Saints and Angels

@ Enewald: "Fear can hold you prisoner. Hope can set you free." Hope is the only thing right now that can save poor Tom...

@ Hardraade: Tom and Mallott have a couple tricks up their sleeves. But one's is far better than the other, only time will tell who's is better. As for Bill, I didn't want to kill him off either at that moment. I'd had planned to have Bill die at Clinch in the original outline but couldn't. Thought this would add more tension.

@ BritishImperial: Death is part of life, I felt some emotional attachment to Bill when I was ready to kill him. I mean, I've been working with him for the past 6 months when working on this AAR.

@ Erie_Patriot: Something like this had to happen my friend. But Mallott has a few tricks he'll be bestowing upon Tom...

Chapter Six

Tom was calmed by George Mallott, who continued to speak to him to try and reach some sort of an agreement. The Marshal and his two deputies had also come out to back Mallott, but were in no rush to apprehend Tom for the murders of the four men of the Mallott Gang. Tom simply nodded his head at every word and sentence that Mallott spat out at him. From behind, the two other men of Mallott Gang appeared; Hobbs and Webb, riding in after they heard the gunshots from the outskirts of the town. Mallott was rather unaware until they made their way directly behind him, looking at their dead comrades.

“What happened here?” asked Webb to Mallott.

“Nothing,” Mallott replied to his associate.

His two men looked around to see that Mallott was talking to this upstart little man (Tom) who was immediately blamed for all the tragedy that has befallen the town. Some of the townsfolk mustered up enough courage to head out of their shops and homes to see what was going on outside, stunned to see a single man standing up to Mallott.

“Well,” said Mallott, “do we have a deal?”

“Sure,” Tom said without much enthusiasm.

“Oh yeah, Hobbs, Webb; I want you to go round back and see to the man’s brother. You’ll know who he is. I want to bring him to the funeral home and have Mister Nathaniel do what he does to, well you know. It is Tom right? Well, we’ll have a proper burial in two days for your brother. I’m terribly sorry for all this, I hope you do realize this,” smiled Mallott as he finished his words and his other men went off to the back of the town to retrieve Bill’s body and take him to the funeral home with much haste.

Mallott dismounted from his horse and extended his hand to Tom. Tom bluntly looked at Mallott’s hand and squinted his eyes. He smiled and took his hand in a good standing but there was something else going around in his head.

“There,” Mallott said, “I hope we can get onto a better foot after what has just happened a few moments ago. Well, do you want a drink at the saloon?”

“I would like that,” Tom acknowledged.

“Than it is, I shall pay for all the drinks you want,” laughed Mallott with a devilish smile and pat on the back as the two men walked up the roads talking about hundreds of other topics. Mallott turned and gave a wink to Webb who was riding with Hobbs and Bill’s body to the funeral home; Webb nodded in acknowledgment of his boss’s gesture. “Well Tom, I think you won’t be disappointed with the drinks this town has to offer, of course; I’m the main reason why this town has so many good drinks nowadays. Before the war, this place just sold your usual stuff, nothing fancy or anything; but we go out on a few raids and get the good stuff from the caravans and boom! Finest liquor and whisky south of the Mason Dixon Line,” he finished as he and Tom took a seat at the front of the saloon.

The waiter came over cleaning a cup in his right hand, “What shall it be Mr. Mallott?” he asked him, though he also wanted to ask about the noise that went on outside, but he knew better than ask the belligerent Mallott about his business.

“Hard whiskey, pre-war,” Mallott said. “Is that alright with you Tom?” he turned and asked him. Tom nodded and Mallott smiled and pulled out a cigar and handed it to Tom. “Smoke?” he asked Tom with a friendly gesture.

“No thanks, I’ve had enough smoke for one day,” Tom answered.

Mallott smiled, and the drinks were placed on the table. Mallott prepared a toast for Tom and the two began to drink but Mallott was quick to spill his whiskey on the floor while Tom drank the entire glass in under ten seconds. Tom looked at Mallott and asked for another, Mallott quickly complied with Tom’s order. But after his second drink, Tom whipped the whiskey from his lips and got up to head out of the bar to look at his brother in the funeral home. Mallott quickly urged him to stay so the men could ‘get to know’ each other better and so Mallott could explain what had just happened.

