by Angela Moody
Father sat in his seat, his Bible at his right elbow. “We didn’t want to tell General Early no, but we also didn’t want to tell him we sent everything to Philadelphia.” He aimed most of his commentary at Sam, sitting next to him, his elbows on the table and chin in hand.
The boy listened, face enraptured. “What happened next?”
Father shook his head. “Well, we feared if he found out, he would become enraged and either burn the town to the ground or allow wholesale looting.”
Mother took her seat. “I’m sure you all did the right thing, James. Samuel, get your elbows off the table.”
Sam yanked his arms to his side as though afraid someone might swipe them out from under him.
Maggie sat, and Tillie slid into her place next to Mother.
Father opened the Bible to James and read from chapter one. He cast occasional glances at Tillie. “My Brethren, count it all joy when ye fall into diverse temptations, knowing this, that the trying of your faith worketh patience. But let patience have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect and entire, wanting nothing.”
She eyed him. Did he send her a message?
“If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all and it shall be given him. But let him ask in faith, nothing wavering. For he that wavereth is like a wave of the sea, driven with the wind and tossed.”
Her scalp tingled, and her heart pounded with recognition. Her conversation with Maggie came back to her. What did she say? That’s what happens when we take our eyes off God. Tillie bowed her head.
He finished reading, put the Bible away, and strode back into the room.
“What did you decide to do, Mr. Pierce?” Sam speared a potato.
Father picked up his fork and knife and cut his beef. “We did a lot of arguing and finger wagging, but no one came to a consensus about what to do or say. We needed to do something. Kendlehart quieted the committee down and said we wasted enough time. He, Buehler, and I went to talk to the general.”
“What happened next?” Sam’s elbows grazed the table. He shot a glance at Mother and snapped them to his sides again.
“Well, we left to go find General Early—he took over Moses McLean’s house—much to his consternation.” Father chuckled. “Imagine McLean forced to play host to a Confederate general and his staff. He’s pretty peeved, but with a young family to care for, he can’t very well say no.” He took a bite of his beef and chewed while they waited for him to continue. He sipped his coffee and prepared to take another forkful.
“James, dear, please, go on with your story. What happened next?” Mother put a forkful of peas in her mouth.
Father eyebrows shot high in feigned surprise. He turned smiling eyes upon her. “Oh, yes, I’m sorry, my love. Well, the three of us approached and found the general standing outside McLean’s house talking with some of his officers. We waited, as nervous as long-tailed cats in a room full of rocking chairs. After some time, he acknowledged us. I had no idea what Kendlehart would say, but Kendlehart’s a genius.” He scooped up some peas.
“Go on, Father, please. What happened next?” Maggie’s dull monotone hit them all like a snowball to the face as she spooned some cucumbers onto her plate. She thumped the bowl down and blinked back tears. She picked up her napkin and dabbed at her nose and eyes.
Father glanced at her, brows creased. He swallowed and wiped his mouth. “Well, General Early acknowledged us, and Kendlehart says to him, ‘We’ve come in response to your request for supplies. We regret to inform you it is impossible for Gettysburg to supply the requisitions you requested.’ He stopped, and we all waited to see what he would say. Can anybody guess what General Early said?” He eyed them, a big smile crinkling his face. “He said the town appeared rather prosperous, and he didn’t believe we were so destitute. Kendlehart insisted we told the truth. He even went so far as to say York is much more well-to-do. Buehler and I stood like perfect angels as he outright lied.” He buttered his bread. “It’s not an actual lie, as we don’t physically have the supplies here, but still.” He chuckled. “Kendlehart told him his men were welcome to peruse our shops, and if they found something worthy of buying, may make the required purchases, and not in Confederate script, only gold or greenbacks.” He burst out laughing.
“I don’t understand.” Tillie’s brows creased. She risked a comment and Father’s renewed attention. “Why is that funny?”
