Kitabı oku: «The Courier of the Ozarks», sayfa 6

CHAPTER IX
CAPTURED BY GUERRILLAS

There is little doubt that Major Foster's plucky fight at Lone Jack saved Lexington, for had he not gone out and attacked the Confederates, they would have marched straight on that place, as was their intention.

The fight halted them and gave the Federals time to concentrate.

All danger of the Federals being driven from the State by a partisan uprising now being over, and the deep laid plans of General Hindman and other Confederate leaders being brought to naught, General Schofield resolved to concentrate his army at Springfield.

The army that was known as "The Army of the Northwest" had now been designated "The Army of the Frontier," and General Schofield decided to leave the command of the Department of Missouri in other hands and assume the command of the Army of the Frontier in person, with headquarters at Springfield.

Before returning to St. Louis business took Lawrence to Fort Leavenworth. He had not been there since 1856, when a forlorn little boy of twelve, without money and without friends, he had taken passage for St. Louis. How the memory of those days came rushing over him. The mob, the tarring and feathering of his father, Judge Lindsly taking them in, – the gallant defence of his father by Judge Lindsly, – the raid by John Brown, – the flight to Kansas, – his father's death, – it all came back to him like a mighty rushing torrent.

He wondered how Judge Lindsly was now. How was he faring in these troublesome times? Was he being robbed by both guerrillas and Federals? He determined to visit him. Perhaps he might be of some protection to him as far as the Federal side was concerned.

He spoke of his determination to the commander at Fort Leavenworth and that officer replied, "You cannot go without an escort. The country is swarming with guerrillas who never lose a chance of shooting any Federals who are unwise enough to stray outside of the lines. There is a detachment of our troops at Platte City and I will give you an escort that far. How far is it from Platte City to where Judge Lindsly lives?"

"I should say nine or ten miles," replied Lawrence.

"Well, do not try to make the trip from there without a good escort. A Captain Leeper is in command at Platte and he will readily supply you with one."

Lawrence thanked him and was ready to start when the escort, which consisted of a sergeant and five men, made their appearance.

Dan had found some old friends at Leavenworth who had been with him in the troublesome times on the border before the war, and he concluded to stay with them while Lawrence made his visit. As it turned out, it was fortunate that he did so.

Crossing the river on a ferry, Lawrence and his escort mounted their horses and started for Platte City, but a few miles away. It was with a sad heart that Lawrence looked over the country. What had been one of the most beautiful portions of the State had become almost a desolate waste. Ruined houses and deserted farms met his gaze at every turn.

When Platte City was reached Lawrence received a cordial welcome from Captain Leeper, who, on hearing his request, readily consented to give him an escort of a corporal and four men.

"A few days ago," said the Captain, "I would not have dared to send so small an escort, for a gang of bushwhackers under the command of a notorious guerrilla named Lamar has been scourging the neighborhood, but Colonel Penick, last week, came over from Liberty and scattered them. He captured two, whom he shot, and burned two or three houses whose owners had been harboring the gang. It has been very quiet ever since. I think he has thoroughly dispersed the gang."

This news was not very cheering to Lawrence. Shooting guerrillas after they were caught and burning houses did not tend to make those left less cruel.

When Lawrence came in sight of the once fine plantation of Judge Lindsly his heart bled. The fields were neglected, not half of them under cultivation, and those that were, poorly tended, but to his relief the house had not been disturbed.

Although greatly surprised, the Judge received Lawrence with open arms. "I often see your name in the papers," he said, "and rejoice at your advancement, although it is at the cost of the cause I love."

"Tell me of yourself," said Lawrence, "and all that has happened to you during the last months of trial."

The Judge sighed deeply and replied, "Look and see for yourself what this unhappy war has not only brought upon me, but on the whole State. I have been preyed upon by both Federals and guerrillas. Most of my slaves have left me. To make my position more intolerable, I am persona non grata with both sides. The guerrillas do not like me because I denounce guerrilla warfare. I tell them if the independence of the South is ever achieved, it will be done by the great armies in the field, and that the place of every man who loves and would fight for the South should be in the army, not hiding in the brush. General Price should have had the fifty thousand men he called for. He would have had them if everyone who has played the part of guerrilla had responded. With such an army he would have swept the State clear of Federals.

"I told them the late uprising of the partisan bands would only bring more misery, bloodshed and murder on the State, and nothing would be accomplished, and so it has proven.

"I was denounced for these opinions and my life has been threatened by Quantrell, Lamar and others.

