Diane Vitanza Russo lives at Point Roberts, WA, USA, just steps to the Canadian Border. Diane is a freelance writer/journalist. Her articles and photographs have been regularly published in various newspapers and magazines in the US and Canada. Diane is active in Wildlife and Ecological affairs, and for the past couple of years has been keeping The Inditer readers up-to-date on the happenings at Neah Bay, where the Makaw Nation has just successfully hunted it's first whale in seventy years.

As to her personal philosophy, Diane says, "Beleive what you feel in your heart, there is more truth there than in the mind. 'My dream is that someday all of mankind will unite, putting our differences aside, and work together to restore the earth and reverse the cycle of destruction we have all been a part of'."

This time, Diane turns from Ecological and Environmental issues to a short story. Diane's short story is a poignant tale drawn from a sad time in the history of the United States of America.

The Apple

......by Diane Vitanza Russo

Annie ignored the far off sounds of drums as she wandered between the rows of fruit trees, searching the ground for an apple. She was too short to pick one from a branch. The gentle music of the birds, the leaves rustling to the hum of the warm summer breeze and the shadows of swaying branches playfully dancing made her forget the world that waited outside the orchard. The only thing on her mind now was finding a suitable apple.

While she was inspecting one of the fallen fruits for worms and bruises, the sound of a steady drumbeat infiltrated her thoughts. She tried to ignore the intrusion, but it began to grow louder, closer, until she was forced to acknowledge it.

Annie's curiosity took over. She made her way to the edge of the grove and hid behind a tree alongside the road. She peeked around just in time to see the soldiers coming over the crest of the hill. She watched intently as the men marched along, four wide, kicking up clouds of dust as they came. They wore tattered gray pants and jackets and carried rolled blankets and packs on their backs. Each man laboriously carried a heavy musket. Tin cups and canteens clanked against bayonet's as they passed, their feet shuffling, no longer able to keep time with the constant drumbeats. An officers' marching commands were lost in the clamor of stomping brogans, rattling hardware and the steady percussion of the drummer.

She watched anxiously from her hiding place. A glimmer of hope surged in Annie's heart. Could this be her papa's regiment? She peered closely as each row of soldiers passed her, searching the ranks for her father, hoping with each breath that the next man would be him. She sighed with disappointment as the last row of soldiers passed by. She tasted the tears that began streaming down her cheeks and swallowed to clear the lump in her throat. She turned and went back into the orchard, sat under her favorite tree, and waited for the noise of the marching troops to fade away. When she resumed her hunt, the sadness eventually faded. Once again, Annie strolled cheerfully between the rows of trees until finally, she found the perfect apple, bright red and not a blemish on it. She plucked it from the ground and went back to her tree.

She sat with her back against the trunk, her knees pulled to her chest, rubbing the apple on her ankle length, blue cotton skirt to make it bright and shiny. She stared at the fruit, savoring its beauty, prolonging the anticipation of the sweet juices. She stared out toward the edge of the orchard, watching the tiny bugs spinning in the yellow rays as though they were having a celebration. She thought of the celebration they would have when the war was over and her papa returned. She would wear her favorite yellow dress with a matching ribbon in her hair. Papa would scoop her into his arms and swing her around a beautiful ballroom adorned with flowered wallpaper and a giant crystal chandelier hanging from the great, high ceiling. She had never been to such a place, but mama had told her about it and promised they would go when papa returned.

She remembered how she used to search for the best apple in the grove and bring it to papa. That was a happy time. A time before war broke out and papa went off to fight for the Confederacy. She wanted to send an apple to him, but mama had told her no. It would be rotten by the time it reached him, so why bother, she had said.

Suddenly, Annie heard thunder in the distance, startling her out of her day dream. Frightened by the sounds, she sprang to her feet and began running in the direction of the dirt road. When she emerged from the grove, in her haste she ran straight into a boy walking along the route. The impact knocked her to the ground.

"Whoa!" shouted a boy's voice.

Annie was laying in the dirt, the wind knocked out of her, when the boy stooped down to her side.

"Are you okay, girl?"

She struggled to sit up and looked at the boy, who was perhaps only a few years older than her. She still felt half dazed from the jolt, but with the aid of his extended hand, she managed to pull herself to her feet and regain her breath.

"Why don' ye watch where ye goin'," she shouted at him.

"Nah." She said, while rubbing her bruised thigh. She realized she was still clutching the apple and slipped it into her pocket. "What's yer big hurry, anyhow?"

