Those Who Went Remain There Still - Plot & Excerpts
I had them by the bushel. Same as everyone else I was born there, at home. And same as everyone else I was brought up confused, and hateful in a way. It could be that we’re just a fractious lot, as old Heaster Jr. used to say. Maybe we were all born ready to squabble and we wouldn’t have liked one another anyhow, but most people blamed the feuding on the war. You had to blame it on something, if you weren’t going to blame it on yourself. The way things split up was like this: Heaster Jr. was the great granddaddy of us all—either by blood or by marriage. And by blood or by marriage, most of his offspring (leastways, most of us who stayed in the valley) had wound up wearing one of two last names, Coy or Mander. When the war broke out and Kentucky was asked to choose sides, we went both ways on both sides of the church rows, but it mostly broke down by family lines. The Manders sent eleven sons, brothers, and cousins up to the Union. They got seven of them back. The Coys sent thirteen sons, brothers, and cousins to the Confederacy.
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