Freeing Lost Souls (The Family Tree Series Book 1)

by Tracy Kincaid

  ___________________________

  From: Daniel Banks

  Subject: Genealogist

  Date: September 10, 2015 5:45pm

  To: Sarah Finny

  Sarah,

  Here is the information you requested for the

  genealogist that I used in my family search. Please feel

  free to use my name when you contact her. I’ve let

  Teresa Parker know that you may be in touch.

  Good luck in your search. The information is below.

  Best regards,

  Daniel Banks

  Genealogist, Teresa Parker

  tparker@gene.com

  ___________________________

  From: Sarah Finny

  Subject: Re: Genealogist

  Date: September 10, 2015 7:00pm

  To: Daniel Banks

  Mr. Banks,

  Thank you for the info. I’m very interested, so I’ll

  send her an email tonight.

  Best,

  Sarah

  ___________________________

  From: Sarah Finny

  Subject: Genealogist help

  Date: September 10, 2015 7:15pm

  To: Teresa Parker

  Hello, Ms. Parker,

  I received your contact info from Mr. Banks at the

  Gettysburg Historical Society. Mr. Banks said you

  helped him with his Civil War family search and I was

  wondering if you might be willing to help me as well. I know

  we have family who was in the war, but beyond my

  last name, I don’t know very much.

  Thank you in advance for any help you can offer.

  Best,

  Sarah Finny

  ___________________________

  I check a few other things that came through on email before Buc and I go for a walk around the neighborhood. Tomorrow I plan to draw in the Wheatfield.

  Chapter 3

  I’m sitting at a local diner, and Buc is not happy since he has to wait in the car. Not much I can do when they don’t have a patio. It’s early morning. Not too many people are out and about yet. I like it this way since it means that everything will be quiet while I’m working.

  A waitress with red hair piled on her head walks up to take my order. “What can I get ya, honey?” She reminds me of the waitress from that old TV show “Alice,” the gum crewing and all. Funny thing is, the name on her tag reads Flo. What are the chances?

  “I’ll have bacon, eggs, and hash browns. Eggs over medium, no runny whites, please. And the hash browns well done.” I can’t stand eating eggs with runny whites, it grosses me out.

  “Anything to drink?”

  “Coffee, please, black is fine.” She writes my order on her pad and heads off to the kitchen. I brought one of the maps with me to look over, along with the information on the Wheatfield. Flo comes back with my coffee.

  “You heading out to the Wheatfield today?”

  “Yeah, I’m doing some drawings for the Historical Society. I’m just starting and thought I’d start there. Do you have any tips about the area? I’ve never been here before.”

  “The Wheatfield doesn’t get as much traffic as Little Round Top or Devil’s Den, so if you want to be left alone, you picked a good spot. And our weather’s very unpredictable, so people don’t really start to show up until later, closer to summer. Have you taken any of the tours in town yet?”

  “I did the CD car tour. Do you have any recommendations?”

  “The one where the guide goes with you is a great one. They all know so much about this area. I know a good one. His name is Bruce Wilks. Call the Visitor’s Center and ask for him. Tell him Flo sent you.”

  “Thanks, I’ll check it out.” She winks and walks back toward the kitchen. By the time she gets back there, my food is ready, so she comes right back.

  “Here you go. Can I get you anything else?”

  “Maybe more coffee in a bit. That would be great.”

  “Sure thing.” She leaves me to eat my breakfast.

  When I move to the counter to pay, Flo’s at the register. “You know, you may also want to check out some of the ghost tours as well. Some of them are pretty lame, but for the most part they are filled with a lot of information on the darker side of Gettysburg. It’s worth checking it out.”

  I’m not really into ghost tours. They freak me out a bit. I tend to be sensitive to the ghosts, and I’ve had my run-in with a few ghosts in my line of work. “I’ll think about that one. Thanks again for the recommendations.”

  “You bet. Good luck.” She turns to help a new customer as I walk out the door. Buc perks up when I make it back to the Jeep. I hand him a few pieces of bacon that I saved for him.

