Chapter 1

The Civil War, or The War Of Northern Aggression, as it was known by the men of the South, was over. The number of dead was a number so huge that none of the three brothers could understand it. 750,000 Americans, from the North and South, had died in a war some said was about the rights of the States and others said it was about slavery.

Like all wars, it was the small man who paid the price for the big man’s policies. The O’Dell family was settled in Falls City in the Nebraska Territory. When the war began the family split with me joining the Union Army, Mick joining the Confederacy, and Rory staying home to maintain the farm.

I’m Paul O’Dell. I was a cavalry soldier who distinguished myself, first as a regular and then as a Sergeant and finally as a Captain, when I outlived those around me. My rise to a captaincy was not only due to the attrition of those preceding me, but by the fact that when I had the choice, I attacked and always was in the front of the troop as they charged enemy lines.

My younger brother, Captain Mick O’Dell, served, and rose up in the ranks of the South, in much the same way. His actions alone on several occasions extended the South’s hope of victory.

Our baby brother, Rory O’Dell was not unscathed by the conflict. He lived on the family farmstead in the southeast corner of the Nebraska Territory. The O’Dell farmstead was only miles from the slave State, Missouri, and the free State, Kansas. Raiders from both came to rob him of food and cattle. His efforts to unite the local farmers made the looting of the farm and of the near-by town of Falls City, Nebraska, nigh unto impossible.

When the war was finally all over, I was at Appomattox on the Union side with General Grant, and Mick was there for the South, with General Lee. When all was said and done my brother and I resigned our field commissions and accompanied each other home.

“It doesn’t seem that it was worth anything, Paul.”

“Mick, I’m not sure that any war is ever worth the price. Remember what Pop told us that President Jefferson had said once, ‘Victory and defeat are each of the same price’. No one wins a war except the politicians.”

My brother and I rode home side by side over the next few weeks until we crossed the Mississippi and the Missouri Rivers and finally arrived at the family farm. We were greeted by Rory and a few other men.

After warm embraces and the introductions to the strangers, Mick and I were brought up to date on the arrival of border raiders. Some men were from the North and others from the South, but they rode together to fulfill their own personal desires for wealth and women. The raiders didn’t care about the end of the war. To them it was always about their own wealth and satisfactions.

Looting and rape were the order of the day among the raiders and two of their unattainable prizes were the O’Dell farmstead and the women of Falls City. Their plan was to loot the town and burn it to the ground and then take the young women for entertainment, before leaving them, raped and dead in their wake. After the town, they would take the O’Dell farm and use it as their base from which to raid Missouri and Kansas while there were no effective troops to stop them.

However, Rory O’Dell and the men and women of Falls City had a different idea. When the Confederate Army withdrew from Missouri, the townspeople retrieved the artillery pieces and ammunition left behind and had established an effective defensive perimeter. Neither side was gaining an advantage in the weeks-old assault, by the time Mick and I had arrived back at the farmstead.

After a reunion meal and then a few days of rest and relaxation, Rory set out the lay of the land. The men from Falls City described several attacks where raiders would dash into town, literally snatch women and girls off the streets and return to their camp to repeatedly rape them until they died or became useless. One of the young girls was returned to the town as an example. She was badly torn in her nether regions and pieces of flesh had been bitten out of her small breasts and her ass.

When Mick and I heard this, we knew our part in the war was not yet concluded. Rory and the townsmen quickly drew up a map of the town and the surrounding area. They guessed at the area covered by the raiders camp.

“How sure are you of the camp?” I asked.

“We’re real sure of the part facing the town and the parts we can see from town,” the leaders of the townsmen said. “We’ve ridden around the sides, but the back is a guess based on what we remember from the farms back there.”

“OK, what do you know about the raiders and any new men who might show up to join?” I asked.

“Nothing. They seem to be getting more men, but we can’t be sure of how many and where they come from.”

After memorizing the map, we three brothers rode to do what we did best, followed by the townsmen. We found a weakness in the raiders’ lines and quietly killed an even dozen of them, hiding the bodies and hoping that the missing men would be considered deserters and not raise any alarm. We then rode into Falls City, where, Rory introduced Mick and me to the town elders and we all sat down to make a plan.

The man who acted as mayor and commander began, “We have the artillery, but our ammo is limited. Add to that, they have the numbers of men, and we are at a stalemate. We don’t have enough men to break out and run them off, and they don’t like the idea of being blown to bits when they attack. So, we are at a standstill, until we run out of food. The women are already making plans to end themselves before they are taken. We are ready to die to the last man to stop the raiders and it looks like that’s what will happen.

“That would seem to not be an important factor to the raiders. Last week they captured a woman and her three daughters off their farm. The children were 12, 14, and 15 years old. Their mother was only 30. The bastards remained out of rifle shot and raped the woman and her little girls in view of the town. When the woman and the girls were dead, they kept raping the dead bodies. All the time letting us know that our women were not going to be safe whether they were alive or dead.”

“Are they well organized or held together by a few leaders?” I asked.

“We have been addressed by four men. Those four seem to be the driving force behind the raiders,” one of the elders answered.

“Then if we kill those four,” I postulated, “the chances are going to be very good that the rest of their forces will turn into a rabble and be easy to run off.”

“But who is going to kill them?” the same elder asked.

“We will,” Mick answered. Rory and I quickly agreed, and we began our planning.

That night after dark, my brothers and I went back on foot through the weakened area we’d had found in the raiders line, killing several more replacements in the process. Once through, we noticed that all of the raiders wore red leggings and red feathers in their hats. Donning those pieces of garb from our victims and taking their horses, we rode into the main area of the camp, claiming to be new recruits and asked where to go to join up.

We were directed to a large tent where we were questioned as to our loyalties. Mick, with his acquired Southern accent told the interrogator that they were fighting for themselves and no one else.

“You see to it that we get food, booze, money and pussy, not necessarily in that order, and we’ll stick around.”

Rory and I nodded, and the interrogator asked where we got our leggings and feathers.

“Some of your men weren’t paying too much attention when we rode into their camp,” I said. “We surprised them, they started shooting, we killed them. They weren’t very tough.”

“That’s why they were on guard duty at night,” the interrogator said. “Had they been any good, we would have them sleeping at night. We can use men like you three, sign or make your mark here.” The interrogator had us sign a paper and then handed each of us a new $20 gold piece.

“The whiskey is in the next tent along with some food. The pussy is in the town after we take it, unless you’re in a hurry; then there’s some old or dead pussy back by the trees.”

“Dead pussy?” Rory asked.

“Yeah, pussy is pussy. After they’re dead it tightens up pretty good,” the laughter that followed his words froze and hardened our hearts.