Take 'Em North: The 2E Brand Begins

By John Keeling

The Civil War is drawing to a close, and Barton and Tallman Edwards return to their Ozark home and a dim future. They decide to try their hand at gathering wild cattle in South Texas. After an aborted start, thanks to some creative horse trading, they return to Missouri long enough to dispose of their slim holdings. From that start, they find themselves in almost constant fights with overbearing Yankee soldiers, rustlers, thieves, Indians, and the constantly changing weather. Their dream of establishing a ranch in the mountains of Texas fuels their fighting spirits, and they are determined to see their dream to fruition.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jun 2, 2015
• ISBN: 9781496970886

John Keeling

John Keeling is an assistant professor at McNeese State University. His research and teaching interests include Louisiana history, legal history, and southern history.

Book preview

Chapter One

Late April, 1865

Somewhere in southeast Missouri

Rain had fallen steadily for three days. Tall Edwards and his older brother Bart were on their way home. That is, if they still had one. They had left the one hundred and sixty acre farm in the Ozarks to join General Sterling Price’s cavalry four years earlier. With the Confederate army defeated, there was a good chance carpetbaggers may have seized the place. Even if the carpetbaggers hadn’t taken over and Mac still had it, Tall and Bart knew they wouldn’t be all that welcome. Mac had made that clear when they had ridden off four years earlier, when he loudly declared they were stealing the horses.

You fools are gonna ride off and git yourselves killed for no reason, Mac had protested. Just ‘cause Ma’s people has three or four slaves over to Flat Creek don’t make us slave owners. Let them that owns slaves fight their own war.

If we stayed here, it’d just make you a slave owner, the way you order us around, Bart replied, with his usual sarcasm. Besides, I don’t like it that a bunch of Yankee do gooders try to tell ever’body else how to live. Me and Tall have talked it over, and we’re goin’, whether you like it or not.

Well, go then. And good riddance! Just don’t think you’re takin’ Wat, too. He ain’t even sixteen yet, and besides, I need him here to help me keep this place together.

I’ll go if I dang well please, yelled Wat. Who made you the boss around here, anyway?

Best stay, Wat said Bart. Anyway, a lot of people think this thing won’t last too long. Them city boys up north git to feelin’ like the fox in a fox hunt, they’ll likely throw down and skedaddle back home.

With an over the shoulder glare from Mac, and handshakes from Wat, Bart and Tall had ridden east. Two days, later, they found the army they were looking for, camped along the banks of Harper Creek. The colonel in command happily welcomed the two strapping young men who were deadly rifle shots. The fact they were well mounted added to their value, and they were welcomed with open arms. Walking around the camp after the evening meal, they ran into several friends and acquaintances from home. Tall would recall later that their first day in the war was the best day they would have for many years.

Now, a little over four years later, they were working their way westward, keeping off any trail or road where they would attract attention. When word came of Lee’s surrender in Virginia, the brothers had elected to forego any formal end to the war. They didn’t feel the need to swear allegiance to the Union. If all the states were going to be united again, then that was all they needed to know. They were in western Mississippi, twenty-five miles below Memphis when they informed their commander, Major Fielding, of their decision. They took their leave that very night, and made their way across the big river on a rickety ferry, both swearing it would be the last boat ride they would ever take if they made it to the west bank. The horses they rode were in no better condition than the ferry. The mare Tall had ridden to war had been shot from under him in Tennessee, and Bart’s gelding had been claimed a few months later by a Captain who deemed it too fine an animal for a corporal. After the negotiations were concluded, the Captain was minus two teeth, and Bart was minus two stripes on his sleeves. Considering the pay arrangements, Bart was inconvenienced far less than the Captain. He had vowed earlier over a meager meal that he would steal the next decent horse he saw, and that he would rather swing from a hangman’s noose off the back of a good horse, than travel on the nag he now sat. Tall was bothered, knowing this brother would do just that. He didn’t hold with horse stealing, but he was beginning to think he could be tempted, especially if they ran across two good horses together.

Tall had been wounded twice during the war. He had taken a Yankee musket ball in his left shoulder at Natchez. Six months later, a union officer wielding a saber had put a three inch gash along his right jaw. For that act, Bart had ridden up and put a bullet in the officer’s left ear. Over the four years, the brothers had covered each other’s back several times, but neither one kept a count.

As they rode through the damp night, Bart suffered through several coughing spells. Several months earlier, he had fought through a bout of pneumonia, and had spent the entire winter trying to shake the effects of the illness that had taken a heavy toll of men during that time. A doctor had finally made it to their encampment shortly before they left, and had made a cursory examination of the sick and wounded.

If I’m anywhere close to being right, I’d say you’ve either had an extremely bad case of pneumonia, or you’re in the early stages of consumption. If it’s the latter, you have some time yet, maybe a couple of years, and maybe a little longer. Turning to Tall, he added, If I were you, I’d get my brother out of here the first chance I got. This war’s about over, anyway. Take him west. And I don’t mean just back to your home. Get him out to Arizona territory or somewhere warm and dry. He’ll last longer and probably be more comfortable. I’ve even heard of people being cured by a climate like that, but I can’t guarantee that.

