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her injured sister. Tiny hands gripped her hips. “Jer’miah, you get down off her right this instant!”
    Jeremiah buried his face in Margaret’s chest at June’s scolding.
    Mama pursed her lips. “Let him be, June. He’s worried about Margaret, and it’s time for his nap.” Mama rummaged around in the cabinet where their meager medical supplies were kept. The roll of gauze was almost gone. Between the four kids and Papa, Mama had doctored more scrapes and cuts than should be allowed.
    Mama took down the bottle of laudanum and slipped it into her apron pocket.
    “The cut isn’t that bad. I don’t need the laudanum.”
    Mama dipped the rag into the water and then washed blood and sand from the jagged wound.
    Margaret pressed her baby brother to her chest and winced at the pain.
    “I know, Margaret. It’s not for you. Now come with me into the bedroom so I can see what we have in the rag basket.” Mama turned to June, who watched with great interest. “Young lady, your papa told you to do something. Now you’d better get to it.”
    “Oops…I forgot.” June’s eyes widened and she ran from the room.
    Margaret followed Mama into the bedroom. She held tight to Jeremiah with her good arm and kept the injured arm close to her chest. Mama sat in front of the rag basket and Margaret sat on the floor beside her.
    Jeremiah crawled out of her lap and laid his head on Mama’s legs. He rubbed his eyes while chanting the name he called her, “Ma, Ma, Ma, Ma.” Finally, he slept.
    Mama firmly tied strips of a discarded pillowcase around her arm. When the wound was properly covered, she went to work tearing rags into bandages, handing some to Margaret too. It goaded her to think the precious strips of cloth would soon be used to doctor the Yankee sailor.
    “So how bad did he look?” Mama’s voice was soft as she glanced at Jeremiah.
    Margaret squinted at the memory of what she’d seen. “He looked pretty bad to me, all bloody and shot up.”
    Little June came into the room and wiped her brow. “Whew, that rifle is mighty heavy.” She brushed off her hands on her skirt. “Can I go see the Yankee, Mama?”
    Mama tilted her head to look at her youngest daughter. “No, I need you to stay here with Jeremiah while I go with Papa and Margaret to see what we can do.”
    “But, Mama, I ain’t never seen no Yankee before.” The little girl whined and puffed out her bottom lip.
    “Oh, my goodness, is that proper English, young lady?”
    “No, ma’am.”
    “Now say it the right way.”
    Margaret turned away so June wouldn’t see her smile.
    June frowned and crossed her arms. “OK. I have never seen a Yankee before.” Her arms dropped down to her sides as she jutted her chin out. “Mama, why am I the only one in this house who has to use proper English?”
    “Every one of my children is taught proper English…it’s up to them to use it. And thank you. That was much better,” Mama said.
    Margaret made eye contact with Mama, knowing she was probably fighting back a smile too.
    June’s eyes grew wide. “So can I go? I really want to see what he looks like, Mama!”
    “Not this time. Stay here and keep an eye on Jeremiah until Elizabeth finishes her chores. Besides, you’ll probably be seeing him before you know it.”
    Mama can’t really be thinking about bringing him here! Margaret ripped the old sheet into strips. The ragged fabric would make fine bandages… even if they might be used on that stinking Yankee.
    June plopped down beside her sleeping brother. “Dumb ol’ baby.”
    Mama took a quilt from the bed and spread it over Jeremiah. “Now that will be enough of that, young lady, you hear me?”
    “Yes, ma’am.” June lay on the floor next to her brother.
    “We’ll send Elizabeth in directly. Come on, Margaret. If he’s as bad as you say, then we better hurry.”
    Margaret helped gather the scraps of cloth and then followed Mama outside.
    ~*~
    Margaret watched Papa and Elizabeth attempt to