Despite my constant gripe at @Amazon, I do have one success story http://www.amazon.com/dp/B007CJKK84.
Holding Richmond started life as a contest entry but was not allowed to enter because in those days I had trouble making stories last more than 2,000 words.
For some time, I wanted to write a sequel - in a way this is the sequel - but it is also a stand alone story as it relates to the end of Holding Richmond, but doesn't continue in the same vein.
Here is the beginning of my #WIP - Caves of the Undead Spirits.
The guns of the war were silent, and an uneasy truce lay between the former enemies. Fort Harborough had become nothing more than a prison camp for Confederate soldiers unwilling to accede to the new Union. Among the prisoners were Captain Clem Mount, and some of his guerrilla troops. These men had for the last year of the war, ravaged supply lines and attacked troop columns. The soldiers of the Confederacy still looked down on their Union captors, and they may be "white trash,” but these plantation overseers had worked for families with money. They still regarded themselves as better than the northern troops, and in some ways they were. The South had the better horsemen, but the horses from the states of the North were hardier; a quarter-horse is good for showing off, but in battle you need a workhorse, speed doesn't matter when you have guns to pull.
The prisoners walked into the old fort, their chains chafing on bloodied wrists and ankles. Men who had been force marched for weeks stood still as they looked at their surroundings. Clem looked at the wooden structures and thought This is what the new Union is about, dragging up these desolate forts in a desperate attempt to keep us under control. We’ll see about that. Though his mouth was dry, he spat to clear his dry throat. “Sergeant, we’ve been on the march for days, can my men sit down please, and have water?”
Ben Dawkins was a good fighter, he'd seen plenty of action, both before and during the war. “I’ll go and find the officer in charge, and he can decide.”
Clem glanced at the old wooden buildings and replied, “Don't you know who he is?”
Ben wiped his sweaty brow, and said, “No. I was told to bring you here, and report to the officer in charge, other than that I'm in the dark as much as you." The sergeant turned from the column and before he'd gone more than three steps, the door opened, and an officer appeared, “Sergeant Ben Dawkins, reporting from Fort Hilger, sir. Prisoners are accounted for, sir,” Dawkins said with a salute.
The officer replied, “Thank you, Sergeant. I see our guests are tired, and thirsty, and they can have a rest and some water. We've got a big day ahead tomorrow.”
Clem couldn't believe what he'd heard. He looked up at the officer standing on the porch, “ Well, as I live and breathe, Jonas Dawson. I know why I’m here. What did you do wrong to get this hell hole of a posting?”
Jonas glanced at the column of prisoners, and replied, “Clem Mount, I never thought I’d see the day we had you in chains.”
Clem winced and said, “You wouldn't have, if my horse hadn't gone lame on me. I tried to walk to our camps, but your men caught up long before I had a chance.”
Jonas gave a tired smile and replied, “I kept telling you, our horses were better than yours, but you never believed me. I guess that's changed.”
Clem wiped his forehead with his sweat-soaked hat, and continued, "Back to my question, what did you do wrong to get this posting?”
Jonas blinked in the midday sun and answered with a sigh, “Maybe I’ll tell you one day, Clem. Once this job is over.”
A voice from the column called out,”Begging the sirs’ pardon, what is the job?”
Clem smiled, and looked at Jonas, then enquired, “Are you gonna tell us, Jonas?”
The officer wiped his face with a dirty kerchief and replied, “Our job is to rebuild Fort Karnak. The fort was burned to the ground last month, and the army needs that position to maintain control of our flank from attack.”
Jack Mason wiped his dirty face and blinked in the midday sun. He thought for a while, the said, "What you mean is you want us to rebuild your fort. Have you any idea what we’ll be up against out there?”
Jonas turned and said, “I don't like this any more than any of you, but I've got my orders, and I've got to follow them."
Clem slipped his battered cap down, to protect his eyes, then continued. "About your orders. You're from the North, and we've been fighting in this area and know what's out there. If the Indians don't get you, the desert will. That place is hell on Earth, and you're sending these men out there.”
The sweat made Jonas blink as he commented, “As a Southern gentleman I would have thought you would have respected the chain of command, Clem. Obviously, the control of your men has changed your view."
Clem spat into the dirt at his feet, barely missing his boots, the looked his former friend in the face.”Look here, Jonas, I've had my run-ins with officers, but I've never sent my men into a battle we hadn't a chance of surviving. What you're proposing is nothing short of a suicide mission, and for what?
Jack Mason said with a snarl in his voice, “They want us to build the fort, in case the Indians take it in their heads to attack again, Clem. We're nothing more than target practice, and if we die who cares?”
Jonas didn't reply to the statement. He didn't need to answer, Clem and the others knew what Jack said was true. Terry Mabey, a guide, and friend of the Indians, looked at Jonas and said "If that's right, all I can say has we ticked someone off bad. Where we’re heading is known among the scouts as Hells’ Mouth.”
Trooper Carter, not long out of training, asked, “Why’s that Mr. Mabey?”
The old scout ran his fingers, over the grime of his face and commented, "You'll find out soon enough trooper, fast enough.
The ragged clothes he wore had seen better days, but he was one of the best scouts in the wilderness; capable of living off what he caught for months, some people said if he didn't need to report to the fort once a month, he wouldn't come into the town.
Mabey looked across the yard and said, "I'm going to get a meal and wash, I suggest you get some rest; once we leave here, I doubt any of us will get any rest for many weeks- if at all.”