Across the Great Divide the: Book 1 The Clouds of War

By Michael L. Ross

Lexington, Kentucky, 1859. After saving John Hunt Morgan from a puma attack, fifteen-year-old farm boy Will Crump joins Hunt’s militia, the Lexington Rifles. Morgan mentors Will and enrolls him in the local university, where he hopes to study law. As tensions rise between the North and South, Will is torn between his loyalty to Morgan and his love for his family. Will’s father, sisters, and sweetheart follow the Union, while Morgan and Will commit to the South. As part of Morgan’s band, Will participates in ambushes and unconventional warfare until his first real battle at Shiloh. He fights bravely, but increasingly questions what the war is accomplishing, and whether his devotion to honor has led him astray. And where is God in all this killing?

Will’s sister Albinia, friend of the Clay family, becomes increasingly aware of the plight of the slaves. When she finds Luther, a slave she knows, trying to escape, she must decide between her conscience, and her friends. She becomes involved in the Underground Railroad, helping slaves to freedom – but will it cost her love and her freedom?

Will’s other sister, Julia, is approaching spinster status and despairs of ever meeting a man who can give her more than life on a farm until she meets Hiram Johannsen, a son of immigrants who owns a steamship company. They marry and she makes a new life in the North. When Hiram answers the call to fight for the North, Julia runs the steamboat company in her husband’s absence and uses her boats to help Albinia ferry escaped slaves to freedom. Her business relations put her in the perfect position to spy for the North. When the Confederates capture her, will she survive?

Luther is one of the first slaves Albinia helps flee the South after his master cruelly abuses his mother and sister. He escapes with his family, and when war breaks out, he fights for the North as an auxiliary of the Third Ohio Cavalry, alongside Julia’s husband, Hiram, and against Morgan and Will. Luther has to confront the demons of his past, an abusive master, and a slave catcher that kills his little sister. Will the desire for revenge destroy him?

Throughout the war, Will is forced to examine and question everything he believes in—his faith in God, his love for his family, his loyalty to Morgan, and his worth as a human being.

Will and his family must somehow mend the torn fabric of relationships to find peace, and reach Across the Great Divide.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Thomas Nelson
• Release date: May 14, 2019
• ISBN: 9781595559500

Michael L. Ross

Best selling author Michael Ross is a lover of history and great stories. He's a retired software engineer turned author, with three children and five grandchildren, living in Newton, Kansas with his wife of forty years. He was born in Lubbock, Texas, and still loves Texas. The main character of "Across the Great Divide", William Dorsey Crump, is one of the founders of Lubbock and Shallowater, Texas. Michael knew Will's granddaughter when he was a child. He has written a scholarly article on Will Crump for the Texas Historical Society, published in the Handbook of Texas Online, and has sold short stories in the past. This is his first novel and the first in the Across the Great Divide series, now an Amazon bestseller. Michael attended Rice University as an undergraduate, and Portland State University for his graduate degree. He has degrees in computer science, software engineering, and German. In his spare time, Michael loves to go fishing, riding horses, and play with his grandchildren, who are currently all under six years old. He sees many parallels between the time of the Civil War and our divided nation of today. Sanctuary cities, immigration, arguments around the holiday table, threats of secession - all are nothing new. Sometimes, to understand the present, you have to look at the past- and reach Across the Great Divide.

Book preview

WILL ON HIS OWN

April 1859

Lexington, Kentucky

Trouble seemed to follow Will Crump. Today, his particular trouble was weeding, planting, and a straggling three-year-old sister. Any other day, he might have paused to take in the beautiful countryside. Will trudged toward the north field of his father’s eighty-acre farm, determinedly dragging a burlap feed sack full of corn and carrying a hoe. A slingshot hung out of his back pocket, in hopes that he might see a rabbit.

His sister Lydia stumbled along behind, carrying her corncob doll and singing to it. Will fumed. He had no time to look after Lydia; she should be his older sisters’ problem. He felt the weight of his responsibility as much as the heavy sack. Without his father, the work would take much longer. Without a plow animal, finishing the plowing was impossible.

The heat would soon blister the ground and his arms. The swimming hole beckoned and he longed to jump into its wet coolness. Will had no eyes for the kaleidoscope of wildflowers or the emerald grass. He had no ears for the symphony of birds in the Kentucky spring around him. He itched to get his work done before the coming heat, and glared back at Lydia.

