Trip to Missouri with four men.—Attempt to rob Taylor‘s
store.—Fight with Lieut. Brown and his soldiers.—Killed
Miller and Johnson at Flat Woods.—Return home from his last
raid.—The war is pronounced to be at an end.—Reflections on the
termination of the war.—Mrs. Hildebrand‘s advice.—The parole at
Jacksonport.
When the war first broke out in Missouri, and after the persecutions
against the Hildebrand family had become so intolerable that I was
compelled to flee the country, I owed a small debt to D. W. Taylor, a
merchant living at Valley‘s Mines, in Jefferson county.
After the mob had destroyed my property and driven me into the Southern
army for protection, it was impossible for me to pay the debt during
the struggle.
In all communities there are “land sharks” who are willing to befriend
an intended victim to a certain extent, but who are ready at the first
approach of an unforseen disaster to gobble up his lands.
In this instance, Taylor attached my interest in the Hildebrand
homestead, and while the country was in the ebullition of civil war,
had it sold at public vendue, bidding it in himself for a mere nominal
sum.
For this little piece of ingenuity I now determined to award him with a
clear title to another small tract of land, four feet by six, to have
and to hold, as his own individual possession, until Gabriel should
blow his horn.
With this intention, on the 28th day of April, 1865, I started with
four men for another raid into Missouri. We made our way quietly and
cautiously through the southern counties of Missouri, all of which were
now held by Federal soldiers, for the protection of the citizens—the
_protection_, however, being the same kind that the vulture gave the
lamb.
Reaching Big river late in the night, we repaired to the Pike Run hills
and slept until morning. Knowing that we would be more apt to catch
Taylor in daytime, we started in the morning and rode over to Taylor‘s
store, which was distant only about six miles. He was not at home, and
having no time to lose, we went into his store and commenced selecting
such goods as we wanted, when we were suddenly run on to by some
Federal soldiers, under Lieut. Brown, from Perry county, but who was
at that time stationed at Big River Mills, with forty men, one-half of
whom he had with him on the present occasion.
They came up within two hundred yards of the store, and commenced
firing and yelling at a terrible rate. We ran out to our horses,
which were tied to the brush not more than forty yards off, but on
the opposite side from the soldiers. One of my men was killed by an
accidental shot, and another one who happened to be a new recruit left
his horse and ran off through the woods, leaving me with an _army_ of
only two men, besides myself, to repel the attack of twenty regulars.
The Federals, however, after their first fire, took refuge behind some
old houses about one hundred and fifty yards off, and from there showed
us a very harmless and cowardly fight. After I gained my horse, I used
him for a fortification and shot several rounds at them; occasionally I
could see one‘s head bob around a corner, but they were out of range,
and my shots fell harmless to the ground. My other two men now left me
alone, and for several minutes I remained, trying to get a dead shot at
one of the Federals; but having no chance to do so, without charging
them by myself, I mounted my horse and retreated, leaving my dead man
upon the ground, whom they charged and shot several times after I left.
I went on to an adjoining hill, but failing to find my men, I rattled
my cow bell, which I had with me for emergencies of this kind, and in
half an hour my three men were with me.
Having made a complete failure, it is not unreasonable to suppose that
we felt very much chagrined at our ill luck, and knowing that if we
started south then, we would be annoyed by Federals on our trail, we
repaired again to the Pike Run hills for safety, where we could easily
have whipped all the forces within the three surrounding counties. My
comrade who was on foot went about four miles to the house of an old
acquaintance and obtained a horse, by promising to return him again in
six weeks; which promise, I will here state, he afterwards faithfully
performed.
It was now about the middle of May, and we were anxious to be on our
way back; so we started one night and went as far as Flat Woods.
Before McIlvaine and the soldiers had driven me from there, I became
acquainted with two men, George Miller and Joseph Johnson, who
professed great friendship for me; but some time after my expulsion
from that neighborhood, they visited my house and used abusive language
to my wife, making threats what they intended to do with me. Johnson
had the impudence to remark that he intended to kill me and bring my
head to her swinging to the horn of his saddle.
