"I should have never surrendered. I should have fought until I was the last man alive."

—Geronimo's last words, Feb. 17, 1909

"Had I foreseen these results of subjugation, I would have preferred to die at Appomattox with my brave men, my sword in my right hand."

—General Lee 1870's (supposedly)

***
Cole Tyler

December 31st, 1865
New Years Eve of 1866

Tonight's the night...

I'm gonna kiss me some Yankees. I don't care if their married, and I don't care if I'm their first. If their pretty enough I. Am. Kissin' 'em.

And if their pro-Union fathers have anything to say about it?

I send them straight to a devil's hell.

Let's not forget, I heard that Sherman was on this train. The worthless piece of cud was going to celebrate with all his fellow murderers. I sat in the poorer part of the train, the basic travel car while Sherman was in a lavish car near the front.

I glanced at the lone passenger in the wooden bucket seat a few rows behind me. A pretty, dirty-blonde woman in a green dress with spectacles was minding her own business, reading the paper. I huffed in thought through my nose, what was a woman like her doing with looking glasses? I peered at the passengers in front of me who looked like old, poor farmers who were forced from their homes.

After resisting the urge to smoke, I went back to dirty blonde woman. My spurs clicked as I my leather work boots walked and the woman didn't even notice until the wooden bucket seat in front of her creaked. She looked up at me with a sweet innocence in her hazel eyes.

"Sorry to disturb you ma'am, but could you tell me where the outhouse is?"

The shy rabbit of a woman didn't hear me even though I had spoken quite clearly.

"The what?"

"The outhouse?" I gestured with my hand, "You know, that place everyone goes to once nature calls? I don't know what they call it on this silly steam engine."

"Oh, are you learned?" She turned flush red, "I'm sorry. It's in the back with a sign."

"No offense taken madam," I smirked friendly-like, "but I'll have you know I can read." I focused my brown eyes confidently into hers, "In more ways than one."

She cleared her throat and composed herself like some fluffy pigeon on her nest. "I'm sorry, sir. My mother had taught me not to judge but your sudden approach startled me. Are you from around here? You have a nice accent."

My smirk grew into a grin, "You flatter me, I'm actually from Atlanta." I heard the wood creak from behind me as the older couple cast a glance at me.

"Atlanta..." the woman rolled it unfamiliarly off her tongue.

"Georgia, Atlanta Georgia." I lied, "Say, I've been to many a German New Year parties, are you seeing anyone this New Years?"

She blushed again, gosh this girl is innocent as all hell... and fast to jump to conclusions.

"A-am I courting anyone?"

I pretended an embarrassed glance down.

"Now I didn't ask that," I pretended to check my pocket watch for closure, "but at the German parties they all always shared a kiss once midnight struck." I looked up at her, "Now don't take offense, its circumstances that brought me here, but what do you say you 'n I have a German New Years? It'll remind me of my family."

"Uhm-" she hid behind her book like a shield, "w-what happened to your family?"

I blinked as if dramatically, "You don't know what happened to Atlanta in the war?"

Pity picked up in the woman's voice and she relaxed. "Oh, the war."

I looked away forlornly, "Yeah." Then I flashed a smirk back at her, "So?"

"I uh," she was red as a circus chimps butt gone chafe, "yes'sir."

I smiled and sat down tentatively next to her. I checked my pocket watch, but flipped it closed before she could see. I smiled widely, the dimples in my cheeks showing. "It's close enough for countdown."

"S-so," the girl said putting a few strands of her hair behind her ear, "how does this go?"

"We just count down," I glanced both ways and asked, "your folks won't care?"

She smiled and man, I wish I wasn't just using her. That smile was brilliant.

"They won't know, I'm just a rebel away from home."

I liked that, I like that a lot!

"Well... if that ain't me I don't know what is." I tipped my felt 10-gallon up and met her eyes, "Three."

She closed her eyes tightly and let me approach. "Two."

Her lips parted a hair and she pulled some hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear.

"One."

I pressed my lips to hers, in a balanced, and experienced kiss. I didn't want to test my luck with a overly passionate smooch though I didn't think she'd be the slapping type. I almost felt bad for the little bird.

We parted and the pop of a champagne bottle from the party car could be heard. There was two taps on the window and I sighed. The woman noticed as well.

"What was that?"

Okay, now it's time.

"You reminded me of my family, so when the shooting starts: you won't get hurt."

"Wait-" she paled, "what?!"

I got up unceremoniously and went outside the train car. I was already climbing onto roof. My brother in arms dropped a heap of lead and metal wordlessly as I began slipping on my weapons. I asked over the wind,

"Waya hide in the crate okay?"

"Yeah." Mercer muttered.

"Good, and the Mexicans?"

"Took out the guards on the colored passenger car with Waya and Scarlet."

"Scarlet getting the driver?"

"As we speak."

I finally slipped on my naval battle-flag buckle bandolier and Mercer drew his double barrel shotgun. The wind blew viciously as I held my hat and we continued towards the front of the train. Miguel popped his head out of the locomotive like a gopher and waved us over.

"¡Vámomos! ¡Date prisa estúpido!"