C’mon, Lydia, hurry up—don’t fall behind! I got lotsa weedin’ and plantin’ to do before lunchtime.

Lydia scowled, flipped a strand of long brown hair back into place, and halfheartedly tried to move faster.

Will straightened his back and attempted to lift the seed bag. Muscles bulging, he strained with all the force his five-foot-five, fifteen-year-old frame could muster. Sweat ran down his forehead. It was no use. The bag fell to the ground with a thud. Will shook his head, picking up the hoe, and resumed dragging the bag. Lydia stopped, watching her big brother with her thumb firmly implanted in her mouth. As Will dragged the bag onward, Lydia solemnly resumed trudging along after him, her eyes blue and round, her bare feet, dusty from the road, peeking out from under her yellow calico dress. Their mother had entrusted her to his care for the morning.

A week ago, the family mule died. Will’s father left, searching for a new plow animal that the family could afford or acquire by trading work. Will’s oldest sister, Julia, was visiting their aunt’s family in Nicholasville for a few days. Albinia, two years older than Will, often went to see her friend Lucy at the Clay plantation. The extra chores his mother took on with his sisters gone meant that she had little time to make sure Lydia stayed out of trouble.

They crossed a small bridge over a gurgling creek lined with bulrushes and cattails and soon arrived at the field.

What’s in the bag, Will?

Corn kernels for plantin’, so’s we got corn to eat come next fall and winter. Now sit down here in the corner of the field, play with your doll, and stay put. Don’t go wandrin’ off or bother me with fool questions. I’ll be looking for you each time I come down the row, Will said irritably.

All right. Me an’ Sally will play here.

Good girl. Now mind—stay put!

With that brotherly admonition, Will set off with his hoe, first attacking any weeds that had gotten the jump on his planting. His father had told him before leaving, I’m countin’ on you to get that north field ready and planted while I’m gone. Ol’ White Tail and me got it mostly plowed ‘fore he died on us, so that shouldn’t be a problem for you. But if we don’t get it planted, next winter could be mighty lean for us. You be the man of the house, I know you can do it.

Will bent to the work, concentrating on every green sprig he could detect growing in the rows of brown earth. At the end of each row, he looked to find Lydia happily instructing her doll on the fine art of giving a tea party and giggling merrily. As the sun moved higher overhead, he became steadily hotter. He focused even more on his work until a shadow loomed overhead—a hawk, circling lazily in hope of any rodent the hoe might scare out. Will looked up at the hawk, suddenly realizing that he had not checked on Lydia lately. Had it been two rows or three? A quick glance confirmed that her corner was empty.

Just then, a piercing scream came from the direction of the creek. Willeee!

Will dropped the weed in his hand and sprinted toward where he thought the scream came from, carrying the hoe with him.

Willeee! Lydia screamed again. It’s a snake!

He arrived just in time to see his sister at the creek’s edge, a large water moccasin slithering through the water toward her. He thought of the slingshot, but the risk of a miss was too great. Could he get there in time? Will darted forward.

Lydia, it will be all right. Don’t move. He tried to sound calm and steady, which was difficult given he was out of breath. His own fear made him feel shaky. He quickly reached forward with the hoe and struck at the snake’s triangular head. The snake dodged, struck the hoe with its fangs. Will tried again and missed. When the snake struck at the hoe a second time, Will took the opportunity to flip it several feet away and grabbed Lydia, running back to the field. He almost dumped her on the ground, nearly collapsing and out of breath. She began to cry, and Will rolled over. He hugged her close.

There now, Lyddie girl, don’t cry. You’re all right. You’re all right. He crooned to her softly, and soon the sobs ceased as she rested her head on his shoulder.

C’mon now, let’s go back to the house and get ya cleaned up. Maybe Mama has some lunch for us by now. What d’ya say to that?

She looked up adoringly and nodded, seeming to forget her terror of a few minutes before.

Where’s Sally? she asked.

Ya prob’ly dropped her back there, near the creek, Will sighed.

Cautiously retracing the path to the water’s edge, he found the beloved corncob doll and dusted her off, handing her back to Lydia. Hand in hand they walked slowly back to the rough wooden cabin they called home, passing the long split-rail fence along the dirt road marked with ruts from the heavy farm wagon. The road kept going on, but a small path turned up behind a grove of poplar trees. A clearing opened into a barnyard with chickens, ducks, and geese busily pecking the ground.

