Chapter Seven
The town was full of gunfire, from her home outside of the town; Mrs. Richardson peered out the window as she was knitting. Across the entire town, smoke was rising high into the air, the thunderous noise of gunfire was taking control of the surrounding area. From his horse, Mr. Smith began to panic, he knew that any sound of gunfire wasn’t good, from atop his horse, still a good distance away from the town he screamed out, “Jeb! Nate!” and pushed forward at a greater speed.
Outside of the town in the nearby fields, Jeb was running hard towards the ridge overlooking the town, behind him was Nate, who was occasionally turning back to fire off a stray shot at the pursuers. Peter Savage was quick to halt, he took careful aim with his pistol, aiming for Nate’s shin, he pulled the trigger spitting out the bullet from his Colt, the bullet landed right into Nate’s shin where Peter had intended it to go. He stumbled for a moment, falling to the ground, Jeb then turned around to see his cousin in peril. Jeb turned to help him.
Running over to his cousin, he helped bring Nate to his feet, Nate taking careful aim and shooting off his last shot from his pistol, striking Tank Savage in the collarbone. Tank stumbled back, placing his arm over his wound, his eyes grew angry at the outcome, and then rushed forward.
“Go, Jeb! Go! Get home,” Nate said in grief.
“No, you’re coming with me,” Jeb replied trying to carry his much larger cousin away from danger. The men chasing after them were now only ten or so yards away, and they weren’t firing anymore.
“Jeb, go!” Nate yelled, shoving him off of him. Jeb stumbled to the ground, and then he looked up to see the men only feet away. One of the men came to grab him; Nate kicked him in the back of the leg causing the man to falter. Jeb, with fear in his eyes got up; he looked back at Nate and made a dash for the ridge. His long hair was flying with the speed he was running with.
One of the men took out his pistol to shoot at the fleeing boy, Peter was quick to lower his arm, “That’s not how we do business, right now,” he said to the man.
Nate was left alone in the field; he was trying to crawl away when Tank pulled him over. “You little bastard,” he said, “think you can just shoot me in the arm and nothing will happen to you.”
“I can see why you’re not married,” Nate answered, “hell, if I was a woman I wouldn’t marry someone who looks like a cow,” he finished with a small smile on his face.
“Why you little…” Tank said as he raised his arm, his pistol as a club and stroke down in a forceful blow against the much younger and weaker Nate.
“I reckon that’s the best you got,” Nate said, spitting out the blood from his mouth.
“Just how in God’s name do you think you are?” Tank asked, swinging at him again, this time much harder. Nate let out a sign of pain and misery. “Not so tough now,” Tank said, as he reached to grab Nate by the neck.
Nate yielded back, he swung with his leg hitting Tank in the same place where his bullet had struck him, and there was a deafening crack with the strike. Tank imploded in pain, and pulled out his other pistol from his holster. “That’s it,” he said, “I’ve had enough.”
Tank wielded both of his pistols and aimed them down upon Nate.
“Go ahead, I’m not afraid to die,” Nate said. “I’m a religious person, so go ahead and kill me now, you’ll just be fulfilling my journey to God quicker,” Nate finished, spitting out more blood from his mouth.
Tank smiled, “As you wish,” he said. Then he pulled the trigger with his first pistol, the shot rang out striking Nate in the chest. As the pistol kicked back, he used his left hand to fire off his second pistol, the bullet striking Nate in the stomach.
Soon after the other men, outside of Peter Savage who just watched placing a cigar in his mouth, started to fire upon the boy. Tank simultaneously fired off shot after shot from his two pistols; the other men were shooting their single pistol into the lad, who was already dead by now. Nate slipped away after the third shot; his head slumped over to his side, his eyes closed. Still, the men continued to shoot at the now dead boy.
There was a constant thunder, shot after shot; smoke filled the air once again. After they had finished, Tank went to reload his pistol, soon afterwards, he began shooting again. From behind, a person yelled at him, “Stop it! Just stop it you bastards!”
The men turned around to see it was Mrs. Richardson, stumbling forward to stop Tank Savage from destroying Nate’s body. She stopped in front of his now deceased body, she looked at Tank in eyes; slapping him across the face. “You should be ashamed of yourselves,” she scolded at them.
“I have no regrets,” Tank said shaking his head, “the bastard broke my shoulder,” Tank replied.
“And that gives you the right to kill him?” she shouted back at him.
“Come on boys, let’s file out,” Peter said calmly, looking back at Nate’s now mutilated body, full of at least twenty holes in his body. “I’ll take care of him,” he said to Mrs. Richardson.
Minutes after, Jeb came running across the road towards him home, he ran straight into his father. “Jeb? Oh my God Jeb? Are you okay? Where’s Nate?”
Jeb had tears in his eyes, “They killed him, they killed him,” Jeb said with tearful eyes, “I know they killed him. I heard the gunshots. He let me live,” Jeb said guiltily.
“It’s okay,” his father said, dismounting from his horse and hugging his son. “Sssh,” he said as Jeb cried in his arms. “It’s okay,” he said to Jeb. In his mind Mr. Smith was thinking to himself, ‘this is it, this is the last straw. One of us isn’t going to live to see the end of this war,’ he thought to himself looking at his son crying in his arms.
