As time pressed on, the warring parties continued killing one and another until the War between the States brought a temporary reprieve to the hostilities. Nothing lasts forever, war or peace like everything else has a beginning and an end. Two years after the wars end the feud would begin again. In this tireless cycle of hatred and blood, a Rogers would kill a Johnstone, a Johnstone would kill a Rogers, brawls would break out, shootings, stabbings, the chaos ensued. When the sun would set on this small war, 14 men will have lost their lives. The final act is here and now. Fate being a fickle companion it is, has chosen two young men from the opposing families, Randall Rogers and Robert Johnstone, both war scarred veterans, unmarried, without family to play their part.
Around noon time that fateful day, both men were at a grocery in Elizabethton. Neither acknowledged the other and there was an uneasy feeling in the air which was pretty normal when one of the families found themselves in the vicinity of the other. To add further animosity to the fire, both men had fought on opposing sides. Before long hard looks to one and another gave way to insults filling the air, and shouting was thunderous and threats were levied out until they lunged for one another. Bystanders commenced to pulling one another off of each other, the proprietor of the business had them removed before anymore damage could happen to his store.
Friends of both men scuffled, kicked and cussed until they finally dragged the men off in two separate directions. They had hoped some distance and time apart from each others sight would cool their tempers a bit. This however, would not be the case. Both were in a particular sour mood that day, like rattlesnakes that had bitten their own lip. After a couple of hours had passed and their friends were satisfied nothing more to come from the earlier scuffle, they turned them loose.
It was around 3 o’clock in the afternoon in downtown Elizabethton and talk of the days earlier excitement had started to die down. That is, until the town folk noticed Rogers was walking down the street and to the opposite side Johnstone was walking up the street. As the two came a head at about 100 yards, both sets of eyes met each other.
Randall Rogers called out “Johnstone!” all the while Robert shouted “This ends today!”. Both men threw back their overcoats and quickly produce a set of pistols and commenced to firing, well out of accuracy range for those pistols but it didn’t matter to either participant. Step by step the hurriedly marched closer and closer, pulling back the hammer of one pistol while pulling the trigger and discharging the other pistol. Closer and closer they drew, the air was almost choking with the smell of bitter gunpowder. 20 yards, 15 yards, 10 yard, 5 yards, the possessed men drew closer, when suddenly Robert Johnstone fell to the ground with a crimson wound to his right ribcage.
Rogers walked to where Johnstone laid, his pistols relaxed by his side, he would take the moment and enjoy watching his nemesis draw his last breath. He did just that very thing, however, as Robert was mere moments from death, down to his last three breaths, he drove pure terror into the heart of Rogers as he smiled one last time, raised his pistol and discharged it’s last bullet into Randall’s cranium with effective recourse. Rogers was dead before he even knew it. Instinct had taken over as he staggered closer to Johnstone, he spoke something unintelligible, more gurgled than anything and fired his pistol twice more into the ground before giving up the ghost. Time paused for what seemed like an eternity, then Rogers fell across the lifeless body of Johnstone. Both blood soaked souls had gone to meet their ancestors about the same exact time. The feud had ended after 20 years, and 14 men later. They simply ran out of Roger’s and Johnstones to be able to continue.
I hope you enjoyed! I may eventually turn this into a body of work that is much longer, detailed etc. The Mountains are calling! Until next time. As seen in the Elizabethton Star March 18-19 edition.
Monday, March 20, 2017
Monday, March 6, 2017
Part four of a Tennessee Vendetta
Night time crept upon the Rogers household and sleep did not come easy for Williams wife. She had spent most the evening with busy work in an attempt to keep her mind preoccupied. When there was no more to be done she laid on her bed and wept silently. When sleep did finally come, it was filled with nightmares and visions of violence warnings of death. When she awoke, she sent for her brother Tom who lived just over the hill. When he arrived he found his sister in a pitiful state, her mind and talk was full of fright. He calmed her a bit and listened as she told him of her missing William. Tom reassured and said he would set out at once to fetch him back. He never let on or gave an indication that he feared the worst for.
Tom rode off on his black spotted gray horse, dirt and dust rose from the ground with each trot of his trusty steed. Once he was out of sight of the house, Tom gave the reins a hard crack and the creatures slow pace quickly set off into a frenzied gallop. His plan was to get to Elizabethton and question all he could find as to Williams last known whereabouts.
