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Gigi Admin
Posts : 48 Join date : 2013-03-29 Location : Pennsylvania
| Subject: Gettysburg Story. Does not have a title yet. Sat Mar 30, 2013 6:41 pm | |
| Title: Gettysburg Story. Does not have a title yet. Any ideas? Author:Gigi Genre:Historical Fiction Summary: Frances is the granddaughter of the only man truly willing to lead a regiment in the Civil War. Her grandfather's name is John Burns. When her brother and grandfather go off to fight the Confederate soldiers, she tries to stop them.
Last edited by Gigi on Sat Mar 30, 2013 6:42 pm; edited 1 time in total | |
| | | Gigi Admin
Posts : 48 Join date : 2013-03-29 Location : Pennsylvania
| Subject: Re: Gettysburg Story. Does not have a title yet. Sat Mar 30, 2013 6:41 pm | |
| Chapter 1 - Spoiler:
It was a quiet night. There was no laughter coming from the Prancing Pony inn. There weren’t even any lights shining through the windows of the general store. Everyone was in the comfort of their own home. Fires burned low in the hearths, and babies slept peacefully in their cradles. In almost every house though, there were at least a few people pacing the floors, worrying about tomorrow. They were waiting. Waiting for what, they did not know. The next day could bring a celebration, or also great mourning. The men and boys had left, and would return in the morning. What they would find waiting for them was the mystery. Would the Rebs have marched into town by then, or might reinforcements have arrived? It was anybody’s guess. The worrying had begun a week ago when a man came galloping into the town square. He brought news of an army, a huge army that was heading straight towards Gettysburg. General Lee had finally dared to cross into Union land, and no one was stopping him. No one, except old John Burns. ************* France had always admired her grandfather. She and her older brother Frank loved hearing him tell stories about his days in the War of 1812. His hands would fly through the air as he demonstrated how to shoot at the “fleeing Brits.” The two children listened with rapt attention to tales of heroic men who had died fighting for their country. Frances disliked the parts about battles, and instead wanted to hear about what the Indians looked like. Frank, however, loved to listen to long boring battle strategies, and Frances would have to sit through them. Her eyes would begin to glaze over, and her head begin to nod. Finally, grandfather would notice, and tell a more interesting story. Frank loved to pretend he was a great general, and marched around the house with a broom balanced on shoulder. Momma would swat him on the head when he pointed it at the baby. To appease her, Frank would pretend to miss. It did not make her any happier about it for some reason. Grandfather would chuckle and tell Frank how to strategize his maneuvers better. There had been no story-telling or play acting these last two years however. Battles and deaths were no longer just stories; they were reality. A few boys from town had joined the army. None had come back yet, but thankfully they weren’t dead. Frank had wanted to volunteer, but the recruiters said fourteen was too young to go to war. He had sulked around the house for a few days, but was finally back to his old self now. Frances was very glad the recruiters had said Franks was too young. Her brother did not seem to realize that war was not a game. Grandfather wasn’t helping her case either. “If I weren’t so old and bent over, I’d run over to that draft office as fast as I could, and get myself a uniform,” he always said. “The army needs a hearty veteran like me to help ‘em out.” Momma would just shake her head. She did not approve of fighting, and thought war a great evil. She had a right to think so, as her father had died in the same French and Indian war that Grandfather told so many stories about. She disapproved of him telling the children about the war, but did not forbid it. She would just cluck her tongue and go about her business. *********** It was a few days after Frank had tried to enlist in the army. Frances was trying to make a cake for bay Mary’s third birthday. She had never attempted it, but Momma said it was very simple. Two cups flour, a cup of milk, three eggs. Sounded easy enough. It turned out to be much more difficult than it looked. First, the flour was clumped up so Frances had to run it through a sieve. Then, the cow had to be milked, and there were no eggs to be found. “Why don’t you run over to Mrs. Prewett’s and see if she has any eggs you can borrow?” Momma was brushing Mary’s brown curls while trying to stir a pot of soup boiling over the fire. “She’ll probably have a few to spare.” “I’ll be back in a few minutes then,” said Frances. She grabbed a small basket and went out to the road that ran in front of the house. The