Just then, another cannon erupted in the distance, followed by more vollies of musket fire. "That's my big hurry! Don't ye hear that?"

"Sure, I hear it. Them's the Yanks come ta take over. But don' you worry, our boys is gonna send em runnin like skeered rabbits."

"I'm skeered too. I wanna go home!" She fought back the rising lump in her throat as she blinked away the emerging tears from her eyes.

"Where do ye live?"

"Down the road yonder." She pointed in the direction of her farmhouse.

"Sounds ta me like the fightin's goin' on over that way. C'mon, I'll walk ye home."

Annie shook the dust from her dress and brushed a few unruly strands of her brown hair from her face. The two walked towards Annie's farm.

"Where ye headin'?"

"Me? I'm goin' ta join the battle," he exclaimed proudly. "Us men gotta protect our land and you woman folk from those darn Federals ye know. What's yer name girl?"

"Annie Pender, what's yers?"

"Clayton Lowe. Pleased to make yer acquaintance Annie." He tipped his hat.

"Ain't ye kinda young ta be goin off fightin in the war? And how come ye ain't wearin no Confederate clothes?"

"I'll be gettin my duds real soon, yes siree! And I ain't too young, neither! Why, I'm almost thirteen. Will be, come August."

Annie counted on her fingers. "Blah! You ain't no more 'n three years older 'n me. I bet you can't even shoot!"

"I can too shoot!" He reached behind him and took the haversack from his back. Laying it on the ground, he opened the canvas sack and reached in. "Lookie here! This here was my daddy's." He proudly displayed a rusty pistol. The foreboding thunder continued in the distance. "Just ye wait 'n see. I'm gonna be pickin off them Bluecoats 'fore days end!"

"C'mon Clayton Lowe, put that pistol away and let's git movin'. I wanna go home! Side's, ye probably can't even hit the side of a barn."

"Okay, okay, don't start cryin' on me now. I'll take ye to yer mama."

Clayton placed the pistol back in the sack, tied it closed and flung it over his shoulder.

"I 'spose ye better get home and hide. Ain't no tellin' what them doodles 'll be up to."

The boys words frightened Annie even more, but she was determined not to cry. She took a deep breath, jutted out her chin, held her shoulders erect and marched forward, trying to appear brave.

The echoes of artillery intensified as they neared Annie's farm. Once they were in front of her modest house, Annie felt a sense of relief.

"Thank ye kindly fer walkin with me." Annie said as she opened the rickety gate of the white washed picket fence.

"My pleasure miss Annie." He tipped his hat once again and was on his way. As he strode off, Annie heard him declare, "Here I come you Yanks! Better git to runnin!"

Annie ran up the path to the front door where her mother waited.

"Where ye been child! There's war goin on! Don' ye be runnin' off no more, ye hear!"

"Yes, mama. I'm skeered mama. When are they gonna stop? When's papa comin' home?"

"Don' know child. Yer papa's far away. Tennessee, I reckon. You jest git inside with yer sister. That fightin' be mighty close now."

Annie sat huddled with her sister and mother, waiting for a time when they would once again hear the sounds of crows over the corn field, rather than explosions and screams of agony.

Suddenly there was pounding on the door.

"Miz Pender, Miz Pender!" a man's voice shouted.

Annie's mother ran to the door.

"Miz Pender, we need yer help. These boys is injured and need care."

Annie came out from the kitchen and peeked around from behind her mother. A tall, elderly man dressed in a black suit was standing on the porch. He scratched his white beard as he turned toward the soldiers. Men were gradually wandering into the yard. Dazed and wounded, they searched out the cool grass to rest while others propped their tired bodies against the fence and along the roadside. Bleeding men were being carried in through the gate and placed on blankets in the grass.

"Good Lord! Yes, yes, Mr. Montgomery. Mary!" she shouted for her elder daughter. "Come quick, come quick."

When Mary appeared, her mother issued instructions to boil water and tear up some rags to use as bandages.

"Annie, you git the bucket and ladle and bring some water out to those men. Be quick about it child!"

The three were busy tending the wounded that were scattered throughout the yard. Annie moved among the soldiers, carrying a bucket of water, offering them sips from her ladle. She had never seen anything like this before. One soldier's face was ripped open exposing the bone, another lay in the grass clutching his stomach, groaning in agony, another was missing part of a leg. Everywhere she turned, she saw men squirming with pain, their bodies torn and beaten. Annie's mother overheard her asking if anyone had seen her father. She became annoyed with the child.

