Storiesonline.net
-------

                               Gunslinger
                               by The Scot

Copyright© 2006 by The Scot


-------
Description: A star high school football quarterback loses his father, his girlfriend and his career, all in the same explosion. Now, he goes back in time to get the ones who did this, as well as saving the United States from being destroyed. What he finds on his one way trip is 'home'.

Codes: MF no-sex ScFi TimeTr slow hist ESP rom
-------

-------

Copyright© The Scot, 2006

-------

Chapter 1

Kevin McKinsey looked up at the bulletin board hanging just inside the main entrance of his high school. Posted on the board was the sports headline from that morning's Birmingham paper. It read: GUNSLINGER PLAYS WITH LOADED FORTY-FIVE. As he read the accompanying article, he was hit by a strange mixture of pride and humility.

To those who were not football fans in the State of Alabama, this headline would have been very misleading, but this was part of the hype preceding the state championship game being played that night in Birmingham. The game featured a perennial powerhouse from Dothan, Alabama and Kevin's team from the normally mediocre Ft. McClellan (Ft. Mac) High School in Anniston.

The article itself covered the awesome passing statistics of Kevin, whose nickname was 'Gunslinger' and the exploits of his best friend, Jamar Pickney, whose jersey number 'forty-five' was the other half of the headline. The two of them together had averaged over six hundred and fifty yards a game during this, their senior year.

Now, to many, Kevin's reaction might seem strange, but his pride was in his team and in the exploits of his best friend. Kevin was very atypical of the traditional sports hero. First, he was extremely intelligent, scoring over fifteen hundred on his SAT's. Second, he did not see himself as someone special, but just someone doing his job. Of course, he did enjoy winning, but primarily because it was a way of measuring his performance. Beyond football, he tried as much as possible to be a normal student... friendly and pleasant to everyone.

As Kevin turned away from the bulletin board, he heard his coach calling from down the hall.

"Kevin, I have some people in the teacher's conference room who would like to talk to you."

"Coach, I have French this period."

"I know. Mrs. LaRee is aware of this meeting and has given you an excused absence. In fact, when I asked her if you would miss anything, she laughed and said you already spoke French better than she did."

Kevin laughed and replied, "Well, it didn't hurt that I lived in France for almost four years when Dad was stationed there."

Coach Bryson led his star quarterback down the hall, asking, "Speaking of your Dad, is the Colonel going to be at the game tonight?"

"Yes, Sir. He's flying in to B'ham this evening and is going directly to Legion Field. If I can, I would like to ride home with him after the game."

"Son, I don't see a problem with that. You get to see him little enough as it is."

"I know, but staying with Sergeant Pickney and his family is not bad. I have Jamar, and the rest of the family treats me well."

Just before they entered the room, Coach asked, "Does it ever seem strange to have a black family be your guardians?"

"Coach, Sergeant Pickney worked with my Dad for close to thirty years. When we were babies, and Jamar and I even shared the same playpen. With Mom dead, and my Dad having to travel so much the past couple of years, they have been my family. I never think about the color of their skin, just about the love and respect they've shown me."

In the conference room, Kevin was introduced to two men and a woman. The older of the two men looked to be around forty-five. He was dressed in tan slacks, a white shirt, maroon tie, and a camel hair blazer. The younger man was dressed in black slacks and a bulky pullover sweater. The woman was in her early thirties, blond and wore a Navy blue skirt and blazer, a white oxford blouse, and a burnt orange scarf around her neck as an accent. It was obvious she had done her homework, wearing Auburn University's colors. Kevin had already committed to accept their offer of a scholarship.

"Kevin," as Coach introduced the people who waited to shake his hand, "this beautiful young lady is Alicia Clotfelter with ESPN. The two gentlemen are Robert Armstrong of Sports Illustrated, and Geoff Palmer of Fox Sports. With your permission, they would like to interview you."

Kevin looked frustrated at his coach. He wasn't pleased with this, but he would try to be pleasant to the people who had traveled a great distance to learn more about him.

Ms. Clotfelter seemed to sense his discomfort and asked, "Kevin, do you have a problem with this, or are you just shy?"

"Honestly, I am uncomfortable with this, but probably not for the reasons you think. As far as I'm concerned, it is the rest of the team you should be interviewing. If they didn't do their jobs, I would be just another high school quarterback hoping for a scholarship offer somewhere."

Mr. Armstrong replied, "Kevin, that attitude is really why we would like to get to know you and introduce you to our audiences. You are the antithesis of the stereotypical high school 'jock' we've all heard about. I think for that reason alone, the interview would be worthwhile. When we add your phenomenal statistics, it will make our readers and listeners want to learn about the real Kevin McKinsey."

The young man from Fox added, "Kevin, I agree with Robert, but it's more than that. You're like the 'kid next door' to people. You're accessible, humble and genuinely care about more than just football. In addition, from what I have learned, you're intelligent enough to go to school anywhere, even without football. This makes you 'good news', compared to so many out there who are bullies, trouble makers and borderline gangsters."

Kevin thought for a moment and slowly nodded as he asked, "Okay, but how will we work this. I'm missing one class this morning, but I don't want to spend all day doing interviews."

Alicia replied, "Your Principal said the same thing. What we have proposed is a joint conference, with two camera people placed in the far corners of the room. We will just have a casual discussion, and share the results between us. Would that be acceptable?"

"Yes, Ma'am. I don't see a problem, though I do have some limitations I must impose."

Robert Armstrong looked concerned and puzzled as he asked, "And they are?"

"First, if the subject comes up, no one says anything about my father other than he is in the Army. Second, no pictures of our home, or anything about where I live while my father is away is to be shown, or discussed. Finally, I want nothing said about my social life. I have a very precious girlfriend, and she deserves her privacy."

The reporter from Fox looked at the others and said, "Kevin, we agree to those conditions, but why the restrictions about your father and your living arrangements?"

"My father is an investigator with CID, the criminal investigation division of the Army. He often has to work undercover, so I don't want anything said which could put his life, or career, in jeopardy. As for the other, while my father is traveling, I stay with his old sergeant's family. Even though we have progressed a lot in this state, there would be some out there who might respond negatively to me staying with a black family."

Geoff replied, "Kevin, your reasons are obvious and acceptable. We will do nothing to compromise any of the three relationships."

With everyone now in agreement, two camera crews were quickly brought in. Mikes were placed in front of each of the four, and tested. Finally, a makeup person worked with each of them for a few moments.

When the interview began, Alicia introduced everyone to the audience, and gave some overall statistics of Kevin's high school football career.

Turning to the young quarterback, she asked, "Kevin, are you nervous?"

"Yes, Ma'am. I still can't figure out what all the fuss is about. It's my teammates who enable me to do what I do. They're the real stars of this team."

Geoff responded, "Well, I talked to most of your teammates after practice yesterday, and their opinion is a little different. To a man, they said it was an honor just to be on the field with you. In fact, I got the distinct impression they would follow you into Hell. Their feeling is that without you and Jamar, they would not even have a winning season, much less be playing for the state championship. As for Jamar, he says everyone keys on you, and he just has to wait for you to put the ball into his hands."

Kevin replied, "Well, if you believe all that, then I would like to talk to you about some property in New Orleans."

Everyone laughed at Kevin's obvious joke.

"Kevin," responded Mr. Armstrong, "I spent yesterday reviewing the films of your season. I have to be honest. I have never seen anyone, even in the pros, who seems to sense where everyone was on the field. Have you even been sacked this year?"

"No, Sir. But I came close many times, and I have the bruises to prove it."

"Also, I've never seen anyone with the throwing touch you have. Whether it is across the middle, or long down the sidelines, the ball seems to have eyes. From what I could see, the only interceptions you had were tipped balls and the only incompletes were dropped balls or obvious throwaways. What do you attribute this to?"

"I guess most of it is just practice. I've thrown to Jamar almost every day since I was seven or eight years old. This past summer, I worked out with all our receivers for more than two hours a day. Of course, it was unofficial and none of the coaches were involved. Jamar and I also spent a week at one of Auburn's camps for high school athletes. They were able to help both of us immensely in fine-tuning our patterns and our play fakes."

Alicia responded, "And clearly the effort has paid off. Now, tell us about Kevin McKinsey. We know your father is in the Army and your mother died several years ago of cancer. Has growing up in that situation been hard on you?"

"I have to be honest and say it's been hard without Mom. She was a beautiful and very loving woman who created a hunger for reading and learning that is still in me today. As for my Dad, I have a great relationship with him, and we have been together for most of the time since Mom's death. I even went with him when he was stationed in Europe. It's been only in the past twenty months, when he has been gone more than normal. Fortunately, he only has another eleven months before retirement. He plans on being there for every game I play at Auburn."

Robert Armstrong asked, "Kevin, if it's not asking too much, why Auburn? With your grade point average and your SAT scores, you could have gone anywhere in the country, football or no football."

"I guess it's mostly because of the unique spirit I found when I visited the school. Dad, Mom and I actually started going to their games when I was around five. Except when we were overseas, we have missed very few of their home games. Other than West Point, I don't think I ever considered any other school."

"Have you picked out a major?" Alicia asked.

"I plan on getting a double major in criminal justice and military science. I expect to make the Army my career, though I would like to study law sometime in the future."

Surprised at this revelation, Geoff Palmer asked, "What about professional football? With your abilities, surely you have to be thinking about the possibility."

"Mr. Palmer, while I may change my mind in the future, it is presently not in any of my plans."

Looking at his watch, Kevin announced, "I'm sorry, but we have about five minutes before the bell rings. I think we have time for one more question."

Geoff replied, "Then I'm going to go after the question which has bugged me since I first heard about you. How did you get the nickname 'Gunslinger'?"

The other two reporters added, "Thanks, Geoff. I think it's a question we would all like to have answered."

"Well, it actually goes back to before my mother died. My dad was off on some assignment. While he was gone, he visited an old friend. Somewhere around that time, his friend found a pair of the old Mattel Shooting Shell cap pistols, along with a bunch of the bullets, plastic tips and stick on caps. They belonged to his son who had been killed in Viet Nam. After talking to Dad, he passed them on to me to enjoy.

"I was fascinated with them and even learned to work with leather in order to make my own 'fast draw' holster. Of course, I got Mom to help me. I would play with them in my room for hours, drawing and shooting at cardboard targets.

"When I got older, Dad gave me a twenty-two pistol modeled after the old Colt Peacemaker. Finally, about three years ago, I moved up to a real Colt forty-five and even a cap and ball forty-four. It's not really a big deal, but my playmates started calling me Gunslinger when I was around nine and the nickname stuck. Recently, a lot of my friends have shortened it to 'GS'.

In a follow-up question, Geoff asked, "Do you still go to the range and shoot?"

"Yes, I do. I really do enjoy going to the range and shooting. In some ways, I was probably born a hundred years too late."

Alicia asked, "What about any other hobbies?"

Kevin looked at her and replied, "Ms. Clotfelter, you're cheating, but I will answer your question. I'm an amateur magician, and I enjoy riding horses. I've also studied numerous martial arts forms, though I have never been tested for a belt. Now, I need to wrap this up. I have an exam in AP Chemistry in less than ten minutes, and I'll have to hurry to get to class on time."

Kevin shook everyone's hand and hurried out the door.

When he reached his locker, Jennifer was waiting. She looked so sexy in her maroon and gold cheerleading outfit.

"Good morning GS. Where were you during French?"

"Would you believe I was being interviewed by Sports Illustrated, ESPN and Fox Sports?"

"Really?"

"Yep, they wanted to know all about our love life."

Jennifer grinned and said, "If that's the case, I'll bet it was the shortest interview they've ever had."

"Actually, I embellished it so people wouldn't think I was a virgin or something."

Jennifer stopped dead in her tracks and looked hard at the only boy she had ever dated. In fact, the only dates either of them had ever had, were with each other. With her eyes looking deeply into his soul, he could no longer keep a straight face.

Realizing he had been teasing her, she gently slapped him on his butt and said, "If we win tonight, I plan on changing that status."

Kevin was still standing there with his mouth open, as she hurried off to class. Suddenly, he snapped out of his daze. He was grinning from ear to ear as he headed for Chemistry. He passed through the doorway just as the tardy bell began to ring.

Mr. Long looked up and said, "Mr. McKinsey, I'm glad you have decided to grace us with your presence on this eventful day. Though, with what you do to the curve, I'm sure there are many here who would have been delighted if you had missed this exam."

"Sorry, Mr. Long," Kevin replied. "I was delayed getting out of the interview, even though I told them I had to get to an exam."

"Interview, Mr. McKinsey?"

"Yes, Coach got me out of French to meet with some people from Sports Illustrated, ESPN and Fox Sports."

The teacher grinned, as his feelings for Kevin were like so many of the other teachers. The young man was a great person and a delight to teach. This view was especially true for Mr. Long, as he had never had any use for athletics or athletes. This year however, because of Kevin, he had not missed a single game, and would scream himself hoarse over the exploits of his pupil.

"Kevin, I hope you are prepared, as this will be an exceptionally tough test."

With that remark, the class groaned as the exams were placed face down on each desk. Mr. Long was noted for his thorough tests, but he was also fair and graded on a curve. What most did not know was once Kevin aced his first two tests, the teacher had removed Kevin's scores from the curve, as he did not want the rest of the class to be penalized by their extraordinary classmate.

When he had finished passing out the exams, Mr. Long stated, "You may begin. When you finish, you can quietly gather your books and head to the gym for the Pep Rally."

The exam was two pages long. The first page dealt with the properties of selected elements. When Kevin finished that page, he turned to the second page where he read:

The five questions on the first page count one point each. For the other ninety-five points, who is the number one high school quarterback in the nation?

Kevin immediately broke into laughter. Moments later, the rest of the class joined him in discovering their teacher's joke.

Laughing with his students, Mr. Long said, "Now, get out of here and head to the gym, and Kevin, good luck tonight."

For the next forty minutes, the entire student body, teachers and even the lunchroom workers met in the gym. They loudly cheered these modern day gladiators who would carry their school's colors and honor into the forthcoming game. It was a very moving experience, and the coaches even led the team in their own version of the 'Tiger Walk' on the way to the waiting buses. To say the players were pumped up, would be putting it mildly.

For the next hour and a half, the bus journeyed west on I-20 until it joined I-59. They exited at Arkadelphia Road and then turned onto Eighth Avenue. Two blocks later the buses pulled into the designated parking area outside the stadium.

Once the bus came to a stop, the coaches, trainers and equipment managers unloaded the team's gear, and Kevin led the rest of the team inside to look around. The arena was huge compared to the high school fields where they normally played. As a result, many of the players were becoming intimidated by it's size, as well as by the reputation of their opponent.

Sensing what his teammates were feeling, Kevin sent one of the freshmen for the team's practice balls. When he returned with one of the managers and a large canvas bag full of footballs, Kevin retrieved one.

"Okay Mustangs, listen up."

When he had their attention, he said, "I believe I know how most of you feel right now. This place is huge, and in a few hours, it will be filled with more people than most of us have ever seen at one time. We can let this field and Dothan intimidate us, or we can focus on what got us here. What say you, my friends?"

Tom Witherspoon, their center replied, "Run, Mustangs, Run!"

"Now, the first thing I want you to take note of is that this is a football. It is just like the football we have played with all year and is just like the one we will be using tonight. This football cannot intimidate us, nor can it beat us. Am I right?"

Mike Thomas, their tight end, led them in the answer, "Run, Mustangs!"

Kevin smiled and said, "Mike, take off down the field twenty yards and slant across the middle."

Even though they were wearing blazers and ties, without hesitating Mike did as instructed. Kevin seemed to ignore Mike until he made his cut. Suddenly, he cocked his arm and threw the ball while hardly looking at the receiver, or where he was running. The ball landed perfectly in Mike's hands. After catching it, Mike ran back to the other players.

"Mike," Kevin asked, "did that pass feel different to you?

"Nope. It was just like hundreds you've thrown to me."

"How about the field? Does the grass seem to be different than what we're used to?"

"It seems to have just a little more of a slope, but not enough to affect us."

"Jamar, is this field any bigger than what we're used to? What about the yard markers?"

Grinning, Kevin's friend replied, "Nope. It's just like what we've been playing on for most of the year. Ten yards are ten yards, and the field is a hundred yards long."

Buck Washington, one of the wide receivers said, "GS, all that is good, but what about the crowds and the noise. What if you call an audible, and we can't hear you?"

"Buck, you've brought up a good point, but also remember Aniston is a lot closer to B'ham than Dothan. I expect this place will have a lot more of our fans here than Dothan will. Besides, when you play at Mississippi State next year, the noise will be a lot louder than what we will hear tonight."

Buck grinned and said, "Yeah, that's true. Especially with all those cow bells ringing."

Kevin turned serious a moment and said, "Guys, Buck does have a good point though. It will be hard for the wide receivers to hear my audibles. Any suggestions?"

Allen Smith, the strong side tackle said, "Kevin, why don't you give us three plays in the huddle. Then, begin your snap count with the play number, as well as holding up one, two, or three fingers. Starting with a four and holding up four fingers would signify a new play."

Kevin looked carefully at his teammates. He had played with many of them since the seventh grade. They knew him, and he knew them. As a result, the confidence which showed on their faces strengthened his own resolve. What's more, it was their idea, not his or the coaches. They would make it work.

"Okay, I think it's a good plan, but I'll have to talk to Coach Bryson about it. Now let's head back to the locker room and get prepared."

When they arrived, Coach Bryson came over to Kevin and asked, "What's going on?"

"The fellows were getting a little intimidated by all this. I took them out on the field and helped them to get their focus back. They did come up with a suggestion as to how to handle much of the crowd noise."

"Really? Tell me about it."

Kevin explained the idea Allen had presented, and how he thought it would work. After going though some different scenarios, the coach agreed with the plan.

Coach Bryson asked, "Kevin, for this to work, you're going to pretty much call your own plays out there. Are you ready for that?"

"I think so. After all, we probably audible more than thirty percent of our plays as it is. I do have one suggestion though."

"What's that, son?"

"I would like for Coach Brown to continue calling signals from the sideline. This might help keep Dothan from catching on to what we're doing. Also, if the two of you want something special called, place your hands on your hips. For that play, I will call what he signals, subject to audibles, of course."

"Kevin, it sounds like a good plan. I'll go over it with the other coaches while everyone gets dressed out. One last thing, though."

"What's that?"

"Kevin, win or lose tonight, coaching and working with you has been the pinnacle of my career. Not only are you a great passer and team leader, you are one of the finest young men I have ever been associated with. I'm proud of you... very proud."

With that said, Coach Bryson gathered the other coaches into a side office, while Kevin and his teammates continued to get dressed out.

Shortly before the Mustangs were to head onto the field to get warmed up, there was a knock at the door. One of the coaches answered and called for Kevin. When he arrived, there stood his dad. They immediately fell into a deep and loving hug.

"I'm glad you could make it, Dad. I've missed you a lot this season."

"I'm sorry, son, but there is something crucial going on. I had to threaten to resign my commission to get the General to agree to let me come home, as it was."

"How long will you be home?"

"I've got to report back Monday morning, but I've got us three tickets for the Iron Bowl tomorrow."

"That's great. There is nothing like being in Auburn when they play Alabama, but why three tickets?"

"I figured you would want to take Jennifer, especially since she will be our house guest tonight."

A stunned Kevin looked hard at his father and asked, "And you're alright with that?'

"Son, I won't say I'm thrilled at the idea, but as Jennifer explained to her father, it would be far better and safer than if her first time was in the backseat of a car somewhere. Now that's for later. Right now, get your head back into this game and give 'em hell. At the same time, Son, remember it's only a game and tomorrow you will be the same person, win or lose. Therefore, go have fun. The rest of your life is before you."

"Thanks, Dad."

"Kevin, one more thing. I'm proud of you, and your mother would be too."

There were tears in Kevin's eyes as he closed the door.



-------

Chapter 2

Shortly before seven o'clock, the coaches led the Mustangs onto the field. Then, while the rest of the team went through calisthenics and warm-up exercises, Kevin went off by himself and went through a series of Tai Chi forms, loosening his muscles and centering his focus. By seven-thirty, they were ready.

The actual kick-off was scheduled for seven forty-five. Just before the teams took the field, Jennifer came over to Kevin and gave him a kiss on his cheek for good luck.

Immediately afterwards, the Mustang's captains, Kevin, Mike Thomas and Jerome Cannon approached the center of the field and were introduced by the official to their counterparts from the Dothan Wildcats.

Dothan won the toss and elected to receive. The Mustangs kicked off and stopped the return at Dothan's thirty-five. At that point, the Wildcat offense came on the field and proceeded to drive for their first score. Their offensive line was much bigger than the Mustang defenders, and just opened huge holes for their backs.

On the ensuing kickoff, Dothan gambled that the Mustangs would not be expecting an onside kick, and they were right. The kicker hit the ball at a funny angle, causing it to spin. It traveled over the heads of Ft. Mac's linemen and just dropped, bouncing wildly toward the right side of the field. This play had obviously been practiced, as there was no one but Wildcats around the ball when it landed.

Three plays later, Dothan flooded the left side of the field with receivers. This drew most of the Mustang defensive backs to the area. Dothan's quarterback then hit the tight end coming across the middle. Once the pass was caught, the Wildcat wide receivers became blockers, and no one touched the tight end before he crossed the goal line. Less than five minutes had passed and the Mustangs were already down by fourteen. What was worse, they had yet to even touch the ball.

Dothan kicked off again, but this time it went into the end zone for a touchback. Kevin led his team onto the field, taking possession on their own twenty yard line. On the first play, Kevin pitched out to Jamar, who immediately ran into a wall of defenders for a four yard loss. On the next two plays, it was just a repeat of the first... no matter what the Mustangs tried, they ran into Dothan players waiting on them. The Dothan defensive players were not only bigger and stronger, their aggressive style simply overran the Ft. Mac offensive scheme.

On fourth down, the Mustangs punted. Dothan caught the ball on their thirty and returned the ball into Mustang territory. From there, they proceeded to move down the field for the third time.

While the defense was on the field, Kevin, Coach Bryson and Coach Brown huddled on the sideline, discussing the situation.

A dejected Coach Bryson said, "Kevin, we don't seem to be able to stop them, and they seem to know every play we're trying to run."

Kevin answered, "Coach, I don't think they can know our plays, but their aggressiveness and their size makes it easy for them to get into our backfield before the play can even start to develop. On my last hand off to Jamar, I almost handed the ball off to their blitzing linebacker. He actually hit Jamar with my hand still holding the ball. What's more, they seem to be keying on Jamar."

Coach Brown responded, "They won't be the first team to try it. It didn't stop us before."

"Coach," said Kevin, "you're right, but we've never played anyone with the size and speed of these guys. If I didn't know better, I would swear we were playing the Alabama Crimson Tide, not the Dothan Wildcats."

Both coaches laughed at Kevin's candid remark, but they also understood why he felt the way he did.

Finally, Coach Bryson said, "Kevin, I'm at a loss. Do you have any ideas?"

"Coach, try switching the defense from a four three to a three four and randomly stunt two or three of the linebackers on almost every play. I would take Toby out except for very short yardage plays, and move the two corners up to play outside linebackers. Finally, I would move our safeties up to replace the cornerbacks and put Jamar and the Terrell kid in as free roving safeties."

A stunned Coach Brown exclaimed, "Kevin, it would take us a month to get the line used to those changes. With Jamar never having played safety, and Brian Terrell being an inexperienced freshman, we'll get blown away."

"Maybe so, Coach, but it's already happening. We've got to get them out of their rhythm and become unpredictable. As for Jamar, when we practice with the other players, he often takes the safety position to give them the feel of having to play against a defender. He has good speed, good hands, and a keen mind. Brian, on the other hand is green, but he is also the hardest hitter on the team. He plays with reckless abandon, as well as having good speed and good hands. They will be our 'stoppers', and I wouldn't be surprised if Jamar has more than one interception, while Brian causes several fumbles or dropped balls."

A thoughtful Coach Bryson asked, "What about Jamar playing both sides? Won't he get exhausted?"

"First, Jamar is in far better shape physically than you realize, and second, from here on out, he will be more of a decoy than the primary running back. I plan on using Dothan's aggressiveness against them, though our play may look more like 'sandlot' football than anyone is used to. Also, no more calls from the sideline. If we need to make changes, or you want me to run something special, send it in from the sideline. We're going to run a hurry up offense and try to keep Dothan from getting set for every play. I don't want the distraction of looking at the sideline for signals, especially when they are decoys."

Coach Bryson smiled at his young quarterback and said, "Son, I don't see we've got anything to lose at this point. Have at it. Is there anything else?"

"Yes, Sir. Send Cory to join Coach Lawson in the press box. Tell them both to watch carefully for anything any of Dothan's players do which could tip us off as to their plans. Also coach, I want you to rotate our wide receivers more frequently, including the younger players. I want fresh legs on almost every play. Finally, I want Jason to move to a back's position, as I want two blockers in the backfield."

"But Jason's a guard, he's never run the ball in his life."

"Not quite true. He played tailback for me in junior high before he went through a growth spurt. Now, he's a fast pulling guard and is heavier than most backs. His speed and size will help open holes for our backs, and give me more protection on pass plays."

At this point, there was a loud cheer from the stands. Expecting Dothan to have scored again, they were surprised to find that Dothan had fumbled the ball instead. It was now the Mustang's ball, starting on their own twelve yard line. Those cheers turned to confused silence as Kevin walked on the field and called time.

With time being called, Kevin gathered all the offensive players around him and explained, "Guys we're making a bunch of changes to try to counter Dothan's size and aggressiveness. First, except when I move to the shotgun, we're moving to a full house backfield. The difference is that it will look more like the wishbone, but in reverse."

Jamar asked, "What do you mean, GS?"

"Instead of the full back in the up position and two running backs in the 'Y", we will put Jamar, or his substitute, in the up position and two fullbacks in the "Y". Jason, you will join Ted as a second fullback. Most of the time, Jamar will be a decoy and another blocker, while I will be using the fullbacks more to run the ball and provide more protection on passes and more power to our sweeps. I'll be rolling out more, and I expect the wide receivers to pull their safety and cornerbacks deep. Tom, besides blocking as a tight end, you will be my primary safety valve. Unless I give you a pattern to run, you just work to get open, so stay alert. Any questions?

"We'll do our best," was their answer.

At the same time, Coach Bryson and the other coaches were working with the defense. Finally, the official came over and told them it was time to resume play. Once they got back to their place on the field, Tom Witherspoon, the center, called everyone into the huddle.

Kevin said, "I want to run a variation of thirty-two right, but after faking to Jamar, we'll shift to 'student body' left with Buck trailing as the option man. On two, break."