The cabin was a log-and-mud-chinked affair built by Will’s father using trees cleared off their homestead. Its center stone chimney divided the two rooms, one where the family slept and the other the kitchen and living area. The only hint of luxury was one glass window that let sunshine into the kitchen, a product of one year’s bountiful harvest. Off to the side was a small barn, providing shelter and safety for their meager livestock, and built into the hillside was an icehouse, where blocks of ice cut from the river could be stored packed in sawdust or hay. In front of the cabin, seemingly asleep, lay Rustler, their brown-and-white hound dog. He opened his eyes, tail flopping slowly at Will and Lydia’s approach, and went back to sleep.

As they arrived at the cabin, Sara Crump brushed back chestnut hair that escaped the bun she wore pinned in back. She was just finishing laying the table for lunch.

Well, there you two are—and probably hungry, she said. Glancing up and seeing Lydia’s tear-stained face, she rushed over and scooped her up in her arms, her brown eyes full of concern. What happened? she asked Will.

There was a big snake, an’ I was scared, an’ Willy saved me, said Lydia.

Wasn’t anything special, Will said. She sorta wandered off, and I brought her back.

Setting Lydia down, Sara sighed. Sounds like more than that. But thank the Lord you’re safe. So what did you learn about moving away from where Willy told you to be?

Hanging her head a little, Lydia mumbled, It’s not safe, and I might get in trouble.

That’s a good girl. Sara smiled. Now get some cold water from the pump for Willy.

When Lydia was out of earshot, Sara asked, What sort of snake was it?

Will was embarrassed. Water moccasin.

That was a brave thing you did saving her like that, but next time make sure you keep a closer eye on her. Sometimes a little more care saves the need for heroics later.

Yes, ma’am.

Sara smiled at him, softening. I appreciate all that you’re doing while your pa is gone. You’re almost a man, and I hate to ask you to take care of Lyddie too. But I have to keep the fire going and be in and out of the cabin all the time—I just can’t keep dragging her around. You can at least put her in one place and just keep an eye on her. But you’ve got to check on her often. Three-year-olds can disappear in a flash. I think you learned that today.

Yes, ma’am, Will said with a guilty sigh. She just seemed to be doin’ so well, and I got working on plantin’ and the weeds and plumb that I forgot to check after a while. He felt like slumping on the log bench by the table but instead busied himself with helping his mother lay out food, slicing the ham with sure, strong strokes.

Lydia came back, dragging her doll behind her and carrying a carved wooden cup filled with cold water, which she extended to her brother.

Here, Willy.

He looked down and smiled at her, accepting the cup and gulping the water gratefully. Lydia walked over to the miniature rocking chair her father had made for her. She carefully seated her doll in it, wiping dirt off its face, and then began lecturing her sternly, Now, Sally, you’ve got to keep more clean. You can’t just get dirty an’ messy; you got to act like a lady. Will suppressed a chuckle, listening to his sister echo the admonitions her mother had given her so many times.

When they sat, Sara nodded at him as they held hands around the rough table and he offered grace. The simple meal of ham, applesauce, and peas from the garden was over quickly. Will was about to leave for the field again when their dog began barking and baying, wagging his tail at the same time. Will hurried out into the yard, wondering if he should grab the Springfield musket that hung on pegs over the door. Hesitating, he decided against it.

He looked to the edge of the clearing and saw two yoked oxen coming down the road, driven by his father. Curiously, he also carried a shiny rifle slung over his shoulders. Will wondered how he’d managed to buy one. Rustler ran to greet him, startling the oxen, who eyed him warily.

Hello, Son! Robert called out cheerily.

Hello, sir. Part of Will wanted to run out and hug his father as he used to when he was younger, but he stayed put, wanting to retain his man of the house image. Will watched as Robert took off his hat, freeing curly brown hair, and wiped the sweat from his forehead before he unyoked the oxen and led each one to a stall in the barn. As soon as he finished, Lydia, who had been impatiently hopping from one foot to the other, ran to her father, having no ladylike scruples whatsoever. Robert grinned and scooped her up in his arms, holding her high over his head. She squealed with laughter and then hugged him tightly when he brought her down. Extricating himself, he walked to where Sara waited in the doorway and gave her a quick hug, then made his way to the water trough and pumped a drink into the ladle that hung there, drinking long and deeply. He pumped some more to pour down his back.