"Annie! Stop pesterin them boys! You best git in the house. Yer only in the way out here." Her mother gestured with a wave of her arm for Annie to go inside.

Annie dutifully marched into the house, relieved to get away from the devastation and the stench of the wounded.

The sounds of the battle were coming from the other side of the corn field. Annie could no longer stand the noise. She wanted to see what was happening. She wanted to find her papa. He might be out there fighting. Her mother and sister were busy caring for the wounded men, so she slipped out the back door. She ran through the grove of trees that bordered the cornfield and hid behind a tree near the edge to watch the struggle that was taking place.

Men's shoulders molded together forming a gray wall that stretched across the land, slowly advancing toward the hill occupied by the Federals. She could see sharpshooters crouched behind bushes and trees, sending carefully aimed shots toward the bluff, where the Union troops formed a solid blue line across the horizon. As the Confederate line progressed toward the hill, a bugle sounded and a charge commenced. The gray wall surged forward and up the slope.

"Take that hill, boys! Take that hill!" a Confederate officer on horseback bellowed.

Annie lay flat on her belly, watching the skirmish. A shiver ran through her body, but she was unable to make herself turn away. Yankee cannons fired down upon the Confederate advance, the sounds piercing her ears like daggers. Run away, run away, her inner voice told her. But she was immobilized by fear.

The Union troops began raining down artillery fire. The rumbling echoed through the ravine and up the hillside like a violent storm as intermingled sounds of battle whoops, officers commands and cries of agony permeated the thick clouds of smoke hovering over the gully. Annie watched men fall to the ground and lie there bloodied and writhing with pain. She could no longer bear to watch. She clamped her palms over her ears and buried her face in the ground.

"Please, oh please, make them stop, make them stop!"

Her weary body finally succumbed to the fear. The sounds became a blur, the darkness behind her eyelids began to spin and Annie passed out.

When she woke, she heard only the sounds of a gentle breeze caressing the brush around her. The noise of the conflict was gone. Could it be she was dreaming? Could it be this carnage never really happened? How she hoped it was only a dream. She dared to open her eyes and raise her head. She stretched her neck to look out into the field. She could see bodies lying on the ground. She could see soldiers carrying the wounded back into the woods.

Annie came out from the bushes where she had been hiding and walked to the edge of the meadow. A shroud of smoke, heavy with the smell of gun powder lingered overhead as a reminder of the devastation that had taken place. The white daisies that lined the edge of the field, their yellow centers glowing beneath the sun that filtered through the layer of smoke, were all that remained alive and untarnished. An eerie silence prevailed.

The waist high wheat that once bowed only to the wind, was flattened and smothered with mud. Wooden wheels had carved deep ruts into the dirt. A red and white cloth lay in the mud, torn and trampled. The split rail fence along the opposite edge of the field had been beaten down to splinters and craters pocked the ground where the soil had been gouged by explosions from iron cannon balls.

Gone were the thunderous echoes of cannon, musket fire, battle whoops and cries of anguish. They were replaced by the hushed aftermath of devastation. Bodies lay strewn across the terrain like fallen scarecrows, some clad in blue, others in gray, all lifeless and bloodstained. A lone soldier walked among them, searching for a missing comrade. She could hear the murmurs of retreating soldiers wearily humming their battle hymn. Soon even their sounds drifted away and all that was left was the familiar chirping of birds returning to reclaim their meadow.

Annie retreated by the path through the woods. When she arrived at the dirt road that led to her house, it was filled with soldiers. This time they were not marching. Instead, their brogans dragged through the dirt as they succumbed to fatigue and wearily made their retreat. Some shouldered injured comrades, others walked alone, all were haggard and somber. She searched among the ragged troops, looking for her father. She blinked the tears from her eyes, tugged on the sleeve of one man and questioned, "Samuel Pender? Have ye seen a man named Samuel Pender?"

"Don' know nobody by that name. Ye best be gettin' home missy. Go on, git!"

Annie shuffled among the men, asking the same question over and over. No one had heard of him. She left and went across the open field, heading toward the weathered barn that stood at the edge of their property. When she arrived, she hid behind the building, peeking around the corner, watching her house and the bustling activity around it. Her mother and sister were frantically scurrying among the wounded. A group of men were erecting a white canvas tent in front of the house. Annie stood silently, watching the activity.

