That morning seemed to rush by and before Sara knew it, it was passed noon. Outside some of the soldiers were packing up their horses and getting ready to move on, but Sara knew that there was no way the seriously wounded could leave. She had cleared her things from her room to make her bed free and John did the same. The women would sleep in the big bed together while John and Uncle Jim made a pallet downstairs. Some of the other men took her new friend, Gilbert, and placed him in her bed and another man in John's.
"I declare," Aunt Catherine sighed when everyone was settled. "this is house is packed full!"
Sara sighed. "Well, I suppose we better prepare something to eat," she said, wiping her hands on her apron.
Uncle Jim went and picked out the worst laying hen and brought it in the Aunt Catherine and Sara. Sara did hate to see the poor chickens get killed, she always loved on them so. Uncle Jim said it was useless to love a creature that was just going to get fat and end up on the table, but Sara loved them still.
"I'm thankful that I put a pot of beans on to soak last night," Aunt Catherine said taking the dead chicken and dressing it. The feathers they plucked they would save and stuff pillows.
"Sara, go and see if you can find any good potatoes. We can try and make them mashed.," Aunt Catherine said when she slid the dressed chicken into the cook stove.
Outside the sun was bright, and Sara was glad to be out of the kitchen that still smelled like blood. All around her men were resting themselves and watering their horses. There was no way that one measly chicken could feed them all.
"Afternoon miss," a man said, tipping his cap to her.
Sara ignored him and dug around in the garden for potatoes. She found an apron full, but most of the others were rotted. When she had all that she could find she stood and went back towards the house. On the way she saw Uncle Jim talking to the General.
"What is Uncle Jim talking to the General about?" she asked once she got inside.
Aunt Catherine shook her head. "We'll find out once he gets back in," she said.
Sara emptied her apron onto the table and turned to grab one of the smaller knives. Aunt Catherine turned to look at the table and sighed.
"I have another table cloth in my trunk, but my white one had belonged to my mother," she said.
The white table cloth had been on the table ever since she had moved in. They had to use it to make bandages for some of the men. It would have been burned anyway because it had been too stained with blood.
Aunt Catherine carefully took the small knife from Sara. "Go see if the men upstairs need anything," she said.
Sara left the table and went first to the man who occupied John's room. This man was younger and was fast asleep. Sara knew it was best not to wake him, so she turned to her room, the room that Gilbert had been brought to. She creaked the door open and saw that he was awake. The expression he wore told her he was in pain.
"Do you need anything?" she asked.
Through his pain he chuckled. "A bottle of whiskey if you can spare it," he said.
Sara stepped into her room and closed the door. "My Uncle has one. Do you want me to bring it to you? I know it helps the pain," she said.
Gilbert didn't answer, so she decided to bring it anyway. She slipped out of the room, down the stairs and quietly past Aunt Catherine. She opened the pantry door and silently lifted the door to the cellar. The cellar was always cold and dark, and a perfect place to store preserves and salt pork. She descended the stairs and on the shelf beside the preserves, was Uncle Jim's bottle of whiskey. She pulled it down and tried to slip it into her apron pocket, but the long neck stood out and she would surely be seen with it.
"This won't do," she said, racking her brain for another idea.
She took the bottle and unbuttoned the front of her dress. She hurriedly slipped the bottle inside. The cool bottle felt odd against her skin, but she quickly refastened her dress and stole up the steps. Inside her dress, the bottle sloshed around and she wondered if anybody could hear the sloshing sound.
"What on earth were you doing in the cellar?" Aunt Catherine asked.
"Nothing," Sara said quickly, folding her arms over her chest. "I was checking for extra blankets."
Aunt Catherine looked at her skeptically. "We keep some in our trunk, Sara. You know that," she said.
Sara shrugged. "I lost my track of thought," she said, hurrying back up the stairs.
Outside her bedroom door she unbuttoned the top part of her dress, while keeping an eye out, and pulled out the bottle of whiskey. She fixed her clothes and opened the door back up.
"I have something that will help you," she said, showing him the bottle of whiskey.
Gilbert opened one eye and starred at the bottle. "I know it's not really appropriate to drink around women, but if you'll excuse me," he said, taking the bottle and gulping down a generous amount.
Sara shook her head. "Aunt Catherine gave me some when I had a toothache once. Pain medicine is expensive," she said.
He re-corked the bottle and smiled at her. "Your aunt and uncle are generous people," he said.
Sara nodded. "They took me in. I don't know where I be without them," she said.
"What happened to your folks?" he asked.
Sara sighed. "I don't like to talk about it," she said more sternly than she had intended.
"Sorry," Gilbert said, uncorking the bottle. "I just thought we had a good conversation going."
"Well, that topic is on a list of things we will never discuss," she said.
Gilbert nodded. "So what kind of things do you like talk about?" he asked.
