Showing posts with label Civil War novels. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Civil War novels. Show all posts

Friday, July 13, 2012

FINDING THE WAY HOME



During the Civil War, no doubt soldiers longed for home the way it existed before the War. Many men lost their home and family members. In my family, a Unionist sympathizing Georgia patriarch had to move his family twice to avoid harassment and threats of physical harm by Southern sympathizers. He also had to serve in the Confederacy due to the threats of a local bully, but my relative was discharged early due to age and injuries and paroled home. At the end of the War, he’d lost his primary home, animals, and furnishings, but his family survived.

In the Civil War, more men died than in any other war in which the United States has been involved. That’s a staggering statistic. Thinking of all the women who lost loved ones, who became spinsters because there simply were not enough men left of marrying age (no wonder they signed up as mail-order brides), and the damaged men who did return is sad. Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome was called battle fatigue, and thought usually to be temporary, No one knew how to treat severe cases.

Drawing Rations, Andersonville Prison


Prisons on both sides were horrendous. Many who survived lost so much weight they were skeletal. Often they were without coats in freezing weather, some without even shoes. We hate foreign countries who do to our soldiers what our own countrymen did in the Civil War.

Soldiers who were not so fortunate as my family chose several options after the War’s end. Some, like mine, returned home to reclaim as much as they could. Some traveled West, like several members of my family did later to seek a better life. Others became outlaws like the Quantrell or Murrell’s Raiders, using their army training to rampage and wreak destruction. Others formed the Ku Klux Klan, and I’m sad to admit a few of my family were involved in that terrible group over a ten year period.  Ah well, with ancestry, you take what you're issued.

Loosely based on my family’s Wartime experiences, I conceived a novella set near the end of the War. The heroine is Parmelia Bailey, and she has promised the men in her family she will watch over the other women until they return. As the War approaches, she slips through a blockade to rescue her brother’s fiancée Sarah Hardeman and Sarah’s mother and sisters. Unfortunately, Parmelia is caught by Darrrick McDonald, the man with whom she’s been in love most of her life...but he’s returned wearing a Union uniform!

I'm thinking of reworking the cover's fonts.
What do you think?


Here’s the blurb for LONG WAY HOME:

Parmelia Bailey has promised to keep her family safe until the men in her family return from War. That includes bringing her brother’s fiancée, Sarah Hardeman, and Sarah’s mother and sisters to stay at her grandmother’s home in town. Maybe she shouldn’t have stolen back her horses from the Yankees, but she could think of no other way to rescue the Hardeman women.

Darrick McDonald waited four years to return to Witherspoon, Georgia and Parmelia. Who would have dreamed war would bring him back. He had to protect Parmelia from a renegade who’d vowed to make her sorry she’d turned down his proposal. He prayed he wasn’t too late.

Here’s an excerpt from LONG WAY HOME:

At last, she turned into her grandparents’ drive and pulled around to the back. With a huge sigh, she stopped at the carriage house. Surely a week had passed since she caught her horses last night. All she wanted now was to crawl in bed and sleep for days, pretend the war never happened. She couldn’t relax yet, not until the horses were back with those Yankee scoundrels.”

“Sarah, let’s see your mother and sisters inside. After that, Rob and I will deal with the chickens and cow.” Parmelia’s hands shook as she climbed out of the buggy. Fatigue, relief, and fear turned her limbs to jam.

She walked Sarah and her family to the back door where Grammy and Mama took over.

Parmelia returned to the carriage house. “Rob, help me unhitch the horses and put their bridles on so I can take them back.”

“Why don’t I do that.” Darrick McDonald stepped from the shadows. He appeared calm, until she looked at his face.

Parmelia was surprised sparks didn’t shoot from his dark eyes and ignite the entire carriage house. She clutched her throat, hoping a way out of this predicament would come to her. How had he known to come here, to wait for her?

“Darrick, you—you gave me a fright.”

“Did I? Perhaps you have a guilty conscience.” He freed one of the horses.

“When did you come back?” She fought for an idea, but none came to her.

“Late yesterday.” He walked back and forth beside Lady. “Funny thing, you having two horses after the Army confiscated all the livestock in town. Another coincidence, two Army horses went missing overnight.”