Will was puzzled, since his father had planned to get another mule yet had come home with oxen. He would not have dreamed of mentioning it to him, however, and simply smiled, glad to have him home.

Robert entered the cabin and sat at the table. He glanced with affection at Sara as she got out bread, cheese, and a few vegetables from the garden. Will left and came back with the ladle full of water for his father and sat across from him. Lydia excitedly filled Robert in on the morning’s events, with her father reacting in exaggerated surprise, giving Will a knowing look. Will felt proud at being treated like an adult.

What news from the girls? asked Robert. I know Julia was anxious about yer sister’s health. Any idea when she’ll be comin’ home?

No word from Julia yet, said Sara. I spect she’s goin’ about with her cousins and makin’ eyes at some of the boys. And Albinia is still over at the Clays’ place vistin’ Lucy. I expect Albinia back within a few days. Prob’ly one of James Clay’s boys will see her home.

Hmm, with all the work around here, you’d think the girls would stick closer to home. It ain’t like we got slaves and maids. Still, I s’pose if’n they are always here, they’ll never find themselves a beau. Robert grinned. He didn’t seem to really be upset about the girls being away.

Well, I had me a couple of adventures. He smiled. Came upon a fella on the Louisville road—a tree fell and trapped his legs underneath when he was choppin’ it. I helped him get free and to the doctor in town—he was an elderly gent, and so grateful he wanted to bless me for helpin’. I couldn’t refuse without offending him, so I used what he gave to help get the oxen and a new rifle.

Robert, what a blessing! said Sara. Though I understand you didn’t want to take charity, it will make such a difference for our family.

Yep, I figger with this pair I might be able to farm some more land. We’ll have to see how it works out, but the Lord always provides.

You said ‘a couple of adventures’—anything else?

Yeah, the second wasn’t nearly so happy. I camped one night not far off the road. Just after I put my fire out and was about to go to sleep, I heard an awful commotion in the brush. I looked over to see, wonderin’ if someone was trying to steal the new oxen. I heard hounds baying, and a group of men with torches come along. Seems they was huntin’ a slave, run off from the Jameson place. I ‘spect the noise I heard first was the slave himself, so they weren’t far behind. They asked if I’d seen him, and I could truthfully say I hadn’t.

What if you had? Will wanted to know.

I don’t rightly know, Son. You know I don’t hold with slavery but it’s legal, and the Bible tells us to obey the governin’ authorities. I’m just glad I didn’t have to make the choice—tellin’ the truth is always the best way, but there’s times when it seems like it’s not.

Robert slapped his thigh and rose. Time to go put these oxen to use. Will, you can come along, start learnin’ to drive’em. I imagine your ma can manage Lyddie for a while. With two of us, we might get another whole field plowed before dark.

✳   ✳   ✳

Julia stood in front of a mirror over a pine dresser brushing tangles out of her hair, the sunlight coming through the high bedroom window in her uncle’s cabin catching the copper highlights. If not for the tangled mass, she might have appeared at least pretty. Her face wrinkled in concentration and disgust as she tugged with comb and brush, trying to tame her unruly mane. Usually, she gave up and wound the curls into a tight bun at the back of her head. Tonight, however, she wanted to look special, more grown-up, for her uncle’s barn dance. Her cousins, Rose and Violet, had already spent hours primping and gossiping about which farm boys might come. Julia, being twenty-one, wanted to appear more mature than the younger girls. Nonetheless, she felt a flurry of barn swallows in her stomach. She only visited here a few times a year, when her mother visited her sister or a family member had time to travel with her. She knew that behind her back, her cousins talked about her short, slightly plump frame and despaired of her ever getting married. Julia herself sometimes worried that she would end up a spinster.

Finally victorious over the tangle, she began the arduous process of working with a curling iron she had heated on the stove. She made columns of curls around her head as she’d seen in a magazine, each one held in place by artfully hidden pins. She did not want to risk one coming loose as she whirled dancing the evening away.

An hour later, she called Rose to help her lace her stays and corset so she could actually dress for the evening. Rose, a willowy sixteen-year-old blond with a rather plain face, smirked.

I’ll tighten you up—but you tryin’ to be awful fancy with them hair fixin’s! She dutifully yanked on the strings to compress her cousin’s waist to socially acceptable limits.

