by Larry Hunt
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
“Mornin’ Major”
Riding into Albertville a few days earlier Luke had worn a civilian jacket over his blue Union shirt. He was not sure how the folks in and around Albertville would take to a soldier dressed in Union blue coming into their town.
Riding out of town, he removes the jacket and wears the old blue Yankee shirt and yellow suspenders he has been wearing for months now. They might be Union blue, but they seem a part of him, and he feels comfortable wearing them.
Luke and his convoy follow the road from the top of the Plateau of Sand Mountain into the valley, but they pass the military compound at Fort Payne. They are anxious to get to South Carolina and are not wasting any time on this trip, besides, the horses and mules are fresh and the load is easy for them to pull.
In a couple of days, they are in the Blue Ridge Mountains of northern Georgia, at the southern end of the Appalachians. At night, Luke does not post a guard, and during the day he isn’t concerned about running in to soldiers. After all, the War is over.
It must have been the second or third day traveling down a winding trail through the mountains when suddenly from the woods to their left five men emerge. Their dress is Confederate gray, and their once proud uniforms are dirty, ragged and disheveled. The leader’s collar indicates he once held the rank of Major.
“Mornin’ Major,” said Luke as the men approach. “You fellers trying to make your way home?”
“What’s it to you Yank! Mind yer own business, what you got in them wagons?”
“Hold on there Major, I was Confed just like you boys.”
“Nah, I see yer still wearin’ that stinkin’ Yankee blue. I should shoot you down right here and now!”
“Wait a minute Major, the War is over – I know the South lost, but you fellers should get on back to your homes and get on with your lives. Y’all probably got a missus and young’uns that are waiting on y’all to return.”
“You Yankee scum, don’t you be tellin’ us Southern boys what we need or don’t need to be doin’. You got a rifle in that wagon yer ridin’ in?”
“No sir, I don’t have a rifle in my wagon, but I have a Colt .44 in this gun holster I’m wearing.”
“Hand it over to me, real slow-like now. General Lee might of give up, but we didn’t. We jest found out it’s easier to rob Yankee folks like you travelin’ through these parts.”
“Major, you’re just an outlaw, robbing folks just because there are more of you fellers, and you got guns. This isn’t right?”
“Oh, we do more than jest rob, we are goin’ to kill you too. We don’t leave any witnesses.”
“Major, please reconsider what you are doing – you have survived the War and survived it alive. Why would you all want to go get yourselves killed today, now that the War is over and having endured the hardships and misery of these last four years?”
One of the Major’s men riding behind Luke’s wagon responds, “I think you got it wrong Yank, youse the one that’s gonna get kilt,” he said starting to poke his rifle into the rear of Luke’s wagon.
Before he has a chance to see inside, Nate from his wagon behind Luke, grabs his fully loaded Spencer, fires from the hip punching a .56 caliber hole clean through the renegade soldier. The bullet knocked the rider off his horse to the muddy road. Sam grabs his Spencer and begins firing too. Luke still has the Colt in his hand, the butt-end toward the Major. He suddenly flips it around into firing position and shoots the Major, two lightening quick slugs to the chest.
It was all over in a matter of seconds – the Major and all four of his men lie bleeding and dying in the mud. Luke steps down from the wagon and approaches the dying Major, who is gasping for breath. He manages to mumble, “I...I thought you...you said you didn’t have a...a... rifle in your wagon!”
Luke kneels down beside the dying man, “I didn’t have a rifle, but my two friends in the back wagon did. They have a couple of seven shot Spencer repeaters. Oh, sorry, did I forget to mention that? I guess you and your friends now know what those rifles can do, when fired up close and personal, huh?
“I suppose you should have taken my advice Major and gone on home. Now you’re just going to be dead, lying here in this slimy, Georgia mud because we’re moving on down the road. Maybe someone will come by directly and bury y’all’s sorry souls; otherwise the buzzards are fixing to have an excellent meal. Oh, Major do I sound bitter? You’re darn right I do, I didn’t lie to you, I am a Southerner and I fought proudly for the Southern cause, lost some of my blood and a bunch of my friends, but men like you cheapen the South’s whole War effort.” Luke reaches over and removes the “CSA” emblem from the Major’s muddy hat. Looking at the metal emblem he is holding he says out loud, “CSA - Confederate States of America; you don’t deserve to be wearing this!” Luke throws the piece of metal into the woods.
“Nate, you and Sam strip them of all their guns and knives, and pitch the saddles in the wagon. Run the horses off, we can’t care for them.”
“Right you is.” Says Nate.
Standing up, Luke touches his own cap in a half-hearted salute, “So long Major, I believe this just hasn’t been your day!”