Free Mississippi DEAD by Shawn Weaver Page A

the high grasses, cut down before he even had a chance to fire his rifle.
    A small one story house made from roughhewn timbers sat alone across a high grassed field, its stone chimney on the right side and a series of windows spaced intermittently along the walls. On the left, a few yards away, a squat barn sat. Unlike the house, it was not made from rough timbers. It seemed to Johnathan that the owners had taken their time with building the barn, making sure that their livelihood continued.
    Shots rang out from the left. Johnathan ducked down, pressing his body as far into the dirt as he could. Peering up, he spotted three rifle barrels poking out from behind a row of rotting hay bales.
    With every muzzle flash Johnathan knew it was now up to him to make sure his men stayed alive.
    “William,” he said, not taking his eyes off of the hay bales.
    “Yeah?" William answered from behind, his voice sounding tired.
    “Slip around the back of the barn and see what you can do.”
    "Sure."
    For a second Johnathan could have sworn that William sounded happy at the chance for action. He did not hear William slip away, but he knew the solider was now in his element. Unlike the others who fought side-by-side, William was a loner, and enjoyed being able to fight on his own.
    “My powder's wet,” Johnathan heard Smitty say from his position behind a tree, just as another volley of lead came too close.
    Johnathan knew that most of the men were in the same situation. Everything they had was wet. Down to his last few shots, he had no idea how much ammo their attackers had, but he did know they had the upper hand. Hopefully, if William held true to his actions, he would eliminate the opposition before they realized that he was there.
    The rifle fire died down, and crickets started to chirp from their hidden spots in the thick undergrowth. Johnathan saw the rifles pull back from the hay bales. He guessed that the attackers could not see them, but only knew their general location. He doubted that the Rebs would slink off and hide. The war had come down to that. Every man fought hard. Everyone knew that the war was coming to a close, which made the Confederates desperate for another win. They had taken the advantage at Chancellorsville and wanted to continue their roll across the states.
    A frog croaked from the edge of the stream as Johnathan counted the silent seconds. Another shot rang out, going wide. Then silence once again.
    A hundred heartbeats later, a twig snapped to his left and Johnathan rolled over, swinging his rifle upwards. At that moment he wished he had kept his bayonet, but he, like thousands of his brothers-in-arms, had left the heavy weapon behind almost immediately after being requisitioned.
    Finger on the trigger, Johnathan instinctively pulled it. The hammer came down and nothing happened as the firing cap was struck. Then he noticed that it was not a Confederate who had snuck up.
    “William,” Johnathan swore. “Good lord, man. I almost plugged you.”
    “Sorry,” William choked out, looking down the barrel of Johnathan’s rifle.
    Knowing he was lucky that Johnathan’s powder was wet, William dropped to the ground. Heart pounding in his chest, he let out a long breath and felt his empty stomach rumble.
    “Job’s done,” he said as Johnathan lowered his rifle.
    “You kill ’em?” Johnathan signaled for the other men to move forward.
    Nodding, William responded, “Yeah, I think.”
    “You think!” Johnathan repeated as William looked tiredly at the ground. “Abel, get up here.”
    In his ungainly way, Abel McCurdy made his way over, his pack rocking on his back, threatening to fall off.
    "What?"
    “Go with William and make sure that the job's done.”
    Abel saw his friend cringe at having to go back. He knew that the man had had his fill of killing. Dropping his rifle next to Johnathan, Abel shucked his pack and then drew a long bowie knife from its sheath at his waist.
    With William leading the way,