Doc Holliday's Road to Tombstone: The Life and Times of John Henry Holliday

By Tom Barnes

John Henry Holliday steps off the train at Atlantas Union Station, fresh out of the Pennsylvania Dental College, and into Matties arms. But the storybook romance between the young dentist and his cousin is cut short by disease and family strife.
Some close relatives are grousing at the couple to break off their relationship, but they are unwilling to bow to family pressures. However his financial reverses and physical health conspire to make that happen. John Henry is diagnosed with tuberculosis and doctors suggest a dryer climate in the West. Mattie pleads to go with him but John Henry says no and travels to Dallas alone.
The dry climate stabilizes his condition, but he is unable to make a living from his dental practice. Dispirited and alone he is eventually attracted to saloon life where he takes a new name and calling -- Doc Holliday -- frontier gambler.
Kate Elder, a spunky little saloon girl, sets her sights on Doc. And when trouble comes at Ft. Griffin and a noose is about to be tied around Docs neck Kate executes a daring escape plan and the two ride north, through Indian territory, to Dodge City, Kansas.
Doc sets up a dental practice in the cattle town and becomes acquainted with the likes of Wyatt Earp, Bat Masterson, Luke Short and Eddie Foy. When a wild bunch of drunken cowboys corner Wyatt Earp Doc hurries to his rescue with a 38 in one hand and a 44 in the other. That moment was the beginning of a lifelong friendship. Wyatt Earp would never forget that day at Dodge City when Doc Holliday using courage and grit saved his life.
Docs tenuous relationship with Kate dragged along simply because he was beholden to her for saving him from the hangmans noose at Ft. Griffin. Their tumultuous relationship continued though as they follow the migration of the Dodge City crowd south to Tombstone, Arizona.
A corrupt political ring backs the cowboy-outlaw faction with the complicity of the Cochise County Sheriff. Doc has friends in both camps, but joins Wyatt and his brothers on the side of law and order, where his courage and loyalty are once again tested, when he stands with the Earps, in the shootout, at the Ok Corral.
Doc survives the gunfight, but death from tuberculosis is never far away. Mattie, desperate in her loneliness, writes that she had become a nun, and with those vows has taken a new name -- Sister Mary Melanie. Doc is stung by the news, but he is quick to realize that it was his own neglect that had placed Mattie in the nunnery. He is fully aware that his days are numbered, but he never wavers in his love for the girl back home.
Following Docs death Wyatt Earp spoke of his friend and said, Doc was the most skillful gambler and the speediest, deadliest man with a six-gun I ever knew.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 8, 2005
• ISBN: 9781450045711

Tom Barnes

Tom Barnes grew up in the South. He studied English literature, history and drama at Middle Georgia College and the Pasadena Playhouse. His military service was spent in naval aviation as a member of an elite patrol squadron known as the Hurricane Hunters. Following his hitch in the navy Tom went to New York in pursuit of a career in theater and writing. He was hired by PBS as host narrator and writer for the TV Series “Georgia’s Heritage.” During the final episode of that series Tom had his first brush with the Western Legend, Doc Holliday.

Book preview

Doc Holliday’s Road to Tombstone

_________________________________________

The Life and Times of John Henry Holliday

Tom Barnes

Copyright © 2005 by Tom Barnes.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Doc Holliday’s Road to Tombstone is a novel, using real and imaginary people, that opens just as the American Civil War is coming to a close. It’s a story of passion and deceit, loyalty and adventure—beginning in the Old South and later playing out on the Western Frontier.

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Contents

Acknowledgements

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty One

Twenty Two

Twenty Three

Twenty Four

Twenty Five

Twenty Six

Twenty Seven

Twenty Eight

Twenty Nine

Thirty

Thirty One

Thirty Two

Thirty Three

Thirty Four

Thirty Five

Thirty Six

Thirty Seven

Thirty Eight

Thirty Nine

Forty

Forty One

Forty Two

Forty Three

Forty Four

Forty Five

Forty Six

Author’s Notes

Acknowledgements

Susan McKey Thomas of Valdosta, Georgia, and a relative of Doc Holliday’s, introduced me to the legend. It was Susan’s passion for the subject that interested me and inspired me to begin my own research that eventually led me to write the novel, Doc Holliday’s Road to Tombstone.

