MacCallister, the Eagles Legacy: Dry Gulch Ambush
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“Well now, I have barbecued possum,” Sergeant Beck said.
Sherman started talking about how his mom used to cook possum and as the discussion continued, Elmer spotted a face at the far end of the bar and he was sure he had seen that man before. It took him awhile, then he remembered when, and where, he had last seen him.
Chapter Seventeen
As Elmer continued to study the sergeant who was standing at the far end of the bar, he recalled when, where, and how he had seen him. It had been over twenty years ago.
1866
Just north of New Madrid, Missouri, on the road called El Camino Real, Elmer Gleason and four other men were waiting under a cluster of trees. It was raining, and the road was covered with water and flushed with the black mud that was so indicative of the Southeast Missouri swampland.
Like Elmer, the four men with him were veterans of the recent war. They had served under him during the conflict, and so were used to working together, easily and efficiently. They were like soldiers embarked upon a specific mission, just like the many missions Elmer had led them on during the war. The big difference now was there was no war and this wasn’t a mission. This would be a robbery, plain and simple.
Elmer stood in his stirrups, scratched his crotch, and then settled back again. He looked over at the men who, as he was, were wearing oil slickers and wide brimmed hats, pulled low to keep out the rain.
“Lieutenant, you know what I’m a’ thinkin’? I’m a’ thinkin’ that maybe them Yankee soldiers ain’t goin’ to be comin’ out in this kind of weather,” one of his men said. Elmer was no longer a lieutenant, and the man who had spoken was no longer a Confederate soldier, but old habits died hard.
Elmer took off his hat and poured water from the brim, then put it back on. He reached down and patted his horse soothingly.
“Oh, they’ll be here all right,” he said. “They got near six months of tax money they’ve stole off all the farmers and businesses, an’ they’ll be wantin’ to put it on a train up at Sikeston, so’s they can send it back to Washington.”
A few minutes earlier, Elmer had sent one of his men down to the curve in the road to keep a lookout. He came riding back now, at a gallop, the hooves of his horse throwing up clods of mud and dirty water from the covered roadbed.
“I seen ’em, Lieutenant. They’re a’comin’ just like you said they would.”
“How many are there?”
“Yeah, well, that’s the thing. They’s a coach with a driver and a shotgun guard, and they’s also four outriders with ’em, two ridin’ in front of the coach, two ridin’ behind it.”
“Hold on, here,” one of the others said, the expression in his voice showing his obvious anxiety. “I didn’t know nothin’ ’bout no soldiers. I thought it was just goin’ to be somethin’ simple, like stoppin’ a coach.”
“Maybe you figured that all we would have to do is pass the hat,” Elmer said.
“No, I mean, I know’d it wasn’t goin’ to be easy. It’s just that I wasn’t countin’ on us a’ runnin’ up ag’in a bunch of soldiers is all.”
“Hell, they’s as many of us as there is of them,” one of the other men said. “The fact that they got soldiers don’t bother me none a’ tall. Hell, when you think about it, we fought ag’in the damn Yankees for purt’ nigh four years and we didn’t get nothin’ more’n food for it, and lots of times not even food. At least this time we’ll be gettin’ something out of it.”
The man who had lodged the protest looked at the others, then realized that he was alone in his fears. He nodded. “Hell, don’t you boys go getting’ no idea that I ain’t a’ goin’ to be with you. All I was doin’ was just makin’ talk about it.”
“Anyone else got anything to say?” Elmer asked.
When no one replied, Elmer nodded. “Good, I’m glad you are all still with me. Now, we’ve talked it over, and ever’one knows what to do. Finely, you got that tree ready?”
“Oh, yeah,” Finely replied. “All I got to do is give it a couple of whacks and a shove and it’ll lay down just like we want.”
“That’ll keep ’em from goin’ on ahead, but what about behind ’em?” one of the men asked.
“That ain’t no problem,” Elmer said. “With all the mud and such, they can’t pull off the road to get the coach turned around. Besides, we’ll be behind ’em.”
