Free My Vicksburg by Ann Rinaldi Page A

o'clock respite from shelling. Landon will likely be in Pa's surgery then. It's when people come. All right?"
    "He'll punish you when he finds out."
    "He won't find out. The lie is that you left on your own. You just picked up and skedaddled. I know how to
lie, don't worry. I have to go now. Get plenty of rest and try to eat good between now and then."
    He was perplexed, taken with the audacity of it. For one of Lee's officer's, I thought, he was powerful innocent. He must have come reluctantly to new plans.
    I left.

Chapter Twelve
    I had a little scare late that afternoon when Landon called me aside and asked me why I had spent so much time with Robert after lunch.
    The look of surprise on my face was real. How did he know? Had Mama told him?
    "I hope you're not getting overfriendly with him," he cautioned.
    "What is that supposed to mean?"
    "I think you know."
    "Well, damn."
    "Don't use foul language with me."
    And there he was, in an instant, up on his high horse. And there is nothing you can do about it when Landon gets up on his high horse, except wait until he is ready to get down.
    "You were the one who said we were supposed to make him feel at home."
    "His spirits are low, Claire Louise. And with good reason. He misses home. He doesn't know what's coming next. He's like a man drowning. He'll accept any rope
thrown to him. Right now I'm that rope. Don't take it away from him."
    Whatever that meant, it was an order as if it had come straight down from General Grant. And the look in Landon's eyes was the seal on the order. I nodded and we parted.

    Maybe, I thought,
maybe I should do it tonight.
I allowed the idea to tantalize me until I could stand it no more. And then, with no other purpose in mind, with the eight p.m. reprieve in the shelling, and with Mama's permission, I walked over to our house.
    To my surprise the place was quiet in the evening of a late June day. With no shelling I could hear the birds, the cicadas, and, in the distance, the tolling of a church bell. It all sounded so nice. The chickens in the yard clucked to me. I was surprised. Did we still have chickens? Then I heard movement and voices from the barn.
    "She just come flyin' in, Massa Landon," Andy was saying, "stirrups aflappin', reins jumpin', just as pretty as you please, and then just as she gets here, I come out the back door an' she sees me and neighs and comes over and she says hello."
    "What time was that?" my brother asked.
    "Couple hours ago, suh. I give her food and water and she happy as a pig in mud. Doan seem to mind the shellin', suh. I guess she used to it."
    I stood in the barn door adjusting my eyes to the dimness inside.
    Sure enough there was Jewel. My horse, come home!
    "Jewel!" I near screamed it, startling both Landon and Andy. Both turned and stepped aside as I ran forward to the front of the stall and reached up and hugged her. She knew me, of course. She whinnied and nuzzled me and I hugged her around the neck for a long time. "Oh, Jewel, you're home."
    "Did no one come looking for her?" Landon was asking.
    "No, suh. Nobody. I think she jus' skedaddled from wherever she wuz and come back to her own barn. And them Yankees, excuse me, suh, but them Yankees too dumb to know where that is."
    Landon tried to control a smile. And then I saw she was wearing a Yankee saddle and blanket. And so I went around and into the stall and unfastened the saddle, without saying a word. And I took off the blanket. Landon and Andy watched me. Everything was all right until I fetched one of our own blankets and saddles and put them on her.
    "What do you think you're about?" Landon asked.
    I didn't answer.
    "Take that off. She isn't to be ridden for a while. Give her a rest."
    I ignored him. I intended, you see, to have her ready for whenever I took Robert down to the stream. It wasn't a long way, but I might have to take him well beyond.
    "Claire Louise, do as I say."
    More ignoring on my part. After all she was my horse,
given to me by Pa,