...Name's Virgil Kane. I'm a Tennessee boy, born and raised, and I suppose you could say I\'ve seen some things. The war saw to that. ...Spring of 1865 found me walking out of a Union prison camp with nothing but the clothes on my back and a leather pouch that wasn't mine. Inside that pouch was everything my little brother Samuel had been carrying when he died—my Pa's watch, a photograph of our family when we were whole, a letter he never finished writing, and a sprig of dried lavender from the girl I loved. A Union officer I'd never met handed me that pouch and told me Samuel's last words. What he said changed everything....Now, you might think a man just out of prison would head straight home. Most did. But I couldn't do it. Couldn't face my Ma and Pa,

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