This is story about the Civil War.... Dedicated to Cecily Kohler for whom this story is named after. *** A story of how the Civil War could change a naive, silly, arrogant little girl, into a strong young woman. Chapter One Cecily rushed up the stairs, Not too fast, she reminded her self. For mother wants me to be a lady. Her lacy pink dress fell in waves down to her slippered feet that padded softly on the polished steps. "Hazel!" She called, a little furious at the maid not being in her room already, for she had to go to class and if she was late the schoolmaster would make her do extra French, and she hated French. Coming missus Hazel came bustling along and opened the door to her room for her. Cecily swooshed in with an arrogant air and sat down at her vanity. The velvet chair was a little bumpy for her haunches so she switched positions and snapped: "Hurry up, Hazel and get my hair done. I want some peonies pinned in the bun and satin ribbon, too. yes, Ma'am." Hazel obediently brushed Cecily's long, dark hair to shining perfection then braiding it and twisting it round her head she stuffed some pins in her mouth and took them out when she needed them. In ten minutes Cecily's hair was beautiful and she herself felt like a queen as she put on some fake pearl earrings. "You look right pretty, ma'am." Hazel wistfully looked at her handsome mistress. "Good." Cecily sniffed, "Now, should I stay in my pink dress or put on my red one?" "Whatever one you feel best in, my lady, you look dashin' in both." "I shall keep on this pink one then." She motioned over her long pink skirt which was a dazzling array of lace, ribbons, bows and other such things one might want on a dress. Cecily gathered up her books in a satchel and went through the hall, down the stairs and out the door into the crisp autumn morning. How I love this time of year! She breathed the delicious wood-smoke through her nose, I love the caramel apples, toasty fires and the wind on my face. If only school were out, it would be better than ever. For then I could curl up with a book by the fire place and watch all the youngsters go out and play in the blustery afternoons. She snapped out of her reverie by hearing a loud amount of crashing and yelling boys, she snapped her head in the direction she heard it and screamed! Three thundering horses were coming straight at her, her heart caught in her throat and her feet were rooted to the ground. Their blowing nostrils were red and their sides were foaming, she saw their wild eyes rolling with fright! A body knocked into hers and sent her sprawling in the leaves next to someone else, panting. The horses galloped by, their thundering hooves would have smashed her, she realized. Inches from death, as some call it. "Are you ok, Miss?" She was still in a haze, but she recognized the voice enough to realize it was male. "I-I-believe so," She gasped for breath. "Just a little whoozy." The boy stood up and grasped her hand firmly to help her up, she stood up with leaves sticking to her. She immediately started brushing herself off. then forgetting that she turned to the one who saved her life. It was a tall, roguish sort of fellow with ruddy cheeks and laughing eyes. Her cheeks burned. "Sure your alright?" He asked, his brown eyes a little concerned. "Y-yes, I'm fine." Cecily tried smiling but instead her eyes filled with tears. "Did I-I almost die?" His face went solemn, "Yes, Miss. I'm 'fraid you almost did." He hesitated, "Franklins' horses spooked and I was watching the whole thing a ways away, I don't like how he handles his animals," The boys face went dark, "He was goofing around and they tore away from him and ran off, I saw you standing there, so helpless...Pa always told me that men protect ladies, and I figgered one way or another, my pa was right." "Why, th-thank you." She stammered, she was going to say more but some young gentlemen of the upper class were laughing at them. "You making lady-friends there, Vincent?" Cecily turned and saw twenty feet away three young men, one of them was John Turner! She and her friends thought him extremely handsome. Cecily almost died of embarrassment when she realized that the boy who saved her life was the son of a barrel maker. She recognized him from when her and her friends went parading through the streets. She turned to Vincent, "I-I must go," "Yes, you better." Vincent went grim as he walked away from the laughing young men and the young lady who seemed embarrassed.