The rough bouncing and sound of the old beat up wagon
wheels on the dirt road woke William from his sleep. At first,
William thought he was still dreaming a dream that was all
too real. Just like the ones his imagination loved to have him experience
every now and then. William became a little more aware and looked
around, still a little misplaced, not sure of where he was and how he
had gotten there. When his senses became clearer and more alert from
his drowsy state he realized that he was moving. He wiped the sleep
from his eyes and slowly forced his eyes into focus enough scarcely to
see the old beautiful oak and pine trees passing by. He turned his head
to the left to see Tyrone beside him with the reins in his hands. In front
of him, he saw one well-groomed horse pulling the wagon. William
literally had to pinch himself to see if he was still dreaming. When he
felt the sting from the pinch he realized he was awake.
“Wow!” William said with a notable surprise in his voice. “How long
have I been sleeping and how . . .”
Cecil interrupted him from the back of the wagon. “I am sorry; William
sir but ya plum wore your self out the other night. Sure ya ok?”
The wagon was surprisingly not from his regiment. It did not look like
a wagon the Confederates would use either. From what William could
see this wagon was one a family would have used. It was just a small old
wagon that had some broken boards on its sides and it looked like it had
definitely done its share of work in its day. William just hoped it would
hold up long enough for them to make this trip. William carefully
adjusted his position so he could see Cecil a little better. “Thank you,
Cecil for your concern but I really am feeling much better.” As a second
thought William continued, “I really fell out didn’t I?”

“Yes, sir ya did. Tyrone picked ya right on up the other night and ya
didn’t budge but to say Caroline . . . .” Cecil looked at William with
those big brown eyes full of hope and continued, “William, sir we’ll get
cha on back to her.”
William smiled. “I know we will, Cecil. But I have to tell you how
sorry I am sorry about sleeping for so long. I cannot believe I was
sleeping all this time and slept right through Tyrone carrying me to the
wagon. I guess I must have needed it, so thank you.”
William glanced over at Tyrone and told him, “I do thank you too,
Tyrone for your help. How long have we been moving?”
Tyrone snapped the reins to get the horse to pick up his walk to a trot
and said, “I don’t mind, William sir, don’t mind at all. We been on this
here road now the second night. Thought movin’ at night would be for
the best.”
William was still getting used to the deep Southern drawl of Cecil and
William and “at all” came out more like “at tawl.” William took a deep
breath and smelled the sweet smell of wild flowers and felt the humid
night air. He could not have been more grateful for the events that
occurred to save his life. He was also thankful they were all safe and
heading home, where the guns were no longer blazing. Home where
men were not dodging bullets flying by their heads and tearing into
their bodies . . . . or at least he hoped. William looked over at Tyrone
and asked “Where are we headed, Tyrone?”
“Headed north, sir on that there road not too far from that there ol’ shack
we all were held up in. Ya know the road where the wagon was a sittin’.”

“Oh good, we need to see if we came meet up with my regiment or find
a hospital. Maybe we can catch up with some of the boys on the way
to Chattanooga.”
“Chattanooga, Sir?” Tyrone asked.
“Yeah, that is where we get supplies from the rail. There is a field
hospital there as well.” William’s voice became satiated with concern
as he asked, “Has there been or have you seen anyone else yet on this
road?”
“No, sir not a soul, not a soul . . . . been quiet as the ol’ grave-yard right
there off Master Pritchfire’s plantation. It’s been kinda givin’ me the
willies I don’t mind tellin’ ya, William sir.”
“Well it is a good thing. We don’t want to run into any Confederate
soldiers. They will bring problems we are not equipped to handle at
this moment. We don’t have anything to protect ourselves and we
would most likely be plenty out numbered,” William replied to ease
Tyrone’s nerves.
Cecil touched William on the back of his arm. “That’s not altogether
true, William sir, about what ya said. Ya know about the protection,”
she said with a big bright smile on her sweet face. Her smile brightened
as she handed him a musket and his canvas and his leather bags. The
leather held his ammunition and the canvas bag had some smoked meat.
“Found two of these here muskets on the way ta get the wagon and
them bags we picked-up when we found ya,” Cecil said still holding on
to the musket.

