You Stole My Pigeons

. my milkingstool is there and my cloak for the frosty mornings of care takingour beasts.Ducking my head to step inside the portal... eyes adjusting to thedarkness the cool air soothing my flushed cheeks... my breast heavingfrom the excitement of this moment I turn and face you... SIMONAs we run with all speed to our dark sanctuary... I glance over toward the smithy shoppe... your father is still workingthe bellows and anvil, so I know his task is not yet half finished... thisfrees my mind to pursue you... your frock, wafting in the hot sun, is practically dry by the time we reach the barn, and, ducking behindyou, I hold your hips as if to not be lost in this unfamiliar hideaway... I, too, have a moment to adjust mine eyes to the darkness of the barn... faintsmells of the winter inhabitants, clearer aromas of the fields andflowers outside, fill my nose as full as the cook pot had yet momentsbefore... when I can once again see you clearly, the feature that standsmost prominent in your. Ma had an adopted daughter named Rachael, who was six years older than me. Rachael was married to a brakeman on the Georgia Southern Railroad. Rachael and her husband lived over in Cataula, about ten miles away. They lived in Cataula because the railroad went through there and Rachael's husband could jump on and off the train when it slowed down to cross the Mulberry Creek Bridge. Ma had been a schoolteacher once, so my brothers, Rachael and I received a good education at home.In the spring of 1861, after helping my pa with spring planting, I snuck away from home to join General Lee's Army. I was spurred to action when the treacherous Federals attacked Virginia to impose their tyranny on the freedom loving people of the Confederacy. It was the first time I'd ever disobeyed my parents on such a grand scale. I couldn't really put into words my feelings about leaving home that early spring morning. On one hand my heart was heavy with the thought of hurting my parents. On the other, my.
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