day was bright and sunny. Bluebirds chirped in the trees, and you could hear the clip-clop of horses trotting up and down the street. There were lots of people out and about, since it was such a nice summer day. Children played tag in the street, and darted out of the way when a carriage rumbled past. Frances walked slowly down the sidewalk. She was in no hurry to return to the stuffy house. Mrs. Prewett, who was an older lady, often gave visiting children cookies and cakes. That was one of the reasons that Frank and Frances loved going there. Mrs. Prewett was a sweet, grandmotherly type of lady, and since she lived alone, enjoyed having people visit her. When she reached the small bakery that Mrs. Prewett owned, she knocked quite loudly on the wooden door. Momma had told her to knock a bit louder than usual, as Mrs. Prewett’s hearing wasn’t as good as it used to be. She wasn’t as capable of running her business, and her only daughter lived far away in New York. So Frances had volunteered to help her a couple times a week. The old lady was almost as interesting as Grandfather, as she had been a little girl during the revolutionary war. She seemed ancient to Frances, who was only 12. She could hear Mrs. Prewett slowly approaching the door. The footsteps stopped and the door was flung open. It wasn’t Mrs. Prewett standing behind the door. It was a total stranger. “Who are you?” asked Frances. “Where’s Mrs. Prewett?” “She’s in bed, miss. She got a fever, and ain’t ‘allowed to git up ‘til tomorrow,” said the stranger. It was an older girl, maybe around 18. She spoke like she was from the country. Maybe a distant relative of Mrs. Prewett. “Can I see her? I was supposed to borrow some eggs for my mother.” Frances had had no idea that Mrs. Prewett was ill. Normally, the doctor would take care of sick people, but since the war, he had gone off to an army hospital. He was one of the few men from Gettysburg who had gone off to fight against the South. Frances was proud to say that her father was one of them. “I dunno ‘bout you seeing her, but I sure can give you some eggs. How many you need?” “The recipe said three,” Frances said. “Three it is,” said the girl. She bustled around the kitchen, trying to find the eggs. “Now where would Mrs. Prewett stick her eggs? You have any idea, girl?” “I think they’re in the top cupboard next to the stove,” said Frances. All the time helping Mrs. Prewett bake pies and bread had gotten her well acquainted with the kitchen. Sure enough, the eggs were right there. The girl, whose name Frances hadn’t learned yet, grabbed three and wrapped them in a towel. “You got a basket? Good, then the eggs won’t break.” She handed them to Frances, and then proceed to take a pie out of the oven. “You want a piece of cherry pie? Just popped it out of the oven.” Frances loved cherry pie, so of course she said yes. After all, Momma wouldn’t mind. They weren’t very busy today, only doing the regular chores and celebrating Mary’s birthday. These kinds of days were few and far between, so Frances took advantage of them the best she could. The two girls sat down at the kitchen table to eat their slices of pie. Frances didn’t know what to say to this girl who she had never met until five minutes ago. “Umm, I’m Frances. What’s your name?” “My name’s Katie. It be a pleasure to meet you. I’m takin’ care of Mrs. Prewett for awhile. She’s my mother’s aunt, you see, and I’m the only one that could be spared to come. The rest of the family’s busy takin’ care of the farm. Rebs ransacked it, so we have to replant all our field again.” “That’s terrible!” gasped Frances. She had heard about how the Rebels had marched through towns and farms, taking anything they wanted. It was horrible. “Yes, well, my brother’s off trying to stop them, so that might do some good. He even got a right proper uniform now. And badges too!” There was pride in Katie’s voice. “He’s a real soldier now. Doin’ some good in this world. Mr. Lincoln should be proud to have him as his soldier. Danny was a good boy.” “My poppa’s fighting too,” said Frances. “He signed up last year. We haven’t heard from him for six months since it takes so long for letters to get places. He used to try to write every three months.” “Wonder if Danny and your pa ever met each other? Danny always said that soldiers often had to get others to write their letters for them since they couldn’t read. You’re lucky that your pa can write.” “Grandfather taught him when he was a little boy,” said Frances. She glanced at the clock hanging over the fireplace. “I’ve been here for half an hour! Momma wants me to finish making that cake. It’s my little sister’s birthday today, so I’m trying to make a chocolate cake for her.” She stood up and took the basket of eggs. “It was nice meeting you. Maybe I’ll see you sometime. I often come over and help in the bakery.” “I reckon