William reached into the bag and handed both Tyrone and Cecil a
piece of the smoked meat while popping one in his own mouth. It
wasn’t much but it would do until they got to a town. William was
beginning to feel a little better but not much. He was worried if they
ran into some Confederate soldier he may not be able to protect them
even with the musket. The thought of losing another person would be
just too much to for him to handle right now.
William looked in his bag and saw his black powder was still there and
the lead musket balls were still there as well. “The ammo is still in here
so we do have some protection. Cecil, hand me the other rifle so I can
make sure it’s loaded,” he asked.
Cecil and Tyrone really did not want to run into anyone until they
were sure they were safe and Cecil was pretty handy with a musket. On
the plantation Billy had showed her how to shoot on the days his father
and brother would go into town. When she asked him why he did all
the things he did for the workers on the plantation he just told her that
it was something to brighten their days. Cecil knew better, she knew he
was trying to make up for the actions of his father and his brother but
she never said anything. She did, however, tell Billy that he was a good
man and no matter what happened to remember that.
As William was loading the rifle he noticed dawn was starting to break
over the horizon and he could see up the road a bit. It looked as if
there was a small trail leading off to the right. They could rest the
horses awhile and take a break hidden off the road from anyone who
may come by. He thought we could get some sleep and relax at least until
night falls again. William was bound and determined to make it to a
town or hospital without any incidents that would slow them down or

kill them. He was, of course, most worried about the latter of the two.
William was straining his eyes to see as far as he could, “Tyrone, you see
the small trail up there on the right?” he asked still loading the musket.
“Yes William sir, sure enough do.”
“We should be able to take it back a spell and rest until dark, don’t you
think?”
“William, Sir,” Tyrone said in a quiet voice that was unnerving. William
looked up from what he was doing and Tyrone continued, “Do you
see ’em, do you see ’em right there?” Tyrone’s voice had become more
alarmed.
“See who?” William whispered.
William strained harder to see what Tyrone was talking about and then
he saw what had Tyrone so shaken. Off in the distance he could barely
make out the outlines of two men. From what William could see it
looked like they were holding each other up as they walked down the
road ahead. As the wagon crept a little closer William could distinguish
that one of men wore a Union uniform. Cecil whispered, “They’re
wearin’ the same uniform as you and one is hurt. His leg is real bad,
real bad, William sir.”
The light from the morning dawn was becoming a little brighter and
the two silhouettes less obscure. William always wondered how it was
that the sun rising and setting went so quickly at a particular point
even though the sun hung in the sky all day long. Though none of that
really mattered at this point it was just one of those fleeting thoughts

he seemed to have. He strained his eyes to see a little further and the
taller man’s silhouette became clearer. William’s eyes began to dance
and a smile formed on his face as he realized he knew the man. It was
the silhouette of the man’s hair that gave his identity away. William
knew instantly who he was, Marcus James Fillmore.
Fillmore had the wildest hair William had ever seen. It had taken
everything in his power to not burst in to uncontrolled hysterical
laughter the first time they meant. Fillmore had the thickest darkest
black hair. His hair was literally such a deep black when the light hit
it in a certain way one would have sworn there were blue streaks in it.
The very color and thickness of his hair was strange enough but what
was more bizarre to William was the way his hair stood straight up and
out on the sides of his head. Fillmore kept the side cut short which
helped but the top still stood straight up. It reminded William of a
cat who had been threatened. He had startled a cat once and it reared
up on its toes, arched its back, and its fur stood straight up in the air.
William remembered being humored by the incident and when he had
first laid eyes on Fillmore this was the first image he thought of.
Another of his ultra-distinguishing features was his eyes. Fillmore had
big blue eyes, which were a bizarre shade of light blue. His eyes were
such a light blue at sometimes, William would have vowed they were
closer to white. The dark blue line encircling each iris made their color
more distinct and if one looked at him just right they almost glowed.
They were incredibly strange and very unique making Fillmore a more
unusual but fascinating person, if that were possible. The only time his
eyes were closer to a deeper shade of blue was when his temper would
flare up. Fillmore could light a room with his eyes when his temper
would flare. His eyes almost seemed to glow a luminous vivid blue