Bart merely nodded a thank you to the doctor. I reckon we’ll see this thing through to the end, he said, walking away.

The doctor turned again to Tall. Just remember, get him somewhere warmer and dryer. If not to Arizona territory, at least get him to Texas or New Mexico territory. There won’t be much for you boys when you get home, anyway. More opportunities for y’all further west.

Yes, sir. Sounds like good advice to me. Thank you, sir.

Chapter Two

May 8, 1865

Barry county, Missouri

The Edwards brothers rode up to the log house just after noon on a warm spring day. The door opened as they reined in, and their brother Mac stepped onto the porch. After studying them for a moment, he lowered himself onto a cane bottomed chair by the door.

Well, looks like you two are back from a real successful trip, all dressed up and well mounted. If you’re thinkin’ of gettin’ off those fine lookin’ animals, don’t. At least not until you ride over to where Ma and Pa are buried. There’s another marker been put there since you two took off. Wat lit out of here about six months after you two did, and a year or so after that, I got a letter signed by a colonel or some such, sayin’ he’d been killed in a battle in Tennessee somewhere. He’s buried in a big grave there with about fifty other fools, but I put him a marker here next to them anyway. I hadn’t figured on ever seein’ you two again, anyhow. You can stay if you’ve a mind to, but things have changed. Them grey outfits you got on might rile some of the people in authority around here now. Me, I’m gonna go along to get along. On top of all that, if you stay, you’re gonna be workin’ for me and you’ll do as I say. I aim to marry next month, and you two will have to either sleep in the barn, or build your own cabin.

Mind if I ask who the lucky lady is? Tall asked. Bart’s sarcasm was rubbing off.

Mattie Hemphill, it it’s any of your business, Mac said with a sneer.

Mattie Hemphill! exclaimed Bart. Whitey Hemphill’s daughter?

Yeah, and what of it? Whitey’s got a lot of pull around here now with the authorities. Of all the local folk, he’s the cock of the walk.

That’s fittin’. Pa always did call him a chicken thief. Bart’s sarcasm was in full bloom.

Well, that’s the way it is, whether you two heroes like it or not. What’s it gonna be?

Bart pushed his hat back and ran his fingers through his hair. Well, I reckon not. In case Whitey hasn’t told you, Old Abe outlawed slavery, and I don’t imagine you’d pay any better or more often than the army. Tall and me figure to head west, maybe down to Texas.

If Mac intended to say anything else, he was interrupted by the sounds of a carriage coming up the road. Well, Bart said, I believe that’s the bride and her old daddy comin’ to welcome us home right now. I almost didn’t recognize him without any feathers flyin’ off of him. Can’t say as I know that other feller with ‘em. Tall had to turn in his saddle to hide his reaction. Mac’s face turned beet red, and his fists clinched for just a moment, and then it passed. He got up from his chair and bounded off the porch to welcome the visitors.

Mac watched as they came closer. Turning back to Bart, he said, He showed up here a couple of years ago. Names Hubert Jenkins. He looks after Whitey’s horses, and whatever else Whitey needs him to do.

Whitey Hemphill sat astride a solid looking chestnut gelding as Mac offered his hand to help Mattie from the carriage. Mattie honey, Mr. Hemphill, I reckon you remember by brothers, Barton and Tallman.

Sure do, Whitey said, eyeing their uniforms and not bothering to dismount. You boys look like you come a long ways. Folks around here won’t hold it against you choosing the wrong side, as long as you keep your noses clean. I expect you swore your oaths and all, and Mac can sure use the help. I’ve sent a couple of men to help him get crops in the ground, but it’ll be better havin’ family with him. We got to be gettin’ on to town, but I guess we’ll see you boys at the big weddin’, huh?

I bet you do, said Bart. With a sideways look at Mac, he added An’ I bet you’re gonna throw a big chicken dinner with it, too.

Mac, helping Mattie back into the carriage, again turned red as Whitey gave him a puzzled look.

Not a bad idea. Mattie, talk to your momma about that. Be seein’ you boys. Whitey turned the chestnut, and headed back down the road. Mac and Bart locked eyes for a moment, and then Mac turned and stomped off to the barn. Jenkins gave the brothers a cautious look, and then slowly turned his horse and followed the carriage.

Only then did Bart allow a smile to cross his face. Come on, Tall. Let’s ride down to the graves, and then I want to tell you about a plan I just came up with.

Walton and Hannah Edwards were buried on a gentle rise in a small clearing surrounded by large oaks. There was a small spring at the base of the slope. With any winter moisture at all, there was always a profusion of wildflowers around it. Judging by the colors and quantity that lay before them, there had been plenty of moisture over the winter. This had been Hannah’s favorite spot when she and Walton settled here. She had wanted their cabin here, but Walton insisted he knew best, and built it almost a quarter of a mile east. When Hannah had died, the boys assumed they would bury her near the cabin, but Walton insisted she would be more at peace here, among the wildflowers she loved. He had then built a picket fence around the grave of his beloved wife. At his young age, Tall had wondered why his dad had fenced in a much larger area than just her grave required. In a few short years, he had come to understand. The brothers dismounted, opened the gate, and entered. They stood at the foot of the graves for several moments, neither one saying a word. After a few moments, Bart knelt and began pulling weeds from around the gravesite. Tall looked around, and in an instant, knew what he was to do. Within a minute or two, he held both hands full of brightly colored flowers. Returning to the graves, he offered a handful to Bart. They both then knelt and placed flowers on all three graves.

