The Last Full Measure Read Online Free Page B
Author: Ann Rinaldi
wondered.
Or what? Beer? Buttermilk?
The soldiers stopped their horses and accepted the gifts, lifted their hats. Some leaned down from their saddles and kissed the girls' hands. I thrilled at that.
Some girls handed up flowers and started singing "Our Union Forever," and the men tucked flowers in their hats.
Then one officer, leading a brigade, broke away and, seeing David standing there, halted to speak to him.
He asked my brother which was the best way to get out to Chambersburg Pike.
"If you can wait just a second, I'll get my horse. She's saddled," David said. "I'll show you the way."
The officer agreed, and David ran around the side of the house.
So that's why his horse was saddled. So he could be ready for something like this
, I thought.
The officer smiled at me. I saw a kind of fondness in his blue eyes as he took my measure and I knew what it was. I knew I was old enough and pretty enough to be appreciated now by a handsome young officer who sported a dashing mustache. In a respectful manner, of course.
My hair, which was of a sandy color, I wore loose to my shoulders most of the time, though Mama preferred me to tie it back, proper-like. My eyes were amber brown. Pa said some man would drown in them someday, but he hoped not too soon, that he hoped my long, fringed eyelashes would keep him from falling in.
And I was starting to get a figure, finally, at long last.
I smiled back at the officer now, taken not only by the considerable looks of him but by the picture he presented, his sleek horse, the excellent condition of its bridle and halter, the Colt .45 he carried in his holster, the saber he wore.
And in the sling hung from his saddle, the Springfield rifle.
I recognized all his accouterments because Joel and Brandon carried the same things.
"I'm Captain Jensen," he said, and he asked of David, "He your brother?"
"My name's Tacy. Yessir. He's not in the army because of his twisted leg. I have two other brothers serving with the Second Pennsylvania Cavalry. And my pa's a physician with the army. Can I get you some water, sir?"
"That would be nice, Miss Tacy."
So I dashed into the house then and, quick as a rabbit twitches its nose, came out with a sparkling glass of water.
The officer drank it down in one gulp, handed back the glass, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and thanked me.
Then David came around the side of the house on his horse. "Behave yourself," he admonished sternly.
The officer saw in an instant the connection between us, put his hand to the brim of his hat in a salute, nodded his head, and winked at me.
I wished him good luck. Then he rode off with David. His impatient brigade followed.
In no time at all they were out of sight and lost in the dust that the rest of the cavalry made as they rode down the street.
I was about to go reluctantly back into the house when I heard someone calling me.
"Tacy! Tacy!"
I turned. A girl had broken away from a crowd of people across the street. Nancy Burns. She went to school with me. She lived with her mother and grandfather over on Chambersburg Street. Her pa and older brother were both gone for soldiers.
Nancy's grandfather was from Scotland and said he was descended from the Scottish poet Robert Burns. He told stories about being in the War of 1812 and the Mexican War. He was past seventy now and waiting for the Rebs to come to Gettysburg. He would, he told his family, be ready to fight.
He had tried to enlist but been turned down.
He embarrassed Nancy, because many in town laughed at him. He waited impatiently for an eclipse of the moon. He spoke constantly of fighting. He drank and roamed the town and threw insults at people.
Nancy's mother had her hands full trying to control her father, and so, quite frequently, did not pay mind to what her daughter was about. Now Nancy ran to the stoop of my house.
"Can you come?" She was breathless with excitement, her face flushed, her golden curls askew. "A few of us are going to the
Or what? Beer? Buttermilk?
The soldiers stopped their horses and accepted the gifts, lifted their hats. Some leaned down from their saddles and kissed the girls' hands. I thrilled at that.
Some girls handed up flowers and started singing "Our Union Forever," and the men tucked flowers in their hats.
Then one officer, leading a brigade, broke away and, seeing David standing there, halted to speak to him.
He asked my brother which was the best way to get out to Chambersburg Pike.
"If you can wait just a second, I'll get my horse. She's saddled," David said. "I'll show you the way."
The officer agreed, and David ran around the side of the house.
So that's why his horse was saddled. So he could be ready for something like this
, I thought.
The officer smiled at me. I saw a kind of fondness in his blue eyes as he took my measure and I knew what it was. I knew I was old enough and pretty enough to be appreciated now by a handsome young officer who sported a dashing mustache. In a respectful manner, of course.
My hair, which was of a sandy color, I wore loose to my shoulders most of the time, though Mama preferred me to tie it back, proper-like. My eyes were amber brown. Pa said some man would drown in them someday, but he hoped not too soon, that he hoped my long, fringed eyelashes would keep him from falling in.
And I was starting to get a figure, finally, at long last.
I smiled back at the officer now, taken not only by the considerable looks of him but by the picture he presented, his sleek horse, the excellent condition of its bridle and halter, the Colt .45 he carried in his holster, the saber he wore.
And in the sling hung from his saddle, the Springfield rifle.
I recognized all his accouterments because Joel and Brandon carried the same things.
"I'm Captain Jensen," he said, and he asked of David, "He your brother?"
"My name's Tacy. Yessir. He's not in the army because of his twisted leg. I have two other brothers serving with the Second Pennsylvania Cavalry. And my pa's a physician with the army. Can I get you some water, sir?"
"That would be nice, Miss Tacy."
So I dashed into the house then and, quick as a rabbit twitches its nose, came out with a sparkling glass of water.
The officer drank it down in one gulp, handed back the glass, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and thanked me.
Then David came around the side of the house on his horse. "Behave yourself," he admonished sternly.
The officer saw in an instant the connection between us, put his hand to the brim of his hat in a salute, nodded his head, and winked at me.
I wished him good luck. Then he rode off with David. His impatient brigade followed.
In no time at all they were out of sight and lost in the dust that the rest of the cavalry made as they rode down the street.
I was about to go reluctantly back into the house when I heard someone calling me.
"Tacy! Tacy!"
I turned. A girl had broken away from a crowd of people across the street. Nancy Burns. She went to school with me. She lived with her mother and grandfather over on Chambersburg Street. Her pa and older brother were both gone for soldiers.
Nancy's grandfather was from Scotland and said he was descended from the Scottish poet Robert Burns. He told stories about being in the War of 1812 and the Mexican War. He was past seventy now and waiting for the Rebs to come to Gettysburg. He would, he told his family, be ready to fight.
He had tried to enlist but been turned down.
He embarrassed Nancy, because many in town laughed at him. He waited impatiently for an eclipse of the moon. He spoke constantly of fighting. He drank and roamed the town and threw insults at people.
Nancy's mother had her hands full trying to control her father, and so, quite frequently, did not pay mind to what her daughter was about. Now Nancy ran to the stoop of my house.
"Can you come?" She was breathless with excitement, her face flushed, her golden curls askew. "A few of us are going to the
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