Richards Brothers in Gray

Book II the Alternative History Trilogy
1. Auflage 2016
ISBN: 978-1-4835-7758-6
Verlag: BookBaby
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 200 Seiten

The Alternative History Trilogy opened with A Southern Yarn in which R. W. Richards forged new ground in the field of historical fiction. Using a little known trap set by Lee for Grant along the North Anna River, the Yarn reverses the outcome of the War Between the States. The South achieves independence but yields on the issue of slavery. Now comes Book II of the Trilogy, Brothers in Gray, prequel to the Yarn and every bit as unique. This is the first contemporary novel to spotlight the significant contribution of Black Confederate soldiers throughout the War. Here you'll trace the adventures of two young Virginians, one white, the other black, as they go off to War with Stonewall Jackson. Follow the Army of Northern Virginia as it fights its way through the battles of Second Manassas, South Mountain and Sharpsburg (Antietam)!

Autoren/Hrsg.

Richards, R. W.

Leseproben

CHAPTER TWO 1862 The nineteenth of April, 1861, was a fateful day in the lives of all Virginians. Newspapers all over the state had reported on the decision to secede from the United States. Virginia would join ranks with her sister states in the South in the formation of the Confederate States of America. She would quickly become the heart of this new nation and would soon house its government in Richmond. Tom Covington received the news with mixed emotions. Like most people in the South he did not have passionate feelings one way or the other concerning slavery. As a younger man he had reached a personal conviction concerning his own participation in the continuance of the peculiar institution. He had given the Henrys their freedom and land of their own to farm. Secession was another question which generated ambivalence in Covington’s breast. Did such a right exist? He thought the courts offered the most logical forum for such a question to be resolved, but it was painfully obvious no solution would be forthcoming from any legal venue. Fort Sumter had been fired upon. The die had been cast. The clash of arms would prove the only arbiter of secession. On one issue alone did he have strong convictions. He was a Virginian from a long line of Virginians. He would not turn his back on his state. If Virginia chose to join the Confederate States of America, so be it. He now considered himself a citizen of the new nation. At fifty-five years of age he did not think of himself as soldier material. Yet he knew he could make a substantial contribution. The Shenandoah Valley was already shaping up as a strategic piece of geography: by itself it was capable of providing grain to most of the Confederacy. The men who were quickly filling the ranks of newly forming Southern armies would need to eat. Covington would do his small part to feed them. There was but one misgiving which gnawed at Covington’s heart: what of his son, Wil? The boy was eighteen years old now. He was soldier material. How long could he keep his only son away from the army? All over the valley young men were forming regiments. Wil had already asked permission to enlist. Permission had been denied. The Henrys also had mixed emotions regarding the situation in which they found themselves. Regarding slavery there was no question. They desired its abolition. However, as did many white people in the South, they believed slavery would end eventually regardless of what anybody did or said. They viewed themselves as proof of this assertion. They were among 60,000 free blacks within Virginia alone. In fact there were over 150,000 free blacks in the Confederacy prior to the first shedding of blood. The Henrys also thought of themselves as Virginians. They owned a small herd of cattle which grazed on twenty acres of land. They cultivated fifteen acres of wheat and another five of corn. This says nothing of the produce which came from their half-acre vegetable garden. This family would also make a contribution to the fledgling Confederacy. By the spring of 1862 the war had made itself felt on the people of the Shenandoah Valley regardless of their race. Most of the news was ominous. Northern Arkansas and Missouri were lost to the Confederacy. Much of Tennessee and Kentucky felt the oppressive weight of Union boots. Western Virginia had been shorn from the rest of the state. Richmond itself faced the possibility of evacuation in the face of 100,000 federal soldiers moving up the peninsula from Fortress Monroe under the leadership of George McClellan. From one theater alone came news of an optimistic nature. The Valley campaign of Stonewall Jackson consistently generated good news, the kind which made southern hearts soar with renewed hope. Kernstown, Cross Keys, Front Royal, and Winchester