Across the Great Divide

by Michael Ross

  Three men climbed into a canoe left by the bank and made their way out into the river. They almost tipped over, but were successful in setting fire to the boat. Will wasn’t sure why the boat wasn’t set adrift according to plan, but within a few minutes, the Federals on the shore saw the fire, and the cavalry troop came charging.

  Will again felt that tug in his chest that came when he was required to kill to save his friends. He aimed more for the horses than the men, and managed to get off about five shots, each hitting its mark, before Morgan and the others came galloping back toward them. Just as he rose to run down the stairs, one of those with Morgan fell back out of his saddle.

  Will jumped on Toby, ramming the Whitworth into its scabbard, and again took the rear as the Raiders galloped back toward camp. The Federals were in hot pursuit. Will heard the whine and whiz of bullets passing by, but he bent low over his horse to offer less of a target. Ahead, Morgan signaled for the group to split, some following a straight south path, others going southwest, to confuse the Federals and reduce their number, perhaps decreasing the intensity of fire. Galloping in the dark was hazardous enough without angry minie balls whizzing around him. Will began to pray, asking God’s protection. Just when he was wondering whether he should dismount and shoot to protect the rest, Will heard the hoofbeats in pursuit fade. The Federals were giving up the chase.

  Morgan signaled a walk, to rest the horses. Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief. They walked for perhaps two miles, gaining the Murfreesboro Pike. Just as they turned onto the Pike, a Federal patrol came out of nowhere. Morgan signaled a charge. The Raiders gave a rebel yell and charged the surprised Federals like gray banshees in the moonlight, firing and screaming. It was over in seconds, with the Federals in full retreat, though they outnumbered Morgan’s men. Will’s heart hammered his ribs, but he joined his fellows in exulting on their victory as they road back to camp, arriving about midnight. Will and Archie fell into their bunks, exhausted from the emotion and exertion of the raid. Tomorrow, they would hold a brief service for Peter Atherton, the one of their company lost in the attack. He felt some guilt, wondering if he had stayed on the roof just another couple of minutes—might he have been able to prevent Peter’s death? Will feared Peter might be the first of many. Tonight had been close. The whine of bullets around him was something new. Their previous night excursions had little resistance.

  ✳ ✳ ✳

  March 1862

  The next day, the entire command packed up and marched to Murfreesboro. Will happened to see Morgan passing by.

  “Sir? Why the retreat, sir?”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t call it a retreat, Will. Just a strategic relocation. I believe there will be some significant fighting in the days ahead. We are to be under Breckinridge’s command. Besides protecting the rear, Murfreesboro has some other, shall we say, attractions? You should use your free time to find them,” said Morgan, smiling.

  “Sir?”

  “I’ve found a young lady there. Perhaps you might as well.”

  “No, sir. Thanks, but I’ve already had my heart broken once. I don’t care to venture it again, when life is so uncertain.”

  Morgan looked serious. “Ah, yes—I remember. And you were very kind when my wife died. Will, life is always uncertain. That’s what I’ve learned. You think you know what will happen, but none of us really do. You have to take things as they come, grab life by the throat, and shake it till it gives you what you want. If you can’t adapt to what life throws at you, you’ll always fail. Good shooting last night, by the way.”

  Patting Will on the shoulder, he moved on through the camp.

  Over the next few days, Will alternately spent time drilling and waiting for something to happen. As if by design to encourage him to follow Morgan’s idea of relaxation, Will was not chosen to go out on the missions waylaying Federal messengers and supply wagons. Archie related how they surrounded messengers, interrogated them, and sent them back to their camp on foot, in their underwear.

  Some of the other fellows tried to interest Will in trying the pleasures of the camp followers, women who acted as laundresses, prostitutes, or both, following the army from camp to camp.

  “C’mon, Crump! Gotta have a little fun. You ‘fraid of a girl?”

  “No. I just don’t want to do something I’ll regret.”

  “Oh, I forgot—you one of them Bible guys. I’ll introduce you to Bessie—she’ll keep you a lot warmer tonight, and you’ll forget all about that Bible.”

