Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12 At least the men had not hurt Birdie. She'd lost one of her little front teeth when she fell from the wagon. Her mouth was still bleeding a bit. But otherwise she was all right. And incredibly, she did not seem scared. "Don't worry, Thomas," Birdie whispered. "Our men are coming for us." Thomas didn't have the heart to tell her the truth: that they were on their own. "All right!" the burly man shouted. "Let's move out of here!" Thomas felt doomed.

He'd heard about the slave auctions, where they'd be lined up like animals. Buyers would check their teeth and their feet. There was little chance that he and Birdie would be sold to the same owner. He looked up at the sky, wishing, praying, searching for one last flicker of hope. And then, Boom! A rifle shot echoed through the forest, sending birds flapping wildly out of the trees and bushes. A familiar voice bellowed. "Drop your weapons!" It was Captain Campbell. Thomas's heart leaped as familiar faces appeared through the trees. The captain. Henry. Homer. Even Lester was there, though he was hobbling and in obvious pain.

There were at least fifty more Union soldiers with them. "We have you surrounded," the captain said. "We will shoot every one of you if you don't put your rifles down." Thomas couldn't imagine how they had managed to sneak into the woods. But they had, and now they had formed an armed circle around the rebels. The cavalrymen put down their rifles. Captain Campbell stepped forward. "We have not come here to do battle. We have not come to take prisoners. We have come for the children." The burly man stepped forward. "We didn't hurt them," he said. "We didn't lay a hand on them." Captain Campbell signaled to Henry, who headed for Thomas and Birdie. The tall man glared at him with narrow eyes.

And then, quick as a flash, he reached behind himself and grabbed something from his belt. His pistol! He aimed it at Henry. Boom! The tall man jerked back, dropped his weapon, and fell to the ground, clutching his leg. "Anyone else?" the captain shouted, lowering his smoking rifle. The rebels stood silent, their hands in the air. Henry grabbed the pistol from the dirt. He rushed over to the tall man, his eyes flashing with wild fury. He aimed the gun at the man's head. He stood for a moment, his hand steady, the pistol glinting in the sun. Henry looked like a different person, his eyes filled with fury … and even hate. But then he lowered his arm. "No," he said. He turned and hurled the pistol into the churning waters of the nearby stream, which

swept it away. Some of the men gasped; Thomas knew how prized those Confederate pistols were, and that some Union soldiers tried to capture them on the battlefields, to bring home as trophies. But not Henry. He strode over and cut Thomas and Birdie's ropes with his knife. Thomas picked up Birdie and held her tight. Her whole body trembled, and she buried her face in his neck. Henry wrapped a strong arm around Thomas's shoulder, and they walked slowly together toward the road. Thomas braced himself for more shots. But they made it to the road, and minutes later, the rest of the soldiers appeared. They'd captured all of the men's horses and their rifles. "Those rebs won't be bothering us again," Captain Campbell said.

The rest of the regiment was ahead, and now they'd have to move quickly to catch up. Thomas climbed into the supply wagon with Birdie; he was going to stick close to her from now on. Before long, she fell asleep on Thomas's shoulder. Henry and Captain Campbell walked alongside the wagon, their eyes scanning the woods, their rifles loaded and ready. Thomas kept a grip on Birdie. It was some time before he stopped shaking, before he could peel his eyes away from the hills. For a few minutes he even managed to sleep. But soon there was thundering in the distance, and great clouds of black and white smoke billowing in the sky. At first Thomas thought it was a rainstorm coming toward them. But no. "Cannons," Henry said. It was the Battle of Gettysburg.