Chapter 5

I took a few minutes to calm the women down and to get them to understand that there was considerable danger to them. Fortunately, they all could ride, so we collected enough horses to get them to Branson. I gave each one a Double Eagle and sent them toward town. Before they left, they helped me burn everything we could. They left, and I headed for my camp up on the hill.

I had just reached my camp when the first group of Harlow's Raiders rode in. They kind of froze in position when they arrived as if they had no idea of what to do. It was obvious that the camp was destroyed. I suppose that there was no backup plan, and most of these guys were not very bright. A few dismounted and wandered around to various places in the camp, probably checking out the place where their tents had been, but most of the men stayed mounted as if waiting for new orders.

I debated about whether or not to attack or to wait for further developments. I decided to wait. I was afraid that an attack now would send these men scattering to the four winds, and it would be impossible to find them all. I did not want that, because, mark my words, I wanted to kill everyone of them! I was sure that when Major Harlow showed up, he would work out a course of action that would keep all of the men together long enough for me to kill them.

I did not have long to wait. A second, larger group rode in not long after that first one. The leader of this gang, he had to be Major Harlow, surveyed the situation for about a minute before he shouted, "SGT. JAMES, HAVE THE MEN DISMOUNT AND POLICE THE CAMP. I WANT THIS PLACE LOOKING LIKE A PROPER MILITARY CAMP BEFORE DARK!"

A man shouted, "YES, SIR!" He then started carrying out the order. I must say that Sgt. James was the kind of NCO (Non-Commissioned Officer) that any officer would want in his command. The men quickly and efficiently cleaned up the mess and moved the bodies to an area where a common grave had been dug. The bodies were pushed into the trench and covered.

Meanwhile, two men were working on salvaging as much of the supper as they could. A supper was served before dark, and a service of some sort was held at the mass grave. The men were dismissed, and they used their tack as a sort of bedroll and pillow. A few guards were posted, but most of the men lay down for the night. It was not long before there were no signs of activity among the men, except for the glow of an occasional cigar.

I did see in the middle of the camp that the leader was using the light from a campfire to pour over a map in the company of Sgt. James. I would not know until tomorrow morning what the two had worked out, but I hoped to make that moot before the night was over.

I, too, had grabbed some supper, but mine had consisted of pemmican and water. I planned to be busy tonight, and I wanted to be full of high-energy food before I left my camp. I was going to make another visit to the enemy camp that night, and I went prepared. I left some of my weapons behind, but I had all four of my pistols and every spare cylinder, plus a pouch full of loose ammunition. I also had a Bowie knife and an Arkansas Frog Sticker (a modified stiletto about 14" in overall length).

My plan was to sneak into camp and to kill as many of the Raiders as I could before I had to leave. That would be done with my knives; the revolvers were along only if I had to engage in a firefight. I devoutly hoped not! If I had to shoot, it meant that I had screwed up, and no SEAL on a mission wants to do that! I hoped to kill around 15 men, and that should put the fear of God into the rest of the men. If they were frightened enough, they would do stupid things, and that would make them even easier to kill.

I had swapped my boots for a pair of moccasins that I had brought with me, and I was ready to go. I moved down the slope to the meadow as carefully as I could. A slip now would alert the camp, and that would negate everything that I had worked for, so far. Initially, I hoped to slip past the guards because a dead guard would alert the camp of trouble. On the other hand, if I could kill the sleeping men with a minimum of disturbance, I was betting that the guard could even be changed without alerting anybody. My plan hinged on that.

I won't talk about my specific killing method, since that is a SEAL technique that I am not supposed to talk about. Suffice it to say, the method produces the desired results without making enough noise to wake a sleeping man in the same tent.

The first guard I passed was totally unaware that the camp had been infiltrated. That was what I was hoping for, but I had never expected such slovenly work by a guard who was supposed to have been warned by the death of so many comrades this afternoon. Hell, I did not care, but I sure was glad that he was not protecting me!

I was able to dispose of four men in the approved manner within the first 15 minutes. There was no alert, and I was hoping to do even more than half of the scoundrels sleeping here before I had to leave. The camp was not laid out in an orderly manner—the men were sleeping pretty much where their fancy put them. Some were sleeping close to each other and some were sleeping widely separated from each other. I took care of the separated ones first, and that produced a total of 11 dead men by the time I was ready to try for the others.

I would be happy with five more kills, but I would be delighted if I could manage even more. The men who were sleeping close together required more care to dispose of, and I did six of them. Uh-oh, the moon was coming up, so it was time for me to leave.

One guard was in my way as I made my way out of the camp, but I took care of him as I was leaving. That meant that I had killed 22 of the "guerillas," That was a very good count, and I was proud of myself. That also meant that there were only nine men left in the camp, based on my count at the burial service.

Back at my camp, I prepared for tomorrow's action and went to sleep. I intended to wake up at dawn, and I was confident that my battle habits from my years as a SEAL on active duty were still with me. I figured that the enemy camp would wake up about that time and be like a nest of disturbed ants when they saw so many dead men who had been murdered in their sleep.

Well, I was correct on all counts. I woke up just as dawn began to break. I grabbed a quick meal of pemmican and water and pissed to relieve my bladder. Pemmican does not leave much waste, so I did not need to take the time to shit this morning. I had been counting on that.

This time, I approached the enemy camp carrying both my Henry and my Sharps. I was not sure that I would need the Henry, today, but it would be foolish to leave it behind on pure speculation. I was in a good shooting position by the time the men began to form up on what had to be the "parade ground."

It was my intention to shoot as many of the men as I could with my Sharps while they were in morning formation. I had hoped to kill enough that they would charge me so that I could kill the remainder with my Henry. I had 24 bullets in my four revolvers if it came to that, but I hoped not. Originally, I had planned to save Harlow for last so that he could see how his world had collapsed around him, but I decided that was silly. I changed my mind and planned to shoot him first so that he could not lead the defense.

I heard a whistle blow and saw the men run to take their place in the formation. I was too far away to hear what went on, but I could guess. The men were all damned jumpy, and I could see that most were scared shitless, and I hoped to cash in on that. Sgt. James had the men in formation, more or less at attention, when Harlow walked up. Obviously, he knew how many men he had lost during the night, and he was not feeling very chipper, himself. Nevertheless, he did go through the motions.

Harlow was now standing still and orating to his men. I seized that opportunity to take my shot at him. At 465 yards, a Sharps bullet does take a while to reach its target, so there was a distinct pause between my shot and when the bullet reached Harlow. Or, rather, it reached where Harlow had been. The Sharps bullet never reaches the speed of sound, so the rifle report reached Harlow before the bullet did.

That man must have had some good military training, because he dove, not dropped, to the ground the moment the bullet was fired. I could not tell if my bullet had reached him, but I could not dwell on the question. All of the men had their weapons with them in the morning formation—after my activities the day and night before, they were not going to be caught without their guns!