  Will just shook his head. “I’ll remember just fine, especially when you’re getting treated for the clap. No, I’ll just read my Bible, thanks.”

  The next morning, after drill, Duke came to see Will.

  “We’re gonna have fun with some Federals. Morgan wants you to come. Bring some rope.”

  ✳ ✳ ✳

  Will joined the group of about forty riding north. Scouts told them that the Federals were camped around the old Tennessee Lunatic Asylum. Will split off with Archie and Tom, lying in wait off one of the trails. Archie and he crouched behind a log, Tom standing behind a tree. After what seemed hours, but really only a few minutes, they heard footsteps, then saw a blue uniform moving down the path, as though just out for a Sunday stroll. Waiting until he passed, Tom came out from behind the tree and lassoed him, while Archie and Will jumped on him.

  “Don’t move,” said Archie, leveling his revolver at the man’s head.

  Seeing his terror, Will said, “Do as you’re told, no one will hurt you. Make a wrong move, you can tell it to St. Peter.”

  Tom pointed a rifle with a fixed bayonet at him. “Now, roll on your stomach, real slow. Keep your hands where I can see ‘em or I’ll use you for target practice.”

  “What you Johnny Rebs doin’ here?” said the man, rolling over.

  “We ask the questions. Put your hands behind your back,” said Archie.

  Will took a short length of rope from his pocket and tied the man’s hands together securely, testing the knots.

  “All right,” Archie said. “Stay in front of us, march down to your left and down the hill path.”

  They arrived at a holding area at the bottom of the hill, where some Federal wagons had been captured, and about thirty other prisoners were being guarded, having been captured by other Morgan men in the thickets around the asylum.

  Will and the others dropped off their prisoner and returned to their station, repeating the process three more times. In the end, they had about eighty prisoners. Most of the company started off toward Murfreesboro, with the prisoners in the wagons.

  Morgan rode up beside Will. “Come with me,” he said. Will followed him a distance off the main road, curious as to what Morgan had in mind.

  “Here, take this. Put it on,” Morgan said, handing him a Federal officer’s overcoat, hat, and pistol. “We’re going to have some fun.”

  Following beside Morgan, Will rode hesitantly. They rode down the main road, right toward the Federal camp. They dismounted, moved off the road, and, tying the horses, scouted ahead. Will could see a Federal guard station with about ten Federals lounging about, guns stacked about fifty feet from the guard tent. Some were drinking coffee at a little fire, some were playing cards. They seemed completely unaware of any enemy nearby.

  “Follow my lead,” Morgan said. “We’ll circle through the woods and come from behind them. Move quickly between them and their weapons. We’re Federal officers, not Confederates. Get as close to that sergeant as you can, and on my signal, put the pistol to his head. After he surrenders, we’ll take them all prisoner. Don’t let on anything. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir!” Will grinned at the daring plan.

  They dismounted and quietly moved in a wide circle into a ravine. They mounted and came trotting quickly into the guard station. Morgan placed himself in front of the stacked rifles. Will moved toward the sergeant.

  “You there! Soldier! Just what are you men doing? Are you on guard duty or at a party? Attentio
n, every last one of you. I’ll have you under arrest! I’m Colonel Byington, Fourth Ohio. I’ve never seen such sloppy soldiering! Arrest that man, Lieutenant!” Morgan shouted at them.

  Will quickly moved forward and cocked the revolver at the sergeant’s head. “Give me your weapon, slowly,” said Will. The sergeant grasped his revolver with two fingers and handed it to Will, grip first.

  “Haven’t you men been told there are Confederates not twenty miles from here? Slipshod guards like this allow that Morgan fellow to get away with his tricks. You should be ashamed of yourselves!” Morgan berated them. “Mount up!” he said, seeing their horses tethered a small distance away. The soldiers hurried to comply.

  “Column of twos, we’re in the rear. I’ll take you to your commanding officer. Move out!” ordered Morgan. “Lieutenant, keep that pistol ready for any that try to run!”

