#the brannon homestead

[anothersimlishtragedy]

Part 1 - The Ghost and the Stranger

With a bar of soap in one hand and a pair of trousers in the other, Magnolia sank her hands into the hot water and begin to scrub and lather the material against the textured tin of the wash board.

She plunged and scrubbed the thin cotton chemise she'd been given on her wedding day by her mother. Next was a pair of Hollis' wool socks that had so much sweat and dirt on them they could nearly stand on their own. She grimaced and chucked it into the tub.

The whinny of a horse caught her attention from the front of the house. She stood and quickly wiped her hands on the skirts of her dress, then grabbed her pistol and started around the house.

"State your name!" she shouted to the stranger from behind the mesquite tree, her pistol in hand and finger on the trigger.

"Howdy, Ms. Brannon." the stranger called out from on top of his horse. She had to squint against the afternoon sun to make out the face of a man.

She cocked the pistol and a familiar metallic click sounded as the bullet entered the chamber.

"I said state your name or I'll blow your head clean off your shoulders, mister!"

"Woh, I don't mean no harm....I- I was just looking for the man of the house."

Through the leaves of the tree, she saw him shift in the saddle and grimace, like there was something about him that was hurt. She wasn't risking moving closer to him but something made her step aside from the leaves to get a good look at his face.

"He aint' here." Magnolia said through grit teeth.

The stranger shifted again and his horse whinnied, antsy and frustrated that they were standing still.

"I apologize, ma'am. This is the Brannon homestead, ain't it?"

"You sure got a lot of questions for someone who's got a gun pointed at 'em" she snarled. " I'm going to give you to the count of 3..."

"Name's Brannon. Hollis Brannon, ma'am." the stranger sputtered.

It made sense at that moment. The jawline, the vacant hazel eyes.

"You- you're, Jake's brother?" she manage to breathe out, chest tight and squeezing with every second that passed. She felt violently ill in that moment.

"Yep, his kid brother. Ya see, I was coming to ta-." he reached down towards the revolver on his hip and she fired a shot into the bramble to his left in defense.

"Shit!"

The horse bucked at the sound of gunfire and knocked the man onto the dirt with a thud, then took off like lightning down the road that trailed down to the river nearby.

She closed the distance between them fast. And then there he was, hat in the dirt, looking just like her late husband did 10 years ago. He clutched his right side where his shirt was plastered to his skin, wet and shiny with blood.

"I didn't aim for you." Her brow furrowed.

"Got shot on the road to Brindleton Bay." he winced, trying to sit up, then flopped back onto the dust with a thud.

"Aren't you a popular feller?"

She studied him for a moment, a ghost of her past come back to haunt her in the form of her late husband's brother. After a quick assessment, she knew he'd be too weak to try anything stupid, and she looped his arm around her neck to help him stand.

"My horse." he croaked, lips dry from days riding under the sun.

"He'll be aight. There's a river just down there. I'll go find him in a second. We need to get you on the porch."

"I don't want to impose..." he groaned between heavy steps and arms sagging against her shoulders and neck.

"It's a little late for that, now, isn't it?"

[full-imagination]

Ellen Lewis Melton

Ellen Lewis Melton, 85, of Spartanburg, SC died Monday, September 14, 2020, at Valley Falls Terrace. Born December 27, 1934 in Spartanburg, SC, she was the daughter of the late Floyd Marion and Mattie Ellen Frey Lewis and wife of 63 years to the late Grady Melton, Sr. In 1967 she began her career with the US Postal System as a clerk, then Postmaster at Una Post Office, before transferring in 1983 as Postmaster to the Roebuck Post Office. During her tenures, she planned and built new office buildings for those communities and retired in 1992 with more than 25 years of service. As an active member of the Piedmont Historical Society, National Association of Postmasters of the U.S. and National Association of Retired Federal Employees, she traveled frequently for these organizations and made many friends across our nation. Survivors include her children, Debra Genobles Brannon (JR), Grady Melton Jr. all of Cross Hill, SC, and Mark Melton of Spartanburg, SC; grandchildren, Jeff Genobles (Leah) and Matt Genobles (Sonya) and great-grandchildren, Abby, Luke, Avril, Grace, Anna, Levi, JC and Asa. In addition to her parents and husband, she was predeceased by sisters, Rosy Bible and Judy Bishop. Visitation will be 2:00-3:15 PM, Wednesday, September 16, 2020, in Greenlawn Memorial Gardens Heritage Chapel Mausoleum, 1300 Fernwood-Glendale Road, Spartanburg, SC 29307, with funeral services following at 3:30 PM, conducted by Mr. Brian Harvey. Entombment will follow the service. A special thank you to the staff of Mobile Meals Service of Spartanburg and friends who made deliveries, Valley Falls Terrace and staff, Hospice Care of South Carolina, Homestead Hospice and staff, Lisa Turner, and Jody Carter for their in-home loving care. Floyd’s North Church Street Chapel from The JF Floyd Mortuary via Spartanburg Funeral

[audiobookblog]

Antietam

In early 1862, the war comes within view of the Brannon family farm in Culpeper County, Virginia, and another son of answers the call to arms. A gifted horseman, Mac joins Jeb Stuart’s cavalry and soon finds himself on one of the great adventures of the war. While love blossoms on the Brannon homestead, the Northern army intercepts the Rebels near Antietam Creek, where two Brannon brothers, Will…

[audiobookers]

New Audiobook has been published on http://www.audiobook.pw/audiobook/antietam/

Antietam

In early 1862, the war comes within view of the Brannon family farm in Culpeper County, Virginia, and another son of answers the call to arms. A gifted horseman, Mac joins Jeb Stuart’s cavalry and soon finds himself on one of the great adventures of the war. While love blossoms on the Brannon homestead, the Northern army intercepts the Rebels near Antietam Creek, where two Brannon brothers, Will and Mac, are brought together in the bloodiest trial of the war thus far. The air is thick with shot and shell as wave after wave of the Northern soldiers are hurled upon the Southern lines grouped near the town of Sharpsburg and a river of death. Robust, detail rich, and well-paced…Reasoner’s battle narrative provides equal parts pathos and accuracy.-Publishers Weekly

[anothersimlishtragedy]