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“There’s a lot of them,” I said, opening the bulging file.
“They moved them to the Internet, but it was more efficient to have them copied directly from the files.”
“Thanks, Gertie.” I pulled out the first letter from a soldier to his wife.
“No prob. Maybe there will be a clue in one of them.”
We spent the better part of the evening reading the letters from soldiers, when I came across one that tugged at my heartstrings.
The soldier wrote to his mother about all the things he missed from home. Swimming in the pond, shooting dove, riding his favorite horse. The letter told his mother he didn’t think he’d make it home, because he’d been shot in the leg and was caught in a fence. He apologized for running off and joining the war at ten and two.
Ten and two? He’s only twelve. My heart thumped hard in my chest as I continued to read. He was sorry for complaining about the chores, and he wouldn’t return to help care for his ma or marry the pretty neighbor girl.
The letter had a thumbprint stain at the bottom. Blood.
Tears welled up in my eyes and I glanced over at Gertie. She was wiping away the wet from her cheeks.
“I can’t read any more,” she said.
“This one’s from a boy, he was only twelve.” I handed Gertie the letter, and she read the words that still made my vision blurred.
She flipped the letter over and read the back. “The boy died at Gettysburg on the second day. That’s all it says. The letter was found with him.”
We sat in silence until our tears dried. I had a hollow pain in my stomach and decided if I filled it with pizza it might go away.
“I’m going to order a pizza, you in?”
“I could go for pizza.” Gertie pulled open the next file.
“Gert, you’re not going to read more are you?”
“Yep, I can’t let you go back without me. This is a bad war, and I don’t want anything to happen to you. If I study from now until the moon cycle, I’d be an asset to you.”
She was right. Between her photographic memory, the papers she’d already written on the Civil War, and her knowledge of the time, she would be a treasured resource.
I wrapped my arms around her and hugged tight. “I don’t know if Jake will let me go. He probably won’t let you go.”
“Then we need to convince him otherwise.” She smiled at me after I released her. “I wouldn’t mind being a southern belle.Gone with the Windis a favorite book of mine.” She batted her eyelashes at me. “Why Miss Cloud, I’d be much obliged if you’d add a few peppahs to that pizza.”
“You got it.” Gertie was a blessing; however, I didn’t think we’d be sipping punch in Georgia. If the message on the sword was a clue to Caiyan’s destination, I’d drop a pin on the heart of the Civil War.
Chapter 14
Iwaited in the blue room at headquarters approximately one hour before the moon cycle opened. Pickles’s premonitions had my team anxiously gathering data based on premeditated destinations chosen by their brigands.
Gerry and Tina sat, heads together, studying a ninth century map of England. The Cracky Clan was splitting up this trip, and a few of them were headed to Wessex.
Brodie chewed on a coffee straw as he flipped through an iPad. Rogue targeted Philadelphia, but Pickles couldn’t get the year.
Marco hadn’t said boo to me since I arrived. He sat at the end of the table scrolling through his smartphone. Fine, he could ignore me, I had bigger problems. The wedding was tonight, and if Jake sent me on a mission with one of the other defenders, I couldn’t stop Caiyan from marrying Satan’s bitch.
“Hey Jen,” Campy said as he entered the room. I stood and he encircled me in a hug. He had the same build as Caiyan, and my heart shed a small tear.
“Hi,” I squeaked. His muscles bulged when he squeezed me. “You’ve been hitting the weights.”
“Every day,” he released me and blushed slightly. “A defender must have strength, integrity, and fidelity.”
Marco snorted at the last word in the WTF’s motto. Campy cut his eyes at Marco, then back at me. “Do you know where the Mafusos are going yet?”
