Free Two Girls of Gettysburg by Lisa Klein

into the shop. Nor had the Baumanns contracted with us since before Papa left for the war. I recalled the day Mr. Schmidt berated Amos and refused to pay for what he said was rancid pork.
“Then Frieda had the gall to say, ‘Some people in this town take this Negro-loving business too far.’”
I drew in my breath. “What did you say to that?”
“I told them that Amos was like a member of our family, and I would not suffer their vile insults any longer. Then I walked out. Liddy Pierpont was there and she looked like a tornado about to strike.Heaven knows what she said after I left, but I hope it flattened Frieda like a hot iron.”
“Mama, I’m so proud of you,” I said. But I was wondering how many other customers had stopped doing business with us because of their prejudice against Amos.
Suddenly Mama began to cry. “If only Albert were here! Lizzie, whatever shall we do now?”
“We’ll do what’s right, Mama,” I said, sounding braver than I felt.
A few days later, I asked Martin to come with me to Mr. Schmidt’s tavern.
“What is our business with Mr. Schmidt today?” he asked when he brought the cart around. It pleased me the way he said “our business” as if he were proud to be working with us.
“He owes us money,” I said. “I just need you to stand behind me while I do the talking.”
“You don’t want me to rough him up?” Martin said with a hint of a smile.
“Not unless he won’t pay,” I replied with a laugh. But I was nervous. I had no idea what I would say to Mr. Schmidt. When I came face-to-face with him, however, I found the words. I told him that we had, as always, the finest-quality meats in Gettysburg, expertly prepared by Mr. Amos Whitman, and that if he wished to continue receiving them, we expected a full settlement of his account. Then I handed him an invoice.
Mr. Schmidt looked surprised. He turned to Martin, saying, “Eh, son?”
Martin hooked his thumbs in his trouser pockets and nodded in my direction, indicating that Mr. Schmidt should address himself to me. Old Schmidt harrumphed and stomped away, coming back in a few minutes with a bank draft for twenty-two dollars.
With shaking fingers, I wrote out a receipt. I felt like I’d won a battle without even firing a gun.
“That was well done,” Martin said when we had left the tavern behind. His few words were enough to seal my small victory.

I soon discovered that the prejudices of Mr. Schmidt and Frieda Baumann were not lost on Amos. One spring night he asked Mama to let him make the trip to South Carolina to free Grace.
“You don’t need my permission, Amos,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am, but I wouldn’t leave if I thought you couldn’t manage. The livestock pens are all in good order, an’ the smokehouse is full. Martin’s a good worker; he’ll help you while I’m away.”
Mama nodded. “If we need any slaughtering done, we can ask Matthias Schupp. And when you return, Amos, your job will be here waiting for you.”
There was a long silence, while the sound of spring peepers filled the night air.
“P’raps it would be best, given what folks in town is sayin’, if I … if Grace an’ I didn’t come back. If we went somewheres else.”
A cry of protest escaped me.
Mama said, in brief but certain words, “Amos, I am not one to heed the opinions of my ignorant neighbors.”
Amos merely nodded and withdrew a map from his pocket and spread it on the table. With his finger he showed us the way he aimed to take.
“I don’t think that’s wise,” said Mama. “I’ve heard that both armies are gathered here in northern Virginia. Richmond may soon be under attack.” Using a pencil, she sketched a route that would take Amos westward, then south through the Shenandoah Valley to the gap in themountains near Roanoke. “You must keep clear of the armies around Richmond,” she cautioned.
Looking at the map, I saw that Amos would travel through Virginia and North Carolina and well into South Carolina before