I’ll need help baking so many pies and cakes for people. Never did much of that, as my brother would eat them all before the rest of us got as much as a crumb.” She laughed and waved as Frances walked out the door. ********* This time, Frances didn’t walk slowly, she ran. She had to get home soon, or there wouldn’t be enough time to bake the cake before dinner. Her legs pounded the packed dirt, and she slowed a bit as she rounded a corner. Apparently, slowing down hadn’t been enough, and she ran smack dab into someone. “I’m so sorry, are you all right?” Both of them had fallen to the ground, and Frances was now trying to get up. She had no idea who she had run into, and hoped they had not gotten hurt. “Yes, I’m fine,” said the mystery person. They were also getting up. “Good,” said Frances. She turned to see who she had knocked over. It was the mayor. “Oh, I am so, so sorry, Mr. Hunt. I wasn’t watching where I was going, and I just sort of raced around the corner, and didn’t see you there, and well, you were just coming around the corner too, and-“ “Yes, that is quite all right,” he said, cutting her off. “Just be more careful next time. He turned back towards the town square. “Now let me listen to what this messenger has to say.” For the first time, Frances noticed the man standing on an old stump in the center of the green. He was shouting something to the quickly growing crowd. Frances moved closer to hear what he was saying. “We must prepare for them! They are getting neared, and are more powerful than anything we have ever seen! If we are to stand against them, we must do something!” the man shouted from his perch. He paused for a breathe, then continued his rant. “We cannot just sit here and wait for them to arrive! They will have no mercy on us! They are animals, not human beings!: Frances was very confuses. Who were they talking about? Was their town going to be destroyed by ferocious animals? She tugged on the Mayor’s jacket. He turned around. “What is going on? Who are they talking about?” “Isn’t it obvious? The Rebs are marching towards Gettysburg at this very moment. We are in danger!” The mayor was very disturbed, it seemed. Frances’ eyes widened. This was terrible, horrible. The Rebs were considered the most deadly army in the history of the world. Her little town could never stand against them. The man on the stump was wrong; they couldn’t fight back, they had to flee. That was all that could save them from Lee’s brutal forces.
Last edited by Gigi on Sat Mar 30, 2013 6:44 pm; edited 1 time in total | |
| | | Gigi Admin
Posts : 48 Join date : 2013-03-29 Location : Pennsylvania
| Subject: Re: Gettysburg Story. Does not have a title yet. Sat Mar 30, 2013 6:41 pm | |
| Chapter 2 - Spoiler:
“What can we do? They’re terrible people, and they’re coming here!” Frances was very distressed. “We’ll all die! And what about our farms? They’ll be destroyed!” “Hush, dear. It will be all right.” Momma patted Frances on the shoulder. “We’ll think of something.” “But what? The Rebels are a ferocious army! They have no pity on the Union!” Frances was getting frantic now. “There’s nothing we can do to stop them!” “The mayor will most likely call a town meeting tonight, and there they’ll decide what can be done,” said Momma. “Everything will be fine.” ********** “Scalloped potatoes! My favorite!” exclaimed Grandfather as they sat down to eat supper. There were lots of special dishes for Mary’s birthday. Mary probably didn’t realize it was an exciting day, but she was still pleased at her food. “Mine!” said Mary, reaching her chubby little baby hands across the table towards the potatoes in Grandfather’s hand. “Oh, no you don’t!” he said. “These are ALL for me!” Sometimes Grandfather acted like a child, Frances thought. She supposed that was one of the benefits of being an old man with three grandchildren to spoil. Not that she minded the spoiling though. Even though he lived in a separate house than them, he spent most of his time with his son’s family. A neighbor girl would sometimes help him clean his house, but since he wasn’t there very often, it didn’t get too messy. “Why don’t you say the blessing, Frank?” Momma asked. Frank’s hand stopped midair, the piece of bread he had been grabbing in it. There was a guilty look on his face, and he quickly put the bread down on his plate and nodded vigorously at Momma. “We thank you Lord for this food, and for the wonderful day we are having. We thank you for baby Mary, and that she is now three years old. We pray that we can hurry up and eat, because I am very hungry.” At this, a snort could be heard from Grandfather’s direction. Momma just tsked at Frank. “Umm, we pray that we have a wonderful day tomorrow, and Amen.” Frank quickly finished the prayer, and grabbed the bread. There were scalloped potatoes, of course, but Momma had also made stew, peas, and