The Mustangs moved into their positions. On the two count, Kevin took the ball from Tom and moved step to his right. Jamar also went to the right, and Kevin pulled off a perfect fake by actually putting the ball in his best friend's arms before pulling it back out. Then, while the Wildcats pounced on Jamar, Kevin pivoted and followed the two blocking backs and one of the guards in the opposite direction.

The only Dothan players who were not fooled were the right defensive end and the corresponding outside linebacker. To their credit, both players were disciplined enough to stay 'home' instead of following the fake. Jason, the guard playing fullback, and the pulling guard took out the end. However, the linebacker fought off the block from Ted and moved in to stop Kevin. Just before Kevin was hit, he made a perfect pitch back to the trailing wide receiver. As a result, Buck was twenty-nine yards downfield before he was forced out of bounds by the safety. The Mustang bench and fans went wild.

From there, the Mustangs moved down the field to score. After the extra point and the kickoff, the revised Mustang defense came on to the field. With the changes Kevin had suggested, the Wildcats were thrown out of their rhythm. Unfortunately, because they had not practiced these new formations, the Mustangs made some errors and eventually the Wildcats were able to score again.

In spite of the score, Coach Bryson was realizing that with each play, the Mustang defense's execution was improving. This improvement continued, so by half time, Ft. Mac had actually made the Wildcats punt a couple of times. In addition, Brian Terrell had caused two fumbles, even though one went out of bounds before the Mustangs could recover it.

When the Mustangs entered the locker room at the half, they were behind thirty-five to twenty-one. In spite of being behind, the Ft. Mac team was becoming increasingly confident. As a result, they maintained their focus, and spent most of the half discussing problems and how to resolve them.

Jamar, the running back who was suddenly playing safety, took over the leadership of the defense and was working with the defensive coaches and players to shore up their ability to keep the Dothan offense out of sync, and out of the end zone. At the same time, Kevin was working with the offense, discussing different ways to use misdirection and counter plays to offset the Wildcat's defensive speed and aggressiveness.

About ten minutes before the second half was to start, Cory Williams, the Mustangs' number two quarterback entered the locker room. He had been assigned to the press box to look for subtle clues and habits which might help the Mustangs.

Kevin looked up when Cory entered and asked, "Well, did you spot anything?"

"Did I ever! GS, you must be clairvoyant."

Kevin yelled, "Hey! Everyone, gather around and listen to what Cory has learned."

With the rest of the team listening intently, Cory said, "Let's go down the list. First, their quarterback makes one of the stupidest mistakes I think I have ever seen. When he exits the huddle, if it's a pass play, he puts the tips of his right fingers in his mouth to wet them. Second, watch his feet when he lines up to take the snap. If the play is going to the right, his right foot is several inches behind his left one. If the play is going to the left, it's just the opposite. If they are equal, then he's dropping straight back to pass.

"As for the tailback, if he's carrying the ball, he lines up about a foot further back than if he's the decoy or if he's blocking. Their wide receiver, King, sets up almost like a sprinter in track if he's the primary receiver and is going deep. The rest of the time, he stands more upright, with his hands on his knees. In addition, just before he makes a cut, he moves his head slightly in the direction of his cut."

"Wow!" exclaimed one of the players in the back of the room.

Kevin added, "I agree. Anything else?"

"Oh, yes. Their center moves the ball into a vertical position just prior to the snap on running plays, but leaves it sideways for passes. In addition, he occasionally actually lifts the ball and edges it forward. Coach Lawson said Jerome should point this out to the line judge. The next time the center does this on a crucial down, just blow through him. In that situation, the best thing Dothan could hope for would be a penalty for drawing us offside, because we've got a good chance to force a large loss or a fumble."

Coach Bryson said, "Good job, Cory. These observations should give us an edge in stopping them more in the second half. What about help on the offense?"

"The primary thing Coach Lawson and I noticed was how they dealt with our counter plays. Their defensive ends and corner backs are holding a second to see which way the play begins. Those on the opposite side stay home or cheat just a little to the inside. Coach says if we reverse our tight end and fullback's blocking assignments, they will be more effective. He also suggested we designate one player whose primary responsibility is to neutralize their middle linebacker."

Mike Thomas, the tight end asked, "Cory, I'm not sure I follow you on the reversing blocking assignments. Can you elab... explain?"

"You want me to elaborate?"

"Yeah, that's the word."

"Okay. Normally, you would try to block the defensive end, while Jason or Ted would take out the corner back. Instead, Coach wants you to brush block the end, before hitting the outside linebacker or corner back, pushing him back towards the center of the field. As for the defensive end, whoever is the blocking back for that side is to get up a head of steam and go straight at him. That back's goal is to put the defensive end on the ground, or at least move him towards the sideline. This should give Kevin the option to pass, run or pitch out through the vacuum left behind."

Coach Bryson said, "Excellent, but I would make one suggestion to Mike and Kevin. Every so often, let Mike slip past his intended block, and have Kevin hit him about five yards past the defensive player. This should give Mike a chance to pick up some good yardage before the defensive man realizes Mike didn't just miss the block. It'll also remind them he's still an offensive threat."

Turning to Kevin and Jamar, he asked, "Anything more you need to say?"

Jamar replied, "Yeah, let's go kick some Wildcat butt!"

The second half was as wild as any college game anyone had ever seen. The primary differences were Cory's observations and Kevin's arm, along with his uncanny ability to know where everyone was on the field. Finally, with less than thirty seconds on the clock and down by four, Kevin finally got Jamar free and hit him with a sixty-three yard pass.

The final score was fifty-nine to fifty-six, Mustangs. In addition to more than a hundred points, the two teams had amassed more than twelve hundred yards in offense. It was definitely not a defensive struggle. Kevin and Jamar were carried off the field by their teammates, and Kevin was given the MVP trophy.

Back in the locker room, the celebration looked like it would go on for hours, but Kevin quickly showered and dressed. As he explained to his friends, he only had a short time with his dad and wanted to make the most of it. He never mentioned that Jennifer was also planning to spend the night.

Thus, after joining in one last cheer, Kevin slipped out of the locker room. Jennifer and his dad were waiting for him in the hall. The three quickly headed for the Colonel's car, a dark blue Tahoe, and moments later they were on the Interstate headed back to Anniston. For the entire trip, the three excitedly talked about the game and their plans for the next day.

Around eleven-thirty, Kevin's dad stopped the Tahoe at the base of their driveway. The house was on a low hill about sixty feet from the road. There was a five-foot retaining wall between the property line and the sidewalk, with steps leading through it and up to the house. The mailbox was in front of the steps. Kevin got out and headed to get the mail. His dad and Jennifer started up the hill, but the SUV stalled out. His dad restarted it and drove up to the top of the hill.

By the time the car came to a stop, Kevin had gotten the mail and climbed the steps. When he was about five feet inside the wall, his eye noted a flash of light from several houses away. For some reason, he immediately knew what it was.

Unfortunately, his scream of "No!" never made it past his lips. The Tahoe exploded, and the force of the explosion blew Kevin backwards and over the retaining wall.



-------

Chapter 3



Three days later, Kevin awoke in the hospital. Nadine Pickney, Jamar's mother, was sitting in a chair beside the bed when he opened his eyes. Her 'mother's sense' immediately told her he was conscious, and she hit the button to call the nurse. Turning to Kevin, she could see him trying to talk, but the only sounds which came out were grunts and groans.

"Do you need some water?" she asked.

Kevin nodded, and she immediately retrieved a cup of ice water and a straw. She also cautioned him to take only small sips at the moment. Kevin still had the straw in his mouth when a overweight white nurse entered the room. She scowled at Nadine, then ushered Jamar's mother out of the room while she took Kevin's vital signs.

Finally able to talk, Kevin asked, "What happened?"

Miffed about a black women sitting up with this white boy, the nurse gruffly replied, "Someone from the Army will be in to talk to you shortly."

After she left, Nadine returned, along with retired Sergeant Gerald Pickney, her husband. They both had tears in their eyes.

A panicking Kevin asked, "Sarge, could you please tell me what's going on?"

"Kevin, General Scott will be here shortly. He feels it's his job to bring you up to date. Just remember, we're here for you."

Gerald gently squeezed Kevin's shoulder and Nadine gave him a motherly hug and a kiss on the cheek. With those small signs of affection, the couple left the room. They could hardly bear the emotional pain they carried.

On the way out they passed a doctor coming to look at Kevin. The doctor checked the young man eyes and ears, along with testing for feeling in his right foot. When his examination was finished, he abruptly left the room.

Moments later, General Malcolm Scott, Colonel Mike McKinsey's superior officer, entered the room. Through the partially opened door, Kevin noted guards outside the door and was surprised to see they were armed. He was even more surprised to see they were carrying H&K MP5's.

"General, what's going on?"

"Son, I'm sorry to have kept you in the dark, but I needed to be the one to tell you what has happened, as some of the things I'm going to share with you are considered classified. The President and I thought, under the circumstances, you had a right to know. First, though, I would like to ask you what you remember about that night."

"You mean after the game?"

"Yes, and by the way that was some game. ESPN has been televising the taped replay, calling it the game of the decade."

"Thanks. I remember getting to the house and getting out to get the mail. Dad started up the hill, but the car stalled. By the time he had it restarted and had pulled up in front of the garage, I was past the concrete wall and coming up the hill. I remember seeing a flash of light to my right and starting to scream. I don't remember anything else until a few minutes ago."

"Kevin, that flash of light was from a Russian made RPG-7, and it hit your dad's car directly on the passenger door. It killed Mike and Jennifer immediately and blew you over the retaining wall. You hit the concrete on the sidewalk below, your right heel was damaged and you had a pretty severe concussion.

Hearing this, the young man broke down in tears. Malcolm sat on the edge of the bed and held Kevin, letting him cry out his emotions and pain. Colonel Mike McKinsey had been his friend. Malcolm knew it was the least he could do.

A few minutes later, Kevin slowly started to get a hold of himself. He dried his eyes on a tissue from a box beside the bed and took a few swallows of water. There would be more tears and emotional upheaval later, but for now, Kevin knew he had to deal with reality.

"What my prognosis, Sir?"

"Kevin, as I mentioned, you suffered a pretty severe concussion, and your right heel was badly broken. According to the doctor, they've fused the bones of your heel to speed your recovery and reduce your pain. Eventually, you should be able to walk naturally, with little or no pain. The real problem is that you will never be able to play football again. Not only will your injury affect running, but you won't be able to plant your right foot to throw a pass."

"What about the Army, Sir? Will my injury also keep me from that?"

"Kevin, I know you intended to follow in your Dad's footsteps into the Army, but sadly, even that option is now closed to you."

Tears were again filling Kevin's eyes as he saw his losses becoming an insurmountable mountain before him.

Angrily, Kevin asked, "Who did it, General? Terrorists?"

"We're not sure, but we think it was related to a case your father was working on. This is classified, but it involved the disappearance from a research lab of a previously unknown element we think was part of a meteor. My suspicion is that Mike was getting too close, and they were trying to stop him. You and Jennifer just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"What about Dad's arrangements?"

"He was too badly burned for a normal burial, so I had his remains cremated. The Army is taking care of all the arrangements, and his ashes will be placed at Arlington as soon as you are able to travel. In addition, since he was stationed here for so many years, we're planning a memorial service for him at Fort McClellan."

"What about Jennifer?"

"Kevin, I've talked to her parents, and they are pretty upset and angry at the moment. They don't blame you or your dad, but until they undergo some healing, they don't want to see you. They also had her cremated, and I was able to get the people at the crematorium to prepare this for you."

With that, Malcolm pulled out a small metal capsule suspended on a chain.

"What is it?"

"A small amount of her ashes you can wear close to your heart."

Kevin smiled and said, "General, I think you are a 'closet' romantic."

"Let's just say I understand what you're going through."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Kevin, you're welcome. Just understand, your dad was not just one of my officers, he was my friend. I'll help you in anyway I can."

"Thank you, Sir. What happens to me now?"

"First, Auburn has had to withdraw their offer of a football scholarship, but they have replaced it with a full academic scholarship. Your dad had a fair amount of insurance, which will help you financially. In addition, the Army will extend his retirement benefits and survivor's benefits to you for as long as you are taking classes, even through graduate school. Based upon all of this, you won't be rich, but you should be able to live comfortably.

"General, it won't replace my dad or Jennifer, but I guess it's a better start than most young people get."

"I would agree with you. Now, since the Army is closed to you, and you no longer have these options, what do you think you will want to do with your life?

"Sir, I really don't have a clue at the moment. All my plans and dreams were destroyed in the explosion."

"Kevin, Mike talked often of your love for horses. You might consider breeding horses. From what I understand, Auburn has an outstanding large animal science program."

"Sir, I have to admit the idea has great potential, but I'm not in shape to make any decisions at the moment."

"I understand, but if you do decide to raise horses, you need to know about a two thousand acre section on the back side of Fort Mac, which will be available for you at very favorable terms. It backs up to the Talladega National Forest and has plenty of water. Of course, we'll need to clear it of any unexploded ordinance and replace a few fences and buildings, but it would make a very good horse ranch."

"Thanks, General, but I'll have to give you my answer when I can begin to think more clearly. What I would really like to do, is get my sights on the people who did this."

"I can relate to your feelings, as I would like to do the same. For now, you need to concentrate on getting better and finishing school."

"What about my home? What am I going to do there?"

"Kevin, your home was pretty much destroyed in the explosion. Since you won't be eighteen for a few more months, we have arranged for you to continue to stay with the Pickneys. Social Services wasn't excited about the idea, but the temporary custody papers from your dad helped. I also had Washington put some pressure on them, so they've backed off."

"Thanks for making sure I can continue to stay with Sarge and Nadine. I don't know how many more changes my body and emotions can take."

"You're welcome. It was a pleasure because I knew it was what Mike would have wanted."

"General, how long will I be here?"

"Son, I don't know for sure. Possibly another week. It's pretty much controlled by your recovery rate."

"What about school?"

"It's all being taken care of. Your teachers are making sure you don't miss anything, and I have the feeling you won't be getting lonely. Your teammates have been worrying the hospital to death. In addition, there are a lot of retired Army people in this area who knew and respected your dad. I suspect they'll be almost fighting each other to do things for you."

"Sir, I don't know if I can handle having a bunch of strangers trying to help me."

"Kevin, you need to at least try. Remember, these men need to grieve, too. They lost one of their own, and a special one at that. Helping you at this time will enable them to get through this, as much as it will benefit you."

"I never thought about it like that. I just don't want to be a bother."

"Kevin, you can't separate yourself from the world. There are too many people in the world who need you. Just remember, calling on them for help is not a bother. They've made that perfectly clear."

Visiting hours were over at eight, and Malcolm left when a nurse came in to check Kevin's vital signs.

When she wrote the results on his chart, Kevin asked, "How am I doing?"

"Actually, you're doing pretty good. I'm going to give you something for the pain and to help you sleep. According to the doctor's instructions, you're supposed to be allowed to eat in the morning."

"Good, because I'm starved."

"I can imagine. Just remember, we'll have to start you out slowly, so don't set your expectations very high. I suspect once you're able to urinate normally and have had a bowel movement, they will begin working on your physical therapy. I have no clue if it will be done with you as a patient, or an outpatient."

At the end of their conversation, the nurse injected some medicine into Kevin's IV and turned down the lights as she left the room. A few minutes later he was asleep.

Later in the night, Kevin's pain returned, resulting in the injection of more medication. After reviewing Kevin's chart the next morning, the doctor decided to keep the young man sedated and on pain medication for the rest of the day.

Wednesday morning, Kevin was allowed to have a piece of toast and some weak tea. When he was able to keep that down, for lunch, he was served chicken noodle soup, saltine crackers, and Jell-O. At dinner, he had basically the same thing.

Thursday's breakfast was oatmeal and apple juice. When he was able to keep his breakfast down, Kevin was taken off the IV. His lunch finally contained some solid food, mashed potatoes and baked chicken.

An hour later, a nurse came in to check on him, and Kevin told her he was starving.

She responded, "Well, that's a good sign that you're getting well. If it helps any, the doctor has placed you on a normal diet, starting tonight. What we need now is for you to urinate and have a bowel movement. Also, he has lifted your restriction on visitors."

Around three forty-five that afternoon, his coaches came by to see him. While the other coaches asked how he was doing, Coach Bryson brought out a juicy hamburger, fresh from one of the better restaurants in town. Kevin thought he had died and gone to heaven. Of course, one of the nurses came in and caught them. However, she just smiled and never said a word.

After she left, Coach Bryson asked, "Kevin, how are you doing?"

"Coach, right now I'm miserable. I've lost my dad and Jennifer, and I don't even know why. In addition, my football career is over, as is my option of going into the Army. The future I had all mapped out, including the girl I expected to make my wife, has been destroyed by someone with a grenade launcher. I honestly don't know where to go from here, nor am I really sure I even want to try."

A surprised Coach Bryson said, "What is this about a grenade launcher? We were told it was caused by a gas leak."

"Then, Coach, I just revealed something I shouldn't have. Please forget I even said anything. I will tell you however that the house was totally electric. There was no gas to leak out and explode."

"Kevin, with that information I can understand your feelings. What everyone at school was told implied only an unfortunate accident. What you're saying is that Jennifer and your dad were murdered. I accept the need to keep this quiet, but Jennifer's parents need to know."

"Coach, I agree, but they're not talking to me at the moment. They don't blame me, but they sent word that I represent all the pain and anguish which they are experiencing. They don't seem to realize that each of us have suffered a great loss. We are all the victims here."

"You're right, Son. I'll see if they'll listen to me."

The coaches stayed a little longer before they finally went home to their families.

Shortly after dinner, Jennifer's parents entered the room.

Jennifer's Mom asked, "Kevin, how are you doing?"

"I'm not in any physical pain at the moment, but my emotional pain is almost unbearable."

Mr. Thompson responded, "I'm sorry we weren't here for you. We lost our little girl, and you were the easiest person to blame. We never thought about the love you had for each other, or your hopes and plans for the future. Of course, we know 'nothing' about the events which transpired, but we now understand how we have all been victimized by the same traumatic event. Will you forgive us and try to include us in your life?"

Confused, Kevin answered, "Of course I forgive you, but I don't understand the other."

Mrs. Thompson explained, "Kevin, at first we did not want to see you because you represented our loss. Now, we realize, because of the love you had for each other, you actually represent the memory of our daughter. Your two lives were so intertwined for such a long time, it is almost impossible to remember Jennifer and her life without including you. Therefore, we would like you to consider yourself part of our family."

"I understand, but you should realize we've already had some custody problems, so it would have to be at an emotional level only."

Mr. Thompson asked, "We haven't heard of any custody problems. What is going on?"

"It's not common knowledge, but my dad gave temporary custody to Jamar's parents while he was traveling. Because they are a black family, the local head of Social Services has been trying to get me removed from their home and placed with a foster family."

"Son, I know you two boys are close, but why would your father give them temporary custody?"

"When Dad was a green 'shave tail' lieutenant, he led a platoon in Nam. Gerald Pickney was Dad's platoon sergeant. I never heard all the details, but I do know they were ambushed on their first patrol. When the firing started, Dad froze for a moment, and Sarge had to tackle him to get him under cover. When the shooting stopped, Dad was okay, but unfortunately, Sarge took a bullet in the leg. Dad lifted Sarge over his shoulder and carried him to a safe LZ, twelve miles away.

"I think before it was over with, they must have saved each other's lives several times. I do know Sergeant Pickney's career was tied to my father's and the link lasted until Sarge retired. Heck, our families were so close that, when Mom was alive, Jamar and I even shared the same playpen while our moms sunbathed or fixed meals for our two families. There was no one my father would have trusted more to look out for me."

Tears were in Mr. Thompson's eyes as he said, "Son, what a tremendous story. I was going to offer to adopt you, but now I think it would be a dishonor to your father to do so. I will tell you, and I'll pass it on to Sergeant Pickney, we will be there for you, in any way we are needed."

Turning to his wife, he said, "Now, Momma, I think we need to let 'our son' get some rest."

They both gave Kevin a big hug, and she gave him a mother's kiss. Her kiss was still on Kevin's mind when he fell asleep a short time later.

Friday Morning, Kevin was awakened much earlier than normal by a nurse wanting to check out his vital signs. Shortly after she finished, he was served a surprisingly good breakfast of country ham, grits and scrambled eggs made with onions, cheese, and mushrooms.

When he finished eating, she returned and pulled the curtains to give him a sponge bath. Kevin was very uncomfortable with this idea, but he knew he couldn't bathe himself. Finally, it was her professionalism which helped win him over. What she was doing wasn't sexual, it was just a part of her job.

As she worked to carefully and gently get him clean, Kevin asked, "Why are we getting started so early?"

"Since you were able to urinate and have a bowel movement yesterday, I've been told you're being released today, and I'm to get you ready to go on a trip. From the rumor I hear, you're going to meet the President."

"I doubt that, but I do know I'm supposed to go to Washington to bury my dad. Most likely, when someone heard Washington, they just assumed the President would be involved."

She replied, "I guess that's possible."

Looking at her nametag, Kevin replied, "Betty, I can't imagine why the President would want to meet me, anyway."

"If he's seen the video of your game against Dothan, I can sure understand. You were phenomenal."

"Thanks, but unfortunately, from what I understand, it was my last game."

"I'm sorry. I hadn't heard that."

"From what I've been told, the damage to my heel might not keep me from walking, but I won't ever be able run again, much less to plant my right foot to properly pass a ball."

"So what happened to your scholarship?"

"They had to rescind the offer of a football scholarship, but they replaced it with an academic one. That says a lot to me about the school, because they didn't owe me anything."

"I can see why it would impress you. What are your plans then? Besides football, have they changed any?"

Kevin could tell she was genuinely interested, and the care in giving him his bath was also obvious.

Kevin answered, "Betty, I wanted to study military science and criminal justice. I really didn't care to go pro after college. Instead, I dreamed of following my dad into the CID. That night I lost my father, my future wife, and all my dreams. I honestly have no clue as to what I will do now."

Moved almost to tears, Betty finished the bath and changed his sheets and gown. Before she left, she leaned over and kissed Kevin on the cheek.

"Kevin, you may not have a clue, but God does. I will be praying for you, as you are a very special young man."

"Thank you, Betty. At this point, I will take help from wherever I can get it, even from God."

A few minutes later, General Scott and the doctor walked in together.

The doctor asked, "How are you doing this morning, Kevin?"

"About as good as can be expected. My right foot hurts, but it's bearable. Other than that, the only thing hurting is my heart."

"Son, I can tell you from experience, time will help both hurts. Now, the General here wants to take you to Washington. Are you up to the trip?"

"I haven't tried to walk yet, but I should be okay."

Malcolm Scott responded, "Kevin, for now you'll be in a wheel chair. While we are in DC, I plan to have some specialists at Walter Reed take a look at you. You may be able to do your therapy there."

"What am I going to do about clothes"

"The Pickneys are flying with us. Jamar is on his way here to bring you some clothes to wear for the trip, while Nadine has packed much of your other clothes, and is taking them directly to the plane. If you need anything more when we get to Washington, I'll see it's taken care of."

"Are we going to Birmingham to catch a plane?"

"No son, for you and your dad, this will be first class all the way. A C-20B is waiting for us at the Anniston Airport."

"A C-20?"

"It's a Gulfstream III, built to carry Army VIP's."

Before Kevin could ask how the investigation was going, Jamar came in carrying some of Kevin's clothes. He was followed by an orderly pushing a wheel chair. Though he was uncomfortable with the lack of privacy, with his best friend's help, Kevin quickly dressed. When they were finished, The orderly helped Kevin get into the wheel chair.

A few minutes later, Kevin was wheeled out the front door and up to a white Suburban, where he was lifted inside. There were two sergeants in the front, with one of them driving. They were both armed. Malcolm and Jamar joined Kevin in the rear, and the SUV headed to the airport. The drive was strangely quiet. Kevin finally decided no one knew what to say to him, not even Jamar.

Arriving at the airport, they went straight to the general aviation terminal. Here, they were directed by two security people to drive out to where the aircraft was parked. Kevin figured the Pickneys must have just arrived, as their luggage was still being loaded onto the aircraft.

Suddenly, Kevin saw a bag being placed on the plane which confused the heck out of him. It was the bag he used to transport his pistols and supplies. He could not imagine why it would be there. Intensely curious, Kevin struggled with what was going on. Finally, he decided he needed to wait, and discuss it with the General when no one else was around.

While he had been pondering the reasons for his guns being placed on the plane, Kevin's wheel chair had been unloaded. The two sergeants helped him from the SUV and into the chair. They wheeled him over to a device that looked like it had begun its life as a forklift. It was now used to help people bound to a wheel chair move into a position where they could be rolled into the aircraft.

Once inside the plush aircraft, Kevin was helped into a seat. The wheel chair was folded and placed in storage to be used when they arrived in Washington. A young female corporal approached and asked if Kevin would like anything.

"Yes, Ma'am. A cold Coke would be most enjoyable."

She returned moments later with his Coke. She did not check with any of the other passengers until the plane had taken off and reached its cruising altitude. Even when the airplane reached that point, she first brought Kevin a refill before checking on her other passengers. Her attitude quickly sent Kevin the message that she considered him a more important VIP than the others on the plane, including General Scott. This did not offend or alarm the young man, but he was puzzled by it.

A little over an hour later, the pilot announced they were entering Washington air space and would be landing at Reagan National Airport shortly. When the plane did finally touch down, it pulled up to one of the standard hub points. This would enable Kevin to be wheeled out directly out of the airplane and through the terminal.

At ground level, an Army Hummer pulled up beside the aircraft, and the baggage was moved from the aircraft to the huge vehicle. General Scott and the two sergeants went down the stairs and climbed into the Hummer.

Meanwhile, two men dressed as airline personnel came on board the aircraft and helped Kevin into the wheel chair. With the Pickneys following, the two men wheeled Kevin through the airport to a limousine waiting outside the baggage area.

Once everyone was in the car, the chauffeur introduced himself as Mark Taylor. He explained he would be taking them to their hotel to freshen up, before proceeding to Arlington Cemetery. With that information imparted to his passengers, he drove away from the airport.

When the airport road intersected with the George Washington Memorial Parkway, he turned west. He pointed out Arlington Cemetery as they passed, and a short distance further, he exited the parkway, heading for the Francis Scott Key Bridge. Shortly after crossing the bridge, they pulled into a circular drive which led to a stately, ivy covered, brick building.

Mark announced, "Folks, this is the Four Seasons, one of the finest hotels in the city."

Kevin thought, 'It sure is different from the more modern hotels I've stayed at with Dad.'

Again, Kevin was moved back into the wheel chair, and Jamar pushed him inside. While the others gawked at the rich luxury they saw, Sergeant Pickney approached the registration desk. With tremendous uncertainty he introduced himself to the desk clerk and asked about a room.

"Oh, Mr. Pickney. We've been expecting you. Do you have any luggage with you, or is it all arriving separately?"

