Last Ghost at Gettysburg (10 page)

“Hurry up and get in, you two,” he said,
obviously agitated. “What took you so long to call? I was about to
put in a missing person’s report!”

“Oh, Daddy,” said LouAnne, disarming him with
a kiss on the cheek as she slid into the front seat. “You worry too
much.”

Chapter Twelve

“FAR OUT!” Bortnicker cried so loud that T.J.
had to hold LouAnne’s cell phone away from his ear. “A Confederate
ghost rider, you say?”

“I said I’m not sure.”

“Oh, c’mon, now, T.J., I can hear it in your
voice. You think he’s a spook! Admit it!”

“Well, I’m leaning that way –”

“TOO COOL! I told you this would be a great
vacation for you. And how’s your female relative? Still her dorky
self?”

T.J. looked across the room at his cousin,
sitting in the guest room window’s alcove, deep in concentration
as she applied a coat of clean polish to her toenails, her blond
tresses cascading over the straps of her pink halter top.

“Hey, are you there, my brother?”

“Yeah, yeah, Bortnicker, I’m here. I mean,
we’re here.”

“Oh, I get it, Big Mon. She’s within earshot.
I catch your drift. So, back to our Johnny Reb. What’s your plan of
attack, if you’ll pardon my pun?” Steely Dan’s “Katy Lied” was
playing in the background.

T.J. shut his eyes and took a deep breath,
remembering just how annoying his friend could be. Bortnicker was
probably perched on his bed right now, surrounded by half-eaten
saltines and dog earned train magazines, watching
History’s
Mysteries
or
Ancient Almanac
.

“That’s just it. I, uh, want to meet up with
this, uh, guy again, but, like, despite everything I’ve been
learning down here, I just don’t know enough about his world to
relate to him. I’m afraid if I say or do the wrong thing he’ll do
some serious harm to me.”

“So, what is it you’re saying?”

“Well, ah, I checked with my uncle and, ah,
when could you get down here?”

There was a brief pause. “What time is it
now?”

* * * *

The next day was Sunday, and though it was an
official day of rest from running, T.J. put the morning to good use
by reading some of the books about Gettysburg that Mike had laying
around the house. Especially helpful was a picture book entitled
Gettysburg Then and Now
which presented numerous sites as
they appeared today versus photos taken immediately after the
battle. He was able to start making mental connections to many of
the tour bus stops from the previous day.

At precisely 4:00 P.M. he and LouAnne stood
together in the Gettysburg town square as the charter bus from
Philadelphia disgorged its contents. Bortnicker was among the last
to disembark, an overstuffed duffel bag slung over his bony
shoulder. He stepped upon the pavement, dropped his bag, and
started warbling a line from
The Dan
about a guy getting
insulted about his shoes.

“ ‘
Pretzel Logic,’ ” LouAnne stated,
stepping up to greet him, her hand outstretched.

Bortnicker turned beet red, his mouth
literally falling open. “You...you’re LouAnne?” he managed, his
gaze going everywhere at once. “You know...‘Pretzel Logic?’ ”

“From the album of the same name, I believe,”
she replied airily.

Bortnicker took her hand and fell to one
knee. “You are a goddess. I am not worthy,” he intoned, as if
waiting to be knighted.

“Jeez Louise, Bortnicker,” moaned T.J., “will
you cut it out and get up? At least
try
to act halfway
normal.”

Bortnicker rose, grinning sheepishly, his
bangs hanging in front of his tortoise shell glasses.

“Oh, I don’t know, Cuz,” said LouAnne,
hefting the dusty duffel bag, “I think he’s kinda cute.”

T.J. shook his head in disgust. “Don’t
encourage him.”

They started back towards Seminary Ridge,
Bortnicker’s head continuously swiveling, taking in all the shops,
eateries and bullet-pocked row houses. It was why he did so well in
school, despite his eccentricities. Bortnicker had a way of taking
a mental inventory of everything around him to the smallest
detail, especially if it was of interest to him. And, boy, was he
interested.

“How’d you get here so fast?” asked LouAnne
as they climbed along Buford Avenue toward Seminary Ridge.

“It was easy. The Internet is such a great
tool that I had it mapped out within minutes. I took the New Haven
Line into Grand Central, the Amtrak to Philly, and then picked up a
tour bus to here. I’d never done Amtrak before. Way cool! Has T.J.
told you I’m big into model railroading?”

“No,” replied LouAnne. “We really didn’t have
much time for that. Your mom’s okay with you coming down here
alone, just like that?”

