The Beginning

   Louise gasped and lifted a shaking hand to part the chiffon curtains.  A chestnut horse covered with mud wearily made its way up the drive towards the house.  The rider on its back sat slumped, staring down at the ground.  Fear made its way up her throat.  Something was wrong.  She ran as fast as her hoops would allow and threw open the front door.  The man looked up as he reached the front of the house and tried to smile.  Yet the sadness and tinge of fear on his face made it look more like a contortion of pain.  “Ben..?” her voice trailed off and she walked out onto the large porch.  With a sigh he slung himself out of the saddle and landed heavily on the ground.  His large boots clumped up the steps leaving globs of mud on the once clean wood.  He folded Louise into his arms.

    “It’s started honey.  The south fired on Fort Sumter.”

    She pressed closer to his chest and took in a shaky breath and closed her eyes tightly trying to press back the tears.  They poured down her cheeks, refusing to stay checked, and dropped onto her husband’s jacket where they disappeared into the already wet folds.  “Come on, honey,” he gently guided her into the house.  The wind moaned softly as it whipped around the house; seeming too also mourn what had happened.