I wasn't sure if the protest had started at the mouth of the trail so they could walk down it, or if they'd just ended up at the start of the trail because they were stopping traffic on one of the busiest streets in Mooresville.
Regardless of what they'd intended, they were now not only disrupting the traffic on the road, but also causing a whole lot of ruckus in the area and offending every single citizen, not just the Veterans, in the general vicinity.
"The funeral procession is supposed to take this route in about five minutes," I heard one of the protesters say. "Get your flags ready."
A kid stood up, and reached for another flag that he had left carelessly laying on the ground.
The minute it was in his hand, he reached for the lighter that another boy was holding out to him and struck the ignitor with his thumb to spark the lighter when Brady, cane in one hand and holding onto a park bench with the other, brought the cane down onto the boy whose intention was to burn the flag.
Right over the back of the other kid's head.
The boy was stunned, falling to his knees, and dropping the lighter before it could so much as flame.
Sean jerked as he seemed to get his wits about him and finally moved.
Butterfinger, who was still in my hold at my side, lurched forward, trying to get to her master, and would've taken me down to my knees had Sean not waded in.
Grabbing Butterfinger before she could even make it a step, he pulled her over to the dog park and locked her behind the fence before turning back to the crowd that was now circling Brady.
Brady, who looked not one single bit concerned about the angry mob that was surrounding him, started yelling at the kids.
"This is my flag!" he bellowed. "I fought for this flag! I bled for this flag! I lost friends and family for this flag. All so you all could do dumb shit like this instead of using the brains that God gave you!"
Oh. Shit.
The crowd moved in even closer, surrounding Brady.
But then Sean was there, parting the crowd with his bare hands and a whole lot of strength.
"Move!"
Sean's bellow made everyone in the vicinity freeze, and slowly part until Brady was able to extricate himself from the sea of protesters.
"You will not burn another flag," Sean's words were horrific in their power and anger. "Or I will make sure your hands don't work to light another fucking lighter."
Those simple, short, bold words were said out of lips that I adored.
"You can try to make us."
Sean's eyes turned to a smartass girl standing on the edge of the crowd. He was so calm, that I wondered if the other shoe was going to drop.
"Let me see. Delaney, right?"
The girl looked startled.
"Isn't your brother in the Marines?"
Delaney looked startled that Sean would know that.
"N-no."
Sean smiled; it wasn't a pretty smile, either.
In fact, it was quite intimidating.
Which was felt by some of the other protesters because they all took a few steps back and looked around nervously. There had to be at least fifty of them, and every single one of them was watching Sean like he was a freakin' army instead of a single man.
"I was there when he came home from his last deployment. Part of his welcome home party, actually. I know who your brother is, and I know who you are." He frowned at the girl. "Though, I thought your parents raised you better than this."
Sean's head turned. "And you."
He pointed at the boy who had passed her the lighter.
"Isn't your mother retired from the Army?"
And so it went.
I was so surprised by the number of people Sean knew that I wasn't paying attention to the kid on the ground who Brady had struck until he was up on his knees. He was swinging a stick that he'd found right at my man who didn't notice until it was too late.
The stick hit Sean in the back of the thigh, missing his knee by only a few scant inches.
The stick broke over the back of Sean's leg, and the reaction it drew from Sean was that he staggered forward slightly, trying to avoid stepping further into the crowd of protesters any more than he already was.
The crowd went silent, and I started toward Sean to make sure that he was all right, but Brady grabbed my arm before I could even make it a step.
"Sean!" I cried out.
Sean looked down at the kid, then reached forward and picked him up by the collar of his shirt.
And by up, I mean the kid was dangling above the ground, the tips of his sneaker covered toes just barely grazing it.
"I served my country for years," he announced to the stupid kid. "I watched two of my best friends in the whole world die by rifle fire during an attack on our unit. Held their hands while blood pumped out of their chests, as they cried and asked me to tell their wives and kids that they loved them. To tell their mothers that they were sorry. Tell their fathers that they would miss throwing the ball around on Christmas."