“Because, his men must pay for their goods and our shop owners get to make some money off the Rebs.” He chewed another piece of beef. “We’re saying no, without appearing to say no. We won’t give away our supplies. Our merchants will charge double to make up for the Confederate currency they will most likely receive. Now do you understand?”
Tillie nodded when the others smiled. “Yes.” She still didn’t get the humor.
“What did General Early say?” Sam’s fork slipped from his fingers and clattered on his plate. He picked it up, turning red.
“Seems he agreed to our proposition.”
Chapter 8
Tillie quaked as Father led her into the parlor. “Matilda Jane, your rebellion must stop. I don’t understand what’s gotten into you, child. You’ve never spoken to Mother or me the way you did the other night. First, your disgraceful outburst over Lady, and now, Mother tells me there’s no point to Bible study. Explain yourself.”
Tillie shifted. “I just—I…” Why did she always stammer so when he scolded her? She raised her shoulders to the level of her ears and dropped them. She fought back a surge of tears. She didn’t like him unhappy with her. If only the floor would swallow her. “I’m sorry, Father. Sometimes I get frustrated because I don’t understand how these things can happen.”
“What don’t you understand?”
She played with a crease of her skirt. “I don’t see what good can come of war. Why do men do these things to one another?” Her heart hammered her chest, and her fingers shook as they fiddled with a pleat. Still, she rushed on. “I don’t accept God wants us to kill each other and treat people so badly, yet we do. Why did George have to die? We all will someday, but why him? Why so young? Doesn’t seem fair! Why does He let these things happen and not do something?” Her words came out in a rush, like a burst dam.
“Well.” Father cleared his throat, adjusting himself in his seat. “Where do I start? How about we take them one at a time, shall we?”
She stared at him, wary. “I’m not in trouble?”
“No. Not when you express what’s in your heart if you do so in a non-rebellious way as you’ve just done. When you misbehave, yes, you are.”
Tillie released her breath in a huff of air, but suppressed a relieved smile. He wasn’t mad at her.
“War is a terrible thing, you’re right.” He placed his elbows on his knees. “But some wars, like this one, are righteous. Even the Old Testament talks about war. Look at David and Goliath.” He searched her eyes. “It’s hard to see, in the midst of it, what good can come of hostilities. I think our country will come out the better for this particular one. I can’t say how I know, because there’s nothing to base my reasoning on.” He took a deep breath. “I pray slavery will be abolished forever, and when free of that sin, we will become the God-fearing nation we can be.” He took her hand in his scarred one.
Tillie studied his shortened finger.
“You’re also right, God doesn’t want us to fight each other, but that’s what our sin does. We have free will, coupled with a state of sin that only faith in Jesus Christ can help us to overcome.”
She whispered the words, mulling them over. “Is that why, even though I try so hard to be good and obey you and Mother, I still get in trouble for misbehaving? Because of my sinful state?” She turned frightened eyes to her father.
He took a long time to respond. He rubbed the top of her hand with his. She watched the play of his white cotton shirt across his broad shoulders and arms.
He sat back, releasing her hand. “Yes, but it’s what’s in y
our heart as well. For instance, every time you react with frustration when Sam asks for help with his studies, your sinful nature shows. You give willing assistance in the end, but always at first, you grumble and complain. Another example is the expression on your face when Ginny hollered over at us. I must confess shock over the hatred you displayed.”
Tillie wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like her. I don’t know what happened between William and her, but I’ve not liked her ever since.”
“What happened between them is William’s affair, not yours. She wasn’t right for him, and he cut off any further interest, lest she get the wrong idea. Her behavior over the entire matter was most unkind, but it doesn’t concern you. Ginny needs our prayers, not our enmity.”
“It does when she tries to get us—Mother—into trouble with the Rebs.” Tillie heated up, more words rushing to her tongue.
“No, it doesn’t.” He cut her short and patted her hand. “That concerns your mother and me. Now, I thank you for being so willing to come to our defense, but it isn’t necessary.”
