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Chapter 1

The brave man is not he who feels no fear,

For that were stupid and irrational

But he whose noble soul its fear subdues;

And bravely dares the danger nature shrinks from

As for your youth whoht,

Aith them there is not in their crew

One valiant spirit

—WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

Tennessee—1865

The rains had beco, the roads nearly ions The colors of the uniforh the layer of ray that they had worn so nobly this past year during the war

The horses upon which runted and blew steam froh the ankle-deep mire

The soldiers walking behind the horses, their steeds having been shot fro the last ambush, cursed the Yankees beneath their breaths

The as officially over, but not inside the hearts of those who had given up so much for a victory in the South

They coughed, sneezed, and clutched themselves with their arms as chills raced across their cold, wet flesh They had now gone three days and nights without sleep except for those briefplaces

Lieutenant Colonel Boyd Johnston surveyed his htened around the horse’s reins, helpless against what had happened to his regiment

He drew his eyes fro Cloud, a Cherokee Indian who had joined his regihteen years old, he had fought as valiantly as a man of thirty

Long before the war a bond had grown between Boyd and Joe Dancing Cloud, one that fathers and sons sooodbye to the lad, fearing he would never see hiain

“Da Cloud the nicknaiven him when he was ten years old