The Death of a Confederate Colonel

Cover

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Title Page, Copyright

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CONTENTS

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pp. vii-

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

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pp. ix-

The stories in this collection have been published in slightly altered versions in Arkansas, Arkansas; Backbone: A Journal of Women’s Literature; Caprice; Home and Beyond; Our Brothers’ War; The Rio Grande Review; Southern Magazine; The Southern...

Diary of a Union Soldier

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pp. 1-14

DEAD BRANCHES WERE scraping so resolutely across the roof that it was only when the wind slackened that the thud of the cannons echoed up from the grove. But even as she heard the muted guns, she didn’t associate them with an actual engagement, and when...

Slave Quarters

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pp. 15-22

MISS AMY, Little Cicero bad this morning.” Cleo’s matter-of-factness reached through the haze of sleep and mosquito netting. “Miss Amy, Little Cicero some bad.” “All right! All right!” She turned over but didn’t open her eyes. If only they’d let her rest. If only they weren’t constantly pulling at...

Waiting for Gideon Prince

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pp. 23-30

THE FIRE SHRANK into itself, and in another few minutes, the tiny irregular flames would flicker out, would leave her in darkness and allow the chill to spread. But she didn’t stir from the chair to throw on another length of juniper. She didn’t have to look to...

The Death of a Confederate Colonel

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pp. 31-38

IT WAS NEARLY the opium hour. One of the doctors would arrive at nine, and Emily would measure out the twenty drops each soldier could have. She knew they were running low and that the opium tincture would be wasted on the boy whose stump was already granulating, but she would insist anyway, and...

The Mistress

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pp. 39-44

AS FAR AS SHE COULD SEE down the archway of oaks nothing moved in the lane. She let the curtain fall shut, tugged at the tie of her wrapper impatiently. The afternoon was turning warmer, and she could already feel her curls sticking damply to the nape of her...

The Return

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pp. 45-56

August 6 There’s been no rain for weeks now, and the pond is a sluggish green already. It’s actually almost a blessing to be without the horses, which were confiscated last fall. We heard that Braxton’s troop was engaged in another skirmish last week but that the Yankees were solidly beaten back. The Yankees...

The Confederate Wife

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pp. 57-64

MIST LAY BETWEEN the pasture and the hill, a snow mist that ghosted the cedars, obliterated the gentle peaks that usually separated hill and sky. Her breath panted in clouds of mist and she pressed her lips shut against the visible cold while she glanced around the icy room and...

Bringing Travis Home

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pp. 65-70

AS SOON AS THE CLEAR AIR in my nostrils was overpowered by the odors of blood and rotting meat, I knew they’d sent me to the right place. I swallowed hard a couple of times. A man, leaning in a chair balanced on its two back legs just inside the door, was looking at me. “They told me this was the hospital.” I pulled the letter from my...

Leaving Gilead

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pp. 71-161

SARANELL BIRDSONG HUNCHED on the top step of the porch and frowned. “I don’t care about the party, Madison,” she said to the porcelainheaded doll whose cotton body folded on the step beside her. “Who wants to line up and be crushed near to death by dumb crinolines...