by John Fox
CHAPTER 25.
AFTER DAWS DILLON--GUERILLA
Once more, and for the last time, Chadwick Buford jogged along theturnpike from the Ohio to the heart of the Bluegrass. He had filled hisempty shoulder-straps with two bars. He had a bullet wound through oneshoulder and there was a beautiful sabre cut across his right cheek. Helooked the soldier every inch of him; he was, in truth, what he looked;and he was, moreover, a man. Naturally, his face was stern andresolute, if only from habit of authority, but he had known no passionduring the war that might have seared its kindness; no other feelingtoward his foes than admiration for their unquenchable courage andmiserable regret that to such men he must be a foe.
Now, it was coming spring again--the spring of '64, and but one moreyear of the war to come.
The capture of the Fourth Ohio by Morgan that autumn of '62 had givenChad his long-looked-for chance. He turned Dixie's head toward thefoothills to join Wolford, for with Wolford was the work that heloved--that leader being more like Morgan in his method and daring thanany other Federal cavalryman in the field behind him. In Kentucky, heleft the State under martial sway once more, and, thereafter, thetroubles of rebel sympathizers multiplied steadily, for never again wasthe State under rebel control. A heavy hand was laid on every rebelroof. Major Buford was sent to prison again. General Dean was inVirginia, fighting, and only the fact that there was no man in the Deanhousehold on whom vengeance could fall, saved Margaret and Mrs. Deanfrom suffering, but even the time of women was to come.
On the last day of '62, Murfreesboro was fought and the second greateffort of the Confederacy at the West was lost. Again Bragg withdrew.On New Year's Day, '63, Lincoln freed the slaves--and no rebel was moreindignant than was Chadwick Buford. The Kentucky Unionists, in general,protested: the Confederates had broken the Constitution, they said; theUnionists were helping to maintain that contract and now the Federalshad broken the Constitution, and their own high ground was swept frombeneath their feet. They protested as bitterly as their foes, be itsaid, against the Federals breaking up political conventions withbayonets and against the ruin of innocent citizens for the crimes ofguerillas, for whose acts nobody was responsible, but all to no avail.The terrorism only grew the more.
When summer came, and while Grant was bisecting the Confederacy atVicksburg, by opening the Mississippi, and Lee was fighting Gettysburg,Chad, with Wolford, chased Morgan when he gathered his clans for hislast daring venture--to cross the Ohio and strike the enemy on its ownhearth-stones--and thus give him a little taste of what the South hadlong known from border to border. Pursued by Federals, Morgan gotacross the river, waving a farewell to his pursuing enemies on theother bank, and struck out. Within three days, one hundred thousand menwere after him and his two thousand daredevils, cutting down treesbehind him (in case he should return!), flanking him, getting in hisfront, but on he went, uncaught and spreading terror for a thousandmiles, while behind him for six hundred miles country people lined thedusty road, singing "Rally 'round the Flag, Boys," and handing outfried chicken and blackberry-pie to his pursuers. Men taken afterwardwith typhoid fever sang that song through their delirium and tastedfried chicken no more as long as they lived. Hemmed in as Morgan was,he would have gotten away, but for the fact that a heavy fog made himmiss the crossing of the river, and for the further reason that thefirst rise in the river in that month for twenty years made itimpossible for his command to swim. He might have fought out, but hisammunition was gone. Many did escape, and Morgan himself could havegotten away. Chad, himself, saw the rebel chief swimming the river on apowerful horse, followed by a negro servant on another--saw him turndeliberately in the middle of the stream, when it was plain that hiscommand could not escape, and make for the Ohio shore to share thefortunes of his beloved officers who were left behind. Chad heard himshout to the negro:
"Go back, you will be drowned." The negro turned his face and Chadlaughed--it was Snowball, grinning and shaking his head:
"No, Mars John, no suh!" he yelled. "It's all right fer YOU! YOU cangit a furlough, but dis nigger ain't gwine to be cotched in no freeState. 'Sides, Mars Dan, he gwine to get away, too." And Dan did getaway, and Chad, to his shame, saw Morgan and Colonel Hunt loaded on aboat to be sent down to prison in a State penitentiary! It was agrateful surprise to Chad, two months later, to learn from a Federalofficer that Morgan with six others had dug out of prison and escaped.