Julia grimaced. Not that tight, Rose! My ribs’ll pop out!

Rose sniffed. If you want to look like a prize bull instead of a belle, it’s nuthin to me! But most of them boys ain’t gonna be lookin’ at your hair, I can tell ya! Wish’t we could trade some—you got paddin’ where I could use it, and you could use to lose some of yours.

Julia sighed. I have to admit you’re right on that. Okay, go ahead. Pull harder. I’ll breathe in.

Rose scolded, And don’t go eatin’ like a farmhand, neither. Me’n Violet’s gonna stash some of the food, ‘specially the cakes, to eat later after the company’s gone. You can join us if you want. But fellas like to think that the women eat like birds, even if you’d faint from starvation if it were true.

Violet appeared, her thick black hair and stouter frame a contrast to her sister. She joined the tugging and pushing. Whatcha tryin’ to do, be the talk of the ball? she snickered. Ain’t nothing but farm boys comin’, and most of ‘em just as interested in your cookin’ as your figure, and certainly not your hair.

Julia frowned. Can’t we just relax and have fun without worryin’ about which boy’ll pick who? I don’t know most of ‘em anyway, and I’m not interested in getting hitched to some plowboy, either. My mama did that, and look where she is! I want a man with prospects, one who’s going somewhere in the world.

Violet looked at her slyly. Well, I did hear a rumor that one of the Todd boys from Lexington might be out this way. Supposedly he’s checking on some property and might come tonight. You know his daddy is a banker, Robert Todd. Word has it they’re pretty rich. ‘Course, it could be just talk, she said. And why he’d bother with the likes of us, that’d be a wonder.

Julia straightened and sucked in her stomach extra hard. As the three left the room, she sniffed. Any girl can try to better herself. I certainly intend to.

✳   ✳   ✳

As Julia entered the barn, she scanned the chairs set around the walls and a makeshift stage of hay bales at the front. She watched the three Negro slaves hired to play for the event as they tuned up. Her uncle did not own any slaves but had hired these from nearby Waveland plantation. Julia had overheard him talking about them. Some slaves had privileges to play for money or do other skilled labor when their masters did not need them. Julia again felt a tightening in her throat and stomach, nervous with anticipation.

Guests began to arrive, one or two in carriages, but most in farm wagons or on horseback. Despite her intention to appear nonchalant, Julia watched eagerly as the young men arrived. She also watched the other girls to work out who her competition might be. She did not really expect that any of the men would be of suitable station to attract her interest, but she remained hopeful. She paid sharp attention while appearing distracted by the music, tapping her toe in time to the beat. One particularly handsome stranger, dressed in a well-cut expensive suit, caught Julia’s attention. He arrived in a fancy carriage with driver, footman, and groom, and was accompanied by a young woman with tawny hair and blue eyes. Her slim figure and average height were enhanced by a burgundy velvet gown with flashing sequins. She looked like a princess among the country maids assembled there. She laughed and talked animatedly with the young man, who responded in kind. Julia felt a twinge of jealousy. Listening to the gossip around her, Julia discovered that the young man was Samuel Todd, of the banker Todd family. She kept an eye on him without being too obvious. Soon there were about twenty young people and another thirty to forty elders, including her aunt and uncle, who were busy greeting the guests as they entered.

The music started again, and the young men approached potential partners. No one came to ask Julia to dance, but she pretended not to notice as she made her way to the punch table and took some for herself. Then she strolled back to her seat next to the two other girls not chosen to form squares. Julia watched as the young woman in the burgundy gown, said by some to be Sam Todd’s cousin, acquitted herself beyond Julia’s skill. She knew the right movements and placement, as well as some of the fancier steps other girls neglected. Julia made her observation less obvious by use of the fan she had borrowed from her aunt.

As the music ended and couples took a short break, Julia turned back toward the punch table. She bumped into a blond young man, dropping the fan to the floor. Flustered with her clumsiness, she lost track of the handsome Sam Todd, but found the young man she’d bumped stooping to pick up the fan for her.

Hallo, ma’am. Allow me.

The young man handed her the fan. He towered over her, at least six feet tall and built like an oak tree.

I am Hiram Johannsen.

Julia saw country bumpkin written all over him but had no wish to be rude.

