The Guerilla Hunter

The storekeeper smiled.

"That would be Abigail Rector. She doesn't live in town. She lives on a farm about five miles west of here. She and her brother Isaac took over the farm when their folks died of cholera 'bout six years ago. She's kept it up for the most part since Isaac went off to join the Confederate Army. Comes to town 'bout once a month to trade some eggs for flour. She should have been in a couple of days ago, but I haven't seen her."

Howard thanked the storekeeper and then started riding west down a dirt wagon road. He saw the farm after riding about an hour, and turned into the lane.

The first thing he saw as he rode up to the house was a woman in the garden between the house and the barn. She looked young, maybe about his age he thought, and her golden blonde hair gleamed in the sunlight. When she saw Howard riding toward her, she ran to the side of the house and came back with a shotgun. She leveled it at Howard's chest.

"Just turn around and keep ridin' stranger or I'll shoot you out of your saddle and feed you to my hogs."

Howard was a little surprised, but he still raised his hands and smiled.

"Ma'am, I don't mean no trouble. I'm just passin' through on my way to Nacogdoches and thought I'd see if a man I served with in the Confederate Army made it home. I lost track of him after the Battle of Nashville, but he told me he had a sister named Abby in Shelby, Texas. The storekeeper in town said that would be you. Is Isaac here?"

The woman raised the shotgun until it was pointed at Howard's head.

"You're lying. Isaac never went across the Mississippi. What do you really want?"

Howard shrugged.

"I'm sure Isaac was your brother. He even showed me the letters you wrote him. He wouldn't let me read them, but he showed me where you signed them. Each one was signed Abigail Rector, Shelby, Texas and the date. He seemed pretty proud of you the way he talked. I don't think there can be two Abigail Rectors in a place as small as Shelby, so you have to be Isaac's sister."

Abigail didn't say anything for a while. If he'd seen the letters she'd sent to Isaac, this man had to be another guerilla fighter or a Union soldier who somehow found the letters and wanted to kill Isaac. She studied the man, and decided if he was a Union soldier, he'd be wearing a uniform, but he was wearing a plain shirt and trousers.

The pistol on his belt and the Spencer carbine did bother her though. Isaac had written to her about how the Spencer's were accurate and could fire almost as fast a he could fire his revolver. He'd also told her he wished he had a Colt or a Remington like the Union Army because they were better pistols than his Kerr.

If this man carried both, he had never been in the Confederate Army. The terms of surrender had been published even in Shelby, and all Confederate soldiers had been forced to give up their weapons. To get a Spencer and a Remington, the man had to have taken them from dead Union soldiers.

Only a man who'd been a guerilla fighter could have done that and kept them after the war. What Abigail couldn't figure out was why this man wanted to know where Isaac was. If he was a guerilla fighter, maybe he'd know what happened to Isaac. She smiled.

"I don't know your name, stranger, but I know you weren't in the Confederate Army. If you knew Isaac, it was because you were a guerilla fighter like he was. Who'd you fight with, Quantrill or one of the others?"

Howard was impressed with Abigail. She didn't seem to be afraid of him at all, and the way she held that shotgun told him she'd used it before. He was also impressed by how quickly she'd seen through his story and by how confident she seemed to be when she challenged him. He decided to tell her what he thought she'd believe.

"Ma'am, I'm Howard Barlow, and I did know Isaac. We rode with Captain Quantrill until he got killed, then with Todd until he got killed too. When that happened, we joined up with Red O'Malley.

"I did lie about the letters. Isaac let me read them. I know you were tryin' to get him to come home. I think he wanted to, but he thought he was doing what he could for the Confederate cause.

"When the war was over, I was tired of sleepin' on the ground and goin' hungry and told Isaac I was goin' to leave and go to Texas. I heard the folks in Texas don't care what you did in the war and I just wanted to find work and forget about the war.

"Isaac said if I got to Shelby, I should look you up and tell you he's all right. I'm not sure about that though. When I was ridin' through Archi, Missouri, I heard that Red O'Malley got himself killed along with all his men. Don't know if that's true or not, but I figured if Isaac got away, he'd head back here. I hope he did. He was a good man."