when he was mad. It took something sufficient for Fillmore to become
livid, he was actually fairly level headed. But went his temper was riled
people tended to stay out of his way. William had found Fillmore’s eyes
disturbing at first but he got used to them. He figured at least he would
know when to avoid Fillmore.
Once William got past Fillmore’s outrageous hair and his unusual eyes,
he noticed just how striking a man Fillmore really was. William was one
of the few men who could appreciate the exquisite things and people
in life. The men ribbed him about his admiration for the beauty he
seemed to see all around him. His nickname, Dreamer, given to him by
one of his closer friends in his unit, also came from this appreciation.
The men in his unit used to tell him that only a dreamer could be aware
of the littlest thing the way he could. William did not mind the teasing
at all. He looked upon these little jabs as the men’s way of showing
their fondness. William had noticed if there was someone they did not
care for they didn’t say much to that person and joking around never
happened with them.
Fillmore had an eccentric look, though it took a minute to get used to.
He had a square chin, which held neatly cut hair, high striking cheek
bones, and when he smiled deep pitted dimples would show themselves
in the middle of his cheeks. William, though wanting to laugh the first
time he saw the ridiculous hair, had no choice but to admire the man’s
pronounced features. When the two men got to know each other a
little better William found out Fillmore was quite the comedian. He
would always get a smile but more often then not, laughter from the
men. Fillmore may have been a joker and have an obscure way about
him but he was smart, very smart. He was truly a curly old wolf who
was tough as nails and someone you wanted to have on your side.


William called out, “Fillmore! Fillmore is that you?” his voiced was
more elevated than intended. The tall man turned around and the light
from the morning sun had risen enough William knew for sure the
man was indeed Marcus Fillmore.
“Dreamer, well I’ll be damned, is that you?” Fillmore yelled back with
the sound of relief in his voice.
Fillmore was the one who started calling him Dreamer right after they
met. Most of the men in his unit caught on to the endearing nickname
real quick. The nickname, Fillmore had told him, had to do to with his
ability retreat into his own mind. He stated he had never met a man quite
like William. He said, “To be honest, I am a little jealous that you can drift
off into some thought or fantasy. Sometimes I wish I had that ability.”
William did not mind the nickname for he knew he was a daydreamer.
Plus, there were much worse names to be called. Bruckner was the
only one who had never called him by the name Fillmore had jokingly
bestowed upon him.
Buckner said, “Yeah, that name definitely fits you Will but you will
always be William to me.”
Buckner always chuckled when one of the men would call William
Dreamer. He knew William was exactly that, a dreamer. Buckner
always seemed to have to snap William back from whatever fantasy he
happened to be in at the time. Though most of the time Buckner knew
William was, more than likely, daydreaming about Caroline.
William would answer Fillmore with a spirited, “Yeah, it is me.”