"I guess it's coming separately. They didn't put it in the limo which brought us here."

"Not a problem, Sir. We'll see that your luggage is brought up immediately when it arrives."

Turning to one of the bellhops who was standing close by, the desk clerk said, "Andrews, please escort the Pickneys and Mr. McKinsey to Presidential Suite C in the West Wing. Their luggage will be arriving separately."

Noticing his guest's apparent discomfort, the desk clerk smiled and said, "Sir, all costs have been covered, including meals and tips. You don't have to worry about anything during your stay at the Four Seasons."

This relieved the older man's mind. He was impressed by the clerk's discretion about the costs and was able to relax. Well, he could until they arrived at their 'room'. The suite was bigger than their house in Anniston.

After the bellhop left them, Gerald and his wife sat and stared at the unimagined luxury which surrounded them. In contrast, Jamar and Kevin were fascinated with the view they had from the window. They were still trying to pick out different landmarks in the distance when General Scott and his men arrived with the luggage.

Kevin did notice his gun bag was missing, but he did not think it was the time to mention it. Besides, if he remembered correctly, his dad had said DC has some of the toughest gun laws in the country.

As Gerald and Nadine gathered their luggage and headed to their room to get dressed, General Scott opened a garment bag and removed a medium gray suit Kevin had never seen before.

"Kevin, I took the liberty to borrow your blazer, as well as a pair of your favorite slacks. A tailor I know made this suit just for you. The right leg has snaps at the seam, so it can go over your cast without a problem. Later, when you lose the cast, he will remove the snaps and sew up the seam, like normal."

"Thank you sir, but wouldn't the blazer have been sufficient?"

"Son, this is your father's funeral, and there will be a lot of dignitaries present. I think Mike would have wanted you to look your best. I also have a new shirt and an Auburn tie to go with your suit. I think you will do Mike proud."

"Thank you, Sir. I will wear it with that same pride. And thanks also for the Auburn tie. It is a nice touch."

"You're welcome, Son. I would also like to tell you that, after meeting you, I understand why your father was so proud of you. You're a fine young man. Now, do you need some help getting dressed?"

Still uncomfortable with having others helping him dress, Kevin replied, "Probably. Just send Jamar in. He'll be glad to help."

The general left and moments later Jamar entered the room.

He flashed Kevin a grin and said, "Now, if you're expecting me to be your groom or something, you and I need to have a serious conversation."

"Jamar, I don't need a groom, a butler or any other form of servant. What I need right now is a friend."

"Then, you've come to the right place. Friendship I have in abundance. Now, how can I help?"

"Probably the first thing would be to help me sit on the side of the bed. I need to get out of these clothes and into this new suit."

"GS, you must not have looked in the mirror recently, because the first thing you need to do is shave. You look like that vice dude who ran around in the Ferrari."

"Then, would you please see what you can scrounge up, and we'll start there. I wish I could get a shower, but I can't until I get this cast off."

Jamar replied, "If we were home, we could tape it inside a big plastic bag, but I wouldn't know where to start to find any of those things here. Besides, I don't think you could stand up by yourself and wash, which would lead to a predicament. If I helped you shower, it would be stretching the bonds of our friendship far beyond what either one of us would be comfortable with."

Laughing, Kevin replied, "I agree. Now, could you please find me some shaving supplies?"

Jamar left and returned a moment later with a man in his forties, wearing a white coat.

"General Scott already had it covered. This gentleman is Oliver. He's from the barbershop down stairs. He was sent up to give you a trim and a shave. While he's working with you, I'll go get my shower and get dressed."

Oliver and Jamar moved Kevin back into the wheel chair and rolled him into the large adjoining bathroom. Here, Oliver shampooed and cut Kevin's hair, as well as removing his whiskers.

By the time Oliver was finished, Jamar was back to help his friend get dressed. In spite of all Kevin had to do, he was still ready before Gerald and Nadine.



-------

Chapter 4



Once everyone was ready, the General led them to the waiting limo, and the group was whisked back across the Potomac. A few minutes later, they entered Arlington Cemetery and rode to the site where Colonel Mike McKinsey's ashes were to be placed. Kevin was somewhat surprised to find a platform had been erected, and chairs placed on and in front of it.

The party exited the limo and a Captain led the Pickneys to some roped off seats in the front row. General Scott, himself, pushed Kevin's wheel chair up a ramp and onto the platform.

Kevin looked out at the seats in front, as well as the seats on the platform. He could not imagine so many people coming to honor his dad. As the other seats began to be filled, several high ranking officers from the Pentagon took up places on the platform. General Scott brought three gentlemen over and introduced them to Kevin. In the introduction, Kevin learned they were the two Senators from Alabama and the Congressman from his District.

One of the Senators leaned over and said, "Nice tie. War Eagle!'

Kevin returned the Senator's smile and responded "War Eagle. I just regret I'll never be able to wear an orange and blue jersey."

"Kevin, I saw that game in Birmingham, and I have say I regret the same thing. I've never seen a performance like that."

The other Senator added, "I didn't see the game, but I have sure seen the replay. I have to agree with my esteemed colleague, it was an outstanding game. Is the rumor I heard true that you personally engineered the turn-a-round?"

"Sir, I might have made a few suggestions, but only because I had been taught well by some very good coaches."

"Son. Your humility is honorable, but from what I heard, you literally took over the team."

"Sir, with all due respect, I did not win the game by myself. Everyone on the team contributed, even those who did not actually get into the game. As my father always taught me, there is no 'I' in the word: team."

Before anything else could be said, the color guard came front and center, and the band struck up 'Hail to the Chief.' After the first bars, the President stepped up on the platform and approached the podium. Kevin was totally stunned, not having seen him arrive.

For the next few minutes, the leader of the most powerful country in the world spoke about Colonel Mike McKinsey as if he had known him personally. As Kevin thought about it, maybe he had.

Then in the first of several surprises, Kevin was called forth and introduced to the audience. General Scott again pushed the wheel chair himself.

The President reminded the audience of the football game that many had seen from the television replay. He listed Kevin's accomplishments and personally congratulated him for his victory and expressed his sorrow for the young man's loss. In his speech, the President also acknowledged that Kevin's dad, girlfriend and football future had been destroyed by a deliberate terrorist action.

When the president completed his short speech, a lone piper stood on the hillside, playing a haunting version of Amazing Grace. He was followed by a single bugler who played Taps. While the bugle's sound hung like a fog over the cemetery, the honor guard fired their guns in a final salute.

After the last volley was fired, the President presented Kevin with two folded flags. One was the American flag that had been draped over the mock coffin that carried Mike McKinsey's ashes, and the other was a single white star on a red field. Kevin's dad was being buried as a general.

There were other speakers that afternoon, but Kevin was in such a daze that none of it penetrated. Finally, the young man slumped over in his wheel chair, and Malcolm Scott and two secret service men raced to his side. Moments later, Kevin was loaded aboard the Presidential helicopter and rushed to Walter Reed Hospital.

It was several hours later before Kevin awoke to find himself back in a hospital room. At first, he thought it had all been a dream, but then he realized how many of the hospital personnel were in Army uniforms.

Shortly after he opened his eyes, an attractive nurse came in to check on him. She appeared to be in her mid-twenties, with strawberry blond hair, blue eyes, and a cute button nose."

"Are you feeling better?" she asked.

"I don't know. I'm not sure what happened to me."

"From what we were told, you passed out at your father's funeral and were rushed here in the President's helicopter. Your vital signs are good, are you hurting anywhere?"

"No, Ma'am. I suspect my body was overloaded with emotions and just shut down. These have been a hard few days for me."

"That can happen. Is there anything you need?"

"How about a coke on ice and some food. I haven't had anything but a glass of juice and a piece of toast all day."

"Then no wonder you passed out. Your lack of food, aggravated by the emotional overload, probably caused you blood sugar to drop."

"But I'm not diabetic. At least, I don't think I am."

"You don't have to be diabetic to have your blood sugar drop suddenly. As I said, the lack of food and the emotional strain could have easily pushed you over the edge. I'll check with your doctor and try to get you some food as quickly as I can."

"Thanks, I would appreciate it. In the meantime, I guess I'll stare at the 'idiot box' for a bit."

"It doesn't sound like you think much of television."

"Actually, I'd rather curl up with a good book."

The nurse grinned and said, "Gee, I didn't know they still made those."

"Well, as I've said before, I was probably born a hundred years too late."

The nurse shrugged at his answer, not really knowing how to respond. As she headed out the door, Kevin turned on the television. After channel surfing for a few minutes and getting caught up on the news headlines, he found an old Glenn Ford western about a shopkeeper who was running from his reputation of being a fast gun.

He had barely gotten into the movie, when the nurse reappeared with a small digital device.

"I need to see your finger for a moment. Doctor Hannan wants me to test your blood sugar before he prescribes a diet for you."

Taking Kevin's hand, she pricked his finger with the device and read the display.

"Yep, I was right. Your blood sugar is really low. I'll be back in a few minutes with something to give you a quick boost. As soon as possible, I'll try to get you something more substantial."

Kevin returned to the movie, but before the next commercial, the nurse returned with a Coke, a candy bar and a big piece of carrot cake.

"I hope you like carrot cake," she said. "One of the nurses brought it in for our shift. Since she makes a real sweet icing, I thought it might help get your sugar up. Also, the doctor has approved a normal diet, as your other blood tests have not shown any problems. The problem is that it's still more than three hours before the next meal is to be served. I'll see what I can do to get you something more quickly."

Having taken a couple of bites of cake, Kevin said, "I would appreciate it. Also, please tell who ever made this cake, that it's delicious. It tastes like the ones my mother used to make."

"Used to make?"

"Yes Ma'am. She died of cancer more than eight years ago."

The nurse compassionately exclaimed, "And you were at your father's funeral today when you passed out! No wonder your emotions are out of whack."

"Actually, there's a lot more to it than that, but I don't want to bore you with my problems."

Sensing his emotional pain, she replied, "Kevin, I'm a good listener."

"Well, the same explosion that killed my father, also killed my future wife and destroyed my football career."

Kevin could see the emotional struggle in her face as she exclaimed "Oh! You're the kid from Alabama all the male orderlies have been talking about. I'm sorry I didn't connect the dots, but I'm not much of a sports fan. I'll pass this information on to the doctor. The emotional stress of all this has to have affected your body's systems."

The nurse reached over and gave his hand a gentle squeeze before she turned and left the room. She had been trying to hide it, but Kevin had noticed the tears in her eyes. He instinctively knew she had had to leave to keep from openly crying... crying for him and his losses. Maybe there were still some good people in this world, after all.

Once she had left, Kevin tried to turn his attention back to the movie. After a few minutes, he found he just couldn't get into it. After surfing some more, he stopped at the Public Television channel and started watching Sesame Street, remembering all the times he had watched it with his mom. Within minutes, his eyes were full of tears as he realized he had never really gotten over his mother's death, but had only suppressed his grief.

About forty minutes later, General Scott entered the room. He was carrying a large plastic cup in one hand and a sack in the other.

He announced, "Someone said we weren't feeding you right, so I thought I'd correct the problem."

Malcolm handed the sack to Kevin, and rolled the tray normally used for meals over to the bed. As Kevin removed the large hamburger and fries from the bag, Malcolm was surprised to see what the young man had been watching.

Grinning at the young man, The General asked, "Trying to convince all these cute nurses that you're really intelligent and not just some dumb jock?"

After swallowing his first bite of the hamburger, Kevin responded, "Actually, I was thinking about my mother and remembering the times she put aside her work to watch it with me. It's the first time I've really thought about her like that in years. When the nurse brought me a piece of carrot cake, it tasted just like Mom used to make, and the memories and the loss all came flooding back to me."

For more than one reason, this concerned Malcolm Scott, and he asked, "With everything else that has happened, are you okay?"

Between bites, Kevin answered, "Actually, Sir, I'm in a state of emotional numbness, and in some ways my mind just wants to shut down. At the same time, I think getting my emotions out in the open is helping. I pushed away my grief over Mom, and never really dealt with it. Now, I have nowhere to run to, so I'm having to face it."

General Scott gently placed his hand on Kevin's arm and said, "Son, I know it's hard, but it's never good to bury those emotions. Soon after your mom died, I lost my wife and daughter to a drunk driver."

Malcolm paused for a moment to get control and then added, "At first, I subscribed to all that 'bull' about real men didn't cry, that we were too macho to express our hurts. I almost lost my command before your dad sat me down and read me the riot act. Imagine, a major telling a general to get his act together. It wasn't long after that discussion when I made sure Mike got his silver leaves."

Kevin sadly replied, "Sir, I never knew."

"Kevin, the only reason I brought it up was to explain how I can know how you feel. I'm just as alone as you, and while you've lost your dad and Jennifer, I've lost one of my closest friends."

"Thanks, Sir. It does help. I'm also learning that suppressing these emotions doesn't make them go away, it only delays having to deal with them. It also seems to make later emotional upheavals harder to handle. Even though it's only been a few minutes since I started to deal with Mom's death, the other hurts seem to have been soothed at the same time."

"Son, are you sure you're just seventeen?"

"Yes, Sir. I'm afraid so, but right now I wish I was five and could curl up in Mom's arms and have her kiss all the pain away. Unfortunately, I can't go back to those days and times. Instead, I have to face this as an adult, which may be the hardest thing I've ever had to do."

Still concerned, Malcolm asked, "So, where is 'Kevin' at the moment?"

"Sir, like I said, I'm numb, but I think I'm moving out of the shock and denial stage. Obviously I feel a great sense of loss, but I'm no longer devastated to the point of committing suicide, either physical or emotional. I don't think I could have honestly said that a few days ago. I know it will take time for my body to heal and for this pain and emptiness in my heart to ease. I'm now also sure that eventually I will be able to face the future, whatever it may be."

"Kevin, I think it's good you're beginning to deal with your loses in this manner. A lot of people have been concerned about you, even our President. Do you know he had you flown here in his helicopter?"

"That's what someone told me. General, the nurse who has been assisting me here has probably helped more than anyone. The way she expressed her hurt for what I was feeling reminded me there were still good people on this planet, and in this country. I know I'll have more grief to deal with, but maybe I can now focus less on the bad, and start finding more of the good."

"That's the most encouraging news I've heard today. By the way, were you surprised they gave your Dad his star, even if it was posthumously."

"Yes, but I feel he deserved it. Of course, I might be a little biased."

"You might be, but you're also correct. He did deserve it. In fact, I tried to get it for him several years ago, but he did not want to leave CID. The only way he could have gotten both was for me to retire or be transferred to another command."

"Well, it was still an nice gesture."

"Kevin, it was more than a nice gesture. It elevates your status and benefits significantly."

"Oh?"

"I don't know all the details. The brass at the Pentagon will reveal it all later."

"Then I'll wait on my questions until they catch up with me. In the meantime, I have one question for you."

"Shoot."

Kevin laughed at the General's remark and said, "That's what I wanted to ask you about. Why was my gun bag on the plane that brought us here?"

Surprised Kevin had noticed, Malcolm Scott replied, "Let me first ask my own question. Are you as good with those six-guns as your father said?"

"I don't know what Dad told you, but I'm pretty fast. I'm also accurate with both hands, which is kind of strange. Shooting is about the only thing I can do well with my left hand."

"How soon would you feel up to a demonstration?"

"Get me out of here and find me a way to stand, and I can do it right now. Or, as soon as this food gets into my system."

"Then I'll be back in a few minutes."

While Kevin was still pondering what all this meant, his nurse returned, carrying some green scrubs.

Smiling, she said, "Kevin, General Scott just told me about how much I had helped you. I want you to know it has made my day."

"You're welcome, but actually all you did was be yourself. Your professionalism diagnosed the blood sugar problem. Your care and compassion reminded me there were still some people worth caring about. When you brought me the piece of cake, it reminded me of my mom. As I thought back about the time when Mom was still alive, I realized I had never really dealt with her death. Once I started grieving for Mom, it was like breaking a logjam of emotions.

She responded, "Now, hush before you make me cry again. I understand you're being checked out temporarily, but you will be coming back. When you do, you'll be put in a VIP suite, so I don't know if I will ever see you again."

"But, what if I requested you to be assigned to my suite?"

"Kevin, I don't think that would be a good idea. It might start rumors that would not be good. What is worse, is if you did have me assigned to you, those rumors might become true. Right now, I'm as vulnerable as you are, and you're a very handsome young man... even if you are seven years younger than me. I'll do this instead. I promise to stop in and check on you every time I get a chance."

"Thanks, I would like that; though I honestly had not thought of you romantically at this point. In addition, I don't even know your name."

"It's Mary Ann... Lieutenant Mary Ann Blakely."

Nurse Blakely then helped Kevin into the scrubs. When he was dressed, she also assisted him getting into a wheel chair. During the transfer, Kevin did notice he could put more weight on his right leg. He also noticed that several times Mary Ann's breasts had rubbed across his arm. He didn't know if it was intentional or not, but to a seventeen year old boy, it sure felt good.

When she finished, she opened the door, and two young soldiers came in with General Scott.

Looking at Kevin, Malcolm realized how thin the scrubs were and said, "Nurse, we will be moving him to a warm van that is equipped for a wheel chair, but I think he needs more cover to get him there. Could we get a blanket for him? I'll see that it gets back to you."

"Sure. I'll be right back."

Moments later she returned with a soft foam blanket. The two soldiers helped Kevin to stand while she and General Scott wrapped the blanket around him to keep out the chill. When they were finished, Mary Ann gave Kevin a soft kiss on the cheek and then left the room. Kevin and the others followed her, but they turned toward the elevators while she headed back to the nurses station.

In the elevator, General Scott remarked, "She was pretty."

"Who?'

"Your nurse. Did she tell you about being placed in a suite when we get back?"

"Yes, she did. From that, I'm assuming I'm not going back to the hotel with the Pickneys."

"No, you won't be, as you will be doing your therapy here. In fact, some of my people are currently getting your clothes, and are bringing them to where we are headed."

Kevin's countenance fell and he sadly said, "I'm sorry I can't tell them good-bye before they leave."

"Oh, they're not leaving right away. Some of the Sergeant's friends are going to give them a grand tour of the city. I promise you'll get to see them again before they fly home on Sunday.

Relieved, Kevin said, "That sounds good, Sir, though you might talk to Sarge about their accommodations. I suspect they would feel much more comfortable in something a little less luxurious."

"Thanks for telling me. I was so concerned about doing things 'right' for you, I never considered how they might respond."

As they were talking, the elevator doors opened, and Kevin found they were in a basement parking area. An Army van was waiting in front of them, and Kevin could tell it was running because of the exhaust. As soon as the people in the van saw the General, the side door was opened, and a wheel chair platform was lowered. Kevin was wheeled over to the van and quickly loaded inside.

Once everyone was buckled in, the sergeant behind the wheel headed out of the lot. As soon as they were outside, Malcolm pulled out a cell phone and called a captain. That was all Kevin knew, as no last name was ever used. General Scott explained Kevin's concern and ordered him to discuss it with the Pickneys.

Finally, Malcolm said, "Captain, I don't care! Just do whatever it takes to make them comfortable."

A little over thirty minutes later, the van passed through the gates of Fort Meade. After traveling for a mile through the Fort's grounds, they pulled up to the front of a building marked Fort Meade Rod and Gun Club. The men in the van quickly moved Kevin from the warm van into the warm building. The air outside was not really that cold, but for someone in hospital scrubs, it would have felt bitter.

Inside, they wheeled Kevin down a hallway and into a standard pistol range. There were several people waiting for them, but all the shooting booths were empty. As he was wheeled toward an open area between two of the booths, two men came forth and introduced themselves. They were physical therapists and had developed a device they believed would allow him to stand without putting pressure on the mending bones in his heel.

While they helped Kevin get into their device, Malcolm Scott joined three other men who were observing from the side. One of the men, FBI Special Agent Dwight Bowman, was scrutinizing Kevin's physical appearance and liked what he saw. The young man before him was slightly over six feet, and probably weighed around one-ninety. His chestnut hair was in fairly rakish style that could fit into most cultures. He also noticed that, though the subject of his close observation was rather young, his eyes told of aging and maturity far beyond his years.

When he got closer, he realized that Kevin had the same blue eyes as his father. Mike McKinsey had been agent Bowman's friend for many years. Agent Bowman had once described those eyes to someone as 'the look of an eagle'.

'Yes, ' he thought, 'I can understand why Mike was so proud of his son.'

Gunnery Sergeant Octavius James, or 'Gunny' as he was normally called, was doing his own observations of the young man. Though he thought Kevin might make a good Marine, Gunny's specialty was weapons, not recruiting.

Earlier in the day, Gunny had been brought a leather bag containing a pair of Colt western style revolvers. Checking them out, he had been impressed with the care they had been given. He also appreciated the workmanship of the handmade holsters that went with them, though he felt the arrangement was a little unorthodox. He had never seen a set up where the gun for the left hand was on the right side in a cross draw position.

The third gentleman wore jeans and a comfortable golf shirt. He also wore a blue windbreaker with U S Marshal stenciled on the back. Rick Hansen was a Texan who had joined the Marshals after serving for many years as a Texas Ranger. He was considered one of the finest western shooters outside of Hollywood. It was his job to evaluate this young man for a task that Rick would not have wished upon his worst enemy.

After trying several variations, Kevin and the two therapists were satisfied with the makeshift frame attached to Kevin's leg. He still could not walk, but it allowed Kevin to stand without putting any pressure on his right heel, and very little on any part of his right foot.

Once Kevin was comfortable, the two therapists were instructed to wait in the lobby. When they closed the door leading to the hallway, Malcolm led the three men over to meet Kevin. While Kevin was told their names and what branch or agency they were involved with, he was not given any details of each man's expertise, or why they were there.

"Kevin, I would like you to show us what you can do. Would that be a problem?"

"No, Sir. Just give me a few moments to get ready."

"Sure. Take your time."

The first thing Kevin did was check out each of his guns. They were both Colt single action Forty-five's, also known as the Peacemaker. These particular guns were made in the early nineteen hundreds and had five and a half inch barrels.

Next, he belted on the holster and loaded each weapon by inserting one round, skipping a cylinder, and then loading four other rounds. Thus, when he moved the gun to a half-cocked position, the hammer sat over the empty cylinder. Finally, he fit them carefully in the holsters and looked back at the men for instructions.

"Kevin, just go at you own pace. You don't have to push yourself, as we are as interested in accuracy as we are in speed."

Kevin nodded and placed his custom sound protectors in his ears. The other men put on large headsets to block out the noise.

When he was set, he looked toward the targets, which were two human shaped silhouettes placed side-by-side, twenty-five feet away. Because of the way the targets were placed, and because he had no specific instructions to the contrary, Kevin decided to go for both targets at once. He relaxed and focused his concentration. This demonstration was important to him, as his dad had bragged about his ability to these men. He did not want to let his dad down.

Suddenly, his hands were filled with blazing six-guns. Before the men could even comprehend what had happened, Kevin was extracting the spent cartridges and loading fresh ones.

"Sugar!" exclaimed Marshal Hansen. "I've never seen someone so fast."

Gunny added, "I agree, but let's see how accurate he was."

A switch was flipped and both targets moved toward the men via an electronic pulley system. Before the targets were even half way back to the shooting line, it was clear the 'X ring', or the 'heart area' of each paper target was totally shredded. Not a single round had landed outside the area.

Malcolm Scott turned to Special Agent Bowman and asked, "Well, what are your comments?"

"We either give this man a badge, or break his hands. Nobody outside of the military or law enforcement should be that good. I think it's time we tell Kevin what this is all about."

The other men nodded. Gunny immediately jumped to help a puzzled Kevin unload the guns, placing the guns and the unusual holster back into the leather bag.

With a tone of respect, Gunny said, "Don't worry about your guns, Son. I'll make sure they're properly cleaned."

In the meantime, Rick Hansen went to get the two physical therapists. When they arrived, they helped Kevin out of their device. Before they packed up their stuff and left, they also helped him put on some normal clothes and return to the wheelchair.

Gunny pushed Kevin back to the van, with the other three men following. Once they were all on board, they drove away from the Rod and Gun Club, but stayed within the Fort Meade reservation. A short time later, they pulled into the driveway of a normal looking home. The garage door was raised electronically, and the van pulled forward and parked. When the engine was turned off, the garage door closed.

From the garage, they moved into the house. In the living room, a comfortable fire was blazing in the fireplace. The sofa and chairs were placed in front of the fire in a manner that encouraged casual and relaxed conversation.

Malcolm Scott began by saying, "Kevin, before we can explain what this is all about, we need you to sign some forms."

"Enlistment forms?"

Special Agent Bowman laughed and said, "No. Actually, these are secrecy act forms where you promise not to disclose to anyone what we are about to tell you."

"This sounds ominous, but can I ask one question before I sign?"

"Sure."

"Does this have anything to do with my dad's death?"

The four other men looked at each other for a few moments. Finally, the FBI representative nodded.

"Then, where do I sign?"

Once the forms were signed, Kevin listened to an incredible story. A story concerning the theft of a rare element from an Army lab in New Mexico.

Malcolm explained, "Kevin, the investigation was a joint venture between the CID and the FBI. They were operating under my authority, but your dad and Dwight were paired together in the field."

"And where do Marshal Hansen and Gunny come into play?"

"They were brought into the team to evaluate you. Once they were in, they were kept as part of the team."

"But why evaluate me, and what does my ability to handle western firearms have to do with anything?"

"We have learned that one of our researchers, a Dr. Meyerhauf, discovered this material could be used to power a time travel device. This could have been a good thing, except the 'good doctor' was part of a Neo-Nazi group. A group that believes that, without the intervention of the United States, the Third Reich would have ruled the world."

Kevin replied, "And they're probably right."

"I would agree. Anyway, because of his belief, Dr. Meyerhauf studied enough American history to reach the conclusion that, if the South had been successful, eventually the European countries would have conquered the divided nations. The result of this would be that America, as we know it, would not have existed in 1939."

An incredulous Kevin asked, "Are you kidding me?"

"No. Since Mike's death, we found the man's private retreat, including his computer, his notes and a complete diary. What is more, we found the time machine."

"Did you catch him?"

"No, he and a group had already gone back in time. Their plan, according to Meyerhauf's notes, was to assassinate General Grant while he was on his way to Chattanooga to relieve Rosecrans. Dr. Meyerhauf was convinced if he could stop Grant at this point, it would allow the south to exploit the command vacuum, retaking Chattanooga and most of eastern Tennessee. As a result, Sherman's march to the sea would have never happened, and the end of the war would be put off indefinitely."

"And what would that accomplish?" asked Kevin.

"Most likely, either Lee would ultimately capture Washington and the North would surrender, or in another few years, the entire country would be too devastated to ever recover. Either way, the land would be ripe for a take over by several European countries."

