Chapter 1: Stealing The Coins

My name is Captain John Merrill. I am the leader of a band of Confederate Raiders working behind the Union lines. It is April 11,1865. I received word yesterday from one of our spies that the Union payroll for the troops stationed in north Mississippi has arrived in Memphis and is being prepared for shipment south. Since there are no Confederate armies left in North Mississippi, my spy says it will not be heavily guarded. I picked 6 of my best and most loyal men and we laid in ambush along the river road.

My spy was right! There were two covered wagons, each pulled by 4 mules, along with 4 riders on horseback. Counting the two men in each wagon there were a total of 8 men. I noticed the riders were all armed with the Spencer rifles which were in scabbards under their right leg.

When the wagons were in my kill zone, I gave the order “FIRE”! Things then started to happen very fast. The four men on horseback fell to the ground dead! The cover on the lead wagon lifted to reveal 10 Union soldiers armed with those damn Spencer rifles. They began firing at us. I was hit in the left shoulder and four of my men were killed instantly. The drivers slapped the mules and they took off at a run. I shot one of the lead mules in that first wagon. It dropped dead from a .44 caliber round fired from my Henry rifle. The wagon with the troops flipped over! While the men who survived the crash were getting to their feet, me and my remaining two men ran up. A shot rang out and another of my men dropped dead. Another shot and my last man was on the ground screaming in pain from a shot to the stomach as I killed the last Union trooper.

The second wagon was sitting still. I approached it and found both the driver and his partner dead. I walked back to my wounded man. As I helped him into the wagon I saw it, 25 sacks of Yankee Gold! This might not win the war, but it would cause those troops who were not going to get paid for the next three months to maybe think about going back home.

I cut two mules loose from the overturned wagon and shot the other two. Both had broken legs. The mules I cut loose wondered off.

Back in the wagon, I drove towards an old road that was seldom used anymore. It was in a heavily forested area and would provide some cover. The payroll was not expected to arrive for two more days so with any luck I would have a two-day head start.

Corporal Mike Anderson was badly wounded and we both knew his chance for survival was slim. He was groaning in the back of the wagon and asking for water. I knew I should not give it to him, but what the hell. The kid is dying. I gave him a drink.

I drove until the moon was high, then stopped to rest the mules. I tried to sleep but it was an uneasy sleep. The next morning Mike shook me awake.

“Captain! Wake up! Look at this!”

He was holding a newspaper he had found in the back of the wagon. The headlines said, “THE WAR IS OVER!” General Lee had surrendered three days ago!

“Just my luck. I get kilt after the war is over.”

He collapsed and never regained consciousness. I could not find a shovel in the wagon to bury him. I laid his body on the side of the road and drove off.

What am I going to do? What I had done was not an act of war. The war was over! I robbed an army payroll. I will be considered a thief! A common criminal! Maybe if I gave it back ... what about those 18 men we killed? They will hang me for sure! I need to get home. My wound is getting infected, I can smell it.

If I can just get home, my wife, Marilyn, and her maid, Lottie can fix me up just like they did three years ago when I was wounded at Shiloh. I almost died before a couple of my men drug me home on a sled behind a horse. I spent 4 months hiding in the root cellar. It was my wife who had the idea of having a sandstone headstone made saying I died of my wounds. The Yankees gave up looking for me when they saw my grave.

The idea of me being dead had helped when I organized my ‘Raiders’. I took a different name to protect my family from any Yankee repercussions. But now I am wounded again and a lot farther from home. I traveled at night and hid best I could during the day. I drank water from the many streams I crossed and ate what berries I could find alongside the road. That hole in my shoulder got worse by the day. I could hardly stand the smell by the time I pulled up in front of my house. I managed to tell Marilyn what happened and told her to hide the gold. That’s the last thing I remember.