  We take off in the direction of the Wheatfield, stopping at a convince store on the way for snacks and drinks for later. As I’m driving, I notice how quiet it is out here. I’ve yet to see another car on the road or another living person. Occasionally I’ll see a deer or a rabbit lift its head when they hear the Jeep. It really is beautiful here, so peaceful, even though a lot of soldiers have lost their lives in this area.

  Once I find the spot where I want to work, I let Buc out of the car and gather all my art supplies. I don’t like to bring too much with me, just an easel and a folding chair, along with my small art supply case. The less the better to travel with.

  The wheat is just starting to get tall in the area where I want to be. I do my best not to trample everything in my path. I want to see things as they are naturally. I find the spot and set up my easel. I have a ritual I do before I start drawing. It’s silly, but it helps me get in the right frame of mind. Starting off, I do a slow circle and look at my surroundings, looking at lighting and to make sure nothing is in my line of vision, like roads and cars or, in Gettysburg’s case, monuments. Then I sit and close my eyes, listening to my surroundings and smelling the fresh air. Once I’m relaxed, I open my eyes. I’m now ready to start.

  Where I’m sitting, I’m surrounded by tall wheat, bordered by tall trees. My hands and eyes do the work for me. I love doing what I do. I feel free, at one with nature. I’m just starting to get into my groove when I hear Buc barking in the distance. “Damn it, Buc.” I set my chalk down and stand up to see what he’s barking at.

  Buc is usually quiet when we are out on a project. He’s trained to stay close to the Jeep so I don’t have to hunt for him everywhere. And he knows to stay just outside my line of sight. When I finally find him, he’s lying on the ground. “What is it, Buc?” He lifts his head and looks at me then lays his head back down. That’s freaky. I squat down next to him and rub behind his ear. I look around and don’t see anything out of the ordinary, so I’ve no clue why he was barking.

  “Come, Buc,” I call to him and start back to my set-up. He follows me then heads over to lie down under a tree. Wonder what that was all about? I sit back down and begin drawing again.

  * * *

  When my stomach starts to growl, I check my watch and realize I’ve been working for several hours. “No wonder I’m getting hungry. Come, Buc. Let’s get lunch.” Once I embark on work, I tend to get lost in what I’m doing. Sometimes I don’t even see what I’m drawing. My hands seem to work of their own accord.

  Buc and I take off for the Jeep. I’ve not seen or heard anyone else since we’ve been out here. It really is strange to be all alone. But I do prefer to work without anyone watching over my shoulder. It can be distracting, people asking twenty questions and wondering if I will draw something for them. It’s annoying, really. It’s not like I go to the place where they work to bug them all day. I try not to be mean, but sometimes that’s what it takes to get them to leave me alone. So the fact that no one’s around here has been great.

  After sitting under a tree listening to music and eating lunch, I feel rested and want to get back to work. It’s nice to have a job that you love. It takes the sting out of work.

  Buc is sleeping under the tree, and I lea
ve him. He is close to the Jeep, so at least I know where he is. I make my way back over to my work space and sit down. I pick up my chalk, lift my hand to the page, and stop mid-way. I look at what I’ve drawn so far, expecting to see the Wheatfield in my drawing.

  What I didn’t expect to see was a man in full uniform standing in the tall wheat. The drawing is of a soldier without a face. I either had not been able to conjure one up or I broke for lunch before I could finish. How strange. I don’t usually do portrait type work. I actually try to stay away from it. I prefer scenic pictures. It’s a bit spooky since I didn’t realize I was drawing this.

  The soldier in the drawing is wearing what looks like a Union uniform. His shoulders are broad, and a rifle is slung over his right shoulder. He has his bayonet strapped on the left side of his belt. He seems to have some sort of backpack or bed roll on his back. He’s also wearing a belt, a buckle that has the letters US on it. No other detail on the uniform, so I have no idea who he may be.