A thoughtful Kevin stated, "I have three questions. First, how do we know they haven't already succeeded? Second, how could he have pulled this off? Finally, why would he have left all this information behind?"

Dwight Bowman replied, "Kevin, I'm impressed. Those were the three most intelligent questions I could have imagined someone asking. Now, to answer them, I will have to include some conjecture."

"Okay. Tell me what you know, and then tell me what you think."

"That makes sense. In answer to your first question, we know history as we understand it has yet to change. If it had, we wouldn't be having this discussion. Thus, either they haven't executed their plan yet, or else the past can't really be changed, only a parallel universe is created."

Kevin thoughtfully nodded and said, "I can buy that, and it's probably a question we'll never know the answer to."

General Scott added, "Well, we do have some clues. Do you remember the explosion in Oak Ridge, Tennessee, last year?"

"The one that killed the Congressman?"

"That's the one. Well, a week after the explosion, one of the partners of a prestigious Washington law firm asked the Speaker of the House to meet him for lunch. During the lunch he gave the Speaker a letter their firm had been holding to be delivered on this particular date. They had been holding it since 1879."

"And?"

"The letter was from the Congressman and was quite intriguing. It seems he was not only thrown back in time, but also into someone else's body."

"Kind of like the TV show?"

"That's what I understand, except there were no subsequent leaps and no holographic help."

"And this has been proven to be authentic?"

"Without a doubt, and it explains one of the mysteries of the Civil War."

"And what is that? He didn't become Lee or Jefferson Davis did he?"

"No, but this Congressman was a retired Special Forces Major and a graduate of VMI. The body he came to inhabit was that of John Singleton Mosby, also known as The Gray Ghost. The man whose small unit and guerrilla tactics are copied even today."

"Did these men also end up in someone else's body?"

"Not according to Dr. Meyerhauf's observations. He was working on some theories when objects suddenly appeared in his lab. Then, as he got closer to his final product, he sent the object back to the time where it had first appeared."

Kevin sighed, as his brain was almost in overload, but he asked, "What about my second question? How could he have gotten away with it?"

Malcolm answered, "That part is easy. Though the material was rare, it was not radioactive, it was stable and at the time, we had no use for it. It was just a curiosity and he happened to be the most curious. He was also the most appropriate candidate for the research, because he had doctorates in both rare elements and theoretical physics."

Dwight continued, "From what we've discovered from his diary, he noted the material behaved strangely in certain circumstances. As a result he started researching those strange properties. He had no idea what he was working with, nor where it could lead. He was just doing what he liked to do best, pure research.

"When this happened, his security clearance was intact, and we had no idea of his extreme political beliefs. When he finally made his breakthrough, he moved the remaining material, the device, as well as his notes and computer files concerning the material, to an old lab he had rented. We were called in to investigate when all the material at his disposal disappeared. He had tried to make it look like a break-in and theft, but Mike got suspicious. There were just too many, more valuable things not taken."

"But why would he leave everything behind?"

"Kevin, every time Dr. Meyerhauf's device was used, it required the destruction of small amount of this material. As far as he knew, what he had, was all there was.

Fortunately for us, there is enough material in other places for five more trips. Three for humans, which require more fuel, for lack of a better word, and two for supplies. One of his key discoveries was that living and non-living things have to be transported separately. This means people have to travel nude, and with no weapons."

At that moment, Kevin knew he was going to have an opportunity to go after Jennifer and his dad's killers, so he looked up and smiled, "From what all you've told me, I guess you want me to be one of the three."

"Yes, but for more than one reason. Two people have already been transported to separate small peaceful valleys in southern Ohio, while their supplies were placed in a cave in between. Yesterday, one of our people checking out the cave found a shallow grave. In addition, all the supplies we sent were still there, except the gold, a couple of guns and some of the clothes. It is our belief that one of the men, a history professor who had a penchant for gambling, killed our gunman and abandoned the project for self enrichment."

"And what happens after I succeed, if I succeed?'

Dwight Bowman replied, "I guess you've figured by now that this is a one way trip. We will try to provide you with the resources to live a good life. We just ask that you not to change history any more than you can help. You've probably read enough science fiction to know, at least theoretically, little events can potentially make major changes in the future."

Kevin did not even hesitate, but responded, "Okay, I'm in. Now, where do we go from here?"

"We need to gather supplies, and develop a cover story. Finally, we need to find a place where you can be safely inserted without being in the middle of another person, a rock or a tree."

"That makes sense. What are the keys to the cover story?"

"Well, you would obviously be a young man, young enough for the Army. This is a problem, as most of the young men in the North during this time were being pressed into the service. Trying to skirt this problem is why we chose two older men for our first attempt."

Thinking for a moment, Kevin asked, "What was the North's view of Canada at the time?"

"Basically the North tried to curry favor with Canada. A lot of effort was made to develop trade and political relationships in the hope these would keep them from siding with the South. Why?"

"Because I speak fluent French, as well as English with either a Scottish or French accent. I could be a son of a prominent rancher in Western Quebec, sent to look for cattle and horses to improve the family's stock. With various documents, I should be able to move about with relative impunity. What's more, my being Canadian would help excuse various faux pas."

The General replied, "I think it's a great idea."

Dwight added, "I agree. I'll get my FBI people to immediately begin working on documents, pertinent information and period clothing."

Gunny asked, "What about us? Are we finished?"

Kevin replied, "No, Gunny, not by a long shot. I assume you're an expert armorer, or know people who are."

"Yep."

"Then, I want you to help me develop some weapons."

"Okay."

Turning to Rick Hansen, Kevin said, "Marshal, I need you to help me sharpen my skills. It's one thing to draw against paper targets, but I've never even shot a deer. I need to know I can react by instinct, without getting 'buck fever'."

Pleased with the young man's honest attitude, Rick replied, "I'll teach you everything I can. I also have some buddies in Texas who can probably help you even more than I can..."

More than pleased with the young man's intelligence and attitude, General Scott asked, "Anything else?"

"Yes, Sir. I want all the information available on all of those who went back, including both of your men. I want maps, especially railroad maps, and the best historical summaries we can obtain of this time period."

Dwight responded, "The FBI can provide those without a problem."

Kevin continued, "I also want some real card sharks to teach me everything they can about poker as it was played during that period. I especially want to know all the tricks that could be used to cheat."

Rick said, "We can cover that on our trip to Texas."

Kevin nodded in acknowledgement and said, "Finally, I know where and when I want to be inserted."

General Scott asked, "And where is that?"

"In the cave where the body was found, five days after the first group was inserted. This should put me in the cave shortly after the murder, but after the murderer has fled. We know nothing has disturbed the place since then, and I was probably the one to bury the one who was killed."

Gunny asked, "Why would you think that?"

"Nothing else was disturbed, and the killer would not have taken the time to hide the body if he didn't take time to hide the supplies."

"Then why not get there before the murder and stop it?" asked Dwight Bowman.

"Because his death is already 'history'. Besides, we don't know what might have happened before the murder, only what has happened since then. Don't worry, your professor will not get away unscathed. That's why I want to learn all I can about poker."

Dwight nodded his understanding and asked, "Then, when do we put this plan into effect?"

"The day the cast is removed, and I can move around freely with just a cane," was Kevin's reply.



-------

Chapter 5


The next few weeks seemed to move at supersonic speed. Kevin worked with Gunny to build two modified Remington cap-and-ball revolvers made of a titanium alloy. The alloy enabled the weapon to handle a more powerful mixture of black powder and modern cordite. A fictitious Canadian company was shown as the manufacturer.

In addition, they were designed to use a small amount of the recoil and escaping gases to turn the cylinder and cock the hammer, making it more like a modern automatic pistol, but without a clip. You still had to cock it for the first shot, but then it would rotate and cock itself. The result was similar to fanning, but with much greater accuracy.

Other modifications included a six-inch barrel, rather than the typical seven and a half inch which normal barrel length at the time. Also, a small rolling block safety was added. This allowed the gun to safely utilize all six cylinders, rather than having to leave the one under the hammer empty. A similar safety was added to Kevin's Colt Peacemakers. After a few minutes of practice with the new cap-and-ball pistols, Kevin was able to adjust to them, with no loss of speed or accuracy.

Finally, Gunny helped him prepare some additional items that were kept secret from everyone, including the other members of the team. The first was a thirty-two caliber Walther PPK, which was hidden inside a bound and locked copy of the works of William Shakespeare. Secondly, to go with this hidden weapon, his valise was modified with a false bottom. Hidden there were several hundred rounds of hollow point and Glaser Safety Slug ammunition stored inside of small plastic tubes.

Author's note — A Glaser Safety Slug is a unique type of ammunition for handguns. Designed as a fragmentation round, it consists of birdshot embedded in Teflon™ and covered by a thin copper or plastic coating. It greatly increases the close range 'knockdown' power of the gun, but the 'bullet' does not ricochet, or nor pass through the target into another room or building. Kevin is using it to give the small caliber thirty-two the effective close range power of a forty caliber.

While he hoped the modern weapon and ammo would never have to be used, the small automatic would be much more effective than a derringer. The cane that Kevin would carry was designed to fire the same round in a single shot configuration.

Gunny explained to Kevin that the two distinctly different types of ammunition would give him different options, and increase his likelihood of success. The hollow point would carry further distances, and (apart from the brass casing) would look similar to most of the smaller caliber bullets of that time. Especially to someone removing the bullet from a body.

The Glaser round, on the other hand, was designed primarily for short range protection. At ten feet, it would give Kevin the stopping power of a forty caliber. Using it though had one negative... it's effect would look like nothing that existed, in 1864.

While the weapons and other supplies were being prepared, Kevin spent time working with the physical therapists and studying maps and history of the destination time period. He felt that the more he knew of the area and the time, the better was his chance of success, and the lesser was his chance that he would do something to alter history. He also learned about the various cattle and horse breeds available during the period.

Kevin's trip to Texas with Rick Hansen was both informative and a little frightening. Stopping at a convenience store for gas, they walked into the middle of a robbery. When one of the Mexican 'gangbangers' turned toward Kevin with a gun, Kevin learned quickly that he did not need to worry about 'buck fever'.

During the rest of the trip, Kevin learned about watching the eyes of his opponent more than the hands. He also learned more about poker than he ever wanted to know. Yet, by the time Kevin returned to Washington, none of the gamblers who had been his teachers, would play with him any more.

As the project came closer to execution, Kevin decided to do something positive with his personal assets, which would necessarily be left behind. He worked with General Scott and someone from USALSA (U S Army Legal Services Agency), to ensure that most of it would go to the Pickneys and Jennifer's parents. He even set up a fund so that any of his teammates who did not receive a scholarship offer, could still go to college.

Finally, T-Day arrived. The time device was taken to the cave where the body had been found. Kevin was sent through first. He quickly moved to the farthest wall, and made sure that he was alone. He could see the body lying at the base of the other wall. Two minutes later, his supplies appeared. Those were the longest two minutes of his life.

Kevin immediately unpacked his pistols, in case he was surprised. With his pistols readily available, he quickly dressed. Since the body was already starting to stink, Kevin next used a trenching tool that had been included in his supplies, to bury the FBI sharpshooter.

When that was accomplished, Kevin separated his immediate supplies from those he would need in the future. He moved the 'future supplies' to the back of the cave, where he buried them under a mound of loose rocks. Loading the 'immediate supplies in his valise, he carefully slipped out of the cave and headed for the town of Fairhope, which was located about four or five miles away.

An hour later, Kevin's damaged right foot was killing him, and he knew he needed a rest. Luckily, there was a farmhouse, ahead of him. When he reached the path to the house, he stood open handed, other than his cane.

Using a French accent, Kevin yelled, "'Allo, the house. Is anyone home?"

The barrel of an old muzzleloader was shoved though a crack in the door, and a female voice responded, "Go away!"

"Please, I have a hurt foot. My horse became frightened and ran away. I just need to rest my foot for a bit and get a drink of water."

"Why do you talk so funny? You're not some Johnny Reb are you?"

"No, Mademoiselle, I am Canadian."

"What are you doing here?"

"My family wants to improve the quality of their herds. I was sent to your country to buy breeding horses and cattle, and ship back home."

"Are you armed?"

"Oui."

" 'We'? What do you that mean, 'we'?"

"I apologize, Mademoiselle. It means 'yes'."

"Take off your gun belt and hold it out in front of you. Slowly walk up to the porch and lay your guns beside the door. You can sit in the rocker and rest your foot. I will bring you a dipper of water."

Reluctantly, Kevin did as she asked. He needed the rest and the water, but he did not like to be separated from his guns. On the other hand, this was still pretty wild country, and he could understand her caution.

He loosened the strap on his right leg and undid the belt buckle. Then, holding the guns in his left hand, he hobbled to the porch. He set the guns on the floor of the porch, and used his cane to move them closer to the door. When he moved his cane away from the weapons, the rifle was drawn back into the house.

Nothing more was said by the woman, until he almost fell trying to step up onto the porch. She immediately flew out the door and ran to help him. After she got him seated in the rocking chair, she went back inside. Moments later, she returned with a dipper full of water.

As he drank, he got a good look at the young woman who could not have been much older than him. Her dirty blond hair could have used a good brushing and her dress was thread worn and tattered, with patches on patches. Despite all that, she was attractive. Cleaned up, she could be beautiful.

"What happened to your foot?" she asked.

"I fell off a wall and broke some bones in my heel. It's getting better, but I have been walking for a couple of hours, and it now aches fiercely."

"What are you doing out here?"

"Actually, I was traveling from Willow Wood to Procter. I was supposed to look at some horses a man has for sale. Rather than taking the road, I was trying to cut across country. I stopped to remove a stone from the frog of my horse's hoof. He ran away when something frightened him."

"Well, I don't get many strangers out here, and most of them are up to no good. They either want me and my land, or just my land. Of course, that problem's about to end."

Then, holding out her hand, she added, "By the way, I'm Bonnie MacLean."

Instead of shaking hands as she expected, Kevin kissed the back of her hand in the manner of the French.

Then, using the name that he had already picked out, he responded, "I am Bartholomew Pierre Simpson, but my friends call me Bart. My father is a Scot, and my mother is French."

Becoming more relaxed, she responded, "Both my parents' families lived in this country for several generations, and I don't know where all our ancestors came from. My husband, Angus, was a Scot. He came to America as a small boy."

"Was?"

"Yes, he was killed almost two years ago at the battle of Perryville, in Kentucky."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"We hadn't been married all that long, but long enough for me to wish I had never married him at all."

"Why?"

"He was kind and gentle when we were courting. Then as soon as we were married, he changed. In the end, I became just a slave he didn't have to buy."

Kevin/Bart started to respond when he heard horses on the road.

"Someone's coming! Quickly, hand me my guns, and get back inside."

"I'll do it, but it's probably the sheriff bringing someone out to look at my property."

Kevin bucked on his belt and released the safety mechanism.

Kevin/Bart asked, "Why would he do that?"

Bonnie stepped back inside the house as she answered, "I'm behind in my taxes, and the money I borrowed from the bank for seed is coming due."

Three men were turning toward the house when Bart asked, "How much do you owe?"

"Almost a hundred and twenty dollars." she replied.

Bart stood with his cane in his right hand as the three men came up to the front fence. The one in front looked to be in his twenties. He was wearing black canvas pants, a black and white gingham shirt and a black felt slouch hat. A badge was pinned in the middle of left shirt pocket, and a 'hogleg' Colt was buckled on his hip. It was placed much too high for a speedy draw.

The other two men were much older, and rather fat. They both wore white pleated muslin shirts, under a frock coat and vest. These men probably would have called themselves investors, but after the war, men like these would be known as 'carpetbaggers'. In the time period that Kevin had left, they would be known on Wall Street as 'sharks' or 'raiders'. They weren't looking for land to work, only for land to steal. Turning the widows and families out into the cold did not faze them in the least. In Kevin's eyes, these men were the antithesis of everything good in mankind.

"Who might you be?" asked the one with a badge.

"Bartholomew Pierre Simpson."

"And where is Bonnie MacLean?"

"She's inside the house."

"Tell her to come outside. These men wan'a look at her prop'ty."

"It won't do them any good. It's not for sale."

"And why not?" asked one of the prospective buyers.

"Because I have already purchased it. Mademoiselle MacLean and I will be coming into town shortly to pay off her outstanding debts."

The Sheriff's deputy eased his gun hand down the side of his leg as he asked, "Why do you talk funny?"

"You also talk funny to me. However, to answer your question, I'm Canadian. At the same time, I would advise you to move your right hand back up on your saddle horn." Then, with a emphatic tone, Bart added, "You do not want to draw on me."

The deputy looked at the cold blue eyes staring at him and shuddered. Zeke Randall might have been a bully with a badge, but he wasn't totally stupid. He knew, without a doubt, that he had just looked into the eyes of death. He wanted no part of this man.

"Mr. Simpson, I'll be let'n th' Sheriff know you are a coming."

Bart replied, "Thank you, but would you hold a moment? Mademoiselle, do you have any means of conveyance we might use to journey into town?"

"Nothing but an old mule and a broken wagon," she answered through the door.

"Then, kind Sir," Bart said to the deputy, "if you would arrange for someone to drive out here and bring us into town, I will give you and the driver who picks us up, one of your country's five dollar gold pieces."

"Five dollars gold, just t'get somebody t'come out t'this here farm and brung you to town? If'n myself be a comin' t'get you, can I be havin' both pieces?"

"Certainly, Sir. I'm sure that Mademoiselle MacLean would feel safer if one of the local constabulary was with us to provide protection."

Confused by the big words, Zeke replied, "Okay. I'll prob'ly be back her' in an hour."

Bart was grinning as the three men rode off.

Bonnie came back onto the porch.

"Why did you do that?"

"What?"

"Tell them you're buying this place."

"Mademoiselle MacLean, we can work out the details later, but I could not let someone like those men steal your land."

"Are you going to try to claim me, too?"

"Mademoiselle, I am presently grieving over the loss of my own love. I have no personal designs or desires on you, or your body. I just see an opportunity to help you and to have you help me on my mission."

Relaxing, she said, "Then in that case, please call me Bonnie. Now, what do you have in mind?"

"As I stated earlier, over the next year or so, I will be traveling both north and south looking for stock that can help improve my family's herds. The area around Chicago is growing, as is Canada, and there will be an ever increasing need for beef. My family owns twenty sections of prairie, with plenty of water and no problems with Indians. We plan to produce the best cattle available to meet that growing need."

"Twenty sections! That's more than twelve thousand acres. Why would you want my little quarter section?"

"Because I need a convenient location to graze the stock I purchase, and I need people I can trust to look out for my interest while I'm traveling. I will provide you with a home, hired help and a steady income. In addition, unless I decide to stay in your country, I will give you back your land when I finish my task."

"Then, Bart Simpson, you've just bought my place."

"Excellent. Now, tell me what I've bought."

As he listened, he learned that over half of her land was uncultivated, with a lot of old growth timber. Unfortunately, it did not include the two small valleys, or the cave of stored supplies. When he mentioned them though, she shuddered.

"What's the problem, Bonnie?"

"That land is owned by the man who insists that I will marry him, or else. I can't prove it, but I think he's the one who stole my stock."

"Tell me about him."

"His name is Colin O'Brian, and he's the worst bully in the county. Even Zeke Randall, the deputy that is supposed to be coming back for us, is afraid of him. He beat his first wife to death, but claimed the she had been trampled by some horses. He's naturally mean all the time, but he's worse when he's been drinking and gambling, and when he gambles, he hates to lose.

"When that happens, he often accuses the winner of being a cheat. He'll goad the man into a fight, killing him when the man goes for his gun. Colin then takes the dead man's money, and the rest of the pot. I would rather kill myself than have to live with a man like that."

Angrily, Bart replied, "Bonnie, I doubt you'll have to worry about Mr. O'Brian much longer, as I suspect I'll be confronting the gentleman shortly. Now, who else around here is about to lose their property and needs help? Also, who are the good men... men we can hire to protect you and my property?"

Bonnie replied, "I'll need to think on that a spell. Right now, my head is in a whirl."

"Then put on your best dress and brush you hair. Our chariot should be arriving soon."

"Chariot? I thought he was coming in a wagon."

Bart grinned as he responded, "Just a figure of speech, fair Bonnie, just a figure of speech."

When Bonnie went back inside, her heart was beating a mile a minute. Yes, he used big fancy words, but he didn't put her down, not even once. He treated her as an equal, even though anybody could see that he was educated, and wealthy to boot. At this point, he might not be interested in her, but she was definitely beginning to set her sights on him.

While Bonnie was getting ready, Bart/Kevin decided to be extra cautious on this trip into town. Therefore, he opened his valise and removed the Walther from its hiding place. He loaded the clip with hollow points and placed it in a small pocket, sewn inside his boot. He also replaced the shell in his cane with a hollow point.

He had just finished rearranging everything when he heard the sounds of a horse and wheels coming up the road. It was Zeke Randall, and he was driving a two seat covered surrey. That would place him in front of Bart and Bonnie, putting himself at a definite disadvantage if he tried anything underhanded. Moments after he arrived, Bonnie came through the door looking like a vision of beauty.

Even Zeke sat up and took notice, saying, "My, Miss Bonnie, you 'sho' look lovely today."

"Zeke," she replied joyously, "today, Mr. Simpson has released me from my bondage and has made me a free woman."

Grinning, Zeke replied, "Not too 'free' I hope. Th' good women of Fairhope wouldn't be putten up with that."

"Why, Zeke Randall, er' you flirtin' with me?"

"Not so much flirtin', as sharing yer joy. Seein' what you've had to put up with for the past three years made me sad. 'Specially when I couldn't do anything about either yo' finances, or Colin O'Brian."

Bart interjected, "Speaking of finances, Deputy Randall, here is the five dollars I promised you for arranging this transportation, and here is the five dollars I promised for driving us to town."

As Bart and Bonnie climbed onto the rear seat, Zeke answered, "But, we ain't in town yet."

"I'm trusting you to get us there safely."

"You would trust me?"

"Deputy, you've looked into my eyes. Is there a reason I shouldn't trust you?"

Zeke felt 'the rabbit run over his grave' as the reality of that message sank in.

"No, Sir!" he answered.

Still feeling the lingering chill down his back, Zeke quickly flipped the reins across the horse's back, causing the animal to start out at a trot. The horse's quick acceleration pleased Zeke, as he was now anxious to get back into town.

He knew Colin was playing cards in the saloon. In addition, word of Bonnie's good fortune was spreading though the town like wildfire. By the time the three of them arrived in Fairhope, Colin O'Brian would be in a murderous rage, and for some unknown reason, Zeke was pulling for the young man who was sittin' behind him.



-------

Chapter 6

Back in Washington, General Scott had been given a temporary office in the FBI building until Project Gunslinger was no longer on the active board. He was sitting at his desk going over a report, when Special Agent Dwight Bowman knocked at his open door.

Malcolm Scott said,, "Good Morning, Dwight. Any word yet?"

"Not yet, but I really don't expect any for a while. Do you have a few minutes, I have something interesting to show you?"

"I'm just reviewing some speculative analysis of problems which might be generated by our insertion of Kevin into the past. It's nothing that won't wait."

"Good. Then come with me for a few minutes. It may even relate to what you're reading."

"Sure. Where are we going?"

"Just down the hall to one of the conference rooms."

"No problem. Lead the way."

Moments later, they entered a small conference room containing a large screen, high definition television.

Seeing the TV, Malcolm asks, "Dwight, does this have something to do with the Redskin's game yesterday?"

"Nope. Yesterday, I was watching the DVD Rick prepared while Kevin was training in Texas. I want you to see this."

Dwight hit the play button on the remote, and the two men watched Kevin go though a reaction course.

Puzzled, General Scott remarked, "Other than background scenery and popup targets, it looks about like it did when we first saw him shoot."

"At first, I thought so, too. Now, understand the rules Rick set up for this exercise required Kevin to re-holster his gun between each target."

A little frustrated, General Scott replied, "So? What about it?"

"Just be patient with me a moment. I think it will be worth your while."

Dwight made some adjustments with the remote and said, "In this next segment, Rick tried to pull a fast one by activating a new target when Kevin wasn't ready. Rick claimed it was to test Kevin's reaction to unplanned events."

Dwight resumed 'play', and the TV showed Kevin draw and shoot a target with his right hand. Then, as he was putting that gun in its holster, another target popped up. They could hardly believe their eyes when Kevin's cross draw gun was in his left hand, and he nailed the target.

Shaking his head in amazement at Kevin's reaction, Malcolm replied, "That was pretty remarkable, but something tells me this is leading somewhere."

"It is. I was so impressed when I first watched the scene on my computer, I brought it in here to view on the big screen. The thing that caught my interest was a blur on the screen. So I slowed it down, and this is what I saw."

Dwight ran the same scene at a slower speed. Though it was slow motion, there was still an unexplained blur on the screen.

"Okay, now you've tweaked my interest. At the slower speed, there is no way there should still be a blur on the screen."

"Good. We're on the same page. Now, watch and tell me what you see when I freeze the frame."

Dwight replayed the scene, but this time froze the replay at the exact moment of the blur.

"Dwight, the gun is moving to meet his hand. That's impossible."

"If I wasn't seeing it with my own eyes, I wouldn't believe it either. Because of that, I've been doing some additional research. This is a scene from the famous football game. Now, since this is tape, the picture won't be as clear as the DVD we saw from Texas. At the same time, I found it showed up rather well on the big screen."

Dwight selected another remote and hit play. The picture was in slow motion, and it showed Kevin dropping back to pass. The Dothan safety was blitzing from Kevin's blind side, and there were no blockers to protect the quarterback. Then, at the last instant, Kevin sidestepped the lunging safety, who went sprawling across the grass.

"Incredible. It looked like Kevin knew the safety was there."

"I know, and I'm coming to believe he did know. On some of his passes, I watched him hit a receiver he never even looked at. His eyes were focused elsewhere."

"Wow! What a career he could have had in the NFL."

"Agreed, but I have one more scene for you to see."

As Dwight forwarded the tape to a preset spot, he explained, "This was late in the fourth quarter, and Kevin's team was down by eleven. In this segment, it was third down, and a long eight. I'm going to show it first at normal speed."

On the screen, Kevin was dropping back to pass. Suddenly, one of the defensive lineman broke free, and ran at Kevin with his arms up in the air to try to deflect the pass. Instead of trying to throw over the lineman, Kevin pulled his arm down and threw the ball underhanded and underneath the lineman's outstretched arms. As a result, the pass was completed for a twelve-yard gain and a first down.

"Yeah, I remember that play. I thought it was one of the most outstanding 'adlibs' I've ever seen in a football game."

"Well, I think you will be more amazed when you see it again in slow motion. To spot what I want you to see, though, you must ignore everything else and keep your eyes focused on the ball."