From out of the side window, Doc Johnson’s building was just about finished as it had finally collapsed and the fire was dying down as the night took full control of the skies and the moon was out shining brightly overhead. Tom took a deep breath and sat back down. From behind, Webb and Hobbs appeared and were quietly waiting on the decks to the saloon waiting for something as they occasionally peeked inside to get a glance at what was going on.

Mallott continued to buy drink after drink for the young Tom, who after a few more got drunk and wasn’t sure of what was going on anymore. Mallott didn’t stop there, he continued to buy drink after drink, from whiskey to scotch; he ordered up just about everything for Tom to drink. After a while, the saloon band started up “The Bonnie Blue Flag,” that is when Webb and Hobbs entered the saloon, Webb holding the butt of his pistol in his hand and whacked Tom over the head.

Mallott looked down at Tom who was unconscious from all the drinks and the forceful whack to the head. George Mallott pulled out another cigar and lit it promptly, “I think this the end of a beautiful friendship,” he said. “Okay, take him out back, I want you guys to dump out in the country, a place where he’s gonna die do you all understand. See, wait, even better. Dump him in the river and watch him sail away.”

“What about his brother?” asked Hobbs.

“Well, he’s already dead. Just take him with you and dump him somewhere in the fields,” Mallott answered to his other member.

So with that, the two men picked Tom up and brought him outside in the dead waste and middle of night where churchyards yawn. Hobbs was quick to bring the horses over and tied a rope to one of them.

“Here,” he said to Webb, “we’ll just tie him to the horse’s foot and drag him out there. Just to be safe so he won’t be able to get up if he wakes.”

“You think my hit wasn’t good enough or something?” jokingly responded Webb as he tied Tom up to the horse and with that, they were off into the night. They trotted out for some distance when Webb looked at his watch, it was well past midnight. He could hear the roar of the nearby river and they moved into the woods. Hobbs was behind with Bill tied up to his horse as well, “Leave the dead one in the trench below,” Webb said to Hobbs. “I’ll take this one to the river.”

Hobbs quickly untied Bill and dumped him twenty feet over the edge into the trench. Webb moved his horse downhill and stopped at the river edge and untied Tom. He looked at the young boy and said, “So long, I reckon. Sweet dreams.” With that, he let Tom off into the river and saw him float down the river to an uncertain future. The two men remounted and went back to town having completed their jobs.

Tom was rushing down river, still unconscious and at the moment, face-down in the river. The incoming rapids turned him over and the water fall nearby was his next destination. Over the roars of the falls, the thirty foot drop took Tom by the side and dumped him over as he made a thunderous noise as he fell over, his body sinking deep into the water and snagging onto a sharp log that was buried deep beneath the river, his shin splitting open after hitting it and not waking from the ordeal either.

@ Enewald: Thanks, but I'm a bit confused. Do you think it is the end of the AAR or the end of the update. Surely I don't intend it to end right here, though I've had to ponder the thought since you and BritishImperial think it was so stunning and good!

@ Erie_Patriot: Thanks, I share your feelings toward Mallott.

@ BritishImperial: Thanks and Thanks! Well, Tom got positioned in a corner with Mallott and really couldn't do much but try and stall for time which backfired on him. I hope I didn't mislead you by thinking that this was the end of the AAR, but this was just another update, I like to leave some suspense. I was honestly conflicted in ending this AAR since you and Enewald seemed to 'love the ending' so much!

@ Hardraade: Well, your hope is about to be answered shortly. If I can say one thing about Tom: He survived his first battle in Wilson Creek, his fight with Tom, The Battle of Clinch Mountain, the grave... Tom is a cat with nine lives.

