Cullen Bohannon had never considered himself a violent man. The war changed that just as it changed everything else in his life.

He thought the battlefield carnage was the worst thing that he'd ever witness. Seeing legs and arms blown off by cannon fire, heads severed or crushed, blood everywhere mixed with disemboweled organs and mud was gruesome. The smell was something he'd never be able to completely cleanse, no matter how many times he washed or how much liquor he drank.

He believed that life could get no meaner until he'd come home and found her.

The few days leave he'd managed to get approved barely gave him time to make it home, spend a night and then get back to his regiment. He rode hard and fast, the anticipation of holding her again making the journey longer and slower than it had any right to be. Upon reaching the yard, he jumped from the horse, barely stopping to loop the reins over the post.

"Darlin'," he called out hoarsely, "Darlin' I'm home." The sound of a silent house was his only greeting.

He noticed then that the rooms were disturbed, furniture and his wife's beloved bric a brac were overturned and broken. He pulled his gun and continued moving through the house, only now he was as silent as a cat and alert for any hint of danger. The downstairs was clear and there was no sign of anyone outside. He moved upstairs and that is where his world collapsed.

She hung, swaying slightly side to side, from a rope thrown over a beam. Her clothes were ripped. Her face was bloodied. Her skirt had been slashed open and torn. He doubled over in pain from the blow of the sight before him. Quickly, he moved to the chair and held her close while he cut the rope. Her full weight fell against him.

He slumped to the floor holding her cold battered body. He didn't realize he was crying until the tears dripped onto her eyes which stared lifelessly up at him. With trembling fingers, he gently closed them for the last time. For hours he sat and rocked her broken body. Nothing else existed for him outside the space they inhabited.

Sometime later, Cullen was unsure of how long, he heard a familiar voice, "Mr. Bohannon, suh, let her go now. Let Eula take her now. She'll take care of her." It was James.

James and his wife Eula had been his slaves until a few years ago. They'd been passed on to him from his father. He'd freed them and now paid them a wage to help oversee the place while he was away. James had been like an older brother or uncle to him as he grew up. James had always been around to take care of him and he trusted the man like family. Cullen raised his eyes slowly and took in the sight of the man before him.

James had been beaten pretty badly. One eye was swollen shut. His lip was split. Bruises covered his head and neck and his overalls had blood spatters all down the front. He'd fought whoever had done this.

Eula stepped in quietly and eased his wife's body from his arms. The removal of her weight left him feeling slightly dizzy for a moment. He reached to pull her back. "I got her Mr. Bo. I promise you I got her. Nobody's gone hurt her now, not ever again," Eula whispered until he relented and let go.

He stood shakily and felt James' arm supporting him. "What happened, James? Who did this?"" he asked.

James choked back a sob, "It was bluebacks, suh. Five men. They was drunk when they rode in, said they was in need of compney and wanted to visit with the female slaves. Mrs. Bohannon, she tole 'em that they weren't no slaves here on this farm, that they'd all been freed. She tole 'em that Eula would fix 'em some food, but they'd have to go after that. They was set on evil, though, Mr. Bo. They said thangs to her that no man ought to say in front of decent women. I tried to fight 'em. The big man knocked me out. They tied me and Eula up and locked us in the smokehouse. We just got free. I swear to God, Mr. Bo, I woulda died protectin' her if I could."

Cullen placed a hand on James' shoulder, "I know that James. This ain't your fault. Did you hear any of their names, see a regiment number, anything to identify 'em?"

"Two of 'em was wearing officer stripes and they was a 23 on the saddles. I heard one man call the big man Johnson. That's all I know, Mr. Bo. That's all I know. We need to call the law, let 'em know what happened," James told him.

"No, I'm gon take care of this. We ain't getting the law involved. They gon pay for what they done to her. I will hunt them down if it takes me the rest of my days and I will make sure they know whose name is on the bullet that stops their heart," Bohannon swore.

James looked at him as if seeing a stranger, "No, Mr. Bo. You cain't throw your life away. You try to take them men down and you'll hang. She wouldn't want that."

"I got no life now, James. We gon bury her and I'm leavin'. Far as I'm concerned you and Eula can keep the farm or leave. It don't matter cause I ain't comin' back. This life is over," Cullen told him.

He walked back downstairs and took the whiskey decanter off the sideboard. He drank four long swallows directly from the bottle before collapsing onto the nearest chair. He didn't sleep or at least he didn't think he had. He stared straight ahead and played the scene out is his mind over and over again. Watching it unfold as the men rode up and then proceeded to brutally attack his wife, leaving her so broken that she felt she couldn't live with the shame. It stoked the fire within him. The world around him lost all color except for one – red, the red of their blood as it drained slowly from their bodies.

Eula did what she could to make his wife look like herself again. She put her in a dress of sky blue, the color of her eyes. He and James built a box for her and lined it with flowers from all over the yard, roses, peonies, daisies and queen anne's lace. They buried her under the cool shade of the pecan trees. Cullen built a small cross for the marker but James promised he'd carve a bigger one, a sturdier one.

He did not shed another tear as they covered the casket with dirt. He thanked James and Eula and went directly to saddle his horse and rode out immediately. It was time to make the bastards pay and he wasn't gonna waste another minute.

The 23rd Calvary was part of Sherman's group. He'd seen 'em before and heard the horror stories of what they'd done. They were devils and he planned on giving them their due.

"And I looked and behold, a pale horse,

And his name that sat on him was Death

And Hell followed with him."

(from When the Man Comes Around by Johnny Cash)