Dwight made some adjustments, and the scene started again at the point where Kevin released the ball. In slow motion, the two men saw the ball move toward the intended receiver. When the ball was about four feet from the receiver's hands, it was obvious the pass could not be caught. Then, in the blink of an eye, the ball moved sideways six inches and fell into the receiver's outstretched hands.

A stunned General Scott asked, "Dwight, has anyone else seen this?"

"No, and I'm not sure if anyone should see it."

"I agree with you on that. Besides, what can they do now?"

"I don't know, but I don't want to give them an option. Do you think he knows what he's doing?"

Malcolm Scott slowly shook his head and answered, "I'm not really sure he consciously knows what he is doing. Otherwise he could have turned the game into a rout or caused the RPG to miss Mike's car. It must be something that has been there for a long time, maybe even since birth, and in his mind, it's just a involuntary mental 'gift'.

"At the same time, those headaches he has been having since the concussion may be the result of his strength increasing or new 'gifts' emerging. I have no way to prove it, but if it was increasing or being altered, he probably had some suspicions before he went back in time."

Nodding, Dwight exclaimed, "Malcolm, we had undeniable proof that ESP exists right in our hands, and we never saw it."

"I'm glad we didn't know it at the time. He's the perfect person to stop this assassination, but what will he do afterwards?"

The FBI Agent grinned as he replied, "If they don't burn him at the stake for being a witch, I would say he could do pretty much anything he wanted."

-------

On the way into town, Bart and Bonnie discussed her property, her situation and her immediate needs. In all of their discussion, Bart was vehement about Bonnie staying in town until her house was repaired or rebuilt.

Stubbornly frustrated, Bonnie asked, "But, if I stay in town, what will happen to my stock?"

Understanding her fear of change and of being dependent on a stranger, Bart softly asked, "Bonnie, what stock do you have?"

Realizing the weakness of her argument, the young widow sheepishly mumbled "The mule, a couple of goats and some chickens."

Bart sensed that she was beginning to waver so he simply said, "Bonnie, if the mule is really that important to you, we can bring him into town and board him at the stable. Otherwise, we can just turn him out to pasture. With plenty of grass and water, he should be fine. I would do the same thing with the goats. As for the chickens, I suggest that you find a needy family who can use them. We'll start over when we're ready."

Bonnie sat quietly beside Bart for several minutes. In her mind, she knew he was right. The problem was her fear, mixed with her fierce, but forced, independence. Deep inside, she knew that much of her fear was based upon her being deceived by Angus, hiding his true nature until after they were wed. This fear was heightened by his leaving her to go to war... a war from which he never returned.

Facing her fear for the first time, Bonnie thought, 'This is stupid. I hated Angus for deceiving me, and then I hate him for leaving me and getting killed. If he hadn't gone off to the war, eventually I might have killed him myself.'

Determining not to continue living in fear, Bonnie finally responded, "I suppose we should give away all of the stock. I've just had to scrape to get by for so long. I guess I don't know no other way to live."

In reassurance, Bart gently squeezed Bonnie's hand before saying, "I understand, Bonnie. Sometimes the unknown future is more frightening than a bleak and horrid present. Thing will get better, I promise you."

Bart looked up and could tell Zeke was listening, so he asked, "Zeke, tell me about this area's economy."

"I'm not sure what it tis you're asking."

"What kinds of jobs are here? Are there more jobs than people, or more people than jobs? And finally, what is the pay like?"

"I r'con I understand. Before th' war, most of the people in this here area twas small farmers, selling what little surplus they had to those who lived in town. Nowadays, most of the men folk who would be working those farms are victims of the war. Miss Bonnie isn't the only one who's 'bout to lose their place.

"As for jobs, they's some coal mines off to the east. 'Cause of the cave-ins, only fools or the desperates will take them jobs. Also, though no one will fess up to it, a bunch here are into smuggling."

Pausing a moment in thought, Zeke continued, "I really hadn't thought about it before, but our biggest problem is we have more people need'n jobs than there be jobs. I guess cause of that, wages are near to nothing. What you've already paid me is more than I's makin' in a month as a deputy."

Bart suddenly had an idea, but he had to think it through for a moment. From what he could tell, this man had a tendency to be a bully, and Bonnie had confirmed it. Yet, from the way Zeke had spoken about the women losing their farms, Bart could also sense compassion in the man. With this compassion and the caring way the deputy had addressed Bonnie, Bart decided he was willing to gamble on Zeke.

"Zeke, how would you like to make twelve dollars a month, plus food, shelter, and needed supplies?"

"Who do I need to kill?"

"Hopefully, no one. My second question is, could you take orders from a woman?"

"Miss Bonnie?"

"And maybe some others."

"Fer what yo's offering, I'd take orders from Colin O'Brian!"

"Speaking of Mr. O'Brian, could you stand up to him if you had to?"

"I can't out gun him, but get me one of those new Henry's, and I'll take him out, one way or the other."

Bonnie could not believe her ears. This man had been a bully for most of his life. In addition, he had worked hard to make her husband's life miserable. Now, Bart was talking about hiring Zeke and having him take orders from her. Earlier, she had really respected Bart, but now she was afraid she had made another mistake. Had she ended up with another cruel master?

Bart responded, "Zeke, I don't have a problem with getting you a Henry rifle, but I want you to defend Miss Bonnie and my property, not murder the man."

Bonnie's confusion and insecurity suddenly flashed forth in anger, and she snarled, "Are you considering me your property?"

"No, Bonnie. That's exactly why I separated the words in the sentence. Land, buildings and livestock are property. People are not property, not even wives to their husbands. I'm talking about freedom from fear, not a new form of slavery."

Bart paused a moment before continuing, "You know, It amazes me how you people of the North could send thousands of young men to die to free men who had been made slaves because of the color of their skin. Yet, at the same time, it is perfectly alright to make a wife effectively a slave, just because of their sex. It sounds rather hypocritical to me."

Bart could see the anger drain away from Bonnie's face, but at the same time he saw Zeke stiffen and the back of his neck turn red.

"Do you have a problem with that, Zeke?"

"Just 'barrassed it took someone from another country to sho' it to me. Th' problem is we'un neva questioned it, it was 'that's just the way things've always been'. We neva' questioned if'n it was right or wrong."

"Don't you think those you call 'Johnny Rebs' felt the same way about slavery? Remember, there have been slaves in this country, and especially in the south, for more than a hundred years before this nation rebelled against England. For them, 'it was just the way things were'.

The shaken deputy responded, "Neva thought 'bout it that way."

"Now, back to my question, can you defend Miss Bonnie against Mr. O'Brian?"

"I'm not sure it will matter, but I will do my best. Can I get some help?"

"Most likely. I plan on hiring several men to help, but they will not receive as much pay as you. I'm looking for you to be the foreman, so you will have more responsibility, and a higher pay rate to go along with it. Now, what did you mean when you said, it probably doesn't matter?"

"Colin's in town, drinking and gambling. I figure by now he's heard you've bought Miss Bonnie's place and he'll be 'madder than a wet hen'."

An angry Bart said accusingly, "And you were going to let me go into town unsuspecting and get myself shot?"

"No, Sir! I just weren't sure when and how to tell you. They's two reasons to know I'm supporting you in this. First, by coming back to drive you to town, Colin will know I was taking your side in this fight. Second, I'd never've promised to work for you and Miss Bonnie if'n I figured you'd be dead tomorrow."

Bart relaxed and rubbed his chin in thought. For a moment, he became distracted when he felt the small imperial beard placed vertically below his lower lip. That beard and a mustache were part of the identity he had designed, but it had not had time to be fully developed. Therefore, what he had at the moment was enhanced by theatrical make-up.

"Okay, Zeke. I'll accept that. Bonnie, do you have any problems with this?"

"I was fearful at first, 'cause Zeke was always goading my husband. Now, I understand what you're trying to do, so I'm willing t'give him a chance."

Cautious about expressing too much of his real feelings, Zeke replied, "Miss Bonnie, I despised your late husband for a lot of reasons. I put those away when you married, but later it angered me 'cause of how he treated you. I'm not saying it should be me, but you deserved better. Someone like Mr. Simpson here."

This statement stunned and confused Bonnie, but it pleased Bart very much. What was more important, it confirmed his judgment of the man. Zeke would definitely fit into Bart's long-range plans. Therefore, satisfied with the way things were progressing, Bart pulled a tri-fold wallet from the inside of his black town coat and removed four, one hundred dollar bills.

"Bonnie, I want you to take this and pay off your loan and the taxes. Make sure you get receipts. Then, get a deed prepared and recorded in my name. Here is one of my cards to help get the deed properly prepared. When you finish, get us rooms at the hotel and then go shopping for some new dresses and such."

Bart continued, "Zeke, if the general store has one, get yourself a Henry rifle, as well as ammunition. In fact, if they have enough, get three. Bonnie will pay for what you get."

As Bonnie stared at more money than she could have ever imagined, Bart said, "Zeke, you need to resign at the sheriff's office and from that point on, stay close to Bonnie. I'm depending on you to protect her, as well as my money."

"I'll do my best."

Pleased, Bart replied, "That's all I can ask."

Bonnie asked, "And what are your plans?"

"I'm going to the saloon and observe Mr. O'Brian. I might even play a little poker."

Frightened for her new friend, she cried, "But he'll try to call you a cheat and draw on you."

"I hope so, Bonnie. I hope so."

-------

It was late afternoon in the town of Fairhope, Ohio. In the general store, several ladies were trying to finish their shopping so they could return home and begin the evening meal. At the livery stable, the blacksmith was haggling with a man who was trying to sell him a small herd of horses with Confederate brands.

The Sheriff and Willard, the bank president, were in their respective offices, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the man who had purchased the MacLean place. Neither had really wanted to foreclose on the property, but the debt was delinquent, and young Bonnie did not seem to be able to earn enough from the place to pay off her debts. For each of them, getting the delinquency off the books would relieve a lot of emotional and financial stress.

In the saloon, there were a couple of men at the bar, but most were watching the five men at the poker table. Colin O'Brian was winning for a change, as was the stranger who sat across from him. As a result, Colin was in a pretty good mood. That was until he heard someone mention Bonnie MacLean.

"Jed," Colin shouted, "what were you saying about Bonnie MacLean?"

"Zeke brought back the prospective buyers and told the sheriff and Willard, that someone had purchased the place. He also said Bonnie and the new owner were bringing in the money this afternoon to pay off her debts."

"And where is Zeke?"

"Don't rightly know. After he informed Sheriff Jackson and Willard 'bout the sale, he rented a surrey at the livery stable. He ain't been seen since."

A fuming Colin announced, "Well, ain't this just grand. I'm having a good day, and then something like this happens. I guess I'll just have to convince this interloper that Bonnie and her land are mine!"

-------

As the surrey approached town, Bart had Zeke stop a few doors from the saloon. With Zeke's help, he carefully climbed down and up onto the side walk.

"Zeke, I want you to bypass the saloon and go directly to the Sheriff's office. From there, you'll need to take Bonnie to the bank."

"Twon't be a problem, Boss. It's right 'cross th' street from th' Sheriff's Office.

Then, while Zeke turned the surrey around in the street and headed for an alley behind the buildings, Bart used his cane to work his way up the sidewalk toward the saloon. He paused a moment and took his pistols off of 'safety'.

Finally, just outside the saloon's door, Bart took a deep breath to calm himself. After centering his focus, the young man slowly entered what was likely the arena of his next conflict. Once inside, he took a brief look around and hobbled over to an empty table near to the table where five men were playing poker.

He had hardly sat down when he was approached by the bartender. It must have been too early for the women who typically worked in such places hustling drinks... as well as other things.

"What can I get you, stranger?"

Pointing to the bar, Bart asked, "You got any real Kentucky Bourbon back there?"

"You're not some Reb are you?"

"Actually, I'm from Canada, but believe it or not, my Scottish father loves Kentucky Bourbon. I guess I learned the pleasurable taste from him."

"Well, not many people can afford it around here right now. It's a dollar a glass, while whiskey is only ten cents."

Pulling a silver dollar from his coat pocket, Bart laid it on the table.

Smiling, the bartender said, "I'll be right back."

"That's fine, but just remember, I know what good Kentucky Bourbon tastes like."

The bartender headed for the back room and brought out a bottle covered in dust. He wiped it off, and poured a small shot glass full of the rich amber liquid. He carefully put the bottle under the bar and brought the glass to Bart.

After sniffing, and then tasting his drink, Bart smiled and said, "Very good, Sir. Would you please pour any of my future drinks from that same bottle?"

Realizing he was going to finally sell the stuff, the bartender happily said, "I'll be sure to do just that."

A large red haired man at the poker table yelled, "Jerry, bring me another bottle. My friends here have helped me drink too much of this one."

"Sure, Colin. I'll be right there."

'Well, ' thought Bart, 'now I know what Colin O'Brian looks like.'

Over the next few minutes, Bart observed the action at the next table. He could see the faces of everyone at the table except for the man directly in front of him. At the same time, because the man was facing the other direction, Bart could clearly see the man's cards. As a result, it did not take Bart long to realize something funny was going on.

Several times, the man had helped increase the size of the pot, yet had folded while holding what would have been the winning hand. As Bart watch carefully, he spotted many signs of cheating, but the way this man and Colin were almost alternating winning the larger pots, it was harder for others to spot the cheating. After all, who would suspect the man who loses to be cheating.

Bart finished his drink and used his cane to hobble outside. He walked to the next building where he almost bumped into an teenaged boy.

"Young man, would you like to earn ten cents?"

Smiling, the young man answered, "Yes, Sir. What do you need me to do?"

"Bring the Sheriff here to see me. Here's the pay for your errand."

A few minutes later, the young man returned with a man who appeared to be in his early fifties.

"Do you know who I am, Sheriff?"

"I suspect you're the one who cost me a deputy."

"I'm sorry about that."

"Don't be. I think it will be good for him, and I like the idea of using him to protect Miss Bonnie. He's been in love with her for years."

"I thought he might be, listening to him talk on the way here."

"Mr. Simpson, I suspect you have more on your mind than a social call."

"There's a crooked game going on in the saloon. I thought you would want to know."

"Yes, I would. What have you seen?"

"First, the man sitting with his back to my table is marking the cards with his ring, as well as dealing seconds and even thirds. In addition, he and a man named Colin have some sort of scam going. One or the other will help run up the pot and then fold, even when they have the stronger hand. If the scam works like some I've seen in Chicago, then when the game's over the two men will split the winnings."

The Sheriff's frightened face told Bart the true story. Though he might be a good man, he was frightened of Colin O'Brian.

"Colin, you said. Are you sure?"

"Very sure, and this has nothing to do with Bonnie. I don't like 'cardsharps' and the regular people in this town can't afford to be cheated, as eventually they will have to sell their land cheap to these same men. I know Colin's reputation, so I'm not asking you to take him on, only back me up and make sure no one can claim I did anything illegal."

"Son, Colin will kill you."

"Not unless someone shoots me in the back."

"Okay, Son. If you're that confident, I'll back your play. What do you want to me to do?"

"First we need to get the gentleman in the gray vest out of there. He's too drunk and is losing a lot. Once you get him out of there, I'll try to take his place. After you get the man home, find Zeke and have him bring me the deed to Bonnie's place. I want him to announce his delivery of the deed in front of everyone in the saloon. That should make me the center of Colin's ire."

"It will do that. What else?"

"Slip into the back of the saloon and stay in the shadows. Most of all, just be prepared. I'm going to 'gut' the two cheats and then goad Colin to draw. I understand that's how he plays this game."

"Yes. He's killed at least six men in the past two years. He accuses them of cheating, and when they go for their gun, he kills them and takes the pot and their winnings. The problem is that all the witnesses claim the other man started to go for his gun first."

"Well, today, let's hope the story will have a different ending."

Bart slowly returned to his table in the saloon, exaggerating his limited mobility. Truth be known, except for endurance and flexibility issues, his foot was almost completely well. In addition, the headaches he had been having earlier had pretty much stopped. He had already seen that some of his 'gifts' had been enhanced, and he was sure it was related to his concussion.

Moments after sitting down, the bartender came over to see if Bart wanted another drink. In response, Bart smiled and pulled out another dollar, placing it on the table.

The bartender was returning with Bart's drink when the Sheriff came through the door. Looking around the saloon, Sheriff Jackson finally walked over to the table where the men were playing poker.

"Lamar, your wife sent word that you need to head home."

Slurring his words, the man answered, "Sheriff, I've lost too much to quit now. I've got to win some of it back."

"Lamar, that is the most convoluted logic I've ever heard, and as much as you've had to drink, I can't see you doing any better. Now, come on. Let me help you get home, while you have a home to go to."

The man whose back was to Bart said, "Sheriff, you can't force a man to stop playing and go home."

"No, but if I have to, I'll arrest him for public drunkenness. He has no business being in this game in the shape he's in."

The Sheriff helped the drunken man stand and gather what money he still had. The Sheriff then guided the man out the door and down the street.

Looking around the room, Colin focused on Bart and asked, "How about you, stranger? Want to take his place in a friendly game?"

"Sure, why not."

Bart stood with his cane in his right hand and his drink in his left. He then hobbled over to sit in the empty chair, a chair which placed his back to the wall. Bart removed his wallet from his coat and extracted a couple of hundreds. To the bills, he added some of the gold and silver coins that had been in his coat pocket. The amount of money he placed on the table immediately got everyone's attention.

Finally situated, he looked up at the face of the one man he hadn't seen... the one who was linked with Colin in this scam. He grinned when he realized that the other man he was going to gut was none other than Dr. Albert Rosen, late of Georgetown University.

The men around the table all introduced themselves, with Dr. Rosen claiming to be Ross Albertson.

Bart looked Dr. Rosen in the eye and announced, "And my name is Bartholomew Pierre Simpson, but most people call me Bart."

Dr. Rosen's eyebrows furrowed for a brief moment, wondering if this young man's name was a coincidence, or something more sinister. Remembering he had been told they were using the last of the rare material to transport him, he relaxed. After all, Bart Simpson couldn't have been that unusual of a name.

With the introductions made and the rules clarified, the game resumed. Bart was even able to win the first pot. They had played several hands before Bart saw the sheriff slip into the back door. Moments later, Zeke entered, carrying some papers in an envelope.

"Mr. Simpson, here's the deed and receipts on Miss Bonnie's place. Do you want to make sure they's correct?"

Ignoring the angry red face of Colin O'Brian, Bart took his cue from Zeke's statement. He opened the envelope, and among the deeds and receipts was a note from Bonnie. It said she was safe and wished him luck. He nodded, put everything back in the envelope and placed in the same inside coat pocket as his wallet. Looking up to resume the game, he continued to ignore the raging Mr. O'Brian.

Finally, unable to stand it any longer, Colin said, "Did you know I've been trying to get my hands on that property for a couple of years? Ever since Angus MacLean was killed."

"Really, I can't imagine why you had trouble buying it. Bonnie and I came to a deal in just a few minutes."

The knowledge that this Simpson had something he wanted badly, as well as the young man's casual attitude, just inflamed Colin that much more. Sensing trouble, one of the players left after the next hand. He'd seen Colin kill before, and he wanted no part of this.

A couple of hands later, it was Dr. Rosen's deal. Bart had picked up some signals between Rosen and Colin, so he was prepared for what happened. Rosen did a marvelous job of stacking the deck. Colin was dealt two aces, while Bart was supposed to get two pair, Kings and tens. Using some slight of hand and his powers, he actually had four hearts, queen high.

Dr. Rosen and another player folded, leaving Bart and Colin to battle it out. This conveniently removed the dealer from any obvious involvement.

The two men bet heavily before the discard. Then on the draw, Colin received his planned third ace, while unknown to the two cheats, Bart received his fifth heart. In addition, since he knew the cards were marked, Bart kept his cards in a neat stack in front of himself. Therefore, anyone who could read the marked cards could only see that the hand contained the eight of hearts; the card Rosen intended to go with Bart's two pair.

Again, the bidding went back and forth as Colin and his partner had intended. They had supposedly given Bart a very strong hand, but with Colin's hand being stronger. Since it appeared that the 'script' was being followed, Colin naturally kept raising the pot and neither man seemed willing to call. Finally, Colin was tapped out and could not meet Bart's raise.

"Mr. Simpson, it seems you have me at a slight disadvantage. I'll agree to put up my half section of property, if you will match it with the property you just purchased."

Bart appeared deep in thought, before he finally agreed to the bet and placed the deed on the top of the pot. Colin got a pen and paper from the bartender and made a simple quitclaim deed, leaving a blank in the place where Bart's name would normally be placed. As he did this, a man seemed to edge closer to Bart's right side. Suddenly, Bart had a good idea of how Colin had successfully outdrawn so many people.

Colin finished writing the quitclaim deed he never expected to be used, and after placing it with Bart's, he said, "Pot's right. I call."

Both Colin and Rosen's face went ashen when Bart laid down a Queen high heart flush.

Standing quickly, Colin screamed, "You cheated!"

Bart also stood, this time leaving his cane on the floor.

In response to Colin's accusation, Bart asked, "How could I have cheated? I didn't deal the cards, and I never touched mine after my first look. There are no cards on the floor, in my pockets or up my sleeve."

Losing it in his anger, Colin said, "But those ain't the cards you were dealt!"

Smiling at Colin's angry mistake, Bart replied, "Mr. O'Brian, the only way you would know what cards I had been dealt would be if you and your partner planned it that way. The ones who have been cheating all night have been you and your partner."

This was more than Colin could take, and he reached for his gun. As Bart moved his right hand in response, the man next to him grabbed his sleeve for a moment. It should have been sufficient to give Colin the edge, but Bart was prepared and used his left hand with his cross draw holster. Colin was dead before his own pistol was half out of its holster.

In reaction, Rosen reached for his gun. It was not the smartest move he had ever made.

As a result, the last thing he heard on this Earth, was Bart's soft whisper, "Goodbye, Dr. Rosen."



-------

Chapter 7


The entire saloon was in an uproar. Then things got even crazier when Bart turned his pistol toward the man who had tried to hold his sleeve.

Bart yelled above the crowd's noise, "Sheriff, arrest this man for attempted murder."

Confused, Sheriff Cecil Jackson asked, "What did Andrew do?"

"He tried to hold my right sleeve when Colin went for his gun. It should have slowed me down enough to allow O'Brian to win, but I used my left hand instead."

The man screamed, "He's lying! I've done no such thing."

Jerry, the bartender, interjected, "I didn't realize what he was doing at the time, but I saw him make a strange movement while Colin was drawing. Now that I think about it, Andrew was standing beside this table every time Colin out gunned someone. He must have been involved in all of them."

"Hang him!" someone screamed.

Sheriff Jackson responded, "He'll get a fair trial. Then, we'll hang him."

Bart shook his head and chuckled at the Sheriff's idea of 'justice'.

"Gentleman!" Bart shouted. "There's more here than the shooting. Less than an hour ago, I informed the Sheriff these men were cheating. Now, I can't do anything about past losses, but anyone who lost money today needs to tell the Sheriff how much was lost. If he and the bartender agree that the amount is reasonably accurate, I'll see you get your money back."

Everyone, including the Sheriff, was stunned at this announcement. While the others could not believe their ears, Bart was inwardly pleased. He knew it was not only the right thing to do, it would also quickly make him a respected and honored member of their community.

One of the men at the bar asked, "Can you show us how they were cheating?"

Bart replied, "They were actually cheating in several ways. The most important one was that O'Brian's partner was using his ring to mark the cards. They were also using each other to increase the pot size. When I first came in here, I saw this man fold several times when he had the winning hand. It puzzled me until I realized they were playing as partners, expecting to split their winnings. Finally, on this last hand, they tried to stack the deck, but I had a way to counter it."

One man asked skeptically, "Are you sure they were marking the deck?"

Bart picked up the cards from the table and held them face down in his hand.

Looking at the back of the top card, he said, "Queen of clubs," and turned over the queen of clubs.

On the next card, he said, "Eight of spades", and turned over the eight of spades.

"Do I need to keep going?" he asked.

"No," replied the smiling man, "but remind me to never play poker with you."

"Sir, I enjoy the game, but the only time you'll ever see me play for more than a few dollars is to take down scum like this. Now, I need to head to the hotel and freshen up for dinner. I suspect Bonnie will be a nervous wreck until she knows I'm okay."

Another man asked, "Is she your woman, now?"

"Not by my design or intention. She's a nice person who gave me water when I was thirsty, and let me rest my leg when I was tired. What we have is a situation where I've helped her financially, and she will be helping me by managing my affairs when I'm not around. Beyond that, she is free to see whomever she wishes. I have hired Zeke Randall as our foreman, and part of his job will be to protect her while I'm gone. Protection, in this case, means to see no one hurts her or makes advances she does not want. It does not mean she's my property."

Before any more questions could be asked, Bart used his cane to move cautiously outside the saloon. Zeke followed right behind.

As they headed up the street toward the hotel, Zeke said, "I'm right glad I didn't draw on you at Miss Bonnie's house. I've never seen someone so fast, especially with their left hand."

"Zeke, do you know what's funny?"

"What?"

"Using a gun is about the only thing I can do with my left hand."

"That is strange."

"I agree. Now, how did everything go?"

"It went good. We even bought a small herd of horses. Bonnie got some new clothes... I've never seen her so excited."

Bart nodded and asked, "And how about Zeke Randall?"

"Mr. Simpson, I ain't never felt this good. It's like something I's born to do. Does that make sense to you?"

"Zeke, it makes very good sense, and by the way, please call me Bart. You're older than I am."

"Can't do that 'cause you're the 'Bossman'. 'sides, I respect you too much. It just wouldn't feel right."

Bart smiled and said, "Okay, I'll accept your reasoning. Now, before we talk to Bonnie, what's the fastest way to get to Chicago? I need to take care of some fairly urgent family business, but I'll be coming back."

"Don't rightly know, but the Sheriff would. If it'll help, we do have a telegraph office here."

"How close are we to a railroad?"

"Chillicothe's most of a four day ride. Huntington's less than a day's ride, but the railroad there heads southwest."

"Bart!" came a scream from the distance.

Looking up, Bart saw a vision of beauty wearing a blue dress with matching blue bows in her hair. She was running out of the hotel and straight toward them. From five feet away, the young woman launched herself into his arms.

With a grin, Zeke remarked, "Well, you said in th' saloon she was free to choose her man. I think she's chosen."

Holding Bonnie in his arms, Bart asked Zeke, "Are you alright with that choice?"

"Boss, I will always love her, but I could never be the man she needs. I'm satisfied in my role as foreman and protector."

Picking up on what Zeke said, Bonnie asked, "You love me?"

"Since the first time I laid eyes on you. But you deserve better than me. I'll be happy just being close by and seeing you happy."

Still hugging Bart, she reached her other arm around Zeke and pulled him close. She reached up and gave him a small kiss on his cheek.