Abigail relaxed a little then. This man was probably who he said he was. Isaac had never written her about a man named Howard Barlow though, but maybe he was lying again. Though the war was over, the guerillas still were wanted, and maybe this man didn't want to use his real name because he didn't trust her. She lowered the shotgun.

"I believe what you just told me except for your name. Isaac never wrote me about any Howard Barlow."

Howard hadn't thought Isaac would have written to Abigail in that much detail. He gave her the only name he knew other than Red O'Malley.

"You saw through me, Ma'am. My real name's Jacob Meyers."

Abigail smiled then.

"I believe you now. You had anything to eat today? It doesn't look like you've had a good meal in a while. I shot a prairie hen yesterday and I got some of it and some sweet potatoes left from last night. I got some cornbread too."

Howard tried to stay calm as he entered the house. Everything he'd told Abigail was a lie. He'd have to keep his wits about him to keep that lie going, and that made him nervous.

The food was good and since Howard had been eating jerky and hardtack for a week, he welcomed the change. He did turn down Abigail's offer of another sweet potato though. He figured she only offered it to be polite. Her garden plot looked to be about big enough to feed one person.

Abigail watched the man eat, but she was still a little cautious. What he told her made sense and was about what she'd read in Isaac's letters, but he'd lied to her at first and one of her mother's favorite phrases had been, "Once a liar, always a liar."

When the man pushed his plate back and said she was a good cook, Abigail smiled.

"Thank you. Now, tell me why you lied to me at first."

Howard shrugged.

"Well, Ma'am, you know how it is since the war's over. The Union is out to round up all the guerilla fighters and I didn't know if I could trust you or not. Those letters you wrote to Isaac made me believe you weren't happy with him joining up with the guerilla fighters. I thought you might turn me in."

Abigail frowned.

"No, I wasn't happy that Isaac joined up with Quantrill. If he'd joined the Confederate Army, I could understand, but he was only fifteen when he left and they wouldn't take him. Quantrill did. I've seen what Quantrill and the others did to the people of Texas during the winters. They caught men who deserted from the Confederate Army because their families needed help if they were going to survive. When they caught them, they either shot them as traitors or sent them back to be shot. They took food from the women trying to keep their families fed. Quantrill and the others were no better than thieves and murderers. What they did to some women...well, it was worse than just robbing them of food.

"Isaac wrote that he didn't do those things. He wrote about shooting at Union soldiers, but he said he didn't think he'd killed any. He also wrote that he didn't agree with what Quantrill's bunch was doing to the common people, so he went along with them on their raids and he took food and horses, but he never killed anybody. He'd just shoot his pistol like everybody else, but he was aiming over people's heads.

"I don't know if he did or not, but men like that are like rotten apples in a barrel. The rotten ones may be on the bottom, but the rot will work its way to the top of the barrel. I just hope Isaac didn't turn into one of them."

Howard nodded.

"I was like that too. I think I did kill a couple of Union soldiers, but I'm not sure. Everybody was shooting at them, so it was hard to tell. I didn't actually see Isaac kill anybody, so maybe he didn't turn into one of them. I left because I was just tired of it all. Maybe he did the same thing after I did."

Abigail stood up and picked up Howard's plate.

"The war is over now, and all I want is to be left alone to live like I want to live. Turning you in wouldn't make me feel better. I'd feel worse because I'd be sending some woman's son or husband away from her for a long time. I know what that's like. I have things that need to be done but I'm not strong enough or I don't know how to do them. I wouldn't wish that on any woman."

It was becoming obvious to Howard that Isaac wasn't there. If he had been, Abigail would have told him since she thought he knew Isaac. He was sure that Isaac would soon come home though. With none of Red's band left, there was no reason for him to stay, and it would be hard for him to link up with another band. Another band would be suspicious of anyone wanting to join them because there were still Union sympathetic bands operating out of Kansas. Those groups had infiltrated the Confederate guerillas before.

His best bet was to stay in the area for another week or so. He'd pushed himself and Daley to make it to Shelby in a week because he thought Isaac had a head start, but Isaac was probably doing what he'd learned to do -- be cautious and stay hidden most of the time. He'd also have to stop and find food since he'd ridden away from the camp without anything.

