“I’d a heap sight prefer that to this,” Jacob declared.
“All right. I’ll recommend it to Headquarters. But first,” Major Melton held up his index finger, “we have a job to do.”
Major Melton took over command of Jacob’s cavalry and infantry regiments, and Jacob was demoted to the captaincy of Company A of the cavalry regiment; this company was composed mainly of the original Stay More men. Major Melton assembled all of the troops and made a long speech to them, explaining the necessity of killing, and pointing out that a refusal to kill amounted to fraternization with the enemy, a dereliction of duty punishable by death. The men listened sullenly and suspiciously, and when Major Melton was finished with them they reverted to their old habits of smashing their fists into their palms, and, because the movements of the armies had knocked down every post and there were no posts to kick, and all the dogs in the county had learned to hide at the sight of man, they kicked each other. Jacob wondered if Virdie Boatright would ever come back. Even if she did, she might not have anything to do with a soldier dressed in blue. Or mightn’t she? Even if she might, she couldn’t take on a whole regiment of them. Or couldn’t she? Even if she could, the benefits would only be temporary. Or wouldn’t they? Even if they weren’t…but Jacob began to realize that what was done could not be undone. For a while he gave serious thought to secretly sending a messenger to Capt. Cecil warning him that Major Melton now intended to shoot to kill. But that would be treason. Or at least fraternization with the enemy. The best that Jacob could hope for would be that if Major Melton started killing he might be killed in return, and then for a while the Federals and Confederates of Newton County could go back to their old safe way of fighting. These thoughts were interrupted by the sight and sound of Major Melton riding up and down the lines brandishing his saber and yelling, “Forward, ho!”
For weeks they searched for Capt. Cecil without finding a single Rebel. Their rations were low, and Jacob didn’t like Major Melton’s idea of “expropriating” rations from the civilian population of the county. Even in peacetime these people had a hard enough task living from hand to mouth. Now they were being victimized not just by the Federal troops but also by roving bands of bushwhackers and jayhawkers.
The people always suffer the brunt of war, Jacob realized, and he yearned to slip away to Stay More to see if his own people were enduring their hardships. He suggested to Major Melton that Capt. Cecil’s troops might have left the county to join Confederate engagements elsewhere. But Major Melton was determined to continue the search, until every holler of Newton County had been explored. Finally Major Melton asked Jacob, “Which of your men would know Cecil best?” and Jacob replied that would be Sergeant Sam Cecil, his own brother. Sam Cecil was called up, and Major Melton asked him if he had any idea where his brother might be hiding. Sam did, but was reluctant to say. Major Melton lost his temper and busted Sam to private, then assembled all the troops and gave them a long lecture on the superiority of patriotism over brotherhood, concluding rhetorically, “If your brother pointed his weapon at you and prepared to fire, would you not return his fire?” Afterward Sam Cecil came to Jacob and said he had decided to go ahead and tell the major where he thought his brother was hiding, but, he asked Jacob, would it be all right to send a secret messenger to John Cecil, warning him that Major Melton now intended to shoot to kill? Jacob had to explain to Sam that that would be treason or at least fraternization with the enemy, and Jacob in clear conscience could not give Sam permission to do so. Even if he did warn his brother, Jacob pointed out, what good would it do? It would just mean that the Rebels would be waiting and ready to shoot to kill, themselves. Yeah, Sam admitted, if somebody’s gonna git kilt, it mout as well be them ’stead of us. So he went to Major Melton and told him that his brother was probably hiding in Limestone Valley, that hotbed of Confederate sympathizers. Major Melton restored Sam to sergeant, and promoted him to chief scout for the expedition to invade Limestone Valley.