  “Well, that’s just great,” I grumble. I look around and still don’t see anyone. Frustrated, I pack up my supplies and make it to the Jeep. I’ve wasted a whole day on a faceless soldier, instead of what I was supposed to be working on.

  Chapter 4

  As I’m putting all of my supplies back into the Jeep, Buc starts barking. I turn to see what he’s barking at. In the distance, I see a man waving. It must be someone doing the walking tour. I didn’t realize it came this far out. The man limps toward me.

  “Boy, am I glad to see you.” He removes his backpack and bends over, bracing himself on his knees as he catches his breath. He seems to be favoring his right leg.

  “Can I help you with something?”

  He stands and puts his hand out to shake. “Hi, I’m Bruce Wilks. I was doing the walking tour and ate it. I tripped over a damn rock and twisted my ankle. I would have called my buddy to come pick me up, but my cell ran out of juice, again. It’s time for a new phone, I guess.” He shrugs.

  I look down at his foot. He’s wearing shorts and hiking boots, and his leg looks pretty swollen at the top of his boot already. “Yeah, cell phones never work when you need them the most. Are you all right? Your leg looks pretty swollen.”

  “Yeah. I’m sure it’ll be fine once I get some ice on it. Would you be willing to take me back to my truck? It’s at the Visitor Center. I’ve been out here for a while and have not seen another car for hours.”

  “Sure, I guess I could do that. Let me finish putting my gear in the Jeep.”

  “Do you need a hand?” he asks nicely.

  “No, I’ve got it. Thanks. Why don’t you get off that foot,” I suggest.

  “Sure, thanks.” He limps over to the passenger side and gets in. I had most of the supplies in already. I don’t usually do this kind of thing, but I can tell he’s hurt, and he’s right. I’ve not seen anyone else all day. Besides, I have Buc with me, and he’ll protect me.

  As I jump into the Jeep, I see that my trusty dog has made a new friend. Figures.

  “What’s your dog’s name?” He chuckles as Buc licks his face.

  “Buc,” I answer as I start the car and drive toward the Visitor Center.

  “Buc, that’s a cool name. Hey, Buc!” he repeats as he ruffles his head.

  “So are you from around here?” I ask, making small talk. Maybe he has some stories about the area.

  “I was actually, born and raised here. I live in the old factory lofts off of South Washington Street.”

  “Really? I just moved into that building yesterday. What a coincidence.”

  “Oh, that was you? I saw that someone was moving in. That is a coincidence. Well, nice to meet you…um, I forgot your name, sorry.”

  “I don’t think I told you.” I laugh. “I’m sorry, my name is Sarah Finny,” I say as I pull into the Visitor Center. It didn’t take us very long to get here since there are not very many people out.

  “Well, it’s nice to meet you. I’m the blue truck over there.” He points to a nice Toyota pickup truck.

  I stop the Jeep behind his truck. He opens the door and struggles to get out. He winces as he puts weight on his ankle.

  “Are you sure you’re going to be all right driving with your leg like that?” I inquire. If he can’t put any weight on his right foot, it may make it a bit hard to use the gas pedal.

  “To tell you the truth, I think I may have hurt it a bit worse than I thought I had. Do you have a cell? I can call my buddy to come and pick me up.”

  “Sure.” I dig my phone out of my back pocket and hand it to him. He dials. “Why don’t you sit back down? I’ll move the Jeep into a parking space so I’m not blocking traffic.” He nods and sits down and shuts the door.

  “Hey, it’s Bruce…I had to barrow a phone, mine ran out of batteries again…yes, I know it’s time for a new phone.” He looks at me, smiles, and rolls his eyes. He has gorgeous light green eyes and light brown hair. He has a sprinkling of a beard and mustache and a beautiful smile. “Hey, can you come pick me up from the Visitor Center?…yes, the Gettysburg Visitor Center…I was doing one of the trails and ate it. I may have sprained my ankle…I hitched a ride back to the truck, but I can’t put any weight on it…okay, thanks. We’re in lot one…see you soon.”

  He hands me my phone. “Thanks, Benny will be here in about fifteen minutes. I can wait in my truck if you want.”

