Historical
A tall, broad man barked an order. Two soldiers grabbed a third by the arms and threw him from the truck. He staggered backwards and fell heavily in the mud and gravel of the drive. Hattie held her breath as he lay there for a few seconds. Then pushing himself up on his elbows, he turned to get up. Hattie, lifting her skirts, ran to find out what was going on.
Desperately I looked around for a way out. We couldn't get over the fence. The strands of barbed wire on top of it would rip us to shreds. Behind it, in the distance, the baseball game was going on. Why couldn't I have been there? The only way was the street...we'd have to dodge the cars. I took a step toward the street, but Sam put a hand on my shoulder.
"Nope," he said, shaking his head. "We're not running any farther."
"But...but...we can't fight them...we can't win," I stammered.
"We can't win, but we're going to fight them. Get rid of this," Sam said as he pulled the "I Am Chinese" button off my shirt and then took off his and stuffed them both in his pocket. "Cover my back and I'll cover yours."
They came forward slowly. They knew there was no place to go.
The war between the States has only been over for two months, and the roads and rivers are clogged with men traveling in all directions. Most of them will make it home one way or another. That's the easy part. It's what you bring home inside your head that's the problem.
He introduced himself as Bill Bonney, but said that everyone just calls him Kid because he's only eighteen. That makes him two years older than me, but he's smooth-cheeked and lightly built and could pass for younger. I think back to the other Kid I've met—the man I killed last year. But Bill is different. I've immediately taken a liking to him.