It never got to that…..Three miles down the dirt road Tom saw something out of the corner of his eye, he didn’t quite catch enough of it to fully understand what he saw, but instinct screamed danger. With a hard jerk on the reins, his horse protested while it came to a full stop. Tom was already off the weather beaten saddle and running towards a clearing in the trees that opened up to reveal the crystal clear waters of the Watauga river. What he had caught a glimpse of was Williams horse standing in about 2 foot of the river, observing it’s surroundings and every now and again lowering it’s head to fill it’s throat with the cool waters.
Tom made it to the lone horse and quickly scanned the terrain around him. He scanned and rescanned but William was nowhere to be seen. He took Williams horse back to the road where his was anxiously waiting. Tom took notice of how skittish the animals became, and was having a difficult time calming them when he spied William not more than 30 feet away. William was laying on his side, facing away from Tom. Tom hurried over, all the while calling out Williams name. Any hope quickly faded away when he reached down to turn William over to him, rigor mortis had set in and he was as stiff as a tree trunk. Tom got him rolled over and saw that a rifle ball had pierced his forehead and penetrated his brain. A dry, crusty, trail of crimson came from the wound and down his face, and under his head. Tom gathered him up and laid William across his horse for one final ride.
Tom made his way slowly back to his sister’s home, full of sorrow for her, and dread for having to deliver such news to her. The latter was somewhat spared over for him for she saw him riding back and had already came running down the path from home. The air filled with a mournful wail, followed by “Noooooooooooo, nononononono”, his eyes met hers for a brief moment before he saw her collapse to the unforgiving rocky soil.
As in all the other times in the murderous, unforgiving feud, inquires were made, investigations brought no satisfaction to the family. Local folk were full of speculation, many a accusation was thrown around as well. Some had a wild theory that Williams oldest somehow grow 5 years overnight and sought vengeance for his father’s slaying.
To the more logical however, there was another most likely theory on who was the killer.
It would be two years passed before light finally exposed the truth. On one particularly dreadful, stormy day, in Elizabethton, a familiar and shadowy figure sat in a dim light corner of the local tavern. This man had drank pint after pint of Apple Jack and his tongue talked rather loosely. He claimed he had killed William and had found tremendous satisfaction knowing he had sent him to meet his no account, murdering father. One citizen claimed when they got close enough and their eyes adjusted to the low light, everything at once made since. He remembered…..When the elder Johnstone was gunned down in cruelty, he had two sons, James the older became the father’s avenger. Now his brother had come home and set right (in his mind anyway) the untimely and violent end to James.
Time to go! Mountains are calling and the final installment is next week!
Tom rode off on his black spotted gray horse, dirt and dust rose from the ground with each trot of his trusty steed. Once he was out of sight of the house, Tom gave the reins a hard crack and the creatures slow pace quickly set off into a frenzied gallop. His plan was to get to Elizabethton and question all he could find as to Williams last known whereabouts.
It never got to that…..Three miles down the dirt road Tom saw something out of the corner of his eye, he didn’t quite catch enough of it to fully understand what he saw, but instinct screamed danger. With a hard jerk on the reins, his horse protested while it came to a full stop. Tom was already off the weather beaten saddle and running towards a clearing in the trees that opened up to reveal the crystal clear waters of the Watauga river. What he had caught a glimpse of was Williams horse standing in about 2 foot of the river, observing it’s surroundings and every now and again lowering it’s head to fill it’s throat with the cool waters.
Tom made it to the lone horse and quickly scanned the terrain around him. He scanned and rescanned but William was nowhere to be seen. He took Williams horse back to the road where his was anxiously waiting. Tom took notice of how skittish the animals became, and was having a difficult time calming them when he spied William not more than 30 feet away. William was laying on his side, facing away from Tom. Tom hurried over, all the while calling out Williams name. Any hope quickly faded away when he reached down to turn William over to him, rigor mortis had set in and he was as stiff as a tree trunk. Tom got him rolled over and saw that a rifle ball had pierced his forehead and penetrated his brain. A dry, crusty, trail of crimson came from the wound and down his face, and under his head. Tom gathered him up and laid William across his horse for one final ride.