“Why don’t we just shoot the sons of bitches and get it over with?” someone asked. “Hell, they ain’t nothin’ but a bunch of damn Yankees anyhow.”
“We’ll take the money, but we ain’t goin’ to shoot ’em. Hell, even durin’ the war we didn’t shoot men that was just doin’ their jobs, unless they was shootin’ at us, and I don’t see no need to change it none,” Elmer said.
By now they could hear the sound of the approaching coach, though because it was around a bend that was shielded by trees, they couldn’t yet see it. That also meant that they couldn’t be seen.
“All right, ever’body get in position,” Elmer ordered.
Elmer and the others slipped back into the woods and waited for the coach. From the shouts and whistles, Elmer knew that the driver had to work the team exceptionally hard to pull the heavy coach through the thick mud.
A moment later the coach appeared.
Because Elmer had ridden with both Bloody Bill Anderson, and Quantrill, he was well experienced at setting up an ambush, and now, from his position in the trees, he studied the coach and its escort detail. As his lookout had stated, two of the soldiers were riding in front of the stagecoach and two more were riding behind the coach. In addition to the military detail, the coach driver and the guard were also armed.
By now the rain was falling so hard that visibility was limited to a few hundred feet, which meant that Elmer’s men, hidden in the trees and masked by the rain, were completely out of sight.
Elmer was just about to give the signal to drop the tree across the road when one of the soldiers in front, a sergeant, held his hand up stopping the coach.
“What’s he doin’?” one of the men asked quietly.
“I don’t know,” Elmer replied. “Looks to me like he’s maybe got him an idee that he’d better be careful.”
The sergeant came riding up the road ahead of the coach and the others of the escort detail. He looked around carefully. Elmer twisted in his saddle to make certain that his men were well concealed. He motioned for Finely, who was standing by his notched tree, to get out of sight. Finely did so, and Elmer was reassured by the fact that he couldn’t see him, even though he knew where to look.
He knew that the Yankee sergeant was experiencing a gut feeling.
“I know what you’re feeling, Yankee,” Elmer said quietly. “I’ve felt it a few times myself.”
Finally, the Yankee sergeant gave the order to proceed, and Elmer watched the coach and its escort approach, waiting for just the right moment.
At the appropriate time, Elmer brought his hand down. There were two loud thumps, loud enough to get the attention of the sergeant in charge of the escort detail. Then, with groans, creaks, and loud snapping noises, the huge cypress tree started down, falling across the muddy road with the crashing thunder of an artillery barrage. At the same time the tree hit the road in front of the coach, Elmer and his men moved out onto the road behind the coach and fired several shots into the air.
“Hold it up right there!” Elmer shouted. “I’ve got ten more men in the trees!” Elmer pointed his pistol at the soldiers. “Throw down your guns and put up your hands.”
“We’re bein’ held up!” one of the soldiers said and he threw down his rifle. The other soldiers, perhaps taking their cue from him, threw their weapons down as well. Only the sergeant refused Elmer’s order. Elmer turned his pistol toward the sergeant. “Drop your gun, Sergeant! Do it now!”
Reluctantly, the sergeant lowered his pistol, then let it drop into the mud.
Both the driver and the shotgun guard had their hands up, but neither had yet dropped t
heir weapons.
“Throw down them guns!” Elmer said, now pointing his pistol toward the two men up on the box. They complied.
“Now, I want you four Yankee boys to get down off your horses,” Elmer ordered.
Grumbling, the men got down. As soon as they did, two of Elmer’s men moved up to take the horses.
“You’re stealing our horses?” the Yankee sergeant asked.
“We’re not stealing them, we’re just denying you the use of them,” Elmer explained. “We’re going to take ’em with us for a mile or so, and then we’ll let ’em go. Like as not, they’ll wind up back in your own stable. You four boys can finish your ride in the coach. Driver, throw down the money box.”
“What money box? I ain’t got no money box,” the driver said.
“You’ve got an armed escort, but you don’t have a money box?”
“That’s the truth.”