Thank you, Mr. Johannsen. I’m Julia Crump, here visiting my aunt and uncle.

She curtsied and made to turn away.

Hiram quickly stammered, M-m-may I have the next dance with you, Miss Crump, if you are not otherwise engaged?

His Swedish accent made her name sound more like Crimp than Crump. Julia anxiously scanned the crowd, hoping one of her cousins might be nearby, but saw no polite way of escape.

Of course, Mr. Johannsen.

He offered his arm as the musicians struck up a Virginia reel. Relieved, she took her place opposite him, and the dance began. With a reel she could be part of the dance, but there would be no occasion for close contact or much conversation. Hiram proved a surprisingly capable and nimble dancer despite his size. It was somewhat comical as they made the bridge for the other couples to pass through at the end, as Hiram had to stoop and the other couples had to duck to accommodate Julia’s short stature. She felt awkward and embarrassed, although Hiram smiled at her constantly and seemed taken with her. Julia had to admit he was handsome in an oxish sort of way, but she racked her brain for a way to escape. When the dance ended, she quickly thanked him and excused herself by telling him she must go and see if her aunt needed any help with her guests.

When she found her aunt, Julia encouraged her to sit and rest. Julia refilled the punch bowl while listening to the conversation going on around the table. The girl in the burgundy velvet was holding forth in a most unladylike way while her companion Sam Todd smiled indulgently.

Slave owners are just stealing from the Lord and from the blacks they own, she intoned indignantly. England has shown that slavery can be successfully abolished. Why, the Bible itself says that if a slave can be free, he should be, and that in Christ there is no slave or free, that all men are brothers.

Sam tugged at her elbow, attempting to steer her away from the group of collected listeners.

You must excuse my cousin, gentlemen. Louise reads more than is good for her. Come, Louise, let’s encourage the darkies to play, and we can dance to more of their excellent music, he encouraged.

Louise wasn’t moving. One of the gentlemen at the table, wearing a rough-cut suit, said sneeringly, And does not your own family own slaves, Miss Todd?

Indeed, Mr. Jameson, they do, and more’s the shame of it.

And who will tend the fields to grow the cotton and crops that keep you in silks and fine dresses if the slaves don’t do it? Free the slaves and England would not have to use troops to win back the colonies, they’d win them back through economic collapse. The British would simply buy their raw goods from elsewhere in the empire, as our rising prices made us a laughing stock, if we could even provide them at all.

Mark my words, Mr. Jameson, Louise replied. Freedom is coming, and all across the South planters and others who fail to anticipate it shall suffer. With that, Sam was finally able to prevail upon her to join the set forming for the next dance.

Julia quietly moved away, pondering what she’d heard. Would freeing slaves really be so bad? Then again, what would they do? The slaves here did not seem particularly wretched. Jolted from her reverie by another of the farmers, she accepted his offer to dance and joined in a lively polka, contriving to steer them next to where Sam and Louise were dancing. Her partner, a clumsy yokel with three left feet, kept stepping on her toes and apologizing. As she dodged one of his careless stomps, she bumped into Sam Todd behind her. Julia lost her balance, twisted an ankle, and fell in a heap of petticoats. Her legs went shooting out, tripping Sam, and causing him to pull his partner down as well, while the yokel stood staring at them and Louise glared at her. Sam ignored Julia and solicitously helped his partner up, apologizing profusely. Julia flamed with embarrassment. The music had stopped, and everyone was looking at them. She wanted to sink through a crack in the floor. She would not impress Sam Todd now. She wanted to apologize to him, but found Hiram Johannsen offering her a hand up. By the time she was on her feet, Sam was nowhere to be seen.

Thank you, Mr. Johannsen. Again, I am in your debt, she said, seeking where Sam might have gone.

Not at all, Miss Crump. May I get you some punch? Or perhaps you’d like to get some air? he said, offering his arm.

Well, ah, Mr. Johannsen, she said, looking around somewhat frantically. Sam wasn’t there. Perhaps he’d left after the embarrassment of their fall? Making up her mind, Julia brightened. Yes, perhaps some air would be just thing, she said, noticing some people still staring at her.

As they walked to the barnyard, she saw that her cousins were pointing and laughing at her.

Are you quite all right, Miss Crump? asked Hiram, observing her slight wince as she walked.