Tom made his way slowly back to his sister’s home, full of sorrow for her, and dread for having to deliver such news to her. The latter was somewhat spared over for him for she saw him riding back and had already came running down the path from home. The air filled with a mournful wail, followed by “Noooooooooooo, nononononono”, his eyes met hers for a brief moment before he saw her collapse to the unforgiving rocky soil.
As in all the other times in the murderous, unforgiving feud, inquires were made, investigations brought no satisfaction to the family. Local folk were full of speculation, many a accusation was thrown around as well. Some had a wild theory that Williams oldest somehow grow 5 years overnight and sought vengeance for his father’s slaying.
To the more logical however, there was another most likely theory on who was the killer.
It would be two years passed before light finally exposed the truth. On one particularly dreadful, stormy day, in Elizabethton, a familiar and shadowy figure sat in a dim light corner of the local tavern. This man had drank pint after pint of Apple Jack and his tongue talked rather loosely. He claimed he had killed William and had found tremendous satisfaction knowing he had sent him to meet his no account, murdering father. One citizen claimed when they got close enough and their eyes adjusted to the low light, everything at once made since. He remembered…..When the elder Johnstone was gunned down in cruelty, he had two sons, James the older became the father’s avenger. Now his brother had come home and set right (in his mind anyway) the untimely and violent end to James.
Time to go! Mountains are calling and the final installment is next week!
Wednesday, March 1, 2017
Part 3 of a Tennessee Vendetta
The die had been cast and the cycle had begun, what started was an argument had become a blood feud. Rogers the dishonorable had killed a good man Johnstone. The son of the fallen became James the Avenger and returned the favor. Now the mantle of vengeance would fall upon William Rogers who in turn, would become the Reckoning.
William and James grew into young men and their families flourished and multiplied. Relationships were fostered and both had their fill of bonds of friendships and loyalties. Those friends in turn would grow to resent the other party of the feud and would take their hand at spiting one another. Random acts of vandalism, threats, & violence, would breakout in streets of town, and on the home front.
For a short time, there was a brief respite in the hostilities. Anyone not associated with the history of the warring parties would have thought that perhaps the madness had come to an end. The respite however, was nothing more than a rouse. One that would lure James into a false sense of tranquility and peace.
One morning, William arose and readied himself for the day. Without uttering a word to his family, grabbed his father’s rifle (that had killed the elder Johnstone in the first place) and mounted his horse and rode away as if he was doing nothing more than going for a hunt. This façade wasn’t a full out lie, he was going to hunt, but his prey was not to be any other creature than James Johnstone. William and his friends had used this time of peace to spy on James and learn his daily routine, most importantly, when he was alone. He had several relatives and friends who would come by, and more often than none, the numbers didn’t fare well for Rogers.
William, like James, had figured the Sabbath was the best time for his course of calamity. James would be up early and down by a shallow lull in the river, gathering buckets of water. This morning would be no different than the others. James was punctual with his arrival at the river and was quietly observing the light fog that rose from the cool waters. The quiet moment was abruptly shattered when a gunshot rang out, the shot went wild and splintered a branch overhead. James looked in the direction of the sound and saw a billow of smoke as a second shot echoed across the river. James was quickly backing up and was turning to run when he saw William and his two friends (they were brothers of mean reputation) galloping on horseback across the river. James drew his pistol and fired two shots at William, neither finding their intended mark, but was able to wing one of the brothers, prompting him to lose his courage, causing him to fall from his horse into the river waters.
William and the other had reared back to check on the other. James heard him yell out “Im fine, go git em!!” If anything else was said, James wasn’t around to hear it, he had made it to his horse. A short minute later has was coming off of his steed before it even stopped, William was shortly behind giving chase, firing his father’s rifle all the while. James burst through the door and screamed at his family to get down on the floor. He fetched his rifle and fired a few quick shots out the front door, he couldn’t see them, it was more of a desperate attempt at hopefully killing them blindly.
It was quiet again, James was slowly going window to window, looking for any sign of them and to gain a vantage point. He had just crossed the dining area when the front door kicked open. James spun and fired off a volley of lead at the empty doorway when outside a lone gunshot rang out, the window glass broke, James clutched his chest, took a few steps forward and was dead before he hit the kitchen table.
