Free Fire Over Atlanta by Gilbert L. Morris

heart. He had seen him go through battles that put most men past their endurance—without even breathing hard.
    At the Holcomb house, Lori welcomed them, and Charlie came hurrying in from the yard where she had been feeding the chickens.
    Rosie made a point of walking over and shaking hands with Charlie. “Hello there, Charlie,” he said. “You’re lookin’ mighty fine.”
    “Hi, Rosie. I’m glad you came. You been doin’ any fightin’ with the Rebels?”
    “Oh, no,” he said. “They’re all on the run. I did hear that there was gonna be some fightin’ back in Tennessee where General Hood’s gone, but all wegot to do is set in Atlanta here and be sure the Rebels don’t come back.”
    “I got some buttermilk, Rosie. Come on, and I’ll get it for you.”
    “That sounds good. Buttermilk’s good for an upset stomach.”
    Charlie looked at the tall soldier. “Is your stomach upset?”
    “Well, it ain’t
now
, but it might be. But if I drink that buttermilk, it won’t be, will it now?”
    He followed her into the kitchen, where Charlie poured him a tall glass of buttermilk and watched him drink it with relish. Then he pulled a medicine bottle out of his pocket and said, “Look at that. I got me some new heart medicine.”
    “I didn’t know anything was wrong with your heart. You sure don’t look like it. You’re such a big, fine-lookin’, strappin’ fella.”
    Rosie stared at her with astonishment. He knew that in fact he was tall, gangly, and not at all handsome. “Been a long time since someone said that I was fine-lookin’. I guess not since my mama said it back when I was a baby sittin’ in the cotton row.” He drank the last of the buttermilk and grinned. “Maybe they got some medicine to make you good-lookin’.”
    “You look good enough to me. I sure like tall, lanky fellas. They look so much better than the little, short, stubby ones.”
    “Well, I’m tall enough, I reckon.” He studied her, admiring the rosiness of her cheeks. She had very attractive features too. Her lips were red, and her eyes were large and widely spaced. He admired especially the unusual, curly brown hair. “What have you been doin’ with yourself, Charlie?” he asked.
    Soon they were deep in conversation at the kitchen table. Rosie, who was rather good at getting information out of people, found out many things about this young woman. Finally he said, “I might come callin’ on you sometime.”
    “Callin’ on me? Why, you’re here now.”
    “No, I mean like a young man callin’ on a young lady. I ain’t ever done much of that, but I guess I could get into practice. Maybe you could put on a dress, and we could go to downtown and let ’em see what we look like.”
    Charlie smiled. “I don’t know about the dress. I’ve only got one, and I haven’t had it on for two years.”
    “You haven’t had on a dress for two years?”
    “No, been pretty busy with the farm. Oh, I mean except for church. Course, I wear it to church every time I go.”
    Rosie thought that most young women would not have been satisfied with one dress, but he was learning things about Charlie, and he liked what he saw.
    Later on, Drake and Lori and Rosie and Charlie went into the sitting room and looked at old pictures in Mrs. Holcomb’s family album. As usual, such pictures were amusing, and the four of them enjoyed them very much. Afterward, Lori said, “How about some music?”
    “That would be mighty fine,” Rosie said with enthusiasm. “Drake, play us a tune on that fiddle over there.”
    Drake picked up the violin from the table. He fingered it for a moment, tuned it, then began playing a lively song.
    “Why, I know that,” Charlie said. “We sing it all the time around Macon.”
    “Let’s hear you sing it,” Rosie said.
    At once Charlie began singing a folk song that was popular all over the South. She had a clear, powerful, and very sweet voice.
    When she finished, Lori said, “Charlie, you have a beautiful