Suddenly, she realized she was not alone. She spun around and saw a man sitting on the ground, his back leaning against the barn. His blue uniform was not worn and tattered like the other soldiers she had seen, except for a tear in his trousers. His jacket boasted two rows of shiny gold buttons down the center of his chest and he had gold trimmed boards signifying his rank attached to the shoulders. His black hat was adorned with a gold cord around the crown. He wore a stunning maroon sash around his waist, the prettiest sash she'd ever seen, and a long, gleaming sword rested at his side. His polished boots were stained with mud, unlike the worn, bedraggled boots of the other soldiers. When their eyes met, he raised his index finger to his lips.

"Shhhh. Please little girl, don't let them find me here."

His piercing brown eyes pleaded with her gaze. Annie was too startled and frightened to speak. The man gestured for her to come close to him. She hesitated. Although he frightened her at first, his eyes seemed to penetrate into her heart. His smile was warm and kind. She wanted to help him.

"Are ye hurt Mister?"

"Yep. Been stabbed in the leg missy. If'n you'll just let me rest here for a spell, I'll be on my way at nightfall to rejoin my regiment."

Annie moved closer to the soldier and examined his leg. The exposed wound was covered with dried blood.

"Can ye walk, Mister?"

"I made it to here, but the pain got to be so bad, I just couldn't go no more. Please, just let me rest here a spell. If those Johnnies get hold of me, they'll take me prisoner and then there ain't no tellin what'll happen. I reckon, could even be they'll kill me."

"But ain't you the enemy?"

"I swear miss, I would never hurt a pretty young thing like you. Why I can barely walk, how could I harm you anyways. Side's, I'd never want to."

The soldier moaned. The pain from his wound was getting worse.

"Lemme have a look at that. Don' know much bout doctorin', but I seen my mama do it a heap." Annie knelt beside the soldier. "Seems to me we best clean this up and git ye a bandage."

"No, no! Ya can't let anyone know I'm here, please!"

"Okay, Mister. I won't tell no one, but fer sure someone's gonna see ye if'n ye stay out here. Can ye walk enough to get inside the barn? Ain't nobody will be goin' in there fer a while. They already took our horse. Ain't nothin left in there for nobody to take. C'mon."

She stood up and tugged at the man's arm to help him to his feet. The moment he stepped on his wounded leg, he groaned and he fell to his knees. "Wait, wait." Annie protested. "Le'me see if I can find somethin to help ye walk on. Be right back."

Annie went inside the barn and returned carrying a pitchfork. The soldier panicked the moment he saw her coming toward him with it. When Annie saw the expression of fear in his eyes, she broke out into laughter, the first time she could remember laughing in weeks.

"Don' worry Mister, I ain't bringin this to hurt ye. I brung it to help ye. It's the only thing I could find fer ye to use fer a crutch."

The soldier let out a deep breath and laughed gently. "What's yer name little one?"

"Annie."

"Well, Annie, yer a mighty brave woman."

Annie was flattered that the soldier had called her a woman. She could feel the blood rush to her face, turning her cheeks hot and red.

"Thank ye sir" she said as she twisted and wrung her skirt between her hands. "C'mon Mister, let's git ye hidden away in the barn, then I'll git ye some water."

"Much abliged ma'am. Much abliged." He managed a weak, but grateful smile.

The soldier struggled to his feet, leaned against the barn and Annie handed him the pitchfork.

"What's yer name, Mister?"

"Lt. Colonel Joshua Symms, at yer service, ma'm."

He pierced the ground ahead of him with the pitchfork and pulled himself to it, dragging his wounded leg. Annie helped the soldier pull the prongs from the dirt and move it forward. They slowly and cautiously made it through the barn door without being detected. Annie found an old horse blanket laying in a stall. She guided the soldier into the stall where he laid down in the hay and she covered him with the blanket.

"Ya won't tell no one I'm here, will ya Annie?"

"Oh, no sir! Cross my heart." Annie traced a cross on her chest with her finger. "Don' ye worry none, I'm real good at keepin' secrets. I'll fetch ye some water now. You stay quiet till I git back."

The soldier nodded and put his head down, finally willing to concede to sleep. What a nice man, and the most handsome she'd ever seen, just like her papa, Annie thought as she started toward the door. She put her hands into her dress pockets, and to her surprise, discovered the apple she had forgotten about. She went back to the soldier and stooped beside him. He was already asleep. Annie placed the apple in the hay next to him. "He'll like this when he wakes up," she thought.

Annie went back to the house. Fortunately, everyone had been too busy to miss her. She searched until she found a cloth suitable for a bandage. She lifted her dress and stuffed the cloth under her waistband. Her mother walked in as she was smoothing down her skirts.