The town was full of gunfire, from her home outside of the town; Mrs. Richardson peered out the window as she was knitting. Across the entire town, smoke was rising high into the air, the thunderous noise of gunfire was taking control of the surrounding area. From his horse, Mr. Smith began to panic, he knew that any sound of gunfire wasn’t good, from atop his horse, still a good distance away from the town he screamed out, “Jeb! Nate!” and pushed forward at a greater speed.
Outside of the town in the nearby fields, Jeb was running hard towards the ridge overlooking the town, behind him was Nate, who was occasionally turning back to fire off a stray shot at the pursuers. Peter Savage was quick to halt, he took careful aim with his pistol, aiming for Nate’s shin, he pulled the trigger spitting out the bullet from his Colt, the bullet landed right into Nate’s shin where Peter had intended it to go. He stumbled for a moment, falling to the ground, Jeb then turned around to see his cousin in peril. Jeb turned to help him.
Running over to his cousin, he helped bring Nate to his feet, Nate taking careful aim and shooting off his last shot from his pistol, striking Tank Savage in the collarbone. Tank stumbled back, placing his arm over his wound, his eyes grew angry at the outcome, and then rushed forward.
“Go, Jeb! Go! Get home,” Nate said in grief.
“No, you’re coming with me,” Jeb replied trying to carry his much larger cousin away from danger. The men chasing after them were now only ten or so yards away, and they weren’t firing anymore.
“Jeb, go!” Nate yelled, shoving him off of him. Jeb stumbled to the ground, and then he looked up to see the men only feet away. One of the men came to grab him; Nate kicked him in the back of the leg causing the man to falter. Jeb, with fear in his eyes got up; he looked back at Nate and made a dash for the ridge. His long hair was flying with the speed he was running with.
One of the men took out his pistol to shoot at the fleeing boy, Peter was quick to lower his arm, “That’s not how we do business, right now,” he said to the man.
Nate was left alone in the field; he was trying to crawl away when Tank pulled him over. “You little bastard,” he said, “think you can just shoot me in the arm and nothing will happen to you.”
“I can see why you’re not married,” Nate answered, “hell, if I was a woman I wouldn’t marry someone who looks like a cow,” he finished with a small smile on his face.
“Why you little…” Tank said as he raised his arm, his pistol as a club and stroke down in a forceful blow against the much younger and weaker Nate.
“I reckon that’s the best you got,” Nate said, spitting out the blood from his mouth.
“Just how in God’s name do you think you are?” Tank asked, swinging at him again, this time much harder. Nate let out a sign of pain and misery. “Not so tough now,” Tank said, as he reached to grab Nate by the neck.
Nate yielded back, he swung with his leg hitting Tank in the same place where his bullet had struck him, and there was a deafening crack with the strike. Tank imploded in pain, and pulled out his other pistol from his holster. “That’s it,” he said, “I’ve had enough.”
Tank wielded both of his pistols and aimed them down upon Nate.
“Go ahead, I’m not afraid to die,” Nate said. “I’m a religious person, so go ahead and kill me now, you’ll just be fulfilling my journey to God quicker,” Nate finished, spitting out more blood from his mouth.
Tank smiled, “As you wish,” he said. Then he pulled the trigger with his first pistol, the shot rang out striking Nate in the chest. As the pistol kicked back, he used his left hand to fire off his second pistol, the bullet striking Nate in the stomach.
Soon after the other men, outside of Peter Savage who just watched placing a cigar in his mouth, started to fire upon the boy. Tank simultaneously fired off shot after shot from his two pistols; the other men were shooting their single pistol into the lad, who was already dead by now. Nate slipped away after the third shot; his head slumped over to his side, his eyes closed. Still, the men continued to shoot at the now dead boy.
There was a constant thunder, shot after shot; smoke filled the air once again. After they had finished, Tank went to reload his pistol, soon afterwards, he began shooting again. From behind, a person yelled at him, “Stop it! Just stop it you bastards!”
The men turned around to see it was Mrs. Richardson, stumbling forward to stop Tank Savage from destroying Nate’s body. She stopped in front of his now deceased body, she looked at Tank in eyes; slapping him across the face. “You should be ashamed of yourselves,” she scolded at them.
“I have no regrets,” Tank said shaking his head, “the bastard broke my shoulder,” Tank replied.
“And that gives you the right to kill him?” she shouted back at him.
“Come on boys, let’s file out,” Peter said calmly, looking back at Nate’s now mutilated body, full of at least twenty holes in his body. “I’ll take care of him,” he said to Mrs. Richardson.
Minutes after, Jeb came running across the road towards him home, he ran straight into his father. “Jeb? Oh my God Jeb? Are you okay? Where’s Nate?”
Jeb had tears in his eyes, “They killed him, they killed him,” Jeb said with tearful eyes, “I know they killed him. I heard the gunshots. He let me live,” Jeb said guiltily.
“It’s okay,” his father said, dismounting from his horse and hugging his son. “Sssh,” he said as Jeb cried in his arms. “It’s okay,” he said to Jeb. In his mind Mr. Smith was thinking to himself, ‘this is it, this is the last straw. One of us isn’t going to live to see the end of this war,’ he thought to himself looking at his son crying in his arms.