“Did they?”

He stopped and gave her a piercing look.

She gave up with a sigh. “I can explain.”

“I’m listening.” His eyes were still dark with anger.

“My brother’s fiancée. You remember Sarah Hardeman? I had to bring her and her family to town. I—I had no way to do that without a team.”

Rob added, “These are our horses anyway. You low down, yellow-bellied Yankees stole them from us.”

Oh, Lord. Leave it to her brother to make things worse.

“Hush, Rob. Give me the bridles. Put the cow in the barn then come help me with these chickens.”

He pouted and handed over the tack. “Oh, all right. I never get to hear anything good.” Rob untied the cow and stomped toward the barn.

“So, you’re a Yankee officer now.”

“Captain.” Darrick crossed his arms. “I’m waiting for an explanation, Parmelia.”

Her temper conquered her good sense, and she stepped toward him. “You’ve got your nerve, coming here wearing that uniform, you...you traitor.”

He stepped forward until they were almost touching. “Call me what you will, but you’re the one who stole two horses in a time of war.”

She refused to retreat. “How can you accuse me of stealing, when you Yankees have taken over our town?”

“Because you did steal them, and you weren’t even clever about it. I followed their tracks to your grandparents’ home. You do realize that with a less sympathetic Colonel, they could lose their home?”

Dear heaven, she hadn’t considered her grandparents if she were caught.

“No!” She took a step backward. “I was going to return them. Rob’s right, they are ours. They know me, so they were eager to come to me.”

He pulled a small, withered apple from his pocket.

Rats, she must have dropped it, one of the few from their store of fruit in the cellar.

Darrick held the apple in front of her nose. “Looks to me as if you coaxed them away.”

She sighed, “Maybe I did, but it was only to use them for a little while. Sarah and her family were in great peril.”

He tossed the apple from one hand to the other, but stared at her face. “Are you crazy? You could have been killed.”

She grabbed the apple from him. “Sarah, her mother, and sisters could have been murdered and their home burned. We barely got away in time as it is.”

“If you had bothered to consult the Colonel, he would have sent soldiers for them. As it turns out, I would have taken my men and gone.”

“Are you crazy? You could have been killed.”

Shocked at the concern in her voice and in her heart, she continued, “Um, I mean, they might not have recognized you and could have shot you. Or, that man that tried to take my horse could have killed you.”

Oh, no, she hadn’t meant to tell that last part.

He grew angrier and grabbed her arms. “What do you mean?

She tried to twist away. “Nothing.”

“Parmelia Bailey, who tried to take your horse?” He turned her to face him.

Refusing to meet his gaze, she stammered, “There, um, there was a man in the woods, a ways north of the Mitchell’s house. He…um, he jumped at me and tried to take Beauty, but Rob and I got away.”

“You are the stubbornest, orneriest woman I’ve ever known. Don’t you realize what could have happened to you?”

“It crossed my mind,” she snapped and raised her face.

“If you were mine, I’d, I’d...”

“Yours? You moved away and left me, remember? And now you’re a Yankee officer.” Lord, she shouldn’t have reminded him she’d loved him. Worse, she still loved him.

She willed tears not to fall. Keep your anger up, don’t let him know how he hurt you.

“You know why I left Witherspoon. You know I had no choice.”

“There’s always a choice.” And she would have chosen to go with him, if only he’d asked, even if she had been only sixteen.

“Like you chose to steal these horses?”

She shrugged away from his grasp. “Steal? Soldiers stole them from us. Do you understand the term borrow? That’s what I did.”

“In times of war, the government has the power to confiscate items from civilians. Do you understand that?”

“Call it what you wish, it’s still stealing when you take what’s not yours and keep it.”

“Maybe we’re only borrowing your horses.”

She thought his mouth twitched to hide a smile. His humor only irked her more.

“Like you Yankees borrowed from the stores in town so we can’t even buy supplies—that is, if we had money. Which we don’t.”

He smiled. “I heard you had plenty of those Confederate dollars.”

“Oh, you...you Yankees make me so mad. Take my horses and leave.” She turned and stomped toward the house.

