The Last Full Measure Read Online Free
Author: Ann Rinaldi
our kind. Some of us did. Those who didn't"âand she had to stop talking to choke back a sobâ"were caught by the Rebs, just as we always feared would happen, and lined up early this morning on Chambersburg Street and marched away under guard."
I looked at Marvelous. I could not believe it. She was not looking at me but clinging to her mother like a two-year-old.
Quiet tears were coming down Mary's face. "To the South," she said, "to slavery. We were in that group. Me and Marvelous. My husband, he was at work."
"How did you get away?" David asked.
"The Lord was with us. We slipped away. We come here." Then she did a strange thing. She knelt on the floor. "Oh, please don't send us back. If they come looking for us, don't send us back."
Pa came over then and raised Mary up. "Of course we won't," he said. "Of course we won't. Now comeâsit and have a cup of coffee."
"What will we do, Pa?" David asked.
By the time Marvelous and her mother had had their biscuits and ham and coffee, Pa knew, just as he had known how the town would supply the Rebel infantrymen with clothes and supplies.
"I've always thought," he said, slowly and quietly, "that the belfry of the Christ Lutheran Church would be a wonderful place to hide."
It was agreed upon. And it was given to David and me to do the task. Mama hid Mary and Marvelous in our garret until darkness came, and then David and I spirited them away to Christ Lutheran Church on Chambersburg Street and all the way up to the belfry, which was commodious enough to accommodate them, especially with the pillows and blankets Mama had sent along.
"For how long?" Marvelous asked.
"Until this crisis should pass," David told her.
He did not say what crisis. He did not know, nor did I. But I did know that I would come to see them, to keep them supplied with food. We left some with them now.
"It's a heap better than slavery," her mother reminded Marvelous.
I went to bed that night thinking of Marvelous in the belfry of Christ Lutheran Church, and I never thought of Ramrod at all.
***
P EOPLE LIKE to say that while the Confederates were here they committed no devious acts on us.
Didn't they move seventeen railroad cars a mile out of town during the night and burn them?
Didn't they burn the railroad bridge over Rock Creek?
Weren't the telegraph wires severed?
Didn't they take at least forty darkies, who were free, back south and into slavery?
Didn't they steal my darling horse, Ramrod, away from me?
Didn't they cause a terrible fight between me and my best friend, Jennie Wade?
No trains arrive in town now. No travelers come anymore.
The last of the Rebels who committed no devious acts on us left on Saturday, June twenty-seventh. On Sunday, everyone rejoiced in Gettysburg, saying the town could finally have a peaceful Sabbath as we had always had.
***
E ARLY SUNDAY morning I went up to the belfry of Christ Lutheran Church with David to fetch down Marvelous and her mother, Mary. I had visited them twice, bringing them two meals.
Mary refused to come down. "No, we stay here," she said.
"But the Rebs are gone," David told her. "They left yesterday. All is peaceful now. Come down and have breakfast with us. Ma wants you to."
Mary stood steadfast. "No. They come again. In two days."
Mary sometimes knew things the rest of us did not. Mama said she had "the gift."
"Look," David reasoned. "This morning these bells will ring. You'll be driven out of your head. Come to breakfast. After services you can come back if you wish."
Mary agreed to that.
After services they went back to the belfry.
***
O N MONDAY MORNING Pa left us, saying he was going to be needed. He had all his doctor's equipment, including his
Physician's Handbook of Practice
.
Pa knew something was about to happen. He had intelligence he could not share. It was why he had come home. But he would not tell us a thing, except that the Union army had a thousand ambulances for duty. He kissed us all, said not to
I looked at Marvelous. I could not believe it. She was not looking at me but clinging to her mother like a two-year-old.
Quiet tears were coming down Mary's face. "To the South," she said, "to slavery. We were in that group. Me and Marvelous. My husband, he was at work."
"How did you get away?" David asked.
"The Lord was with us. We slipped away. We come here." Then she did a strange thing. She knelt on the floor. "Oh, please don't send us back. If they come looking for us, don't send us back."
Pa came over then and raised Mary up. "Of course we won't," he said. "Of course we won't. Now comeâsit and have a cup of coffee."
"What will we do, Pa?" David asked.
By the time Marvelous and her mother had had their biscuits and ham and coffee, Pa knew, just as he had known how the town would supply the Rebel infantrymen with clothes and supplies.
"I've always thought," he said, slowly and quietly, "that the belfry of the Christ Lutheran Church would be a wonderful place to hide."
It was agreed upon. And it was given to David and me to do the task. Mama hid Mary and Marvelous in our garret until darkness came, and then David and I spirited them away to Christ Lutheran Church on Chambersburg Street and all the way up to the belfry, which was commodious enough to accommodate them, especially with the pillows and blankets Mama had sent along.
"For how long?" Marvelous asked.
"Until this crisis should pass," David told her.
He did not say what crisis. He did not know, nor did I. But I did know that I would come to see them, to keep them supplied with food. We left some with them now.
"It's a heap better than slavery," her mother reminded Marvelous.
I went to bed that night thinking of Marvelous in the belfry of Christ Lutheran Church, and I never thought of Ramrod at all.
***
P EOPLE LIKE to say that while the Confederates were here they committed no devious acts on us.
Didn't they move seventeen railroad cars a mile out of town during the night and burn them?
Didn't they burn the railroad bridge over Rock Creek?
Weren't the telegraph wires severed?
Didn't they take at least forty darkies, who were free, back south and into slavery?
Didn't they steal my darling horse, Ramrod, away from me?
Didn't they cause a terrible fight between me and my best friend, Jennie Wade?
No trains arrive in town now. No travelers come anymore.
The last of the Rebels who committed no devious acts on us left on Saturday, June twenty-seventh. On Sunday, everyone rejoiced in Gettysburg, saying the town could finally have a peaceful Sabbath as we had always had.
***
E ARLY SUNDAY morning I went up to the belfry of Christ Lutheran Church with David to fetch down Marvelous and her mother, Mary. I had visited them twice, bringing them two meals.
Mary refused to come down. "No, we stay here," she said.
"But the Rebs are gone," David told her. "They left yesterday. All is peaceful now. Come down and have breakfast with us. Ma wants you to."
Mary stood steadfast. "No. They come again. In two days."
Mary sometimes knew things the rest of us did not. Mama said she had "the gift."
"Look," David reasoned. "This morning these bells will ring. You'll be driven out of your head. Come to breakfast. After services you can come back if you wish."
Mary agreed to that.
After services they went back to the belfry.
***
O N MONDAY MORNING Pa left us, saying he was going to be needed. He had all his doctor's equipment, including his
Physician's Handbook of Practice
.
Pa knew something was about to happen. He had intelligence he could not share. It was why he had come home. But he would not tell us a thing, except that the Union army had a thousand ambulances for duty. He kissed us all, said not to
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