"Sept. 29, 1863 - near Jasper, Tenn. Along Anderson Pike. Yesterday we took 900 - 1,000 of Rosecran's supply wagons on their way from Nashville to Chattanooga. What a blaze. We rounded up some of the Yankees. Had to dispose of most of the wagon teams. A hard business, putting those creatures down. We kept a couple hundred of the best. Rough skirmish with Union troopers at Fayetteville's fine Elk River Bridge. We stopped them. They high tailed it back. Bridge safe. Safe for both sides. We made it across north Alabama to Chattanooga. Chased hard, but successful on our raid of Old Rosey."
He closed his notebook and looked to the tree line to the west. The blue sky was clear and rested on the green/brown distant ridge.
He thought as he soaked in some of life's beauty, "the Field boys said their father and brother was murdered about then up that way by Yankee raiders? Stole their mules, too." He wondered if any of those mules they saved and brought along to north Alabama had belonged to the kids' family.
The mockingbird flew across, above his head, husband and wife, to a nest with two eggs. Both sang as if celebrating supper and home.