He called, “Aren’t you going to invite me in to say hello to the family? Maybe you could bake me an apple pie.”

She slammed the kitchen door and leaned against it. His laughter floated around her.

From the front of the house, she heard Mrs. Hardeman complaining and Mamma and Grammy’s soft, soothing answers. She wondered how much of Mrs. Hardeman’s grousing they’d have to endure.

Parmelia Bailey
Parmelia pushed away from the door, and then remembered those dratted chickens. Peeking through the curtains, she saw Darrick leading the horses away. His long, lean body looked good, his walk a confident swagger. Dark brown hair caught the sunlight. Lordy, he was better looking than he had been four years ago when he lived in Witherspoon.

When he’d touched her just now, she’d sizzled. She’d wanted to throw herself in his arms and have him reassure her, kiss her, love her. How could he create these sensations inside her when he’d abandoned her four years ago? When now he sided with their enemies?

She jumped when Sarah came up to her.

“Parmelia, is something wrong?”

“I—I just remembered the chickens is all. I’ll get Rob to help me get them down and into the chicken coop.”

“Nonsense. My sisters and I will do it. You look all worn out. You must have ridden most of the night.”

She shrugged. “I’m all right. We started for your place close to midnight.”

Sarah’s dark eyes sparkled. “Did you really take those horses from the Yankees?”

“Yes, but they’re on their way back to those thieves now. Darrick McDonald was waiting for them in Grammy’s barn.”

“Darrick?” Sarah touched Parmelia’s arm. “Oh, Parmelia. Is he still as handsome?”

She sighed, hating to admit the truth. “More. And taller. He sure fills out his uniform, too, but it’s blue.”

“Oh.” Sarah paused. “But he’s here, and you talked to him. That’s something, isn’t it?”

Before Parmelia had to answer, Rob slammed inside the kitchen. “That old cow’s still upset. Am I supposed to milk her or what?”

“I’ll get the pail for you.” Parmelia retrieved it from the screened in porch. “The stool’s still in the barn.” She clasped her hands. “Fresh milk. Oh, that will be wonderful. We’ve been without it for a month.”

Rob called, “We got to have hay.”

“Maybe she can eat the lawn tomorrow. I’ll try to barter some hay.” But who had any supplies except the Yankees? Sighing, she went back into the kitchen. She simply could not deal with another crisis today.

“I took off my extra clothes, but my hair’s a mess.” Sarah stood at a small mirror over the washstand and smoothed curls of brown hair from her face. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t think my teachers at Thorndike Academy of Young Women would approve of my appearance.”

Parmelia looked at herself over Sarah’s shoulder, then gasped. What must Darrick have thought of her? She told herself she didn’t care then admitted she did. She’d been so careful about her appearance when he’d called on her years ago. He must think she’d turned into a hoyden. Peering at her rough hands and broken nails, she thought maybe she had. Oh, what did it matter?

Forcing back tears and regrets, she pulled at her men’s britches and curtsied to Sarah. “I don’t think anyone from Mrs. Carrington’s School for Young Ladies would even speak to me.”

They broke into giggles and went in search of Katie and Nancy.


If this tempted you to purchase LONG WAY HOME, it’s available as an ebook from

Smashwords at
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/108471?ref=CarolineClemmons

and Amazon at
http://www.amazon.com/LONG-WAY-HOME-ebook/dp/B005HQYUSK/ref=sr_1_9?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1342108242&sr=1-9&keywords=caroline+clemmons

If you read this book and enjoy it, please leave a favorable review on Smashwords or Amazon. I’ll sincerely appreciate your effort!

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Thanks for reading!



Wednesday, April 13, 2011

ENLIST OR ELSE!

I’m late posting today. Somewhere, I lost a day due to a hectic, crazy weekend and week. Now I realize it’s Wednesday.

Nancy (nee Wood) and
William Harrison Johnson
circa 1885
What is going on
with her hair?
 Commemorating the start of the Civil War still, today I want to post about an ancestor who fought in the war. He didn’t want to. This man, William Harrison Johnson, believed he should mind his own business and take care of his farm and family. He truly believed he could get away with taking care of his own and letting everyone else do the same. Nope, didn’t work.

