Andy and Rachel had a big problem. They were madly in love with each other and had run away to Natchez, Mississippi to be married. Rachel’s abusive first husband had abandoned her, claiming he was getting a divorce. When the happy couple returned to Nashville, they discovered to their horror that he had not done so, and would publicly humiliate her by suing for divorce upon the grounds of adultery. Andy and Rachel had to marry once again when the divorce was finally over.

Rachel’s shame hurt Andy worse than the deep saber cut on his face he got as a boy for refusing to shine a British officer’s boots while being held prisoner during the Revolution. Andy’s pride mean’t more to him than anything, except the pride and honor of his beloved Rachel.
Andy also loved to race horses, and this put him in a tough crowd. A bet he placed on his horse went sour, and Andy got into an argument with one of the owners of the other horse – Charles Dickinson – known by all to be the best shot in the county. Dickinson called Andy a coward, and Rachel a bigamist. Andy demanded satisfaction at dawn the very next day, but was somehow persuaded to wait a week.
On the way to the duel Dickinson amused his companions by cutting a string with a pistol shot from eight paces, the distance agreed upon for this event, and one reserved for a duel between men intent on killing. If Andy simply walked off his four paces, turned and fired, he wouldn’t stand a chance. He came up with a plan; a desperate strategy to kill this loudmouth who had insulted Rachel and make it clear to the world that any man impugning her honor did so at the risk of his life; no matter who he was. Andy proposed to let Dickinson fire first. If he could somehow remain on his feet, the rules would require Dickinson to stand there as Andy had done, allowing for careful aim. Andy wore his shirt and coat loose against his skinny frame, so that standing sideways the exact position of his heart might be misjudged.
The two men walked off the eight paces – about twenty four feet – and Dickinson turned and fired. A puff of dust erupted from Andy’s coat… He wobbled a bit.
"Great God! Have I missed him?!" His face turning pale, Dickinson took a couple of steps back.
"Back to the mark, Sir!" Andy’s second ordered, cocking his own pistol.
Andy leveled his pistol and squeezed the trigger – click… nothing. The pistol had stopped at half-cock. Andy pulled the hammer back again, but his arm began to waiver. The shot went off, hitting Dickinson near the groin and severing his femoral artery. Within a few minutes he bled out and died.
Not until Andy and his friends left the field did they realize he was in bad shape. His right boot was filling with blood, and a large stain was spreading across his coat. The ball had crashed through his ribs under his right arm, had gone through a lung, and had come to a stop just above his heart, too close to ever risk removal. And so the bullet remained, and when they dressed his body for burial years later, above it was found a miniature of Rachel, held there by a chain around Andy’s neck.
Those curious to see what this utterly fearless man and devoted husband looked like can simply pull out a twenty dollar bill. He went on to become the seventh President of the United States – Andrew Jackson.
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