Chapter 3
Another thing I hate about this place. Too many damn trees.
Andy shoved aside the low branches that caught in his hair as he walked through the woods. Back home they had flat land filled with cotton and tobacco, and the only trees were well-planned orchards of peach and apple and pear, laid out in straight rows the length of the farm, filling the air with heady scents of ripe fruit, sweet like perfume in the summer heat. There were a few trees down by the river, nothing much, and some bushy undergrowth, but Mississippi didn’t seem besieged with such wilderness, not like this stretch of Virginia. Should’ve conceded this state to the Union, Andy thought bitterly. Let it go when Grant crossed the border. Let him deal with this wilderness.
Around him the night was quiet, filled
