QUESTIONABLE PROCEEDINGS.
Having been away from home nearly a year, and having occasionally heard
of my mother's poor health, I determined to make her a visit; so
procuring a pass over the road, I went to Leavenworth, arriving there
about June 1st, 1861, going from there home. The civil war had broken
out, and excitement ran high in that part of the country. My mother, of
course, was a strong Union woman, and had such great confidence in the
government that she believed the war would not last over six months.
Leavenworth at that time was quite an important outfitting post for the
West and Southwest, and the fort there was garrisoned by a large number
of troops. While in the city one day I met several of the old, as well as
the young men, who had been members of the Free State party all through
the Kansas troubles, and who had, like our family, lost everything at the
hands of the Missourians. They now thought a good opportunity offered to
retaliate and get even with their persecutors, as they were all
considered to be secessionists. That they were all secessionists,
however, was not true, as all of them did not sympathize with the South.
But the Free State men, myself among them, took it for granted that as
Missouri was a slave state the inhabitants must all be secessionists, and
therefore our enemies. A man by the name of Chandler proposed that we
organize an independent company for the purpose of invading Missouri and
making war on its people on our own responsibility. He at once went about
it in a very quiet way, and succeeded in inducing twenty-five men to join
him in the hazardous enterprise. Having a longing and revengeful desire
to retaliate upon the Missourians for the brutal manner in which they had
treated and robbed my family, I became a member of Chandler's company.
His plan was that we should leave our homes in parties of not more than
two or three together, and meet at a certain point near Westport,
Missouri, on a fixed day. His instructions were carried out to the
letter, and we met at the rendezvous at the appointed time. Chandler had
been there some days before us, and, thoroughly disguised, had been
looking around the country for the whereabouts of all the best horses. He
directed us to secretly visit certain farms and collect all the horses
possible, and bring them together the next night. This we did, and upon
reassembling it was found that nearly every man had two horses. We
immediately struck out for the Kansas line, which we crossed at an Indian
ferry on the Kansas river, above Wyandotte, and as soon as we had set
foot upon Kansas soil we separated with the understanding; that we were
to meet one week from that day at Leavenworth.
[Illustration: NEARLY EVERY MAN HAD TWO HORSES.]
Some of the parties boldly took their confiscated horses into
Leavenworth, while others rode them to their homes. This action may look
to the reader like horse-stealing, and some people might not hesitate to
call it by that name; but Chandler plausibly maintained that we were only
getting back our own, or the equivalent, from the Missourians, and as the
government was waging war against the South, it was perfectly square and
honest, and we had a good right to do it. So we didn't let our
consciences trouble us very much.
We continued to make similar raids upon the Missourians off and on during
the summer, and occasionally we had running fights with them; none of the
skirmishes, however, amounting to much.
The government officials hearing of our operations, put detectives upon
our track, and several of the party were arrested. My mother, upon
learning that I was engaged in this business, told me it was neither
honorable nor right, and she would not for a moment countenance any such
proceedings. Consequently I abandoned the jay-hawking enterprise, for
such it really was.
About this time the government bought from Jones and Cartwright several
ox-trains, which were sent to Rolla, Missouri, all being put in charge of
my old and gallant friend, Wild Bill, who had just become the hero of the
day, on account of a terrible fight which he had had with a gang of
desperadoes and outlaws, who infested the border under the leadership of
the then notorious Jake McCandless. In this fight he had killed
McCandless and three of his men.
The affair occurred while Wild Bill was riding the pony express in
western Kansas.
The custom with the express riders, when within half a mile of a
station, was either to begin shouting or blowing a horn in order to
notify the stock tender of his approach, and to have a fresh horse
already saddled for him on his arrival, so that he could go right on
without a moment's delay.
One day, as Wild Bill neared Rock Creek station, where he was to change
horses, he began shouting as usual at the proper distance; but the
stock-tender, who had been married only a short time and had his wife
living with him at the station, did not make his accustomed appearance.
Wild Bill galloped up and instead of finding the stock-tender ready for
him with a fresh horse, he discovered him lying across the stable door
with the blood oozing from a bullet-hole in his head. The man was dead,
and it was evident that he had been killed only a few moments before.
In a second Wild Bill jumped from his horse, and looking in the direction
of the house he saw a man coming towards him. The approaching man fired
on him at once, but missed his aim. Quick as lightning Wild Bill pulled
his revolver and returned the fire. The stranger fell dead, shot through
the brain.
