Storm Clouds Rolling In
Storm
Clouds
Rolling In
Ginny Dye
Together We Can Change The World Publishing
Bellingham, WA
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Storm Clouds Rolling In
Copyright
2010 by Ginny Dye
Published by Together We Can Change The World Publishing
Bellingham, WA 98229
www.BregdanChronicles.net
www.AVoiceInTheWorldPublishing.com
ISBN
0982717105
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without the written permission of the publisher.
Printed in the United States of America.
For my grandfather,
Wallace Lorrimer Gaffney
1893-1976
“Dandy”
Thank you for encouraging me
to follow my dreams
no matter what the cost.
My gift of writing
is yours – the Bregdan Chronicles
are for you.
A Note
from the Author
There are times in the writing of history when we must use words we personally abhor.
The use of the word “nigger” in
Storm Clouds Rolling In
is one of those times. Though I hate the word, its use is necessary to reveal and to challenge the prejudices of the time in order to bring change and healing. Stay with me until the end – I think you will agree.
My great hope is that
Storm Clouds Rolling In
will both entertain and challenge you. I hope you will learn as much as I did during the months of research it took to write this book. Though I now live in the Pacific Northwest, I grew up in the South and lived for 11 years in Richmond, VA. I spent countless hours exploring the plantations that still line the banks of the James River and became fascinated by the history.
But you know, it’s not the events that fascinate me so much – it’s the people. That’s all history is, you know.
History is the story of people’s lives. History reflects the consequences of their choice and actions – both good and bad. History is what has given you the world you live in today – both good and bad.
This truth is why I named th
is series The Bregdan Chronicles. Bregdan is a Gaelic term for weaving. Braiding. Every life that has been lived until today is a part of the woven braid of life. It takes every person’s story to create history. Your life will help determine the course of history. You may think you don’t have much of an impact. You do. Every action you take will reflect in someone else’s life. Someone else’s decisions. Someone else’s future. Both good and bad. That is the
Bregdan Principle
…
Every life that has been lived until today is a part of the woven braid of life. It takes every person’s story to create history. Your life will help determine the course of history. You may think you don’t have much of an impact. You do. Every action you take will reflect in someone else’s life. Someone else’s decisions. Someone else’s future. Both good and bad.
My great hope as you read this book, and all that will follow, is that you will acknowledge the power you have, every day, to change the world around you by your decisions and actions. Then I will know the research & writing were all worthwhile.
Oh, and I hope you enjoy every moment of it, and learn to love the characters as much as I do!
I’m already being asked how many books will be in this series. I guess that depends on how long I live! My intention is to release two books a year, each covering one year of history – continuing to weave the lives of my characters into the times they lived. I hate to end a good book as much as anyone – always feeling so sad that I have to leave the characters. You shouldn’t have to be sad for a long time!
Six books are already written, with many more on the way!
If you like what you read, you’ll want to make sure you’re on our mailing list at
www.BregdanChronicles.com
.
I’ll let you know each time a new one comes out!
Sincerely,
Ginny Dye
PROLOGUE
1850
Moses had come to watch his daddy die.
Slinking back into the sheltering brush, he struggled to evade the probing fingers of light groping for him from the blazing fire.
The two men coaxing the fire into a roaring mountain of flame had not heard him creep to where he could see into the clearing. His ebony skin and rough, dark clothes merged into the darkness. The only evidence of his presence was the glowing white of his eyes. He would take his chances. Nothing would keep him from this last glimpse of his daddy.
He knew his
mama would thrash him good when she found out he had come. He could well imagine her fear when she discovered he was gone, but he’d had no choice. He had to. At eleven years of age he was now the man of the house. He couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t do this. He had to say goodbye to his daddy.
“Bring him on, boys!”
A hoarse shout exploded into the still night.
Moses slunk back further into the darkness, every muscle tense with fear.
They were coming!
“The rope’s ready.
There’s soon to be one less nigger to bother us.”
Moses shuddered at the hatred oozing from the unknown, and as yet unseen, man’s voice.
He knew if they found him they wouldn’t hesitate to kill him as well. Killing was in the air tonight. He could feel it as surely as he could feel the velvety leaves brushing against him.
It had started the night before when the slaves on the Manson plantation revolted.
Before the night was over they had killed Master Manson and set fire to his barns. Over fifty slaves had disappeared into the inky Virginia night. News had spread fast to the other plantations. By the end of the night two hundred slaves had made their break for freedom. Moses’s daddy, Sam, had been one of them. Most of them had not gotten far.
The slave owners and overseers had banded together and called their hunting dogs into service.
Sam, along with a large group of slaves unfamiliar with the low-lying swampland northwest of Richmond, had gotten bogged down. Lost and confused, he had been easy prey for the diligent hounds. Word of mass captures had filtered back to the plantations. Everyone knew the one they called the
giant black
could only be Sam. Moses’s mama, in from a long day in the fields, had slapped her hand over her mouth, screamed, and fainted dead away.
Moses was the only one who had overheard the overseer talking on the porch when he delivered some wood to the
big house. Crouched behind a thick bush, risking a beating if he were caught, Moses had heard him say they were going to kill the giant black to teach the others a lesson. He had grabbed his chance, slipping away in the ruckus that followed word of the capture of at least a dozen slaves from their plantation.
