Loaded Guns and Broken Fences [On Hold]

Prologue

Central Illinois, 1864


Brandon and John had been sent to bed at least an hour ago. They'd stayed awake talking about the new calves they would get to help their father round up in the morning. At ten and twelve, being allowed to lend a hand in the mens' jobs was a big deal.

Their enthusiastic banter had gradually softened. But as they both began to nod off, their mother threw open the door and ushered them into the main room.

They scurried out of bed so fast in their alarm, that they were tripping and fumbling over each other. They didn't even have time to grab their boots. Stunned and disoriented, neither of them uttered a word.

Their father had loaded his gun and was heading to the front door, placing his hat on his head as he went.

In her nightgown, their mother rushed to blow out the lamps while their younger sister clung to her leg. Rushing her three children into a corner, she threw her arms around them. Brandon rose onto his tiptoes, trying to peer past his mother and out the front window.

Lanterns were casting an orange glow on the trees outside, and on the front porch with a rifle in hand, stood their father. It was hard to tell who the intruders were or why their voices were rising so vehemently. But Brandon saw the shifting of shadowed forms just before John got in the way.

A single deadly shot quelled the commotion, and everything became a blur.

There was more shouting, and suddenly they were running down the path outside. He hadn't noticed their mother wasn't with them until there was a blood-chilling scream from behind. John desperately urged him forward into the darkness.

They were woken by their uncle when he found them on the porch of his farmhouse--across the river and miles away from home.

Howdy!

This is a rough draft. So, if you have any critiques or feedback, please comment! It will help us tremendously with editing and we'd greatly appreciate it! Thanks for reading!

-Alix & Nick