Chapter Six

A serene fog set over the Clinch River, with a certain young lad still in her mouth. The autumn months were quickly fading into the winter months only week away, while there was so much still to be resolved. The fog closed in on the base of the river, quickly hovering over the water and preventing anyone from even seeing a few feet in front of them. Meanwhile, twig branches could be heard breaking and leaves were cracking, a few shadows seemed to pierce the intense fog over the river, the men were seemingly unarmed, that is, until the last appeared with a rifle-shaped object; or it seemed that way in the shadows.

A bird, a tall and beautiful crow let out a cry overhead and took off from its position from the tree. It swooped down and landed on a nearby tree-branch beside to the shadowy characters stumbling through the woods and river. Muttering voices could be heard talking to one another through the trees and fog, talking about something, but unbeknownst to anyone but those few men that were walking so near to the shore of the river. As the men continued walking, the leader made a lucky footstep, his boot struck an odd and soft object, and he immediately thought it was some sort of mud or quick sand.



“Help me!” cried the man; “I think I’m in quick sand!” yelled the startled person.

“It’s nothing,” said the man behind him. “What was it? A body of an animal?” he jokingly laughed.

“Let’s see,” said the other, the four men reached down to try and figure out what they’d stepped on.

In the long distance back in the small town, Webb and Hobbs rode in; giving one last look back to the woods and river where they had dumped Tom and Bill over to their apparent demise; well, Tom’s at least.

Back in the woods, the lead man screamed out in horror, “My God! It’s Tom!” shouted Justin as he stumbled back in horror.

“What?” said Paul, “Tom!? I thought he was captured or dead!?”

Shane and the Union sergeant that was accompanying them didn’t know much of what was going on, as the first three all knew each other and were good friends with both Tom and Bill, and knew they had left Tom during the climax of the Battle of Clinch Mountain when the Confederates stormed the ‘Butcher’s Nest.’

“Help him to his feet,” said Paul as he and Just attempted to lift him up. Shane quickly came over and helped the first two bring him to his feet and eventually placed him by a rock beside the shoreline.

“He’s dead,” said Justin with pity and sadness inside his voice.

The sergeant walked over and scouted out the area, making sure it was safe. He had made his way over to the steep ravine where Hobbs had tossed Bill. The sergeant stumbled in out of curiosity; it was here that he saw another body since the fog wasn’t as intense in the hidden ravine. He called out to the others that there was another man in the ravine. Shane stumbled over, holding his hat in place as he splashed in the shoreline to reach the sergeant. He too was startled at the sight that lay before him.

He turned back and shouted, “Paul! Justin! I think this is Bill over here!”

“What?” shouted Paul in response to Shane.

They eventually pulled Bill out of the tangled mess in the ravine. The sergeant was quick to call him dead, mainly because of the drop. He’d said that he most likely stumbled down twenty or so feet to his death. They placed Bill beside his brother, a quick look by the former friends confirmed that it was indeed Bill, and they knew that Bill was dead. All three began to tear up a bit, that is when the sergeant walked over to them. He tried to comfort them as he came to the conclusion that all them came from the same town and were friends who had enlisted in the army to fight for glory.

The sergeant reached down to touch Tom’s pulse, it was slightly moving. “I think he’s alive!” he shouted in shock and tossed his rifle into the water in surprise. He quickly placed his ear by his mouth and noise to get any sign of breathing; if any it was minor. The others were quick to judge that the sergeant was only seeing or feeling things, but it wasn’t that long after that they jumped back in shock as Tom began to cough.

Tom slowly began to open his eyes. From a foggy world with some weird faces hovering over him to pitch black, back to the fog and the faces. Tom eventually moaned in pain and reached for his shin, still bleeding and having a large splint of wood jabbed deep inside. He took a deep breath and faded back.

“Tom! Tom! Tom!” shouted Justin, slapping Tom on the face to try and wake him.

“I think I know what his problem is,” Shane said as he lifted his leg up so they could see the wood splint sticking out of his shin, his whole leg stained red with blood.

Hours passed, the friends had decided to make camp by the river and rock where they had placed Tom. Tom was off to the side as a small campfire was brewing in the middle of the woods. Paul was attempting to cook some stale rations they still had with them as they had gotten lost from their unit during the haste of the retreat some weeks back during the battle.