William looked at Cecil and then at Tyrone to let them both know
there was nothing to worry about. Cecil just smiled the smile women
get when they already know something. William recognized that smile
all too well and thought any man who was married would. Even men
who weren’t married would know that smile if they paid attention. Cecil
expressed her concern over the soldier with Fillmore. “William, sir, that
man there is hurt and in needs of some attention.”
Tyrone pulled the wagon on to the side trail and got out to help Fillmore
with the man who was with him. The man, who looked closer to a boy,
had been shot in the leg. William could see from the wound he was
need of attention they may not be able to give him.
However, they needed to get up into the back of the wagon for the
time being.
William saw who he was clearly, as they loaded the man into the wagon.
Kyle J. Brimmount III. Brimmount had his head in a downward position
and William could not make him out until just now. Brimmount was
only seventeen years old though many of the so called men in this war
were very young. Most of the men in William’s unit just happened to
be older and Brimmount was the youngest of the bunch. William had
wondered sometimes, why this boy would give his life at such a young
age. Brimmount had told him once if he was going to die at least it
would be for a good cause and freedom was a right all people in this
country should have.
Brimmount had a true baby face and he could still not grow hair
on. Of course, he was teased constantly about this fact. He had rich
chocolate-colored hair and the biggest brown eyes which genuinely

added to his youthful appearance. His youthfulness may have been
why everyone in the unit protected him like they had. The men in the
regiment nicknamed him “Firecracker.” The nickname was bestowed
upon him because of his outlandish disposition. Though he looked like
a boy, he had one heck of a temper and had the tendency to snap in a
second if slightly provoked. Bruckner used to say, “That kid is gonna
get himself into something he cannot get himself out of one of these
days.”
Fillmore took Brimmount under his wing. He liked Brimmount trouble
or not just like most of the other men. Fillmore was always there to get
him out of the trouble he would get himself into. However, ninety
percent of the time this meant a fight. The main problem Brimmount
had, which led to the trouble he would get himself and the others into,
was always over the women. He loved women and the women sure
did like him. Brimmount’s baby face seemed to attract women and
brought more trouble than the boy was worth. But Fillmore and others
in their unit always watched Brimmount’s carefully and were ready to
pull him out of trouble even when he started the ruckus.
One time in Tennessee Brimmount almost got himself beat to death
over a woman. However, this kind of thing happened on more than
one occasion. He also was no stranger to having a gun being shoved in
his face and obscenities screamed at him that would make most men
blush. Quite a few fights broke out over Brimmount and the women
he tended to keep company with. But no matter where he was or what
he did, the men could not let Brimmount get the shit kicked out of
him even though they should have. It was not that Brimmount could
not fight. Brimmount was quite the little scrapper, but the fights never
seemed to end up one-on-one.

For instance, Fillmore received eight stitches in the side of his head
and a nice shiner to accompany those stitches in one of the fights
that Brimmount managed to get into. The man who was spitting
fire over Brimmount and a girl he had fancied had a lot of friends.
Three of those friends went after Fillmore when he stepped in to get
a couple of the other men off Brimmount. Fillmore ended up taking
a nice wallop across the side of the head with a whiskey bottle. Yet,
when the fight was over the other men who jumped into the fight
had their share of battle scars to talk about from Fillmore, William,
and Brimmount.
William had to admit the woman was beautiful, but there was also a
man who was quite smitten with her and Brimmount should have left
her alone. William remembered the man say he was not going to let
this “baby faced son-of-bitch,” get away with messing with, what he
called, and “his woman.”
As William recalled, it was after this fight when Fillmore started to
genuinely stick by Brimmount just like a new mother would. If William
had to guess, he would say that it was to make sure Brimmount did not
get himself killed. William thought it would have been the other way
around to where Fillmore would want to go out to kill the boy himself.
After the whole mess was over Fillmore asked Brimmount about that
girl, which was a little strange for none of the rest of them ever asked
him about any of the women that seemed to get them in so much
trouble. Brimmount’s response to Fillmore was, “Well hell, Marcus,
that little Southern belle was so fine she could make a preacher cuss! I
would venture to say if she died God himself would send his angels to
bring her to heaven on a chariot.”