Oh yes, it’s nothing. Just twisted my ankle. Thank you for rescuing me. Perhaps … I should go to the house and lie down for a while.

Let me help you.

Gratefully, she leaned on his arm for support.

I hope we’ll see one another again, he said at the door.

Later, when everyone had gone home, Violet came into Julia’s room, and said Looks like you found your plowboy after all.

It was just a dance, Julia said defensively. To herself, she thought, And he was handsome. On reflection, his courtly manners made him seem… less like a yokel.

✳   ✳   ✳

Will rose early and did his usual chores. Now that his father was home, he would be able to go back to school. After Sara packed him a lunch in a pail, he began the five-mile walk in good spirits. He enjoyed learning, and if he got into trouble with his parents, it was usually because he was poring over a borrowed book rather than attending to additional farmwork. He was well through most of the fifth reader and ahead in trigonometry as well, so if he missed a day or two of school, it was not a real problem. Today he strode merrily, enjoying a cool break in the weather and lifting his face to the clear blue sky as he took in the sound of the songbirds. He went the long way, using the bridge to cross the creek. Other times he waded right through it, arriving at school still dripping.

Arriving half an hour before the bell, he found most of the boys involved in a game of Annie Over, tossing the ball and laughing. It would have been fun to join in, but, feeling his new, more grown-up status, Will decided against it.

Scanning the field, he saw two of the older boys, Jesse Davis and Ben Drake, were tossing a girl’s violet bonnet back and forth between them. They were teasing the prettiest girl in the school, Jenny Morton.

Angrily, she shouted, Give it back! and leaped in such a manner as to expose her pantalets in an attempt to catch it. Jesse was a tall boy who’d gotten his growth early, nearing six feet, with curly black hair and mischief in his blue eyes. Jenny was fourteen, her blonde curls dancing in the air as she jumped fruitlessly after the bonnet.

What’ll you give for it, Jenny? Ben teased. At sixteen, he was a solidly built farm boy, some inches shorter than Jesse and as frisky as a colt just turned loose for spring. His brown hair was shorter than most boys—to stay cool, he said. Muscles rippled in his arms as he tossed the bonnet back to Jesse.

Jenny’s face was scarlet, and her blue eyes snapped like snake whips. She made a fist. I’ll give you a black eye if you don’t give it back! This just made the boys laugh. Jesse almost dropped the bonnet. The boys were so preoccupied with their quarry they didn’t notice Will walk over.

Give it back to her, Will said calmly. No need to pick on a girl.

Who asked you? Jesse retorted. Hey, maybe he wants to wear it! Latest fashion for bookworms, right Ben? He tossed the bonnet back to Ben, high over Jenny’s head and out of her reach.

Ben laughed and turned to toss the bonnet back to Jesse, but before it left his grasp, Will’s head hit his gut at full charge. Ben dropped the bonnet and doubled over, gasping. Will snatched it up and returned it to Jenny, who fled toward the schoolhouse with a quick, grateful look back at him. Will faced his adversaries. He took a fighting stance, waiting for Jesse to attack, but Jesse walked over to Ben and gave him a hand up.

Whadja go and do that for? We was just funnin’ her. Ben was still bent over, trying to regain his breath.

I don’t think she thought it was fun. Picking on someone weaker is just mean.

Aww, you’re just sweet on her, that’s what! You’d better watch your back! Jesse fumed as he helped Ben toward the school.

In the schoolhouse, Will took his seat with the older boys. The room held two rows of wrought-iron desks with polished wooden tops. Girls sat on the right, boys on the left, with the youngest pupils at the front, owing to their tendency to cause mischief. The teacher’s podium and bookcase sat on a raised wooden platform. A chalkboard, a picture of President Buchanan, and the American flag were at the very front of the classroom. A separate podium had a large Bible opened on it.

Mr. Powell called the boisterous students to order, asking the first reader group to come forward and recite. Though the schoolmaster was of average height, he towered over the little ones, who seemed in awe of him. His eyes moved constantly around the classroom, peering over the spectacles that gave him a owlish look. The young scholars took turns reading aloud the lesson and reciting their Bible memory verse for the week, with Mr. Powell occasionally coaxing and correcting.