The attack was carefully planned, and kept secret from all but the higher officers, but still, when the Federals swept down into Limestone Valley at the crack of dawn, they discovered that John Cecil had been tipped off and was already in full flight with his band of some 180 men. Major Melton ordered a cavalry charge in pursuit and rode at the head of it himself, and was the first to overtake and kill one of the fleeing Rebels. At the far end of Limestone Valley, Capt. John Cecil halted his flight and tried to rally his men to form a line of defense, but when the Rebels saw that the Federals were shooting to kill, saw dozens of their comrades falling, they ran for their lives, scattering all over the mountain. Still Major Melton pursued them, killing many and capturing several. Jacob dutifully followed, but still could not bring himself to kill anyone, although, when he was forced to, he would shoot to wound rather than kill, and he wounded several.
The pursuing cavalry were as scattered as their quarry, and Jacob found himself separated from the others, alone in a holler of Big Piney Creek, where he was chasing a Rebel soldier. The soldier was on foot, and Jacob soon caught up with him. The soldier turned to face him and to fire at him, and Jacob discovered that it was Noah.
Before Noah could fire, Jacob yelled, “Hey, Noey! It’s me, Jake!”
Noah did not lower his rifle. “Shit,” he said, “fire.”
Instinctively Jacob brought his rifle up and sighted, to protect himself, but he went on talking, “This is foolish, Noah. This is crazy.”
“Shit,” said Noah again, “fire,” and squeezed the trigger.
In the same instant Jacob returned his fire. These brothers, like all the Ozark mountain men, were sharpshooters. Each had aimed precisely at the other’s left eye, the sighting eye. Thus, their bullets met midway between them, collided and fused into a lump of lead, and dropped to the earth. They fired again, and again their bullets collided between them.
“SHIT!” Noah hollered. “FIRE!”
His voice startled Jacob’s horse, and the horse’s sudden movement spoiled his aim. Their third bullets, instead of colliding in midair, missed each other. Noah’s bullet hit Jacob in the shoulder. Jacob’s bullet hit Noah in the heart.
Major Melton granted a one-week furlough to Jacob so that he could return to Stay More for his brother’s funeral. Noah was buried near Murray Swain in the cemetery on Swains Creek. His tombstone, which even today somebody always covers with flowers on the anniversary of his death, says simply “Corp. Noah L. Ingledew, C.S.A.,” followed by his dates of birth and death, and the simple inscription, “Who was right.” Undoubtedly, unquestionably, a question mark was intended to follow these words, but perhaps the stonecutter did not know how to cut one, with the resultant ambiguity suggesting that Noah might have been right. Or perhaps he was; I am just guessing.
The people of Stay More felt such great sorrow for Jacob Ingledew that they could not possibly conceive of a single adequate word of condolence that might be spoken to him; consequently no one spoke to Jacob, and he mistakenly interpreted this as a sign of their scorn or derision, which he felt he justly deserved. Not even his own wife Sarah could think of any words adequate to express her sorrow and her pity for him. All she could do, by way of solace, was to make herself freely available in bed, but Jacob did not think that copulation was appropriate in a time of bereavement, so he rejected her offering. He spent much of his time standing by Swains Creek beneath the sycamore tree in which Noah’s treehouse was perched, staring up at it. Over and over again in his mind he relived the last moments of Noah’s life, trying to figure out what was going through Noah’s mind. He realized that Noah must have seen many of his fellow soldiers killed by Major Melton’s troops (altogether, in the skirmish of Limestone Valley, thirty Rebels were killed, forty-three were wounded, and eight taken prisoner) and that Noah suddenly knew that the game of war was no longer a game, that it was now: kill or be killed. But his own brother? Had Noah really believed that Jacob would kill him? But Jacob knew that he himself was thinking along similar lines duri
ng those tense moments.
In time he reached the point where he realized that thinking was useless, and took a vow to quit thinking. Then he seriously considered shooting himself, but realized that in order to do that he would have to think about it, and if he had taken a vow to quit thinking he couldn’t do it. So he didn’t. For the rest of his furlough he did not think a single thought, and thus when his furlough was over he did not know it. Major Melton had to come and get him. Major Melton was impressed that his speech on the superiority of patriotism over brotherhood had had such a dramatic effect in Jacob’s case, and he had reported favorably to his own brother, General Melton, at Headquarters, who had sent an order restoring Jacob to major and transferring him and his cavalry regiments to the command of General Frederick Steele, who was in eastern Arkansas preparing to march upon Little Rock. Jacob still wasn’t thinking, but one of his aides helped him put on his boots and saddle his horse and mount it, then the aide pointed the horse eastward and said “Giddyup” to it and kicked it, then summoned the rest of Jacob’s cavalry to follow, and they began their long ride to Helena on the Mississippi River, where they were welcomed by the Federal garrison there.