even some fresh bread. Frances had squeezed some lemons earlier in the day, and now there was lemonade to drink. The table had been set with the best dishes, and there was a hand embroidered tablecloth on it. The silver was polished to sheen, and the napkins were light blue. Momma had brought them from the plantation she had lived on as a girl. Momma’s family was from the south, and ever since the war had started, she hadn’t heard from them. For all she knew, her brothers could be fighting in the same battles as her husband. Her husband might have even killed them! It was a sad state this country was in, relatives killing each other. But now was not the time to mourn over the fate of the United States, or even about the approaching Rebels. There was still joy in the midst of all the trouble and despair, and people had to take advantage of those times. *********** Just like Momma has expected, the Mayor called a town meeting. It was to be held in the schoolhouse at seven o’clock. Since children were not allowed to go, they just played in the yard. Grandfather and Momma went, taking Mary with them, and Frank and Frances joined some of their friends for a game of tag. By the time all the children had been caught, the meeting was underway. They could hear the Mayor speaking loudly, but couldn’t quite catch exactly what he was saying. Children are naturally curious, and that curiosity often gets them in trouble. Frank was a very curious person, and tended to forget about past things that had got him in trouble. So of course, he wanted to hear what the Mayor was saying. He motioned for Frances to follow him, and without waiting for her, ducked behind the schoolhouse. Frances rolled her eyes. She had a pretty good idea what Frank wanted to do, and while she didn’t necessarily approve of it, she followed after him. She found him straining to look over the window sill. He had always been rather short, so he had to keep jumping up and down to see inside. He jumped when she tapped him on the shoulder. “Why don’t I stand on your back? That way you won’t need to constantly jump up and down.” Frank nodded and crouched on the dirt. Frances clambered onto his back, and carefully peered into the school. She could see the Mayor standing on the platform at the front of the room. The towns-people were nodding in agreement with whatever he was saying. One of the men, George Millson, raised his hand to say something. Frances tried to hear what they were saying, but she could only hear snatches of the conversation. “We must volunteer. Harrisburg – own regiment – three days.” This was no help at all. She jumped off Frank’s back, and landed in a heap on the ground. She brushed some dirt off her skirt and stood up. “Well? What did they say?” prodded Frank. He looked very eager to hear the news. “Not much,” said Frances. She sounded annoyed. “Not much that I could hear anyways. Just something about a regiment in Harrisburg that volunteered.” “That was helpful.” One of Frank’s specialties was being very sarcastic when he was annoyed. “What can we do now?” “Nothing that I can think of.” Frances grabbed Frank and went back to the front of the school. The rest of the children were just standing around, doing absolutely nothing. As the two walked up, everyone turned to them expectantly. “Well, what did you hear?” asked Aaron Smith. He was the son of the butcher, and known for being very impulsive. That was probably why he was Frank’s best friend. “Like I told Frank already, I couldn’t really hear. All I could hear was something about a regiment in Harrisburg that volunteered. You can all just ask your parents when you get home.” “Nothing?” piped up little Sammy Green. “Absolutely nothing?” He straightened his glasses that were perched on his nose, and jumped up on a log. Frank and Frances exchanged glanced. Not again. One of Sammy Green’s favorite things to do was to pretend that he was making a speech. He often would coerce other children into listening to them, no matter how boring his speeches were. It seemed that he was going to give a speech right now unless somebody stopped him. “Umm, why don’t we all play hide and seek?” shouted Frances. Hopefully that would distract everyone. “I’ll be the finder!” yelled Marcy Keeton. The other children scattered across the school yard as she began to count. Sammy gave a little sniff with his turned up nose, but hurried after some other little boys. It seemed the distraction had worked. ********** “I can’t believe the mayor would say I was too old!” Grandfather said. He and Momma, who was holding Mary, were coming down the schoolhouse steps. A stream of other people followed after them. “I mean, I fought in the War of 1812! How dare he say I wasn’t soldier material!” He seemed rather upset about something the mayor had told him. It wasn’t like him to be so angry. “What’s wrong?” asked