Free Prairie Song by JODI THOMAS

starting to wonder if this house was a blessing or a curse Tobin left me with.”
    An hour later, Grayson found himself following Margaret along the plank sidewalks of a town still in its adolescence. There were signs of a city, but the people acted like small-town folks as they stared at him and Margaret as if they were the morning’s entertainment. Something told Grayson that no matter how many streets this town added or how fast these people bred, this place would always be a town and never a city like some he’d seen up north.
    Margaret shoved package after package into his arms until he could barely see to follow her. He watched her calculate her money after each purchase as she budgeted out what was needed. He wasn’t in the habit of shopping with a woman, but he could hardly tell her that. He simply followed and counted the number of stores to the barbershop pole that marked the end of Main Street.
    “Careful, Grayson,” Margaret whispered. He looked around the bags to see two Union soldiers coming toward him. They looked as though they’d spent the night heavy into drink and had been in foul moods since the sun rose.
    Margaret guided Grayson into the street to avoid the men.
    The taller of the two soldiers noticed her action and stumbled into the street in direct collision with her path. “What’s ‘a matter, lady,” he yelled. “Think you’re too good to walk on the sidewalk with a Yankee?”
    Margaret’s back straightened slightly, but she didn’t back down. She looked ahead as if the soldier wasn’t there. “Come on, Grayson, we have more shopping to complete.”
    The Yankee again stepped directly in her path. “Don’t like us, do you, Miss High-and-Mighty?” His words were slurred as he looked at his friend. “Here we saved the world for democracy and this is the thanks we get. This southern lady won’t even speak to us.”
    Margaret’s temper snapped. “I’ll speak to you, you drunken swine. First, I’ll have you know that Texas was a democracy before the war so you saved us from nothing. And second, I am too good to walk on the same sidewalk with drunken soldiers of any uniform so get out of my way before I’m forced to—”
    “Forced to what?” The drunk was trying to regain some of his pride. Her tongue was too sharp for his muddy mind, but he didn’t want to admit it. “I’m a Union soldier and I ain’t afraid of no woman.”
    Grayson had had enough. He shuffled the packages and stepped around Margaret. He’d seen soldiers like this before. All the idealistic young men had gone back to their families when the war ended, leaving many losers to assume occupation duty in the southern states. They were men with no family or ambition who were addicted to trouble. During the war they’d found plenty to keep them busy, but now excitement was in short supply. Men like these made him ashamed to be from the North. Grayson could think of nothing he’d rather do than flatten both men into the dirt.
    The soldier pulled his gun with lightning speed. “Take another step, reb, and you’ll be dead. I’ve killed rebs bigger than you.”
    Grayson was torn between putting these men in their place and destroying his cover. He’d have liked nothing better than to tell them he was an officer and have them both reported, but then he would have wasted the past two weeks and Margaret would never speak to him again.
    “Wait,” Margaret yelled as she turned on the soldier like an angry hen on a stray dog. “Leave this man alone. He doesn’t understand what you’re saying and he wasn’t even in the war.”
    The soldier lowered his gun. “Oh,” he mumbled as his face reddened. He glanced at his friend, who was touching his head with one finger, indicating Grayson was absent a brain. The friend stepped off the walk and into the street next to his drinking buddy. “Yeah, Sam, ain’t no sport in picking on the feebleminded. Come on, let’s go get another drink.”
    Margaret opened her mouth,