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White Doves at Morning A Novel [Paperback]

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  • Category: Books (Fiction)
  • Author:  Burke, James Lee
  • Author:  Burke, James Lee
  • ISBN-10:  1476746222
  • ISBN-10:  1476746222
  • ISBN-13:  9781476746227
  • ISBN-13:  9781476746227
  • Publisher:  Gallery Books
  • Publisher:  Gallery Books
  • Pages:  464
  • Pages:  464
  • Binding:  Paperback
  • Binding:  Paperback
  • Pub Date:  01-Nov-2013
  • Pub Date:  01-Nov-2013
  • SKU:  1476746222-11-MPOD
  • SKU:  1476746222-11-MPOD
  • Item ID: 100309370
  • List Price: $27.99
  • Seller: ShopSpell
  • Ships in: 2 business days
  • Transit time: Up to 5 business days
  • Delivery by: Dec 28 to Dec 30
  • Notes: Brand New Book. Order Now.
A riveting evocation of the Civil War, drawn from the true family history of America's best novelist (The Denver Post), JAMES LEE BURKE

1861. Two young Southerners, friends despite their differing political views and backgrounds, enlist in the 18th Louisiana regiment of the Confederate Army: Robert Perry, wealthy and privileged, and irreverent Willie Burke, the son of Irish immigrants, face the trials of battle and find redemption in the love of a passionate and committed abolitionist, Abigail Downing, and in the courageous struggle of Flower Jamison, a beautiful slave. Filled with a cast of unforgettable characters, and penetrating a landscape of shattering Civil War bloodshed as few novels have, this epic from an American literary giant endows readers with the gift of experiencing the past through new eyes, while its timeless prose style -- at once luminous and brutal -- ensures the legacy of this bloodiest of conflicts will never be lost.Chapter One: 1837

The black woman's name was Sarie, and when she crashed out the door of the cabin at the end of the slave quarters into the fading winter light, her lower belly bursting with the child that had already broken her water, the aftermath of the ice storm and the sheer desolate sweep of leaf-bare timber and frozen cotton acreage and frost-limned cane stalks seemed to combine and strike her face like a braided whip.

She trudged into the grayness of the woods, the male shoes on her feet pocking the snow, her breath streaming out of the blanket she wore on her head like a monk's cowl. Ten minutes later, deep inside the gum and persimmon and oak trees, her clothes strung with air vines that were silver with frost, the frozen leaves cracking under her feet, she heard the barking of the dogs and the yelps of their handlers who had just released them.

She splashed into a slough, one that bled out of the woods into the dark swirl of the river where it made a bend through the l#H
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