"Zeke," she said, "If'n you stop being a bully and learn how t' treat a woman like Bart does, the women 'll beat a path t' your door."

The three continued into the hotel, and Bart was surprised to see how nice it was for such a small town that was 'off the beaten path'. From the desk clerk, he learned that the hotel had been built primarily as an investment by several of the mine owners. They believed the mines and a planned railroad line and bridge across the Ohio River would eventually turn this into a thriving town. They had also wanted a good place to stay for themselves, or to bring guests.

Bart was even more pleased when he learned the hotel not only had a nice restaurant, but it also had hot baths. There was even someone who could clean the dust off his clothes. Needless to say, he felt much better when the three of them entered the restaurant a short time later.

Bonnie looked across the table and into Bart's blue eyes. She could feel her heart turn to putty as she realized how quickly she was falling for him. Her biggest fear was that he wouldn't feel the same about her.

After they had ordered their meal, Bonnie said, "Bart, Zeke told me what was supposed to happen at the saloon. I heard the shots, and I almost fainted I was so frightened. Now, I learn you've set me free again, not only from Colin, but to choose the man who is special to me... the man I want to marry and give children. I know I'm not supposed to be the one to say these things, but I've chosen you, if you'll have me."

Bart was immediately flooded with mixed emotions. She was truly a beautiful woman, and from what he could see, her beauty was much deeper than her skin. At the same time, he had not really gotten over the death of Jennifer, or his father.

Finally, with tears running down his cheeks, Bart answered, "Mademoiselle, you honor me with your choosing, and I'm not rejecting you or your offer. Unfortunately, I must first deal with my current loss before I can give you the response that you deserve."

Bonnie was surprised at Bart's answer, as well as his tears. It was most unusual for a man to cry, especially in public, as it was seen as a weakness. She had already determined that this young man was anything but weak.

In addition, a man would seldom decline such an offer from a woman. It could have been interpreted as a slap on the face, yet because of Bart's reaction, she knew that he meant it when he said his answer was not a rejection.

Bonnie reached out and gently placed her hand over Bart's and asked softly and compassionately, "You spoke at my place that you'd lost the woman you were to marry. Had you known her very long, and what happened?"

Fighting through his tears, Bart answered, "Jennifer and I had known each other most of our lives. When she was ten years old, I had to go to Europe with my father. Before I left, she announced to both our families that one day we would be married. When I returned, she was waiting for me as if I had just gone away for a weekend, not four years. Our plans had been to get married late in the spring, but she died in the same incident that damaged my foot."

"So it was an accident?"

"No, Bonnie. It was no accident. The person who did this may or may not have intended her death, but she was murdered."

Gazing into Bart's misty blue eyes, Bonnie squeezed the hand she held and said, "Oh my! Bart, please forgive me for opening up such a wound."

Squeezing back, Bart responded, "Bonnie, there's nothing to forgive. You didn't know. Besides, I really do care for you, and your offer will force me to work through my emotions, not bury them like I did when my mother died. Therefore, while I am trying to deal with my loss, you and I can get to know one another as we work to establish our operation here in Fair Hope. At the moment, we might not be united in marriage, but we will be united in business."

Zeke had been listening to Bonnie and Bart's conversation, and he too had been surprised to see the tears on Bart's face. In addition, like Bonnie, he felt his new friend's loss and knew intuitively that this show of emotion was not a sign of weakness. If anything, it made him feel closer to this stranger who had turned his life upside down.

Finally, during the lull following Bart's statement, Zeke asked, "If'n she was murdered, why aren't you after those that did it?"

"In a way, I am. That's part of what this trip is all about, as it was known that the border area was their general destination. I'm hoping that this trip to Chicago will help put me on their trail."

Bonnie exclaimed, "Chicago?"

"Yes, I'm to meet my father there in a few days. In addition to learning what he and the family have discovered, I will also bring him up to date on what is going on here, including my relationship with you. I will also begin to make arrangements for the future of our business ventures."

Frightened that he might not be coming back, Bonnie pleaded, "Can I go with you?"

"Not that I don't want you to meet him, but I don't think it should be this trip. Besides, I have an abundance of things here that need to be done before I return, and for the moment, I only have you and Zeke to carry them out."

Delighted to hear that he planned to return, she asked, "Like what?"

"Tomorrow morning, I'm going to put ten thousand dollars in a bank account for our operation. I will be giving you the ability to draw on those funds as needed."

A stunned Bonnie and Zeke both exclaimed, "Ten thousand dollars!"

The approaching Sheriff overhead Bart's statement and interjected, "Actually, it will probably be much larger than that. Colin's partner, had more than twenty-five thousand dollars on him in a money belt and in his boot. There was also more than five thousand plus the deeds in the pot. I took out a hundred to give to Lamar's wife, but the town has decided the rest should be yours."

A surprised Bart replied, "Then I must say a 'thank you', to you, and to the town. It will definitely provide a good start for what I intend to do here. By the way Sheriff, do you know where Colin's partner was staying?"

"In Mrs. Benson's rooming house. Why?"

"We should probably clear out his room for her. I suspect we will find even more there."

"It sounds like you knew this man."

"We had never met, but when I finally saw his face, I knew who, and what he was. I buried his last victim."

"Son, you're full of surprises. Do you know if the man had any relatives?"

"No one we would ever find. Besides all the money he would have had was stolen from my associate."

"Thanks for the information. I'll head to Mrs. Benson's now. I'll have his effects brought to you to dispose of as you see fit."

"That's good Sheriff, but go over his room carefully. He may have hidden things behind something or beneath some boards. I know my associate was carrying more than a hundred thousand in gold and greenbacks."

This knowledge definitely got Sheriff Jackson's attention, and he left with a determined look. He was an honest sheriff, and the men he had helping him on this were basically honest, but that much money would be a great source of temptation, even to him.

After the sheriff left, Bart turned his attention back to his stunned dinner partners and said, "Zeke, you also will need to buy things, but understand that Bonnie controls the purse strings, especially while I'm gone. Just tell her what you need and why. If she agrees, she'll provide you the money."

A frightened Bonnie exclaimed, "You would trust me with that much money!"

Bart smiled at the beautiful girl sitting across the table from him and answered, "Of course. If I didn't, I wouldn't have placed you in that position, nor would I be considering the idea of marrying you."

Listening to the conversation, Zeke got a glimpse of Bart's personality that shook him to the core. If Bart considered you a friend or a partner, the trust that went with it was almost more than Zeke could imagine. Then, as he thought about the trust, he also realized the awesome responsibility that went with it.

At that moment, Zeke vowed to himself that he would never betray that trust. Not because he feared Bart's guns, but because he feared the loss of the developing friendship and the elation he felt at being deemed trustworthy by this man.

Zeke turned his thoughts back to his friends and asked Bart, "What am I to be purchasing?"

"I want us to buy up all the land we can, but I don't want to force anyone off their place unless they're just deadbeats. This means the families that stay will work for us, with most of them helping to care for the crops and livestock on their land. A part of our arrangement with these people is that we'll repair or upgrade their homes and see that their basic needs are met. We also need to hire people to work in the new saw mills we will build, as well as to build fences, homes, barns and to watch out for our stock."

Zeke asked, "How much land do you hope to buy?"

"Zeke, my family has twenty sections in Canada. Though the land up there is better, the growing season is much shorter than here, and the winters are long and bitter. I want to get all that we can, because I think we can make a strong economic impact in this area."

A stunned Zeke cried, "Twenty sections! Can we get that much land, and how could we manage it?"

"Actually, we don't have to get that much land. I doubt it'd be available anyway. What I was trying to do was give an example of how big it could be."

"Oh."

Bart added, "Now, the most important thing we need to do is to move quickly and quietly. This will keep speculators from inflating the price. Beyond that, we must do this with integrity and compassion. I want to build something special here, but I also want to help people, not hurt them. Am I being clear?"

"Yes, Sir. Treat 'em like I'd treat Miss Bonnie, or my sister."

Bart smiled at how Zeke was proving he had been right about giving Zeke a chance.

"That's right," Bart affirmed Zeke's comment. "Also, you need to remember that you're with us from the beginning of our venture... If we three do this correctly, you will eventually be more wealthy than you can imagine."

Squeezing Zeke's hand, Bonnie added, "And that wealth will be more than money. It will include friendship, respect, a good wife, and peace of mind."

"Miss Bonnie. I like the sound of that."

Bonnie turned to Bart and asked, "Besides trying to buy up all the land we can, what else do we need to do while you're gone?"

Bart answered, "Zeke, you need to immediately hire some men to act as roving patrols protecting the property we're buying. You also need to secure Colin's property and make sure there is nothing left to steal. What's his place like?"

"It's probably in better shape than most around here."

"Good. If that's the case, I want you to get it fixed up and remove all of Colin's personal belongings. Give them to any family he has here, or to those in need who can use them. Finally, after having it thoroughly cleaned, move Bonnie in there, at least for now."

Bonnie interjected, "Colin always claimed I'd be living in his house. I guess he never thought I'd be doin' it this way."

Bart grinned for the first time "I don't imagine he would."

"And what am I to do?" asked Bonnie.

"Look beautiful."

"Bart, I'm serious."

"I know, but I like to jerk your chain every once in a while."

"Jerk my chain?"

"Tease you."

"Okay, I can live with that."

"Good. Now, what I really want you to do is talk to the widows. Let's take care of them first, and help them understand we're not trying to steal their land. What I propose is we pay off their back taxes and mortgages, as well as giving them some money for their land. Also tell those who want to stay and work for us, they will receive a regular income, a place to live and a garden to grow their own vegetables."

Bonnie looked lovingly into Bart's blue eyes and said, "I think that's fair, and a lot better than most are expecting to happen to their homes. How much money should we give them?"

"I think we should give them a hundred dollars a quarter section above paying off their debts. For those who want to leave, we can give them two hundred, since we won't have to provide homes for them. Does that seem right to you?"

Bonnie replied, "Definitely. Right now, a hundred dollars is more money than they can even imagine."

Zeke remarked, "Y'er right 'bout that. Most of 'em wouldn't see that much money in ten years."

A thoughtful Bonnie said, "Bart, can I change the subject a moment?"

"Sure, what's on your mind?"

"I thought about all these widows suddenly having all that money. Like me, most of them have had to do without so long, their list of needs will be a mile long. When they start using the money to take care of those needs, business in this town will be booming. Can I buy or invest in some of those businesses?"

Impressed with Bonnie's wisdom and insight, Bart answered, "I think it's a very good idea. The businesses I'm not interested in would be the bank, the undertaker or the saloon. A nice millinery and seamstress shop would be a good idea. What about the general store?"

Zeke answered, "Sam's gettin' old and he's of'en out of things. He's sold a lot on credit, too. Most likely a lot of it'll ne'r get paid back. I 'spect he'd love to sell out."

Bonnie added, "In addition, the lot next door to it, is available. If we wanted to, we could use it to expand the store."

Bart nodded thoughtfully and said, "Bonnie, if you and Sam can come to an agreement, go ahead and make the deal. As soon as you've got everything on paper and signed, immediately start ordering things he's missing or where his stock is low. I want you also to order things you think we should carry."

A panicked Bonnie responded, "But, I don't know what to order!"

Bart softly reassured her, saying, "Bonnie, I'm sure Sam would be glad to help you get started. Just bat those beautiful eyes at him, and he'll be like a puppy dog. As for new items, I would suggest you talk to some of the other women, as well as some of the salesmen. Find out what your customers want, and then try to make sure you keep it in stock."

Zeke laughed and said, "That'll be somethin' different. Stocking what th' customer wants; why these people ain't gonna know what t' think o' that."

Bonnie nodded and said, "That's the truth. I don't think I've seen anything new in that store in five, maybe six years."

"Then, when you negotiate with him, use that as a point to show him his inventory is overvalued. What you're saying emphasizes that we need something better in this area. Bonnie, if he won't sell, then we'll just have to start our own store."

Finally able to express her underlying fear, Bonnie said, "Bart, I'm afraid I'll let you down. I don't know anything about running a store."

"Sweetheart, I suggest we hire several of the widows to help run the place, as well as at least one strong young man to help handle heavy items. We'll give them guidance, but neither of us will be running the day-to-day operations. Now, are there any empty stores available?"

Bonnie immediately picked up on Bart's term of endearment, and it deeply touched her heart. In her mind, she thought, 'Mrs. Bart Simpson, I like the sound of that.'

While Bonnie was daydreaming, Zeke replied, "They's two 'cross th' street from th' general store."

"Bonnie, you need to purchase them, if you can, or at least rent them. Set the smaller up as a gun shop and move all the guns and ammunition from the general store. The extra space should enable us to bring in more canned goods and supplies. I want to set up the other store as a 'consignment shop'."

Stunned back into reality, Bonnie asked, "What's a consignment shop?"

"Where people who have things they no longer need, or that they've made, can bring them for us to display and sell for them. We charge the seller a small fee, but only if the item sells. We will have to keep up with each item, who owns it and how much it sold for, but we can benefit the community and create a couple more jobs."

Zeke looked puzzled, "But why couldn't the people just sell their items outright and not have to pay us a commission?"

Bonnie responded, "They could, but they would first have t' find a buyer. Bart's idea is a store where buyers can browse, and buy things they might not even know were available. This could also include clothes which have been outgrown, or homemade goods like quilts."

Amazed at her grasp of the idea and its implications, Bart was becoming more and more impressed with this woman. He could see her blossoming right before his eyes. Still thinking about Bonnie, Bart felt the presence of the Sheriff as he came through the door.

Walking over to their table, Sheriff Jackson asked, "Do you mind if I join you?"

"Certainly not Sheriff. How can we help you?" Bart answered.

"We searched that gambler's room, and you were right. There was more than a hundred thousand hidden behind the chiffarobe. In his Bible, I found some strange sheets of paper listing future dates and events. They must be some sort of prophecy, but I thought you might want them."

"Thanks, it might make good reading. How did you happen to find them?"

"Well, after what you told me, it seemed strange for him to have a Bible in his bags."

"I think I would like to look at the Bible, along with his other things."

With a sly grin, the Sheriff said, "I thought you might. I've got them locked up over at the jail."

"Then I'll be over shortly, as I want to get some travel suggestions from you. I've got to be in Chicago in a few days."

Cecil Jackson's eyes furrowed, as he asked, "Will you be coming back soon?"

Looking at Bonnie, Bart replied, "Most definitely."

"Good. I'll see you shortly."

After the Sheriff left, the threesome finished their meal, discussing different ideas as they ate. Finally, after coffee and a serving of homemade cherry cobbler, the group split up. Bonnie headed off to talk to Sam about his store, while Zeke wanted to talk to some men who had just returned home from the war. Bart wished them well and headed towards the sheriff's office. When he arrived, Cecil locked the door behind him.

"What's going on Sheriff?"

"Mr. Simpson, that's exactly what I want to know!"

A suddenly concerned Bart asked, "What are you talking about?"

The sheriff pulled a Bible from his desk drawer and turned it to the inside page.

"Son, this is the Bible from that gent's room. I've never seen book binding like this and the published date inside is more than a hundred and fifty years in the future. In addition, the banker says the gold in your coins is too pure, and your paper money is too perfect. Our printing presses can't do work that fine. Do you want to tell me what's going on?"

"Will what I tell you stay in this room?"

"I promise. Unless you're involved in something illegal."

"Sheriff, I just hope you don't think I'm crazy. The man who had this Bible was named, Dr. Albert Rosen. He was a professor of history at Georgetown University, outside Washington, DC. He and another man were sent back here to stop some radicals from our time from killing General Grant. These radicals want to either prolong the war or force the North to give up. They believe that by doing so, they can alter the future and destroy our great nation. These people also killed my father and the girl I was planning to marry."

Overwhelmed at Bart's revelation, Sheriff Jackson seemed to melt into the chair behind him. It was almost as if his knees had turned to water.

"Son, I'm sorry for your loss, but please continue."

"Dr. Rosen and a sharpshooter were sent back first. The shooter was to try and take out the assassins, while Dr. Rosen, an expert on this time period, was to help make sure that they did not alter the future by changing this present."

"I think I'm following you. What happened to them?"

"By looking at the site where Rosen's supplies were sent, it was determined that Rosen had probably killed his partner and abandoned the mission. He probably planned to use the money to build a personal empire."

Sheriff Jackson thoughtfully asked, "If that was so, what was Rosen doing here in Fairhope?"

"Dr. Rosen and his partner were inserted into this time period somewhere on Colin's property. Rosen was addicted to gambling, and from what I have heard about O'Brian's gambling, he was also. I suspect Colin discovered Rosen on his place and eventually they teamed up to satisfy their need to win at the poker table."

"And where do you fit in?"

"I was sent here a few weeks later to prevent Grant's assassination. I was also to stop Rosen, if I had the opportunity. The man was just as much of a traitor to the United States as the men behind the planned assignation."

"And in the future, people frequently bounce around in time?"

"No. The process was discovered by the leader of the radicals, and it's a one-way trip. The key to the process is a rare element that probably came from a meteorite some time in the past. They used the last of the material they had to send me here."

"So, you're stuck here?"

"Sheriff, I may not be able to return to my time, but after meeting Bonnie, Zeke, you and the other good people in this town, I don't feel 'stuck' here at all. I'm still hurting about my loss, but I'm also overjoyed about my gain. I'm loved, respected and I see such a tremendous opportunity to do good here."

"Then, Bart, I promise that your secret is safe with me, and I'll support you anyway I can. I'll also let Willard know that I'm satisfied that the money is fine, just from a 'newer' source."

"Thanks, Sheriff. You know, in some ways you remind me of my father."

"Well, young man, I've never had any children. Least none I'd claim. From what I know at the moment, I couldn't imagine having a son better than you. Now, we have another problem."

"What's that?"

"Willard Franks, the banker, is very nervous about having all of your money in his bank. Right now, he's afraid his safe's not strong enough for what is needed. He wants to move most of the cash and all of the gold to his associate bank in Cincinnati. We can provide guards, but we would prefer for you to travel with us."

"Since I need to get to Chicago, that could work for both of us. At the same time, if the banker here spotted the problem, wouldn't the bank in Cincinnati also catch the differences in the money?"

"It doesn't work that way. From what I understand, the affiliated bank just holds the money in their vault, but they don't treat it as a deposit. They will just verify that the sealed packages were received. As far as Willard's bank is concerned, it is still in their vault, just that particular vault is located in Cincinnati. Later, when the bank grows and gets a more secure safe, Willard will likely bring part or all of the money back here."

"Okay, I follow you, but that is very much different from how it would be handled during my 'home' time. Now, how quickly can we leave and were you planning to go by steamboat or railroad?"

"We were figuring steamboat. Right now, it's a four-day ride over rough country to reach the nearest railroad headed in the right direction, but less than a day's ride to the Ohio River. A steamboat can usually get us from the dock at Chesapeake to Cincinnati in less than two days."

Bart replied, "To me, the steamboat should be the obvious solution."

"Yes, it should be. The problem with the steamboat we also get a large number of people, many of whom are nothing but thieves, deserters, and 'riff-raff'. The presence of men such as these would make it harder to protect the money. In addition, about once a month, one of those boat's boilers seems to blow up, destroying everyone and everything on board."

"And, if we didn't have any problems?"

"We could be in Cincinnati in less than three days."

"Sheriff, can you be ready in two days?"

"That'd be Sunday. We can leave early Monday morning."

"Sheriff, I would like to request that you send a couple of men on ahead. Men you really trust. At my expense, I want them to purchase a flat bottom boat large enough for eight men and ten horses, and prepare it a trip to Cincinnati. At the same time, I want them to arrange with one of the steamboats to pull us down the river. This will give us the speed we need, but it should also help protect us from both boat passengers who might decide to rob us, or an exploding boiler."

"I've never heard of anyone doing it that way, but it makes sense."

Remembering something he had seen on TV, Bart added, Sheriff, I also would suggest that they hire a boat that burns wood, rather than coal. I suspect that most of those explosions are sabotage, using a device called a Courtney Torpedo. It's a chunk of metal made to look like a lump of coal, but it's hollowed out and filled with gunpowder."

"Are you sure about that thing causing explosions?"

"I'd swear to it on Rosen's Bible."

Picking up on the meaning of that phrase, Cecil Jackson said, "Then, I'll pass that information to others along the river."

"Sheriff, you might also have them tell the boat's Captain that I'll give him a two hundred dollar bonus if he can get us safely to Cincinnati within twenty-four hours from the time we pull away from the dock."

"I'll get right on it. What do you want to do with Rosen's things?"

"Could you have them sent to my room? I'd like to at least look through them."

"Sure, I can do that."

Then, a hesitant Bart said, "Sheriff Jackson, there is something else I'd like to discuss with you, but it would be more like father to son."

The Sheriff leaned back in the chair, plopped his feet on the desk, placed his hands behind his head, and said, "Okay, Son, at times like this, call me Cecil. Now, what'd you need to discuss?"

"Women and marriage."

Moving back to his normal sitting position, Sheriff Jackson replied, "Bart, I think you've come to the wrong person. I've never been married, and my relationship with women is usually confined to the saloon floor, or the rooms upstairs."

"Cecil, my questions relate to what is normal for this time period. In my time, most courtships were fairly long, with the boy doing the chasing until he suddenly realizes that she's caught him. Bonnie told me tonight that she had chosen me to be her husband and the father of her children."

"And this bothered you?"

"It both bothered and confused me. I'm not used to such, especially from someone I just met. I mean, I like Bonnie and I trust her to help me begin my operations here, but I don't know if I love her."

"And in your time, 'love' is an important aspect in a marriage?"

"Cecil, it's the most important aspect!"

"And how do those marriages hold up?"

A light began to go off in Bart's head as he answered, "My parent's had a good marriage, and so did Jennifer's parents. At the same time, nationally I think about half of the marriages failed."

"Son, we also have some failed marriages, usually with the man or woman running off with another, but it's probably less than one out of every two to three hundred couples. The key here is that life is tough and many don't live to be very old. Occasionally, we have someone reach their seventy's, but most men die long before they're sixty. As for the women, too many die in childbirth or at least long before their time. Because of this, we put a lot more emphasis on trust and respect, as well as a woman's willingness to stand beside her man.

"Now, it's not common for a woman to do the asking, but usually, when she lets her choice be known, that's the end of it. Of course, if she was ugly, shrewish or such, it might make a difference. Normally though, if a woman verbally makes a statement like Bonnie did, the wedding quickly follows.

"Remember, in normal times, there is only one woman for every five men in this area, so it's doubtful a feller'll do any better. With our current 'crop' of widows, there are probably three available women for each unmarried man. I 'spect eventually it'll return to normal."

"So, what would you do in this situation."

"Son, I'd march straight over to that hotel and tell her that you will marry her as soon as possible. I can promise you that you won't find a better woman within two hundred miles."

"And what about getting over Jennifer?"

"Knowing Bonnie, I'd imagine she'd jump right in and help you deal with your loss. She definitely won't hold having loved this girl agin' you, nor will she allow you to hide your feelings."

"Thanks, Cecil. You've definitely given me something to think about."



-------

Chapter 8

Bart left the Sheriff's office, and walked toward the hotel. Thoughts and memories of Jennifer were swirling through the emotional portion of his mind. At the same time, his rational mind was still trying to digest Cecil Jackson's comments regarding the women of this era, and the advice he had given concerning Bonnie.

Reaching the hotel, he made the decision to at least talk to Bonnie. He felt the need to try to solidify their friendship, if nothing else. Thus, he went to her room and knocked. When she opened the door, she beheld a young man whose face expressed anguish and torment.

Concerned, Bonnie asked, "Are you all right?"

"I'm trying to be. It's just that everything in my mind is suddenly confused and in turmoil."

"Can I help?"

"Maybe. Could we go for a walk?"

"Certainly! Let me get my wrap."

The young couple walked out of the lobby and turned down the wooden sidewalk toward the center of town. The sun had already gone down, but lanterns along the street and on the side of buildings had been lit. A gentle southerly breeze carried the scents of freshly cut hay, intermingled with the aromas from various nearby kitchens. A bright orange 'harvest moon' hung low in the eastern sky, like a large eye peering over the tops of the hills and low mountains in the distance.

As they began their walk, Bart held out his left arm for hers. Bonnie quickly responded, placing her right arm within the crook of his. Then, carrying the closeness of their touch even further, she clasped his hand, intertwining her fingers with his.

Since Bart had had only one girlfriend in his life, he suddenly became timid and uncertain of what to say. He wasn't 'tongue tied'- he was struck mute.

Finally, Bart gathered the courage to ask, "How did it go with Sam regarding the general store?"

Bart's question totally confused Bonnie. After seeing Bart at her door, she had expected him to talk about a lot of things, but business was not one of them. She had been hopeful that he wanted to discuss marriage and plans for their personal future. At the same time, she was fearful that he would reject her as being just a backwoods widow... used goods too uneducated and unsophisticated for someone of his status and background.

After a few steps, Bonnie regained enough control to answer, "He was open to the idea, but he would still like to be involved. We also discussed getting him a house instead of his continuing to live in the back of the store. I thought it would provide a greater sense of separation from his past, as well as providing more space for merchandise and storage."

"That's an excellent idea. By the way, does he have any kin to leave the store to when he dies?"

"I don't think so. He lost his only son in the same battle where Angus was killed."

Bart nodded, remembering something he once heard from his Dad about a friend who owned a retail store. The friend, after struggling through the hard times, had subconsciously begin to think of the business as his child. According to his Dad, this wasn't that uncommon and it was similar to the way a mother would feel about a child to whom she had given birth and raised to maturity.

Based on this memory, Bart remarked, "Then the store is probably his 'baby'. He could be of great assistance to us, but I don't want fights with him over policy decisions, or the direction we may take the store. Do you think he can live with that?"

Bonnie responded, "I don't see it being a problem. He's just excited with the idea of the store surviving, and the hope of this town coming alive again. Using your example, it's like his child has grown up to the point of taking a wife. She's not Sam's wife, but she's still part of his family."

Bart squeezed Bonnie's hand and said, "Maybe we can also give him some grandchildren."

"I'm not sure how to respond to that."

Becoming more at ease, Bart replied, "It's okay. It will give us more to discuss in the future."

An anxious Bonnie asked, "Bart, will there honestly be a future for us?"

"I certainly hope so. If not, I am sure committing a lot of money for nothing."

Then taking her in his arms, he said, "Bonnie, I want to marry you, but I'm really wrestling with some things at the moment."

"The girl you lost? The one you were planning to marry?"

"Jennifer's a large part of it. It hasn't even been three months yet. There are also some other issues I need to resolve."

"I understand your feelings. I can wait, but I do have one question. Are you afraid to introduce me to your father? Are you ashamed of me?"

Surprised at the underlying insecurity and fear Bonnie was feeling, Bart responded emphatically, "That's two questions, but the answer to both is NO! Unfortunately, from that point, everything gets much more complicated."

