Barry Ray
Very few who didn’t know their family backgrounds could tell these southern youngsters apart, and indeed, their coincidental similarities were almost frightening. Both had lost their mother at birth, and this after both women had successfully delivered three older boys. In 1855, they were both fifteen years old, dark complexioned, with rich brown curly locks. Both were big for their age, and each had been doing man’s work since they were ten. Their features were even similar: large nose, generous lips, wide-set blue eyes, and strong, protruding chin. Although both of these boys shared a genius for getting into mischief, neither of them was dominant. When one had an idea, the other just naturally went for it. They lived for their shared competition, and one would win as often as the other would. Their only bone of contention, and again based on sharing, was their professed love for the same girl. When they grew up, it was a different matter entirely. They went in completely different ways. One turned good. One turned evil.