Justin got up and saw Tom starting to move from his position on the rock. Tom’s eyes opened wide and he was unsure but quick to realize the face in front of him. He looked at Justin and quietly asked, “Justin? Is that you?”

Tom’s voice immediately caused the others to get up from the fire and run over to their friend. They formed a circle around him and patted him on the back and said a few words to him, all of this was oblivious to Tom. Tom seemed to faint back but caught himself and sat up straight again.

“Where the hell I’m I?” he asked his familiar faces.

“Somewhere by Clinch,” answered Justin.

“What are you guys doing here?” he asked.

“We got, I reckon, well; I reckon we got lost in all the confusion back when the Rebs attacked us,” Shane spat out.

Tom was unsure of how long he had been here, he said he remembered something about a town, a man named Mallott, and then he went black. He also said something about being in the river and in a heap of pain, and then he blacked out again. That’s when he said that you guys showed up out of nowhere. Tom was quick to look around and didn’t see anyone by his side.

“Tom,” said Paul, “there’s no easy way of saying this. Well, I mean, I don’t. Bill, well. Bill is dead. We buried him over there,” he finished pointing to a premature grave and marker that read: Bill Smith, 1861 on it.

Tom’s eyes got tense; they seemed to turn red in a fury. His friends tried to calm him down; there was no way of reasoning with him. Tom clutched the rock and got up, stumbling forward but caught himself in the process as his friends were unsure of what to do next. Tom looked at them, “I have to fix a few things.”

@ Auray: Tom is a cat with nine lives. As for Mallott, he won't be quoted Louis XIV, but another person, well kind of; it's more of a reference. Maybe you'll know that one too.

@ Enewald: That's understandable. But, since you loved it so much I don't know if the real ending will be the same. (9000 posts, I might have to live a few hundred years to get that far!)

@ Hardraade: Tom couldn't have it any other way. And Mallott will have a problem on his hand very shortly.

Chapter Six

Tom awoke the next morning to see that his friends were in a hard position; they were determined to make it back to their units rather than desert and head back home. They were also still very stunned to see that Tom was somehow alive especially after the whole ordeal that happened to him. He looked at his leg and saw his leg stitched up by part of the sergeant’s uniform which he used to patch up his leg, though it was distinctly noticeable and not of professional quality, it could at least stop random bleeding and the risk of future infection.

Tom made his way to Justin, who was standing and leaning on one of the rocks. “So I guess this is it,” said Tom to Justin.

“I suppose it is, I hope to see you again at home, when this war is over. When this country is brought back together.”

“I have the greatest faith that it will, when though, I don’t know.”

“I just want it to end. I want to get home, back with my ma and pa, my brothers. Stay out late at night I reckon, hanging out with all of you as if none of this had ever happened.”

“Certainly God has his ways in things like this,” Tom responded.

Paul walked up to Tom and from behind asked, “So I take it you won’t be coming with us?”

“Sorry, I have a few things to do before I catch up with you guys, saying that if everything falls into a good alignment.”

Shane came up next, he patted Tom on the shoulder and gave him his pistol that he had taken from a Union officer from the Battle of Clinch Mountain some weeks back. “Here, I guess you’re going to need this more than I do, it only has three shots left but it is better in your hands than mine.”

“Thanks guys,” Tom said as he walked off with a little limp in his step. The sergeant came up to him and wished him luck and went off with Paul, Justin, and Shane. They went off in the opposite direction, up the hill as Tom sat next to Bill’s makeshift grave. He said a few words and had a tear in his eye and moved off towards the town. He made his way up the hill and started the march towards the town.

Hours passed, the night sky came rolling in at a very quick pace; storm clouds were brewing and lightning was beginning to strike off in the distance. Tom walked steadily up another ridge and over the end of this one was the sign of civilization, the same town he had wrongly been cheated and nearly killed in, the same place where he had sworn to avenge his brother’s death. He looked at the saloon and began to walk down towards it direction.