In answering Bonnie's questions, Bart really thought about his father for the first time in weeks. He had just been too caught up in preparing for the mission to deal with his father's death. As a result, he started crying.

Bonnie held Bart close and asked, "Are you all right?"

Through his tears, Bart replied, "Answering your questions made me think about my Dad, and how much he would have loved you. Bonnie, I miss him so much!"

Confused Bonnie asked, "But aren't you supposed to see him in a few days?"

Caught in the lie, Bart remembered something his mom used to say about weaving a tangled web when attempting to deceive; how one lie just led to another and another. At that point, Bart made a critical decision.

Fighting back the tears, a determined Bart responded, "Bonnie, let's go back to the hotel. I need to show you something, and then we need to talk. We can't start or continue this relationship, if it is based a pack of lies."

Fright was now added to her confusion, as Bonnie said, "Are you wanted for something? Are you already married?"

"No, it's nothing like that. The Sheriff has already figured it out, and I would bet money that eventually, you would too. Now, can you be patient with me for a few minutes?"

"Bart, I'll be patient with you, forever... but let's hurry. You've really aroused my curiosity."

Bart almost laughed at Bonnie's conflicting statements. In spite of that, he did hurry. In fact, he hurried so much he stopped using his cane.

Noticing the difference as they approached the hotel, Bonnie remarked, "Your foot's better."

"Yes, it's been better for a while. It still gets tired, but the cane is part of the image I need to portray."

Bonnie's eyes furrowed as she questioned, "Were you really hurting when you came to my place?"

"Yes, Bonnie, I was. Besides, at that time I did not know who you were, or your circumstances. I've never used my foot to gain any advantage over you. Now, please sit here on the porch for a minute. I'll be back as quickly as I can."

When Bart hadn't returned almost ten minutes later, Bonnie was getting both fearful and exasperated.

'Surely, ' she thought, 'it shouldn't have taken him this long. Maybe I should ignore what the others in this town think and go to his room. I hope he didn't fall trying to rush.'

Thus, when Bart did appear, Bonnie immediately jumped into his arms.

Bart smiled as he teasingly asked, "You didn't miss me, did you?"

"Bart, after the way you left things hanging, I wasn't sure you'd be coming back."

"I understand. You don't need those feelings of insecurity and uncertainty, so hopefully, what I tell you will help. Here, let's sit in these chairs. With a bit of luck, no one will bother us or be able to hear what I have to say."

Under Bart's guidance, Bonnie sat in one of several rocking chairs that had been placed on the porch of the Hotel. The rocker that Bart had chosen was away from the door, but near one of the lanterns that was attached to the side of the building.

Once she was seated, Bart pulled another rocker beside her and said, "Now, before I start, I need your solemn promise not to tell anyone what I am about to reveal to you. I also need you to promise to hear me out before you react or form any judgments."

"Bart, I promise. With my whole heart, I promise."

"Now, also understand I'm doing this with a lot of fear, because this knowledge could be very dangerous to both of us, especially you. My reasoning for telling you the truth about me and my situation is that I suspect I'm falling in love with you, and I'm pretty sure our relationship will soon include marriage. Because of that, I don't want there to be any lies or dishonesty between us. I also want you to know that any falsehoods I have told you have been part of the 'cover' for my mission."

Bonnie was elated with Bart's statement of falling in love with her and that a wedding was a definite possibility. At the same time she was puzzled why Bart would have needed to lie to anyone. She was also concerned why he would use the words 'cover' and 'mission'. That sounded rather menacing to her. Was he a spy, and for whom?

Finally, after closing her eyes and saying a silent prayer, she said, "I'm ready."

"Okay. What I want to do first is show you something. Then, I will tell you what are the truths, what are the lies and most importantly, why. Now, first, please take this Bible."

"Do you need me to swear on the Bible?"

"No, I want you to open it and look at the date it was published. You might have to step into the lobby to see it."

"I think I can see it okay."

Then, as the information she read penetrated her mind, she softly exclaimed, "What! This can't be right! This date is more than a hundred and fifty years in the future!"

"It is correct. This was the Bible Sheriff Jackson mentioned to us at supper. The other man I shot this afternoon was named Dr. Rosen, and he brought it with him, though I'm not sure why.

Bonnie was shocked at Bart's revelation. She was also frightened where this could lead. Suddenly, she felt as vulnerable as a newborn infant.

Finally, regaining her composure, she asked, "So, you're from the future? Will you be going back?"

"No, it was a one way trip, and if what I was told is correct, there'll not be any more time travelers for a long time, if ever.

Bonnie's face and neck were flushed. Her eyes were flashing with anger, while the rest of her face expressed confusion and uncertainty. Her hands gripped Dr. Rosen's Bible so hard, Bart thought her fingertips would leave permanent indentures in the leather cover.

Finally, she cried, "Bart, or whoever you are... Why did you come here? To steal our land? To make a mockery of me?" Starting to cry, she continued, "Why? Just tell me why?"

Almost in tears himself over her reaction, Bart answered, "Bonnie, my darling! Calm down and remember your promise to hear me out."

Bonnie struggled with her anger and fear, but she finally replied, "I'm trying to keep control. Go ahead with your story."

Bart held her hand, trying to reassure her before continuing.

"I'm here to stop the people who murdered my father and Jennifer from killing General Grant. These people want to prolong the war, or for the South to win. What is even more serious, their purpose is not to help the South, but to change the future, keeping the United States from becoming the great nation it will become."

Then taking her hand and holding tightly against his cheek, he added, "I didn't come here to hurt you, nor do I intend to desert you when I'm finished. I have to take care of my mission, but then I plan to grow old with you, and with our children."

Her emotions almost out of control, Bonnie demanded, "If this is true, why did they send someone as young as you? Also, why didn't they send more people for something so important?"

"The element, or material, required to travel in time was very rare. After the radicals stole most of it for their own use, there was only enough remaining to send three people. The first two were Dr. Rosen and his partner. Later, when it was discovered that Rosen had killed his partner and taken the money, those in charge of this project were sure he had abandoned the mission. Since I happened to be the fastest gunman available, they used the last of the material to send me here to save the future."

Her eyes squinting in concentration, Bonnie said. "So! You're from the future, you're not Canadian, and your family doesn't have a big ranch. What about your foot?"

"I was climbing the hill to the house after getting the mail. Dad and Jennifer were still in the car when some of the radicals blew it up with something like a shoulder-mounted cannon. The explosion blew me backwards and over a wall. When I landed, the impact crushed the bones in my right heel, and my head took a heavy blow. I am still recovering, but my foot will never be totally right."

"What's a car?"

"Imagine a carriage that moves without horses."

"That sounds interesting, I'll ask you more about that, later. Now, explain why you needed to claim to be a Canadian looking for breeding stock?"

"The story was to give me a legitimate reason for traveling around the country and not be required to be in the Army. Being Canadian was my idea, as I spent several years in France with my father and speak French fluently. Being from another country and culture would also help cover any small mistakes I might make. The idea of buying breeding stock explained my having access to so much money. This money was actually my pay for giving up my life in the future. I have the one task to do, and then I'm free to live my life as I see fit; the life I want to live with you."

Bonnie studied his face for several minutes before she smiled and said, "Bart, I believe you, and I'm glad you told me the truth. Now, what's the real story about this trip to Chicago to see your 'father'?"

"I need to be on the eastbound train in Cairo, Illinois, on October 19th. This is when and where General Grant will board the train headed for Indianapolis. From there, he goes to Chattanooga, where he will begin the final push to end this war. In my history, the war ends in less than eighteen months. For the sake of our present and this nation's future, I've got to make sure Grant is not assassinated."

"Okay, you've explained the lies and circumstances, and I don't have a problem with anything you've told me. Now, tell me about the real Bart Simpson."

Bart laughed. "Bonnie, that was one lie I didn't think about. Bart Simpson is a fictional character from my time period. He was a real 'bad boy', always getting himself and others in trouble. It was my hope that if someone from my time heard the name, they would reveal it in their laughter, or in facial expressions. My real name is Kevin McKinsey and I'm not quite eighteen. I was a star football player until my heel was crushed, but 'football' wouldn't make any sense to you at this point. Let's just say it was a very popular game of my time."

In a softer voice, Bonnie asked, "I know these men killed your father. What about the rest of your family?"

"Sweetheart, I'm an 'only child'. My mother died when I was ten. After that, I pretty much traveled with my Dad from one assignment to another. That changed a couple of years ago, and I stayed with my best friend's family whenever Dad was out of town."

Curious about the idea of travel and assignments, Bonnie asked, "What did your Dad do?"

"He was in the military, investigating crimes that were related in some way to the Army. They made him a General the day he was buried."

"And this Jennifer? Was she pretty?"

Tears welled up in Bart's eyes as he answered, "Jennifer was my friend, my playmate and my girlfriend for most of my life. I thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world." After a brief pause to get his composure, a smiling Bart added, "That was is until you came out of the hotel in your new dress this afternoon."

"Good. I like that answer. Now, I have one final question. Will I be Mrs. Bart Simpson or Mrs. Kevin McKinsey?"

Happy beyond imagination, he exclaimed, "You still want to be my wife?"

"Of course! Though I want it to be sooner, rather than later."

"Like when?"

"We're a small community and not very formal about things. How about Sunday at church? Also, I like the name Kevin, but it might cause too much confusion if we try to change your name now. I guess I'll be Mrs. Bart Simpson."

"Maybe we can name one of our sons Kevin, but why Sunday?"

"Because I don't want you to go on this mission without our getting married."

"But Bonnie, you might end up being a widow again."

"I know it's possible, but I don't think you're going to get killed. Besides, if something does happen, I can hold my head up proudly, knowing what my husband attempted to do."

The couple spent the rest of the evening and most of the next day talking and planning. During a break, while Bonnie was planning with some of the women from the church, Bart went through Dr. Rosen's things. When he found nothing important, the stuff was taken to the back of the hotel and burned.

Saturday evening, Sheriff Jackson, Willard Franks and the rest of the town's leadership had a dance in the couple's honor. It was a major social event in a town that had had little to celebrate in more than two years. The women of the area brought food and desserts, while Jerry, the bartender (and saloon owner) brought a barrel of his 'best' whisky. He also brought a bottle of the Kentucky bourbon that he knew Bart favored.

During the eating and dancing, Bart was introduced to almost everyone in the area. Bonnie took advantage of the gathering to do a little 'ground-laying' among the widows, explaining in small groups what was being proposed. The women's overwhelming excitement reassured Bonnie that she had definitely chosen the right man.

Unfortunately, Bonnie's plans for a Sunday wedding in the church did not go as planned. Shortly after midnight, Sunday morning, Sheriff Jackson received a telegram from the leader of the men who had been sent ahead to arrange the riverboat transportation. It informed the Sheriff that the specified arrangements for travel to Cincinnati had been made, but the boat's Captain would only hold the departure until nine o'clock the next morning.

In a mad flurry, Sheriff Jackson, Bart and the men who had been hired to guard the money left in less than an hour. The group's departure was delayed a few minutes while the preacher performed a short wedding ceremony in front of all those in the town who were awake.

The marriage wasn't consummated, of course, but Bart did get to spend five minutes alone with Bonnie. During that time, she gave him a kiss which was definitely intended to encourage him to come home quickly.

The men rode as hard as they could through the dark night, arriving just minutes before the Captain's deadline. Immediately, two of the men were sent aboard the Sweet Laura to guard the tow ropes, while the rest of the men and horses were loaded into a large flat-bottomed boat. Minutes later, the steamboat pulled away from the landing at Chesapeake, Ohio, heading downstream.

After they departed, Bart and Sheriff Jackson learned that another ship had exploded during the night. It had happened about fifty miles upriver. As a result, only a few passengers had been willing to travel from Chesapeake this day. Since a decline in traffic always seemed to follow after an explosion, the Sweet Laura's Captain had informed the advanced team he planned to get down river quickly, hoping to arrive at some of the stops ahead of the news.

This potential loss in passengers and cargo was his reasoning for being willing to tow the group's boat to Cincinnati, and also the reason he insisted they leave so quickly. His charges for the tow, plus Bart's bonus offer would cover his expenses for the trip. Therefore, any money he made from passengers or cargo would be pure profit.

The Sheriff stationed guards at the four corners of the boat. After everyone had a breakfast of biscuits and fatback, he let everyone except those on guard sleep for a couple of hours. The boat seemed to be 'flying' over the water as it went by Ashland, Ironton and Franklin Furnace.

In each case, the Captain would blow his whistle as he approached the town, but no flag would be raised to tell them to stop. Bart figured that, at the speed the boat was traveling, they would be in Cincinnati in less than ten hours.

The Sweet Laura actually made it all the way to Portsmouth, Ohio, before she made her first stop. She had traveled forty-five miles in a little over an hour and a half. Even more significant, Portsmouth was almost a third of the way to their destination... The stop was a short one, picking up only a few passengers and some fresh vegetables for the markets in Cincinnati. The ship's crane also lifted on board a net full of split firewood for the boilers. While they were stopped, the Sheriff rotated the guards on both boats.

The next stop was Manchester, where more passengers boarded, but no supplies. During the stop, everyone on the flatboat was awakened for the noon meal. There was a small coal stove in a little shack in the middle of the boat, and the men were served hot coffee and a bowl of stew.

When they finished eating, the guards on the flatboat were rotated a third time. Those who laid down to rest were joined by an exhausted Bart. Though the next thing he remembered was being awakened by the Sheriff to look at the lights of Cincinnati dancing on the river, his sleep had been far from restful.

He couldn't remember anything specifically, but he thought his mind must have repeatedly replayed the vision of his Dad's Tahoe exploding, interspersed with remembrances of things he'd done with his dad and Jennifer.

It took Bart several minutes to recover, and his facial expression worried Sheriff Jackson.

"Are you all right?" asked the concerned Sheriff.

"I will be. I just had some bad dreams."

"Remembrances?"

"Yeah."

"It'll be okay, Son. That's just a part of mourning for your loved ones."

Grateful for the support, Bart answered, "Thanks."

A short time later, the steamboat pulled up to the dock. After the boat had been properly moored, the ropes towing the flatboat were cut. They were then thrown over to the dock where workers hauled the flat boat along side.

While Bart paid the Sweet Laura's Captain his bonus, the flatboat was unloaded. At this point, it would either be sold to someone to continue the trip down the Ohio to the Mississippi, or broken up for lumber. The reason for this was that there was presently no practical way to move non-powered boats back upstream, and Bart's concept of towing it like a barge was something no one had ever done before.

The bank in Cincinnati had arranged for extra guards to protect the shipment, and both groups of men escorted the money to the bank. Though it was past closing hours, this shipment would go straight into their vault. When the package count was verified, the bank gave both Bart and the Sheriff a receipt and telegraphed official notification to the bank in Fairhope.

Once they were finished, the bankers directed Bart, the Sheriff and his guards to a hotel where arrangements had been made for their stay. Bart took the men out for a good meal, making sure they were aware of his appreciation for a job well done.

After dinner, most of the men headed to the hotel for a good night's sleep. The rest decided to enjoy some of the local 'evening entertainment' before calling it a night.

The next morning, Sheriff Jackson roused his men from their slumber. On the way to breakfast, he knocked on Bart's door. When no one answered, he checked at the desk in the lobby. Here, he learned that Bart had already checked out, but had left him a note.

Sheriff.

When you get this I will have already embarked on the next phase of my mission. I hope to see you in about three weeks, but it could be more than a month. Please tell Bonnie that I miss her already. Also, remind her that as my wife, she is to hold her head up high with pride. If something goes wrong, and I don't return, she is to be treated with the respect deserving of my widow, as well as receiving all my possessions, money and property. 

Your friend, 

Bartholomew Pierre Simpson

The note saddened the Sheriff, as he hadn't been able to say good-bye to the young man he was beginning to love like a son. At the same time, he understood the importance of Bart's mission. He knew Bart could have 'taken the money and run'. He could have also abandoned his mission, staying in Fairhope with Bonnie.

'Fortunately, ' he thought, 'this young man had the honor and integrity to see this through to the end.'



-------

Chapter 9

Before daybreak, Bart took a horse-drawn 'cab' to the train station only to learn that the next train heading to Lexington, Kentucky, would not leave for more than five hours. Instead of waiting, he took the train to Indianapolis, which was already loading. He had to show his Canadian papers to the ticket agent, an Army captain looking for deserters, as well as the conductor.

When he was finally able to board the train, Bart found two opposing rows of seats in the back of the club car. Obtaining a blanket from one of the stewards, he was able to stretch out and rest in reasonable comfort.

A few minutes after he took his seat, the train pulled out of the station. As he watched the various buildings pass by the window across from where he was seated, Bart took a deep cleansing breath. He was finally moving, and his real mission had begun.

For the next hour or so, Bart was able to get some rest in his stretched out position, but it took some time to get used to the clickity-clack, as well as the swaying back and forth. He never realized you could get seasick on a train.

At the town of Conners, Indiana, another group of soldiers came through the various cars, looking for possible spies and deserters. An important official from Washington would be arriving soon in Indianapolis, and they were trying to prepare for trouble.

The Major, who led this group, accepted Bart's Canadian papers without any questions, and their authenticity was aided by Bart's French accent. However, the officer was quite adamant about Bart packing away his guns. After the detachment finished searching the train, the Major returned and talked with Bart for more than an hour.

In Indianapolis, Bart learned the next westbound train was leaving in a little over an hour, headed for Springfield. He would have liked to have gone directly to St. Louis, but this alternative was acceptable. While waiting, he got a decent meal in a restaurant near the train station.

Forty-five minutes later, a very full young man boarded the train to Springfield. Unable to find an empty seat in the club car like he had used earlier, Bart made do, stretching out on the back row of one of the regular passenger cars. Eventually, he was able to fall asleep, but was awakened a couple of hours later as his car was transferred to another train in the town of Dan, Illinois.

While they were in Dan, there was also a sizable increase in passengers. As the car filled with people, Bart had to make room for them and was no longer able to stretch out and rest. Finally, just before sundown, a conductor came through the car announcing that the train was approaching Springfield.

When Bart exited the train, he checked the board near the dispatcher. The next train to St. Louis wasn't scheduled to leave until noon the next day. He walked down the street and checked into a nice hotel. Skipping dinner, an exhausted Bart made his way to his room, and fell across the bed. He was too tired to even undress. He slept like a log, until he was wakened by one of the hotel employees coming to change the sheets. It was just before nine.

Bart went downstairs to the hotel dining room and ate a good breakfast. When he finished eating, he checked out and headed for the railway station. On the way, he spotted a men's clothing store. Realizing he still had almost two hours before the train's scheduled departure, Bart went inside. He purchased a new suit, several new shirts, a new pair of boots, and a leather grip in which to carry his purchases. As a courtesy, the store had someone 'freshen up' his existing suit while they quickly altered the new one.

When the alterations were completed, Bart made his way to the railroad station. Here, he learned the train to St. Louis was delayed for another two hours because of some damaged tracks.

With this much additional time, Bart decided to complete his new wardrobe. Walking back outside, he grabbed another cab and asked the driver to take him to the best hat maker in town. It turned out to be only a few blocks away.

At the haberdashery, Bart looked around for a few minutes. Finally, he described to the man exactly what he wanted. Shaking his head in skepticism, the man used a black blank crown which was the correct size and basic shape. A brim was added, and heat and steam was used to shape it. When it was finished, the black hat was a cross between a wide brimmed porkpie and a Stetson (which had not been invented yet).

After looking at himself in the mirror, Bart added a hatband made of linked silver discs. The haberdasher thought the hat looked stupid, but to Bart, it was the final touch to the 'perfect look' he had pictured.

Bart paid for the hat and caught another cab back to the depot. The train was still late, but Bart was told it would leave in less than thirty minutes. Actually, it was closer to an hour, but finally he was on his way to St. Louis.

Shortly before dark, the train arrived in the thriving city of St. Louis, 'The Gateway to the West'. Getting a cab to the docks, Bart booked passage on a steamboat called the Mississippi Dawn, which was scheduled to leave early the next morning.

While purchasing his passage, Bart learned he could pay for a cabin and spend the night on the boat. Feeling confident this was his best option, he paid the extra amount and had the steward take his bags to his cabin. While following the steward, Bart discovered his room was just down the hall from the gambling tables.

After a good meal, he decided to visit those tables, but only after rearming himself. He played with an Army Captain, a Kansas cattle buyer and a couple of 'drummers' (traveling salesmen). It was a just a friendly game, where the conversation was long and the pots were small. It made for a pleasant and relaxing evening.

A little before ten, Bart excused himself and headed for his room. After undressing, he lay on the bed, thinking about Bonnie and wondering how she was doing. Suddenly, he felt stupid. He could have sent her a telegram. He would do so in the morning. A short time later, he was sound asleep.

The next morning, Bart was awakened by the blowing of the boat's whistle. He caught a steward walking by his cabin door and asked him about sending a telegram.

"I'm sorry sir, but the boat is about to pull away from the dock. For a dollar, I can get one of the boys on shore to take a message to the telegraph office."

"A dollar?"

"Yes, Sir, and that includes the cost of the telegram."

"Then I don't see a problem. I need pen, paper and two minutes."

"Paper and pen are in the wall cabinet, Sir. I'll get someone lined up to run the errand and will be back here in less than two minutes."

Bart found the writing supplies and wrote:

Bonnie Simpson, Fairhope, Ohio 

Heading down river from St. Louis. Am ahead of schedule. Sorry about change in plans regarding wedding, but I don't regret a thing. See you soon. 

Love, Bart 

He had just put the blotter over the wet ink when there was a knock at the door. Opening it, there stood the steward. Bart handed him the message and two silver dollars.

A grateful Bart said, "Thanks for your help. One of these dollars is for you."

The steamboat was a couple of miles below St. Louis before Bart exited his cabin and headed for the main dining area. Here, he had a pleasant breakfast. It was the kind of meal which would have been frowned on in his time for having too much cholesterol.

After finishing his breakfast, Bart decide to explore the ship. As he rounded the rear port corner, he saw a mother and child standing on the rear deck. Unfortunately, the mother was paying more attention to the richly dressed gentleman next to her than to her child. As a result, the inquisitive child had climbed up on the rail to get a better look at the paddle wheel below.

Suddenly, the child began to lose her balance and screamed. The mother turned around, but she was unable to react fast enough. The gentleman, who had been the object of the mother's attentions, was not in the right position, and Bart was simply too far away.

At that point, Bart automatically reacted and grabbed the child with his mind. Suddenly conscious of what he was doing, he mentally held the child in place as she teetering on the edge of the rail. In doing this, Bart gave the mother enough time to grab her daughter and return the child to the safety of the deck.

Then, as the scolding mother led the child away, Bart leaned back against the wall, stunned at what he had done. After all, it was one thing to manipulate a playing card or two, but it was quite something else to hold a child, a living person, and keep her from falling into the churning paddlewheel below.

Finally, after things had settled down, and all the 'gawkers' returned to other parts of the ship, Bart made his way back to his cabin. Laying on the bed, he began to experiment by moving various items with his mind. Besides the fact he could do this at all, his biggest surprise came when he realized the mental effort needed to move a settee, or sofa, was the same as required to move a cloth napkin.

As he tried different ideas, Bart also found he could move things faster than the eye could follow. It was almost like they were being teleported, but unfortunately he had to see both the origin and the destination at the same moment. The one thing he discovered he could not move, was himself.

With more experimenting, Bart found he could even close off the gas to the light in his room. He continued his experimenting until the ship's dining area had almost quit serving the noonday meal.

After eating a plate of excellent fried chicken, beans and corn, Bart decided he would stroll around the deck to settle his dinner. He didn't have another crisis like with the little girl, but he was able to look out at the distant shore and cause limbs to break and fall from trees.

At one of the landings, Bart observed a man beating a young lad with a stick. The child could not have been more than six or seven, and Bart decided there was nothing a child that age could have done to justify such a severe beating. Therefore, on the next downward stoke, the man's arm hit something hard and sharp... something that didn't actually exist except in Bart's mind. The blow caused the man's arm to break and the stick to fall harmlessly into the water.

The man's scream caused many along the shore to come running. Some of those who came tried to help the man, while others seemed appalled at the child's back and arms. As they disappeared from Bart's sight, a matronly woman was supervising the child being removed from the boat. In the overall scheme of things, this was a relatively small incident, but Bart personally felt good at what he had accomplished.

Continuing his stroll around the deck, Bart eventually ended back at the his cabin. He removed his hat, coat and guns. Then, after removing his boots, he laid down on the bed and thought about his day and the implications of what he had discovered.

Suddenly, Bart sat up in the bed and thought, "Why couldn't I have used this power to save Dad and Jennifer?"

Grieving over his loss and his inability to save his loved ones, Bart cried for hours. Finally, he was forced back into the real world by the steward banging on his door.

"Mr. Simpson, are you in there?"

Opening the door with one of his pistols behind his left leg, Bart said, "I'm here. How can I help you?"

Ignoring the young man's tear streaked face, the Steward answered, "I'm supposed to tell you we're approaching Cape Girardeau. The ship's manifest says it's your destination."

Handing the young man a tip, Bart responded, "Thank you. I'll gather my things, but I'll need assistance getting off the boat. I can't handle two bags and my cane."

"Not a problem, Sir. I'll return to help you as soon as we're docked."

Bart closed the door and got dressed. He made sure both of his bags were ready and waited for the steward's return. He had barely sat down before there was another knock at the cabin door. He carefully opened it, only to find the same steward as before.

"Are you ready, Sir?"

Bart asked, "Yes. Can you handle both bags, or do I need to carry my valise?"

"I can handle both of them, Sir."

The young man grabbed both bags and followed Bart off the boat. At Bart's request, he obtained a cab and loaded the bags in the rear. The man's diligence led to another silver dollar tip.

"Where to, Sir?" asked the driver of the horse drawn cab.

"To the best hotel in town, and let's pray they still have rooms available."

"That would be the Mississippi House, Sir. As for a room, you shouldn't have a problem. I just came from there with a group who will be boarding the boat you were just on."

The trip to the hotel took a little more than five minutes. Bart checked in and had his luggage carried to his room. Twenty minutes later, he was in the hotel's restaurant eating a fine steak.

After dinner, Bart wandered into the area of the hotel set aside for poker. He sat at an empty table with his back to the wall, and ordered a bourbon. As he nursed the poor imitation for good Kentucky 'sippin' whiskey', he carefully looked over the room. When he finished the drink, he returned to his room. He had not seen anything to attract his interest.

Back in his room, Bart began to think through his plans. According to the newspaper he had purchased in the lobby, it was now the fifteenth of October. On the sixteenth, in anticipation of Grant's arrival, Rosecrans was supposed to be relieved of his command of the Union forces in Chattanooga.