Howard smiled.

"Maybe I could help you do some of those things while I'm waiting for Isaac to come home. I grew up on a farm so I know how to do most things. What is it that you need doing?"

Abigail had a large pile of logs that Howard figured Isaac had cut and stacked for firewood. Her problem was about every other day, she had to saw off sections of log short enough to fit in her cookstove and then split it into pieces. Howard decided he'd cut a supply that would last a week or so.

When he tried the crosscut saw Abigail showed him, it was so dull he wondered how she ever managed to saw off even one section. He found a file in the barn, sharpened the saw, and then re-set the saw teeth. Once he'd done that, he sawed off a dozen lengths.

Her axe was also dull, so he used the same file to sharpen it and then split the sections of log into eight pieces each and piled them under the eaves of the house next to the kitchen door.

That job took Howard about four hours, so there were still almost two hours of daylight left. He walked out to where Abigail was digging some potatoes.

"Abigail, I think you're out of meat. If I can borrow your shotgun, I'll see if I can get us a rabbit or two for supper."

Abigail said she needed the shotgun in case somebody came to the house while he was gone. Howard handed her his Remington revolver.

"Can you shoot a revolver? It's loaded and the caps are on the nipples. All you have to do is cock the hammer, aim, and pull the trigger."

Abigail brought Howard the shotgun, and handed it to him.

"Out there in the field behind the barn there are a lot of rabbits. They run so fast I can't hit them, but maybe you can. Don't shoot too much though. I don't have a lot of powder and shot left."

An hour later, Howard walked back to the house carrying two rabbits. He'd gotten lucky and got them with one shot each. When Abigail saw them, she smiled.

"You're a good shot, just like Isaac was. I'll fry them both with the potatoes I dug up, and we'll have one for supper and one for dinner tomorrow."

After supper that night, Howard took Daley to the barn, took off his saddle and bridle, and turned him out into the pasture. Then, he found a spot in the barn that looked reasonably comfortable and spread out his bedroll. He'd told Abigail he'd sleep in the barn so she wouldn't have to worry during the night. He'd also cleaned and loaded the shotgun for her. She didn't object to either. She just said when he woke up, she'd fix breakfast. It wouldn't be much, just some ground corn boiled into grits and barley coffee, but it would fill him up.

Over the next week, Howard worked everyday fixing something that was broken. Abigail had a boar and a sow hog and they kept trying to root their way out of their pen. Howard cut logs and staked them on the ground around the pen to stop that. He split some shakes off another log and fixed a place on the house roof that Abigail said leaked when it rained.

The list of things that needed to be done seemed to never end, but Howard knew that was just the way life was. It had been that way since he could remember -- roofs always needed some repairs after a winter, livestock seemed to always try to escape, and rabbits and deer always tried to eat the garden crops.

Howard took care of all those things the same way he had at home before the war. It was work, but he found that he enjoyed it. He could stand up at the end of the day, look at what he'd accomplished, and smile to himself. This was a life he could enjoy again as soon as he took Isaac back to Kansas City.

The only thing that bothered him was taking Isaac away from Abigail. She'd managed without him for a little over four years, but she'd only just managed. When Howard took him away again, she'd be faced with going back to that life. She'd survive, but as Howard got to know her, he thought she deserved more than just survival. She was a good, hard-working woman.

By then, it was almost November and the days and nights were getting colder. On Monday of the second week, Howard saw frost on the ground. That meant it would be getting colder fast. After Abigail fixed breakfast and they ate, he told her he was going hunting.

The buck deer that stepped out of the trees and into the small clearing by the creek was looking to get a drink. When the.50 caliber minié ball struck him in the chest, he ran about a hundred feet and then collapsed. Howard gutted the deer and then dragged it back to the house. He'd hung it from the rafters in the barn when Abigail came to see what he was doing.

Her mouth fell open when she saw the buck.

"You shot a deer? We'll have meat for at least two weeks now."

Howard grinned.

"If you can cook a deer we will. It's cold enough now he can hang here from the barn rafters and not spoil, so we'll be eating pretty good I bet."

They did eat well. Abigail had raised enough vegetables to tide them both over the winter, so for that supper, she roasted a haunch over the fireplace and fried some potatoes to go with it.