“Here’s the thing, driver. I don’t believe you,” Elmer said. “So what I’m goin’ to do is make you two boys climb down, and I’m goin’ to climb up there and have a look myself. If I find the box, that’ll mean you was lyin’ to me, and I don’t like liars. I’ll just have to shoot you both.”
“Throw down the damn box, Abe,” the shotgun guard said anxiously.
The driver threw down the box, and Elmer smiled. “I thought you might see things my way,” he said.
One of Elmer’s men shot off the lock, then opened the lid. Inside the box were several stacks of bound greenback dollars.
“You realize, don’t you, mister, that you ain’t just stealin’ money from a stagecoach,” the sergeant said. “You’ll be stealin’ money from the United States Government.”
“Who stole the money from the people,” Elmer said.
While Elmer held the soldiers at bay, two of his men started scooping the money out of the box and putting the bills into a cloth bag. When all the money was taken from the box, they gave the bag to Elmer, who tied it to his saddle horn.
“That’s all of it, Lieutenant,” one of Elmer’s men said.
“Lieutenant?” the sergeant asked. “Wait a minute, are you men in the army?”
“We was in the army,” Elmer said. “But not your army.”
“Rebels,” the sergeant grunted. “You do know that the war is over, don’t you? Lee surrendered.”
“Yeah,” Elmer said. “Lee surrendered. We didn’t.”
1888
“Lee surrendered, we didn’t,” Elmer said aloud.
“What’s that, Mr. Gleason?” Sergeant Beck asked.
“What? Oh, nothing. I was just sort of thinkin’ out loud is all.” Elmer pointed to the soldier who had held his attention for the last few minutes. “Tell me, Sergeant Beck, what’s that fella’s name down there? The sergeant that’s standin’ off by hisself.”
“His name is Havercost,” Sergeant Beck said. “He’s got more’n thirty years in now, and is ’bout ready to retire.”
“Sergeant Havercost, you say?”
“Yes. Do you know George?”
“I can’t exactly say that I know him,” Elmer said. “But we have met.” Elmer got up from the table and walked across the room to talk to the sergeant.
“Hey, Jimmy, what you think that’s all about?” Ford asked.
“Beats the hell out of me.”
“Maybe they know’d each other durin’ the war,” Bates suggested.
“Not unless that sergeant was a Confederate,” Sherman replied.
Sergeant Beck laughed. “Believe me, George Havercost wasn’t a Rebel.”
When Elmer stepped up to the bar, Sergeant Havercost turned toward him and smiled. “You’re one of the men that brought the cows in, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Elmer replied.
“It will be good to get some beef again. Mr. Clark, give this gentleman a beer on me,” he said. He stuck out his hand. “The name is Havercost,” the sergeant said.
“Yes, I know. Sergeant Beck told me. The name is Gleason. Elmer Gleason.” Elmer took Havercost’s hand.
“You know, Mr. Gleason, I have the strangest sensation that we have met before,” Havercost said.
Elmer looked sideways at him. He knew that the sergeant was trying to piece together where they had met, and if he studied it long enough and hard enough, he was likely to come up with it. Elmer decided to give him some confusing hints. “It could be that we have met before,” he suggested. “I just come up from Texas a year or so ago. Were you down there?” In fact, Elmer had not been in Texas in several years, but he was purposely giving the sergeant misinformation.
The sergeant shook his head. “No, I’m afraid not. I’ve never been to Texas. But it could be that maybe we met durin’ the war. You look to be about my age, so I reckon you served.”
Elmer chuckled. “I did at that, Sergeant,” he said. “But if this is the same color uniform you was wearin’ then, we was on opposite sides. I was a soldier of the Confederacy, a private in Cobb’s Legion.”
Elmer had never been in Cobb’s Legion, another bit of misinformation.
The sergeant shook his head. “No, I never run into Cobb’s Legion, near ’bout all my experience was west of the Mississippi.”
“Was it? Well, sir, don’t see how we could have met durin’ the war, then. I never come west of the Mississippi until ’bout ten years ago.”