General Steele himself welcomed Jacob, and was especially delighted to have in his command the person who was reputed to be not only the lone Arkansas delegate opposing secession at the state convention but also the lone soldier who had killed his own brother. All the newspapers were in the habit of referring to the War as a great clash of “brother against brother” but so far General Steele had never heard of any man who had actually killed his brother, so he was ineffably glad to meet Jacob and have him and his cavalry join the assault on Little Rock, and on the spot he promoted Jacob to colonel. Jacob thought nothing of it, because he still wasn’t thinking. But soon, when he had shot and killed his first Rebel in eastern Arkansas, he was forced to think: he thought that this man he had killed was a southern slaveowner of the type who had fomented the rebellion and deserved to die. Thinking, Jacob realized that there was nothing wrong in killing this type of person. In fact, this type of person was indirectly responsible for starting a war which had resulted in the death of his brother Noah. It would be revenge to kill them, and Jacob took his revenge, killing them wherever he found them.
By the time General Steele’s army reached Little Rock, Jacob’s marksmanship and anger had become a legend among the troops of both sides, and it is said that the real reason the Confederates gave up the city without any resistance was their fear of being mowed down like dogs by Jacob Ingledew. In any case, General Steele occupied the capital without the loss of a single man, and breveted Jacob brigadier general, and sent him out to harass the retreating Rebels south and west of the city. Those he did not annihilate were driven so far away they never came back. Jacob returned to Little Rock and went to the house of the lady whom we have seen before, the lady who must remain nameless because her family name is a revered one in Little Rock society today. He took off his boots and hung his trousers on the bedpost, and afterwards he and lady lay together talking for a long time, about war, and death, and duty, and, yes, love or whatever it might be called.
That was in September. The following January, delegates from twenty-three loyalist counties converged on Little Rock and voted to choose General Jacob Ingledew as provisional governor. The following March, the people of the state elected him governor, and he was inaugurated in April. Arkansas was the first of the seceded states to secede from the Secession.
Chapter seven
No, our illustration this time around is not the governor’s mansion in Little Rock. That city, after all, is not in the Ozarks, missing by at least eight miles, so the dwelling that Jacob occupied there does not rightfully belong in a study of Ozark architecture. Our illustration is of the house that Jacob built in Stay More after he returned from his four-year term as governor; thus we will have to wait until the end of this chapter to learn why it is trigeminal rather than bigeminal, in fact one of the few trigeminal structures in the Ozarks, as well as the single most impressive building in Stay More. This was the third and last house that Jacob Ingledew built in Stay More, although being third is not the reason why it was trigeminal. We may guess or anticipate the real reason, but we would do better to wait until the end of the chapter.
Although this house was (and still is) the most impressive dwelling of Stay More, it is relatively modest by comparison with the house Jacob occupied in Little Rock, which we cannot illustrate here. Confederate Governor Flanagin abandoned it quickly in the face of the advance of General Steele’s army, taking only a few personal possessions and mementos and some of his wife’s best silver. So it was fully and rather opulently furnished when Jacob moved into it. As long as he was only provisional governor, he did not send for his wife Sarah and his children. He thought of writing them and telling them that he had been chosen provisional governor, but, remembering that no one in Stay More could read, he dispatched instead a messenger to carry the news orally. Not far outside of Little Rock this messenger was ambushed by bushwhackers and killed. The people of Stay More would have to wait for some time to learn of the high position attained by one of their own. Meanwhile the Little Rock lady (whom we cannot name) came clandestinely each night to the governor’s mansion to keep Jacob’s company in bed, and to share his burden as helmsman for the ship of state.
