The American Civil War has entered its second bloody year. On March 3rd 1863 the U.S Congress passed the Enrollment Act which required the states to draft men to fight in the American Civil War. 

A young man walks home from his father’s workshop. His hair is black and messy and he wore a cunning grin on his face. His face had splotches of soot and grease on it. He passed by other folks and gave them a wave and as he walked on by. They never noticed until it was too late that he took their wallet. Ridley Anthony Lorn was a mischievous young man, full of youth and pepper. He lived with his father and his younger sister. 

As he walked a few more blocks he suddenly heard the sound of a familiar voice. “Hey Ridley!” A voice called out. Ridley turned and saw another young man waving at him. He was about five foot three and had an enormous coat that clearly was way too big for him. He scappered up to Ridley with a toothy grin. 

“Ridley! I got a thing happening in a few days. Cops are too busy with dealing with the war to notice and a bunch of folks from New York are coming in here in the next few days. Want in? We might be able to con the whole field and eat like kings for days. Just a good old regular wake snakes sort of day.” The young man said. Ridley tilted his head in thought but returned the smile. 

“Sure, Jimmy. Give me the rundown tomorrow. I’ll see if I can slip out of work again. What’s going around?” Ridley asked. Jimmy gave him a puzzled thought for a moment.

“Think Steve is not up to dick. Probably has a stomach bug.” Jimmy said as he wiped his nose with his dirty coat sleeve. 

“Perfect. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” Ridley said with a grin of his own mischievous nature as he turned on his heels and continued on his walk. Jimmy scurried off with a quick shuffle and a paranoid look as if someone was listening in on their conversation. 

“He’s definitely mad as hops.” Ridley said to himself as he pulled out the wallet he stole. He quietly counted the bills from the wallet he had in his hand before discarding it. His family didn’t approve of his thievery but to him it was better than eating stale bread and old meat. The war meant that there was a high demand for metal and equipment which in the end resulted in Ridley working longer than he wanted to, missing out on hanging out with his friends and taking part in their gambling shenanigans; where he viewed the real money to be made. Of course he wasn’t the only one who was working in his father’s workshop with him.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

A young blonde woman walked up beside Ridley. She had about the same if not more soot and tar staining her face and fingers than Ridley. She dusted herself off and attempted to wipe the grime off her face. Ridley looked at her and only gave a grin.

“Ahh little Samclam is all messy.” He said in a taunting manner. The woman looked up at him with a sour look on her face. Her name is Samantha Lorn and for the past two decades she lived with Ridley and their father. She had long blonde hair that was folded up into a bun and covered by a dirty green rag. She wore small glasses that were dirty and slightly cracked. She was dressed in the typical 19th century worker fashion. This meant that the overalls and shirt she had on was too big for her and she had to be careful where she walked as her boots were too large as well. 

Samantha cleaned her glasses and looked up at her brother. “How much did you get this time?” She asked him in a disappointing tone. Ridley’s face turned a brighter shade of red and fumbled with the money in his hand.

“Uh, nothing like that, Samclam. Just good honest work is all.” He said with a hint of anxiety in his tone. She looked up at him with a skeptical look as she placed her glasses back on. 

“Just don’t let father find out and pick up some meat later if you can, please?” Samantha said. Ridley looked at her with a smile.

“Why dearest sister. You confuse me for a troublemaker. I say I am on my utmost behavior. Would I tell you a thumper?” Ridley said as he pocketed the money. “And I must say, if I were such a rascally rambunctious scoundrel, that my future is looking bright regardless.” Ridley said as he turned around and started to head back home. Samantha watched him walk away and gave a heavy sigh. She was tired and it was time to go home anyway and have dinner.  

Their home was a small place but warm and cozy. Their father was sitting in a rickety old chair out front with a piece of paper in his hand and sadness in his eyes. 

“Father, why so down?” Ridley said as he jumped up to him with a cheerful tone. His father didn’t say anything as he turned his head towards Ridley. His eyes made Ridley uncomfortable.

“Okay, dad. What’s up? Someone died?” Ridley asked. His father only nodded his head towards the door. 

“Inside. I need to talk to you.” He said in a soft voice. The man stood up, brushed his face and walked inside. Ridley stood out there dumbfounded. Samantha followed behind him. 

“I have a bad feeling about this.” She said. Ridley turned to her with a cocky smile. 

“Fear not, little one. I, your dearest brother, will protect you. Nothing to worry about.” He said as he opened the door and walked in.