But passion alone does not make a novel. In my case it took the assistance of many others to accomplish the task. Dianna Johnson, Millie Grey, Jean Akers and Connie Bravo read the work as it progressed, then encouraged and kept me on track.

The courtesy and help from personnel at the Los Angeles Central Library cannot be overstated.

Thanks to the personnel at the Atlanta Archives, Atlanta Historical Society and ditto’s to the Arizona Historical Society in Phoenix, Arizona.

Mr. John Whittock, at the University of Pennsylvania Library in Philadelphia, kindly provided us with Doc’s dental college records.

The people at the Spaulding County Court Annex in Griffin, Georgia were very generous with their time in pointing to old record books and documents, as was the County Clerk’s office.

To the Dodge City, Kansas newspapers, past and present, the Dodge City Library System and the Kansas Heritage Center—thank you.

And of course without the city of Tombstone there would be no story. The Chamber of Commerce and other citizens of Tombstone have been very helpful. Also the two newspapers of record during the 1880’s provided material. The Tombstone Epitaph and the Tombstone Nugget.

One

It’s seldom good news when your phone rings at 5:30 in the morning, but I yawned and picked up on the third ring. I was awake just enough to resent the intrusion and growled something into the speaker.

Bobby, a small voice said from the other end of the line. Bobby Anderson?

I recognized the Southern accent. Perk?

You must not have a hang over—you got me on the first try.

Don Perkins and I had once worked on a documentary film together and maintained a close relationship although we didn’t see each other that often. Why the early call?

Lucy Caldwell, the journalist, said she wants to talk to you.

Oh. About what? I asked as I propped up on one elbow.

I have an idea it’s about an old Holliday manuscript her grandfather wrote.

Is she aware of my research on the subject?

Can’t answer that, Bobby.

I hesitated for a long moment. Maybe I’m getting cynical, but how many times do I have to go chasing after another piece of that elusive Doc Holliday puzzle only to find myself at another dead end. But even as I hesitated I knew I wouldn’t quit before I found some answers. I guess Perk got anxious and finally coughed and said, Well?

Oh, I suppose I’ll listen, but why me?

She’s a fan of yours.

A fan?

Yeah, remember that old historical series you did?

Uh huh, I figured that would come back to bite me some day. But go ahead, it’s your nickel.

Don Perkins filled me in on the particulars and told me I’d get expenses, I protested and said that was not necessary, but he said she was adamant. I told him ok if she insists. Several years ago, while producing a series of historical documentaries, we had filmed a segment about Doc Holliday, but it never aired. That was my first brush with the legend. The character and the era interested me, however it was several years before the idea took hold and I made a commitment to the project.

I went to the downtown Los Angeles library to begin preliminary research on the man, got hooked on the subject and began to look beyond the superficial gambler, gunslinger. That’s when my search for the real Doc Holliday took hold. But after several months of hard work I got stuck when I exhausted all the research materials available to me in Los Angeles.

There was something else though, I had long since figured the way to get a handle on Holliday’s real character was through Sister Mary Melanie. Yeah—good luck. Fact is Sister Melanie died more than a half century ago. There had been a lot of talk about letters from John Henry to the sister, but I think they had all been destroyed, burned. And for one reason or another that’s about the time I set the project aside. Something Perk said got my attention though. He told me that Lucy Caldwell had interviewed Sister Melanie several times back in 1937. I wonder if she knew about her grandfather’s manuscript at that time and did they discuss Holliday?

I got out of bed, put on the coffee and managed to book a reservation on the nine a.m. Delta nonstop to Atlanta. I showered, dressed, threw a few things into an overnight bag and drove to the Flyaway parking facility in the San Fernando Valley. I picked up my tickets, jumped on the bus for LAX and made the nine o’clock with time to spare.

It was still daylight when I pulled my rented Mustang into the motel parking lot in the small town of Madison, Georgia.

The motel folks were as Southern as corn bread and chitins and for some reason they rolled out the red carpet. I figured Perk must have laid it on pretty thick when he made the reservation. But they said no, it was Ms. Lucy that set it up and she had made the arrangements in person.