“Oh, yeah. She likes when I do grownup stuff
like this. Plus, I just spent some time with her up in Boston and I
think she needed a break from me. I can’t imagine why,” he added
wryly, and LouAnne smiled. T.J. just frowned.

“Well, Bortnicker,” she said, “my parents are
fine with you bunking with T.J. in the guest room. They were
worried that he was getting a little homesick, anyway.” She looked
at her cousin who rolled his eyes in embarrassment.

“Homesick
?” cried Bortnicker.
“
Here?
With all this going on? We’ve got a major mystery to
solve, it seems to me. When T.J. gave me the basics on the phone, I
was so jacked I couldn’t sit still! Even if my mom had said no, I
would’ve bugged out anyway. No way I’m missing this. It’s the
adventure of a lifetime!”

“Easy, man,” cautioned T.J. “We’ve got to
think things through before we decide on a plan of action.”

“Don’t worry, Big Mon.” Bortnicker pulled a
loose-leaf notebook from his duffel bag. “As
The Dan
said,
‘the true facts unravel the more one travels.’” He suddenly turned
to LouAnne. “Name THAT one!”

“ ‘
Show Biz Kids,’ ” she said
sweetly.

“Ooh, you’re good,” he answered, handing the
notebook to T.J. “I wrote down a lot of thoughts about this on the
train. Check it out.”

T.J. thumbed through the pages, which were
mostly filled with Civil War-related minutiae and questions that
must’ve come flying into Bortnicker’s mind a mile a minute. He had
filled at least twenty pages! “Wow,” he mumbled, “you’re really on
it, Bortnicker.”

“Isn’t that why you called me?”

“Guess so.”

“Okay, then,” he said, the physical exertion
of walking causing him to breathe raggedly. Bortnicker hardly ever
exercised or gave an effort in phys ed. The one year he’d played
little league on T.J.’s team he’d contented himself with
instantaneously computing everyone’s batting averages and compiling
the team’s highest on-base percentage by managing to get hit with
the ball almost every time up.

“As I see it, here is what we have to do. If
this is a ghost we’re dealing with, because we’re still not sure, I
think we should drop in on the foremost expert in town on
hauntings. Now, LouAnne, you must know that if you surf the net
you’ll find at least three different ghost tour outfits. They’ve
got candlelight tours, sunset tours, walking tours, riding tours,
in town and on the outskirts of the battlefield. But the one that’s
always on the History Channel is run by this guy, Carlton Elway.
Know him?”

“We’ve crossed paths,” said LouAnne. “My dad
runs into him a lot around town. Seems to me like kind of a
know-it-all, but an okay guy.”

“Well, he’s done a three-part TV series on
all the hauntings around Gettysburg, and if anyone has info on our
nocturnal cavalier, it’s this guy. Unless he’s just a big fake, of
course. I say we go see him first thing tomorrow.”

“You guys will have to go by yourselves,”
said LouAnne, “I’m babysitting at ten.”

“Okay then, Big Mon.” Bortnicker smiled,
clapping his hand on T.J.’s shoulder. “It’s just you n’me. Hey, are
we there yet?” They had been passing Bortnicker’s duffel bag around
and it was getting heavier by the minute.

Finally they reached Seminary Ridge and the
Darcy residence. Their new lodger introduced himself all around
with “Please just call me Bortnicker. Everyone else does,” and the
ensuing dinner table conversation over Aunt Terri’s pot roast was
lively. Bortnicker could be charming in his own quirky way, and he
kept the Darcys laughing with his self-deprecating humor. At one
point, LouAnne was laughing so hard she had to dab at her eyes with
a napkin. T.J. felt himself doing a slow burn. He couldn’t believe
his relatives were finding his friend so entertaining. Especially
LouAnne. And then the thought occurred to him.
Can I actually be
jealous? Of Bortnicker?

They lingered around the table till after
9:00 P.M., when Mike pronounced himself ready to hit the sack.

“Me, too,” Bortnicker replied with a huge
yawn. “I haven’t slept in twenty-four hours.”

LouAnne and T.J. made arrangements to run the
following morning and the boys climbed the stairs to the guest
room. Not one word about the real reason for Bortnicker’s presence
had been spoken during the meal, as per T.J.’s orders. T.J closed
the guest room door behind him, mentally prepared for an onslaught
of questions about the mystery, although the three teens had gone
over the whole thing on the walk home. Thus, he was unprepared for
Bortnicker’s opening.

