Prologue

PROLOGUE

Civil War—October 1864

Rockingham County, Shenandoah Valley

" K atherine. They're coming." Pa swung his rifle over his shoulder and grimaced. The gun slipped to the floor. With jerky movements, he retrieved the weapon.

"Pa, your shoulder."

"Go, girl, and do exactly as we planned."

Through the window, the smoke from the neighbor's house, a cloud of ominous black, darkened the distant horizon. She glanced back at her pa, torn between helping her ma and sisters and him. Her heart leapt into her throat as he fumbled with his rifle. What could he really do against a group of soldiers? He could barely hold a gun.

"Katie, get moving. I'll be on the porch."

She shot forward, stumbling on the hem of her dress as she ran toward the kitchen. "Ma, we gotta go." She snatched up her trusty rifle hung above the back door, and felt for the revolver she kept hidden under her dress.

Ma was stuffing a pillowcase with food. A loaf of bread fell through her trembling hands and tumbled to the floor. Katie's sisters huddled close with wide eyes and tears streaming down their faces.

"Ma, come on." Katie picked up three-year-old Gracie, put an arm around her ma's shoulders, and steered them toward the door. Her three other sisters followed on her heels.

Gracie squirmed, fighting to get down.

"Beckie," Gracie howled. "I need Beckie."

"There's no time," Ma said.

Katie thrust Gracie into Ma's arms. "I'll find it. We can't have her screaming."

Katie placed her hands on both sides of Gracie's small round face and leaned in. "I'll get your doll if you promise to obey Ma and do everything she says. Understand?"

Gracie whimpered. Her thumb went into her mouth.

"Ma, take the girls. I'll find the doll."

Katie raced from room to room. She swallowed hard against the knot of fear rising in her throat. Where is that doll? God, if you're up there, please…

No sooner had she voiced her prayer than she spotted the arm of the doll poking out from underneath her sister's bed. She swooped it up and ran out the door.

The smoke in the distance billowed into a thick black cloud. Katie picked up her skirt and darted across the yard. The Yankees were closing in.

She headed for the hedge that lined a small section of the dusty drive. The boxwoods, her ma's prized token of a childhood in Richmond, would serve them well today. A thick blackberry bramble sprawled directly behind, preventing any rider from coming that direction.

Ma and her sisters huddled in their makeshift shelter dug into the ground. Five sets of frightened eyes looked up at Katie as she approached.

She tossed the doll to Gracie and looked at her ma. "I'm not leaving Pa alone." She knelt down and grasped the leaf and twig covered board they had prepared to conceal the hiding spot.

"What about you?" Fifteen-year-old Amelia held out her arm, her dark eyes saucer wide and brimming with tears.

"I'll join you as soon as I can."

"Ma, stop her," Amelia said.

"She knows what's she doing." Ma nodded her approval.

A knot twisted inside Katie's gut. Ma so easily gave in. As usual, she treated Katie different from the others. Regardless, she wasn't about to leave Pa to fend for himself. If they tried to harm him, she would use her gun and they would pay. With her sharp aim, she would be able to take out a few of them before they got to her.

The board wobbled in her hands as she pulled it into place. A quick glance assured their hideaway looked like the surrounding area, and the pipe buried for air supply was carefully hidden in the brambles.

She moved further down the hedge away from the hiding spot and settled into the perfect ambush site. Lying low with her Springfield rifle held in one shaky hand, she pulled out the small six-shot revolver pocketed in her dress, the one she'd removed from a dead Yankee earlier that year. The metal took on the chill of the cold October morning and bit into her fingers, but nothing was as cold as her heart towards those Yankees who had killed her twin brothers.

Her heart pounded so loudly, she feared it was audible. With a deep breath, she worked to calm the thumping. The revolver lay loaded and ready as backup. Katie fit the rifle into the curve of her shoulder and shifted to find comfort on the uneven ground.

She clenched her teeth as her mind darted in and out of the horror of the past few years. Pa had warned the war would get uglier before it was over. He was right. Sheridan's troops were now systematically eliminating the Shenandoah Valley as a source of grain and livestock for General Lee's army—one field and one house at a time. The neighbor's place devoured by flames looked like a beast from hell had feasted.

Her vision blurred, and she brushed away tears with an angry swipe.

She spied movement on the road. Her adrenaline spiked as she peered through the sight on her gun. A Yankee. Perched ramrod straight on his steed, a soldier turned into their yard. Hatred washed hot, but it cooled at the sight of the man's face. The young officer reminded her of her twin brothers. He had the same wispy hair, angular cheekbones, and deep-set eyes. The urge to rise up from her hiding spot lifted her torso until the blue of his uniform caught her eye. She sank back, shaking, until hate once again gave her courage.

A swarm of soldiers followed the young officer to the front porch. They trained their muskets upon Pa.

"State your business," Pa said. The Enfield he held loosely at his side looked more like a toy than a weapon.

Still mounted on his horse, the officer spoke. "Surrender your gun, and we'll spare your life."

A soldier stormed the few steps and knocked the rifle out of Pa's hand. "Come on, old man. Got any fight left in you?"

Katie gripped the gun so tightly that it bit into the soft flesh of her shoulder. She set her sight on the pig-headed soldier. Her finger itched to pull the trigger.

"Take whatever you want. Just please don't burn the house."

The officer hesitated. "Sorry, old man, but an order is an order. You'd better get your family out of the cellar."

"Hope you got a pretty one for me," another said.

A group of them laughed. Their lewd intentions were clear Even from the distance, the lust smoldering in their evil eyes was obvious. She knew all too well what that meant.

Pa shook his head. "What did you say?"

"This crazy old buzzard's gone mad."

"Can't understand simple instructions," another said.

How dare they make fun of her pa. Turmoil roiled in her stomach, and she fought the nausea down.

"Leave him be," the officer said. "When we start burning, he'll understand."

He barked out a few short orders, and the soldiers jumped into action, scurrying about like dungeon rats. The officer dismounted and went into the house with a few of his men.

Pa collapsed into the chair on the porch. His head fell into his hands.

They piled straw around the barn and drove Blossom, their milk cow, and old Sam, the mule, inside. The doors slammed shut, and they lit their torches. The flames danced into action licking up the sides of the barn. Katherine's insides churned into a ball of fear.

She lowered her gun and shoved her fist into her mouth, biting down hard to stifle a cry as Sam's bellow reached her ears. Next, the hay field Pa had worked so hard to plant was set ablaze. Their last few chickens were thrown into a sack and the little bit of cured meat left in the smokehouse taken. How would her family survive without food?

The screen door slammed, and the officer and his soldiers carried out Ma's preserves, fresh bread, and a sack of root vegetables.

Katie's fingers interlaced the gun with one trembling finger, ready to take back what was rightfully theirs.

"Come on, old man. Off the porch." The officer grabbed Pa's arm and lifted him from the chair. He dragged him down the steps and into the yard. The house was lit. They stayed just long enough to ensure the damage would be complete. The whole episode took less than fifteen minutes, before the soldiers turned and rode out of sight.

Pa sank to his knees in the dust.