Clinton Jackson

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Martha Jackson absently hung laundry on the twine hung between the two old apple trees. It was too early in the year for apples but the branches had started to have blossoms. The wind gently blew between the branches mixing the sweet smell of apple with the smoke from her father’s twin Colts. She watched as he carefully reloaded the pistols, one knee placed on the damp soil. Her son intently watched, she saw her father nod as if in answer to a question. The boy was full of questions, seemingly to never end. She thanked the Lord for his diligence in caring for the boys need to learn to be a Man. James Jackson had died at the start of the war. It had to end soon… Martha smile had quickly vanished as she realized that if it didn’t end soon, her son would be pulled in as well.

Clinton Jackson

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