Free Last Ghost at Gettysburg by Paul Ferrante Page B

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visible in the distance. It all looked so serene, so...normal.
    Do I tell her? And if I do, how’s she gonna
react? Will she understand? Or think I’m some kinda nutcase?
    The last thing he wanted to do with this girl
was seem frightened, or even worse, immature. Uncool.
    “This is a nice stretch coming up,” said
LouAnne. “We’re gonna follow this to a loop where there’s the
Eternal Light Peace Memorial at the top. Then we’ll take it on
back. Sound good?”
    “Fine. Lead the way.”
    They glided through the last mile, T.J.
recognizing a minimal improvement in his stamina.
    “What’cha got on tap today, Cuz?” LouAnne
huffed as they climbed a hill.
    “Bus tour, I think.”
    “Jeez, T.J., I never thought you’d get into
it like you have. I mean, you’re taking tours, hitting all the
museums. Dad said you were all over it yesterday.”
    “Well, you’ve gotta admit, there isn’t much
else to do here except watch TV. I can help your mom with the minor
chores, but that only kills a couple hours. But, hey, I don’t mind.
I’m learning a lot.”
    “Well, as long as you’re not totally bored. I
just feel bad I’m working all the time.”
    “Hey, you gotta do what you gotta do. Tell
you what. I’ll come by the Charney House tonight and keep you
company.”
    “Sounds great.” They pulled up in the front
yard and immediately began their post stretch. The day was again
drenchingly humid, the trees barely stirring. LouAnne assumed a
hurdler’s position and slowly slid forward, face down, until she
had grabbed her front foot with both hands. She held it for
fifteen seconds then gracefully switched sides. The morning sun
glinted off the platinum highlights in her hair. Could she possibly
be more beautiful?
    That afternoon he climbed aboard a
double-decked tour bus and moved to an inconspicuous railing seat
near the rear. Though this would not be the more intimate
ranger-led tour he’d skipped the previous day, it would serve as
the initial excursion. Since he was a single he’d had no problem
just walking on today, but these busses booked up fast. A friendly,
middle-aged gent in a white golf shirt manned the microphone and
began his spiel as the bus pulled out of the parking lot and
cruised toward the first point of interest on the ninety-minute
ride.
    T.J. settled back, making note not only of
the sites and monuments pointed out by the guide, who’d obviously
done this thousands of times, but of any places on the vast
battlefield where a horseman could possibly hide. There were old,
standing barns here and there, the buildings of Gettysburg College,
the Seminary, the numerous farms in the surrounding area. The
soldier could be anywhere.
    That is, if “he” was an actual human being.
But what if he wasn’t? What if T.J. had stumbled upon a genuine
ghost? How could he possibly prove this had happened? Well, he’d
have to go back. At night. But not alone. No way, José. He’d
have to tell his cousin. If he broke it to her the right way, she’d
understand. Probably. But he couldn’t tell Uncle Mike. Not yet.
Because his uncle might react badly, and not just yelling at T.J.
for being in the woods at night. Maybe “Maddog Mike” would want to
go after the ghost. Not good, because as tough as Mike Darcy was,
he was no match for a malevolent being packing what appeared to be
a very large, mean-looking horse pistol, which T.J. sensed he’d
used before.
    He’d tell LouAnne tonight at the restaurant.
It was the only way to go. Together they’d figure it out.
    As the tour guide droned on, T.J. regarded a
little girl across the aisle from him eating a chocolate cone, the
sweet goop dripping all over her hand and shirt as she struggled to
keep up with the rapidly melting ice cream. She caught him smiling
at her and frowned. “It’s not funny,” she grumbled. But nothing was
going to dismay T.J. He had a plan.
    Thus, he kept smiling throughout Aunt Terri’s
spaghetti and meatballs dinner, until Uncle