Displaced persons from both sides of the Civil War were arriving to the West in droves, as were deserters, the walking wounded and the downcast limbless. With them, mostly came hope, but also, with some, came the cheapness of life. Two years of bloody strife had whittled away the inherent kindness of many ordinary folk, who remained generally good in heart but had developed an untrusting character as a safeguard. But to others the unbridled, unashamed butchery of this caustic war between cousins just compounded their already miserable existence. So while some rode west in rickety covered...

Bitterness had seeped to the depths of the nation, both North and South, cleaving apart those who had participated in the great struggle from those who had not. The early vigor that had captivated much of the people, on either side, had since worn thin. The continent's youth, the Union's future, initially clamoring to the clever speeches of politicians, eager for duty, and in search of glory, found nothing to substantiate that beguiling political rhetoric once on the battlefield. There, many knew they had been duped as they watched row upon row of their friends and comrades scythed down like...