Lieutenant John Holbrook, Sergeant John Wheeler

by Laszlo Endrody

  “I meant that stupid cook.”

  “She is here, but she is not going back with you because you don’t pay her for working and you owe her money.”

  “I don’t owe her anything except a good whipping, with her running off like that.”

  I told the corporal to check the station man’s horse to see if it was branded. The corporal checked and said it wasn’t. So, I pulled my gun and told him to get off his horse.

  I said, “She can sell this horse for her lost wages.”

  To say he was upset was an understatement. He then shouted, “I don’t think so. She has been eating for free, she has nothing coming!”

  “Miller, tie up her horse,” I instructed. “And you sir can start walking back.”

  “I will charge you for stealing my horse. You’ll never get away with this!” he screamed.

  “You do what you want. We can charge you with white slavery. If I remember correctly, President Lincoln just put a stop to slavery,” I replied.

  The man started walking and the girl smiled and said, “He left me his Kentucky rifle on the horse too. I can hunt rabbits. What else do I have to cook?”

  “You can soak some beans, and we will cook them during the night for breakfast in the morning,” I suggested. “Usually we add an onion and a piece of bacon to the pot for everyone at around midnight. Then whoever is on watch has to stir the pot so that it’s ready by morning.”

  “Why are the men riding?” she asked.

  “We have more horses that we cannot tie up. We have to find a buckboard and then we can tie up four to this wagon and four to the buckboard. We may add two pulling this wagon, and we will have two pulling the corporal’s wagon,” I explained. “We have had fights with bandits and we have their horses and money. Ohio is very short on horses and they are paying big money for them. They sold their horses for big money thinking that the war would be over in a month or so, and then they could buy more horses for cheap. The trouble is, the war is not over yet and they don’t have any horses to do their farm work. Horses are big money. Farms don’t have horses and can’t plow or haul with their wagons. They are running short on seed and not making any money, and taxes are due. Some of them have not paid taxes for four years. The states are all short on money, and they cannot hire help. The war cost the states a lot of money, a lot more than they were bargaining for. By the way, what do you want us to call you?”

  “You can call me Betty Pierson,” she stated.

  “You will have to buy a branding iron to brand your horse, Betty. We will all have to brand our horses. When we stop for the night, we will fry up some bacon to go with our buns and have some coffee. That’s it.”

  We stopped quite late and fed the horses, and then called it a day. We fried some bacon, warmed up some buns, and made a big pot of coffee. I told Betty to take some of my blankets and lay down on the oats to get some rest. I told her we were going to have a long day tomorrow. “Use my blankets, we will buy some more when we go to a store,” I reassured her. “You can start making a shopping list for everything you need for yourself and the cooking.”

  I took first watch again in the evening, and told the next in line to call me at first light in the morning. I put the beans on to cook at midnight and called the corporal to stir the beans. “Watch out for snakes, there are some around,” I warned. “I don’t want them to bite the horses. I will put a shotgun on my shopping list for snake control. Shoot them at night if needed. I hope the next town has a wheelwright, and a buckboard for sale, and a store where we can buy supplies.”

  They called me at first light. When I went and fed my horses, I saw a big rattler and put two bullets in him. The shots woke everybody up. I checked on the beans, but they were not ready. Betty came out and had a cup of coffee. She had the bowls and spoons ready to serve the beans. Everybody had their cups and was getting coffee.

  When my horses finished with the oats, I watered the four in harness from the barrels with some buckets. The others in the back got the water from the pond. Miller and the sergeant put a nosebag on all of the other horses. After they finished, they walked them over to the others.

  The beans were finally ready and we all got a bowl full. After we finished, Betty said she would wash everything up.

  “Do you see that snake out there, coming from the water?” I asked her. “That’s a water moccasin. If it bites you, that means it’s all over for you. Use the other pot and the water from the water bags. We will refill them later, normally that water is for coffee, but I don’t want you to get snake bit.”

