Free The Union Quilters by Jennifer Chiaverini Page A

neighbors or strangers rather than her own kin. For his part, Abel provided an abundance of cheeses in every shipment of goods sent to the regiment, as if he harbored no ill will over his exclusion and was content to contribute to the army in this manner instead. The Union Quilters knew otherwise. Since the company had left the valley, Abel had grown increasingly outraged and resentful that he was not allowed to fight, and the strain of Constance’s utter inability to placate him was beginning to show.
    “It’s a grave injustice, Constance,” said Gerda, frowning as she returned her gaze to the letter. “Jonathan goes on to describe some occurrences of typhoid in the camp, but apparently no one in Company L has been afflicted.” A sigh of relief went up from the circle. “And now this: ‘Ever since we were attached to the 1st Brigade of the Army of the Potomac, we have anticipated forthcoming orders to depart Washington City and move further into Virginia to engage the enemy. For days rumors have abounded that we will strike camp soon. ’ ”
    “Oh, dear,” murmured Mary.
    “It was inevitable,” said Dorothea, though her heart plummeted. “They’ve been posted at the capital for months. With the coming of spring, the fighting has picked up, and they’re needed elsewhere.”
    Gerda nodded, eager to continue. ‘ “Last night speculation reached such a fevered pitch that many of the men convinced themselves that they would see fierce fighting by the next afternoon, and they began to celebrate their impending departure, and, regrettably, to fortify themselves with liquor courage. A few of them got hold of some rum and made themselves quite merry on it. I’m sorry to say that our own Rufus Barrows overindulged, tripped over a tent peg, and managed to knock out a tooth and sprain his ankle in the fall.’ ”
    Someone quickly choked off a laugh, and Prudence coughed into her handkerchief. “Our first casualty,” said Mrs. Barrows dryly, shaking her head. “I should have known it would be my husband, and rum the weapon. Does Jonathan mention my boys? They’re usually smart enough not to get caught up in their father’s carousing.”
    “I’m sorry. He doesn’t.” Gerda turned to the second page. “The next few paragraphs are . . . inconsequential, but he added a postscript : ‘A few lines more, written in haste: The rumors have proven true. We are striking camp and advancing to Manassas. Barrows cannot march on account of his ankle, and as he will remain behind in camp, he has promised to mail this for me. I will write more as soon as I am able.ʹʺ
    The room fell silent except for the rustling of paper as Gerda returned the letter to the envelope and slipped it into her pocket. Dorothea’s heart pounded, but she took a deep breath and asked, “Did Jonathan date his letter?”
    “March the ninth,” said Gerda.
    Dorothea felt a hand upon her shoulder and glanced up to find her mother smiling at her reassuringly. “It could be a while before we hear anything more,” said Lorena. “We can’t waste that time in worry. We must continue to work and pray, and hope for the best.”
    “You’re right.” Dorothea cleared her throat and inhaled deeply, and straightened her shoulders. “Our biggest challenge now will be figuring out where to send all the goods we’ve been collecting for the men.”
    “If the next letter from the company doesn’t say, I’m sure the Sanitary Commission will advise us,” said Lorena.
    Dorothea started, remembering the second letter she had meant to share. “I’ll ask when I respond to their letter,” she said, retrieving it from the fireplace mantel. “Apparently our fame as skilled quilters has spread beyond the Forty-ninth Pennsylvania throughout the Army of the Potomac. The secretary of the Sanitary Commission has written to us personally to ask us to provide quilts for a new military hospital in Washington City.”
    Her friends brightened and a murmur of