh beef. He makes me go with him to services at camp on Sundays and Wednesdays. The preacher thunders on about our everlasting souls. You would not believe the number of men who play dice and drink, but not Papa.
We are eager to whip the Johnnies and come home by spring. The nights are getting cold and I would give anything for another blanket. And some of Ma’s sugar pickles would taste good.
Your affectionate brother Luke
P.S. You can have my old pocket knife for a gift, I have a better one now.
Despite some of its unpleasant details, Luke’s letter made me smile. I was writing back to him when I heard Mama answer the door, and I recognized Rosanna’s melodious drawl.
“Happy birthday, Lizzie!” she said, coming in and kissing me as if the scene with the flag had never happened. “Here’s your present.” She held out a frame containing a bouquet of pressed violets and daisies.
I thanked her and gave her one of the photographs.
“Why, it looks just like you!” said Rosanna, seemingly delighted with the picture. “I’ll paste this in my scrapbook. May I have a lock of your hair to put next to it?”
I handed her the kitchen scissors and felt her snip some hair from the back of my head.
“Rosanna, I’m sorry I wasn’t more excited about your flag,” I said, watching her fold the hair into a piece of paper. “I’m not like your school friends. I can’t help saying what I think.”
“Well, that’s what I like about you, Lizzie. Most people are far too polite. But if you want to be more like the other girls, let me help you dress your hair in a more becoming way.”
“So that’s it. I’m not pretty enough?”
Sounding exasperated, Rosanna said, “You’ve been awfully touchy lately. What is bothering you?”
I hesitated. I knew but one way to say it, the most direct way.
“Rosanna, you have everything. You’re beautiful, the boys flock to you, and you go to a school where all the girls want to be your friend.” I looked at my hands, which were red and callused, and sighed. “I work in a butcher shop. Why do you even want me for a friend?”
Rosanna stood with her mouth open. But she didn’t say anything for a long time.
I looked down into my lap.
“Lizzie, you were the first person in Gettysburg who was kind tome besides my own sister. And I can trust you. I told you about John Wilcox because I knew you would keep it secret.”
“That’s another thing, Rosanna,” I said, feeling all my discontent bubble up at once. “Sometimes I don’t understand you at all.”
“So? I don’t understand myself,” she said with a forced laugh.
“I’m serious. Why did you cut off John Wilcox, who said he loved you? Why are you so keen on Henry Phelps now? What is it you want?”
I watched Rosanna put her thumb and forefinger to her mouth and frown.
“I’m confused, all right?” she said. “I thought I loved John Wilcox, but perhaps I was mistaken. And Henry was … here. He is not quite the man John is, but he is honest and good. His letters are entertaining, and I know he cares for me. Well, I think he does,” she finished uncertainly.
I was beginning to think that Rosanna was like a chameleon, a creature who changed colors according to her surroundings. When she left Richmond, she simply put