From inside, Mallott was charming up the band to play the “Bonnie Blue Flag,” which the band immediately began to start. The whole of the saloon began singing to it, drunk and out of tone.

“We are a band of brothers and native to the soil, fighting for our liberty with treasure, blood and toil. And when our rights were threatened, the cry rose near and far. Hurrah for the Bonnie Blue Flag that bears a single star! Hurrah! Hurrah! For Southern rights hurrah! Hurrah for the Bonnie Blue Flag that bears a single star!”

Tom entered the saloon, to which the band stopped playing and looked straight at him, then they tuned up again and picked up where they left off, with most of the saloon still with them. Mallott turned around to see the familiar but beaten face of Tom staring right at him. Hobbs and Webb stepped in front of Mallott as Tom reached for his pistol. As Tom reached his for his pistol, Mallott was casually smoking a cigar and shot the pistol right out of Tom’s belt. The saloon went quiet as he tossed the match onto the floor. Tom stood looking at the shattered remains of his pistol and looked straight back at Mallott.

“Thought you could come back and kill me I reckon,” Mallott said to Tom as he took his cigar out of his mouth. “I thought you died?” he asked not to Webb and Hobbs, but directed it towards Tom.

“I saw him die,” said Hobbs, with his long and distinct moustache and beard.

“I guess we should put a bullet in his heart,” Webb said. “I’ll handle this boss, just sit back.” Webb walked over to Tom and had his pistol drawn and a gold dollar in his hand. He approached Tom, placing the pistol barrel at Tom’s chest. The shorter man looked up at Tom and called him down, “Hey listen, we can do this the hard way, or the right way. We’re sorry for the loss of you brother but that don’t mean we should go out lookin’ for some vendetta and revenge. Here, I’ll make you a deal, I drag you back out to the river, and when you float down to the next town you could use this money to buy yourself a drink.”

“You’re a funny man Webb,” Tom said, “that’s why I’m gonna kill you last.”

“Kill me?! Are you mad? Just leave,” he said as he placed the gold dollar in his shirt. “I see we’re gonna have to this the hard way I reckon.”

“Webb, come here,” said Mallott from his side of the saloon. “Look, Tom,” began Mallott, “I realize we got off on the wrong leg but we can settle this the gentlemen way, just like they do out in the old west. You said something about the ‘California Sailor’ before I wrongly tried to kill you with my hired hands here. Well, I remember you said you would love to kill me in a duel, what about now.”

The saloon went quiet at that moment and looked at both Tom and Mallott. They were all into the deep conversation that was going on. Webb looked at Hobbs then looked at Mallott in a face expression like ‘are you mad.’ Hobbs took the opportunity and smiled because he knew just how deadly Mallott is with a pistol as Webb is the rather new guy in the gang. Hobbs exploded in laughter and smiled as he looked at Mallott who was looking at him with a smirk on his face. The men got up and walked towards Tom and brought him outside, the clouds were getting frisky overhead but no rain was falling.

The saloon was slow to follow Mallott with the fear that had been installed into them by his terrible ways. Not even the Marshal had enough courage to follow him outside even though he was payroll to do so in times like these.

Mallott placed Tom right beside the a horse and started to walk backwards. “Well, I guess you’ll have a quick listen in gun fighting,” he said. “Well, would you look at that, you’re right in front of my pistol target, ain’t that amazing?” He snapped his fingers and Webb walked over to Tom with an old pistol in his hand and placed in Tom’s belt and smiled at him, and gave him a tap on the cheeks.

“Don’t forget to buy a drink in hell,” he said as he walked back.

“Well, I gave you three bullets so you’re not tempted to blast your way out of town,” said Mallott as he threw his cigar into the dirt. “Mister Webb and Hobbs over here will ensure that this is a fair contest, no tricky stuff you hear. I would hate to kill you even when you were trying to gain an advantage. Well, I think some men are born in the wrong century. I think I was born with the wrong family.”

“I know one thing about you Mallott, you ain’t ever seen the California sailor, nor been taught by him.”

“We’ll see,” laughed Mallott.

