1865

Sully sprawled upon the cliffside overlooking the enemy encampment, waiting for the Confederate Major to make his appearance. He had spent three long days waiting for just the right moment to take the shot that would end his enemy's threat to the Union Army putting a successful ent to the Civil War.

The Confederate camp was bustling with early morning activity as infantrymen readied horses, while others finished breakfast, packed equipment, and tore down tents. Sully realized that he had to take the shot today or he might now have another opportunity to carry out his orders.

A robust man in his undershirt and gray unform slacks walked into view of his scope. As his target stepped up to a mirror hanging from a tree, to shave, Sully's hand tightened on his rifle.

He peered through the scope, adjusting his aim a quarter inch, and pulled the trigger. Sully watched as his bullet made impact with his opponent's meaty flesh. The man collapsed to the ground as shouts of alarm, augmented by the shrill sound of a woman's screams.

Sully watched with a sickening realization that his target had been a family man. A woman came running into view, crying hysterically, and threw herself on the prone man on the ground. A young boy and girl joined their mother, as a sea of gray and butternut uniforms surrounded them.

Guilt flooded through Sully as he made a hasty departure from the area. He had killed other men before this one, but those deaths had occurred in battle while he was fighting for his life. This was a different though; this man hadn't been trying to kill him. Hell, he hadn't even been holding a weapon on him. The fact that he had achieved a successful outcome to orders given to him, didn't lessen his guilt over ending the life of an unarmed man.