Free Widow of Gettysburg by Jocelyn Green

you had up to this point?”
    “I am still in the process of converting the farm’s purpose. I haven’t had any customers yet.”
    “Yet you need money in order to make the place a pleasant accommodation, do you not? Let’s see, you want to buy a piano, a billiard table, more beds, linens, washstands, basins and pitchers. Bureaus and writing desks would be ideal for each room, too. You can use my horses andwagon for the time being, but at some point you’ll want to buy a horse of your own, too. Not to mention the expense of repairing the damages caused last night. Am I right?”
    Out of nervous habit, Liberty reached for the ring that spun on her finger before crossing her arms instead.
My, how the list did go on.
At length, she nodded.
    “Done!” Amelia beamed and grasped Libbie’s hand. “Congratulations on your first customer!”
    “You mean—”
    “That’s right, my girl! If you won’t accept me as family, I’ll rest content as a paying customer. Would you accept one dollar per night?”
    Liberty gasped as she did the math in her head. Seven dollars a week! Of course, she’d need to use some of that money for more provisions if she would be feeding another mouth. And much of the funds should go toward obtaining a horse and purchasing furnishings for the rest of the rooms … Every room could have a theme, with the quilt as its centerpiece. She knew just what to do …
    “I can work, too,” Amelia added. “I’m still strong. Give me some chores, and I’ll see to them.”
    “I don’t suppose you would be willing to pluck some chickens, would you? I just so happen to have three dead hens and a rooster we need to make use of before they spoil.” She’d never admit it to Amelia, but she still couldn’t clean a bird without feeling sick to her stomach.
    Amelia nodded. “I make a delicious chicken pot pie, if you’ve got the vegetables.”
    “There are some onions, carrots, and beans in the garden that are ready for picking. You make dinner. I’ll work on cleaning some of yesterday’s mess. Would that arrangement be agreeable for you?”
    “Absolutely.”
    “Well then, let me show you to your room so you can freshen up first.” For the first time in a very long time, Liberty felt as young as she really was. “Welcome to Liberty Inn!”

 
    Gettysburg, Pennsylvania
    Saturday, June 27, 1863
     
    W hite hot pain reached up Bella’s neck and wrapped its fingers around her skull. After hours of listening for the blood-curdling Rebel yell, she had fallen asleep tightly curled inside an empty barrel in her cellar. The musty smell crawled inside her nose and pulled her out of her sleep well after sun up. Only when she timidly moved her muscles did numbness give way to cramping. She would have to take her time getting out of this barrel.
    THUD THUD THUD.
Bella froze. Someone was knocking on her door. Had the Rebels come to search her place at last? The ability to pray escaped her. Terror seized her. She bowed her head low and hugged her knees to her chest, darts of pain spiking across her shoulder blades. Even her toes curled under as her body tried to disappear.
    THUD THUD THUD.
Perspiration beaded at her hair line, rolled down her forehead and clung to the end of her nose before drippingonto her crumpled apron. In seconds, dampness spread beneath her armpits and across the small of her back.
    THUD THUD.
“Bella! Are you in there?” Shock replaced fear at hearing her own name being called. Her eyes popped open, though it was still pitch black in the barrel.
    “Bella! You in there, baby? It’s safe, you hear? Them Rebels ran off! You safe, baby!”
    Bella gasped at the sound of Aunt Hester, then found her voice after being silent for more than eighteen hours. “I’m here!” she shouted. “In the cellar! Wait!”
Oh, why in heaven’s name hadn’t Hester said who she was earlier?
Too relieved to be irritated for more than a moment, Bella unfolded her body and stumbled awkwardly out of the