"On the other hand, I am continually being threatened with arrest by the Federals. I have absolutely refused to take the oath of allegiance to the Federal Government. Now that the worst has come, I am with the South heart and soul, and I will not perjure myself."

Lawrence was deeply moved. He could only press the hand of the old Judge in sympathy and say, "If I have any influence you will never be arrested. If you ever get in trouble let me know. What I can do I will."

This the Judge promised, and when it came time to part he held Lawrence's hand lingeringly and said with emotion, "Would to God, Lawrence, you were my own son and fighting for the right, but I love you as it is. May your life be spared."

Lawrence's eyes filled with tears. He tried to speak, but his voice failed. He could only press the hand of the Judge as they parted.

Riding a short distance he turned and looked back. Judge Lindsly was still standing on the porch looking after him and waved his hand. Lawrence choked back a sob as he waved his hand in return. The once erect form of the Judge was bowed and bent; his gray hair was perfectly white, and he leaned on his cane, weak and trembling.

It was months before Lawrence saw him again, and then it was in a prison pen at Kansas City.

All unconscious of danger, Lawrence started back to Platte City. His visit had left a heavy load on his heart. He thought of the time the Judge saved his father's life, risking his own to do so, and his image rose before him, as he stood, proud, erect, like a lion at bay, facing the mob.⁷

They had covered about half the distance to Platte City without incident, Lawrence and the corporal riding side by side, the four troopers a short distance in advance.

Suddenly from a thicket two rifles blazed. The corporal fell from his horse dead, the horse which Lawrence rode plunged forward on his head, throwing Lawrence heavily, and he lay unconscious in the road.

The four troopers, seeing both Lawrence and the corporal, as they supposed, lying dead, put spurs to their horses and rode for their lives to Platte City to give the alarm.

At the head of twenty men Captain Leeper started for the scene of action, but all he found was the dead body of the corporal, and that of Lawrence's horse. The horse had been shot through the head and both saddle and bridle were missing.

The guerrillas had hung the body of the corporal from a tree and there it dangled over the road, a gruesome object. To the lapel of his coat they had pinned a paper on which was written, "The fate that awaits all Kansas Jayhawkers."

Of Lawrence there were no signs, and as night was falling, Captain Leeper returned to Platte City full of wrath, but impotent to avenge.

When the guerrillas fired the corporal was slightly in advance of Lawrence and the bullet had gone clear through his body and struck Lawrence's horse. The horse falling had saved Lawrence's life, as he being thrown had caused the second guerrilla to miss him.

When Lawrence came to, there were two guerrillas standing gloating over him. "Say, Jim," said one. "This feller ain't dead. He's wiggling. Shall I finish him?"

"No, let's take him to the captain," replied the other. "He's a Yankee officer, and if we 'uns hang him all the boys will want to see the fun."

It was not long before Lawrence fully came to. To the jeers and taunts of his captors he made no reply. But when he saw there were but two of them he mentally cursed the four escorts who had so cowardly left him to his fate.

After he was securely bound he was forced to stand while the two, with foul epithets, hung the body of the corporal over the road.

"Thar yo' un can see what yo' un are coming to," one said, grinning at Lawrence. "How do yo' un like it?"

Lawrence made no answer, and with a curse and a growl the guerrillas turned away.

Lawrence was now placed on the horse that had been ridden by the corporal, his hands tied behind him and his feet securely bound beneath the horse on which he rode. One of the guerrillas tied the halter of the horse to the saddle of the one he rode, and they started for the secret rendezvous of the gang. It was long after nightfall before they reached it.

Captain Lamar and most of the gang were found to be away, so supperless and bound, Lawrence was placed under a tree to await the morning.

The cords with which he was bound cut into his flesh and he was parched with thirst. He asked for water, but a curse was the only answer.

There throughout the rest of the night Lawrence lay, the stars looking pityingly down upon him. He could not sleep, his sufferings were too great, and there was the uncertainty of the morrow. What would the end be?

All his life passed before his mental vision in a panoramic vision. He lived it all over again.

Morning came, but Captain Lamar and the rest of the gang had not yet returned. He was given some breakfast, but taunted with the fact that it would be his last meal on earth. Better than the food was the water which cooled his parched mouth and tongue. No nectar that ever flowed tasted half so sweet.

About nine o'clock Captain Lamar came. He was in a towering rage, for his expedition had failed and he had lost two men.

