Free Mississippi DEAD by Shawn Weaver Page B

the pair headed back toward the house.  As the insects buzzed around them, a few minutes passed until Johnathan saw Abel and William appear between the house and barn.
    Standing, Johnathan took off his cap and watched the men cross the field and return. Wiping his brow with his sleeve, he asked Abel, “Done?”
    “All but one,” Abel replied, chewing on the shaft of a long piece of grass.
    “One? I told you to kill ‘em all!” Johnathan looked from Abel to William. Neither man met his eyes.
    “Couldn’t, one’s just a kid.”
    “Doesn’t matter. Damn Confederates wouldn’t think twice about putting lead in you.”
    William shook his head. “Can’t, Johnathan. Can’t kill a kid outright. It’s different if e’s across the way and I don’t have to look ‘em in the eye.”
    Abel agreed. There was many a child upon the battlefield. Even his younger brothers were out there somewhere.
    “Christ almighty,” Johnathan spat. “Take me to ‘em.”
    “He’s hogtied behind the barn,” Abel said, knowing that he could be in a world of hurt, as well as a court martial, for not obeying orders.
    Shouldering his rifle, Johnathan looked to the rest of his men and barked orders. “Abel’s with me. Isaiah, check the house. William, go with Smitty and check the barn.”
    The tired men stood and went about their orders without complaint. No longer worried about being cut down, all crossed the field.
    Johnathan spotted a small overgrown garden. In the weeds he noticed the green tops of carrots and the yellow flowers of a mustard plant.
    Probably wouldn’t be much, he thought to himself, but knew that anything added to their dwindling rations would be welcome.
    With the sound of the long grass sweeping past their boots, Abel led Johnathan across the perimeter of the field and to the row of rotting hay bales. The wet pungent odor of the hay tickled Abel’s nose. Wiping it with the back of his hand, he pointed to the three bodies on the other side of the bales.
    Seeing them lying at odd angles. Johnathan could tell that William had taken his job seriously and done the men in without a single shot fired. By the way that their heads lay, Johnathan could tell all of their necks were broken. Johnathan had no idea why he questioned whether they were dead or not. Could be that the days of travel and the mounting war had brought him to the edge and he was ready to go home.
    Without being told, Abel started to strip the Confederate soldiers of any useful items — bullets, powder, and a few had worthless script issued by the Confederate States. Abel tossed the paper money to the side, but he kept the silver coin that he found. Silver, no matter which side it came from, always retained its value.
    Luckily, a few had hardtack left in their gunny sacks. As he pocketed it, Abel hoped that better rations could be found inside the house. But he doubted it. The way that the fighting had been going, back and forth across the states, each side had scoured the land of food and of every item of value.
    “Hairy bastards,” Abel said, then bit into a small gold coin. The metal bending under his teeth showed that it was real.
    “And you’re not!” Johnathan sat on the ground and pulled a boot off of one of the dead.
    “Not that hairy. These guys are wearing fur coats.”
    Johnathan chuckled as he checked the size of the boot against his own. The boot was large, but anything was better than the one he wore. The hole was so big he could wiggle a toe through it.
    Tugging off the soggy boot, Johnathan pulled on the dry one. Finally he had a good pair, even if one were black and the other a worn brown.
    Grabbing a gunny sack, they piled the acquired goods inside, and picked up the dead men’s rifles. Abel led Johnathan towards the back of the barn, where, in the high weeds, the unconscious young boy lay. A large goose-egg sized welt shined across his forehead and his hands and feet were tied together with the strap of his own rifle. The boy