On the same day, Grant would leave Memphis and come up the Mississippi River to Cairo, Illinois. On the seventeenth, the General was scheduled to board a train headed to Indianapolis. There, he was to meet with Secretary of War Stanton, who was to give Grant the official orders to take command of all the Union forces in Ohio, Kentucky and Tennessee.

In Bart's mind, this was an extremely circuitous route for Grant to take to Chattanooga, but according to history, this was the route he took. It was probably to meet Secretary Stanton, though Bart couldn't imagine why it was so important for them to meet in person. If Rosecrans could be ordered away from Chattanooga with a telegram, why couldn't Grant's orders be handled the same way?

Anyway, from Indianapolis, Grant would go to Louisville, Nashville, and finally to Chattanooga. In addition, in Louisville, the train would pick up the Union payroll for the troops in Nashville and Chattanooga.

Though Bart knew their plans could change, Dr, Meyerhauf's notes made distinct reference to this section of the trip. A portion of the radical militiamen from Idaho were to board the train in the first stop south of Louisville, while the rest were to board at a place called Horse Cave.

Dressed in Union uniforms, they were to force the engineer down a spur toward a town named Glasgow. In the area between the main tracks and Glasgow, they planned to rob the payroll and the passengers. During the robbery, Grant and his staff were to become 'victims'.

With this knowledge, it was Bart's plan to be well established to Grant and the other soldiers as a normal passenger. This was his reason for wanting to be on board when Grant and the others joined the train. This plan would also enable Bart to adjust to any deviations in his enemy's plans.

According to one of the men who trained Bart for this trip, Meyerhauf's overall strategy was actually brilliant. It would take the railroad many hours to locate the train, and the train company would not realize the significance of the missing or murdered Grant. If the south could be told of the leadership vacuum, an offensive could be launched which could potentially drive the Union troops all the way back across the Ohio River. One theory was that, while the robbery/assassination was taking place, the old German would journey to the Confederate headquarters in northern Georgia to tell them of Grant's death. It would be up to Bart to keep that message from becoming true.

As Bart's mind dwelt on his mission, the image of Bonnie running to him in her new dress suddenly entered his mind. At that point, all these other thoughts became superfluous. It was probably his teenage hormones, plus the stress of his responsibility, but the image changed to one of a pregnant Bonnie sitting on a porch swing, reading to two young children.

The house sat on the side of a hill, overlooking a valley. A stream flowed through the valley and a herd of horses were grazing in the tall grass. It was so vivid, Bart felt he could have drawn the blueprints for the house. The image was still in his mind when he finally fell asleep.

The next morning, Bart awoke refreshed and happy. The anxiety and awesome feelings of responsibility seemed to have taken a vacation. For the first time, his heart no longer ached for Jennifer or his father. Instead, his mind seemed filled with plans for his, Bonnie's and their children's future. He was sure he would never forget his Dad and Jennifer, as well as his friend Jamar, but he instinctively 'knew' this was now his 'home', and Bonnie, Zeke, and the Sheriff were his family.

During the night, he had also made some decisions regarding his future. He knew these plans would alter history to some degree, but it would also make the resulting future greener and more environmentally friendly. It would also drastically change the economies of southeastern Ohio and northwestern West Virginia. Instead of poverty, disease and sadness, he planned on making it the garden spot in middle America.

After eating a good breakfast, Bart went to the largest bank in town. There, via the telegraph, he was able to establish a line of credit based upon the money he had on account in Cincinnati. Once the line of credit was in place, he began working with various businessmen in the Cape Girardeau area.

His first business call was to locate someone who could coordinate the shipping of his purchases. Items not shipped directly from the east would be gathered and shipped by this agent, even if the agent had to hire a steamboat for an exclusive run up the Ohio.

At a dealer in heavy equipment, Bart ordered the material for two steam powered sawmills, as well as a new item called a planer. He also ordered several smaller steam engines and some pumps which could be driven by the engines he had purchased.

At a lumberyard, Bart ordered ten barrels of heavy tar, and two hundred and fifty metal roofing panels. He paid an extra twenty cents per panel to have the panels dipped in zinc. These panels would be produced in St. Louis, so a direct shipment was not in his best interest. While he was there, Bart also ordered a hundred pre-made glass windows, thirty wood stoves and a large assortment of nails, hinges and other hardware.

At the office of a representative of some eastern textile companies, Bart ordered a hundred bolts of felt to be shipped direct to Fairhope.

At a large feed store, Bart found numerous sacks of black walnuts which had gotten wet and were considered worthless. Remembering something he had seen on TV about mature black walnut trees selling for more than two thousand dollars a piece, he purchased the entire lot for a single dollar. In addition, large quantities of other seeds were ordered, including something else the owner considered worthless. It was called of all things, 'blue grass'. The owner promised that all of Bart's purchases would delivered shortly to his freight agent.

As Bart was discussing what he wanted to do, another shopper interjected, "Son, I'm 'Pops' Griffin. Are you interested in horses?"

"Pops, I'm definitely interested in horses. I think the valleys of southern Ohio could be good horse county."

"Southern Ohio? I live in northern Kentucky. I have some small herds of several different breeds, and I've been trying to use carefully controlled breeding to develop a superior horse."

Bart nodded and replied, "So, how's your project coming?"

The old man sadly proclaimed, "I was making progress, but I'm now I'm out of money. To make matters worse, I've been told I have consumption. The doctor has said I will be dead inside two years. I'm on my way home from seeing my son in Kansas City. I tried to get him to take over my operation, but he has no interest in horses."

"How much do you want for them, assuming they're as good as you say?"

"I would need enough to pay some men for bringing them to you, plus I need enough to live off of until this thing finally kills me."

"Can you sell your place?"

"Nope, it's leased land, and the lease has really already expired. The family which owns it doesn't have the heart to throw me off the place."

"Then why don't you bring the horses to Huntington, West Virginia. Notify me, or my wife, when you are coming. We'll meet you there, and if the horses are as you say, we will cover the cost of your drivers and provide for your needs until you pass on."

"And if I live longer than two years?"

"Pops, I didn't put any limit on it. Besides, with your knowledge of horses, I hope you live to be a hundred. Does that sound fair?"

"Son, you've got me mighty interested. What about money for things like a chaw of tobacco?"

"We own the general store, and if the store doesn't have it, we'll order it. In addition, if you're involved with helping us with the horses, I'll see that you also get some spending money."

"Then, Son, you've got a deal. Tell me who I need to contact."

Bart asked the store's owner for a sheet of paper. After writing down his and Bonnie's name and the name of their town, he gave it to the old man. Bart looked at his pocket watch as the old man excitedly put away the note.

Bart asked, "Pops, it's lunchtime. How about joining me for a meal?"

"Mr. Simpson, I would be glad to."

"Pop's, it's just Bart. You're too old to be calling me 'Mister'."

"But, Son, it's a sign of respect."

"You trusting me with your future shows me more respect than all the 'misters' you will ever utter."

The two men had a great meal, sharing thoughts and ideas for the entire afternoon.

When they finally parted ways, Bart said, "Pops, I hope to see you within the month. We really need to get the horses over the river before it begins to ice over."

Disappointed the two were parting company, Pop's asked, "So, are you headed down to Cairo and up the Ohio?"

"No. Actually, I've got to go west a ways, and then through Cairo to Indianapolis. From there I'll eventually get home. That's why I gave you Bonnie's name as well as mine. I'll send word to her about my promise, so if I'm not home when you arrive, you'll still be taken care of."

Pops headed to his room at one of the boarding houses, while Bart went to the office of the stage line to check the schedule. On his way to Cairo, he wanted to make a short stop in the town of Benton, Missouri. He planned to talk to a doctor he had heard about before catching the train to Cairo.

After reviewing all the schedules and firming up his itinerary, Bart was pleased to learn he would be in Cairo about an hour and a half before General Grant's steamboat arrived. He also sent a telegram to Bonnie advising her of his promise to 'Pops' Griffin.

Bart again had a good night's sleep and was awakened by a bellboy knocking on his door. This was the hotel's answer to his requested 'wakeup call'.

After a good breakfast, he had his bags brought down and placed in a waiting cab. He tipped the bellboy, complimented the manager on their accommodations and headed to the stage office. The stage left on time and arrived in Benton about two hours later.

Slowly and carefully stepping off the stage, Bart asked the ticket agent, "Sir, I'm here to talk to Doctor Martin. Can you give me directions, and may I leave my bags in your care until I am ready to proceed on my journey?"

Observing Bart's need for a cane, he replied, "Sure. I'll store your bags behind my counter. As for Doctor Martin, if that's what he really is, you'll find him in the office over the barbershop."

When the agent gave the directions, he also pointed out the building. Bart made his way to the stairs, which he slowly climbed.

Entering the Doctor's office, Bart looked around until his eyes rested on a man with light brown hair and a closely trimmed Van Dyke. He had been reading a book, but was now scrutinizing the young man who had hobbled into his office.

"Did you break your ankle, or crush your heel?"

Bart responded, "My heel, but it's getting better each day."

"Did you have a cast on it?"

"For a while, but I needed more mobility."

"I could fix a soft cast for you, if it would help."

"Doctor Martin, I appreciate the offer, but my time is short. I'm more interested in your views regarding the causes and treatments of diseases. I have also heard of your comments regarding a healthy diet and exercise to help ward off illness."

"Are you here to criticize me also?"

"No, I want to hear more, as I may want to offer you a job."

Surprised at this revelation, they talked for over an hour. As they talked, Bart discovered that, though this man's views were radical for much of this time period, he was dead on with most of his ideas and observations. This was especially true in the area of diet and sanitation.

Finally, Bart asked, "Doctor, what would it take to convince you to relocate to our small community in southern Ohio? We don't have a doctor at present, but we will be growing much larger in the future. I happen to agree with your ideas and believe we can help each other."

"Mr. Simpson, it wouldn't take much. My problem is I have too few patients to afford to stay here, yet I can't afford to move."

"Would a hundred dollars cover your debts and enable you to accept my offer? I will also provide you with a home, an office and ten dollars a month. As we prosper, you can start charging those who can afford it for your services, but any others in the community will be treated for free."

"And where is my new home located?" smiled the good doctor.

"It's a little north of Huntington, West Virginia."

"Where is this West Virginia? I'm familiar with Virginia, but that's part of the Confederacy."

"There was a section of northwestern Virginia which refused to secede from the Union. It was a declared a separate state last year. Huntington is on the Ohio River, just downstream from where the river turns west after coming south from Pennsylvania."

"What's it like there?"

"Rolling hills, tree covered mountains and green valleys. The winters are fairly cold, but not as bad as here, as the mountains and hills tend to block a lot of the wind. The summers are some milder, and we have a pretty good growing season. The area has an abundance of young widows whose husbands were killed in the war. Though we're trying to bring in more men, right now there's almost three available women for every available man."

"You make it sound almost like heaven."

Dr. Martin's remark reminded Bart of a line from a John Denver song about West Virginia his Mom loved.

With damp eyes, Bart replied, "It could be that way. With our efforts, it sure could be."

When Bart left a few minutes later, Jeremiah Martin was already packing up his office.

Returning to the stage office, Bart caught the stagecoach to Morley. The ticket agent had observed the young man struggling down the stairs from the Doctor's office and had held the stage for him. The agent had also loaded Bart's luggage in the stage's boot.

Bart was exhausted by the time he got to the stage, so the agent and the driver helped him get on board. There were only two other passengers. A young lady, who was to catch the train east to visit her grandmother, and a rather rough looking character in a long duster. About a half an hour outside of town, the man tried to pull his pistol. When he did, Bart hit the would be bandit's wrist with his cane, causing the pistol to drop to the floor of the coach. Bart reached down, picked it up and threw it out the window.

The man was shocked at his failure, but the girl was excited by the action and the calm way the young man had taken care of the problem. She wanted to immediately tell the driver, but Bart convinced her to just let it go. When he did so, the character breathed a sigh of relief, pulled his hat over his eyes and folded his arms.

The entire trip to Morley was only an hour, so shortly Bart was seated on the train headed for Cairo, and the young lady, Melissa Talbot, was seated next to him. She was sad to learn the handsome young man was married, but she still enjoyed his company.

In Cairo, the train was moved to another track. Now part of the Cairo-Vincennes Railroad the train pulled into the appropriate depot, where several high ranking Union officers, including General Grant came on board. They questioned the two and were surprised to see Bart's Canadian papers. At first, one of the General's staff had wanted them to move to another car, but General Grant told him to leave the couple alone. Everyone in the group assumed they were married.

Shortly, the train pulled out of the station, headed for Indianapolis. A few hours later, the train arrived at the same terminal Bart had passed through a few days earlier. Melissa and Bart followed the Union officers inside. After helping her find the train to Cambridge, he checked on the train to Louisville.

Discovering he had an hour's wait, Bart found a restaurant and had a meal of stew served over rice. The stew wasn't bad, but the fresh buttermilk biscuits were a real treat.

When he finished the meal, Bart went into a bathroom with real running water, he freshened up and rechecked his pistols. He also changed out the load in the cane back to the Glaser round. This would give the little thirty-two more stopping power, and it would be less likely to hurt anyone other than his intended target.

Even with all that, he was fifteen minutes early. He boarded the train and sat in the club car until it was closer to the time to leave. Looking out the window, he noticed a portly gentleman in fancy clothes surrounded by armed soldiers. Bart had no doubt he was the Secretary of War. Knowing Secretary Stanton had left the train, Bart limped back to the car containing Grant and his staff. They looked up when he entered, but they were all wearing smiles.

One of them asked, "Where's your lady?"

"She went on to Cambridge to visit her grandmother. While she's there, I've got to go to Nashville to look at some stock."

When they didn't say anything else, Bart sat in the rear seat, moving over next to the window. Almost immediately, the train began to pull out of the station. A short time later, the conductor opened the door and started to come in to collect tickets. When he saw the General and the other officers, he backed out of the car, not even realizing Bart was there.

Over the next few hours, the train made several stops before reaching Louisville. There were few passengers to board, but the train took on some freight. When some soldiers armed with Sharps rifles climbed into the freight car, Bart suspected they were protecting the Army Payroll. A few minutes later, the train pulled out of the Louisville Depot.

About forty-five minutes later, the train slowed for its first stop. Bart stood to stretch his legs and was able to see a Captain and four soldiers board the car right behind the engine. It appeared things were proceeding according Meyerhauf's plan.

Moments later, the train resumed its way south. It bypassed the next station as the platform was empty, but the one after that was Horse Cave Station, and several people were waiting for the train. Five of them were in Army uniforms.

As Bart looked out the window, he also spotted the infamous Dr. Meyerhauf talking to a young man who was holding a horse by the reins. When Dr. Meyerhauf confirmed all of his men were on board, he said something to the young man. The person immediately jumped on his horse and rode off like the wind.

'So that's how he's notifying the South, ' thought Bart.

When the train started to pull away from the station, Bart realized the man who had killed his father and Jennifer was not getting aboard.

'He going to go free!' thought a fuming Bart.

Making a decision, Bart reached out with his mind and pinched the main artery leading out of Meyerhauf's heart. The man grabbed his chest and was dead of a heart attack before anyone could notice him falling.

Before Bart could even think about what he had just done, a sergeant knocked on the door, announcing that he had an urgent telegram for the General. One of the officers opened the door, only to be greeted by five cocked pistols. They pushed him toward Grant and the other officers, completely ignoring Bart in the back corner.

"General," said the sergeant, "sometimes you have good days, and sometimes you have bad. Today you are getting both. For the good, you get a new star and an increased command. For the bad, you are about to lose your precious payroll, as well as your life."

Bart left his cane sitting on the train seat and stood up. He had yet to draw either of his pistols.

Bart took a deep breath and said, "I don't think so. You forgot about me."

Surprised by Bart's voice, the five men made their biggest mistake. Instead of shooting Grant and then worrying about who was behind them, they all turned back towards Bart. As they turned, Bart drew both of his weapons, killing two of the men with the pistol in his left hand and three with the one in his right. It was the most awesome display of gunmanship any of the Union officers had ever seen.

General Grant was the first to snap out of his daze.

He cried out, "You knew! You knew this was going to happen!"

Bart replied, "General, there are others on the train in Union uniforms. These men were to kill you, while the others were to force the engineer to take a spur up ahead. Major, I'll guard the General. Use only troops you personally know, as well as those in the freight car, and clear the vermin from the train."

When General Grant nodded his approval, the four staff officers drew their weapons and headed toward the front of the of the train. The detachment who had come with them from Memphis was in the car directly in front of this car, and the freight car was next.

After his staff had left, General Grant sat in the seat in front of Bart and turned around to face him.

He studied Bart's face for a moment, and in French, he asked, "How did you know, and who are you with?"

Bart responded in French, "The Royal Canadian Mounted Police got wind of this action and sent me here 'undercover'. I had no jurisdiction, nor did I have any proof, until they acted."

Switching back to English, the General said, 'Young man don't undo the good you have done by lying to me. I may seem like a drunken bumpkin to a lot of people, but I know a lot more than most would believe. The Canadians are talking about a national police force, but it hasn't been approved yet, much less put into operation. In addition, your French is a little off, and your guns fire faster than they should be able to. Now, do you want to tell me more?"

"General, I don't know how much I can tell you without drastically changing history."

Instantly realizing what Bart's statement implied, Grant asked, "Will I succeed at Chattanooga?"

"Yes, and with Sherman and Sheridan's help, this war should be over in about seventeen months."

"Will the nation be reunited?"

"Yes, but the atrocious actions of the North after the war, will cause massive emotional scars, making the reconciliation difficult for almost a hundred years. Having grown up in the south, I wish you could keep the rape and pillage from happening, but to do so, would drastically alter the future."

A stunned and confused General asked, "But, how could Lincoln let that happen?"

Bart answered, "Shortly after Lee surrenders, Lincoln will be assassinated. Later, Congress will try to impeach Johnson. It will fail, but his presidency will be totally ineffective. Ultimately, you will follow him into the presidency, though your friendship with him will be destroyed long before then."

A stunned General Grant exclaimed, "A hundred years! How far in the future are you from?"

"Let's just say it was more than a hundred and fifty years."

Shaking his head at this revelation, Grant asked, "Anything else I need to know?"

"Yes, one of your biggest supporters will be the Confederate Colonel John Mosby, also known as 'the Gray Ghost'. You will grant him a pardon and make him an ambassador to someplace in Asia; he can tell you where. Also, listen to him well. In my time, he was considered a very good politician, if there is such a thing. It sounds like an oxymoron to me."

Grant laughed at Bart's comment before asking, "And what happens to you? Do you journey back to the future?"

"No, General. This was a one-way trip, and there should be no others coming. They had just enough of the essential material left to send me and some supplies."

Surprised to hear of the young man's sacrifice, Grant asked, "And why did you give up your life in the future to come and save my sorry arse?"

"Sir, my father was also a general. He and his men investigated crimes relating to the Army. This group killed my father and the girl I was to marry, as well as leaving me somewhat crippled. I came to protect our great country and its future. The fact I could also rain vengeance down on those murderers was just icing on the cake."

"Son, my condolences on your loss, but I'm glad you could counter their plans and get your revenge."

Bart nodded and then added, "Oh, by the way, just before I killed him, the leader sent word of your impending demise to the South's leaders in Georgia. I would expect a counter attack to exploit the expected leadership vacuum and confusion among your officers."

"Thanks. We'll be prepared. How about you? Since you can't go back to the future, where will you go, and what will you do?"

"I'm headed for southern Ohio, where I have met a young widow who has helped me get over my girlfriend's death. We were married just minutes before I began my journey to stop this assassination."

"Does she know, and why there? I would have figured you would go to some place like New York or Philadelphia, where your knowledge of our future would make you rich."

"Yes, she knows. When I realized I was falling in love with her, I knew there was no room for falsehoods in our relationship. Why there? I guess I figured it would be a place where I would be less likely to make major changes which would affect the future.

"As for wealth, I guess I'm as rich as I care to be. I was able to bring enough to enable me to live reasonably if I'm careful. In addition, I have the love of a good woman, the respect of a great community and I'm buying up land to raise some of the finest horses and cattle in the world. When this war is over, there will be a lot of growth in both the north and the south. I plan on providing lumber for construction and fresh foodstuffs for their stores. I may even help a few inventors along the way with ideas, as well as few silent partnerships. Whatever I do will be to ultimately help people and this country."

"And, if I want to talk to you more in the future?"

"Send a telegram to Bart Simpson, Fairhope, Ohio. Just remember this General, I'm willing to talk to you in the future, but I'm not willing to talk about the future. Once I do that, it will no longer be our future."

"Bart, how old are you?"

"Sir, I'm eighteen."

"Eighteen! I would have thought a young twenty-five. If eighteen year olds are this mature in our future, then the future of this country is bright indeed."

The general's staff returned at that moment. They were surprised to see the two men chatting like they had known each other for years. A major announced the train was now secure and all those involved in the attempted robbery and murder had been killed. Before he finished, more soldiers came in to remove the bodies.

General Grant stood to rejoin his staff. Then turning back to Bart, he shook his hand.

"Thanks, Son. It has been a pleasure to get to know you. What are your plans now?"

"I'm getting off at the next opportunity and taking a train headed back north. I'll go to Cincinnati and take a steamboat home. You know, General, that word 'home' sure has a nice ring to it."



-------

Epilogue

FBI Special Agent Dwight Bowman knocked on the door frame to General Scott's temporary office.

Malcolm Scott looked up at the sound and said, "Come on in, Dwight. How was your trip?"

"Excellent. It's been years since I've been there, and I'd forgotten just how beautiful it is."

"Did you get to do some fishing?"

"Did I ever. Those mountain streams are just teeming with fish. I spent some time teaching the boys how to handle a fly rod, and Tommy ended up catching a trout that weighed more than two pounds."

"I'll bet that made his day. He's what... twelve?"

"Not for another four months. Brian is only seven, but he still caught a few small trout, just nothing big enough to keep. I think they'll both develop a love for fishing and for the outdoors."

"Dwight, I envy you. Mike's son, Kevin, was probably the closest thing I'll ever have to a son."

"Don't give up. I know that your and Martha's divorce was hard on you, but you're still young enough to remarry and have a child."

"Theoretically, but my inability to give Martha a child was a major factor in the divorce. If I ever have a family, I'll have to find an 'instant' one, and most of those come with too much 'baggage'."

"That may be true, Malcolm, but I wouldn't stop looking. You might find what you're looking for among some of the women who have lost husbands in the middle east."

"It seems to me, they would have had their fill of the military."

"That might be true, but remember, you're Federal, not Corporate. It's a large distinction."

"True. True. Now, to change the subject, have we gotten any confirmation that Kevin was successful?"

A surprised Dwight Bowman exclaimed, "They didn't get word to you?"

"Word about what?"

"While I was in the area, I checked the cave. It's nice the way it's sealed off from the public. Anyway, there was a note from Kevin saying that everything went according to plan. Meyerhauf, his men and even Dr. Rosen were all taken care of. He also sent a package, but the note asked that we open it together. I've had the lab guys checking it out just in case. Especially verifying the note from Kevin. It should be delivered here in a few minutes."

At that moment, a young women in a lab coat came to the door and asked, "Agent Bowman?"

Dwight answered, "Yes?"

"Your assistant said you would be here. I have the package and note you wanted checked. We x-rayed the package. It contains a letter, a book and what appears to be some kind of pendant to be worn around the neck. As for the note, it is definitely from Kevin McKinsey."

With that, the lab technician handed him the package and left.

Dwight asked, "Malcolm, do you want the honors?"

"In this case, I guess I do. I really miss that young man."

Agent Bowman handed the package to General Scott, who proceeded to cut the string that bound the oilcloth wrapping. Inside was a Bible, an envelope addressed to him and the small vial of Jennifer's ashes that Malcolm had given Kevin while he was recovering in the hospital.

Picking up the vial and its chain, General Scott stated, "Well, from this, I would say he was able to put Jennifer's death behind him. Let me open the envelope and see what he has to say. Maybe he also explains this Bible."

Opening the envelope, Malcolm found a note from Kevin and another envelope.

Looking at Kevin's note, General Scott said, "Kevin says he's fallen in love with a young widow, and they've gotten married. The Bible was something Dr. Rosen smuggled back in time, along with some specific and detailed information that could have helped him capitalize on his knowledge of the future. Kevin said that he was afraid that someone would gain access to those notes, so he burned them. He adds that the second letter will be self explanatory."

Opening the second envelope, General Scott's eye's suddenly enlarged and his jaw dropped.

Dying of curiosity, Dwight asked, "Malcolm, what is it?"

"It's a letter from President Ulysses S. Grant to the two of us, thanking us for our efforts to save his life and the Union. There are two copies, one for each of us to hang on our wall."

"Really? How did he know?"

"I can only guess that Kevin told him for some reason. It doesn't seem to have changed history, though. He's still one of greatest Presidents that we've ever had, and that makes these letters incredibly valuable. It really is too bad that no one but us will ever see them, as the subject matter has to be considered top secret."

"I agree. I still remember studying President Grant's impassioned speech regarding the rights of women, comparing them to the southern slaves that Lincoln had freed. It's still considered second only to Lincoln's 'Gettysburg Address' as the greatest speech by an American President."

Still holding the letter, General Scott shook his head, and said, "I can't believe Kevin would reveal this to Grant. It could have definitely changed the future."

Agent Bowman replied, "I know, but it doesn't seem to have, nor does it appear that Kevin has done anything detrimental either. America is the strongest nation in the world. We have well secured borders and a strong and growing economy. On top of that, the country has only been involved in two wars since Grant was President."

"Well, with a major corporation like Simpson Industries controlling much of the world's resources, as well as its communications, its computers, and the manufacture of military hardware, the rest of the world seems to take our neutrality seriously."

"That's true. In addition, because of the 'Grant Neutrality Amendment', the Simpson Corporate Forces, as well as those of other Corporations, seem to be well able to put down 'hot spots', before they can develop into wars that would involve Federal Troops."

"Speaking of Simpson Industries, isn't their headquarters near where you were vacationing?"

"Yes, it's in Bartston. Actually, that whole area, including Lake Bonnie, is owned by Simpson Industries, but a large part of it is leased to the National Park Service for public use."

-------



AUTHOR'S NOTE: For those readers who have little knowledge of American History or Geography, General Grant was considered one of America's worst Presidents. In addition, during his Presidency, the suffrage movement among women was almost crushed. Finally, this area of southern Ohio and northwestern West Virginia is currently one of the most seriously polluted areas in the country. There are huge 'mountains' of slag from the coal mines and the streams are so bad that virtually nothing can live in them. It is also the largest pocket of poverty in the entire country.




-------
The End
-------
Posted:  2006-11-29
Last Modified: 2006-12-30 / 05:01:49 pm
-------
http://storiesonline.net/
-------