Chapter Nine
~ March, 1862.
Tom had left the small village southwest of his home and was heading out back to his home, over the fields and across the plains he rode on the mission to reach home once again.
Back in Wilson’s Creek, Evan Harris was pacing inside his saloon headquarters thinking of an idea of getting Mr. Smith out of the Carlisle Household and into the town. Evan left the saloon and stood outside in the muddy roads now that the winter snow had, for the most part, melted. Peter Savage walked beside him talking into his ear, Evan continuing to walk down the streets with the townsfolk around him putting the finishing touches on their homes and businesses that had been ruined during the Battle of Wilson’s Creek in the winter.
Mr. Page walked up to him, “I have all the wood you asked for Mr. Harris,” he told him.
“Very good, Peter, make sure Mr. Page gets his payment,” Evan said to Peter.
“Of course,” said Peter reaching into his pocket and flipping Mr. Page a single golden coin.
“I thought…” Mr. Page began.
“Well we changed our minds. Now you get to know that you have my gratitude and respect rather than some gold,” smiled Evan Harris as Mr. Page walked back to his farmhouse on the outskirts of the town.
Evan Harris sighed, “You Peter, I’m on the verge of just sending every last man over to finish the job.”
“With all due respect Evan,” Peter began, “Why should we worry about him?”
“I reckon you don’t understand my goal here, it is to have complete and utter authority in this town, and then we can proceed in declaring succession from Kentucky with the neighboring counties that we’ve discussed with the other mayors and politicians back in winter. If a single family, let alone a man who dares to fight me every step of the way; well, we need to get rid of him or there may be other problems that come up in the near future, leave it at that,” Evan replied.
Peter looked down at the mud on his boots, “Well, I think you just don’t like him.”
Evan glanced over at Peter, “That may have to do with it a little bit I reckon,” Evan said.
As nightfall approached the town, the Carlisle’s and Smith’s were hard at work at the Smith household repairing the damages sustained during the winter; but as night approached they proceeded in returning to the Carlisle home to spend the night, knowing quite well that the night wasn’t a safe time to be outside in the open plains with Evan’s men all over the place.
Jeb retired to the room with Leslie Carlisle where the two best friends had held countless hours even days of discussion on the war and the whereabouts of both his brothers Tom and Bill. As the moon took full control of the sky, Jeb turned over to Leslie.
“Do you ever get those feelings that something bad is going to happen to someone you know or love?” Jeb asked.
“Sometimes, why do you ask?” Leslie replied.
“I don’t know I reckon; I just have that feeling right now in my stomach. For some odd reason, I feel like it’s Tom or Bill,” Jeb answered.
“Are you crazy?” Leslie asked him after hearing Jeb’s answered. Jeb got out of the makeshift bed and walked over to the window. “What the hell are you doing?” Leslie asked him.
“I’m going out, I’m going to go off to town,” Jeb answered.
“Are you crazy? Jeb listen to me, your pa said not to go off to town and if you go I’m going to get blamed for it.” Leslie said aloud.
“I’m sorry but I’m going, I just have that feeling.”
“Well what if you’re wrong,” Leslie said grabbing Jeb by the shoulder as he neared climbing out of the window, “what if you get hurt out there?”
Jeb shrugged Leslie off of his shoulder, he then proceeded to climb through the window and step on the top of the roof looking back at Leslie, “So are you going to come or get my father?”
“Make room,” Leslie said as the two climbed onto the roof and then proceeded to climb down the side of the house to the ground. “Listen, it will take hours to walk to town, and if we come back in time it will be sunrise…”
“Then I reckon we should run shouldn’t we?” Jeb said with sarcasm and a smile. The two began to head off to town in the dead of night, under the light of the moon.
Back at Wilson’s Creek, a lone rider strode into town and looked down the road to see several men with lanterns walking the street. Peter Savage walked up to the rider and looked at the man, “Don’t you know this place has been closed off?” he asked the rider. The rider looked down at Peter, Peter was in some state of shock, “I’m sorry sir, just wait here for a moment,” he told the rider and ran off to Evan.
“Evan! Evan! Evan!” he yelled, after getting his attention he whispered something into his ear. Evan smiled and walked outside with his lantern.
“Thomas Smith, William Smith’s son is that you?” Evan called out.
“Yes, who are you?”
“I’m Evan Harris, the new mayor of the town. Look, your father’s home was somewhat ruined when the Rebs came into town, I wouldn’t suggest heading over there right away. Look, go into the motel and stay overnight, come morning I’ll send a courier to your father to come down and pick ya up,” Evan Harris called out.
“Alright,” Tom said. “Are they okay?”
“Not a knick on a single one of them so far,” Evan replied. He turned to Peter, “Take him up to the top floor in the motel and write down the room number. Come to me, and later tonight we’ll take him prisoner and send a man over to the Carlisle household. We’ll tell Smitty that we have his son and will hang him at noon on the counts of treason and desertion. That will get the old man out of the ridge and down here to try and get his son back; we can kill him then kill his son, don’t fail me.”
“I never have,” replied Peter.
“And I don’t expect you will,” Evan added. “Just hang on son,” Evan called out to Tom who had dismounted his horse.
Peter pulled up beside him, “I’ll take care of your horse in a second, come with me to the motel,” Peter said, Tom quick to follow