First Name Jesse, Last Name James

What is Home

A week later, at the crack of dawn the Quantrill saddled up and headed out of camp. We left nothing behind to show that we were even there. People have been calling what happened in Lawrence, ‘The Bloody Massacre of Lawrence’. Every town we pass through you can hear their whisperings of the massacre of Lawrence and ‘Bloody’ Bill and his tumultuous horde. I adjust the lifeless hat on my head to sit on my brow.

We keep the horses at a steady trot as we make our way to Texas. Arthur has fallen asleep behind me. I feel the dead weight of his body against mine. Frank travels on my right. I see his eyes blink rapidly, trying to keep himself awake. I look at the sun and measure the distance it has raised from the ground. We had been travelling for twelve hours from the looks of it; we were close to the next town though.

Whether or not we stopped in the town for a rest, I didn’t know. Neither of us had eaten anything since dawn. I nudge Arthur in the ribs to wake him up. I hear him grumble and straighten himself up.  “Grab that piece of cheese from the sack there.” I listen to his hands rummage through it, scratching against the dense fabric.

“What would you like me to do with it, sir?”

“Eat it, of course.” He doesn’t move at all, he just sits there, contemplating.

“Did you hear me?” I ask raising my voice a little louder.

“Yes, I did. Are you sure, sir?” I roll my eyes, but it is a wasted gesture since he can’t see it.

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it, now eat.” He hesitates for a few seconds till I hear his teeth scraping the cheese and jaw chewing slowly. I look to my right to see Frank eyeing me closely. He gives a shrug and turns his head forward. I see the dust rise up as one of the raiders from the front doubles back to the line. He stops a few feet in front of us.

“Union soldiers, fifty clicks east! Everyone at the ready, we charge at the whistle!” He kicks his horse as he scurries back up to the front. So now we are mutts to be commanded by a whistle.

“Arthur, I want you to hold on tight and watch the left side and rear.” I instruct him, my voice hard.

“Yes, sir.” I gather the reigns in my left hand and curl my fingers around my pistol with my right. Frank brings his horse up beside mine and gives me a hard look. I give him a small nod; I return my attention to the front and wait for the death call. The whistle pierces my ears and the horses shriek in response. Giving my horse a firm kick with my heel, we lurch forward. Dust kicks up and obscures my vision. They leap out at us like ghosts in the night.

“Man on your right sir, position at 10 o’clock!” Arthur shouts and I move my pistol automatically in the direction. I fire off a round without even seeing the soldier; Arthur was dead on when he said 10 o’clock. Union soldiers ride past me, hooves pounding the ground like thunder. The plain was uneven, small turrets rise from the ground. I fire off several more rounds clearing a path in front of us. I spotted a large mass of earth that offered protection like a shield from the side. I grabbed Arthur and threw him into its protective shadow.

“Stay here and take this,” I tossed him the second pistol. I rounded my horse in time to see a Union soldier charging. Lifting my arm I aimed at his chest. My muscles pinched in my arm and locked the joint straight. I squeezed the trigger tight, feeling the repercussion shoot through my nerves. Red spurts from his mouth as he falls to the ground, dead.

I blink my eyes rapidly and whip my head around, looking for someone to avenge him. I can barely comprehend what I had just done. Shooting a gun off was one thing. Staring into the eyes of a dying man, a man that you yourself just shot dead was something else entirely. I kept my horse still in front of the protective shelf where Arthur was.