William and my father hurried over to the window. “What is it?” my mother murmured, taking hold of my elbow. “I don’t know,” my father said, peering hard. Without a word, William began to gather his clothes. “Where are you going?” I found myself asking, unsure whether he was leaving on account of my father or something else. Regardless, I didn’t like the idea. He finally turned and spoke. “The shots are coming from the north. That means there is some sort of confrontation. I think it may be my regiment.” “What makes you say that?” my father asked, turning from the window for the first time. William wiped his forehead nervously.“Our journey there was only supposed to take a couple days. Then we were to double back, meet a second company, and head east.” He looked toward the window. “Something’s gone wrong.” “You think so?” my father asked incredulously. “What did you think would happen, trekking through towns, bullying people?” “It wasn’t meant to…it’s not what we were supposed to be doing.”