Tillie twisted her cotton skirt. “What about George?” Emotion choked her voice.
“A terrible tragedy, my dear. I’m grateful you’re grieved about it. I had the impression you didn’t like him much. He was a God-fearing man who’s in heaven now. I’m as certain of that as I am sitting here talking to you.”
“How do you know heaven and hell exist? You’ve never seen them. He hasn’t come back and told us.”
“Through faith. Remember, Hebrews eleven tells us ‘faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.’”
Tillie’s brow creased. She opened her mouth to ask another question, but someone pounded on the front door.
Father sat back. “Answer the door.” His voice shook. He rose from his chair and tugged on the bottom of his waistcoat.
Tillie answered the door. Margaretta Kendlehart stood on the step, her hand raised to knock again.
A blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl, no older than fourteen, glanced around her as though afraid of being caught. “Hi, Tillie. Is your father home? My father wants me to deliver a message.”
“Come in.” Pulling the door wide, Tillie led their guest into the parlor. Father greeted Margaretta Kendlehart and helped her to a seat. Tillie left to find Mother.
“Mother, Margaretta Kendlehart is downstairs. She has a message for Father from Mr. Kendlehart.”
Mother’s eyes widened, and her brows came together in a scowl. She looked at the floor as though able to see through the floorboards to the parlor. Then she drew a deep breath through her nostrils. She rearranged her face and forced an encouraging smile. Replacing her pen in its holder, she picked up her papers and tapped them together against the desk before placing them to one side. Rising, she smoothed her dress.
Tillie breathed in the scent of lemon verbena surrounding her mother. She gave Mother a genuine smile.
Mother kissed Tillie’s forehead, then went downstairs.
Should she follow, or did this not concern her? She followed. Maggie and Sam stood inside the sitting room door, listening to the conversation in the parlor. Tillie joined them.
“…Fears the rebels reconsidered the offer. General Early sent a courier to our house. My father instructed me to tell him he wasn’t home. The man accepted that and rode away. Papa slipped away, fearing repercussions. We heard about what happened with your horse, so he told me to warn you.”
The three of them exchanged glances. Maggie wrung her hands.
Sam lowered his chin to his chest. He crossed his arms and shifted his feet, widening his stance. “If my sister gets your father in trouble, I’ll never forgive her.”
Maggie slashed a hand through the air, shushing him.
“Thank you, my dear.” Father’s unconcerned tone soothed Tillie as he led Margaretta to the door. “Go home as quickly as you can. We don’t want anyone to see you came here tonight.”
“Yes, sir.” The girl reached for the doorknob. “I do pray you’ll be all right.”
“We’ll pray for your father’s safety. Now, run on home. Try not to stir suspicion.”
When the door closed behind her, Father glanced around at them.
Mother twirled and ran upstairs. He watched her go, frowning. Then he sighed and turned back to the three who waited for him to speak.
“Well, children.” He stepped toward them.
Mother returned holding his valise, which she thumped to the floor. “You may need this. Fanny told me she prepared one for Mr. Buehler, ready in case. She didn’t answer the door right away to give him time to slip out the back with his postage equipment. When you came back from your visit with Colonel White, I thought it a good idea, so I packed this for you.”
Father shook his head.
“James, you must! If they come and take you away, what shall we do?” She picked up the bag and thrust it out to him. “You went and asked Colonel White for Lady. You were part of the delegation refusing to give General Early supplies. What if you’re marked for arrest?”
Father took the valise from her hand and set it down. He led her into the sitting room, where he sat in his chair, pulling her down into his lap. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles.
Mother rushed on, “I think you should disappear too. I can care for Sam and the girls. I want you to be safe.”