These were not vain threats, for they watched for me for a long time;
but after they learned a little more about me, they were very shy, and
up to the present time I had never got my eyes upon either of them.
Late in the evening, on the next day after our arrival in the
neighborhood, as I was passing a house I saw a lady dressing some
butter, and wishing for a good drink of buttermilk, I alighted a
moment and went in the house. As I was dressed in Federal uniform, the
good woman asked me if I was hunting for Sam Hildebrand; on telling
her that I was, she went on to give me the particulars of our affray
at Taylor‘s store, ascribing to the Federal arms the most brilliant
victory, by stating that “Lieut. Brown, with only twenty men, ran upon
Hildebrand‘s Bushwhackers and completely routed them, killing fourteen
and wounding several more; a great many soldiers are now after him,
and have him surrounded in a place where he can never get back here to
bother us again!” I asked her if she would please give Sam Hildebrand a
drink of buttermilk? She looked at me a moment and then replied: “Yes,
sir; you can have all in the churn if you want it.”
Not long after leaving there, I found Mr. Miller in his field, and
shot him. After night I found Mr. Johnson at home, took him out of the
house, and cut off his head with my bowie knife.
The reader will perceive that the threats of Johnson would have been
completely reversed if I had carried his head to his wife swinging
to the horn of my saddle; but instead of imitating his designs any
further, I leisurely pursued my way home to our headquarters in Green
county, Arkansas.
On the next day after my arrival at home, Capt. Bolin called on me and
stated that he wished us all to meet him at headquarters that evening
at three o‘clock. At the time appointed I was there, and so were about
forty more of the boys, most of whom had just returned from their
various scouts.
The Captain seemed a little agitated, and for several minutes after we
were all assembled he did not say a word. Presently he began, and these
are about his words:
“GENTLEMEN: It is my wish that we remain quietly at
headquarters a few days until my other scouting parties return.
“I wish to say to you now that, in my opinion, this war has virtually
closed. General Lee, the great head and front of all our hopes, as you
are already aware, was compelled to succumb to superior numbers, and
surrender on the 12th day of April. General Johnston surrendered on the
18th of the same month. The hopes held out by General Kirby Smith in
his general order issued at Shreveport can never be realized.
“The Southern Confederacy is at an end; our course must be governed by
circumstances over which we have no control.
“The course we have pursued during the struggle is only justified by
the fact that a great war existed. While the eyes of the world have
been riveted on great actors and on events of an astounding magnitude,
the minor details of the struggle have been overlooked. That condition
of affairs now no longer exists; the war has ceased, and our operations
must cease also.
“Finally, it is my request that each and every one of you submit
manfully to the same terms that have been forced upon our great
chieftains; that is: Lay down your arms, surrender on parole, and
return to the pursuits of peace.”
This little speech fell like a wet blanket on most of the men, and I
must confess that I was one of that number; but we held Capt. Bolin in
such high esteem that not a murmur of dissent was suffered to drop
from the lips of any of his men.
On the next day, however, the matter was fully discussed in every camp.
Nine-tenths of the men fully indorsed the statements made by our noble
captain, and I could not but acknowledge that his reasoning seemed
plausible; yet I was annoyed beyond all measure by the reflection that
the war had suddenly ceased before I was done fighting.
I cared not so much about the general result. I knew but little, and
cared still less, about the great political problem that the war was
supposed to have solved, nor to the technical question discussed by
old fossil statesmen, whether the States formed the Union or the
Union formed the States, whether the South had inherent rights or
whether inherent rights had the South, whether the General Government
was a restricted agent of the people, or whether the people were the
restricted agents of the General Government.
These questions probably originated with the antediluvians, and they
ought to have been left to a committee of twelve Egyptian mummies, with
the “man in the moon” for chairman.
The practical question with me was, whether all the scoundrels in the
nation were yet killed off or not. As far as my knowledge extended, the
war had only gobbled up about one-tenth of them.