William and friend rode off quickly to gather their wounded and make their getaway. The family hadn’t seen them and James, well, dead men tell no tales, so they made their escape successfully. Made no difference though, the community wasn’t filled with idiots and fools. No one had a doubt who had committed this murder. William scoffed that he had no hand in what transpired. Someone else, however, knew the better. That someone would wait for his moment for revenge, and revenge they shall have.
Time had passed, and again a false sense of security had spread across the families minds and spirits. One morning William kissed his wife on the cheek, and told her he was going to ride into Elizabethton. It was a bit of a ride round trip, so his wife wasn’t particularly worried when he was late for supper. She was nervous, but not worried, she remained calm while every so often, she would visually scan the roadside, expecting him to come trodding up any moment. That calm melted away into worry when sunset came. Then worry became dread as her husband had not returned as the midnight hours tolled by.
Thanks for reading, part 4 next week! The mountains call again!
William and James grew into young men and their families flourished and multiplied. Relationships were fostered and both had their fill of bonds of friendships and loyalties. Those friends in turn would grow to resent the other party of the feud and would take their hand at spiting one another. Random acts of vandalism, threats, & violence, would breakout in streets of town, and on the home front.
For a short time, there was a brief respite in the hostilities. Anyone not associated with the history of the warring parties would have thought that perhaps the madness had come to an end. The respite however, was nothing more than a rouse. One that would lure James into a false sense of tranquility and peace.
One morning, William arose and readied himself for the day. Without uttering a word to his family, grabbed his father’s rifle (that had killed the elder Johnstone in the first place) and mounted his horse and rode away as if he was doing nothing more than going for a hunt. This façade wasn’t a full out lie, he was going to hunt, but his prey was not to be any other creature than James Johnstone. William and his friends had used this time of peace to spy on James and learn his daily routine, most importantly, when he was alone. He had several relatives and friends who would come by, and more often than none, the numbers didn’t fare well for Rogers.
William, like James, had figured the Sabbath was the best time for his course of calamity. James would be up early and down by a shallow lull in the river, gathering buckets of water. This morning would be no different than the others. James was punctual with his arrival at the river and was quietly observing the light fog that rose from the cool waters. The quiet moment was abruptly shattered when a gunshot rang out, the shot went wild and splintered a branch overhead. James looked in the direction of the sound and saw a billow of smoke as a second shot echoed across the river. James was quickly backing up and was turning to run when he saw William and his two friends (they were brothers of mean reputation) galloping on horseback across the river. James drew his pistol and fired two shots at William, neither finding their intended mark, but was able to wing one of the brothers, prompting him to lose his courage, causing him to fall from his horse into the river waters.
William and the other had reared back to check on the other. James heard him yell out “Im fine, go git em!!” If anything else was said, James wasn’t around to hear it, he had made it to his horse. A short minute later has was coming off of his steed before it even stopped, William was shortly behind giving chase, firing his father’s rifle all the while. James burst through the door and screamed at his family to get down on the floor. He fetched his rifle and fired a few quick shots out the front door, he couldn’t see them, it was more of a desperate attempt at hopefully killing them blindly.
It was quiet again, James was slowly going window to window, looking for any sign of them and to gain a vantage point. He had just crossed the dining area when the front door kicked open. James spun and fired off a volley of lead at the empty doorway when outside a lone gunshot rang out, the window glass broke, James clutched his chest, took a few steps forward and was dead before he hit the kitchen table.
William and friend rode off quickly to gather their wounded and make their getaway. The family hadn’t seen them and James, well, dead men tell no tales, so they made their escape successfully. Made no difference though, the community wasn’t filled with idiots and fools. No one had a doubt who had committed this murder. William scoffed that he had no hand in what transpired. Someone else, however, knew the better. That someone would wait for his moment for revenge, and revenge they shall have.
Time had passed, and again a false sense of security had spread across the families minds and spirits. One morning William kissed his wife on the cheek, and told her he was going to ride into Elizabethton. It was a bit of a ride round trip, so his wife wasn’t particularly worried when he was late for supper. She was nervous, but not worried, she remained calm while every so often, she would visually scan the roadside, expecting him to come trodding up any moment. That calm melted away into worry when sunset came. Then worry became dread as her husband had not returned as the midnight hours tolled by.
Thanks for reading, part 4 next week! The mountains call again!
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