"Oh Annie, why must ye worry about primping at a time like this? Run and fetch a bucket of water. Then fill the kettle and tend to the fire. Don' nobody care what ye look like now. We got boys everywhere that needs a tendin' to so don' ye be fussin' over yer dress. Git to work child!"

"Yes, mama. Ain't much left in the wood pile ye know."

"S'okay child, we'll jest have one of them officers tend to cuttin' us some more. Jest bring in what we got."

"Yes, mama. Can I go to the field and pick some berries fer the soldiers mama? We ain't got much food to give em."

"You jist bring in the wood and tend the fire. Maybe later ye be pickin' berries."

"Yes, ma'am."

Annie obediently went to the wood pile and carried in as much as her arms could hold. After several trips, she had a fire roaring under the kettle filled with water. She went outside to find her mother.

"Mama" she said, tugging on her sleeve. "The fire's cookin' and all the wood's in. Can I go pick berries now?"

Her mother was wrapping a narrow strip of cloth around the forehead of a young man.

"Not now child, I'm busy, I'm busy. Go fetch some water."

Annie scooped up the bucket and ran toward the well. After she filled the bucket with water, she made sure no one was watching her and ran to the barn, spilling half the water on the way.

Clayton Lowe sat on the ground, leaning against the house, watching Annie at the well. He scratched his chin, bewildered, as he saw the girl run toward the barn instead of returning to the soldiers. "Wonder what she's up to in there?" he said aloud. "Hmmm. Maybe they got animals in there." He watched the barn, waiting for Annie to come out, hoping she would bring him water.

Annie crept into the stall where Joshua was sleeping. She removed the cloth from under her skirt, tore it in half and soaked one half in the bucket of water, then wrung it out. She knelt next to Joshua and began to gently dab his wound with the cloth. As she lifted the torn wool from the cut, ripping the dried blood from his skin, he awoke from the pain. Bolting up and reaching for his weapon, he knocked Annie onto her back.

"Gee Mister, ye ain't gotta be so riled. It's jist me."

Joshua leaned back with relief. "Don sneak up like that girl. I coulda hurt ya."

She notice the apple had rolled into the dirt during the commotion. She reached over, picked it up and started polishing the fruit with her skirt.

"I'll jest have to shine this up again fer ye. This here's the tastiest apple ye ever would eat. Used ta bring one to my papa ever day." She handed the apple to the soldier.

"Thank you kindly Annie."

He crunched into the apple as though he hadn't eaten in days. Then it was gone.

"Ye sure musta been hungry Mister."

"Much abliged, Annie. I surely was."

"Let's git ta fixin that wound a yers now. I'll try not ta hurt ye agin."

Annie cleaned the open cut and then wrapped the dry cloth around his leg.

"What's goin on out there Annie?" "Gee, Mister, there's sick boys everywhere! I should go bring them some water now. Mama'll be wonderin' where I got to purty soon." She scooped the ladle from the bucket and put it against Joshua's lips. "Here, take some 'fore I go."

"Guess you best be gettin back now Annie, 'fore they come lookin fer ya."

"Bye Mister Joshua. It don' look like ye be goin' anywhere right quick, so I'll see ye later. Don' ye worry, I'll be real careful that no one sees me comin in here."

"Good girl," he replied with a smile.

Annie left the barn and walked back to the well to fill the bucket again. As she was walking past the house she heard her name called.

"Annie, Annie, over here! Come bring me some a that drink."

She turned and saw that it was the boy she had met that morning on the road.

"Clayton! You been hurt in the fight?"

"Nah, jest got bruised up when I got knocked over. Why I picked off more a them Yanks than ye could count!"

Annie offered a ladle of water to the boy. "Sure glad ta see yer okay Clayton."

"Whatcha been doing out in the barn? Ye ain't got no animals out there have ye?"

"No siree. No animals left. Not much food left either, but I will surely try ta scrape somethin up fer ye." She tried to change the subject from the barn.

"So what was ye doin' in the barn with the bucket, Annie?"

"Aaa aaah ain't doin' nothin!" She said nervously, unable to think of anything else.

"Damnation girl! Whatcha be bringin water in there fer?"

"I'm makin mud pies. So what! You nevermind! Ain't no concern a yers anyways!"

"I ain't believin a word ye say!"

"You jest nevermind! Ye want food or don't ye!"

"Sure I do. Sure I do."

Annie ran off. When she returned to Clayton she handed him a stale biscuit and a small piece of salt pork.

"This here's all I could muster up fer ye Clayton. Maybe git some berries later."

