I have in mind. This cannot continue in my office, Sadie. I mean it.”
Josh was this close to preening over Ray laying the blame at my feet when our boss pointed a finger
in his direction and said, “And that goes for you too, Josh. You’re dividing the staff,
distracting them from their duties, and most importantly, causing extra stress for
me when I should be coasting through my last few months here, and I just can’t have
that. I expected better from both of you. So, to help speed along your journey to
behaving like two civil adults, I have a little project for you.”
Ray tossed pamphlets at us. This time, Vaughn caught his, glaring at me as if Ray’s
launching meeting materials at our heads was somehow my fault. I glanced down at the
glossy paper in my hand and saw that it was for the Columbus-Belmont Civil War Days.
As in all things, Kentucky’s position in the Civil War was a unique one. The commonwealth
was one of the few neutral states and was considered vital by Lincoln because of its
location. But the population’s loyalty was seriously divided over issues of states’
rights and the fact that Kentucky farmers sent tobacco and whiskey to markets in both
the North and the South.
In 1861, Confederate troops claimed the hills above the Mississippi River, at the
site that would become Columbus-Belmont State Park, and that neutrality was broken.
Union troops moved through Paducah, eventually taking over Belmont, Missouri, just
across the river, prompting Southern troops to rally around the so-called Columbus
Heights and keep heavy artillery trained on the river. The siege was short-lived and
the Confederates were soon cut off from their support by Union victories in Tennessee.
The Heights were now a state park, complete with campgrounds and a walking trail around
the preserved Confederate fortifications. Each year, in October, history buffs gathered
at Columbus-Belmont for a reenactment of the battle, a Civil War Ball, and a memorial
service for the fallen. It was like stepping back in time for a day, wearing the period-appropriate
clothes and eating food cooked over an open fire. Kids milled around the campground,
visiting the blacksmith’s tent, the glassblower, and the toymaker’s tent while their
parents munched on kettle corn and candied apples. The office staff attended the encampment
every year as volunteers, answering questions, leading student groups, and offering
advice on how to remove candied apple from one’s hair.
“The fall encampment has become so popular that the park is adding a summer event
as a sort of training for people who are interested in participating but don’t know
how to get in contact with a reenactors’ group,” Ray said. “The state park director
wants the summer encampment to be part history boot camp, part orientation. They’re
planning workshops on appropriate dress and weapons and behavior. And they’ll have
vendors set up on-site to help participants start their stash of supplies.
“And because I know that the two of you are eager to help launch this wonderful new
event, you will be happy to work together to organize a campaign to promote it. Here’s
your budget and the contact information. Your deadline is June first. Play nice.”
Ray dropped the folder on the conference room table and walked out.
“Is that the way he normally conducts meetings?” Vaughn asked.
“Throwing things at us and talking like he’s a high school principal? Pretty much
par for the course, yes.”
“Where do you want to start?” he asked, stepping closer to get a better look at the
paperwork Ray had left behind. He reached around me to grab a file folder, his arm
sliding against the small of my back. Yet another electric shock skittered up my spine,
making me jump and fumble right into him. Off-kilter in my trademark heels, I pressed
my hands to his chest to catch my balance. Too close! Too close! my
Josh was this close to preening over Ray laying the blame at my feet when our boss pointed a finger
in his direction and said, “And that goes for you too, Josh. You’re dividing the staff,
distracting them from their duties, and most importantly, causing extra stress for
me when I should be coasting through my last few months here, and I just can’t have
that. I expected better from both of you. So, to help speed along your journey to
behaving like two civil adults, I have a little project for you.”
Ray tossed pamphlets at us. This time, Vaughn caught his, glaring at me as if Ray’s
launching meeting materials at our heads was somehow my fault. I glanced down at the
glossy paper in my hand and saw that it was for the Columbus-Belmont Civil War Days.
As in all things, Kentucky’s position in the Civil War was a unique one. The commonwealth
was one of the few neutral states and was considered vital by Lincoln because of its
location. But the population’s loyalty was seriously divided over issues of states’
rights and the fact that Kentucky farmers sent tobacco and whiskey to markets in both
the North and the South.
In 1861, Confederate troops claimed the hills above the Mississippi River, at the
site that would become Columbus-Belmont State Park, and that neutrality was broken.
Union troops moved through Paducah, eventually taking over Belmont, Missouri, just
across the river, prompting Southern troops to rally around the so-called Columbus
Heights and keep heavy artillery trained on the river. The siege was short-lived and
the Confederates were soon cut off from their support by Union victories in Tennessee.
The Heights were now a state park, complete with campgrounds and a walking trail around
the preserved Confederate fortifications. Each year, in October, history buffs gathered
at Columbus-Belmont for a reenactment of the battle, a Civil War Ball, and a memorial
service for the fallen. It was like stepping back in time for a day, wearing the period-appropriate
clothes and eating food cooked over an open fire. Kids milled around the campground,
visiting the blacksmith’s tent, the glassblower, and the toymaker’s tent while their
parents munched on kettle corn and candied apples. The office staff attended the encampment
every year as volunteers, answering questions, leading student groups, and offering
advice on how to remove candied apple from one’s hair.
“The fall encampment has become so popular that the park is adding a summer event
as a sort of training for people who are interested in participating but don’t know
how to get in contact with a reenactors’ group,” Ray said. “The state park director
wants the summer encampment to be part history boot camp, part orientation. They’re
planning workshops on appropriate dress and weapons and behavior. And they’ll have
vendors set up on-site to help participants start their stash of supplies.
“And because I know that the two of you are eager to help launch this wonderful new
event, you will be happy to work together to organize a campaign to promote it. Here’s
your budget and the contact information. Your deadline is June first. Play nice.”
Ray dropped the folder on the conference room table and walked out.
“Is that the way he normally conducts meetings?” Vaughn asked.
“Throwing things at us and talking like he’s a high school principal? Pretty much
par for the course, yes.”
“Where do you want to start?” he asked, stepping closer to get a better look at the
paperwork Ray had left behind. He reached around me to grab a file folder, his arm
sliding against the small of my back. Yet another electric shock skittered up my spine,
making me jump and fumble right into him. Off-kilter in my trademark heels, I pressed
my hands to his chest to catch my balance. Too close! Too close! my
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