Dan Kelly was a young man, seventeen to be precise. He had sleek, tawny hair, eyes the color of fresh sage, and freckles sprinkled across his youthful face (which he was often made fun of for). He was quite genial and civil, although he made foolish decisions every now and then. He had a twinkle in his eye, and he often got himself into trouble. On July 17, 1860 he was walking down the street in his hometown of Augusta, Maine. He slipped into the bakery, unnoticed by Mrs. Richards, and grabbed one of her luscious, jelly-filled doughnuts.   Just as he was about to bolt, she saw him and spoke, ¨Danny! Whatever are you doing here? Shouldn´t you be in school?¨ Dan quickly stuffed the doughnut into his pocket before she could see it, and the jelly slowly oozed out into his pocket. He smiled at her calmly, and spoke to her for a while, being his charming self, explaining that he didn't have school that day because he was sick. Well, apparently he wasn't, as he would had to have walked five miles to get to her bakery.

He looked around at the shelves upon shelves of sugary desserts, and looked at them longingly. If only he could taste them all. Mrs. Richards grew suspicious, but Dan smiled at her again, his hands behind his back, ¨Your face is ever so beautiful this morning! Milady...may I ask, how do you do it? It’s unbelievable!¨ She chuckled, blushing, ¨Oh stop it! Run along now, and go to school for goodness sakes!¨ Dan gave her one last grin before turning around and sprinting out the door. She noticed the doughnut jelly on his back pocket as he left, and began chasing after him, anger apparent in her voice, ¨You come back here this instant, Mr. Kelly! I mean it!” Unfortunately, she was an older woman, and had grown quite plump after eating her desserts and meals for several years. Soon she couldn chase him any longer, and walked back to her store with a huff, her cheeks bright red. She was determined to let Danś father know about this.

His father is a well-known, highly esteemed lawyer, and she knew that kind, brilliant man would never stand for his sonś behavior. Dan spent the rest of the day swimming in a nearby lake with his friend (who had also skipped school that day as well), and he also split the sweet, powdery doughnut as well. Dan told Allen how he had come to get it, and he fell on the ground, dying of laughter as the story ended.  

That night, he went home, sneaking in through his window. His father met him with an angry glare, and Dan gulped, ¨That poor, sweet lady Mrs. Richards told me what you did today. I am very ashamed of your behavior. And, I saw your teacher today. He said you didn't attend school today. What is wrong with you!? What have you been doing!?¨ Danny frowned, his hands clenched together behind his back.

Dan lays on his stomach in his soft bed, pen in hand. He shakes it to get the ink flowing, and accidently splatters some on his bed sheets. He growls softly, writing in his journal, which had a leather cover:

It is December 14, 1860. Tensions have been growing between the northern and southern states for quite some time now, and fights have been breaking out. Even some have died in these quarrels, including my own father. The southerners seem to be on the brink of a rebellion. They have farms that need to be worked, so many of them use slaves. They don’t see the African Americans as people, or if they do, they don’t seem to care. We know it’s wrong. What has become of our country? He set the pen down on his nightstand, standing up and walking quickly downstairs to find a cloth to clean up the ink. Dan had been very tempermental since his father’s death, as he loved him very much. He couldn’t get over it. But really, who could?

He was almost finished with eighth grade, but had been getting bad grades recently because he had taken up a job to support his family, and he often didn’t have time to do his homework. He had a little sister named Rosie, who was five years old, a little brother named Jacob, who was nine, and of course his beautiful mother, Susan. He loved his mother with all of his heart. Carrying the burden of protecting them, and making money to support them had made him more mature, but more stressed out as well. He often yelled at his little siblings, scaring them. He slowly grew distant from them, and focused only on his work and politics. At the end of winter, his little sister died from scarlet fever, and that left him even more devastated. By age eighteen, he finally finished eighth grade with mostly Cs, but at least he passed. One night, he writes in his journal: “It is March 15, 1861. This winter, my beloved sister, Rosie, died from the scarlet fever..

My whole family is devastated by her loss, and my poor mother has cried for hours, night after night. I don’t know what to do. I have found a new job that will pay more, and therefore I can assure that my mother and my brother live comfortably, with access to the best doctors if ever they get sick. My mother doesn’t want me to join the military, but I know that it’ll be better this way. I need more discipline and order in my life, and I will be leaving home next week. I wish my family well, and I if they ever see this, I just want to let you know how much I love both of you.” Dan began to cry softly, covering his tired eyes. He knew he wasn’t to bring many personal items with him, as the army, he knew, would supply everything he needed. After mass that Sunday, he packed an outfit or two (only for the trip), his toothbrush, his rifle, and some dried meat and fruit. The next morning, he kissed his brother and his mother goodbye, whispering to them softly, “I’ll be fine. You’ll be happy when I send money home to you!

