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attach the harness to the wagon. The mule brayed and kicked. It had been a while since the old girl had been hooked up to a harness, and she’d never liked it too much.
    “Come on, Celia girl, you’re going to ruin my wagon if you kick it too many more times.” Papa talked to the animal as though she was another one of his daughters.
    Margaret chuckled at the way her father dealt with the stubborn animal. “I think that’s her intent, Papa.”
    Elizabeth held tight to the mule’s harness. “Margaret, we really don’t need any of your remarks right now!”
    “Well, pardon me.” The tension between Margaret and her sister grew with every passing day.
    “All right, girls, that’s enough of your bickering.” Mama placed the supplies in the small cart.
    Elizabeth released her hold on Celia. “Papa, I hauled in the cotton sacks, and I hung them on the hooks like you asked. So can I go to the bay with you?”
    Margaret thought it a good idea. Anything to keep her from having to look at the horrible, bloody body of that Yankee would suit her just fine.
    Papa was about to answer when Mama interceded. “No, I need you inside the house to watch over your sister and brother. Who knows how long we’ll be gone.”
    Elizabeth’s mouth drew up tight. “That’s not fair, Mama! I did what Papa told me as fast as I could. Why does Margaret get to do everything, and I never get to do anything?”
    Margaret gave her sister a warning look. It was never a good idea to argue with Mama.
    Mama turned to Elizabeth. “And just what is it that Margaret gets to do that you don’t? Collect oysters? Haul water for laundry? Because if it’s more chores you want, I’ll be more than happy to assign them to you. Is that what you want?”
    Elizabeth hung her head. “No, ma’am.”
    “Mama, why don’t you let Elizabeth go? I’ll watch the little ones. Besides, I have no desire to take another look at that nasty, bloody Yankee.” Margaret attempted to break the tension.
    “Mama, can Margaret watch over June and Jeremiah instead of me?” Elizabeth looked at her. Tears coursed down her cheeks.
    Mama took the bottle of laudanum and placed it atop the bundle of bandages already in the wagon. “No…Margaret is the one who knows where the man is, and she is the one who’s going with us to the bay. Now, I told you what I need you to do. I suggest you get to it.”
    Elizabeth looked defeated. She turned to her father. “Papa?” Elizabeth whined and pleaded with outstretched arms, tears still flowing.
    “Do what your mama says, Liz.” Papa turned away and slapped Celia on the rump. “Come on, girl.”
    “We’ll be back as soon as we can.” Margaret spoke.
    Elizabeth lifted her apron and scrubbed the tears from her face. She stomped into the house without another word.
    Margaret ached for her rebellious sister.
    Elizabeth’s defiance had become a constant source of pain. Twice in one day she’d complained of unfair treatment. Mama would probably give her a lesson on what was fair and what was not. Margaret turned to follow Mama and Papa. They were already halfway up the trail. Gathering her skirt, she hurried along to catch up with them. A chill ran down her spine at the thought that the man might have a gun. What would happen if they arrived to find a detachment of Union soldiers had arrived to collect their dead? Why couldn’t Mama just leave well enough alone? Didn’t their family have ample problems already without running to the rescue of a Yankee sailor? As far as Margaret was concerned, the Confederates had already decided this sailor’s fate and it wasn’t their business to meddle in their affairs.
    The farther they went down the trail, the more Margaret wanted to run in the opposite direction. The image of the sailor’s body caused bile to rise in her throat, but then, his smoky blue eyes found their way into her imagination. How she longed for him to still be alive so she might have the chance to see his beautiful