Leaving Mrs Bellweather the group heads back onto main street and walks north following the map toward the newspaper's office when they pass a large Civil War Memorial in the centre of town, set on a small grassy hill, encircled by four,iron park benches. A granite statue of a young man in the uniform of a Union soldier, his clothes torn and ragged, his head bandaged and his left arm in a sling, yet he still has a proud, determined look on his handsome face. Below, a plaque reads "For our brave sons who fought to keep this great nation whole but who never returned home to hear our thanks." Beneath is a list of eight names.
Next to the statue is a small and highly decorative iron cannon, just over three feet in length. A small flower garden filled with daisies and lilacs surrounded by a circle of whitewashed , fist-sized stones lies between the the cannon and soldier, giving the place a peaceful feeling. A couple of old timers are sitting on a bench, glancing your way as you read.
Then a voice behind you breaks you from the moment, "We don't get many tourists this way, you staying long?"
Turning you see a man in his mid 30's, brown hair in a suit and hat. He smiles, welcoming, "Richard Wendell. I'm the local reporter."
