Chapter 1

Daddy sent me to town with a list of items to bring home in our wagon that was pulled by a pair of mules in July of 1862. All our work animals had names, and these two were named as Benny and Henny. It was supposed to be a joke, but it stuck.

The nearest town was Selmer which probably had a population of nearly three hundred people. They had a big general store and a couple of saloons with upstairs visitation areas that Dad explained to me. The town had three churches. The downtown area had raised wooden sidewalks so that women could walk from store to store without getting muddy. The people in town were always trying to be as fancy as Memphis.

I usually wasn’t allowed to go into town since the war began earlier in the year, as Dad was always afraid that I would be conscripted and sent off to fight. I wasn’t very smart about anything, but Mom had taught me to read and write, which was about as much as the local school would do. I could read books that Mom had and read them to Dad at night. I think we bonded more during that time than any other.

Dad had taught me how to act as if I was addled so that I would act confused and fearful until they would let me be if one of the military men harassed me to join up. I needed to be at home with the family to help keep us in food.

My little brother was too small to be taken and it was early in the war, so the soldiers still respected my mom and sister. We were very close to the main road, so we saw a lot of traffic.

Tennessee seceded in July 1861 and Eastern Tennessee was considered a major objective of the union by November 1861 through the attacks in January 1862. The union had not moved west toward the Mississippi yet.

I told Dad how there was so many soldiers in Selmer and they were being very abusive to all who were there. I had been able to fill the list we needed, but the stores would soon be empty if the soldiers kept taking without paying. There was also news that union forces were moving across Tennessee.

Dad sat down with me one night a few weeks later, and said, “Son, you’re sixteen, almost seventeen, and you need to decide if you’re going to fight in the war or go west to get away from all this. I think you’re going to be either conscripted or shot for being a shirker if you stay. You’re smart enough to feed yourself and to find your way west. That’s the thing to do. Go west as far as you can to get out of this. Write us a letter and post it when you get far away. We’ll want to know how you are doing. Tell us when you land somewhere so your mom can write back to you.”

I threw a blanket and saddle over Benny the mule the next morning, leaving Dad with Henny and Kenny. I had a poke full of food to eat for a while, and four dollars’ worth of coins that Dad was able to give me. I had one of the three Springfield Muskets that Dad had traded for around 1860. He taught me to shoot and hit a squirrel at fifty to sixty yards. My proudest moment was downing a deer at almost a hundred yards. I think Dad was prouder than me.

Benny and I went west and did what Dad said by traveling off the road until we could get across the Mississippi. I bought passage across the river for my mule and me for forty cents. It worked out because the man who ran the ferry paid me a dollar to clean up all the animal poop from the horses, mules, oxen, and beef that were on the big ferry. It wasn’t anything I wasn’t used to. It took almost all day to cross the big river, but it was done. I didn’t get too far from all the people and wagon trains staging on the other side of the river and was able to hobble Benny and sleep on my stuff.

No one bothered me all night, so I was up early eating some of the last of my jerky and biscuits. I only had a few dollars to use and figured I might buy some jerky and biscuits from one of the wagon people. I needed enough for the leg between there and Tulsa in the Indian Nations. I learned it was about three hundred miles, which would take about three weeks. That’s twenty-one days of food. There was another way to do this and that was to sign on with a wagon train going that way. I could be valuable taking care of stock, driving a wagon, or doing about anything necessary. I knew I could get fed during that time so I hunted up the wagon master to talk to him.

I explained to the man, “I’m traveling alone and need to spend some of my poke on some food to last me until Tulsa. I could work for you cheap and do a variety of jobs. I know how to take care of stock, I can drive a wagon, and if you need a hunter, I can do that too.”

The wagon master appraisingly looked me over, and said, “I see you’re riding a mule. Can you herd the stock on him?”

“He handles well, Sir, but truthfully I’ve never done that with him.”

The man rubbed his stubbly chin and said, “How about I try you with that to see how you do. There are a couple of wagons that could use drivers, but I can pay you a dollar a day plus some grain for your animal if you can herd stock. I think drivers get paid about half that, but they eat better.”

“I’ll do what you need me to do, Sir. I’m excited to get a paying job with food.”

He smiled at me and asked, “What’s your name, Son? I need to write it in the ledger.”

“I’m Andrew Jefferson Davis, from near Selmer, Tennessee. Some called me Andrew or Andy, and some along with my Dad called me Jeff. I’ll answer to almost anything.”

The wagon master laughed, “I’m Milton Cassidy, and am like you, I will answer to Milton, Milt, Cassidy, or hey you. We should get along fine. My wagon is right here if you want to put your stuff in it. Use one of those boxed off areas. It may be difficult to get to when the wagon is full, but just rearrange things to get at what you need.”

“What do you want me to do now, Sir?”