"Gee, thank ye Annie." He jammed the food in his mouth without stopping.

"Do ye think the war's over now Clayton?"

"Nah. But don' ye worry girl, we done drove them Yanks back north. Don' think they be coming back this way real soon."

"Where'd they go to?"

"Don' know, we jest send 'em runnin! Back north, I 'spose."

"I gotta go Clayton. You stay here an rest up. I'll try an git ye some more food later."

"Bye Annie."

The boy watched her cautiously as she went back into the house. She was up to something and he was going to find out what.

By nightfall, the soldiers had erected four tents in the yard. Annie and Mary had gone to their beds in the loft, while mama sat in her rocker in front of the hearth writing a letter. Annie lay there, listening to the muffled wails coming from the tents outside where the soldiers were receiving medical attention. She waited for Mary to fall asleep and then crawled to the edge of the loft and peered down. Her mother had fallen asleep in her chair. Annie climbed down the ladder, covered her mother with a quilt and silently crept out the back door. She raced to the barn. When she got there, she found Joshua standing up.

"Whatcha doin' Joshua?"

"I'm gettin' ready to leave miss Annie."

"Wasn't ye even gonna say good bye?" Annie's voice quivered.

"I gotta go now Annie, whilst it's dark, so them Johnnies don't spot me."

"Oh, please stay. I won't let nobody hurt ye."

"Gotta get back to my men Annie. Don't you worry, I'll be fine."

"Here, I brought ye some biscuits." She handed the food to the soldier with tears in her eyes. "I don' want ye to go, sir. Please don' leave like my papa did."

"It's okay Annie. This war's gonna be over soon and your papa will be back home again. You'll see. Go on now, git. You be a good girl and git back to your house." He bent down and kissed Annie on the forehead and turned her toward the door. "Go on Annie, you git home now."

Annie walked to the door and stopped. She turned and looked at Joshua. "Bye, mister. I sure will miss ye."

He smiled as she closed the barn door behind her.

Annie was back in the loft, watching out the window. She could see the flickering amber shadows of lanterns burning inside the white canvas tents. She watched men ride in on horses and listened to the subdued songs of the weary soldiers sitting around their campfires. A wagon had stopped at the front gate and several men were removing crates, carrying them into the tents.

Suddenly, three shots rang out. Soldiers began scurrying everywhere. Annie bolted down the ladder and out the door, running toward the barn. She saw a group of soldiers huddled in the field behind the barn and ran toward them. She heard a voice shouting.

"We got him! We got him!"

Annie flung open the barn door. Joshua was gone. She ran toward the group of men in the field. As she got closer, she could see a silver reflection from a lantern on the ground.

"Joshua!" she screamed.

She pushed her way between the soldiers. Joshua's body lay on the cold ground, still. She fell to her knees next to him.

"No! No!" she cried. "You killed him!" "No! No! Joshua!" Her head fell to his chest and she sobbed. As Annie removed the sash from Joshua's waist, she felt two hands grab her shoulders.

"C'mon child. I'll take you home."

It was the man in the black suit. He lifted her into his arms and carried her toward the house.

As she looked back, she saw Clayton standing over Joshua's body, an evil grin on his face.

"See Annie, I CAN shoot, too," the boy shouted.

"I hate you" she thought.

As she lay in bed, eyes wide open, she promised herself, she promised Joshua, she would never forget him. Annie clutched the sash to her chest and cried herself to sleep, mourning the death of her handsome soldier.

Three weeks later a letter arrived.

"Girls, girls, come sit down whilst I read this letter from yer papa." Annie's mother ripped open the envelope with excitement and began to read it aloud.

My dearest wife and daughters, I do pray that this letter arrives finding you well and coping. The war has taken a terrible toll on many. Today there was an awful battle. Our boys displayed a gallant bravery while facin the enemy. I have taken a bullet in my chest. There is a kindly woman here in the hospital who has been caring for me and is writing this letter as I dictate it cause I am too weak to write myself. If you receive this, it will be because Annie's mother stopped reading. She clutched the letter to her chest and began sobbing.

"Please, mama, please finish." Mary pleaded.

Annie did not need to hear the rest. She got up and silently walked outside. She ran down the road to the apple orchard and sat under her favorite tree. This time she did not search for an apple. There was no need to. She knew her papa was with Joshua now. She knew there would be no more apples. She leaned against the tree and closed her eyes, remembering her father's smile, Joshua's smile. Tears emerged from behind her closed lids. The war had taken what she cared about most. She would never see those smiles again, she would never search for the perfect apple again.