The map she left for me was explicit. Take Route 24 North out of Madison for six miles and turn right on the River Road. Cross the railroad tracks and drive one mile and seven eighths to the main gate of the Caldwell Plantation. And at the bottom of the map Ms. Lucy wrote, please read the prologue chapters dealing with the early years of Doc’s life, which you will find on your night stand. Looking forward to your visit and I will join you on the River Terrace at nine o’clock in the morning for breakfast.

I shook my head and mused, the lady has my undivided attention. Then I removed a sheaf of pages from a large manila envelope. The paper was turning yellow around the edges, but the printing was quite legible. I sat down in a chair, turned on a lamp and began to read.

The Life and Times of John Henry Holliday

Prologue I

Major Henry Holliday sat beside his son John Henry and guided the one horse carriage to a stop in front of the Griffin Depot. The youngster jumped down from his seat and, as he tied off to the hitching post, called back to his father, Papa, why do we have to move way down to South Georgia?

Major Holliday rubbed his chin and smiled. Well, son I just believe at the present time there’s more opportunity down there. The Major, in the course of his business as a land speculator, had purchased a 2500-acre farm just outside of Valdosta, Georgia and liked the area so much that he decided to relocate there. He figured some family members would not want to move, but hadn’t considered the kind of resistance he had actually encountered. Not one person in the Holliday household wanted to move to South Georgia. His wife Alice led the opposition. Alice was a respected and longtime music teacher in the Griffin area and enjoyed a certain amount of independence. She also felt an obligation to her present students. But even putting that consideration aside, she wondered if she had the stamina to begin a new life in South Georgia. John Henry sided with his mother. Mama said this old red clay’s been mighty good to us.

I’m well aware of that, son and I sympathize with you and your mother’s argument. It’s always hard to leave familiar surroundings and move to an unknown place. But it’s not like we’ll be going alone, the help will be with us and your mother’s three sisters will be coming along too. Then Major Holliday smiled and put his hand on the boys’ shoulder. Looks to me like you’re getting homesick before we even leave the place, John Henry, he cajoled as they walked around the depot and joined a small group waiting on the platform. Major Holliday and his son were there to meet his sister in law, Mary Anne Holliday, coming in from Jonesboro. The train whistle could be heard in the near distance and just a few moments later the bell sounded as the engine came into sight.

Major Holliday scanned the group and noting the dour looks on their faces, he thought about the recent war news and realized that most citizens in Griffin had a relative or acquaintance at the front, which would naturally give them cause to worry. It was about a year ago when Stonewall Jackson died of wounds sustained at Chncellorsville. General Lee had said at the time that the loss of Jackson was like losing his right arm. The Major agreed with that assessment, but added that if Jackson had been Lee’s right arm then Jeb Stuart and his cavalry were his eyes and ears. Stuart was shot out of his saddle just last week at Yellow Tavern, Virginia and died a few hours later.

But the fighting in Virginia wasn’t the big worry for Georgians, at the present time, it was instead Union General William T. Sherman and his forces moving out of Chattanooga and probing south into North Georgia. General Joe Johnston’s Confederate Army, that was, opposing Sherman made the Yankee’s pay dearly. However, Union forces were advancing in overwhelming numbers, and in an effort to save the lives of his own men Johnston’s strategy was to make a calculated withdrawal while searching out a strategic location where he could dig in and make a stand.

The Major agreed with Johnston’s withdrawal plan, but he did worry about what would happen, if his forces were unable to stop the Yankee’s north of the rivers in front of Atlanta?

Major Holliday could understand the sad faces in the crowd, but there was something else in the scene that was troubling, something physical that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Then as the train braked to a stop in front of the depot he glanced up at the engineer and noticed the worn and frayed sleeve of his jacket—that’s it he thought, everyone in the crowd, men and women alike, are wearing clothes that are out of fashion, and have been for several years. All the colors are dulled with age and faded by too much wear.

The conductor snapped open the front door of the second coach, jumped down and put a small auxiliary set of steps in place.

John Henry saw her first. There she is, Papa.