The two were staring each other down, Mallott’s hands were hovering over his pistol, Tom was calmly waiting for him to make his move, looking at Mallott and his two associates; Webb and Hobbs. He looked back at Mallott and smiled at him, Mallott snared at him and reached for his pistol.

The street turned dark, the people in the saloon were looking out at the gunfight. The street was lit up for under a second and was quiet once more.

In a flash, Mallott had pulled out his pistol to the ring of three gunshots, the first striking Hobbs in the head and killing him instantly, the second striking Mallott in the chest and the last hitting Webb, causing him to fly back several feet with his pistol still in his holster. Tom was still standing and dropped his pistol to the ground and walked over. Mallott was breathing heavily on the ground, in shock of what happened. Tom looked down at Mallott as the lightning overhead became louder and was closing in.

“Like I said,” Tom, “Some men are born great, others aren’t so fortunate.” Tom walked away from Mallott who was attempting to pick up his pistol once again but quickly gave out and died on the road.

Tom was walking towards Webb, who wasn’t killed but was dragging himself away from the scene as Tom was closing in. Tom paused to pick up Webb’s pistol and inched closer only to see him stop and turn ‘round and place his arms in the air.

“You said you’d kill me last,” he pleaded.

“Look around you, they’re already dead,” said Tom as he flipped the golden dollar at Webb and placed the barrel of his own pistol at his head and pulled the trigger, Webb screamed but was stunned to still have his head attached to his body. Webb was trembling in fear. “I’ll spare you Webb, I kinda like you. This way God can justify with what happened in this town, and could maybe you could repent on your deeds.”

“Thanks,” Webb said, but Tom then took really took his gun and shot him in the leg, causing him to scream in pain.

“That won’t kill ya,” Tom said, “that’s for trying to kill me in the river,” he said and walked away. He paused once more over Mallott’s dead body. He saw the cigar on the ground still lit, he bent over and placed it back in his mouth.

@ Enewald: West, that's too traditional. Tom will be heading straight into Hell next... literally

@ Hardraade: Let's just say that for Tom, his adventures aren't over yet, and with the memory of his brother still etched in his mind, I wouldn't want to get in his way. BTW, work is always more important than writing a story, even when it is as good as A Flash of the Lightning!

@ Erie_Patriot: Well, the story behind the California Sailor will be told out by the end of this AAR, whenever that is.

Chapter Six

~ Wilson’s Creek, Kentucky.

Jeb was standing out beneath the old willow tree in his backyard. He was staring out into the abyss; nothing was in the sight of his eyes other than the endless and rolling Kentuckian plains that would lead into the Tennessee hills and mountains. He slumped down, opened his book and started to trace a flower that was still living in late October when most of the others were dying or already dead; well, at least the ones that had taken control of his home.

From inside his house, Mr. Smith looked out at his son, the rest of his children were still asleep outside of Dill who was also outside with Nate who was still helping out, and was likely to spend the winter than travel back in the winter months. He opened the door to the chilly October breeze, he was walking out to the man on the wagon heading in his direction and it was Mr. Crooks who was riding out to the Smith residence to deliver some important news from down south. He stopped on the side and said hello to Jeb was wasn’t that aware that Mr. Crooks had come to the home.

Mr. Smith walked up to his friend, “How the hell did you get out of the town?”

“Evan Harris isn’t too hard on the people who live in the town,” answered Mr. Crooks. “I got some important news on the war down south,” he continued.

“Shoot,” said Mr. Smith.

“Well,” said Mr. Crooks, “The Confederates met the Union Army under some General McPherson near Baton Rogue in Louisiana.”

“I thought a General Hancock was in charge of the Union Army in the south?” asked Mr. Smith to Mr. Crooks.

“Well, according to this it is General McPherson, anyways. The Confederates had about 23,000 soldiers and home guard troops that engaged the Union Army that was numbering 40,000 men. It wasn’t as bloody as Clinch, but the justice was just the same.”

“The Union lost again, didn’t they?”

