Page 9 - Crossing the Deadline

Crossing the Deadline

when I make my way down the aisle of the train. As I scout
for an empty seat, I overhear one fella talking about how he
got his first kiss from his sweetheart just before boarding the

train. Those not talking about their sweethearts talk about
how quickly the 9th Indiana will end the war.
I notice a shiny leather horn case in a compartment with
one empty space nearby. “Is that seat taken?” I ask, pointing.

“Naw, help yourself,” the man in the seat says as he turns
my way. It’s August Smith, a fellow bugler from the Centerville
band. “What are you doing here?” he asks, jumping up to
give me a hug.

“I knew you were joining, and I thought the Ninth
needed a good bugler,” I say with a laugh.
“Well, it’s good to see you,” August replies. “I can’t believe
you joined.”

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