A distant relative, a villainous man who shall remain nameless here, confronted Johnson and told him that if he did not enlist in the Confederacy, his farm would be burned, his wife and daughters raped and killed, and his sons would be killed. Johnson knew this man meant it, because he had the reputation to back up the claim. The relative was one mean sonofagun! But that’s another story - an interesting but long one I'll save for another time or for a book.

Thomas Vestal Johnson
William Harrison Johnson and his sons William Riley and Thomas Vestal enlisted. Riley went to a neighboring town with friends, but Thomas (who was barely sixteen) enlisted with his father in the Sardis Volunteers. Early into the war, William and Thomas were separated. William served in Virginia, Maryland, Tennessee, Kentucky, and the Battle of Chicamauga, GA. He was hospitalized in Atlanta. When Sherman approached Atlanta, William hurried to move his parents and sister Caroline away from the city to Northwest Georgia where he lived. Definitely not heroic--unless you were an elderly couple or the daughter caring for them. William lived until 1899 and is buried in Rome, Georgia.

Thomas continued to do what he saw as his duty. Among the battles in which he fought were Gettysburg and the Second Battle of Manassas. Once the war was over, he vowed never to fire another gun. He married Sarah Bailey and they had a son. After only a few years, Sarah died of childbed fever. Luckily for me, Thomas remarried. Eleven years after the end of the Civil War, Thomas and his brother James came to Texas. James went back to Georgia, but Thomas and his new wife and baby remained near Waco.

This 150th anniversary has many engaging in heated and serious debates about the justification and causes of the Civil War. Not me. For good or ill, it’s a part of our history but we don’t want to repeat it. Regardless of the pros and cons, we need to study it to protect our peace and our freedom.

“Those who don’t study history are doomed to repeat it.”

from The Wild Rose Press
My story, LONG WAY HOME, in the Civil War anthology NORTHERN ROSES AND SOUTHERN BELLES is very loosely based on my family in Northwest Georgia and is the only non-Texas setting I’ve ever used. I fictionalized Rome, Georgia, but I remember visiting the town. Lovely setting and probably a nice place in which to live.

Friday, I’ll write about another aspect of the Civil War.

Thanks for stopping by.

Friday, November 26, 2010

Mary Ann Webber, Author Interview

Mary Ann Webber
Like many authors, Mary Ann Webber began writing fiction in elementary school. Writing took a backseat as life became her biggest challenge. She wanted it all—marriage, home, children, grandchildren, teaching career in Virginia and Arkansas. Her early life experiences now add depth to her current characters. During the years her writing was on hold, she collected history books related to periods she found fascinating. As a result, she often spends more time researching than writing. After early retirement, she moved to Dallas to be near her children and grandchild and immersed herself in writing.



NO DECORUM, in the anthology NORTHERN ROSES AND SOUTHERN BELLES, is Mary Ann’s first novella for The Wild Rose Press.

Caroline: Mary Ann, how did you come up with the idea for NO DECORUM?



Mary Ann: I’ve spent time in Camden, Arkansas, and I’ve visited the grounds of the Chidester House, where the yearly Civil War reenactments take place, so I have a real feel for the area.

McCollum-Chidester House,
now a museum
A few years ago, I was surprised to learn the Union forces under General Steele occupied Camden for only eleven days. While the bloody Red River Campaign of 1864 raged through Arkansas and Louisiana, the Confederate and Union forces jockeyed in and out of position in Camden.

What can happen in the span of eleven days? I decided to pack as much life into this time as I could, and the story wrote itself while I continued my research.

This is unlike anything I’ve ever put on paper. The heroine is an innocent - but headstrong - teenage girl. Unlike my usual heroines, she seems to call the shots with everyone around her. Only a heroine like Juliet could make so much happen in such a short time.

2011 EPIC Finalist
2009 Preditors and Editors Top Ten
at Number 6

Caroline:  Tell us about your writing schedule. Do you write full time?

Mary Ann: My stories pop into my conscious mind as full blown movies, in living color, complete with soaring music, sound effects, and the highest paid actors. I have no idea how it happens. The characters arrive and do their jobs. I scramble to find the right words and put it all down on paper. This never happens on any sort of schedule.