  The sergeant and Miller both started to ride, so I helped Betty get everything in the wagon and hooked up the traces and pulled out.

  We were on the west side of the river and it was a good road. I figured it would be four or five more days until we reached St. Louis; then from there Illinois, Indiana, and Ohio. The sergeant’s home was in Columbus, and we still had a long way to go.

  We stopped at a couple of stage stations and they told us, “No Yankee’s and no overnight.” Arkansas was Confederate early on, parts of Missouri were too. Once we got up to Missouri, most of the stations had food. We went through a small town that had a good store. I gave Betty 40 dollars gold and she went shopping for herself. I was able to buy a ten-gauge shotgun, four buckets, ten blankets, and a bunch of ammunition.

  In Missouri we met three bandits. Betty was sitting with me. I handed her a .44 and told her to keep it low in her lap so they wouldn’t see it. She did as I instructed. I asked her if she has ever shot a six-gun; she told me that she had. So, I told her to get the man on her side. Miller and the sergeant were riding and I was hoping they would take out at least one or two bandits. I could not see Miller; he was behind the wagon and would probably get the bandit on the right side of the road.

  Two of the bandits stayed in the middle; one big fellow told us to stop and I shot him. Betty shot the one on her side pulling a pack horse. The sergeant nailed the second man on the left side. I stopped and told Betty that everything on the man she shot was hers. I got off and tied up my new horse, and so did the sergeant. Betty told me her horse was a U.S. horse. “How about the pack horse?” I asked. She told me it was not branded.

  I said, “Check that man for a money belt and for cash in his pockets.”

  “Where do you want all of this money?” Betty asked me.

  “It’s all your money. Put it in your carpet bag.”

  “I am rich!” She exclaimed. “I really hit the jackpot. Mine had over a thousand dollars and a heavy money belt.”

  The sergeant was also very happy; he had a nice buckskin gelding. My horse was a big black. The pack horse was a filly, a nice two-and-a-half-year-old. Miller unloaded the U.S. horse. It had a military saddle, some dirty blankets, and a nice canteen that he handed to Betty. Miller turned the U.S. horse free, and it went grazing. I had eight horses now, counting Betty’s two. All of Miller’s and the sergeant’s horses had to be led. The sergeant told me he would sell two of his, but I told him to wait until we reached Ohio so we could get more money for them. After we dragged the bandits off of the road, we went on our way.

  We reached a stage station and they had food for cash customers. The agent asked if I would be willing to sell a couple of my horses. I told him that none of mine were for sale, but he could check with Miller and the sergeant to see if they might be interested in selling some of theirs. The sergeant told the man him that he would sell him two nice geldings for 120 dollars each. The man told him, “The stage company was buying geldings for 60 dollars each and that’s all I can pay.”

  We found a blacksmith and I had him rig us for six-in-hand. I also needed to get a harness. I harnessed my new gelding with Betty’s gelding so that she would have room in the back for her filly. The smith helped me brand all of my horses on the left shoulder. He made a brand for Betty and branded her horses as well. The brand’s showed up really nice.

  When we got to St. Louis, we went to a ho
tel. I announced that I was going to get cleaned up and Betty asked if she could come with me so she could clean up too. I got a room with a double bed. The Miller and the sergeant stayed in the stables with the horses. They paid a dollar a head for the horses, but that price also included some feed. They felt it best that someone stay with the wagon and the horses with the thieving going on.

  The following day, Miller found a buckboard and bought it. He also got a harness and forced it on his geldings. One of his geldings finally settled down, but the older one wouldn’t. He asked for the filly, so Betty took the harness and he went with her. Now we had room for all of the horses to be tied up. The sergeant came back to the wagon and sat with me. We bought all of our meals for two days in St. Louis. Then we left town and headed east for Indianapolis and Ohio.

  On the way, the sergeant sold his two geldings to a farmer for 120 dollars each. He was now down to one gelding. He told me that he now had enough money to buy a nice house for his family.

  “How about homesteading?” I asked him.