  “Hey, stay off your foot. I don’t have anywhere to be. No reason to add more stress to your ankle.” I smile at him. He seems like a nice guy, good-looking, too. He looks fit in his shorts and T-shirt, nice muscular legs, even if he did trip over a rock.

  “Thanks, I really appreciate it. So what were you doing out in the Wheatfield?”

  “I’m doing some work for the Gettysburg Historical Society. I’m an artist. They had seen some of my work and wanted to see what I would come up with at the battlefields.”

  “That sounds interesting. Is that what you were doing out there today?”

  “Yes, or at least that’s what I was trying to do.” I look down at my hands, embarrassed.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I didn’t get what I was hoping for, that’s all. I’ll go back out again in a few days. I need to explore the area more to get the feel for the place. That will make my head be in the right direction.”

  “Well, if you ever need a guide, let me know. I do the guided car tours, part time at least. I was a history major in college, and the Civil War was my forte.”

  “That would be great! That was one of the things I wanted to check out next, actually.”

  “Here.” He reaches into his back pocket and produces his wallet. He hands me his business card. “Here is my card. Call or email me anytime. I owe you for your help today.” He smiles. God, what a great smile.

  “It was no problem, really. I’m sure you would have done the same if the tables were turned.”

  We turn when we see a beat-up red truck pull up behind Bruce’s truck. The truck is blaring AC/DC’s “Back in Black,” with who I assume is Benny singing as loud as he can, along with the band. “Well, that would be Benny.” He rolls his eyes. “Hey, thanks again for all your help. And please, call anytime. And maybe I will see you around the lofts!”

  “I will, and we shall see.”

  He opens the door and struggles out. “Hey, Benny, I’m over here,” he hollers over to his friend.

  I watch as Benny hops out of his truck, somehow hearing Bruce over his radio, and jogs over to help his friend. “Dude, what the hell did you trip over?”

  “Don’t ask. It was a stupid mistake. Hey, Benny, this is Sarah. She saved my life,” he teases with a wink.

  Benny is good-looking, too. His hair is a bit longer and darker than Bruce’s. He looks as if maybe he works in construction or something having to be done with his hands. He’s not dirty looking but looks like he works hard. “Hi, Sarah. Nice to meet you. Thanks for saving the klutz here. I have to tell you, this guy is a clumsy one.” He howls as Br
uce punches him in the arm.

  “Nice to meet you, Benny. Well, Bruce, I hope you feel better soon, and I’ll get in contact with you about that tour. Take care of yourselves,” I add as I back out of the space.

  As I do so I can hear Benny joking with Bruce about how hot I am. I laugh and shake my head as I drive away. I move toward home, figuring that it’s getting late, and I’m losing my light anyway.

  When I get back to the lofts, I take Buc for a long walk around the neighborhood before heading inside.

  Chapter 5

  After dinner, I make my way back out to get everything out of the Jeep, and set it up in the living room. I want to look over the picture I drew today. I still can’t get it or the Wheatfield out of my mind. It’s strange, almost feels like I’m being drawn to it rather than me drawing it.

  Once I get all set up, I take a closer look at what I’ve drawn. The details in the uniform are well defined. I have seen Union uniforms before, but I never spent very much time studying them. I couldn’t begin to tell you anything about them, other than their color. That being said, I’m not sure how I got these details for the uniform. It makes no sense, especially without having someone in uniform standing in front of me. How odd.

  After staring at my drawing for a while, I need some fresh air. So Buc and I set out to explore our new neighborhood some more. The air is a bit cool, but as long as we keep a steady pace, I should be all right. The nights, I have noticed, are very quiet. Granted, it is the middle of the week, and it is pretty late. The night is very dark. No moon tonight, but tons of stars can be seen. The complex I live in has a small dog park, so I let Buc off his leash and let him run and explore. I find a park bench and sit to admire the stars. It’s surprising how many you can see being in the country. I’ve lived many places over the years, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many. The park has a light post here and there. But the one closest to me is out.