"I was going through that very town," said the officer, "and a fellow,shaved and sheared like a convict, got aboard and sat down in the sameseat with me. As we passed the penitentiary, he turned with a yawn--andsaid, in a matter-of-fact way:
"'That's where Morgan is kept, isn't it?" and then he drew out a flask.I thought he had wonderfully good manners in spite of his looks, and,so help me, if he didn't wave his hand, bow like a Bayard, and hand itover to me:
"'Let's drink to the hope that Morgan may always be as safe as he isnow.' I drank to his toast with a hearty Amen, and the fellow nevercracked a smile. It was Morgan himself."
Early in '64 the order had gone round for negroes to be enrolled assoldiers, and again no rebel felt more outraged than Chadwick Buford.Wolford, his commander, was dishonorably dismissed from the service forbitter protests and harsh open criticism of the Government, and Chad,himself, felt like tearing off with his own hands the straps which hehad won with so much bravery and worn with so much pride. But theinstinct that led him into the Union service kept his lips sealed whenhis respect for that service, in his own State, was well-nighgone--kept him in that State where he thought his duty lay. There wasneed of him and thousands more like him. For, while active war was nowover in Kentucky, its brood of evils was still thickening. Every countyin the State was ravaged by a guerilla band--and the ranks of thesemarauders began to be swelled by Confederates, particularly in themountains and in the hills that skirt them. Banks, trains, publicvaults, stores, were robbed right and left, and murder and revenge wereof daily occurrence. Daws Dillon was an open terror both in themountains and in the Bluegrass. Hitherto the bands had been Union andConfederate but now, more and more, men who had been rebels joinedthem. And Chad Buford could understand. For, many a rebelsoldier--"hopeless now for his cause," as Richard Hunt was wont to say,"fighting from pride, bereft of sympathy, aid, and encouragement thathe once received, and compelled to wring existence from his owncountrymen; a cavalryman on some out-post department, perhaps, withoutrations, fluttering with rags; shod, if shod at all, with shoes thatsucked in rain and cold; sleeping at night under the blanket that kepthis saddle by day from his sore-backed horse; paid, if paid at all,with waste paper; hardened into recklessness by war--many a rebelsoldier thus became a guerrilla--consoling himself, perhaps, with thethought that his desertion was not to the enemy."
Bad as the methods of such men were, they were hardly worse than themeans taken in retaliation. At first, Confederate sympathizers werearrested and held as hostages for all persons captured and detained byguerillas. Later, when a citizen was killed by one of these bands, fourprisoners, supposed to be chosen from this class of free-booters, weretaken from prison and shot to death on the spot where the deed wasdone. Now it was rare that one of these brigands was ever taken alive,and thus regular soldier after soldier who was a prisoner of war, andentitled to consideration as such, was taken from prison and murderedby the Commandant without even a court-martial. It was such a deaththat Dan Dean and Rebel Jerry had narrowly escaped. Union men wereimprisoned even for protesting against these outrages, so that betweenguerilla and provost-marshal no citizen, whether Federal orConfederate, in sympathy, felt safe in property, life, or liberty. Thebetter Unionists were alienated, but worse yet was to come. Hitherto,only the finest chivalry had been shown women and children throughoutthe war. Women whose brothers and husbands and sons were in the rebelarmy, or dead on the battle-field, were banished now with theirchildren to Canada under a negro guard, or sent to prison. Stateauthorities became openly arrayed against provost-marshals and theirfollowers. There was almos
t an open clash. The Governor, a Unionist,threatened even to recall the Kentucky troops from the field to comeback and protect their homes. Even the Home Guards got disgusted withtheir masters, and for a while it seemed as if the State, betweenguerilla and provost-marshal, would go to pieces. For months theConfederates had repudiated all connection with these free-booters andhad joined with Federals in hunting them down, but when the Stategovernment tried to raise troops to crush them, the Commandant not onlyordered his troops to resist the State, but ordered the muster-out ofall State troops then in service.
