Enemy Women: A Novel

Enemy Women: A Novel

Paulette Jiles

Language: English

Pages: 232

ISBN: 2:00172582

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


For the Colleys of southeastern Missouri, the War between the States is a plague that threatens devastation, despite the family’s avowed neutrality. For eighteen-year-old Adair Colley, it is a nightmare that tears apart her family and forces her and her sisters to flee. The treachery of a fellow traveler, however, brings about her arrest, and she is caged with the criminal and deranged in a filthy women’s prison.

But young Adair finds that love can live even in a place of horror and despair. Her interrogator, a Union major, falls in love with her and vows to return for her when the fighting is over. Before he leaves for battle, he bestows upon her a precious gift: freedom.

Now an escaped "enemy woman," Adair must make her harrowing way south buoyed by a promise . . . seeking a home and a family that may be nothing more than a memory.

Disparues sous le signe de l'infini

Fractures du dimanche

Le Jour des corneilles

Un souffle venu de loin

Contes d'appartenance

The Black Joke

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

mechanical thing. Adair drew the heavy stick back like a baseball bat and took two steps forward and swung. She smashed it into the stout woman’s uplifted arm and sparks flew from the flaming end and shattered over their skirts. When she struck it made a cracking sound on Cloris’s forearm. Cloris shouted several syllables that were not in any language Adair knew and reached and took the burning end of the stick and tore it from Adair’s grasp. Stop! Stop! Rhoda Cobb took hold of Adair around the

hangar on a hat rack, and as he turned to sit down his elbow knocked into it and it rattled in little metallic crashes on its chain. He took up his papers. She felt a tremor start up in her hands and she hid them in her skirt. Miss Colley, you have been here for three weeks. He jiggled the papers. Imagine that. He was saying something just to have something to say. Time just flies by when a person is in good company, she said. Jolly evenings of improving readings around the fire. The room was

lay in a line of ink. It has been deserted since the Mexican War of 1846. It is older than the Nachitoches and the Military. It is as old as the Shawnee. It is called the Atchafalaya Road, or Stanger’s Steep. John ran a dotted line toward the crossing of the Black River to the west. The road of bandits and lost tribes. It was made in the beginning of the world. It is a trace that has its own mind. He wiped the nib on a leaf of flannel mullein and dipped it again. It was on this route that chief

for her journey; she and Greasy John cut the ham into pieces and fried them, then tied them into four separate bundles. They gave her ten pounds of bolted cornmeal and half that of flour, a tin of saleratus to raise the cornbread, a hard, sticky package of dried apples and a cloth sack of salt. He threw in a roll of hempen rope for picket lines. At evening time, Asa saddled a brown mule and rode off down the Military. Before long he came back with a bridle and a sidesaddle. It was considerable

news about North Carolina; a battle at Bentonville and then more descriptions of the burning of Columbia. Then there was an article about a Lieutenant Davis who took a scout down into the swamp country beside the Mississippi and killed a Confederate named Lieutenant Reed. Hildebrand was chased by a patrol of Militia to Dent’s Station on the Iron Mountain Railroad. The Seventh Kansas Volunteers found more Confederates below Bloomington in the swamps and killed most of them. There were no names of

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