Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16 NOVEMBER 8, 1863 BURLINGTON, VERMONT Thomas sat at a desk next to Birdie, carefully writing out his letters. All around the schoolroom, children sat quietly as their pretty teacher watched over them. Every so often she came to Thomas's desk. "Fine work, Thomas," said Miss Ashford — Mary. Henry's sweetheart. Thomas nodded, hoping he didn't look too proud. It had been five months since they arrived, and his handwriting was looking better. He

practiced for hours every night, sitting at Henry's old desk as Mr. and Mrs. Green sat nearby and read. Henry's parents still weren't sleeping much, and they seemed glad to have a reason to keep their candles burning into the night. "Look at mine, Miss Ashford!" Birdie said, holding up her paper, covered with wobbly letters. Miss Ashford smiled at Birdie, then put her finger in front of her lip with a gentle shush. Birdie loved school more than anyone, but she kept forgetting she wasn't the only student. At lunchtime Thomas and Birdie sat under a tree. It was getting colder, and the sky was gray. Soon winter would come. Mrs. Green had already sewn three wool dresses for Birdie, and two new pairs of trousers for Thomas. Thomas ate his lunch and looked around the schoolyard. The air smelled like apples. Just like Henry had said. Thomas swallowed hard, and glanced at Birdie. She didn't have to ask him why he was sad.

No, Henry hadn't made it. But they had come here to Vermont, like he told them to, and his family had welcomed them, just like he promised they would. The whole town did. Thomas had been shocked to see the stacks of letters Henry had written, pages filled with stories about Thomas and Birdie. "What a gift to have you here with us," Mrs. Green had said when they first arrived. "A gift from Henry." It was Clem who'd brought them here, on the train, one month after Gettysburg. During that long ride Clem had told them every detail of what had happened to him after he was taken away from Mr. Knox's. The plantation in Mississippi had been a brutal place, where slaves were worked to the bone picking cotton in the blistering sun. After a year, Clem escaped. He'd traveled more than six hundred miles on his own, dodging snakes and bears and slave

catchers. "I was coming to get you both," he said. "I wanted us to go north together." But in North Carolina, he was caught by a band of rebel soldiers, taken just like Birdie. They got him halfway back to Mississippi when he was freed by a band of teamsters, who attacked the rebel camp at night and helped Clem and four other men escape. Clem went to work with them, running wagon trains filled with supplies. After Gettysburg, Clem had loved being in Vermont with Thomas, Birdie, and Mr. and Mrs. Green. But he could only stay one week before he headed back down south. Mr. and Mrs. Green wanted him to stay longer, but Clem had a new plan: to be a soldier for the North. He had already signed up to be in one of the first black regiments of the Union army. "I'll be back here," Clem had said as he'd hugged them all good-bye. "I promise I'll be back

when it's all done." He wrote to them almost every day now, and Thomas would sit for hours sounding out every word. He could hear Clem's voice in his mind, describing the battles, the people he met, his plans for after the war. "We'll be together," he wrote. "Can you picture it?" And Thomas could. His mind was filled with bright pictures now. At first, most of the pictures had appeared in his nightmares: the wagon in flames, the vultures that had circled above the battlefield as he lay wounded, the glowing red eyes of the rebel who shot him. But there were happier pictures, too: the memories of Birdie and Clem standing by his bed in the hospital tent, of Mr. and Mrs. Green waiting for them at the train station. And now, in the schoolyard, he closed his eyes, and he saw the newest pictures, the pictures of his

hopes: that this terrible war would end; that Clem would be back with them soon; that they would be here, together and free. His eyes were still closed when he felt something cold on his cheeks. He looked up and saw white flakes drifting in the air. "Thomas!" Birdie cried. "It's snow!" Thomas put his arms around his little sister. And together they watched the icy flowers fall from the sky.