The Deans little knew then how much trouble Captain Chad Buford, whosedaring service against guerillas had given him great power with theUnion authorities, had saved them--how he had kept them from arrest andimprisonment on the charge of none other than Jerome Conners, theoverseer; how he had ridden out to pay his personal respects to thecomplainant, and that brave gentleman, seeing him from afar, hadmounted his horse and fled, terror-stricken. They never knew that justafter this he had got a furlough and gone to see Grant himself, who hadsent him on to tell his story to Mr. Lincoln.
"Go back to Kentucky, then," said Grant, with his quiet smile, "and ifGeneral Ward has nothing particular for you to do, I want him to sendyou to me," and Chad had gone from him, dizzy with pride and hope.
"I'm going to do something," said Mr. Lincoln, "and I'm going to do itright away."
And now, in the spring of '64, Chad carried in his breast despatchesfrom the President himself to General Ward at Lexington.
As he rode over the next hill, from which he would get his firstglimpse of his old home and the Deans', his heart beat fast and hiseyes swept both sides of the road. Both houses: even the Deans'--wereshuttered and closed--both tenantless. He saw not even a negro cabinthat showed a sign of life.
On he went at a gallop toward Lexington. Not a single rebel flag had heseen since he left the Ohio, nor was he at all surprised; the end couldnot be far off, and there was no chance that the Federals would everagain lose the State.
On the edge of the town he overtook a Federal officer. It was HarryDean, pale and thin from long imprisonment and sickness. Harry had beenwith Sherman, had been captured again, and, in prison, had almost diedwith fever. He had come home to get well only to find his sister andmother sent as exiles to Canada. Major Buford was still in prison, MissLucy was dead, and Jerome Conners seemed master of the house and farm.General Dean had been killed, had been sent home, and was buried in thegarden. It was only two days after the burial, Harry said, thatMargaret and her mother had to leave their home. Even the bandages thatMrs. Dean had brought out to Chad's wounded sergeant, that night he hadcaptured and lost Dan, had been brought up as proof that she andMargaret were aiding and abetting Confederates. Dan had gone to joinMorgan and Colonel Hunt over in southwestern Virginia, where Morgan hadat last got a new command only a few months before. Harry made no wordof comment, but Chad's heart got bitter as gall as he listened. Andthis had happened to the Deans while he was gone to serve them. But thebloody Commandant of the State would be removed from power--that muchgood had been done--as Chad learned when he presented himself, with ablack face, to his general.
"I could not help it," said the General, quickly. "He seems to havehated the Deans." And again read the despatches slowly. "You have donegood work. There will be less trouble now." Then he paused. "I have hada letter from General Grant. He wants you on his staff." Again hepaused, and it took the three past years of discipline to help Chadkeep his self-control. "That is, if I have nothing particular for youto do. He seems to know what you have done and to suspect that theremay be something more here for you to do. He's right. I want you todestroy Daws Dillon and his band. There will be no peace until he isout of the way. You know the mountains better than anybody. You are theman for the work. You will take one company from Wolford's regiment--hehas been reinstated, you know--and go at once. When you have finishedthat--you can go to General Grant." The General smiled. "You are ratheryoung to be so near a major--perhaps."
A major! The quick joy of the thought left him when he went down thestairs to the portico and saw Harry Dean's thin, sad face, and thoughtof the new grave in the Deans' garden and those two lonely women inexile. There was one small grain of consolation. It was his old enemy,Daws Dillon, who had slain Joel Turner; Daws who had almost ruinedMajor Buford and had sent him to prison--Daws had played no small partin the sorrows of the Deans, and on the heels of Daws Dillon he soonwould be.
"I suppose I am to go with you," said Harry.
"Why, yes," said Chad, startled; "how did you know?"
"I didn't know. How far is Dillon's hiding-place from where Morgan is?"
"Across the mountains." Chad understood suddenly. "You won't have togo," he said, quickly.
"I'll go where I am ordered," said Harry Dean.