Mary Anne held onto the side rail as she glided down to the platform, her bright blue eyes flashing through an open smile, blond curls showing below her bonnet and wearing a cotton print dress with style and grace.

John Henry ran to his aunt and Major Holliday followed along and called out, Welcome to Griffin, Mary Anne. Then he gave her a buss on the cheek and said, You don’t know how much we appreciate your coming down to help out.

Isn’t that what family is all about, Henry? Mary Anne chided. Moving is always a task and I’m glad I can be of some help, it also affords me a chance for a nice visit.

I like your undaunting spirit, Mary Anne, but I expect we’d best get a move on and get to the house. Everyone is looking forward to seeing you.

Major Holliday pulled on the reins and turned into the drive then moved past the large front porch of the two-story dwelling. He stopped in the middle of a sandy backyard, shaded by oaks, poplars and a magnolia tree and got down from the rig.

The carriage arrival did not go undetected for every member of the Holliday household black and white alike spilled out of the house to greet Mary Anne. A tall, almost too thin, Mother Alice wearing a full-length gingham housedress and her perpetual smile walked down the back stairs followed by her three younger sisters, Margaret, Melissa, and Eunice McKey all wearing bright colorful cotton dresses.

The loveable Aunt Susie, cook, nurse and general helpmate to Alice dried her hands on her apron as she lumbered down the steps. A tall, thin, gray haired, Uncle Lew came at the rush wearing a well-worn blue surge suit and brushing the telltale signs of cornbread and buttermilk off his mouth. Aunt Susie’s son, HC hustled in from the barn area wearing bib overalls and a gray flannel shirt.

The McKey sister’s came to live with the Holliday’s following the death of their father William McKey in December of 1856. The three blacks Uncle Lew, Aunt Susie and HC were all purchased, at the insistence of Alice, by Major Holliday at the McKey Estate sale held in Griffin on January 6, 1857. The only family member not present was their adopted son, Francisco E’Dalgo. Major Holliday, while serving as a 2nd Lieutenant during the Mexican-American War rescued the young orphan Francisco and took him under his wing. Then when the war ended Holliday returned to Griffin with the youngster, adopted him and made him a part of the family. Francisco was presently away in North Carolina serving with the 30th Georgia Division.

Alice walked toward the carriage and called a greeting, Mary Anne, it’s so good to see you, darlin’.

Law, Miz Mary Anne, so good to see yo smiling face, Aunt Susie announced with a generous smile.

Major Holliday helped Mary Anne down from the carriage and cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention. I have an announcement to make. Earlier today Leonard Moore, the railroad freight representative, gave me some bad news. Now as you know, I have leased three freight cars to transport our belongings to Valdosta. Leonard didn’t break the deal, but he did cut our loading time in half. Which means we now have only four days to get everything packed and loaded onto those cars.

What’s the big hurry? Alice asked.

It’s the war, darlin’, he said they have lost dozens of rail cars in North Georgia just in the last day or two. The Major smiled. Now, all we can do at this point in time is go to work and beat that deadline.

The family sat around the dining room table while Aunt Susie served the evening meal and grumbled. Thank de Good Lawd fo dem birds you and John Henry brought in this mornin’, Major Holliday. If this here war don’t quit I ain’t gonna have nothin’ fo the table.

We do the best we can, Auntie. I’m sure the Good Lord will see to our survival, Alice said, then she looked around the table and smiled. Henry put us to work so fast this afternoon that, I for one didn’t have time to catch up on the day’s news. Margaret¸ I believe you got a letter from one of our brother’s.

That’s right, Alice. I had a short letter from Tom and he couldn’t tell me exactly where they were; only that he had recently seen James and William. They are all fine, and they wished us well. Tom never was one to ramble on and the only other scrap of information was a blurred post mark some place in Virginia.

Alice shook her head and looked toward Mary Anne. I can’t believe you’ve been here all this time and I haven’t asked about your children and Robert.

Mary Anne chuckled. Well, the children are a mixed blessing. The young ones are at home either coming down with a cold or they’ve got one in full bloom. Mattie and Rebecca are doing well at St. Vincent’s Academy in Savannah.