  “I am not farmer, and I want to stay in Ohio,” he replied.

  I felt the same way about Pennsylvania, as did Miller.

  In Vandalia, the sheriff checked our horses. Then he warned us that there were about six gangs raiding Indiana. These gangs were all killers too.

  The sergeant was riding up front and Betty was in the back with my Henry. She hunted rabbits and was very familiar with the Henry. Miller was behind us with his buckboard. Most of the towns we went through had restaurants, so we ate out quite a bit. Betty and I were getting very close; she was a really nice person. There was very little grazing on the side of the roads, so the horses had to eat oats, unless we stayed in hotel; then they got hay, which they loved. The hotels had their own restaurants and we could have an early breakfast. Then we had to harness the horses, hitch up, tie the four in the back, and hit the road. We usually got Miller in with us for breakfast, and he was a lot of help.

  When we got close to the Ohio border, the sergeant saddled up and told us goodbye. He then rode for home. He told us that he could make some time to come visit us, and we told him to write to the postmaster in Lancaster if he wanted to get in touch.

  We traveled on and on, all the way through Ohio for the month. We crossed the bridge at Wheeling and went on.

  The next day we were in Pennsylvania; two days later we were in Pittsburg. We spent two days in Pittsburg and Betty and I stayed in a hotel. From Pittsburg, we went on to Somerset. It took us a week and three days. From there, we went to Bedford, then to Breezewood. We now had to go through mountains; it was slower, but we found good grazing. We were heading for Harrisburg, and from there we went to Lancaster.

  We got two rooms at the hotel in Lancaster, and kept all of our horses in the stable. The latest news buzzing around town was that they were going to auction off a lot of properties that had not paid taxes. We got a list of available acreage, and saw that there was a 2,000 acre place outside of Lancaster for sale. There were Amish farms all around it and two of Miller’s brothers had farms bordering the big place. The owner was a colonel in the Confederate army and he refused to pay taxes to Lancaster because it was in Yankee territory, so he ended up losing the place. The colonel had been killed in the war and his family was still on the property; his wife and two daughters. He also had some workers who were still working on the farm. He had six big heavy Amish horse teams.

  Miller and I bought ourselves a suit and Betty got a nice dress, and then we went to the sale. Some houses in Lancaster came first and went fast. There were some Amish bishops bidding on all of the Amish property, as well as a couple of Amish farmers. When the big farm came up for sale, the Amish bishop bid the minimum of 322 dollars. Miller raised it 500 and the banker raised it another 200. I then had Betty raise it another 500 and the room went deathly quiet. The Amish bishop then raised it another 50, and I raised it another 750, and there it stayed. The final price was 2,322 dollars. The auctioneer called the amount several times, and it stayed as is. I went to the cashier and payed him the 2,322 dollars, received a receipt, and was told that my title would be issued in three days.

  Chapter Two

  Betty and I went and got married. We went to a Lutheran church and asked the minister to marry us, and he did. When the title to the property came, it was in my name only. I got an attorney to make it in both mine and Miller’s names. Then the three of us drove out to the farm and we went to the big house and knocked on the door. We told the occupants that we had bought the property and that we would like to buy some of the items that they were selling if they were reasonably priced, and we would also adopt their workforce. We told them that we would buy their horses and equipment as well if they were selling them.

  “Our workforce is wounded Confederate soldiers and they will not work for Yankees,” they told us. “We will sell our horses and equipment, but not to you.”

  I then stated, “In that case, you have a month to be out.”

  We left, and I went back to the hotel. I was trying to figure out how to get out there so that I could start plowing for winter wheat. That evening the hotel manager kicked us out of the hotel. Miller and I went down to the wagon and started harnessing the horses. Once we had all of them harnessed and hitched to the wagon, Miller then got his buckboard ready. We tied the other horses in the back and pulled out of there. We left town and headed for Gettysburg to talk to the colonel.

