Last Ghost at Gettysburg Read Online Free PDF Page B

think briefly of his mom. Her hair swung behind her
as she hit the sidewalk. “All in all, a successful night,” she
said, fanning the greenbacks she’d earned in tips. “Some of this
goes to the college fund, some for spending. My goal this summer is
to get myself a laptop with all the bells and whistles.”
    “Cool,” said T.J. as they started up
Baltimore Street. He wondered how much Uncle Mike made from his
park ranger salary. He also realized that he’d stupidly forgotten
to bring his laptop down to Pennsylvania. Oh, well. “You were
pretty convincing back there,” he offered. “How many of those talks
do you do a night?”
    “Depends. On the weekends and during
Reenactment Week it seems I’m doing fifty in an evening. And it
does get a little old at times. Some nights I end up changing my
story around, adding characters to my family, blah, blah, blah.
Once in a while, if tips are slow, I’ll even kill myself off, you
know, die of disease a year or so after the battle. Overall, it’s
a good gig. For the most part, the people are really nice. Of
course, you get some guys who maybe have a couple drinks too many
with dinner and try to be smart-alecky, trip you up with questions
or make inappropriate remarks. Then you have some of the reenactors
who show up in their uniforms and try to take over the show by
quizzing me. But I know my stuff. You can’t go to school in this
town without having the history drilled into you. I handle them
okay. The worst are little kids. Man, some of those rug rats can’t
sit still for a minute! Of course, back in the 1800s they’d just
get slapped, but that’s politically incorrect these days. Not that
I haven’t considered it,” she added with an impish smile that made
his heart jump. What was up with that ?
    “What about that dress you have to wear?”
asked T.J. “Doesn’t it get hot in the summer?”
    “Hot isn’t the word,” she answered. “’Cause
there’s a lot more that you don’t see. First, I slip on a chemise
and drawers. On top of that is a corset. Then comes an under
petticoat, also called a privacy petticoat because you wouldn’t
want anyone to look up your skirt when you’re going up the stairs,
would you?”
    “Guess not.”
    “Then comes the hoop, followed by more
petticoats to hide the boning, under sleeves and a collar, and then the dress. And, of course, socks and shoes, which you
have to get on before the hoop or you’ll never reach ‘em.”
    “You have to wear all that?”
    “Yeah, if you want to be authentic. Mom made
a lot of the stuff for me, but things like the hoop, you have to
buy from one of the reenactor supply places in town, and let me
tell you, it ain’t cheap.”
    “I never realized you had to go through so
much to be realistic.”
    “T.J., we’re selling the past here. People
expect that.”
    They stopped abruptly on Chambersburg Street
as a white and blue police cruiser flew by. “There’s something you
don’t see every day,” murmured LouAnne, and she watched the vehicle
until it was out of sight.
    “Pretty quiet here?”
    “Quiet’s not the word, Cuz. Except for the
high season. But something’s going on around here. Even my dad’s
been a little on edge lately.”
    “But he likes being a ranger, right?”
    “ Oh sure, though in a way it’s the same
deal that I have at the Charney Inn. He conducts special tours or
talks around the battlefield for visiting dignitaries or ‘people
who know people,’ if you get what I’m saying. Much better than the
generic tour busses you’ll see all over the place. And let me tell
you, it gets steaming on the grounds during the summer, same
as it was during the actual battle. But Dad loves history, and he
loves the outdoors. Do you know he has a few buddies he goes
shooting with and all they use is Civil War style rifles and
pistols? You know, sticking the bullet down the muzzle, using a
ramrod, the whole deal. Comes home with black powder all over his
face. No, thank