Chapter 2

Jonas was sitting in a saddle and the horse under him shifted slightly to give him a better position. He looked around in confusion. He was hot, dirty and thirsty. He looked down at himself and saw his duster opened to display three pistol grips. He knew of at least three more pistols that were strapped to his body plus two more holstered on the saddle along with his rifle. In addition to the fire power arrayed about his person, Jonas was aware of several knives strapped to his body. Three men were lined up in front of him and he could tell by their yellow-black aura's that they were bad men. He could see another aura in the rocks to his right where another man was hiding and trying to watch them through a bush. "A good use of the aura," Jonas thought. "Seeing where and what kind of person might be in hiding can be real handy."

Behind him and to his left was a black girl. Her name was Han Jackson and she was dressed similar to Jonas. Jonas knew that wasn't her real name but it was as close as she could get to saying her name without a tongue. Jonas knew the girl had more guns and knives strapped to her body and rig. She had proven over the last five years that she could use them too. And that thought brought the memories of Ben Lewis crashing home in his mind.

Jonas WAS Ben Lewis.

Ben Lewis was raised in the foothills of Tennessee. His mother and father made sure there were always books around and Ben learned to read at an early age. Ben had been 25 years old when he joined the Tennessee volunteers under General Jackson in April, 1861. His wife, Nancy, was left behind to care for their little farm and his son. Ben's brother James Lewis had stayed behind because James couldn't go to war. He had a bad leg from a black bear attack when he was 14. His lurching strides were fine for farming but would never work for a soldier.

Three and a half years later Ben's company was retreating through Tennessee ahead of a Union advance. General John Hood's messages had been disrupted by Yankee guerilla fighters that had infiltrated the confederate lines. The battle lines were confused without clear instructions from the General and the entire Confederate line was crumbling. The battle had deteriorated into individual groups fighting where ever they found the enemy. The 23 men that were left of Ben's company arrived at what was left of Ben's farm just a few hours after a Union contingent had swept through the area. James, Ben's brother, was nailed to the still smoldering barn door. It looked like James had been used for target practice by the Yankees. Ben's home had been torched but by some good fortune, or bad, the bedroom with his dead wife and son had not burned. His wife's and son's throat were cut and it was quite apparent his wife had suffered a brutal rape and a beating before the mercy of death was granted. Ben went a little crazy that day and for the rest of the war every live union soldier that fell into his hands died a very hard death.

Sergeant Ben Lewis escaped with the nine men left in his squad after General Hood's forces were decimated by General Thomas's Union forces at Nashville. Ben figured the Union forces were pushing farther south so convinced the men with him to go west and north. They joined with Captain Bill Anderson north of the Ozarks in Missouri and traveled with him west towards Kansas. Ben spent the next year with Captain Anderson and his men raiding into Kansas. Bloody Bill Anderson was an apt name for the Captain because of his vicious attacks on civilian Union sympathizers as well as Union Soldiers. He didn't take prisoners and anyone unlucky enough to be captured welcomed death by the time they were allowed to die.

Ben knew the war was a lost cause by the end of 1864. Captain Anderson was killed in October by a Union ambush and Ben continued with the remnants of the band under Archie Clement. By May of 1865 the war was all but over. President Davis had been captured and General Lee was negotiating his surrender to General Grant. Ben was bothered more and more by the actions of the men under Captain Clement as he was calling himself. They weren't just targeting Union soldiers and known Union partisans. They were going after anyone in their path that had something they wanted. That included money, horses, cattle, equipment and women. Ben was looking for a way out. He was considering just riding away and heading west when the scouting squad he was part of rode into a rundown farm near Shoal Creek in eastern Kansas.