  Will rode just behind the sergeant, praying that no one would notice their gray trousers under the overcoats. Even though weaponless, ten of the federals would be hard to manage for just the two of them.

  After ten to fifteen minutes riding, the sergeant turned and spoke to Morgan. Will drew the pistol from its holster, keeping it ready. “Beggin’ your pardon sir, but aren’t we going the wrong way?”

  Will noticed smoke rising off to the east. Morgan drew his own pistol and cast aside the overcoat, showing his Confederate uniform.

  “No,” he replied coolly. “You are my prisoner. However, I shall not hesitate to shoot you dead, should you offer any sign of resistance. I am Captain Morgan.”

  The sergeant could not have looked more surprised had Morgan announced himself to be Jeff Davis.

  “Let’s move, gentlemen! I believe we might soon have company,” said Morgan. He was behind the Federals on the left side of the road. Will dropped back on the right, so the Federals were ahead and between them. They increased speed to an extended trot, then a canter. It was difficult to control his horse one handed, bounce up and down, and keep his pistol trained on the Federals. Fortunately, they didn’t seem to notice.

  From behind and left, they heard the sound of a large number of horses coming fast. Bullets filled the air. One of the Federals tried to dodge off the road, but a shot from Morgan at his ear convinced him to stay with the group. Over fences and gulches, through fields and thickets, as hard as their horses could go, fled the one party and followed the other for ten miles. Morgan and Will never looked back, trusting to their evasive movement on the horses to avoid gunfire. They caught up to the main body of Morgan’s men and passed them.

  Will’s horse took a fence, sailing over with a foot to spare. One of the Federals on his side was trying to escape and turn back to those behind. As soon as he landed, Will aimed and fired. His aim was not precise. The Federal’s hat flew off, and he looked over at Will in white-faced terror. He jerked his horse to the left, back in the direction of his fellows, unwilling to risk another shot.

  In another few minutes, they reached the outer pickets of Morgan’s camp. The Federals had fallen back, and now receiving volleys from the Confederate guards, abandoned the chase altogether. The prisoners dismounted, and guards marched them away. Will learned that in the main body of Morgan’s troops with the wagons, most of the prisoners of the morning escaped due to the Federal pursuit. One of the Raiders died. Will dismounted and tended his horse, lathered and exhausted from the long frantic ride. Will himself was shaking, but Morgan clapped his back and congratulated him, seeming exhilarated by the day’s events.

  ✳ ✳ ✳

  March 15, 1862

  March had indeed come in like a lion, but was softening. The middle of the month found Will riding northeast with two companies, Duke and Morgan at their head. They skirted the main body of Federals to the west, going to Gallatin to disrupt the Federal supply line via the railroad. They stopped a short distance from town. Duke and Morgan went into town alone, using some of their borrowed Federal uniforms. When they returned, Will saw them laughing and learned that they had tricked the telegraph operator into getting them the latest news of Federal positions. The whole command then mounted and moved into the town, which was unguarded.

  “Tear up the rails,” ordered Morgan. “When the train comes through, warn them with some shots. Will, get up on the roof at the hotel. If you see Federals coming, warn us and pick them off—though the telegraph says there aren’t any within ten miles. Still, be alert.”

  “Yes, sir!” Will took up his position and watched as the others set fire to boxcars of supplies on a side rail, burned the depot, and destroyed the wood sawing machinery.

  No Federal opposition came. The men were in high spirits, singing and joking on the leisurely thirty-mile ride back to the Murfreesboro camp, arriving about noon of the following day. The joy was short-lived. Within four days, Will got orders to pack everything. They were moving to Mississippi. With the success they’d been having, he wondered at again moving further south. Would they ever get back to Kentucky?

  ✳ ✳ ✳

  Albinia surveyed the damage to the farm. Essentially, there was nothing left. Mabel walked to town earlier in the day and, with some difficulty, hired a horse and wagon, bringing the doctor back with her. He tended Franklin, weak from loss of blood, and left instructions for tending his wound, heading back to town as quickly as he could.

