difficult than gathering eggs or slopping the pigs. Try as he might, it didn’t make up for the fact that Tom, ten years older than Billy and four younger than Em’s twenty-two, had just joined up with the Union Army after the secessionists took over the governmental buildings in Jefferson City.
Ma was beside herself now with worries. After Pa died, Tom had taken on much of the heavy work that now fell to Em, and Ma was certain Em couldn’t keep the farm going. Ma had her hands full with the younger kids, and hadn’t been herself since Harvey’s birth almost two years ago. Having lost her husband six months before didn’t help.
Em watched Billy struggle to pull his boot out of the mud, wobbling on his other foot. She walked back, bent down and tugged the boot free, noticing the mud beginning to clump on the hem of her dress. “There you go. Now let’s get that boar and put him back in his pen. We have chores to do.”
Rufus, the old red hound, had his nose to the ground and ran off after whatever animal he’d smelled.
Once Cletus found the tender shoots he sought and ate enough to feel indulged, he allowed Em and Billy to guide him back. As the three of them trekked between the trees, through the briars, and around the stumps, Em heard movement to their left. She grabbed Billy’s arm and raised a finger to her lips.
Billy nodded, looking in the direction of the footfalls. Cletus continued on his way, filling the quiet with his satisfied grunts.
Em crouched and Billy did the same. She heard voices now, but they weren’t close enough to make out their words.
Billy looked over his shoulder at her. “It’s Tom,” he whispered.
“How can you tell? I can’t see a thing.”
“I know his voice.”
She shook her head, still unable to make out anything more than the fact they spoke casually, no sense of urgency. That was a good sign, perhaps. After the battle near Boonville to the north, she worried that the Missouri State Guardsmen would ride through their area, recruiting men to fight on the side of the secessionists. It wasn’t likely, with the Union soldiers said to be at one of the forts not far from Springfield, but with Pa in his grave and Tom gone, the protection of her family fell to her.
The voices drew closer, and Em heaved a sigh. “You’re right, Billy. That’s Tom. I should’ve listened to you. Come on.”
She rushed toward the approaching figures. “Tom! What are you doing here?”
“I live here, remember?” He winked at her. He stopped in front of her, setting the butt of his rifle on the toe of his boot, likely to keep it out of the mud. His dark brown hair stuck out beneath his dark blue Union cap. Tom looked so grown up in his uniform. It was hard to think of him as a man now. He was still the brat who used to tug her pigtails and push her down in the pigpen.
A handsome, slightly taller young man, also in uniform, chuckled beside Tom. His straight, brown hair needed a trim, but it simply gave him a more rugged look that belied his crisp military stance. He grinned, sending her pulse racing. The dimple in his left cheek certainly added to his charm, as did the light of laughter in his deep brown eyes.
She tore her gaze away from him to chide her brother. “Don’t be daft. Why aren’t you with the rest of the troop?” Panic suddenly hit, her stomach knotting. “Have the rebels come this far?”
“That’s what we’re here to find out,” the stranger said.
“Lieutenant Lucas, this is my sister, Emily. Em, this is Lieutenant Levi Lucas.”
“It’s a pleasure, Miss Gilmore.” He bowed slightly, like a gentleman, making her wonder where he was from. His accent said Missouri, but few men she knew locally had fine manners like his.
“You find us on reconnaissance,” he continued. “Our company is camped a few miles north of here, so you might see Union soldiers passing through. No need to alarm yourself.”
“That tells me you believe the rebels are here.” She
Ma was beside herself now with worries. After Pa died, Tom had taken on much of the heavy work that now fell to Em, and Ma was certain Em couldn’t keep the farm going. Ma had her hands full with the younger kids, and hadn’t been herself since Harvey’s birth almost two years ago. Having lost her husband six months before didn’t help.
Em watched Billy struggle to pull his boot out of the mud, wobbling on his other foot. She walked back, bent down and tugged the boot free, noticing the mud beginning to clump on the hem of her dress. “There you go. Now let’s get that boar and put him back in his pen. We have chores to do.”
Rufus, the old red hound, had his nose to the ground and ran off after whatever animal he’d smelled.
Once Cletus found the tender shoots he sought and ate enough to feel indulged, he allowed Em and Billy to guide him back. As the three of them trekked between the trees, through the briars, and around the stumps, Em heard movement to their left. She grabbed Billy’s arm and raised a finger to her lips.
Billy nodded, looking in the direction of the footfalls. Cletus continued on his way, filling the quiet with his satisfied grunts.
Em crouched and Billy did the same. She heard voices now, but they weren’t close enough to make out their words.
Billy looked over his shoulder at her. “It’s Tom,” he whispered.
“How can you tell? I can’t see a thing.”
“I know his voice.”
She shook her head, still unable to make out anything more than the fact they spoke casually, no sense of urgency. That was a good sign, perhaps. After the battle near Boonville to the north, she worried that the Missouri State Guardsmen would ride through their area, recruiting men to fight on the side of the secessionists. It wasn’t likely, with the Union soldiers said to be at one of the forts not far from Springfield, but with Pa in his grave and Tom gone, the protection of her family fell to her.
The voices drew closer, and Em heaved a sigh. “You’re right, Billy. That’s Tom. I should’ve listened to you. Come on.”
She rushed toward the approaching figures. “Tom! What are you doing here?”
“I live here, remember?” He winked at her. He stopped in front of her, setting the butt of his rifle on the toe of his boot, likely to keep it out of the mud. His dark brown hair stuck out beneath his dark blue Union cap. Tom looked so grown up in his uniform. It was hard to think of him as a man now. He was still the brat who used to tug her pigtails and push her down in the pigpen.
A handsome, slightly taller young man, also in uniform, chuckled beside Tom. His straight, brown hair needed a trim, but it simply gave him a more rugged look that belied his crisp military stance. He grinned, sending her pulse racing. The dimple in his left cheek certainly added to his charm, as did the light of laughter in his deep brown eyes.
She tore her gaze away from him to chide her brother. “Don’t be daft. Why aren’t you with the rest of the troop?” Panic suddenly hit, her stomach knotting. “Have the rebels come this far?”
“That’s what we’re here to find out,” the stranger said.
“Lieutenant Lucas, this is my sister, Emily. Em, this is Lieutenant Levi Lucas.”
“It’s a pleasure, Miss Gilmore.” He bowed slightly, like a gentleman, making her wonder where he was from. His accent said Missouri, but few men she knew locally had fine manners like his.
“You find us on reconnaissance,” he continued. “Our company is camped a few miles north of here, so you might see Union soldiers passing through. No need to alarm yourself.”
“That tells me you believe the rebels are here.” She
Similar Books