“Well, I’m old and forgetful,” Sergeant Havercost said. “I reckon I’ve just run across too many men in my day to remember ’em all. But it’s good meetin’ you, Mr. Gleason, especially with you bringin’ the beef like you done.”
Elmer smiled. “You wait till you taste it, Sergeant. Why, you’ll think you’ve died, and gone to heaven.”
“After our fare for the last few months, near ’bout anything is goin’ to be an improvement,” Sergeant Havercost said.
Elmer picked up his beer. “Thanks for the beer, Sergeant Havercost. But I reckon I’d better get back to my men, now.”
Havercost nodded, and held up his beer in salute at Elmer turned away.
Elmer smiled as he returned to his table. Havercost had not recognized him.
Chapter Eighteen
By late afternoon of the following day, there were two beef halves on spits that were suspended over glowing coals. Sergeant Beck was in charge of the cooking, which was just getting started. Morale on the post was high, not only because of the barbeque all would enjoy the next day, but also because there would be a dance tonight.
The dance was for everyone on the post, enlisted and officers alike, and it would be held at the sutler’s store, the meeting room in the back being turned over for that purpose.
Duff, Meagan, Elmer, Ford, Travis, and Calhoun had been invited to attend. The dances were somewhat restricted, due to the lack of women. The wives of the post did their part by allowing their dance cards to be filled by the bachelor officers and men, and it wasn’t all that unusual to see Colonel Gibbon’s wife, Kathleen, dancing with a young private.
There were few single women at the post, mostly laundresses who lived on Soapsuds Row washing and ironing the post laundry. As a rule, the laundresses did not stay single very long. They were prime candidates for marriage to the noncommissioned officers of the post, and the salary of a laundress, combined with the pay and allowances of a sergeant, could give some of the senior NCO households incomes to be envied by all but the highest ranking officers.
The four unmarried laundresses and Mary Meacham were the only permanent single women on the post. At present Clara Holbrook, Lieutenant Holbrook’s sister, and Meagan Parker, both but temporary guests, brought the total number of single women to six. Six single women, and eight officers’ wives, fourteen NCO wives, and Mrs. Ethel May Clark, wife of the sutler, brought the total number of women to twenty-nine. There were on the post four hundred and fifty men.
Again, Meagan bemoaned the fact that she—who as a seamstress and owner of a dress shop was always prepared for any social event—had nothing to wear to the dance.
“Really? Suppose I buy it from you, and finish it myself?”
“You can do that?” Mary asked.
“Yes.” Meagan laughed. “I know, you see me in denims and a man’s shirt, and you know that I helped bring up a herd of cows. But herding cattle is not what I do. I’m a seamstress, and I own a dress store.”
“My!” Mary said. “Oh, how wonderful! Yes, you can buy the material. It will be worth it, just to see the dress completed. The picture of it in Godey’s was very beautiful.”
“Do you have a sewing machine?”
“I don’t, but Mrs. Allison does, and she said I could borrow it, anytime.”
“Good. I’d better get busy if I want the dress to be ready in time for the dance tonight.”
When Meagan, Mary, and Clara arrived at the dance that night, the three beautiful ladies turned many a man’s head. One who had his head turned was Duff MacCallister, and he didn’t think he had ever seen Meagan more beautiful than she was tonight. He hurried over to meet her.
“You must have done an awfully good job of packing your saddlebags,” Duff teased. “This is the second dress I’ve seen you in since we arrived.”
“I borrowed the dress I wore last night. I bought this one,” Meagan said.
“Did ye’ now? And a lovely dress it is, too.”
The music for the dance was provided by the regimental band and they sat with their instruments on a raised platform to one side of the big room. The band leader, a sergeant, was wearing a uniform that had more gold on it than any of the officers who were present. At a signal from Colonel Gibbon, he lifted his baton, and the music began.
Because there were so few women and so many men, many of the younger soldiers would tie a handkerchief around their left sleeve, indicating that they would be willing to be dance partners with the other soldiers. No one thought the less of any soldier who did this. It was not considered effeminate, it was considered practical.