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“No one’s going to take Quesinberry land!”

With that brave promise, eighteen-year-old Oliver Quesinberry leaves his young wife Mahala, his infant son, and the family farm to join the Confederates and preserve his treasured piece of the South from the Northern aggressors. Confident that the war will be over in a few months, he is assigned as drummer to the 29th Virginia Regiment. In his absence, his parents Abigail and Andrew struggle to keep the farm going, caring for five young children as their grown sons all enlist. But when Andrew also enlists and leaves Abigail alone, she must call on every resource of strength and intelligence to overcome her heartbreak and fear to emerge as the unbreakable backbone of her family. On the front lines of the Civil War, Oliver comes under the command of General James Longstreet and then General George Pickett, putting him in the middle of the infamous conflict at Gettysburg that came to be known as “Pickett’s Charge.” From the unfathomable courage and endurance of the family at home to the heartbreak and bitterness of Oliver’s service at the front, The Last Drumbeat is a compelling family saga that follows the Quesinberry family from the first days of the Civil War in 1861 to its conclusion with Lee’s surrender at Appomattox in 1865.

The news of the death of my brothers was delivered as would be the news of lost horses or saddles. "Your brothers did not return for duty, Oliver. They are among the missing." Officer Moore said, without emotion, his eyes gazing somewhere above my head. I felt a strong sensation in my chest and the tent seemed to close around me. I felt the rapid beating of my heart, but more palpable was a pain I had never felt before, a squeezing and a twisting. "When, Sir?" I asked, hardly moving my lips. I studied him closely, looking for any hint or clue about my brothers' fate, but I could find none. "Where have they fallen? I helped bury many who fell on the field at Chancellorsville. My brothers were not among them. I was told they might have been transferred to the 63rd Tennessee." "I know not when or where they died. They are gone, Oliver. They are on my list of missing soldiers." Officer Moore pointed to a paper on his field desk. The thud of his finger against the wood produced the same sensation in my chest and I struggled to catch my breath. "Do you know , Sir, where I might find their graves? I would go there and say a prayer. I would like to say goodbye to my brothers. It would give some comfort to my parents that I know where they are buried and that I said a prayer for them." "It's of no use. Thousands of boys are gone and buried, your brothers among them." I again studied him. This time I saw the tiredness in his eyes, like a light that was dimmed. I imagined he could have received news of his own brother's death and his reaction would be no different. "Will you write your parents, Son?" "Yes, Sir, I will," I managed to say. The words pushed out of my gut and past the pain to my lips.