By the time I was six years old, I knew that Granny would never love me. All of her love went to my cousin, Dan, who was homely as a toad compared to me and not nearly as clever. I was a year older and bigger than Danny, so I hit him whenever Granny wasn’t looking. I gotta say that he was a stubborn scrappy boy who often took a licking at my hands. He never told Granny, but she knew and she turned away from me all the more. One day I came upon her chanting a spell against me – against the ‘Devils spawn’. That’s when I started thinking about killing my cousin, Dan.
As we grew older, we were in constant competition. Granny always said I had the face of an angel and the girls did like me more at first. But in time they preferred Danny’s company. We challenged each other over who could chop the most firewood or cut the most hay in an afternoon. I usually came out ahead as I would stop at nothing to win. I remember the summer day I convinced Dan to cut hay in the north field where I had seen ground hornet nests. He lost that bet.
When we became men our paths drew apart. Dan became a teacher, while I followed my uncles in the family trade: farming and thieving. Granny was outspoken in her praise of Danny, the good boy; Danny, the one with the book learning. In time I grew to hate him. When the war broke out, he joined up with the Rebels and I went to the Union Army. It was then that I decided if Dan didn’t die in the war, I would kill him. (Rebel Traveler, pages 89-95, 235-238)
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