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Authors: Lisa Klein
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persisted.
“If all the slaves were freed, who would farm the cotton and tobacco?”
“Pay them to work. Like Papa pays Amos.”
“Not everyone agrees with your father,” murmured Rosanna.
“What do you mean?” I demanded, but Rosanna merely shook her head.
“Lizzie, I’m glad Amos is free and I hope he and Grace are reunited. I don’t want to defend slavery, but without it, the entire South would collapse. Is that what everyone wants out of this war? To humiliate and destroy us? Well, we won’t let it happen.”
With that, she grabbed her notebook and swept from the room. I gazed into the sputtering fire as worry gnawed at me. When Rosanna had said “us” and “we,” she sounded like a Southerner.
Margaret came into the parlor and set about straightening and dusting.
“I heard your quarrel,” she said, giving me a sympathetic look. “Rosanna’s been upset all week. We got a letter from Mother begging us to come back to Richmond. It had to be smuggled out because there is no post. She writes that there is no food because of the blockade, and the whole of Virginia is a battleground. I would never take the children there.” She paused in her tidying up and sighed. “But I think Rosanna misses our parents.”
I wondered if it was John Wilcox she was missing. But I merely nodded and picked up my cloak.
“She’s even touchy with me. I’m so glad she has you for a friend!” said Margaret, kissing me as I took my leave.
Soon our quarrel seemed forgotten. Rosanna purchased a map of Virginia to assist with her writing assignments. Together we marked the movements of the Pennsylvania volunteers. As we stuck pins at Hunter’s Mill, Alexandria, and Manassas Junction, it was clear thatGeneral McClellan was driving the Union army toward Richmond. Soon, it seemed, Company K would face the rebels in battle. But the army was moving at the pace of a snail. It was April, and they had advanced no farther than Fredericksburg.
“That’s barely thirty-five miles from where they broke camp in March,” I mused to Rosanna. “Why, you and I could walk faster than that.”
“Not with fifty pounds of gear on our backs,” Rosanna replied. “That’s how much Henry says they carry.”
“Can you imagine us living in a tent and having to dig our own latrines? I don’t know how Luke can stand it.” I shuddered.
“No, I wouldn’t survive a single day,” said Rosanna. “Why, who would arrange my hair?” she added primly.
The thought made us both collapse with laughter.
“I do wonder what McClellan’s strategy is,” I said, wiping my eyes.
“He is afraid to attack Richmond,” Rosanna said firmly. “Because he knows that it cannot be taken.”
“How can you be so sure?” I replied, trying to hide my irritation. I wanted Richmond to fall, for then the war would end, and Papa and Luke could come home.
“All the Union generals put together aren’t worth one General Lee,” Rosanna declared. “And we will fight harder, because we are defending our country from the Yankees.”
There it was again—“we”—and Rosanna didn’t mean she and I. I didn’t want to quarrel again. I stood up and put my shawl around me.
“I think I should leave now.”
“I’m sorry, Lizzie. Don’t go away angry,” Rosanna said, taking my hand in a beseeching way.
“I’m not angry,” I said. I could not put it into words, my helpless regret that Rosanna was slipping away from me.
I heard the steady zzzt, zzzt, zzzt of Margaret’s shears. In the dining room, Ginnie Wade bent over the sewing machine that clicked and whirred like a tiny train while she guided a pair of blue worsted trousers under the needle.
I nodded to them over the noise as I passed through and almost collided with Jack and Clara. The children had come marching into the room, making pum-pum-pa-dum noises with their mouths. They wore blue uniforms with jacket buttons gleaming in double rows. Clara’s had a wide skirt, while Jack wore tiny trousers. Margaret must
“If all the slaves were freed, who would farm the cotton and tobacco?”
“Pay them to work. Like Papa pays Amos.”
“Not everyone agrees with your father,” murmured Rosanna.
“What do you mean?” I demanded, but Rosanna merely shook her head.
“Lizzie, I’m glad Amos is free and I hope he and Grace are reunited. I don’t want to defend slavery, but without it, the entire South would collapse. Is that what everyone wants out of this war? To humiliate and destroy us? Well, we won’t let it happen.”
With that, she grabbed her notebook and swept from the room. I gazed into the sputtering fire as worry gnawed at me. When Rosanna had said “us” and “we,” she sounded like a Southerner.
Margaret came into the parlor and set about straightening and dusting.
“I heard your quarrel,” she said, giving me a sympathetic look. “Rosanna’s been upset all week. We got a letter from Mother begging us to come back to Richmond. It had to be smuggled out because there is no post. She writes that there is no food because of the blockade, and the whole of Virginia is a battleground. I would never take the children there.” She paused in her tidying up and sighed. “But I think Rosanna misses our parents.”
I wondered if it was John Wilcox she was missing. But I merely nodded and picked up my cloak.
“She’s even touchy with me. I’m so glad she has you for a friend!” said Margaret, kissing me as I took my leave.
Soon our quarrel seemed forgotten. Rosanna purchased a map of Virginia to assist with her writing assignments. Together we marked the movements of the Pennsylvania volunteers. As we stuck pins at Hunter’s Mill, Alexandria, and Manassas Junction, it was clear thatGeneral McClellan was driving the Union army toward Richmond. Soon, it seemed, Company K would face the rebels in battle. But the army was moving at the pace of a snail. It was April, and they had advanced no farther than Fredericksburg.
“That’s barely thirty-five miles from where they broke camp in March,” I mused to Rosanna. “Why, you and I could walk faster than that.”
“Not with fifty pounds of gear on our backs,” Rosanna replied. “That’s how much Henry says they carry.”
“Can you imagine us living in a tent and having to dig our own latrines? I don’t know how Luke can stand it.” I shuddered.
“No, I wouldn’t survive a single day,” said Rosanna. “Why, who would arrange my hair?” she added primly.
The thought made us both collapse with laughter.
“I do wonder what McClellan’s strategy is,” I said, wiping my eyes.
“He is afraid to attack Richmond,” Rosanna said firmly. “Because he knows that it cannot be taken.”
“How can you be so sure?” I replied, trying to hide my irritation. I wanted Richmond to fall, for then the war would end, and Papa and Luke could come home.
“All the Union generals put together aren’t worth one General Lee,” Rosanna declared. “And we will fight harder, because we are defending our country from the Yankees.”
There it was again—“we”—and Rosanna didn’t mean she and I. I didn’t want to quarrel again. I stood up and put my shawl around me.
“I think I should leave now.”
“I’m sorry, Lizzie. Don’t go away angry,” Rosanna said, taking my hand in a beseeching way.
“I’m not angry,” I said. I could not put it into words, my helpless regret that Rosanna was slipping away from me.
I heard the steady zzzt, zzzt, zzzt of Margaret’s shears. In the dining room, Ginnie Wade bent over the sewing machine that clicked and whirred like a tiny train while she guided a pair of blue worsted trousers under the needle.
I nodded to them over the noise as I passed through and almost collided with Jack and Clara. The children had come marching into the room, making pum-pum-pa-dum noises with their mouths. They wore blue uniforms with jacket buttons gleaming in double rows. Clara’s had a wide skirt, while Jack wore tiny trousers. Margaret must
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