AHC: 3-way ACW

A civil war between free states and slave states had been in the cards pretty much from the adoption of the constitution. How might a third side, hostile to both other sides, come to be?

PoD must be after 1789, and the third side must come from within the USA's borders.
 
At a pinch you might get the West to declare "a pox on both your houses" but they'd be more independent-neutral than active warring
 
At a pinch you might get the West to declare "a pox on both your houses" but they'd be more independent-neutral than active warring

This is the best way without changing alot; IOTL there was talk in Oregon of seceding as a separate country for a variety of reasons (including, among other things, the notable Southern-descended population in the State not liking the North for the war).
 
Mormon want of sorts where the Mormons somehow get the Jewish population with them as well as the native Americans and develop a massive version of Deseret in peace? Perhaps after a much more disastrous Mexican - American war which gives them time to rest and build up
 
This is the best way without changing alot; IOTL there was talk in Oregon of seceding as a separate country for a variety of reasons (including, among other things, the notable Southern-descended population in the State not liking the North for the war).

Georgia's Governor Brown also threatened secession 1-2 times during the Civil War becasue President Dais was taking so many of his state's men for other theaters instead of letting him defend Georgia with them, from what I read. Davis said he'd fight to keep Georgia in the CSA. So, is there a way for him to be pushed over the edge and leafve the CSA during the war?
 
What about Tecumseh managing to reunite everything? I actually wrote a piece about that last year for a game company, here it is (sorry for the length). Also, it's a bit on the supernatural side

Columns of refugees were still arriving every day at the camp. Desperate, sick and wounded all they wanted was to find a place to raise the tents between the women cooking cornbread and blushing hides near the Wabash which flowed slowly along the south edge south of the camp.
Between the hills, the mud had splattered over everything, covering all the tents in a brownish color. Around the fires, men were drinking, trying to forget the light rain which exacerbated the sweet smell of smoke and of the rotten flesh of the wounded the medicine men were trying to heal as best as they could. They knew how to heal when a brave was cut by an axe or when a hunter was impaled by an ox. They knew how to cure when a papoose was sick or when a woman was bleeding after giving birth. They didn’t know how to heal the cruel bullets of the white men, not so many at once. They had endured when the Great Plagues had taken so many of them a thousand moon ago, when the white men had brought it, brought the curse on their land, killing their game, taking them away from their hunting fields. And later when they had given them the blankets which had brought more diseases and plagues.
Something was brewing in the heart of the land, words and curses. Anger boiled deep in the heart of the braves and deeper under the grass and stones of the earth. Every moon their number dwindled, every moon they grew weaker and it didn't seem to stop anytime soon. More white men were coming, endless stream for a faraway land, a land of steam and blood, of slaves and war.
The chieftains of the tribes were gathering. The Shawnee wearing their distinctive scarves arrived first, taking the best place between the woods and the river where water flowed in abundance and birds were easy to catch. When the Sioux arrived, they helped them build a long house for the Prophet to come. The Cheyenne came singing war song, songs about killing the white and parading their flayed bodies. The Apache came from the dry Mesas of Texas, bringing the peyotl and the guns. There were Lakotas and Dakotas, Creek and Crows, and all the tribes of the lands of winter. The seminoles had been the last to come, sporting wounds, deep biting marks and remains of the chains some had worn as slaves, their black skins showing them as they were among their brothers. From the Everglades they brought tales of beasts, dogs almost as tall as a man guarding some place hidden deep in the woods and tales of men older than the trees in shiny armors.
With each new tribe, they expanded the long houses and took more space along the river, bringing more wounded as they had been hunted down by the white men and the bad spirits awakening in the southern deserts and the northern forests.

They squabbled for days, the Sioux arguing the Shawnee had taken the best place, the Apache asking for more help and furs for their papooses and the Shawnee blaming the Apache for their guns and the Sioux for the alcohol they brought.
And when they all arrived the drum started. Night and day they didn’t stop, an endless beating which could be heard miles around. After two moons he finally arrived.
He had been seen walking the plain days before, coming from nowhere. Riders came around him but he always refused to ride. He kept walking, withered figure supported by a stick as twisted as his face. Day after day they gathered around him, following his every step when they could, stopping only to sleep and catching up when the morning came as he never stopped. When the harsh wind blew over the grass he walked, when the rain soaked his feathers he walked.
When he passed the river, all the people welcomed him, chanting and dancing as he went. The fires seemed to burn warmer and the light came back in the eyes of the drunks. That night, the stars were shining bright as the clouds dissipated. From every tent they had came and they were listening to this man who looked like a skeleton barely draped in skin but whose eyes carried a flame so powerful almost no one could hold his gaze.
And he spoke. He spoke of the evil of the white man, of their treachery, of the secret pacts they had signed beyond the great sea in the East. He spoke of the war they had waged on their people and the game they had killed.