I write full time in the sense that I have no longer have an outside job, such as the twenty-two years I spent teaching in public schools.

Some writers switch on their writing muse when they turn on their computers, but I have a muse who thinks she’s a prima donna. “Dahling, must we do this every morning?” she groans. Then I remind her how many camera crews and actors are waiting for us and how we need some royalty checks. She usually sighs and crawls out of bed.

Caroline: LOL Love your attitude, Mary Ann. Your muse's sister must be my muse.  Is there a reason you’re drawn to the Civil War era?

Mary Ann: My ancestors fought on both sides in the War Between the States, but probably the real reason is because my sister and I spent years sitting in dark movie houses watching GONE WITH THE WIND. It left us permanently warped. My sister says her husband has no idea how much he owes to his resemblance to Rhett Butler.

Caroline: Perhaps it's best he doesn't know. :-) What else do you have in the works for us?

Mary Ann: I’m working again on my “epic” novel, A MAN AT THE DOOR.

Also, I’m plugging away on five novellas. They’re all historical – except for one, DAKOTA WINDOW. It features time travel inside a Manhattan apartment.

Caroline: Five novellas? Wow! I remember reading part of A MAN AT THE DOOR and loved it! I hope you finish and submit it soon so I can read the rest of the story. Now, though, how about sharing a blurb for NO DECORUM for readers?

Photo of The City of Camden 
paddlewheeler with cotton bales 
headed for New Orleans
Mary Ann: Here’s the blurb:

What can happen in eleven days? In the Civil War, towns could be occupied and reoccupied by opposing armies. And just as quickly, young enemies Juliet and Randolph could fall in love, marry, and be torn apart. This fast moving tale carries a story of sudden infatuation and unending love. It happens when decorum is cast aside.

Caroline: How about an excerpt?

Mary Ann: I have two, one long and one short. Let’s start with the short one:


Ouachita Court House
Confederate Women's
Memorial
Juliet’s voice betrayed her alarm. “What’s wrong? What are you seeing?”


He slowly circled her. “Turn so your back is to the lamp. That’s it. Now I see what it is. Stand very still and lift your arms straight over your head. Right. Now look up at your fingertips.”


In a twinkling, Randolph grabbed the nightgown and whisked it over her head. Juliet stood naked in the middle of the room and Randolph swallowed at the vision. “Now, everything is just as it should be.”


Here’s a longer excerpt:


Randolph lifted the curtain and gazed out the bedroom window. “It’s almost dark. Let’s go have some fun.”


“I thought we were having fun.” Juliet rolled over and looked at him.


He grabbed her hands and pulled her to her feet. “Take off that dress and put on the one you wore to church.” He grinned at her. “Don’t wear anything under it.”


“I don’t think it’ll fit without a corset. What do you have in mind?”


Randolph emerged from the wardrobe with the church dress and tossed it to her. He also threw her a blue shawl. “Here, you’ll need this, too. It’s cool outside.”


“Where do you think we’re going?”


He held a forefinger to his lips. “It’s a secret. We’re going to the church. Wear old shoes. The grass will be wet.”


Juliet was intrigued. She never imagined marriage would be such fun. When Randolph came up with new games or funny roles to assume, she knew his Dolphie side was ready to play. She slipped into the dress and her husband fastened the bodice.


Leaving by the front door so they wouldn’t be seen, they held hands and ran to the unlighted church. Once inside, Randolph whispered, “We don’t know each other’s names.”


Juliet was breathless with excitement. “Yes, Sergeant.” She crept to the back of the church as Randolph moved across the front, bumping into pews.


Reaching the aisle, she moved slowly and deliberately toward the front. If her eyes hadn’t adjusted, she would still have found Randolph, seated as before in the aisle seat of the first pew.


She dropped onto his lap.


He moaned deeper than she’d ever heard him. Recovering, he whispered into her hair, “Young lady, this seat is taken.”


Caroline: LOL I remember that scene. Precious! Mary Ann, thank you so much for visiting with us today.

NORTHERN ROSES AND SOUTHERN BELLES is available from The Wild Rose Press in both print and e-download and is also available from Amazon and other online stores. Please return on Sunday to learn about Susan Macatee.