“They may not remember my name. I never spoke to General Early. Kendlehart did all the talking.” Father invited them all to stand around his chair. “No one came to the door except Margaretta. We don’t want to overreact. Besides, I’m not the kind of man who abandons his family. I know why Buehler left; he’s the postmaster. It’s Federal property and worth a good deal of money to the Confederates if they get their hands on it. Young Hughes went into hiding with his telegraph equipment. That also belongs to the government, so I’m glad.” He drew in a deep breath. “While we waited for General Early, I overheard the soldiers tell him they didn’t get control of either the telegraph apparatus, or the postal operations, so they targeted them. I don’t think Kendlehart had a real reason for running. I’m not saying anything against him. I’m saying I refuse to run.”
“Yes, but what of Colonel White? What if he should supply your name?”
“I’ll take that chance, Margaret. I’ve done nothing wrong. The Rebs have more important things to deal with than a man and his lame horse.”
He sounded confident as he put his arms around his wife and held her close. Outside, hooves rang on the cobblestones.
His eyes darted to the window. Tillie’s heart pounded in her chest. She caught the trepidation in his eyes, and a shiver raced up her spine. He smiled. If he showed bravery in the face of the unknown, she would too.
Father made eye contact with each member of his family. “I’m staying here, whatever happens.” He kissed his wife. “Don’t worry about me, my love. Let’s concentrate on the children and keep them safe.”
Mother offered a shaky smile. “You’re right, dearest.”
Father gave her a quick squeeze before he lifted her from his lap. He rose to his feet, kissed her forehead, and stepped into the hallway where he picked up his valise. He raised his arm to show them. “I’m going upstairs to unpack this and put my things away.”
No one spoke as he disappeared from sight.
* * * *
Sunday morning dawned bright and hot. Church bells in every quadrant of Gettysburg pealed out, calling all believers to worship. Praying the intruders departed for good, Tillie and her family walked to the Methodist Church on Middle Street. Other neighbors also made their way to services.
On any other Sunday, people called out hellos and gathered in groups as they made their way to their respective churches, but not this morning. People left their houses, heads down, moving as fast as propriety allowed. Those who usually rode in from the surrounding countryside stayed away. Tillie walked behind Mother and Father, between Sam and Maggie. Father strode ahead, his head down.<
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Mother glanced at him several times as they moved along the street. “Is something bothering you, James?” She tucked her hand into his arm.
He patted her hand. “I can’t get those poor people from York out of my mind. I feel guilty for telling the Rebs to go there. I had a twinge of conscience when Kendlehart mentioned the idea, but I kept my thoughts to myself. Now I wish I’d spoken up.” He smiled at her concerned face. “We should never have foisted our problem on them.” He shrugged.
“I see.” Mother leaned into him, but said nothing more. They fell silent for a block.
“Sure is quiet today.” Sam peered down the street. “It’s…eerie.”
“Sam’s right.” Maggie also scanned the area as if she expected a Reb to jump out of the bushes. “Everything feels strange and out of place. Almost as if the Rebels aren’t gone, they’re hiding. “
“Come now.” Mother smiled back at them. “You all have the jimjams now the Rebs are gone. A rousing church service will do us all a world of good.”
Tillie doubted so, but walked on, shuffling her feet, feeling sorry for herself. After everything calmed down last night, Father resumed his conversation with her and set out an assignment for her to pay attention to the sermon and to write an essay. Then to do four new verses in the Bible. So unfair!
“I’ve been lax with you,” he told her and left the room. Mother said the same thing.
Now, as they walked to church, those words canted a rhythm in her head. I’ve been lax with you. I’ve been lax with you.…
After they sang the opening hymn, Tillie seated herself and picked up a pew Bible prepared to do battle with the text.
Reverend Bergstrasser, hands clasped in front of him, climbed the podium with slow, deliberate steps and turned his solemn face to the congregation. “Please turn to Matthew, chapter ten.” Even in giving instructions, he sounded monotonous.
Tillie sighed and opened the Bible.
After the reverend’s opening remarks, she drifted off, back to Friday’s exciting events. Her heart raced with the recollection. Now with the danger passed, she found the situation exhilarating. The only pain was the loss of Lady, and she prayed they didn’t mistreat her.