"Did he call me what I think he called me?" I said in stride and Miguel translated this time.

"I said, 'come on! Hurry up stupid!'" He laughed and then the train shuttered. Confused Mercer and I jumped onto the locomotive as Miguel exclaimed,

"Jesús Cristo! Jesus Christ Scarlet!"

"What?" I asked.

"She threw the driver under the train!"

Scarlet bore her eyes into me and stated with arms crossed, "The man would not be quiet. He was warned."

"Serves the carpetbagging scum right. Now-" I popped my neck and unholstered my LeMat Revolver. Hopping towards the party car I kicked the door open.

"Happy New Years! Sorry I was late!"

I grabbed the closest somewhat pretty dame close to me and pressed my lips sloppily onto hers as my entourage flowed around me.

"Good heavens!" An elderly woman exclaimed. Then others cussed and a cacophony of cries and startled curses filled the air. I tossed the stunned and pale girl into a booth and pointed my revolver around the room.

It was eerily quiet and Mercer noted the barkeep reaching for something. He swiveled his ten-gauge towards him and yelled.

"Don't even think about it!"

He thought about it... and Mercer spread his eyes across the train car.

"You know what this is!" Waya yelled out, as Scarlet went around with a bag, "Money and valuables! Now!"

I shouted at the woman I kissed going towards the next,

"Earrings, necklaces, all valuables on the floor!"

The shivering, young brunette complied and I smooched a blonde maybe twenty-eight, ten years older than the brunette. I continued towards a pale-as-death sixteen maybe seventeen brown haired girl and a man in Union uniform stepped in my way. He gulped,

"Good sir, that's my daughter."

"Oh?" I cocked my revolver as if in display, "Where's your wife?"

The man blinked and his lip quivered without an answer. He glanced at the blonde I had already kissed who was pale as stale bread. I caught the glance.

"Well I've been psyching myself up for a very kissy New Years this year. So move, and I'll respect your wish."

An old officer bellowed in the corner, "You're not treating my daughter that way you snake!"

I stopped, and rolled my head towards him in a glance before turning and shooting a 42. Caliber into his throat. A woman in a lavish yellow dress keened,

"Daddy!"

She flew to his bleeding father and I added.

"We're gonna play a game!" I glanced at everyone in the room, "And we are God."

"Hand over your valuables!" Waya yelled.

"You killed my daddy!" The woman in the yellow dress screamed before murmuring to herself, "First Ma and now this?"

The car jumped when I shot her in the back of the head. Once silence returned, I spoke,

"I should add, if you give us too much trouble we will kill you and your wife, and if you don't have a wife we'll kill your kid, and if you don't have either of those we'll kill you and the person next to you."

"So don't cause trouble!" Mercer said as he reloaded a shell into the empty chamber of his ten-gauge.

"Eyy!" Miguel exclaimed, picking up a shiny gun from off the poker table, "What kind of gun is this?!"

"T-that's a Walch R-revolver," Miguel glanced at the blue-dressed brunette woman, "s-sir."

"Gracias señora but was I talking to you estúpido? Shut the hell up."

All went smoothly until someone told Waya quote, I ain't givin' nothin' to a red man!

Scarlet dropped the bag of loot as Waya forced the man to kneel.

"Remember, remember," Waya cooed uncannily like a wraith, "Remember the 29th of November."

"Now, now," I said to everyone who we were corralling into the corner once looted, "racism don't please the God's that be around here at the moment."

Soon Waya and Scarlet were scalping the man and his wife. Soon their screams turned into whimpers and a traumatized girl asked.

"Why are you doin' this mister?! Why are you being mean!?" Someone hushed her and I stepped towards her and leaned down.

"Cuz the Gods that be are angry, we've loved and we lost. The men who proudly wear blue in this room? They stole our land-"

"Then get more!" Her father tried to hush her again. I glanced at her father and uncocked my pistol.

"Let me rephrase that, they took our homes, and how many homes do you have little one? One?"

Her lip quivered. "W-we were moving to another one."

I gave her a triumphal smirk, and said, "Now, little bird, land and homes don't grow on trees. Think on it, think who had that house and called it home before, alright?"

I stood adding, "I'm just a rebel away from home, but who took it? I'm going to kill the person."

Then I cocked my revolver again yelling out. "Now, on one condition are we letting any blue clothed mules who served the Union leave here breathin'! Where is William T. Sherman!"

The men's eyes grew to tea saucers, and they glanced at someone I knew wasn't him. The man began sobbing and cursed into ceiling like God had deserted him. My spurs clicked and the wood under me creaked as I got in front of him and leveled my LeMont under his chin and in a low, authoritative voice I said,

"What's your name?"

"A-Aaron."

"Your full name."

"A-"

"And rank!"

"Sgt. Aaron Sherman."

Rage boiled inside of me.

"Well, Mr. Sherman," I can't believe my source was bogus, but I finished, "the Gods that be have been wronged and you know what that means:" I leaned closer to him and whispered, "Redemption."

Then my 20-gauge shotgun shell in my LeMat revolver took off his head.

A/N: I thought about being more descriptive but I was already hitting 2k words. & Yes that girl plays along later in the story.