The man said, “Since you don’t seem to want to spend your last dollar in the saloons or with the bar girls, go out and say hello to that man sitting his horse with the stock. He’ll teach you what you don’t know about animals.”

I walked Benny out to where the man was watching the animals. I pulled up and sat my mule next to his horse and said, “Mr. Cassidy hired me to help watch the animals and said you could teach me what to do.”

The man with long hair tied back under a hat turned to me, revealing a very weathered face. A raspy voice, while using his hands to make sign, asked, “What’s name?”

I smiled and said also signing, “Andrew Jefferson Davis out of near Selmer, Tennessee.”

The man nodded and almost smiled as he slapped his chest, and said, “Me Hawk.”

Nothing more was said for almost a half hour and then he said, “Hawk, go eat, use river. Animals quiet and like your mule. Move through them and talk to them. They like that.”

I watched as Hawk slowly walked his horse out of the mix of animals, and galloped toward the river at a lower level than the camp when free.

What do you say to a bunch of mules, horses, oxen, and cattle to make them feel good? I moved through the stock and kept up a constant soft chatter. “You are so beautiful and I’m sure you are a special animal, good at pulling that big wagon. I said to a horse, ‘Look at you; I’ll bet that you’ll be strutting around for who rides you tomorrow. Look at you, you big ox. I’ll bet you can pull a train down the trail by yourself’. I kept on until I felt someone come up next to me.

Hawk was smiling and said, “Now you spoil the animals and they will expect more grain for supper.”

Hawk said, “You make the animals feel good. There are times it is difficult, but you seem to know what will calm them. Go for something to bring back to eat so we’ll be ready when the men come from the town. You’re new and some of them may think you’re sparkin’ their women. They get liquored up and believe all kinds of things, especially if they have been shining on the bar girls.”

I didn’t know how much trouble this was going to be so I wrapped a bunch of biscuits and about five pounds of jerky in my leather pouch. This could keep me for over a week. I didn’t want to get caught out without food. All my stuff was still in my saddle bags, so I was going to be free if it came out that way.

Hawk was smart and kept me on the far side of the herd of stock. He greeted the groups that came and settled down next to their wagons. I thought I would be okay until a rider came up near me, and hollered, “Who are you to be in with our animals? Have you been using our women while we were in town? Come on out here so I can get a look at you. Look at you, I’ll bet you’re sparkin’ most of the women in the camp. Well, I’m not havin’ it and I’m gonna fix ya so yous can’t do no more sparkin’.”

The man actually shot at me. I felt the breeze as the bullet passed by me. I saw him aim his pistol again and leaned down to attempt to ride away. The man shot two more times but wasn’t close but I didn’t need this and rode away. I stopped at one of the switchbacks of the fast running creek and let Ben drink his fill.

Knowing that staying with that wagon train was going to be a problem, I decided to head to Tulsa in the Oklahoma territory on my own.

Ben and I traveled all night under a full moon that lit up the road for us. We traveled all night and then most of the next day. We were still following the creek that went back toward the Mississippi. There was a big stand of trees and brush next to the creek so I moved into there and hobbled my mule so he could eat, drink, and rest. Knowing how slow a wagon train moved, I figured I had traveled at least forty miles so I was a long way ahead of them.

I decided I needed to clean up so I stripped and used the lye soap I had to wash my clothes. I washed my body too and felt great with clean hair and skin. I used some of my dry clothes to dry off a little, and hung my freshly washed clothes up on the brush. I snuggled under my bedroll blanket and had a great night’s sleep.

There was always danger when you’re out alone like I was, but you couldn’t hide forever. I was soon packed up and traveling west toward Tulsa. I kept about a quarter mile off the main road and tried to keep low so that I wouldn’t stand out on the horizon. I had seen a stagecoach run past me once, and then saw another that had six teams instead of four. This coach was running fast.

A minute later I heard multiple shots fired from pistols, rifles, and shotguns. I moved Ben up a little faster and peaked over the hill to see what was going on. The stagecoach was stopped with the first team down. There were four saddled horses standing near the stagecoach with four riders on the ground.

I walked Ben up to the mess and saw two guards and a drummer inside the coach that were all dead. The driver and two boot guards were all dead, as were the four men around the horses that were standing there. The two horses that were the lead pair that were down were both beyond help, so I used one of the probable outlaws’ handguns and put both horses out of their misery.

I brought all the outlaws’ horses behind the coach and tethered them to the rear so they could follow without being pulled too hard. It was an effort to get each of the outlaws from the ground into the coach.

The harness connecting the front horses wasn’t that difficult to get from the downed horses so I put that on top of the coach along with the dead driver and the boot guards.

Each of the outlaws had nice pistols and one had a very nice Henry rifle that took cartridges. I took his scabbard and put it on Ben. The drummer had a sample case that looked interesting, so I opened it up and almost had a seizure. The case was filled with magnificently decorated handguns. I pulled the shirts off the outlaws and wrapped the guns in them and then packed them into my good bags on Benny.