Fillmore laughed at this but he really could not argue with Brimmount
for the woman was quite fetching. Fillmore told William right after
this particular brawl. “Dreamer I don’t know what it is about that boy
but I have got to make sure he gets home to his family. I guess I have
just takin’ a shine to the boy.”
“Yeah he has a way about him doesn’t he?” William said, chuckling.
William was more curious about why he had specifically chosen
Brimmount so he asked, “Why him Fillmore? I mean there are many
young men here but you have chosen to watch over him like you do.”
William proclaimed, “I thought you just may wanna kick his ass clear
to the border of Texas yourself.”
“Maybe I should have but I think I’ll put that emotion on hold for
awhile. I am not sure why I chose him; he just seems to need someone
you know.” Fillmore looked up at William with that cocky little smile
and said, “Shoot, Dreamer you know you wouldn’t go after him either.”
“Yeah you may be right. But I swear when it comes to those women
that boy acts crazier than a run over yard dog.” William looked up
at Fillmore he was holding a rag to his head and his eye was already
swelling. He had to smile as he said, “To be honest with you Fillmore,
you look like you’ve been rode hard and put up wet.”
“I know that’s right, Dreamer, I know that’s right.” Fillmore laughed
out loud.
He knew William was right about the way he looked at the moment
and he was also right about the relationship between the boy and him.
William knew Fillmore’s words were true about him as well. William

knew he might have done the same thing, taking Brimmount under his
wing if Fillmore had not done so. It wasn’t like William hadn’t taken
his lumps for Brimmount on more than a couple occasions. William
thought about it and figured everyone in his unit had once or twice.
The thought of these past events made William smile. He looked at
Fillmore and with a little more than a sigh of relief said, “Fillmore, you
ol’ dog, nice to see you made it through that massacre.”
“It’s good to see you too, Dreamer but it seems our boy is not doin’ so
good,” Fillmore stated with a distinct worried tone in his voice.
“Yeah, I can see that.” William looked down at Brimmount. “Hey, kid
how are you doing? I have to say I have seen you have better days,”
William stated with a little chuckle trying to hold back the worry in
his voice.
“Awe, ya know I’ll . . . .” Brimmount let out a low moan of pain. “I’ll
be ok.”
William could not hide his concern anymore even though he wanted
to. Seeing Brimmount like this was hard to watch. The only thing that
could use to control his uneasiness was the fact Brimmount was alive.
“Tell the truth and shame the devil,” William replied when he saw the
pain in Brimmount’s face and saw his wound a little closer.
William could tell from the expression Brimmount’s face how much
pain he was actually in. William knew Brimmount’s pride was the only
thing keeping him from screaming stridently from the pain right then.

William looked down at Fillmore and saw the intense look he had
on his face. Fillmore was not just worried he was scare and William
could see it. He did not have to ask why the fear was present he knew,
Fillmore was afraid Brimmount would not pull through.
Cecil sensed his fear or maybe she just recognized it in his face, William
could not be fully sure. But whatever it was she knew and she wanted
to ease that fear. She reached over and touched Fillmore’s shoulder,
“Don’t worry I am gonna take good care of him. Just let me take a look
to see how bad that wound is.”
Cecil looked at Brimmount’s leg and saw the leg was badly infected;
the ball had torn it up pretty good.
“Is he going to be ok, can you help him?” Fillmore asked.
“Sir, don’t ya worry none, I’m gonna do my best.” Cecil looked up at
Tyrone but didn’t say a word. Tyrone just got down from the wagon
and walked into the woods.
“Tyrone,” William snapped. Tyrone stopped and looked back and
William asked, “Where you goin’?”
“I’m a gonna be right back, William, Sir, don’t ya worry.”
William looked back at Cecil as she cut Brimmount’s pants so she
could get a better look at his leg. She asked William to hand her his
canteen as she brushed Brimmount’s hair back and told him, “I’m
gonna help ya and yous gonna be alright but I’m not gonna lie this
will hurt some.”