When told two of his men had killed a Yankee and captured a Yankee captain, he asked what had been done with the captain.

"He is heah," said one of the men. "We 'uns have been waitin' to see what yo' un wanted to do with him."

"Hang him or shoot him, I don't care which," he growled as he turned away. "I'm tired and hungry and want some breakfast."

The Captain's decision was told, but the gang decided to wait until the men who came in with the Captain had had breakfast, so all could enjoy the sport. To the savage men the hanging or shooting of a Yankee was an enjoyable event.

When breakfast was over there was quite a discussion as to whether Lawrence should be hung or shot. Those in favor of hanging carried the day, so he was led under the projecting limb of a tree and a rope placed around his neck.

Lawrence felt all hope was gone. He was standing face to face with death. For a moment he felt faint and a deadly fear seized him. Few there be who in health and strength can face Death without a fear. As they look him in his face and his shadowy wings cover them, nature recoils and would flee from him.

But it was only a moment that Lawrence feared. He gulped back the lump in his throat; his trembling nerves became as steel. He was a man – a soldier again. He had faced death on the battlefield without a quiver and he would do so now, though this was different, it was coming in such a horrible form; but he would face it. He looked into the scowling faces around him without a sign of fear.

"What do yo' un have to say before we 'uns string you up?" demanded one of the men.

"Nothing," answered Lawrence, "but I would be thankful if you would inform Judge Lindsly of my fate. He at least will give my body a decent burial."

At this the guerrillas burst into a boisterous laugh. "That's a good one," they cried. "He reckons we 'uns bury the Yanks we 'uns hang. Young feller, we 'uns will pitch your carcass in the brush and leave it for the buzzards to pick – that is, if a Missouri buzzard will pick a dead Yank."

At this sally there was another burst of laughter.

Just then there came a diversion. One of the men, Cal Jones, who had been one of the party with Lamar, had missed a Federal soldier at short range, and his companions were guying him unmercifully.

"Why," drawled one called Hooper, "Cal couldn't hit a barn door at fifty paces."

Cal was hopping mad. "I'll bet yo 'un a hoss I ken put a ball through that Yank's heart at fifty paces," he roared.

"Done," exclaimed Hooper. "Heah, boys, stop that picnic for a few moments. Cal has bet me a hoss he can plug that Yank through the heart at fifty paces the first shot."

Some of the men began to demur, but Hooper, in a tantalizing tone, drawled, "Don't be skeered, boys. Cal will sure miss him, and we 'uns can have our fun afterwards."

"I'll show yo' un. I'll show yo' un," yelled Cal, hopping around like a mad turkey.

They now all fell in with the idea, and Lawrence was placed with his back against a tree. To him the diversion came as a welcome relief. He would now die like a soldier and not like a felon.

"Hold on thar!" cried Hooper, as Jones began to pace the distance. "I said fifty paces, not fifty steps. Yo' un don't come that on me."

"I am pacin'." snarled Cal. "Want to back out, do yer?"

"Not much, but I'll do that pacin' myself." And he began.

"No, yer don't," yelled Cal. The men were about to fight when the others interfered, saying it was only fair a third party should do the pacing. This was agreed to and the pacing duly done. Jones took his position, a huge navy revolver in his hand.

Lawrence stood facing him. Not a muscle quivered as he looked his would-be executioner in the eye.

Jones raised his weapon. "Stand back," yelled Hooper. "Don't get too close, some of yo' uns will get hurt. The Yank is in no danger."

Jones fired, but he was too angry to shoot straight, and his shot went wild.

"What did I tell yo' un? What did I tell yo' un?" cried Hooper. "Never teched the Yank or tree, either," and he kicked up his heels like a young colt. "That hoss is mine."

The whole crowd shouted in derision, and Jones, in anger, fired every shot in his revolver before they could stop him. Lawrence stood unmoved and smiling. One shot had struck the tree an inch above his head, another had passed between his arm and body, and a third had cut a little piece out of his coat on the shoulder. The humorous aspect of the affair struck him, and he laughed outright.

The guerrillas simply went crazy with delight. Many of them threw themselves on the ground rolling and kicking with laughter.

Captain Lamar heard the shots and the uproar and came to see what it meant. He had just finished his breakfast and was in a little better humor. When he heard what had happened he remarked with a cruel smile, "Turn about is fair play. Better put Cal up, and see what the Yank can do."

