Anna looked up from her washtub to see a lone man staggering into the yard. His Confederate uniform was tattered, a crutch under his right arm helped him walk, and the left wooden leg kept poking holes into the ground. The man wore a hat that was as tattered as his clothes and she could see the bandana underneath. The shoulders were broad, but the man was a mere shadow of a healthy adult. His worldly goods were on his back, held by leather bands running across his chest. He leaned against the fence and tipped the bill of his hat upward.
“Would it be possible to rest here on your porch, Mrs. MacDonald? I"m not sure I can make it into Schmidt"s Corner today. It"s been a long walk from Arles.”
“No von gave du a ride?”
Why, thought Anna, would the Rebs of Arles let a returning soldier walk?