Fillmore told Cecil to wait a minute before she began cleaning the
wound. He dug through his pack and found a piece of leather. He took
it out, folded it upon itself, and put the strap into Brimmount’s mouth.
“Hey kid you’re going to be just fine. I want you to bite down on this
when the pain comes.”
Fillmore gave Brimmount a smile but his eyes told another story. He
took Brimmount’s hand with thumb and first finger wrapped around
Brimmount’s thumb and Brimmount’s hand in the same position so he
could squeeze it at will.
Fillmore gave Cecil a nod and Brimmount said he was ready. She
poured the water over Brimmount’s wound and carefully wiped away
the dirt and dried blood. Brimmount’s body became as stiff as a board.
A teeth-clenched scream rattled from his mouth as he bit down hard
on the leather and squeezed Fillmore’s hand. As Cecil continued
to carefully clean the wound as much as she could, Brimmount’s
gut-wrenching groans filled the air. It was killing Fillmore to see and
hear the pain Brimmount was in but he stayed strong. William knew
pain and felt an instant empathy for both Brimmount and Fillmore. It
had always been hard on him to see his friends in pain or hurting for
any reason. It was as if he could actually feel every emotion they were
going through and William would lose sleep over their pain.
Though, William’s attention had been momentarily diverted with
concern over Brimmount. He still wondered why Tyrone had gone
into to the woods like he had. William asked Cecil without taken his
eyes off the two men. “Cecil, I know you are busy at the moment but
where did Tyrone go?”

“He gonna find me some things I need.”
“In the woods?” William asked and with a little more volume than
intended. Cecil just gave William a soft understanding look and went
back to helping Brimmount. However, he did not receive an answer.
William was happy to see some of the men from his unit, especially these
two. He, however, was distraught to see Brimmount in the condition
he was in. He thought about Buckner and how much he would miss
having him around and the last thing he needed right now it to lose
someone else. He was worried about Brimmount. He thought, let him
be alright. He could lose the leg or worse continue on to the next life. When
the thought crossed his mind, Cecil snapped up and gave William a
look of displeasure. William knew she heard his thoughts loud and
clear so he tried not to think about it again. He was still amazed by
Cecil’s abilities. Even though Caroline had the gift it was still a thing
of wonder to him.
Fillmore broke the tension going on between William and Cecil. He
could tell the two of them were having a moment though he had no
idea why. So to change the mood he said, “Looks like you could use
some lookin’ after too William. Where did you take a hit, William?”
“I caught one in my belly but I am fine. Cecil took real good care of
me. As a matter of fact, don’t believe I would be here right now if it
were not for Cecil and Tyrone.” William’s face changed and Fillmore
saw a distraught look of sorrow in William’s eyes as he said, “Buckner
didn’t make it though.” He looked up and met Fillmore’s eyes, “I was
right there . . . right there,” William said with his head lowered.

Fillmore felt a tingle starting to form in the depths of his stomach.
Buckner was a good friend and he knew how long William and he had
been friends. His loss was a great disappointment for all of them. “I am
sorry, Will. I know the two of you were close.”
“Like bothers,” William said softly.
Fillmore could not bear the pain in William’s face and wanted to change
the subject again to keep William’s head right. For at this moment,
Fillmore needed William to be in the right frame of mind so they
could get Brimmount the help he needed. “Where were y’all headed?”
Fillmore asked guiding William’s thoughts in another direction.
“We are trying to get back to Chattanooga, back to the rail. But I am
thinking we are going to need to get to the nearest hospital,” William said.
Fillmore thought for a moment. “Well from here, Dreamer the closest
place would be Dalton, the Ainsworth house hospital. We need to get
moving soon. I know we can make it by nightfall.”
Fillmore did not mean to sound so demanding but this was Brimmount’s
life they were dealing with. “We will get you there, Firecracker don’t
you fret,” Fillmore uttered still holding on to Brimmount’s hand as
Cecil worked on his leg.
William’s expression turned to one of apprehension as he said, “Moving
during the light of day? I’m not sure that is just a good idea.”
Fillmore slowly looked up at William and with determination in his
eyes. William had seen this look before when a young man about