Jake Hobbs was the squad leader of the scouting mission. He called himself a Lieutenant but he really wasn't even a soldier. Jake was simply a brutally vicious man that discovered that he could do just about anything he wanted as a soldier with Bloody Bill Anderson and no one would say different. Jake's cruelty seemed to blossom even more under Clement after Captain Anderson was killed. Jake Hobbs was a huge man of 6'4" and he weighed almost three hundred pounds. A lot of that weight was in Jake's arms and shoulders though no part of his body was small. He carried a thick oak club on his saddle that he used to brain anyone that didn't need a bullet. A few men started calling Jake by the nickname Bull after a pitched battle with union soldiers. Jake ran out of bullets and charged into the soldiers swinging his oak club. The soldiers broke and ran from the huge maniac with the club. Jake also liked to use a knife heated to a glowing red to cut off pieces of captives while they were still alive as part of his questioning technique. Jake laughingly explained that he didn't want his captives to bleed to death during his interrogation. They weren't allowed to die until he said they could. The hot knife cauterized the cut as the evil man cut off pieces of his victim's body parts. The big man eventually killed most of his victims but sometime liked to leave them alive. Jake said the ones he left alive were like a living memorial to his skill. The dead ones were considered the lucky ones.

The six man squad rode into the farm yard at full speed with their trilling rebel yells and firing their pistols like they usually did. Their method caused panic and it helped prevent immediate organization for resistance being formed. The display wasn't needed on the little run down farm though. There was only a woman, a younger boy about eleven or twelve years old and a black girl on the farm. The towheaded boy reminded Ben of his son and would have been about the same age. The towheaded boy was running towards the house yelling for his mom when Jake Hobbs rode him down and caved in the side of the boy's head with his oak club. Ben was frozen when he saw the boy go down. The boy's eyes were already glazing in death when he hit the ground but their dead gaze seemed to lock on Ben accusingly. A woman ran out of the house screaming the boy's name. The woman's long red-gold hair reminded Ben so much of his wife that it caused his gut to clinch. The world seemed to lurch around Ben at the sight of her. A black girl only a few years older than the boy followed the woman out the door crying and screaming. Jake swung down from the saddle and grabbed the woman around the waist as she tried to reach her dead son.

"We don't need to scout any more today boys," Jake called with a whoop. "It looks like we'll have some fun before we head back to camp."

The image of Ben's wife seemed to overlay Ben's vision. He saw her lying on their bed in a pool of blood. All the things he had done since joining Bloody Bill crashed into his mind and the memories coalesced into the image of his dead wife and son. He knew what was going to happen to this woman and he couldn't allow that to happen.

"No," Ben said swinging down from his horse. "Not this time Jake." He faced his squad leader. "These women aren't the enemy."

Jake spun towards Ben with a snarl and spat out, "They're the enemy if I say they are boy. Now you don't have to join in but we're taking our pleasure from this fine Union lady and her servant." He turned away from Ben and ripped the woman's bodice down the front.

"No," Ben said loud enough to be heard over the woman's and the black girl's screams. "You have to stop right now," Ben ordered as he reached for a gun.

Jake turned toward him again and saw Ben's hand on one of his pistols. He nodded towards one of the men behind Ben. Ben felt more than heard the bullet that hit his back. He didn't feel the pain of the bullet that slammed into his body. It was more like being kicked by a mule and it knocked him down. Ben landed on his side and rolled when he hit the ground. He saw the smoking gun in the hand of Frank Parsons and he saw the twisted grin on Frank's face. Frank Parsons wasn't his friend and both of them always knew it was only a matter of time before the two of them settled their differences. Frank dismounted with the other men but he paused beside Ben to look down. The other men rushed towards the women.

"I guess you aren't hot shit any longer are you Ben?" Frank asked softly. He raised his pistol and cocked it to shoot Ben in the head.

"Don't waste a bullet on him," Jake said laughing crudely as he grabbed the back of the black girls dress and ripped it off. "He'll bleed out quick enough Frank. You just earned yourself first pick and first go at these fine ladies. Which do you want first?"

Frank laughed and said, "It's not wasting a bullet. It's one of the benefits of riding with you." The black girl broke away from Jake and caromed off of Frank just before he fired. Ben saw a flash of light and the world jolted around him but he could still see. He watched as Frank holstered his pistol before wrapping one arm around the struggling black girl. "I'll have a go at the nigger girl Jake. She probably ain't been touched yet so I can break her in right," Frank said laughing.

Ben's fading vision watched Frank's boots walking away from him with the black girl flailing in his arms. He witnessed the other men swarming around both women as they ripped clothes away and grabbed whatever they could reach. Both women were fighting back with everything they had but they were no match for the big rough men holding them.