“7,000 or more men were killed, another 9,000 were captured and the Union Army retreated back to New Orleans and are building fortifications. The Confederates lost in all, around 6,000 men. They caught the Union off guard again Will, it looks like the war is going to be longer than we all expect.”


The Battle of Baton Rogue was fought on October 26-27, 1861. The major Confederate victory was only hampered by indecisiveness and the inability to fully capitalize from the victory. With Union troops under Hancock around Mobile, and McPherson in New Orleans, and more important places for both Confederate soldiers and Union soldiers to go, the Southern Seaboard Front will take a backseat after the failed Union push into Red River Country. With the winter months approaching, the war seems to be heading for a much longer conflict than both sides have ever imagined, especially in the eyes of the soldiers fighting it.

Mr. Smith looked up at the sky; a raven was circling over head. It was screeching as it hovered over their heads, he looked back at Mr. Crooks, “Let’s hope your wrong,” he said in response, “and what about the war in Virginia?”

“McClellan sleeps,” answered Mr. Crooks.

Jeb walked over to his father, he said hello to Mr. Crooks and asked him why he was here. He responded with the same news he had told his father. Jeb, however, was a little more optimistic, he had by this time taken a fonder look at the Confederacy over the Union by this time. He constantly talked more about his brother Bill and the Confederacy than Tom and the Union. He shook his head and walked away back towards Nate who was chasing Dill around the open fields in the back.

“Will,” Mr. Crooks said, “be careful. Harris doesn’t like that your son is in the Union Army. He will stop at nothing until the Confederates take this place or win the war.”

“Evan Harris could be dead if I had the courage to do something about it.”

“The old stories of the California Sailor,” smirked Mr. Crooks. “How many times have you told the town that story from when you were in the navy, all the way back in the 1840’s before you retired from service?”

“I think he would get a kick outta it, I reckon,” finished Mr. Smith who shook Mr. Crooks hand and lead him back to his wagon. “I guess some of us still like those old stories now don’t we?” he asked Mr. Crooks, who mounted his wagon to head back to town.

“I’m just saying,” Mr. Crooks said with some worry, “just be smart when Evan Harris comes to talk to you, he will; I know.” With that, Mr. Crooks went back off towards town and left Mr. Smith standing in his fields, looking at his nephew and children in the fields.

~ South of Clinch Mountain, Tennessee.

Tom stumbled passed the body of George Mallott and Webb was in no condition to move any further. He fell to the ground, his leg pain was finally taking over his abilities to walk and stand. The townspeople rushed out after him, the doctor was the first to reach him. They hailed him as a hero but let him have his room to breathe after what he had just done, something everyone else thought was impossible, killing George Mallott and his gang of bandits.

“Are you okay son? Quick, help me bring him inside out of the rain. I’ll go get my medical tools and see what I can do,” said the doctor as the people helped him up and walked him towards the saloon once more. They stepped over Webb who was completely out of it, at this moment he probably would’ve rather been killed.

Tom was brought into the saloon where the doc and the townspeople circled around him; the doctor was doing his best to find out what was wrong with the hero of the town. He removed his bandage around his leg and realized that his leg was infected with something. He immediately asked for most of the people to leave the area so he and the few medical experts and strong hands in the saloon could help him try and do something about the infection.

Tom was lying on the table, unsure of what was going on. He asked Doc Johnson if his leg was getting infected, to which the doctor answered faithfully. It was a pale white and blackening color around the open wounds. The doc reached into his bag and brought out some old remedies, some he knew the natives once used in the colonial days. Tom asked if he was going to need his leg amputated, the doc just smiled and said, “I think this is going to be all you need.”

The doctor placed the odd mixture onto Tom’s leg; it burned and caused him to scream at the top of his lungs, some of the men had to hold him down so he wouldn’t fall off the table. Tom was in excruciating pain and eventually passed out on the table.

“Will he be okay?” questioned one of the men.

“He’ll be just fine I reckon,” answered the doc. By the sounds of their boots, it appeared as if they were walking out of the saloon and leaving Tom alone as the dark clouds and storm overhead started to bring about the making of a large storm.