Knowing that most stagecoaches never had but a single guard, I climbed up to the driver’s box and pulled one of the two boxes from the boot.

There were very large locks on the boxes that told of something special inside. The boxes were marked as being from one of the mints back east. I didn’t have anything to break the lock or hasp with, so I dropped one of the boxes to the ground and shot the lock and hasp off with one of the handguns. It took three rounds to get the lock to burst open. I wasn’t ready for what was under the lid. The chest was full of twenty-dollar gold pieces. There was more money there than the whole country had.

I dragged the chest off to the side of the road and into a clump of trees. There was a small short-handled shovel on the stage, so I dug a decent hole and buried the chest. I took one last look in the chest and pulled five of the double eagles from it. Wow, a hundred dollars. Probably more money than my daddy had ever seen at one time. I was going to change that.

I used Benny to drag the two dead horses off the road so that people wouldn’t be driving around them further widening the road. I took the other chest down from the stagecoach at the next group of trees and brush, and buried it deep in the grove of trees.

That was done, so I drove the remaining teams to the next town to advise them of what I had found. There wasn’t a lawman around, but the relay station said that I could keep the horses and gear I found on the dead men.

These people were like professional scavengers. They went through every man’s pockets and they found almost fifty dollars when they went through the drummer’s pockets and money belt. They split that with me and then there was the tack. One of the horses was a very nice looking large roan that seemed to have a good disposition. The saddle on him was beautiful, so I decided that I would keep the horse and tack. I ended up keeping the pistols and holsters of the four outlaws. I kept all the rifles and ammunition they had. I wrapped the rifles in one of their blankets and used their saddle bags for their pistol belts, holsters, and handguns.

My lace-up boots were just about worn out, with holes in the toes and the leather soles worn through. I looked at all the men’s clothes and boots to see if there were some I could use. One man had a good pair of boots that fit nicely. He was my size and had some canvas pants on that looked very tough. I stripped him and held the pants up to myself. They looked like they would fit, but I wanted to wash them first, since when the man was killed his bowels and bladder voided, as usual. I was able to find a couple of good shirts with all the buttons. There were several hats that looked good and one that was a light brown fit perfectly. It had a neck string on it to keep it from blowing away in heavy winds.

I put the horses on a string tied to Benny and headed on toward Tulsa. I found some dense trees next to a fast running creek and stopped there for the night. The first thing I did was to wash the two pair of canvas pants and the heavy shirts.

I wanted to look at the pistols I had collected and got them out. There was three .36 caliber and one .44 caliber Navy Colt. I looked through the saddle bags and found a lot of paper cartridges, along with over a hundred molded conical bullets. There were some balls for each size as well. The last pistol I looked at was the LeMatt, but it was scary with the shotgun barrel under the pistol barrel. The gun was heavy but I could see that it would be good to have in some cases with the nine shots it held. I didn’t want to be shooting this close to the road so I didn’t try to practice with any of the guns. I found that I had used the .44 Navy Colt to shoot the two horses from the stage.

I went to sleep with the horses and Benny hobbled near me. I knew that the animals would make enough noise to awaken me if anyone came around.

I woke before dawn and dressed in a pair of the new used canvas pants. They fit well and the leather pants braces or suspenders the man had fit me perfectly. I felt a little spooky wearing a dead man’s clothes, but it was nice to have good boots and a nice hat. I didn’t have any way to carry the saddles of the extra horses, so I saddled them all, including Benny. I tried to balance the loads between all the horses. I had a talk with the big roan. He was almost a buckskin color but had a bit of a white belly and a totally black mane and tail. He seemed to like me and didn’t dance around as I was adjusting the stirrups for my longer legs.

I traveled some long days passing outside a few communities and then decided to get rid of my extra animals in Russellville, Arkansas. The livery there was eager to buy the mounts along with all the tack. I sold two of the horses and kept a good looking bay along with my roan. I kept the decent looking saddle that was on the bay, although I really didn’t need it. I traded my old saddle from Ben for a pack frame and some double leather bags. I bought enough oil to seal the bags and the saddle I was using. This saddle was very comfortable, allowing me to ride for some longer days.

A gunsmith in Russellville was interested in anything I wanted to sell. I sold the man two .36 caliber Navy Colts and the other rifles I had. I wanted to have a second Henry using the cartridges, so I showed the man the pistols that had been in the case and he went crazy wanting to have them. I sort of wanted to keep at least one, but the man convinced me to sell them all. I did get a brand new Henry for my other scabbard.

