Hear the Wind Blow by Mary Downing Hahn

and peered down at us. "You children go away," she said. "I'm sorry, truly I am, but we can't feed you. We have nothing to spare, my dears."

    Before she could close the door, Rachel cried out, "Aunt Hester, it's Haswell and me. Surely you won't turn your own kin away!"
    Aunt Hester paused, her face confused. From the parlor, Grandma Colby called, "Hester, we can't feed every beggar in town. Tell them to be on their way, or I'll come and do it for you!"
    "But, Mother—"
    Rachel didn't wait for our aunt to finish her sentence. Without another word, she pushed past the befuddled woman, and I followed her. The house was warm and so full of good smells, I almost swooned.
    Rachel walked straight into the parlor and stopped in front of Grandma Colby. "Please don't send us away," she begged. "Mama told us to come to you. We went to your farm and you weren't there, so we came to Winchester, all because Mama said you'd take care of us." She gave Grandma Colby a pleading look. "If you don't want us, where are we to go?"
    Everyone in the parlor stared at us. I suppose we were a sight. Unwashed, uncombed, dressed in rags, and most likely smelling more like pigs than roses. Mama and Papa would have been ashamed to claim us as theirs.
    "It's Rachel and Haswell, Mother." Aunt Hester twisted and untwisted her pale hands, obviously fearing Grandma Colby's anger for letting urchins into the house. "Rebecca's children."
    Grandma Colby beckoned us closer. Her sight was poor, but she'd never admit it. While everyone, including the major, watched, she studied Rachel and me. "Where is your mother?" she asked. "Rebecca is sadly remiss in domestic matters, but I've never known her to neglect her children."

    Rachel burst into tears. "Mama's dead. She took fever after the Yankees came." She flung herself at Grandma Colby, plainly expecting to be comforted.
    Grandma Colby's face wrinkled in distaste, and she pushed Rachel away. Holding the weeping girl at arm's length, she cried, "What do you mean, Rebecca's dead?"
    I put my arms round Rachel and let her cry all over my jacket. "The Yankees burned our house to the ground," I told Grandma Colby. "Mama took fever. Before she died, she told us to come to you, so we did." I stared at her steadily while I spoke, keeping my voice firm and my eyes dry. I didn't once look at the Union officer, but I wanted him to hear every word.
    Grandma Colby gasped and pressed a hand to her heart. "Rebecca ... dead? The house burned?" She turned to Uncle Cornelius. "Can it be true?"
    Uncle Cornelius looked at me. "I've known Haswell to be a mischievous sort, but I've never known him to lie, Mother."
    Grandma Colby clasped her hands tight and shut her eyes. "Oh, Rebecca, Rebecca, my poor dear Rebecca."
    The aunts gathered round their mother and tried to comfort her, but she pushed their fluttering hands aside. "Leave me be, leave me be," she sobbed. "God in heaven, will there ever be an end to this misery?"
    The Yankee cleared his throat. "The men were most likely renegades of some sort. Deserters. I regret to say the army cannot restrain such villains."
    I turned to the man. "They were cavalrymen from Pennsylvania. They came to our house because they were looking for one of Mosby's men."
    "Oh, good God." The officer lowered his bushy eyebrows. "John Singleton Mosby is a grievous nuisance—a scourge, a devil." He paused and drew on his pipe, then leaned toward me. "Were their suspicions correct? Were you hiding one of that rogue's accursed Bushwhackers?"

    "James Marshall came to us wounded and sick. We took him in, and Mama restored his health. Now, thanks to your men, both James Marshall and Mama are dead."
    While I spoke, my heart pounded hard and my breath came and went, fast and shallow. I didn't know why a Union officer was in my uncle's house or why he seemed so friendly and familiar with him. I glanced at Uncle Cornelius, hoping he'd denounce the Yankees, but he just sat there, twirling his brandy glass and gazing