“T.J., do you think there’s really such a
thing as love at first sight?”

“Wh...what?” he replied, stunned.

“Your cousin is the most enchanting creature
I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he said, unashamedly dreamy-voiced.
“Surely you’ve noticed that she’s drop-dead gorgeous.”

“Bortnicker, man, of course not, she’s my
cousin!” T.J. said, somewhat defensively, lying through his
teeth.

“Well, Big Mon, my new goal in life, besides
of course getting to the bottom of this investigation, is to win
the hand of yon fair maiden. That is, if you have no objections?”
He brushed the hair from his eyes, which gleamed with
expectation.

“Of course not. Why would I?”

“Okay, just checking. It’s just that at
dinner tonight you seemed a little edgy, like maybe you weren’t
enjoying yourself. Was it because of me? Do you think maybe it was
a bad idea I came down here? Because when you called—”

“I know, I know,” said T.J., raising his hand
to stop Bortnicker before his best friend threw it all back in his
face. “It’s just...” he paused, searching for the right words,
“it’s just that sometimes you come on a bit too strong, like with
that kneeling down routine with LouAnne.”

“Well,
SHE
seemed to like it.”

“Yeah, well, at first it’s okay, I suppose,
but the novelty kind of wears off after a while.”

Bortnicker made his way to a corner chair and
absentmindedly went into perch mode, his chin resting on his knees.
“I get what you’re saying,” he mumbled. “As you well know, I don’t
have a ton of experience talking to girls.”

“Like I do?”

“Oh, c’mon, T.J., lots of girls at school
like you. I wish I was a quarter as popular as you.”

“You’re overestimating me. Listen, what I’m
saying is, just tone it down, at least at first. It’s not like
you’re leaving tomorrow or something.”

“You mean you want me to stay?” Bortnicker
queried, his eyebrows raised.

“Yes, of course I do. We’ve got a mystery to
solve, don’t we?”

Bortnicker sprang from the chair. “Exactly!
And it begins tomorrow. One more thing, though. What you saw the
other night in the woods. Did it scare you?”

T.J. thought, pinching the bridge of his nose
with his fingers, recalling that awful smell that had signaled the
appearance of the soldier. “I’ve never been so scared in my life,”
he said finally. Embarrassed over admitting his fear, T.J. excused
himself to go brush his teeth. When he returned, the room was dark,
his friend already tucked into the second guest bed. T.J. tiptoed
to his bed and quietly slipped beneath the covers. There was a
gentle breeze blowing, and crickets chirped outside the window.

Bortnicker cleared his throat. “T.J.?”

“Yeah?”

“Did I ever tell you I have a snoring
problem?”

Chapter Thirteen

The day dawned, gloomy and chilly, almost a
relief from the oppressive heat of the past week. T.J. stealthily
pulled on his running gear and tiptoed past a snoring Bortnicker to
the staircase where LouAnne sat atop the bottom step, lacing on her
Nikes. He was still a bit miffed about his friend’s grand entrance
of the day before, and hoped his cousin wouldn’t mention it. He was
wrong.

“So, what’s going on with you and
Bortnicker?” she asked as they jogged away from the house. “It
looked like you had a bug up your butt the whole time during
dinner.”

“Nothing. Everything’s cool. He just gets on
my nerves sometimes. He doesn’t even know he’s doing it,
probably.”

“He looks up to you, you know. Did you ever
think of that?” she said in an admonishing tone.

“What? Did he say something to you?”

“He didn’t have to, T.J. I can see it in his
eyes. You must be his best friend.”

“Only friend,” muttered T.J.

“Which is all the more reason to cut him some
slack. And don’t be so quick to put him down when he tries to be
whatever he interprets as ‘smooth.’ He needs you to look out for
him, not rag on him.”

“I
do
look out for him,” he cried
plaintively. “Like at school this year. Bortnicker liked this girl,
Kimberly LaFarge. So we have this eighth grade dance every year
near Valentine’s Day, and he had this flower company deliver her a
big bouquet of roses that came with candy, the whole nine yards,
right in the middle of homeroom! With an invitation, of course, for
her to go to the dance with him.”

“And?”

“And she blew him off! What did you expect?
The whole day she and her popular girl clique were snickering and
passing notes and laughing themselves silly. When he realized that
he looked like a clown he just, like, hid out for a while in the
book room. So anyway, we had Spanish together that afternoon and
our teacher, Miss Simoes, sent me to look for him before she phoned
the office.