SHE IS GOING TO BE
THE GREATEST ORATOR OF THE CIVIL WAR
Eighteen-year-old Anna Dickinson is nothing like the women around her, and she knows it. Gifted with a powerful voice, a razor-sharp wit, and unbounded energy, the diminutive curlyhead sets out to surpass the men of her day as she rails against slavery and pushes for women’s rights. Only two things can bring her downfall—the entangling love she has for her devoted companion, Julia, and an assassin’s bullet.
Forced to accompany the fiery young orator on her speaking tour of New England, Julia Pennington fights her growing attraction to the ever more popular celebrity. When a traitor sets out to assassinate Anna, Julia must risk her life to save her.
Loosely based on the life of forgotten orator, feminist, and lesbian, Anna Dickinson, That Dickinson Girl is the story of one woman’s rise to fame and fortune at the expense of love during the political and social turmoil of the American Civil War.
An earlier version of That Dickinson Girl was a finalist in the Mslexia Novel Competition.
Follow the tour HERE
Buy Links:
.•*´¨)✯ ¸.•*¨) ✮ ( ¸.•´✶
Half an hour later, Anna gave her signature bow and released the shivers she’d stoppered inside. They’d survived another day.
“You shortened
the speech,” Julia said, hastening to her with her shawl and coat.
“Bah.
Their minuscule brains couldn’t handle more.” Julia helped her into her coat.
Anna buttoned it up. “I am getting tired of facing down these Copperhead snakes
at every speech.” She glanced at Julia. The girl’s lips were blue with cold.
“Let’s find you a nice warm fire.”
“There should
be one at the hotel.” Julia tugged on her cape and draped Anna’s shawl over her
shoulders.
Anna looped
arms with her, and together they walked out of the church. On the threshold,
they halted under the sheltering overhang. Rain still poured down. From the
mountain of coal waste shadowing the town, a froth of gray black culm ran down
the road and gathered around the step. Anna clamped her teeth together and
slowly lifted her skirts.
“Wait.” A hand
brushed her sleeve.
“Yes?” She
turned and discovered a man shorter than herself peering up at her. Wrapped in
a plaid cloth, he stood round-shouldered, his face a patchwork of leathery
skin, gray eyes, and grizzled beard.
“Dear lady, I’d
come to curse you, I did. I firmly believe a woman’s place is in the home.
Well, but now I’ve aheard you, and I think surely God has sent you, an angel
out of heaven, to fight for justice.”
He paused, his
tongue sweeping over his lips, as if testing to see if the words were really
his. “Ain’t an educated man. Ain’t seen the world. Spent my days in the dark
well of the mine where thinking too hard puts you on the blacklist. But believe
me; I never heard anyone speak like you did today. You’re not like those
politicians. Heard you punch out at evil and wrong. Heard you agree that
allowing the rich to pay their way out of the draft is unfair.”
He looked away,
not at the town, but at the sky. “You should understand why we’re angry. The
miners here, when they’re drafted, their little boys and their old, bent
fathers must go into the mine to keep food on the table. But today, you’ve made
me see a broader view—why we must win this war.”
He scowled.
“But miss, I envy the slave and the soldier lucky to have your voice speaking
out for them. So, I made a prayer back there to God.” He pointed back inside
the church. “Someday … someday soon, when the war be done and over, you come
back here and use that voice from the angels to fight for a better life for us
miners. Will you please?”
“Justice is my
mission. Worker’s rights, people’s rights, my cause.” Anna put a hand on either
side of his head, bent over, and bestowed a kiss on his pate. She straightened
up. “When I return, I will visit your—”
Splat.
Wood splintered
behind her.
Anna spun
around and slapped at her hair.
A look of
horror flashed across the miner’s face. “Down.” He dropped to the ground and
crawled back into the church.
“Get down,”
Julia echoed and thrust Anna onto the muddy steps, covering her body with hers.
“Someone shot at you.”
“No. Let me
up.” Anna rolled out from under Julia’s weight and staggered to her feet. “I
will not cower.”
Another shot
passed over her head and struck the frame of the church door. Chips of molding
flew up like startled birds. The noise reverberated off the clapboard houses
that tipped up and down the street and echoed through the hills.
Her body went
numb with the sound then rebounded like a soldier under fire, full of heat,
primed to kill or to run. Anna squinted into the rain, searching for her
attacker, aware that she and Julia stood exposed. She called out, her voice
sharper than any saber, “Cowards! Hiding behind a gun. Come out and face me.”
She spread her arms out wide and descended the steps. If they thought she would
turn and flee, she’d never be allowed on the platform again. No one worshipped
a victim. “Are you afraid of me? A girl?”
Joan blogs at JoanKoster.com, Women Words and Wisdom, American Civil War Voice, Zara West Romance, and Zara West’s Journal and teaches numerous online writing courses.
Social Media Links:
Website Amazon Author Page Newsletter SignUp BookBub Goodreads Facebook
Twitter Pinterest Instagram Research Gate Linked-in YouTube Goodreads Book Link
Thank you very much for hosting Joan Koster today. Much appreciated. x
ReplyDeleteMy pleasure.
DeleteAlways a pleasure.
DeleteThank you sharing Anna Dickinson's story and having me on your blog today.
ReplyDelete