Major Holliday looked down at his plate and quietly picked at the food while thinking about the war. The Major had spent the early part of the war in Virginia, but due to his failing health he was given a medical discharge and sent home. However, as soon as he regained his strength and started to move around the streets of Griffin, folks always wanted to drag him aside to discuss the war. And the more he talked about it the more guilty he felt about not being with his troops in Virginia. His disability and discharge not withstanding, his heart was still with his men on the front lines and wearing Confederate gray. But he finally looked up at Mary Anne and said, During your train ride this afternoon, did you hear any news about the war?

I heard a lot of talk, but none of it was very encouraging. Someone said that if General Johnston continues to retreat he is going to be replaced.

The Major frowned. I suspect that would be a mistake. I believe Johnston will make a stand north of the Chattahoochee and if he’s successful he might save Atlanta.

John Henry cleared his throat. Papa what did you mean the other day when you said you were beginning to feel like a slacker?

Well, I’m not sure, son, but I have this terrible feeling I ought to go back to the front and be with my men.

Shocked by her husbands’ sentiment Alice looked up and declared, You’ll do nothing of the kind, Henry Holliday. Darlin’ you’ve fought in three wars and the last time they sent you back on a stretcher, goodness gracious, another week and it would have been a pine box. No, Henry Holliday, you’re done with wars!

The following day everyone in the Holliday household was working at a quick pace packing dishes, silverware, and any other household item that would fit into a box or barrel. They kept up that hurried pace until the middle of the second afternoon when Mother Alice became tired and exhausted and before she could find a chair collapsed on the dining room floor.

Uncle Lew went for the family doctor. Doctor Nunnally came on the run and went to his patient’s room, knowing full well what the problem was. The doctor did a brief examination and that being completed, he spoke quietly and said, Alice, we simply can’t keep our secret any longer, it’s not fair to the rest of the family.

But, Doctor Nunnally, can’t we wait until the move is finished. I promise to tell Henry as soon as we get settled in our new place.

Alice Holiday, you are almost as good as your husband at this kind of deception, perhaps better.

Are you sure it’s tuberculosis?

The doctor nodded an affirmation. We are all still guessing Alice—medical science has grown but there is still a lot we don’t know about this disease.

Then, Doctor Nunnally couldn’t we just let the unknown prevail a while longer—it will make our move so much easier, especially for Henry.

All right, Alice but you must promise to get more rest, Dr. Nunnally said as he picked up his medical bag and turned toward the door.

Major Holliday, John Henry, Mary Anne, Margaret and Aunt Susie were all anticipating the worst as the doctor came out of the sick room. Dr. Nunnally kept his word and manufactured a plausible cover for his deceit. Mother Alice is tired, she’s obviously been working too hard, now you all must help her follow my instructions, and she is to get plenty of rest and fresh air.

You ain’t askin’ much, Doctor, Aunt Susie declared. Gonna have to tie her down to git her to rest . . . I gonna see to it though.

When the packing was all finished, Mary Anne prepared to go home and said her goodbyes while Major Holliday carried her bags to the backyard and loaded them onto the one horse buggy. Once they were onboard Major Holliday took the reins and drove out of the yard onto the main road. Mary Anne, you don’t know how much I appreciate your coming down to help. Then he paused for a long moment, frowned and said guardedly, I am quite worried about your situation in Jonesboro.

What are you talking about, Henry?

Just this, Robert is away in uniform, and you and the children have no protection against what I expect is going to happen.

Well, it’s home, Henry and I feel as safe there as any place I can think of.

The Yankees are on the move north of Atlanta and if I had to make a guess, I’d say that before the year is up that city will be under siege, just like Vicksburg was last year and unfortunately I predict similar results.

That’s not what you said at the dinner table the other night, Henry.

I’m afraid that talk was based on wishful thinking.

Does that mean you believe the South’s war effort is doomed?

That is my deepest fear.

Then what do you suggest we do, Henry?

Counsel with Robert by mail, go out to the farm and talk with your Uncle Philip Fitzgerald, get their ideas and then make the best judgment you can, darlin’—and this one last thought, if the war gets too close and you believe things are becoming untenable, gather up the children, and you all join us in South Georgia.