Brimmount’s age froze during a battle. The boy had every right to be
scared but in Fillmore’s opinion fear will get people killed. William had
to agree with him on that point. Fillmore had grabbed the boy, not to
hurt him but to get his attention. William still remembered the look on
Fillmore’s face as he told the boy, “You shake it off boy, shake it off now.
Fear has no place in this man’s war for those who want to live.” William
would never forget how quickly that boy regained his composure and
how fast the fear left his face. Fillmore had that same look on his face
and the same tone of voice when he said, “I will not let this boy die. He
is hurt bad and you’re lookin’ a little peeked yourself. We need to get to
that hospital, William.”
At that point Tyrone came out of the woods. “Found ’em, Cecil.”
Tyrone announced making his way back to the wagon. For the first time,
Fillmore addressed the size of Tyrone almost as if he had never noticed
before. His head was wrapped up in getting Brimmount some help he
just had not noticed. His first thought was this man is a mountain. The
thought must have been a strong for he said aloud, “Good God!”
Fillmore rubbed his eye just to make sure his eyes were not playing
tricks on him. Fillmore was a little shocked at his outburst. He was
thinking it but it didn’t seem as if he had actually said it. However,
Brimmount let out an instinctive little laugh and this put Fillmore a
little more at ease. Brimmount’s reaction must have stuck something
in Fillmore bringing him back to his ol’ smart ass self because the next
thing he said made Brimmount laugh.
“You sure are a big one, aren’t cha? I sure do pity your mama my friend,”
Fillmore said with that sense of humor everyone needed right now.

Tyrone paid no mind to Fillmore. William was sure he had heard
him but he seemed to be on a mission and not even Fillmore little
jabs could distract him. He walked right to Cecil with whatever it
was he was holding in his massive hand. William looked down at his
own hand and in comparison to Tyrone’s he thought for the love of
Hanna his hand has to be twice the size of mind. When Tyrone opened
his hand to reveal what was so important to Cecil, William saw he
was holding maggots. Before William or Fillmore could say anything
Cecil said “They’ll clean the wound . . . they’ll clean his wound and
take all that there infection out ta his leg. Then I can get it wrapped
up nice and neat.”
Neither William nor Fillmore said a word in disagreement though
they gave each other a look that said they found the idea bizarre.
Plus, the very thought of maggots in a wound was utterly nauseating.
William had heard of doctor using maggots in the field but had never
seen it.
Cecil asked Tyrone to get into the back of the wagon to give her a
hand with Brimmount. Fillmore jumped down so Tyrone could take
his place. When Tyrone got into the back of the wagon William swore
the wagon sunk a foot. The back of this wagon could not have supported
another person William thought. He looked over and saw Fillmore was
just shaking his head looking down at the wheel of the wagon. William
could see he was thinking the same thing. He was just happy they had
not had rain for awhile. They would have been getting that wagon
unstuck from the mud if the rain would have come a day or two before.
William was happy it rain while he was laying in that rotted tree, as
strange a thought that may be. However the ground had time it needs
to dry out and at this moment that was a blessing.

Tyrone sat next to Brimmount whose breathing had become a little
erratic from the pain he was experiencing. Neither William nor Fillmore
would have believed what happened next if they had not been there to
witness it. They stood in awe as the watched what William called a
miracle. Tyrone put his right hand on Brimmount’s upper thigh just
above his wound and Brimmount howled in agony. Fillmore was just
about ready to start cussing him out, words William was sure would
have deafened Cecil’s ears, when Brimmount went quiet. Tyrone put his
left hand on the leg just below the wound and Brimmount’s breathing
regulated. Brimmount’s eye widened as he stumbled. “What? How?
How’d ya do that?” Brimmount asked, happy the pain was gone but a
little astonished at how it disappeared. William noticed Brimmount’s
color returned to normal, almost instantly.
Tyrone got a big smile on his face as he said, “It ain’t nothin’ sir, ain’t
nothin’ at tall.”
“But the pain . . . . the pain is gone,” Brimmount said in a bewildered
voice. “It’s gone just like that. It’s as if you sucked the pain right out of
me. How did you do that?”
Tyrone just looked at Brimmount and said, “It’s a gift sir, don’t ya
worry none it’s gone now. Ya gonna be just fine, just fine indeed.”
Brimmount looked wide-eyed at William and Fillmore and told
them he was not feeling any more pain once again, as if they had not
heard the conversation. William was not certain but he had a feeling
Brimmount was a little scared and grateful at the same time. Once
again Brimmount gasped, “It’s like he sucked it right on outtalk me.”
He was shaking his head with that little boy smile of his beaming.

