Chapter 1

My name is James Evans. I came from Dublin, Georgia. After I finished normal school (eighth grade), I told my father and mother that I wanted to go west and seek my fortune (I read that somewhere).

Dad calmed my ardor for travel by telling me some of the things I would need to travel safely and comfortably. Later I thought that he was trying to dissuade me from leaving, and that he truly did, for a while.

My family was not rich, but our good farm kept us in food and paid the bills with bale and a half cotton. We didn't own slaves, but I made extra money by doing jobs on neighboring plantations that were too dangerous for the expensive slaves to be risked.

I learned to fell trees and I could drive stakes with them if need be. I also learned to carpenter by working with our neighbor, Wyatt Kemp. He was a good rough and finish carpenter, and taught me how to build things, and to maintain my tools.

I never totally lost my desire to go west, so I tried to learn how to hunt and take care of hides and meat. I bought a double barrel shotgun in 16 gauge, and learned how to load and shoot it well. I also acquired a .36 caliber pistol, and learned to shoot it well enough.

After working and saving for three more years, I bought two mules and tack to go with them. Bob was a good size to use for riding or work, and Sis was a big mule to use for draft work.

Over the next year, using my good mules I was able to get additional work, and saved up a hundred dollars.

I talked about it with my father, mother and sisters. I wanted to go out west and try to find a place where I could farm, ranch or mine. I would write letters to them when I could. I planned to go in the spring.

During the winter, I worked and bought those things that Dad and I thought I would need for my trip. I had a small tent, some cookware, and a couple of water bags. I bought caps, powder and shot for the shotgun and pistol.

Wyatt gave me some of his "spare" carpenter's tools. I also bought three knives, an axe and a hatchet, as well as a good shovel.

My family gave me a Colt 1851 revolver in .36 caliber for Christmas. Momma told me she meant for me to be able to take care of myself while I was gone.

I learned to load shoot and take care of the new pistol. The caliber of both of my pistols allowed me to use the same balls for each. I thought that was very handy. I carried the pistol in my belt and the revolver in a shoulder holster that I made for myself.

One fine day in March of 1853 I left my family home to a tearful farewell, and told my mother I would write as often as I could. Dad gave me his compass and told me to trust it.

At the age of seventeen, I was off to seek my fortune. I had a good amount of supplies and tools, so both of the mules were called to pack duty. I was wearing my moccasins, since I would be walking. I headed west and enjoyed pleasant weather. I camped out instead of spending my money on rooms. I bathed in creeks and hunted for small game. I got to be a good shot with my pistol. It was more accurate than my revolver, and I could easily get hits on rabbits at 25 yards.

The mules were good foragers and I didn't have to augment their grazing too heavily. I crossed the Chattahoochee River on the ferry at Columbus and was in Alabama. I replenished some of my supplies at Opelika.

The people I met were mostly friendly. I followed my father's advice and stayed away from drinking and gambling. I had a good bit of time to think about things. I thought about what I wanted to do and dreamed about having a nice house and a good wife.

I ran into trouble in Montgomery. I had put my stock in a stable and was going to get something to eat. I had stepped into the street when a big man knocked me down. "Pardon me," I said, using my best manners.

"Boy, you need to watch where you are going," he slurred, obviously a bit tipsy.

I got up and walked toward the restaurant. "Hey, give me back my watch." He yelled.

I turned around and said, "Mister, I don't even have a watch. One of your drinking buddies must have picked your pocket."

He strode toward me. He towered over my 5' 11" height and must have outweighed me by 60 pounds.

Before he got in reach, I pulled my pistol from my belt, cocked it and pointed it at his head. "Mister, I don't know who you are, and I don't want to shoot you, but I'm not gonna let you beat me because you're drunk."