The Last Rebel

There's a grey horse standin' still As a soldier climbs in the saddle for one last ride. As the rain pours off his hat, You can see the shadows of the past written in his eyes. Now the cannons are silent. His friends are all gone. Gotta put it all behind him. If he ever wants to find his way home. He's the last rebel on the road. This is my first story on here so feel free to criticize. The protagonist of this story is a confederate bushwhacker. He is forced to run from the traumas of war mentally, and physically from the Federal authorities. If you reach the epilogue you have reached the end. I'm thinking of expanding this story later but I want to keep it to one main path for simplicities sake. Hopefully I can get it done in time for the Culture Clash contest.