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The war had come to an end. After four years of conflict and bitterness between the North and the South, General Robert E.

Lee had surrendered the day before to UlyssesS.

Grant at a place called Appomattox Courthouse.

For all his ten years, Spencer Duval could only remember the country at war, and he really had no idea of what surrender might mean for the country.

His father, Harrison Duval had been gone much of the time during the conflict, working for the Pinkerton Agency, hunting down deserters, profiteers, and other criminal type who sought to benefit from the country’s condition.

Spencer and his mother, meanwhile kept the home fires burning in Philadelphia while they prayed for Pa’s safety as he performed his job.

They prayed too for the war to stay far away from city of “Brotherly Love.” Nothing was more terrifying to Spencer’s mother than the thought of a war being fought in their hometown.

It was frightening enough to both when the Battles of Gettysburg and Hanover had taken place just two years earlier.

Now that the end of the war had been announced, Spencer could only feel a sense of victory and celebration, as most of the crowd did.

His father, however, said there was still a lot to do.

That gave Spencer’s mother very little to celebrate.

She worried that his job with the Pinkertons was even more dangerous than fighting in the war.

“It’s good that this war has finally come to an end,” Spencer’s father said as the people around them continued to celebrate.

He’d only been home a few days, and even then, it was only because the man he was hunting had been seen in town.

Spencer had been intrigued by his father’s stories of Eugene Astor, a bounty jumper.

These were men who pretended to sign up to fight in the war only to take the bonuses offered and flee.

Astor and his brothers had made a career over the last four years of robbing the government this way.

Theirs was a treasonable act, and Astor’s two younger brothers had already been killed, refusing to surrender when caught by the Pinkertons.

Only Astor remained, and he had proven nearly impossible to locate, much less to capture.

Pa tightened his hold on Spencer’s shoulder. Spencer looked up to see his father’s jaw clench. It was a sure sign that he’d spotted something.

“Do you see him, Pa?”

Spencer had been instructed to not gawk around looking for the man.

Not that he knew what Eugene Astor looked like.

Pa had figured a man in the crowd with a boy at his side wouldn’t be seen as a threat—definitely not thought of as a Pinkerton.

He had explained to Spencer what they were doing and why.

The idea of being a part of his father’s covert operation had excited Spencer to no end.

He longed to grow up and follow in his father’s footsteps.

He wanted so much to be a Pinkerton and root out criminals.

When his father was able to be home, Spencer had listened to his stories for hours while Pa had also worked to show Spencer tricks of the trade.

Now Spencer got to see him working up close. It was the proudest day of his life.

“No, I thought I did, but it wasn’t him.”

A man took the podium atop the outdoor stage and began. “Friends, we have come here today to give thanks to God for putting an end to this horrific and abominable war. Let us pray.”

Spencer noted most everyone bowed their head in reverence, but Pa took the opportunity to sweep the crowd. He didn’t miss a thing, and Spencer tried to be just as astute. Pa always told him to look for the thing that was out of the ordinary—the person or object that didn’t belong.

Every man in attendance had removed his hat, including Pa, with exception to one.

That man now eased across the farthest gathering of people.

He wasn’t at all remarkable in appearance, but the fact that he wasn’t praying with the others struck Spencer as odd.

It struck his father as infinitely more.

He took off, weaving his way through the audience.

Spencer had his instructions for just such an occasion.

He was to move closer to the stage and stay there until his father returned for him.

But something in Spencer refused to be obedient. He followed his father instead.

The man who’d been moving through the back of the crowd disappeared down the alley.

Pa gave pursuit, and Spencer did as well.

Somewhere among the people was Aloysius Gable, another Pinkerton who was Pa’s best friend.

Spencer glanced around, wondering if Al had already maneuvered around to corner Eugene Astor.

The prayer was finished, and the speaker introduced someone to great applause.

Spencer didn’t care, however. He was struggling to keep up with his father.

It dawned on him more than once that he needed to stop and return to the stage.

His father had made it clear that he wasn’t to follow him.

It was far too dangerous. Astor hadn’t been known to kill, but now that he knew his brothers were dead, there was no telling what he might be compelled to do.

He just might be of a mind to seek revenge.

Pa and Al even discussed the possibility that Astor would seek to shoot down some of the men speaking that day.

One of the men had been among Harrison Duval’s team searching for Astor’s brothers.

When they had been fired upon by Calvin Astor, it was this man who had claimed the death shot.

He was also a war hero and slated to speak to the crowd since he was home recovering from a wound that had taken his left arm.

Pa disappeared momentarily, and Spencer strained to see where he’d gone. He was headed for the alley, and so Spencer kept moving toward it, hoping that once he cleared the mass of people, he’d once again see his father.

