THE SOUTHERN DEVIL
Chapter One
Tennessee, December 1863
Twenty-one-year-old Lieutenant Morgan Evans stepped
inside the tiny, ice-cold room in the small farmhouse
and waited, his weary eyes running affectionately over
General Nathan Bedford Forrest. He'd just returned
from a week in the river bottoms and knew he looked it;
not that clothing mattered much when his weapons were
ready to fight. By the other window, the few tattered, starving
staff members worked hard at a dinner table. His old
friend Rafe was sitting at a lady's dressing table before a
glass mirror, scratching diligently in a ledger.
The scene was a very far cry from the comforts of a
few months ago, when they'd been part of a major Confederate
army. But the self-taught Forrest had whipped
too many enemies too easily, then told the truth once
too often about his superiors' lack of fighting ability.
He'd finally gained an independent command only by
going to a place long overrun by the Federals, with only
three hundred of his handpicked men and no supplies
whatsoever, told to enlist whatever men he could find.
Morgan tried to thi ... read full excerpt from: The Southern Devil ebook