This suggestion took like wildfire. Cal was seized by his comrades and, frightened and begging for his life, was being hustled to the tree to take Lawrence's place when the Captain interfered. "Hold on, boys," he said. "I only wanted to frighten Cal. But if he don't learn to be a better shot I'll hang him sure. But that Yank must be a gritty fellow. I'll have a look at him."

"Gritty," said one of the men. "Well, I should say so. He turned kind of white around the gills when he first felt the halter around his neck, and then braced up and not a whimper. Why, he actually laughed when Cal was shooting at him."

"That was because Cal was shooting so wild," remarked the Captain.

"Three of the shots came mighty close to him. Only missed him by a hair's breadth."

"Glad to hear Cal is improving," said Lamar dryly, as he walked towards Lawrence.

He had no sooner looked him in the face than an expression of surprise came over his countenance. He stepped back, swept his hand across his eyes, as if he was brushing away something, looked again and then turned away, saying, "There'll be no hanging. Untie the prisoner and bring him to my tent."

The men gazed at each other in astonishment. But great as was their surprise, greater was Lawrence's. The shock was almost as great as when he thought he had to die. Then he began to realize he had stepped from the shadow of death, and there was hope of living, and he breathed a prayer of thankfulness.

His surprise grew when Lamar called the two men who had captured him and asked what they had of his.

"Everything, Captain, but his hoss. That was killed. But we 'uns have got the hoss of the Yank that was killed," they answered.

"Well, bring everything you have of his, and the horse you captured – saddled and bridled," he ordered, and the men departed wondering.

When Lawrence was brought before Lamar he asked him what he was doing in this part of the country. Lawrence told him he had been to visit Judge Lindsly, who had greatly befriended him when he was small.

"Are you the boy whose father was tarred and feathered, and the Judge took you both in?"

"I am."

Lamar chuckled. "Say, boy, do you know I was in that crowd?"

"No," answered Lawrence, more astonished than ever.

"Well, I was. But here is your horse and everything taken from you. You are at liberty to take them and ride away. Nay, more, I will send an escort with you to protect you until you are near the lines of your friends."

Lawrence's lips trembled and his voice was husky as he answered, "Captain, I don't know why you have granted me such clemency, but I am thankful from the bottom of my heart. Be assured if the time ever comes when I can return you the same mercy you have shown me it will be done."

"We are at quits now," said Lamar. "You saved my life once."

"I?" cried Lawrence. "I never remember having seen you before."

"You have. About a year ago I belonged to a body of partisans commanded by Captain Proctor. A fellow by name of Semans peached on us. We paid him off by burning his buildings and shooting him. Just as we finished the job a body of cavalry charged down and drove us off. I was left on the field desperately wounded. Some of the men were about to shoot me as I lay there helpless, but the captain of the cavalry, a mere boy, sprang in, with his sword, beat down the guns, and swore that no wounded man, no matter what he had done, should be ruthlessly murdered while he was commanding that company. Captain, you are that boy; I am that wounded man."

"Ah, I remember," murmured Lawrence.

"That is not all," continued Lamar. "You tenderly cared for me, had me taken to a near-by house, where I stayed until I recovered. Captain, no thanks. As I have said, we are quits now. If we meet again it will be on even terms. One promise you must make me. You must not lead the Federals to this place for the next twenty-four hours. After that I do not care."

"The promise is freely given," answered Lawrence.

The two men, so strangely met, shook hands, and Lawrence mounted his horse and, accompanied by two of the guerrillas, rode away.

On the way they met several rough-looking men who looked at Lawrence with malevolent eyes, but a few whispered words from his guards and they were allowed to pass on. Lawrence now saw why Captain Lamar had sent a guard with him.

After they had traveled several miles Lawrence saw a line of blue galloping towards him.

"Go, I will see you are not followed," he said to his guards. They raised their hands in salute, turned, and putting spurs to their horses, were soon out of sight.

In a moment more Lawrence was in the arms of Dan Sherman, who was hugging him, laughing and crying at the same time.

"I'll never leave you again," he cried.

"It is fortunate that you did," replied Lawrence, "for if you had been with me there would be no Dan Sherman now."

The officer in command of the company now bustled up. "Did I not see two men with you, Captain?" he asked. "They looked to me very much like guerrillas."

"They were friends," answered Lawrence. "Neither can I guide you to the haunts of those who held me prisoner. Tomorrow you are at liberty to find them if you can. Turn back with me to Platte City and I will tell you my story."

When they heard the story they marvelled and swore they had never heard of any gratitude in a guerrilla's heart before.⁸