Henry, I really do appreciate your offer of refuge, but I’m still not willing to concede that those awful Yankees will be successful.

Major Holliday nodded. I hope you’re right Mary Anne. Now there is another subject I need to discuss with you, something I haven’t been able to speak to anyone else about.

It sounds mysterious, Henry, what in the world is it?

Alice and her health.

It’s more serious than Doctor Nunnally said, isn’t it?

Now I’m no doctor and I hope I’m on the wrong track, but from what I can tell as a layman, Alice is in the not too early stages of tuberculosis.

Mary Anne grimaced. I don’t want to even think about it, but I suspect you are right, Henry.

I plan to confront Nunnally before we leave for Valdosta—my suspicion is that Alice swore the man to secrecy in order to spare us worry, but I’ve got to know.

The Major then flicked the reins and said; Now you must make haste and contact Philip, at the farm, and get his thoughts about your security.

Henry, if you are trying to scare me, I must admit that you are achieving your purpose—this talk about the war, coming to our front door, is frightening.

Prologue II

The Holliday’s move to South Georgia was completed just as the Major had planned. And the family’s settling in process went off with the normal amount of spirited rebellion. Moving from an area filled with wooded hills, valleys and red clay to a flat land with sandy soil would take some getting use to. However, by late June most of the opposition to change had given way to an enthusiastic acceptance of their new home.

The main house was a large two-story structure with a wide porch, shuttered windows and was set among a group of oak trees decorated with Spanish moss. As part of an old plantation the 2500-acre farm included an overseer’s cottage, smoke house, slave cabins, equipment sheds, horse barns and corrals.

Alice the person that originally protested the move to South Georgia was actually enjoying her new surroundings. Apparently though she overdid her physical activities and suddenly had one of her fainting spells and fell to the floor.

Major Holliday sent Uncle Lew for the local doctor and decided it was time for a frank discussion with Alice regarding her condition. When the excitement of her fall had calmed down and Alice had been put to bed the Major cleared everyone out of her bedroom, sat down in a chair and took his wife’s hand. Then he looked into her eyes and softly said, This feinting spell brings up a question I’ve put off asking for too long. What should Dr. Nunnally have told me that he didn’t?

Alice realized she should have said something earlier. It’s quite serious, Henry. The doctor says I’m in the early stages of tuberculosis.

That was my guess.

I’m sorry, darlin’.

Nothing to be sorry about, Alice.

Not the disease, Henry, the deception. I’m sorry I kept it from you; perhaps I was just hoping it would go away. But being a little more practical I wanted to get settled in down here first.

We can keep it from the others if you like¸ Alice. But the fact is they may have already guessed.

I suppose I didn’t fool anyone but myself.

Dr. Henderson, a tall robust man of about fifty years, arrived promptly and when he finished an extensive examination of his patient, he left the sick room and walked out to the front yard with Major Holliday and John Henry giving them an assessment of his findings.

So you are in agreement with our previous doctor that she’s got tuberculosis, Major Holliday said.

I wish I could tell you something you would rather hear, but I can’t.

Isn’t there anything you can do to help? John Henry asked hopefully.

Dr. Henderson looked first at the father then the boy before he answered. The fact is, as of now, we don’t have all the answers about the disease. There are some things we know and I’ll do them, son. Then he pointed toward the house and said. I want you to open that window and keep it open as much as possible. I believe fresh air is as important as any treatment I can recommend. Then as the doctor was about to climb into his buggy he turned and said, There is something the family can do. Keep her spirits up and make her life cheerful, that will be a great help to her.

We sure can do that, Dr. Henderson, John Henry enthused.

Doctor Henderson’s instructions restricted his patients’ physical activities and they included a mandatory afternoon nap. But even with those restrictions Alice got back to a near normal routine around the house.

John Henry and HC spent most of their time out of doors riding along with Major Holliday checking fences and boundary lines. Over time the boys explored just about every acre on the farm and located the best short cut into town.

Major Holliday looked at schools in the area and enrolled John Henry at the Valdosta Institute for classes set to begin in September.

