Willie woke to the sound of low voices. She blinked her eyes open and saw hay and daylight. Memory came sweeping back. She sat up hastily, dislodging Mr. Bellyrub. He uttered a squeaking meow, clambered to his feet, and shook himself from head to toe.
“Sorry,” Willie said, stroking his tiny head, and it appeared that Mr. Bellyrub wasn’t one to hold grudges, for he butted against her fingers and purred. Then he yawned widely and shook himself again.
Willie yawned, too, and rubbed her face and put her hand to her hair, which felt as tangled as a briar patch. Lieutenant Mayhew and the wagon driver were at the barn door. The lieutenant said something, his voice too low for her to catch the words, but it sounded like a question. The driver replied gruffly.
Willie plucked out her hairpins. Sh