  We went by a Catholic Church, and two houses west of it were for sale. A sign outside read, ‘For Sale’. I pulled up and looked around. There were two horses in the back, and a small buckboard. A man came out and asked what we wanted. I told him that we saw his sign out front advertising that is property was for sale.

  “How many rooms?” I asked him.

  “Four,” he replied.

  “How much are you asking?”

  “Six hundred, as-is, all furnishings included.”

  “I will give you six hundred, if it’s properly furnished,” I told him.

  He invited us in, and it was okay. The furniture was old, but usable. The kitchen was great; it had a big stove with an oven.

  “Can we have immediate possession?” I asked.

  “You can have it tomorrow if you want it that bad,” he assured me.

  “How much do you owe in taxes?”

  “Ten dollars,” he stated. “I will hitch up in the morning and leave. You can stay in your wagon tonight and move into the house in the morning.”

  We had to back our wagon into his acre and put our horses in his corral. We spent the night in the wagon. We had plenty of blankets, so we stayed warm. Betty was next to me and I kept her warm.

  That next morning, Mr. Pierson, the owner, loaded up his buckboard and gave me a bill of sale for the 600 dollars with his signature. The priest came over and I asked him to witness the paper and he signed it. The priest’s name was Father Martin.

  Once he found out who I was, he immediately wanted to talk to me. We went in the living room and sat down. He told me that he needed this house himself, as he was caring for six homeless girls. He stated that he also had four orphan boys that needed jobs. Gettysburg was full of boys who were in need of work. I told him that if I could plow at the big farm we could put in winter wheat, but the family there was very uncooperative. He told me that was a Major Wilson’s place, a Confederate officer, who ran everything out there. All of the help were wounded Confederate soldiers.

  “The colonel sent them up there to give them all jobs,” Father Martin stated. “The major is a Confederate officer, and so is his lieutenant. They never surrendered. You will have to watch them carefully so they don’t shoot you. They are all armed and still harbor ill feelings towards the Yankees.”

  “Well I guess I won’t be getting any wheat this fall,” I replied. “I would need to plow with ten plows. I have the horses and could buy their horses. The Amish tried to bid on the place, but they could not come up with a bid big enough t
o outbid me,” I told him.

  “They want all of this county to be Amish,” Father Martin replied. “They are not bad people, but they think that they are right and everybody else is wrong. They don’t want me or the Lutherans here either,” Father Martin stated.

  “If we could plow, we could use ten boys plowing. They would make a man’s wage, and I would also supply them with some winter clothes before the snow falls,” I told Father Martin.

  “I could go talk to the lieutenant,” he suggested. “He is Catholic. I could see if we could plow with the boys.”

  “Okay. Let me know what you find out,” I told him.

  Betty fried up some potatoes and started to clean everything. I told the priest to send out a homeless girl that wanted to work so she could help my wife. He sent out a woman who was around 50 years old. She started to clean the place and worked hard. Then she went back to the church around noon to get a bowl of soup. The woman told me that she had made the soup earlier that day, and that they had soup every day for all of the homeless. After she had her soup, we gave her some fried potatoes with bacon. It took her a long time to eat it. She had lived on soup for a long time.

  There was a store in town, so we went in and bought some supplies. We got some bacon and a sack of flour for the orphanage and dropped it off at the church. A Quaker young man with corporal stripes carried it in. He told us he was looking for a job. I told him that in a month I would be able to hire him. He told me that the priest had talked to quite a few of the boys about plowing, and he was interested too. I asked him where the closest U.S. troops were around the area. He told me they were in Gettysburg. Gettysburg was ten days away. I figured I would wait for the priest to see what he had accomplished before I went to Gettysburg.

  We waited for him all afternoon but he didn’t come back. I decided to wire the U.S. army, but I didn’t want to do it from Lancaster because I no longer trusted anyone. The corporal told me that they had a Wells Fargo in Paradise, which was about a half a day riding. I wanted to talk to the sheriff to see if he would go check on the priest. I got Miller to go with me and asked the Quaker if he’d hang around to make sure nothing happened to Betty and our heard of horses.