“The white man came across the sea, he brought us pain and misery and every more come to our lands, ignorant of our custom and lives, pushing us away, away from our ancestral territories. He killed our tribes, he killed our creed, taking our game for his own need.
Fools tried to help them but I know, oh I know there is nothing to be done.
The white man brought his cross and his gods, a mother, a child and a father and makes us bow to them. They take our children and teach them their way. Fools tried to learn about this dead man but I know, oh I know there is nothing to learn.
The white man brought rifles and canons and some of us have tried using them but I know, oh I know this is not the way.
For, as long as we are like the white man, the white man will dominate us. For I know, oh I know there is another way.
Human beings, Shawnee, Apache, have you forgotten? Have you forgotten when the land was ours and the game plenty? When our great tribes covered the horizon? Look at what we have became, is it the heart of the land here or just the remnants of it, shadows soon to be forgotten?
Have we turned on our gods or have they turned on us? Where was Coyote when they unleashed the hounds on the papoose? Where was Summer when our wives died hungry?
I know, oh I know there is another way.
Those of you drunkards and bearers of the white man gifts, throw everything the white man gave you or rid us of yourself for there is nothing good in it.
I have looked into the fire, I have traveled the land and I have seen how weak the white man is, how afraid he is of the land. But we have lived there for thousands and thousands of moons, nobody takes our land and goes unpunished!
I have looked in the fire and I have seen a great blaze coming in the sky. I have seen a great rumble in the ground as Mishe Moneto rises again. We will call forth the Great Spirit and the Hurricane to help us kill the white man. We will go back to the old ways, when the land was ours, to kill the white man. We will follow the white man and burn his farm and kill his cattle. We will burn the white man and scatter the ashes so that he may never get rest.
When time has passed and the white man has returned to his country east of the great sea, the grass will grow again and the game will come back, and then, and only then, we will rejoice for before that there will be no rest until the white man still stands on our shores. So have I spoken. I have opened the door for you and doing so cost me my eye. Will you dare look inside or will you stay cowards?
Long ago, I was weak because of the white man. Then I saw the truth in the fire but I did not understand all of it. I saw a great apocalypse for the white man, a wave that will wipe him out just as he tried to do to us many times. But now I understand all the truth. It is not for us to wait for the wave, we shall be the wave!”
His voice had been like a thunder on the camp as they all listened in a stupor. Some had heard him before, some had never seen him but none spoke for several minutes. Dogs began to howl and chicken cackled around as the roosters let out piercing shrieks.
A whisper grew from the air, pale shudder in the damp camp as if a great herd was passing on the horizon. The first to see them were the men too drunk to move or too drunk to care who thought they were having bad visions because of the badly prepared fire water they had been sold in exchange for their dignity but then, the crowd followed them in their surprise. Shapes and silhouettes were appearing among them, walking calmly toward Tenskwatawa, passing him and walking toward the hills above where they started to assemble. Scores of warriors long gone, of squaw dead months and years before, of papoose barely old enough to walk carried by the spirit of the departed. The rumble intensified around the camp but no tent fell even though a great dust storm was all around it, leaving them untouched as it went away.
Women fainted and men gasped as they recognized loved ones who passed over to the spirit world several moons ago.
And Tenskwatawa spoke to them in the language of the dead, in the language of the gods, praying the Wolf and Moneto for their safety.
Vague shapes were passing through them, more faded as they grew older.
As the last of the ghastly shape took its place on the hill, the shudder ceased but they all knew it for what it was. The hunting grounds would be purified and all the spirits of the land were walking beside them.

The Ghost Dance had just begun.

On a hill above, a warrior was looking at the camp. He saw his brother speech and the silence fall. He saw the spirits walk and assemble. He had been too late to hear everything but he could see what had happened.
A flapping behind him.
“It has begun, you know there is no turning back now.”
The warrior turned to face his interlocutor.
“Why do you keep tormenting me? Haven’t you had enough?”
“Oh come on my dear Tecumseh, haven’t I always been of good advice? I was the one who told you to come here after all, I helped you so many times.”
“Got me captured a couple times too.” Replied Tecumseh harshly.”
“Cannot deny that, but you’ll admit you’re still alive aren’t you?”
Tecumseh half groaned, half mumbled a few words and went back to contemplating the camp.
“What do you want this time?” he asked.
“I came to warn you, time has come for great suffering and you will be a part of it. It is a battle for the survival of the Shawnee and all the human beings. Many will die and the white man may prevail in the end, you have to know that. It will take great sacrifice.
“I already lost so much, I can’t stop now.“
“Won’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Wings flapped. As Tecumseh turned, he saw no one and nothing, except a big white crow flying away.
 
Tecumseh was doomed from the start because he didnt have enough people to actually resist for more than a couple years at most. The population gap between the natives and the colonists was growing everyday and not in the natives favor.
 
Kentucky's neutrality becomes de facto independance from both states. A pox on both your houses. With Kentucky zealously guarding its borders and firing on trespassers.

I suspect independance won't any longer than neutrality but it would be interesting to have Kentuckians fire on both Polk and Nelson.
 
Kentucky

Kentucky's neutrality becomes de facto independance from both states. A pox on both your houses. With Kentucky zealously guarding its borders and firing on trespassers.

I suspect independence won't any longer than neutrality but it would be interesting to have Kentuckians fire on both Polk and Nelson.

If that's the case, Kentucky might stay independent for a little while if succession sticks. If it doesn't stick, it gets collected either before or after the CSA.
 
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