Shenandoah A short story by CE Wills Copyright 2011 by CE Wills Published by CE Wills on Smashwords.com 2011 Thank you for downloading this free ebook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form. If you enjoyed this book, please return to Smashwords.com to discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support. Author's foreword: Recently I was playing music from an old songbook of American folk music. I ran across a song that I had never heard called Shenandoah. The music and lyrics are so beautiful that I fell in love with it. The haunting melody seemed to call to mind a movie I had seen about the civil war but I could not recall it, if this were indeed, the fact. I went to Wikipedia and read about the song. It was probably written in the 1800's as just the one verse and then other verses were added as the years went by, to suit this person or that one. At one time or another it was telling the story of settlers going west, an Indian chief and his daughter or of runaway slaves escaping to the new frontier. I meditated on the song as I played it and this is how I think the original writer came to write it, many long years ago. Shenandoah Chapter 1 My name is Bill Anderson, late of old Virginia. It's the place of my birth, and my heart abides there yet, though I haven't seen that fair land these seven long years. Virginia, in particular the great Shenandoah Valley, is the most beautiful spot on God's green earth. The mighty Shenandoah River flowing past the majestic Blue Ridge Mountains is a sight for sore eyes. Incredibly lush forests and plentiful game made it paradise for a woodsman like me. Fertile valleys and productive farms made it profitable for folks like my father and our neighbor, Ebenezer Riggs. The word Shenandoah means all this to me and more. Shenandoah was her name. The only woman I had ever loved or will ever love. She was named for that beautiful country and she seemed to personify it with her freshness, beauty and strength. Her hair was as black and shiny as midnight and so thick I'd seen her break a comb as she combed it out. Her features were lovely and kind, with nary a shade of selfishness or any sort of baseness manifesting itself. She had a shape that drew attention whether she was wearing a ball gown or home-spun woolens. We grew up as neighbors, with her family, the Riggs, being close friends to we Andersons. When we both were 18 years old we were betrothed and eagerly awaited our marriage the following year. Her Father, Ebenezer Riggs, liked me a lot. I liked him a lot too, even though he was a mite overbearing. I felt I could put up with a lot for the sake of my beloved Shenandoah. Then events happened that I had very little interest in but they changed my life. They certainly did not change it for the better. The winds of war were blowing. Civil War. North against South. American against American. Many times it would mean father against son or brother against brother. Neither I nor my family owned slaves. I felt like this was an abomination. Yet as the talk of secession from the Union was becoming hotly debated I wondered what I should do. My conscience would never allow me to fight against my beloved South, which included most of my friends and family. Neither could I support a doctrine like slavery. I began to think about going west, into the territories. Shenandoah Riggs and her family were staunchly behind the Union. Her father and I had a bit of a falling out when we discussed it. He wanted me to fight for the North, of course. On our last evening together, Shenandoah and I talked earnestly about many things after her father had gone to bed. Finally I asked her to go west with me and that we forego any active role in the imminent war. She agreed and with her kisses still warm upon my lips I went home to begin preparations for our departure. The next morning I rode into town to make arrangements for our marriage and subsequent journey. It soon became evident that Shenandoah had told her father of our plans. When I came out of the mercantile store I ran right into Ebenezer Riggs. Riggs got red in the face and shoved me. There was, unfortunately, a big crowd in town and we were immediately the center of attention. He cursed me, as I scrambled to my feet, for planning to leave town with his daughter. "Do you think I'd let her marry a dirty Reb?" He said in a loud voice. In that day and time, a man's honor was his most valued possession. I could not abide the things he had said to me. I cursed him in a similar fashion to the way he had addressed me and told him my second would call upon him for the purpose of arranging the particulars of a duel. Riggs was past the point of self-control by a good margin. "You've got a gun in your belt," he says, "and I've one in mine, so why should we get up early tomorrow?" Then he spat on me and pulled at his pistol. Quick as a flash, I hauled out my pistol and shot him in the chest. His gun had caught on the waist of his britches and he pulled the trigger before the gun even got clear. His bullet splintered the wood beneath his feet. He fell to the boardwalk and flopped once or twice before lying still. I looked down at him in amazement, then looked at my gun as though wondering who had put it in my hand. There were mutterings in the crowd, some for me and some against me. I heard one man say to another, "He'll hang for this!" When I heard that I leaped astride my horse and rode toward home. As I rode away I saw Shenandoah running toward her father's side. Her long hair was streaming behind her and she had a look of horror on her face. I drifted west to escape the noose. I rode into a land where men wore gun belts and their hand was either fast, or cold and dead. It seemed as though I ran into gunplay at every place where I planned to settle down. Finally I looked around and realized that nine dead men lay behind me, as well as many long miles of travel. Tonight, I sit thinking about my lovely Shenandoah Valley and the girl named for it. I see her yet, in my mind's eye and I have penned these brief lines. Oh Shenandoah, I long to see you Away, you rolling river Oh, Shenandoah, I long to see you Away, we're bound away Cross the wide Missouri Oh, Shenandoah, you were my woman Long ago, you lovely lady But then, I shot your father I can never take that back So tonight, I sit in this jail made of adobe mud, here in the New Mexico Territory. Tomorrow I'll be hanged, and my last thought will be of Shenandoah. The End If you have time, check out my blog at The Authors Green Retreat. I'm CE Wills.