"Bill, Bill! Help! Help! save me!" Such was the cry that Bill now heard.
It was the shrill and pitiful voice of the dead stock-tender's wife, and
it came from a window of the house. She had heard the exchange of shots,
and knew that Wild Bill had arrived.
He dashed over the dead body of the villain whom he had killed, and just
as he sprang into the door of the house, he saw two powerful men
assaulting the woman. One of the desperadoes was in the act of striking
her with the butt end of a revolver, and while his arm was still raised,
Bill sent a ball crashing through his skull, killing him instantly. Two
other men now came rushing from an adjoining room, and Bill, seeing that
the odds were three to one against him, jumped into a corner, and then
firing, he killed another of the villains. Before he could shoot again
the remaining two men closed in upon him, one of whom had drawn a large
bowie knife. Bill wrenched the knife from his grasp and drove it through
the heart of the outlaw.
[Illustration: WILD BILL AND THE OUTLAWS.]
The fifth and last man now grabbed Bill by the throat, and held him at
arm's length, but it was only for a moment, as Bill raised his own
powerful right arm and struck his antagonist's left arm such a terrible
blow that he broke it. The disabled desperado, seeing that he was no
longer a match for Bill, jumped through the door, and mounting a horse he
succeeded in making his escape--being the sole survivor of the Jake
McCandless gang.
Wild Bill remained at the station with the terrified woman until the
stage came along, and he then consigned her to the care of the driver.
Mounting his horse he at once galloped off, and soon disappeared in the
distance, making up for lost time.
This was the exploit that was on everybody's tongue and in every
newspaper. It was one of the most remarkable and desperate hand to hand
encounters that has ever taken place on the border.
I happened to meet Wild Bill at Leavenworth as he was about to depart for
Rolla; he wished me to take charge of the government trains as a sort of
assistant under him, and I gladly accepted the offer. Arriving at Rolla,
we loaded the trains with freight and took them to Springfield, Missouri.
On our return to Rolla we heard a great deal of talk about the
approaching fall races at St. Louis, and Wild Bill having brought a fast
running horse from the mountains, determined to take him to that city and
match him against some of the high-flyers there; and down to St. Louis we
went with this running horse, placing our hopes very high on him.
Wild Bill had no difficulty in making up a race for him. All the money
that he and I had we put up on the mountain runner, and as we thought we
had a sure thing, we also bet the horse against $250. I rode the horse
myself, but nevertheless, our sure thing, like many another sure thing,
proved a total failure, and we came out of that race minus the horse and
every dollar we had in the world.
Before the race it had been "make or break" with us, and we got "broke."
We were "busted" in the largest city we had ever been in, and it is no
exaggeration to say that we felt mighty blue.
On the morning after the race we went to the military headquarters, where
Bill succeeded in securing an engagement for himself as a government
scout, but I being so young failed in obtaining similar employment. Wild
Bill, however, raised some money, by borrowing it from a friend, and then
buying me a steamboat ticket he sent me back to Leavenworth, while he
went to Springfield, which place he made his headquarters while scouting
in southeastern Missouri.
One night, after he had returned from a scouting expedition, he took a
hand in a game of poker, and in the course of the game he became involved
in a quarrel with Dave Tutt, a professional gambler, about a watch which
he had won from Tutt, who would not give it up.
Bill told him he had won it fairly, and that he proposed to have it;
furthermore, he declared his intention of carrying the watch across the
street next morning to military headquarters, at which place he had to
report at nine o'clock.
Tutt replied that he would himself carry the watch across the street at
nine o'clock, and no other man would do it.
Bill then said to Tutt that if he attempted anything of the kind, he
would kill him.
A challenge to a duel had virtually been given and accepted, and
everybody knew that the two men meant business. At nine o'clock the next
morning, Tutt started to cross the street. Wild Bill, who was standing on
the opposite side, told him to stop. At that moment Tutt, who was
carrying his revolver in his hand, fired at Bill but missed him. Bill
quickly pulled out his revolver and returned the fire, hitting Tutt
squarely in the forehead and killing him instantly.
Quite a number of Tutt's friends were standing in the vicinity, having
assembled to witness the duel, and Bill, as soon as Tutt fell to the
ground, turned to them and asked if any one of them wanted to take it up
for Tutt; if so, he would accommodate any of them then and there. But
none of them cared to stand in front of Wild Bill to be shot at by him.
Nothing of course was ever done to Bill for the killing of Tutt.