He broke through a group of older women who chided him for his rudeness.

He tipped his cap and pressed on. There would be time to apologize later.

Right now, he had to find Pa. He stepped into the alley, seeing nothing.

The speech giving and applause erupting behind him made it difficult to listen for telltale signs of activity, but Spencer finally heard what sounded like bootsteps running.

He sprang forward hoping he might reach his father and Al just as they caught their man.

The sound of gunfire slowed his pace only momentarily. Spencer knew his father was armed. Al, too, carried a gun. But it was a single shot he heard. No exchange. Whoever had fired had either hit his mark or was prevented from firing again.

Something came barreling around the corner.

Spencer pressed himself against the brick wall and watched as a couple of stray cats yowled and a large wooly dog came bounding down the alley.

The stench of trash assaulted Spencer’s nose as the cats ripped through some unmentionable slop and dashed across the toes of Spencer’s boots.

The dog followed, not giving Spencer a second glance.

There was shouting around the next corner, and Spencer refocused on why he’d come in the first place.

He crept down the alley, doing his best to be silent and invisible.

The alley T’d at the end, and Spencer knew he’d have to go right or left.

The voices were coming from the right, and so he figured that was where he’d find his father.

He hugged the wall with his cheek flat against the brick.

In complete silence, he stretched his neck just far enough to peek around the corner.

“You’re done for, Astor. Give up like a man and accept your consequences.

” Spencer’s father stood facing the man he’d been searching for throughout the war.

Spencer saw the man matched the description his father had shared prior to their outing.

He was medium build with brown hair combed straight back, and a scar edged the left side of his lower jaw.

He was dressed as many of the politicians and businessmen who’d amassed around the stage.

Three-piece brown suit with a frockcoat that hit mid-thigh.

White shirt, black tie, and scuffed black boots.

He also held a revolver, not so unlike the one Spencer’s father held.

“We are at a stand-off, Pinkerton, but I will end that momentarily. If I’m not mistaken, you are one of the men who helped corner my brothers. Poor Calvin and Amos.” He gave a tsking sound. “Cut down in their prime, and for what?”

“For lying to the government. For signing up to fight, taking the bonuses offered, and then deserting. Last count I had, you and your brothers pulled that scheme nearly two hundred times in as many towns.”

Astor smiled. “And that was worthy of death? We did what we had to in order to keep our mother fed and housed. If we’d left to fight in that senseless war, she’d have been alone. What did we do that harmed anyone? What did they do that was worthy of death?”

Spencer watched his father. His gaze never left Astor. He stood completely still, gun leveled at the man’s heart. Astor did likewise. Neither seemed to so much as blink.

“You broke the law and deceived the government. You weren’t the only bounty jumpers, but you were the busiest.”

“You can hardly fault a man for being good at what he does,” Astor said with a slight shrug. “But that still isn’t call to kill two young men who’d never harmed a single soul in their lives.”

“They were the first to draw their guns and fire. They refused to surrender and meant to kill us.”

“Out of desperation to remain alive.”

“We wouldn’t have shot them if they’d surrendered.

” Spencer noted the tone of his father’s voice.

He wanted an end to this matter ... a peaceful solution.

His father hated taking a life and would much rather take Astor in alive.

At least he hadn’t dropped to one knee. His father routinely knelt when certain he would have to fire his weapon.

It was just something he had always done.

The fact that he hadn’t moved gave Spencer hope that maybe Astor would give up.

“No, you would have hanged them for treason.”

“This is at an end, Astor. You’re under arrest. Drop the gun.”

For just a moment, Spencer thought the man was going to comply. Then something like icy fingers went up Spencer’s spine. And everything seemed to happen at once. Pa went down on his knees as Astor’s eyes narrowed.

“No.” The single word sounded along with the shot that rang out.

Spencer watched his father’s head lurch. The revolver fell from his hands. Without thinking, Spencer screamed and ran to him. “Pa!” He grabbed hold of his father’s shoulders and pulled him back. The life had gone out of his eyes. He was dead.

“No, Pa. Don’t die. Pa!” Spencer cradled his father’s bloody head and rocked back and forth, mindless of Astor.

To his surprise, the man came and knelt beside them. “The score has been settled, son. This is a day to end all wars.”

Spencer stared at him from tear-blurred eyes. He memorized everything about Eugene Astor in that moment. His score might have been settled, but not Spencer’s. One day he would find Eugene Astor and make him pay for what he’d done.

A shout and several voices sounded from somewhere behind Spencer. Astor got to his feet and fled down the alley. Spencer could still hear the man’s voice. Still see his blue eyes search Spencer’s face as if looking for an answer to a question he’d not posed.

The score hasn’t been settled, Mr. Astor. This war isn’t over.