were but insignificant dots on a map prior to the outbreak of the war. By early June of 1862 the tiny valley army of Stonewall Jackson had blazed these names into the annals of history forever. Stonewall himself had become a hero in the South, and the mention of his name caused many a northerner to glance fearfully toward the mouth of the Shenandoah Valley. Would this demon burst out of the valley to descend in a rush upon Washington? Was he about to lay waste to Pennsylvania? It was the tenth of June. Perhaps two hours remained till sunset. Tom Covington and Moses Henry had just finished tending to the draft animals and were walking out of the barn anxious for supper after a long day’s work. Each man had cause for satisfaction. Both of their farms were prosperous. The spring planting had been successful. The rains had been good of late, giving the promise of a bumper crop at summer’s end. The fine details of the valley campaign hadn’t been lost on these two men or their sons. After all the campaign had literally been fought at their doorstep. Both men had provided food and shelter for Turner Ashby’s cavalry and Jackson’s foot-sore infantry. They had become used to the sight of Union soldiers trying to corner the elusive Jackson somewhere in the valley. The news of each battle reached their ears long before it found its way into any of the newspapers. They knew that another fight was brewing somewhere near Port Republic some twenty-five miles north of their farms. On this particular day they had allowed their sons to have half a day off. The boys had been gone since noon. “You reckon Sarah’s got that ham ready, Marse Tom?” “Hope so, Moses. I’m about famished.” “Me too.” For a man in his mid-sixties, Moses Henry was still the picture of health. Only his hair and beard betrayed his age. Both had turned snow white. His voice was as deep and resolute as ever, and he walked with a steady gait without the slightest hint of a stoop. “Moses, look there,” gestured Tom. “Here come the boys.” He had pointed down the dirt lane which led from the road to the Covington house. Levi Henry and Wil Covington had just turned off of the road and were ascending the lane at a dead run. “Wonder what set them on fire?” pondered Moses. “Reckon we’re about to find out.” “Ol’ Jack did it again!” exclaimed Wil. He was still trying to regain his breath so the words seemed to be stumbling from his mouth. “He whipped the Yankees at Port Republic! He sent Shields packin’ and left Fremont swingin’ at air!” “That so?” Tom cast a dubious glance at his son. “Yessuh!” Levi volunteered. “We were over at the Ellison place. They had a newspaper from Staunton and we read it ourselves!” “You did, eh?” “Yessuh! And that ain’t all! You tell him, Wil!” “Tell me what?” “News from Richmond!” gasped Wil, “Johnson was wounded pretty bad. Davis put Lee in charge of the army!” “Lee?” asked Moses, “Robert E. Lee?” “Sho’ nuff!” nodded Wil. “He’ll stop McClellan square in his tracks!” “I don’t know about that,” differed the elder Covington. “He didn’t do so well out in the mountains.” “He’ll stop ‘em, Pa. I can feel it!” “Maybe so, I reckon we’ll know soon enough.” Covington paused to regard the two boys who stood before him. What he saw was a source of immense pride. Wil had grown to a fine young man. He was tall and lean with a head full of sandy blond hair. His blue eyes tended to sparkle when he laughed, and he seemed just a little too proud of the faint beginnings of a moustache peeking out above his upper lip. Levi Henry had also grown into a handsome young man. Older than Wil by several weeks, he was decidedly bigger than the Covington boy. The difference was not so much height as it was size. Levi took after his father in that respect. It took but a casual glance to detect the power within his chest and arms. His smooth skin was a deep brown color. He had a round face with deep-set pensive eyes. He sported a moustache Wil could never hope to match. “I’m more concerned about what’s goin’ on out here in the valley,” continued the elder Covington, “Jackson has surely worked wonders. Are the Yanks clearin’ out?” “Don’t know, Pa. Rumors are flyin’ right now. Some folks are sayin’ Lincoln’s gettin’ worried about Washington. They say he’s gonna pull his troops north. We may not see too many Yankees for a while.” “That’ll suit me fine,” said Moses. “Me too,” agreed Tom. “Pa, there’s something I gotta tell you.” The change in Wil’s tone sent a shiver of fear up his father’s spine. “Can it wait till after supper?” “No, suh.” “Sounds serious.” “I can’t sit around watchin’ it any longer, Pa. I’m joinin’ up.” “I’m goin’ with him,” added Levi before either of the older men had a chance to absorb Wil’s words. Tom and Moses looked at one another, neither knowing how to respond. Both had been stunned speechless. “Did you hear me, Pa?” pressed Wil...