Tag: civil-war, historical-fiction, historical-romance

‎”He smiled at me and I felt the tenderness only a daughter could feel.

It was not an unusual site to see Negro tenant farmers crossing the intersection of Spring and Barbrick on the way to the cotton warehouse

I stop to brace myself against the walls, which are painted with the fingerprints of family.

Rebel Number Four” is waiting patiently by the door. I named him “Rebel Number Four,” for he is the fourth of his kind I have given the name “Rebel.” To many he may be just a hound dog, but to me he is a champion and a friend to the end.

Today’s breakfast consist of rice and a piece of bread fried in a bit of salt pork grease. At least I have my memories of grand banquets and fine foods, but this is all the children have ever known. I suppose it is best not to have anything to compare.