This burden, as long as he was only provisional governor, was not a heavy one. Most important matters, both military and civil, remained in the care of the military governor, General Steele, and Jacob did not seem to mind that all of the messages from President Lincoln during this period were addressed not to him but to Steele. The lady explained to Jacob what a “figurehead” is, as distinct from a “puppet,” which he was not. He took more interest in supervising the drafting of a new state constitution. He made few speeches, and these were carefully corrected and rehearsed in advance with the help of his ladyfriend. He avoided coarse language, especially in the presence of women. A reporter from the New York Tribune interviewed him at that time and wrote a long piece which was both condescending toward his back-country appearance and deportment and warmly approving of his platform, expressed, as he was quoted, “to git this here state back into the Union and keep’er thar till hell freezes over.”
For a long time, his ladyfriend made a timid, half-hearted attempt to refine his diction, and at least succeeded to the point where his speech no longer betrayed his true intelligence, but still there were many loyal Unionists in the state who were embarrassed by his image, and indeed, the reason that Jacob’s name appears so sporadically in histories of Arkansas is that historians are still somewhat discomfited, if not embarrassed, by his image. There was not, however, any man willing to run against him in the election. The election offered only a pair of alternatives: ratification of a new constitution, or not; and Jacob Ingledew for governor, or not. In the actual election, Jacob polled more votes than the constitution did, a circumstance that was not pleasing to President Lincoln, although Lincoln finally wrote directly to him to congratulate him, a brief letter that was always afterwards one of Jacob’s few prized possessions: “Governor Engledew: I am much gratified that you got out so large a vote, so nearly all the right way, at the late election; and not less so that your state government, including the legislature, is organized and in good working order. Whatever I can I will do to protect you; meanwhile you must do your utmost to protect yourselves. A. Lincoln.”
Lincoln’s cautionary conclusion was warranted; many parts of Arkansas, especially the southwest, were still under Confederate control, and bands of bushwhackers roamed the whole state, right up to the gates of Little Rock; no citizen or soldier of that city dared to go more than a mile outside of it without heavy protection. When he was elected, Jacob sent another messenger to Stay More to ask his family to come to Little Rock in time for the inauguration, but this messenger too was ambushed and killed by bushwhackers before reaching his destination. The nervousness that Jacob exhibited during
his inaugural address was not so much from speaking to a large crowd of people as from his anxiety about his family. Except for that nervousness, his address was forthright if not eloquent, solemn if not ponderous, and dignified if not majestic. The Arkansas Gazette commented: “For a man so little versed in the arts of the public forum, Gov. Ingledew acquitted himself handily. His personal views against the institution of slavery were made unassailable. He inspired confidence in a rich future for Arkansas.” Jacob’s ladyfriend, of course, had written the address, although the sentiments expressed in it were his own.
We may with good reason wonder: why, if Jacob achieved office by popular election, did nobody in Newton County know about it? Didn’t they have the election in Newton County? Probably not, because the departure of Jacob’s cavalry had brought Cecil’s Rebels out of hiding, and Newton County was temporarily under Confederate control at the time of the election. But surely, we might ask, didn’t a single one of Jacob’s cavalrymen get furloughed or discharged after Little Rock fell to them, and return home to Newton County to spread the news of Jacob’s success? Apparently not, for General Steele intended to keep as large a force as possible on duty in Little Rock. Still, we might reasonably argue, Newton County wasn’t so isolated that no news of Jacob’s governorship would somehow trickle into it. But obviously it must have been. Because it was nearly a month after Jacob’s inauguration before Eli Willard brought the news. He had read about it in a Connecticut newspaper. Now, selling a line of elixirs, balms and unguents, which few people had the money to pay for, he came again to Stay More and was somewhat surprised to find Sarah Ingledew and her younger children still living, or trying to, at the old dogtrot.
“My congratulations, madam,” he said to her. “Or should I offer my sympathies? Have you and your husband come to a parting of the ways?”
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