You can buy new clothes, mother, and Jacob, you can buy enough candy to share with all of your friends at school!” He smiled, masking his sadness, “I’ll work hard. Whenever I fight I’ll be thinking of you.” His brother hugged him tightly, “Dan...please don’t get hurt! I heard that the South is beginning to rebel, which means you could end up fighting them. They are Americans too, you know, which means they’re smart. They fight hard. If you see the man that killed dad, you kick his butt!” Dan nodded firmly, “If I see him, I’ll make sure he pays for what he did. I promise.” Dan saddled up his shiny, dark bay mare tying his supplies onto her back, and soon he was off. He waved goodbye to hos mother, Susan, and his little brother one last time before he began trotting down the long, dirt road. His horse had a bright white marking between her eyes, and it was shaped like a bird, so therefore Dan had named her Dove. She definitely lived up to her name, as she was very sweet and calm, even when she heard sudden, loud noises or saw scary things.

Strangely, she was born to be a war horse. You’d think that a war horse should be crazy and violent, but that’s not at all true. No soldier wants to injure themselves by being bucked off in the middle of battle, do they? They want a horse they can trust. Danny patted her neck gently, and she looked back at him with her sweet, intellegent eyes. Dan chuckled, “I’m glad I found you my sweet, sweet girl!” She nickered softly, looking back towards the road in front of her. That night, Dan stopped under a tree, unsaddling Dove and letting her roam around and graze. He knew she’d never wander far. He set up a small, gray tent, pulling his woolen blanket up over his head. It was a cold night, and finally the chilly breeze had made it’s way through the small rips in the fabric of his tent, causing his ears and nose to turn red and go numb.

He woke up in the middle of the night, shivering, and began to write in his journal once more:

“It’s April 1st, 1861. Abraham Lincoln has been the president for some time now, and the southerners feel very threatened by this. They are afraid he’ll force them to set their slaves free (which, in my opinion, I believe to be very good.) I am absolutely against slavery, and my opinions will never change. Some say they’re only people! I believe that the South is going to rebel very soon, and I’m going to fight to avenge my father’s death. I am currently on my way to join the army, but I’m afraid I won’t get much sleep tonight.” Danny set down his pen with a soft groan, and went out of his tent to sit by his horse and stay warm. He doubted he’d fall asleep that night anyways, and knew it was better to be awake and warm than awake and cold. To his dismay, he couldn’t find Dove anywhere. She couldn’t have run off, could she?

Moments later, he heard a rustle in the bushes, and went to investigate. But, unfortunately, it turned out to be a rabbit., and not his horse. He heard a strange sound coming from deeper within the woods, and sighed uncomfortably. It would be too dark to see if he went any further, but he needed to find Dove. He took a deep breath, walking cautiously forwards. Suddenly, someone (or something) hit his head from behind, and he sunk to the ground knocked out cold. The next day he woke up to the sound of his horse snorting, and opened his eyes. He was tied to the back of Dove, and saw another man was riding her. He was a southerner. Dan yelled in anger, “Let me go! You ugly, no good, son of a -” the man turned around in the saddle quickly, slapping him across the face so he couldn’t finish his sentence, “Keep quiet, or I’ll rip out your spine and beat you with it!” Danny just sputtered in laughter, trying to keep himself calm.

He was also confident in his ability to fight, “You wish..” The southerner cocked his gun, smirking, “I’d be careful if I were you. I used this same gun to kill your father..” Dan froze and he felt a lump form in his throat. His mouth dried almost instantly in fear. Was this truly the man who killed his father? Anger and sadness burned in his heart, and he managed to let out one soft word, “W-why?” The southerner ignored him, looking down the dirt road in front of them. Dove kicked up a lot of dust, and it made Dan’s nose and throat sting badly. He needed a drink of water badly. He coughed, and tears began coming out of his eyes. Dan coughed, yelling, his voice breaking, “What do you want from me!?” Pvt. Coleman smiled, just out of the corner of his thin lips, his short, blond hair blowing in the cold breeze, “I want you to fight on my side. The south is planning an attack on Fort Sumter in just a few days. Your father was obviously a brilliant man, and a great leader too. I’m hoping you’ll be the same way.