Will attempted to open his desk lid to get his slate and copybook to work on his trigonometry. He tugged but found the desk tied shut with thin wire. He jerked, causing a banging noise and a disapproving glare from Mr. Powell. As soon as Will untwisted the wire and got the desk open, he felt a wet splat, as something hit the back of his head and dripped down his neck. Pulling a cloth handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped the back of his head and found a used plug of chewing tobacco stuck to his hair. As he quickly glanced backward, Ben smirked at him. Momentarily his temper flared, but he faced forward again. Jenny glanced over her shoulder and smiled at him empathetically. Will wondered if Ben and Jessie would be waiting for him after school along the road home. It nagged at his thoughts, but he tried to push it aside, concentrating instead on the math problems at hand.

He finished in an hour, and when called to recite, demonstrated mastery of the answers and explanations. Returning to his seat, he found no further evidence of devilment from the boys. He quickly lost himself in the description of the rebellion at the Massachusetts state prison in his reader. He wondered at the statement that death was better than the flogging and imprisonment suffered by the inmates, thinking how he might respond to such treatment. He thought perhaps it might be best to endure the treatment rather than risk death.

The remainder of the school day seemed to pass swiftly. Will barely noticed his surroundings, though occasionally he noted Jenny looking back at him when Mr. Powell was occupied helping another student. Her glances gave him a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach.

At four o’clock, Mr. Powell said the final prayer of the day and dismissed everyone. Will hung back, reading, until he was the last student left in the classroom. Apprehensively, he gathered his books and left the school building, unsure what might be waiting outside. As he emerged into the sunshine, he noticed Jenny off to the right side, apparently waiting for him.

Will? she called to him. "I wanted to wait for you and thank you properly for what you did today. I’m sorry those mean boys caused trouble for you. Would you mind walking home with me? I know it’s a little out of your way, but if Ben and Jessie are waiting for you, they won’t expect you to go this way. And, well, if they’re waiting for me, I’d rather have you with me. Please?" Her blue eyes and dimples smiled at him. Will felt an unaccustomed flutter low in his belly.

Sure, Jenny, if you want.

WILL’S GUN

Late April, 1859

Next Saturday, in the early morning light, Will drove to Lexington for supplies. Arriving at the dry goods store he presented his list to Mr. Hobson, the owner, who peered at it from behind his round-owl spectacles. He wore a clerk’s visor over his receding hairline and a white pinstriped apron over a dark vest and white shirt. His rotund frame bent forward, and he smiled at Will.

Good to see you, Will. Reckon it’ll take time to get this order together. Why don’t you park your rig over by the livery stable and walk around? Come back in, say, half an hour.

Thank you, sir.

Don’t suppose you’d be interested in any of that penny candy, on the house like, you being so grown up and all? Hobson grinned at him.

Will grinned back. Well, sir, seeing as you’re so kind to offer, guess it’d be rude to turn it down.

He drove the wagon over to the livery stable, parked, then wandered down the street. As he was passing the First Presbyterian Church, he stopped before the notice board in front. The bold lettering on the front cover of the group of pamphlets pinned there caught his eye: Hints on Slavery. Glancing through one of them, Will saw the words To emancipate the whole slave population gradually has been the uniform plan…. He remembered hearing and seeing other work from the minister that proclaimed slavery against the law

Reviews for Across the Great Divide the

[fcplcataloger · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Across the Great Divide is a history lover's dream! Michael L. Ross has written a story that is based on true people and actual events and he has successfully paired fact and fiction to give us an exceptional story. I am a native Kentuckian so I know about the Clay family in Lexington, John Parker and the Underground Railroad, John Hunt Morgan and his raids, and the horrible truth that Kentucky was definitely a divided state. Kentuckians were either strongly in favor of freeing the slaves or they were determined to keep them in bondage and just like Will Crump and his father, Kentucky fathers and sons really did fight on opposite sides.This story covers six years in the life of Will Crump and we watch him change from a fifteen year old boy who was eager to learn and get an education to a twenty-one year old man who had already faced death and endured prison. The eager young man who had looked forward to his future had become a man needing to reconcile his past. There are also many other intriguing characters, some real and some fictitious, who are caught up in this war that divided families, Kentucky, and our nation; Ross has succeeded in capturing the emotions and actions of all involved.This is the debut novel of Michael L. Ross and I look forward to reading his next book in The Clouds of War series. Across the Great Divide is excellent historical fiction!I received a copy of this book from the author and Historical Fiction Virtual Tours. Opinions expressed in this review are completely my own.