Rebecca always hated that ring. I told her it was made from a Rebel’s leg bone.

Civil War Camp Art, PVT E. Killian 1862-1863 “Nope, nope, definitely not.”Arvel laughed at the thought. “He was an Irishman, a Catholic, what they call the Green Irish.”  He began fiddling with a ring on his right hand. He licked his finger and worked the ring off, handing it to the young man. “He made a ring for every man under him. The young deputy looked it over. It was made of bone. On top was an American Eagle holding a shield, on one side the company and the other the regiment. The carving was filled in with red and black paint. “Rebecca always hated that ring. I told her it was made from a Rebel’s leg bone. She said it was
disgusting. She never did find out it was from a beef.” The deputy handed it back and Arvel slid the ring back on. “Sgt. Mike came to America to escape the British in his home country and had been in the army since he’d arrived at seventeen.” Arvel chuckled. “My God was he a funny sonofabitch. He would constantly tease us, call us ‘me babbies’. He always knew what we needed, always got it for us. We never went hungry with Sgt. Mike around. He was in the war with Mexico. He’d been shot twice, bayoneted once, and got blown up three times in one day. Well, right after I’d been assigned to him, I heard Sgt. Mike give me advice that I have remembered to this day. I can still remember him saying it, like he was standing in the room here next to me.” The Mule Tamer