Fillmore had a look of pure disbelief come over his face. He said
nothing regarding the incident nor did not ask how or why. He just
reached out his hand to Tyrone and said, “Well I’ll be . . . .” while
scratching his head. “It is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Marcus
Fillmore and the man you just worked some of that magic on is Kyle
J. Brimmount III.”
Tyrone took Fillmore’s hand and looked over at Brimmount, “Sir it be
nice ta meet ya both.”
Cecil interrupted the conversation, “Y’all can finish your
pleasantries later. Kyle still needs ta rest and ya . . .” Cecil said
looking at Fillmore. “Ya need to let me take a look at that shoulder
wound ya got there.”
A look of bewilderment and surprise came over Fillmore’s face for
he still had his sack coat on, which hid the wound. Fillmore had
wrapped the wound with cloth he had torn from his undershirt
and there was no blood showing through his coat. William was a
surprised but was beginning to understand the magnitude of Cecil’s
power. However, Fillmore was amazed Cecil would know such things
and with what Tyrone had just done for Brimmount. Well, it was all
a little overwhelming. Fillmore took off his coat and Cecil cleaned
the wound the best she could and wrapped it for him. “Ya are gonna
want to have the doc look at that when we get to town,” Cecil said
with a smile.
Fillmore looked at William and without a word, not one word, as he
jumped into the front of the wagon. “We got to get to that hospital,
Dreamer,” Fillmore said like nothing ever happened at all.

“I know, Marcus, I know,” William said with a slight smile on his face
and a pat on Fillmore’s back. Fillmore took the reins in his hands, gave
them a little snap, and they were on their way to Dalton.
As the horse pulled the heavy wagon, all of them talked about different
things just getting to know each other a little better. The ride was long
but didn’t really seem to bother anyone. Tyron and Cecil would get
out every once in awhile to walk. Cecil said she needed to get the
kinks out of her legs. Fillmore did not say much on the way to Dalton
and William did not pry. William figured Fillmore just needed some
time to process everything that had happened and to get it all right in
his own head. William knew the conversation about what Tyrone had
done would come up sooner or later and he was not going to pressure
Fillmore about it. He could understand having to spend some time
in your own head trying to make things settle when you have just
experienced something unimaginable. He knew it was a lot to digest
and he knew Fillmore well enough to know he would be just fine with
everything given time. It was obvious, Fillmore just needed to move
past the things that he once believed and make room for new ideas.
Fillmore looked at William and then looked back at the road and said,
“Dreamer, my grandfather told me once when I was very young, don’t
really know why I am remembering it now, but he said that there was
a very fine line between coincidence and fate. At that time, I was not sure
what he had meant by it but I am beginning to understand it now.”
Fillmore fell silent once again. William reached out and put his hand
on Fillmore’s shoulder. He did not say anything, just gripped Fillmore’s
shoulder to let him know he understood. William was sure Fillmore’s
thoughts were consumed with the events of the day and what he may

well face tomorrow. But for the rest of the trip Fillmore lapsed silent
with his thoughts.
Fillmore was right; the wagon pulled into the Dalton just before
nightfall hit and it was just about suppertime when the crew pulled up
in front of the Blunt house.