I bought a couple hundred Henry cartridges and a bunch of the .36 caliber paper cartridges. The man didn’t have but fifty of the .44 paper cartridges with the conical bullets, but relented while we were dickering over the fancy guns to letting me have them. I got him to throw in a tin box that could hold all the paper cartridges, because they could go bad just from a few muggy days. I took some boot wax and smeared it around the box where the lid went on, because Dad had told me that would make for a good seal to keep out the moisture, unless the box fell in a creek or something.

My next concern was to buy enough food to last me these next two hundred miles to Tulsa. I bought some cooking gear, a metal plate, a fork, spoon, and a couple of good knives. I bought a small coffee pot, and a cast iron cooking pot, along with some smoked pork, dried beans, ground coffee beans, and some flour to make hard tack biscuits.

I was going to go around the next bigger town, but decided that I might enjoy people for a change. There were Union soldiers everywhere when I rode into town. I rode right on through and continued toward Tulsa, trying not to look back to see if anyone had noticed me.

I rode through the night and all the next day, probably covering fifty miles. I stopped at a stream with a good stand of trees around a bend. This was over a quarter mile off the road, so I should be out of sight and not noticeable. To be sure of being alone, I went to some high ground and watched out over the open prairie to see if I could see any campfires or people traveling.

I made some beans with hard tack biscuits, although I didn’t get to cook them long enough so they made me have gas all the next day. I saved the beans in a leather pouch and had them the second day and enjoyed them with the smoked pork I had.

I had the hair on my neck rising the third day out, because I felt like someone was watching me. There was a herd of antelope that weren’t spooked by me slowly riding through, so I thought a little fresh meat would be good. I let the roan wander up near the antelope, sighted in with the Henry, and dropped one of the beasts from less than fifty yards. It didn’t take but a couple of minutes to skin and dress the animal and to have the carcass ready to be cooked and made into jerky. I was going to look for a stand of trees so that I would have a place to cook the jerky and enjoy some fresh meat.

I was a single rider with a horse and mule on a tether, so I would be easy pickings if someone wanted to attack. I went to the top of the next rise I came to and stood between my horse and mule to look out in all directions to see if I could find what was making me uneasy.

With my hat on my roan’s saddle horn, I stared out in each direction and turned in a circular direction to make sure of my situation. It was on the third turn that I found what I was looking for. There was a single person on the ground moving toward me, but not rising above a crawl on his belly.

I made the circle a few more times to be sure that was the only movement, and then walked the horses to a wooded campsite with a creek. I didn’t strip the animals because I didn’t know what I would have to do. I hobbled Benny, the bay, and the roan to let them eat the grass around the creek. I used the tall brush to circle out and watch as the individual person crawled in closer and closer.

The person crawling toward me came into better focus, and I realized that it was an Indian not covered in war paint. I hadn’t seen a lot of Indians in my life, and they had all been Cherokee. One of the common things with those that I had seen was that the front of their leather shirts had rows of beads. The women wore more beads than the men, and this person crawling my way had a lot of beads on the front of their shirt.

While holding a pistol in front of me, I softly said, “Why are you hunting me?” when the person was within ten feet of me.

That shocked the stalker and caused him/her to freeze and reach for a hatchet with the handle in its breech cloth. It saw the pistol and stayed still. I figured we didn’t talk the same language, so I put the pistol on my lap and signed to the person asking why he was hunting me.

I think the stalker was taken aback because I could sign to him. He signed back that he wanted food and it looked like I had some.

I signed, “Where are your tools, your bow, and your knife?”

He had to repeat his sign a couple of time until I understood that his horse stumbled in the big river and was swept away and drowned. He lost all except his hatchet.

I asked in sign, “Will you not try to kill me if I feed you?”

The person eagerly agreed. It could have been a ploy to wait until I wasn’t watching. That wouldn’t happen because I wouldn’t go to sleep with this person around me. I started a fire and sliced a couple of big chunks of antelope meat off. I put those on the high points of the tripod where I was going to make coffee.

The Indian was pointing at the antelope hide, so I handed it to him. He soaked the hide in the creek and then scraped until all the sinew was off the leather. The person found small trees to bend in order to stretch the hide. I was slicing pieces of meat off to smoke on the side of the fire, and was joined by the Indian who signed to be given a knife to help cut the meat. The antelope was soon stripped of its meat, with it all being cooked by the fire. I had some coffee and had soaked some more beans. We had an abundance of wood, so I put the beans on to cook knowing that they wouldn’t be good until tomorrow.

The two of us ate our large chunks of antelope, grunting and moaning our pleasure. We were sitting cross-legged across the fire from each other when we had each eaten a hard tack biscuit and the Indian had tried some coffee. The Indian signed, “I am not a brave.”

That was confusing, so I signed, “Not a brave, what are you?”

The person looked confused, and then said over and over a couple of times, “Hgehya, hgehya.” It sounded more like “Geya”.

That didn’t register right away but I had known several Cherokee that were native to Tennessee and remembered the word meant woman.