  The farm was a charred assortment of half-burned boards. She managed to find a trunk that somehow escaped the flames, covered by sheet metal falling from the roof. The trunk contained one or two gowns, now all the material possessions she had. The horsemen had dragged burning branches through her fields, destroying any crops. The windmill lay in ruins. All her horses were dead. Her dog was gone.

  “At least the hooligans didn’t kill Franklin,” huffed Mabel. “Though I expect they meant to. What will you do now, Miss Albinia?”

  “What can I do? It’s obvious that they’ll be back. At least packing won’t be hard,” she observed with a wry smile.

  “Where will you go? Back to your parents?”

  “No. I’ll never go back there. I’ll try again to get Ma to come and live with me, and bring Lyddie. I’ll go north, sell this farm for what I can get for it. I’ll pay Franklin’s expenses with doctors. You’re welcome to come with me, though I can’t offer much. I’ll understand if you’ve had enough and want to go elsewhere.”

  Mabel brushed aside her graying chestnut hair, tucking it under her scarf. She didn’t answer for a moment, her stout frame bent over Franklin, who was too drunk from the whiskey the doctor had given him to do anything. He just lay in the wagon, moaning occasionally. She straightened and turned to face Albinia.

  “Thanks just the same. I’ll go where you go. I’ll not let these ruffians frighten me away from doing what’s right. Besides, Franklin and I, we have nowhere else to go. He’ll need tending. But I know he’d feel the same.”

  Albinia let the relief show on her face. “Thank you, Mabel! I was hoping you’d feel that way. Let’s get over to Madison, in Indiana, and see what can be done.

  ✳ ✳ ✳

  April 1, 1862

  The rain came in sheets. The Third Ohio was on the move, Luther and Hiram moving in the ranks. Hiram marched with the private soldiers, slogging through the mud. Luther was cold, and soaked to the skin. So far, there was little opportunity for his plans for revenge. He was becoming discouraged. He’d gotten to know Hiram, now about twenty yards ahead, and found him one of the more likeable whites. Moreover, Hiram seemed to treat him as a person, not a tool. They were moving south from Nashville, chasing the Confederates.

  “Halt!” called one of the officers. Luther turned to see what was wrong. Just behind him, one of the cannons stuck in the thick mud. The horse was straining its traces trying to pull it loose, with no success.

  “You there!” said the officer, pointing at Luther. “Grab the wheel, see what you can do to help.”

  Luther simmered with anger. What did they think he was, an ox? Nevertheless, he went and took hold of
the wheel of the cannon carriage. He pushed with all his might as they urged the horse on, but it only moved slightly. As he fell back, sweating and breathing hard, he was astonished that Hiram appeared at the other wheel of the cannon carriage. He had two boards in hand, and put one in front of each wheel.

  “Let’s try it again,” he said, motioning to Luther and the driver.

  Together, they exerted their full strength on the cannon. This time, it broke free of the mud, rolling up onto the boards. Hiram made it look easy. He came over to Luther with a smile and stuck out a hand, then clapped Luther on the back.

  “There’s no telling what we can do together,” he said. Luther smiled back, wondering at this white man.

  ✳ ✳ ✳

  As the regiment halted for the night, Luther moved along the line, taking horses, bedding them down for the night with hay and water. It had been a long muddy march, and he wanted nothing more than to go to sleep. The sky had been cloudy and threatening all afternoon. Now there were peals of thunder. As Luther led three horses to their picket line for the night, a flash of lightning hit a tree ten feet away, causing it to burst into flame. The horses reared, tearing the reins out of his grasp. He dodged the hooves and grabbed for the reins, trying to regain control, but the horses spun around, knocking him into the mud, and then bolted south for the woods.

  As Luther picked himself up, cursing, an officer came over, hands on his hips, as the rain cut loose.

  “You there! What are you waiting for? After those horses! You lost them—I can’t have three men dismounted tomorrow because you can’t do your job. Take a lantern and bring them back!”

  Luther wanted to tell the officer what he thought of the idea and ask him if he could hold three terrified horses, but he swallowed it. They were in enemy territory. Being left here to make his own way would be suicide. Yet wasn’t this officer ordering him to do just that?