In October, Jim had gotten a Sears and Roebuck catalog in secret. Using some money his grandmother had loaned him, he ordered his brother Joe a beautiful brass "regulation" cavalry bugle, according to the sales pitch in the catalog. Jim was scared that it would not arrive in time for Christmas. It came only three days before the day.
On Christmas morning Jim said to Joe when he opened the present, "Jim, you're going to learn to play it for me, O. K.? Uncle A said he'd teach you. It ain't that hard."
Jim didn't add that his wounded lungs couldn't conquer the instrument's requirements. Joe knew, though, and seemed delighted by the gift and Jim's plans for him. By July 4, Joe was able to give the family a feeble bugle concert. Jim beamed with joy, his ashen face becoming nearly a healthy pink. Joe was accomplished by the following Christmas.
Uncle Alex was surprised by his teaching success and Joe's abilities. His eyes twinkled as he allowed, "Well Joe, it ain't as sweet as my bugle horn, but it's mighty sweet. Your daddy and the general would have kept you busy like they did me." He smiled wide, "Yes, mighty fine."
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Thin, ashen and severely weakened after nearly two years of struggle, Jim's body became an inadequate vessel for his spirit. Hemorrhaging in early March, he fought gallantly for breath and life. He did not win. He was unconscious in a blood soaked bed when Dr. Stone arrived in the middle of the night. Joe had ridden like a pony express rider the three miles to Dellrose and fetched him.
"Folks, you've done mighty good by that boy," the doctor said standing in the hall outside Jim's room with Solon and Lou after seeing Jim and giving him morphine. Nancy Bird and Joe were inside tending the stricken nineteen-year-old as he slept.
All the family, tears running down their faces, stood around the bed. Dr. Stone listened for Jim's breath and heart beat with his ear on the covered bloody nightshirt. He heard no sound. The sun rose and struck the wall through the bedroom's door as the doctor looked up to Lou. No words were necessary. They all saw his look and knew. "Through the valley of the shadow. . . ", Solon said to himself his heart bleeding into his soul.
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After the burying at Bee Springs, five miles west of the place, the family came home. It was a cold March day. After changing funeral clothes for her work clothes, Lou came into the kitchen where Solon, Dr. Burrus and Brother Cortner sat in quiet conversation. Dr, Burrus had responded to Solon's wire and come from Camp Springs, Alabama to conduct the funeral along with Brother Cortner the Methodist preacher at Dellrose.