* * *

Aunt Susie watched from just inside the back door and mother Alice stood on the back porch shading her eyes from the late afternoon sun. The boys had been to town and when they returned took an extraordinary amount of time putting the horses away. Alice watched the two and determined from their general demeanor, John Henry’s disheveled appearance, and their reluctance to walk directly to the house, that something was amiss. When they finally did arrive at the back steps she said, What in the world happened to you, son, did you fall off the horse?

No, Mama.

Well, something certainly happened, your face and clothes are a mess.

We stopped by the playground at the Valdosta Institute and ah . . . we were just playing ball.

Looks to me like you did most of your playing on the ground. Alice motioned for John Henry to come near for a closer look. There’s a bruise on your right cheek and a cut over your left eye.

It’s just a scratch, Mama.

Stand still and let me brush the sand out of that cut. Looks to me like you’ve been doing more than just playing ball. When John Henry offered no explanation Alice turned to HC and asked, Would you please tell me what happened?

The youngster shrugged and rubbed his injured hand. I reckon the boy hit him.

Then you’ve been fighting again, Alice quipped with a scolding tone.

Avoiding his mother’s eyes John Henry eventually said, I guess.

You guess. My goodness, I would guess so too—what was it about?

Aw, it wasn’t anything, Mama.

From the looks of you, it had to be something. What happened?

He was calling HC names, Mama.

What on earth for, son?

Well, we were choosing up sides to play ball and they left HC out and I said why can’t he play? Bill Wilkinson said he couldn’t play ’cause he’s a Nigger, that’s why.

HC giggled. He called John Henry a Nigger lover.

Alice shook her head in despair. I’ve heard quite enough. I suppose you were provoked, but in those situations, you should try and walk away from them. Did you settle the argument?

Well, kinda. Actually Mr. Sam Varnadoe, headmaster at the institute saw us wrestling and pulled us apart. He gave us what for, then he made us shake hands.

HC mimicked Mr. Sam and said, All right, young gentlemen, should we continue this wrestling match or is it time to play ball?

John Henry looked at his mother and laughed. They let HC play and Mr. Sam volunteered to umpire.

Well I’m glad you got it all settled, Alice said. Come along, son, we’ll try and get you cleaned up. Now don’t you run off HC, I want you to start practicing your piano lessons again.

But Miz Alice my left hand still ain’t no good.

Miz Alice, my foot, if you can play ball, you certainly should be able to practice your piano. You hurt your hand on that old lime spreader before we left Griffin. Now, I’m not saying it won’t bother you some, but you’ve got to start practicing sometime and it might as well be today.

Yessum, I guess if you say I gotta.

John Henry, you run on to the kitchen and pour some hot water in a pan. I’ll be there in a minute and clean out that cut and put some turpentine on it.

Alice was torn between the need to punish her son for fighting and pride at his standing up to the bigot. Troubled by her dilemma she turned to Aunt Susie and said, I just don’t know what we’re going to do with John Henry.

A wry grin played over Aunt Susie’s face. De ain’t nothin’ we needs to do bout dat boy, he gist got a whole lotta spunk.

By late summer the dire predictions about the war were coming true. Union General William T. Sherman had pushed the Southern Forces from Dalton in North Georgia all the way back to Marietta. The Confederate war planners in Richmond disagreed with General Joe Johnston’s strategic withdrawal tactics and replaced their field commander with General John Hood; the Texas firebrand that they believed could stop the Yankee onslaught. But the switch made little difference as Sherman’s Army proceeded south and crossed the Chattahoochee River. Hood’s men made a valiant stand at Peachtree creek, but it didn’t stop the Yankees from laying siege to Atlanta and lobbying cannon balls into the city streets.

By late August Union forces encircled Atlanta and military actions erupted all around the perimeter, which included a two-day battle at Jonesboro. The Confederates had some minor victories, but none of them amounted to anything more than an orderly retreat. It was only a matter of days when General Hood conceded defeat and gave up on his defense of Atlanta. When his troops marched out to the south Hood gave orders to destroy some eighty-railroad cars, filled with stores and ordnance. And shortly after midnight on September 2, 1864 one of the mightiest explosions and fireworks displays of all times took place when Hoods rearguards torched those eighty railroad cars.