A while back, I wrote a column about the First Cavalry from Winston County, Alabama. In it, I mentioned two rare books — “Tories of the Hills” by Thomas and “The Free State of Winston” by Dodd — that tell the remarkable story of a fiercely independent people who stood apart during the Civil War.
While most of Alabama joined the Confederacy, Winston County refused. Its residents believed secession was wrong, and they stood by that conviction even when it cost them dearly. I admired that courage and wrote that I had searched high and low for those books but could never find them. Both were long out of print and nearly impossible to locate.
That column ran quite some time ago, and I hadn’t thought much more about it. Then, one day, an unexpected email arrived — from a gentleman in Winston County. He had read my column and told me he owned copies of both books. He offered to send them to me if I promised to return them when I finished reading. I gladly agreed, touched by the simple trust of a stranger who wanted to share a piece of his local history.
About a week later, he wrote again. This time, he said he had managed to find printed copies — not only of Tories of the Hills but also The Free State of Winston. Though neither book had been published in decades, he had tracked down reissued editions that were sold at a play titled The Free State of Winston and wanted to send them both to me to keep.
When the package arrived, I opened it carefully, almost reverently. The books were crisp and new, but they carried with them the spirit of another time. I sat there for a while just holding them, thinking about how they had traveled from a small Alabama county to my home — sent not by a company or an algorithm, but by one man’s kindness.
We live in a world that often encourages caution. We’re told to doubt the motives of others, to guard our trust, to be skeptical. But then something like this happens — a simple act of generosity that cuts through all the noise and cynicism. A stranger, hundreds of miles away, took the time and effort to share something valuable with someone he had never met.
That gesture wasn’t just about books. It was about connection. It reminded me that beneath all our differences and distractions, there is still a deep reservoir of goodness in people — a willingness to give, to trust and to care.