When they finished eating, Abigail picked up their plates, then stopped and turned to Howard.

"It must be cold sleeping in the barn. Why don't you come sleep in Isaac's bed tonight?

Howard frowned.

"That wouldn't be proper, would it, us not bein' married and all?"

Abigail smiled.

"It wouldn't be proper for us to sleep in the same bed, but if I'm in my bed and you're in Isaac's, it wouldn't be any different than if he was here. Besides, who's gonna know way out here?"

That night as Howard lay in Isaac's bed, he was wishing Isaac would either come back or that Abigail would learn that he'd been killed. Without really knowing it, he'd become very comfortable living with her and helping her with all the things that needed doing on a farm. He'd felt proud when he'd shot the deer and prouder when he'd seen Abigail smile as she sat the plate of venison and potatoes on the table in front of him.

At the start of the war, Howard had made some friends. After growing up in the tiny community of Posey, he missed feeling close to people and a close friend made him feel more comfortable in a situation that could never be considered comfortable. After seeing those friends killed or injured in battle, he stopped trying to be close to people. It was too hard to watch them die or be taken to the surgeon crying out in pain. It was better to just keep as much distance between himself and his men as possible unless he was directing those men.

Here, at Abigail's farm, he'd been trying show her he was just there to see Issac again by helping her do things she couldn't do. Doing those things seemed to make her trust him, and he thought she seemed to like him. That had reminded him of the life he intended on living back in Posey, a life with a wife by his side. He'd gotten too close to her, close enough it was going to be hard to leave her and take her brother back to Kansas City.

The other thing that bothered him was as soon as Isaac showed up, the lie he'd been living would be exposed. That would make him feel bad, not for himself, but for Abigail. She'd believed him and trusted him, and knowing the truth would probably break her.

Maybe he should just saddle Daley and ride away before Isaac came home. He'd already sent all the band to Hell except for Isaac. Would one more make him feel any better? Would his ma and pa look down from Heaven and approve?

The answer that kept coming back to him was that he wouldn't feel any different and that his ma and pa wouldn't approve. His pa had never hurt another human being in his life. He didn't believe in violence of any kind. What Howard had done was against everything he'd been taught. At the time, it seemed the right thing to do, but now...

Maybe Abigail was right. He should just stop hunting men and get on with his life as best he could. He was still mulling that over when he fell asleep.

As Abigail lay in her bed, she prayed that Isaac would come home soon. She missed him, but it was more than that. When Isaac came home, they'd be a family again and the man who said he was Jacob Meyers would leave.

She still wasn't sure that was his real name, but it probably was since Isaac had written that Jacob Meyers was one of the band of guerillas. What she was sure of was that even though the man had been part of the band, he didn't seem like a bad man. He was just the opposite of what she'd imagined a guerilla fighter to be.

He was helping her just like Isaac had after their parents died, and he seemed to be happy doing it. That was good, but it was also a problem because she'd started to rely on him.

No, she thought, it was more than relying on him. She'd grown comfortable with him being around, comfortable fixing meals for them both, and comfortable seeing him sitting at her table in the same chair her father had used. It was all becoming a life she'd thought she'd never live again, and as soon as Isaac came home, the man would leave and that life would end again.

She found herself hoping he would stay. Maybe if he and Isaac were friends, Isaac would ask him to stay. She hoped that would happen because women weren't supposed to ask a man to do something like that. If she did ask him, he'd think she was a loose woman, or at least that's what her mother had told her.

A tear slipped down her cheek when she imagined the day he would leave. He'd just say goodbye and ride down the lane and leave her and Isaac by themselves. She'd never forget him, she knew that, but there was nothing she could do to stop him if he decided to go.

She also considered the possibility that Isaac might not come back. She hadn't heard from Isaac in...must be at least a month now. Maybe he was dead. How long would the man wait before he decided it was time for him to move on? He'd stayed for a little over a week so far and he hadn't said anything about leaving. Maybe he'd stay the winter. She hoped so because winter meant there was very little to do and since she was used to having the man around to talk with, if he left she'd be all alone again. When sleep finally came, she was worrying about being left by herself without Isaac or anyone else to help her.