Frances. She had to find out what had gone on in the meeting. “Did something bad happen?” “Bad? No, something terrible.” Grandfather snorted. “That mayor apparently thinks that I’m not ‘soldier material’. I happen to disagree. Did he fight in the War of 1812? No, I did. And he doesn’t think me competent enough to lead the Gettysburg Regiment!” He stopped his rant and his face became a less red than it had been a moment ago. “Gettysburg Regiment?” echoed Frank. “Does that mean I can fight now?” “I suppose so,” answered Grandfather. “We need all the help we can get.” Momma looked astonished to hear him say that. “I thought we’d already discussed this! Frank is not going to become a soldier. I will simply not allow it.” Frank gave a huff, but did not say anything else. When Momma made up her mind about something, there was no changing her mind. And it looked like she was pretty serious about this. “What did they actually talk about in the meeting?” Frances asked, reminding the rest of the family of the topic at hand. “What did they decide to do?” “Well, Gettysburg is going to make a regiment and send it to Harrisburg for training. They’ll have to be fast though, since the Rebs will be here in a week or so, maybe sooner,” explained Momma. “Most of the men are going to volunteer, but they still need a leader. That’s what your grandfather and the mayor were arguing about.” “Exactly! The mayor thinks that he should be the regiment leader, but he doesn’t know a lick about war!” exclaimed Grandfather excitedly. “I, on the other hand, am much more qualified for the position. After all, who fought in the War of 1812?” “You!” shouted Frank and Frances. “Yes, me! I know all about battle tactics, how to work a gun, and excellent maneuvers! Who else could do the job?” He looked at the children for an answer. “No one!” said the two in unison. “You’re right. That’s why we have to convince everyone that I’m the only one who can lead the regiment. “And just how are you going to do that?” said Momma. She had been quiet while Grandfather extolled his virtues, but now seemed quite interested in the conversation. “Are you going to walk door to door and give speeches?” “Just ask Sammy Green to do that,” Frank whispered to Frances. She giggled a little. Now that was an idea. If the mayor’s son was on their side, their goal would be simply handed to them. Mayor Green never refused his son’s requests unless he wanted a huge temper tantrum, so Grandfather would get his way for sure. “Maybe we can,” said Frank to everyone. “Some of us kids can talk to all the neighbors about it, and try to get them to choose Grandfather to lead the regiment.” “It will be like campaigning for the President!” exclaimed Frances. Grandfather clapped. “What a wonderful plan! You two can get started tomorrow. I’ll go to the square and talk to anyone I see there.” He waved goodbye to his grandchildren and daughter-in-law, then turned down the road towards his house. Mother just shook her head after him. “He is so impulsive. You children watch out for him, you hear?”
Last edited by Gigi on Sat Mar 30, 2013 6:48 pm; edited 1 time in total | |
| | | Gigi Admin
Posts : 48 Join date : 2013-03-29 Location : Pennsylvania
| Subject: Re: Gettysburg Story. Does not have a title yet. Sat Mar 30, 2013 6:41 pm | |
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| | | Gigi Admin
Posts : 48 Join date : 2013-03-29 Location : Pennsylvania
| Subject: Re: Gettysburg Story. Does not have a title yet. Sat Mar 30, 2013 6:42 pm | |
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| | | Gigi Admin
Posts : 48 Join date : 2013-03-29 Location : Pennsylvania
| Subject: Re: Gettysburg Story. Does not have a title yet. Sat Mar 30, 2013 6:45 pm | |
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| | | Gigi Admin
Posts : 48 Join date : 2013-03-29 Location : Pennsylvania
| Subject: Re: Gettysburg Story. Does not have a title yet. Sat Mar 30, 2013 6:45 pm | |
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| | | Gigi Admin
Posts : 48 Join date : 2013-03-29 Location : Pennsylvania
| Subject: Re: Gettysburg Story. Does not have a title yet. Sat Mar 30, 2013 6:46 pm | |
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| | | Gigi Admin
Posts : 48 Join date : 2013-03-29 Location : Pennsylvania
| Subject: Re: Gettysburg Story. Does not have a title yet. Sat Mar 30, 2013 6:46 pm | |
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| | | Gigi Admin
Posts : 48 Join date : 2013-03-29 Location : Pennsylvania
| Subject: Re: Gettysburg Story. Does not have a title yet. Sat Mar 30, 2013 6:47 pm | |
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| | | Gigi Admin
Posts : 48 Join date : 2013-03-29 Location : Pennsylvania
| Subject: Re: Gettysburg Story. Does not have a title yet. Sat Mar 30, 2013 6:47 pm | |
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