Most of those men who had composed the Vigilance mob on Big river were
yet alive. They were in the centre of military camps, crawling around
the feet of Federal officers, and whining for protection against my
vengeance.
To reach them it would be necessary to overthrow the Federal power;
just that far my heart was in the National war.
My mind was troubled by the reflection that as soon as the war should
be ended, all those cowardly miscreants would crawl out from their
hiding places, boast of their loyalty, make a grand rush for office,
swing their hats, and cry out: “Well, didn‘t _we_ whip them?”
I made up my mind that, for my part, I would take as many of the boys
as were determined never to surrender, escape to Texas if possible,
fight under Gen. Kirby Smith until he should surrender, and then make
our way into Mexico—there to annoy the Federal Government all I could
until I could get another “whack” at my old enemies.
I thought, however, that I would consult my wife for once, and see what
she thought about it. She looked serious for a minute, and then burst
out into a laugh.
“I once heard about some little boys,” said she, “who were left at home
by their parents, who had gone to church. One of them discovered a rat
which had taken refuge under a pile of lumber in the yard; but the boys
tore away the lumber, splitting about half the boards. The rat then ran
under the ash-hopper, and when that was torn down it took refuge under
the barn floor. One of the boys ran to the house for matches, in order
to burn out the rat; but his little sister, the youngest one in the
crowd, cried out: ‘If you burn the rat we will have no barn!‘ The boys
saw the force of her reasoning, and made peace with the rat. So I would
advise you to make no further efforts toward destroying the Federal
barn for such a purpose.”
I must confess that this little speech from my wife, given in such good
humor, contained a little more good sense than anything I had heard for
a long time.
It sounded a little like a Union speech, and seemed strange on that
account; but, although I had not at first the least idea of ever
swerving from my purpose, yet I now determined to follow her advice,
for I concluded that as she had waded through the hardships of war with
a devotion to me that has but few parallels in the history of mankind,
I ought to respect her comfort as well as my own.
On the next day I told Capt. Bolin that I consented to his arrangement.
He started on to Jacksonport to give in the list of his men, and I
started a few days afterwards to the same place, and received my parole
on the 26th day of May, 1865, the very day on which General Kirby Smith
surrendered at Shreveport.
The war now being over, I tried to banish the subject from my mind as
much as possible, and soon went to work on the place I still occupied,
for no owner had yet returned to claim it. Most of our men were afraid
to return to their homes in Missouri while a remembrance of our
depredations were still fresh in the minds of the people, and went to
farming in different parts of Green county.
With what I captured during the war I did not have more than half
as much property as I had lost by the hands of the Vigilance mob in
Missouri.
One might suppose that, from the name my enemies gave me, I might have
grown rich by my depredations during the war; but such was not the
fact; plunder was only a secondary consideration with me; I resorted to
it merely to sustain myself while I pursued my main leading object—that
of killing my enemies.
We sustained ourselves during the whole war off of our enemies. If
objections are made to that kind of warfare, I can point to the example
of Sherman, in Georgia, and to a host of other Federal commanders, both
great and small, even down to that pigmy lump of insignificance—the
Big River Militia. But, unlike those illustrious examples, we did
not charge our government with anything we captured; neither was I a
burden to the Confederacy to the amount of one dollar; neither did I
ever stoop so low as to become an incendiary, and burn out my enemies.
I left that for the Indians to do, and for those who saw proper to
imitate them.
So, at the close of the war, and in fact during its whole continuance,
I was poor, and my family were in straitened circumstances; but I
went to work and raised a good crop of corn and everything else that
we needed. In the spring of 1866 I rented another place in a better
locality, and farmed on a larger scale. This I also did on the year
following, and at the close of 1867 I had succeeded in rendering myself
and family as comfortable as could be expected.
The negro boy I had taken from Free Jim, in St. Francois county, still
remained with me; he was free, I suppose, but he seemed to prefer good
living and light work to “free starvation.”