Philip looked up as someone knocked on the door to his study, again. How many times did he have to tell his servants that he did NOT want to be bothered tonight? He had to get the details ironed out for a new deal he was working on out west. "For the love of God, do you people not speak English? How many times do I have to tell you that I do not want to be disturbed tonight?"

The door slowly opened and an older man poked his head in. "Sir, I know you said that you did not want to be disturbed for any reason, but I really think you need to come and see this." The butler said.

"Oh for God Sakes! This had better be good!" Philip slapped his palms down on the mahogany desk then stood with enough force to cause his chair to topple over. He stomped across the room snatching the door from his butler's hands. "What? What do I need to see?"

"Please sir, follow me." The butler turned to walk towards the front parlor. He could hear the disturbance all the way down the hall. It was obvious that the person in there was extremely upset and drunk, a very dangerous combination. He stood outside the door straightening his coat then he took a deep breath and walked in.

Philip hid the shock on his face as he stared at the creature of the other side of the room. What looked like a man, rambled drunkenly bumping into things knocking them over. Then almost as an afterthought the creature could draw back and kick the fallen object then howl in pain. Under different circumstances it could have been an entertaining sight. As it was, it only seemed to ignite Philip's temper

"Who in the hell are you and what are you doing in my house?"

The creature turned to face him raising a pistol he had not seen a moment ago straight at Philip's chest. Even from across the room he could see the weapon was cocked and the slightest move could set it off. Black rage filled him at the audacity of this – this thing holding a gun on him and in his own home! "I'm going to ask you one more time. Who in the hell are you and what are you doing in my house?" The question started out in a low and menacing tone but ended in a roar.

This caused the creature to begin to shake so much that it became impossible to hold the gun still. "I'm not afraid of you anymore Philip! Do you hear me?" Spittle flew from the creature's mouth as his face began to contort with rage. "You took everything away from me! Everything! My money, my house, my friends, my servants even my daughter! Did you know that after you threw me out of my own home nobody would take me in? None of my friends would help me. You ruined me!" The rage began to fade turning into a pathetic whine.

Oh my God! This was William! Philip had thought the old fool would have been dead by now; rotting in some back alley way. If he looked really hard he could discern some of the old William Saunders. His hair was much longer, almost to his shoulders and was no longer snowy white but a brownish greasy matted mess. His beard too was matted and no doubt crawling with lice. The once extremely over weight man was little more than a skeleton with his skin and filthy dirt caked clothes hanging off of his equally filthy body.

The stench of human excrement combined with stale alcohol an unwashed body worked its way across the room causing Philip's stomach to churn and very nearly made him gag. The man must have not bathed in months. He was going to have to burn everything that disgusting man came in contact with. "What do you want William? I told you to never bother me again." Philip asked in a board tone.

"What do I want? What do I want? I want my life back you son of a bitch!" His face, what could be seen of it was purple with rage and his eyes were wild. It was obvious the man was out of his mind. His right hand began shaking so badly that he had to bring his left hand up to help steady it. Then he pulled the trigger, firing wildly.

Philip dove onto the floor then howled in pain as his rear end took a direct hit from a bullet. He was going to kill that crazy bastard, like he should have done to begin with. The only sound in the room was the popping of the fire and the clicking of the gun as William continued pulling trigger even though it was empty. A moment later the shuffle of feet then the rattle of metal prompted Philip to look up just as a poker from the fire place came down, missing his head by mere inches.

Quickly Philip rolled over and jumped to his feet hissing through his teeth from the burn in his backside. Before he could catch his balance the older man swung wildly missing his intended target. Beyond furious now, Philip grabbed the poker from the other man who then threw himself at Philip, knocking him back against the wall and the air whooshing from his lungs.

Both men were momentarily stunned with Philip being the one to get himself back together first. Balling his fist up, he drew back and swung, smiling when his knuckles connected with the other man's jaw. William's head snapped back as pain exploded in his face. His wild eyes rolled as he backed up then put his head down and charged at the other man's chest like a bull.

The two men fell to the floor knocking over an end table shattering it and the crystal vase that was on it. They rolled around on the floor before Philip ended up on top with both of his hands wrapped around the other man's throat squeezing the life out of him. More than once he was surprised by the older man's strength. Slowly his struggles lessened until finally they ceased all together.

Philip was picking himself up off the floor when the door to the parlor opened with his butler sticking his head in the room. "Sir, are you alright?"

He was furious that no one from his staff had done anything to help him. "Hell no Collins, the crazy son of a bitch shot me in the ass! Have someone go get the doctor and the sheriff. Someone help me up to my room. After the sheriff looks at the parlor confirming it was self-defense, get rid of that trash and have someone put the room back in order.

"Don't you have anything for the pain, you idiot?" Philip said between gritted teeth, his body drenched in sweat.

"I told you sir that your man drug me from my bed barely allowing me time to dress and grab my medical bag. He did not give me time to check and make sure I had everything that I needed before he threw me into your awaiting carriage." It was all Dr. George Evenston could do to keep a smug smile satisfaction from his face as he flat out told a lie to one of the most influential men in Savannah.

Well it was only a partial lie. He really was drug from his bed and thrown into an awaiting carriage but he had restocked his medical bag before going to bed, something he did every night. One never knew when you would be called out in the middle of the night. You always had to be prepared. He'd waited years for an opportunity to bring pain to this man.

Something that very few people knew was that he and Philip's first wife, Almyra Blackman had been in love. She had not wanted to marry Philip but her father made her. He'd never understood why either; Philip had no money or family connections. Although Almyra was beautiful to him, she was not a conventional beauty. She was nothing like any of the women Philip had been seen with until he married his second wife. He'd married both of them for their money.

Pain ripped through his chest at memory of his sweet Almyra laying at the bottom of the stairs. Her neck was broken and her body was covered in bruises. It was obvious to him that the bruises were not caused by the fall; she'd been beaten before she had been pushed down the stairs. He also knew that there was nothing he could do about it, not and live. But this, this he could do, he thought to himself as he gave another vicious poke.

"Son of a bitch! That hurts!"

"I'm almost done Mr. Huntington, just another minute or two." Dr. Evenston replied as he dropped the bullet into a little metal pan with a "tink." "I just need to put in a couple of stitches and I'll be done. You need to rest for a couple of days then you should be fine although you won't be riding any horses for a while.