"I like to talk about all kinds of things. The weather, books, other places and such. I plan to go to school at Yale," she said proudly.
Gilbert raised his eyebrows and nodded. "I went to Harvard myself. Not many women value education. I think it's of great importance," he said almost as proudly as Sara had.
"Harvard! What is you're profession?" she asked with excitement.
"I teach science. What do you want to do?" he asked as is he were genuinely interested.
Sara shrugged. "I like science too, but I'm not too sure. I am not sure I will do anything like that if this war doesn't end," she said.
"But just imagine afterward," Gilbert said. "After all of this is over we will be Americans and not colonists."
Sara wish she could see freedom the way that her new friend did. To her nothing was worth this much struggle and sacrifice, though she didn't want to tell him so.
Sara shrugged. "I have to get back and help with the cooking. It was nice talking to you," she said as she stood.
Gilbert nodded to her. "I hope I can talk to you again, miss," he said, laying back down.
Sara smiled as she opened the door. "My name is Sara," she said.
~~O~~
Later on, as Sara was mashing the potatoes, Aunt Catherine looked at her with suspicion. Sara tried not to feel her watchful eye on her as she worked.
"Why were you up there so long this afternoon?" she asked.
"Up where?" Sara asked innocently.
Aunt Catherine's lips made a thin line. "Upstairs with the soldiers. It isn't proper for a young lady to diddle-daddle about like that," she said.
"We were just talking," Sara answered.
She got up and set the bowl of mashed potatoes on the stove and wiped her hands on her apron. She didn't have anything to worry about. After all they were just talking.
"Talking? May I ask what on earth about?" her aunt asked.
Sara busied herself with the hem of her apron. "Oh, just college and things. He says he is very appreciative of staying here," Sara said.
Aunt Catherine sighed. "Sara, it is going to be different around here for a while. The other men are moving on, but the ones that are seriously wounded will stay here and move on later. Be mindful of yourself around these men," she said.
"What do you mean? How many men are staying?" Sara asked.
"About ten so far. Don't be like that Sara, it's unchristian to be stingy," Aunt Catherine said, pulling the chicken out of the oven and breathing in the smell.
"Where are they going to sleep? The barn!" Sara said.
Aunt Catherine looked stern. "You better not let you're uncle hear you talking like that. Honestly, a woman your age should understand things by now," she said.
To busy herself, Sara turned to set the table. She always loved the plates that Aunt Catherine had. They were white with tiny green leaves etched onto the edges. If she ever married, she intended to ask her husband to buy her a collection of serving-ware just like it. Once as a young girl, she accidentally dropped a saucer. She screamed out loud when it happened and cried for hours. Aunt Catherine, who had always been sweet and kind to her, seemed more concerned that Sara had hurt herself and not about the broken saucer.
"Whew!" Uncle Jim said as he opened the door. "It's gettin' cold!"
Aunt Catherine set the chicken on the table and sighed. "I suppose you better get extra quilts down for you and Johnny," she said.
As if he heard his name John came in and took his place next to Sara. Uncle Jim bowed his head and blessed the food.
"Dear Lord, please bless this food and keep us safe. Watch over our guests as they sleep. Amen," he prayed.
"Amen," everyone said.
Uncle Jim filled everyone's plate in turn and handed one extra to Sara. "Take this to Captain Gilbert. He is the one in your room," he said.
Sara nodded and took the plate. She just hoped that he hadn't drunk himself into a stupor on Uncle Jim's whiskey. When she reached the door she rapped on it slightly. She thought it was funny that she was knocking on her own bedroom door.
"Come in please," she heard Gilbert say.
Sara creaked the door open and stuck her head in. "I brought you something to eat," she said, showing him the plate.
Gilbert smiled at this. " It's been a long time since I've had a good home cooked meal," he said, taking the plate that Sara offered to him.
Sara put on her best smile and nodded. "Well, I hope you enjoy it," she said.
"Can I ask you something?" he asked.
Sara turned to look at him. Inside she just wanted him to be quiet and eat. She wanted to leave so she could get back to her own meal.
"Do you think someone would mind if I read one of those books?" he asked, pointing to a stack of books that Sara read religiously.
"I don't mind. They belong to me," she said.
Gilbert smiled. "I saw a book of poems and I figured a bit of reading would help keep my mind from the pain," he said.
Sara shook her head. "You're welcome to. I have the book I'm reading now put away. I'm reading Macbeth by Sir William Shakespeare," she said.
Gilbert nodded and scratched his beard. "I see you like mystery. I prefer Hamlet, a mystery all in it's own," he said.
"Well, the witches are intriguing. And then there is the guilt that Lady Macbeth had," she said.
"I'm glad you appreciate good literature," he said.
Sara looked back. "I have to go. Good night," she said.
As she left the room Sara couldn't help but be fond of Gilbert, even though he was a solider.