I know he’s really not here, but I’m glad Mac at least put up a marker for him, Tall said, as Bart dusted Wat’s marker with a glove. If the date in the letter Mac had received was correct, Watson Nathaniel Edwards had drawn his last breath on the same day he turned eighteen years of age.

Their horses had been allowed to graze while the brothers were at the gravesite. No need to tie ’em, Bart said. These nags probably think they’re in heaven right now, what with us not laying the spurs to their flanks, and them standin’ in grass almost belly deep. Let’s sit a spell in the shade here.

After several minutes stretched out in the shade of a huge post oak, Tall wanted to know about the plan Bart had mentioned earlier.

Well, I noticed old Whitey sat a pretty fine horse when he was here. And that carriage horse was no slouch, either. Now, with his chubby little daughter soon to be half owner of this place, I figure a couple of good mounts to help us get out of their way would be a fair trade.

Yeah, I could see that, but do you really think Whitey would think it’s a good trade? Tall still didn’t have a good grasp of what the plan was.

Well, the time of night I figure to do the trade, I don’t reckon it’ll matter much what that chicken stealin’ son of a bitch thinks. With two good mounts, we could be in Arkansas in four or five hours. In a couple of days or less, we’ll be in Indian Territory. After that, we shouldn’t have any worries. We’ll just have to post a letter with our best wishes to the happy couple from somewhere along the way. With that, another smile crossed his face, and then they both shared a big laugh. Tall looked skyward, and at that moment, he believed that somewhere up there, Walton Edwards was laughing too.

For the better part of three hours, they napped in the shade. The weather had turned to dry and warm the day before they arrived at the farm. Bart’s cough had subsided somewhat, but every spell he had only served to remind Tall of the doctor’s words. He had to get his brother to a warmer, dryer part of the country, and if they had to do it on stolen horses, well, Tall thought that was fine. Besides, any decent horse they were going to steal from Whitey Hemphill had more than likely been stolen before.

The plan called for leaving the horses tied near the spring. The ropes were long enough to allow them to get to the water, along with plenty of graze. After taking their bedrolls from the saddles, they walked the quarter of a mile back to the old home place, and as they got closer, each knew he was seeing it for the last time. They knew it, but Mac had no idea what they were planning. As they approached the cabin, he called to them to come in. There was a pot of beans, some fried ham, and a skillet of cornbread, and Mac invited them to share in it. They washed up in a pan of water on the table next to the cane bottomed chair.

Where’s them two thoroughbreds you rode in here on? I knowed they was close to dead, but I thought they could make it to the spring and back. Compared to what you two rode out on four years ago, they don’t measure up to much.

We left ‘em tied where they could graze and get to water. We’ll turn ‘em out in the morning. They may not look like much, but they’ve carried us a long ways. Besides, the ones we saw comin’ through the country don’t look much better.

Most of the good ones have been requisitioned by the army. There’s still a few good animals left in the county. Whitey probably has as many as anybody, and he don’t have that many. He was in charge of supplyin’ horses to the army from around here. He had a few people still hot about it, but it’s like he says, one man’s war is another man’s opportunity.

Tall looked at Bart as his brother mulled that saying over in his mind. Yeah, and I expect he thinks one man’s chicken is another man’s meal, too. Though not as big or as strong as Mac, Bart had always loved to put the needle to his brother. Tall could not remember it any other way.

For the third time in the few hours they’d been back, anger flashed in Mac’s face. I’ve had all I’m gonna take from you about him stealin’ chickens. That was all just a bunch of horse droppin’s Pa used to spread around just because he didn’t like Whitey. If you plan on stayin’, that better be the last time you run your mouth about that.

Well, as I recollect, lots of other people had that same opinion of ol’ Whitey. I guess now he’s moved on to stealin’ horses, so maybe he’s right about war bein’ an opportunity. The rest of the meal was consumed in silence, in spite of Tall’s attempts at conversation.

After the meal, Tall and Bart walked out to the barn. It brought back many memories to Tall. The smell, and the dust dancing in the sunlight coming through the cracks had not changed in the four years he’d been gone. He glanced up at the loft. When he was eight years old, Mac had pushed him out of the loft, breaking his left arm. Walton had cut a limb for a splint, set his arm, and then cut another smaller limb. After giving Mac a good thrashing, he had put his hand on Tall’s shoulder, and said, It’s all right, son, you can still milk a cow. It’ll just take you twice as long, that’s all. That was Walton Edwards for you. He may have seen things a little different from other people, but Tall had to admit, he was practical.

Tall was shaken from his thoughts by something hitting his shins. He looked down, and for a brief moment, could not believe his eyes. Bart, look! Old Tippy’s still alive. I had almost forgotten him. I just figured he had died. He must me close to fifteen years old. The old shepherd could barely get around, but he slowly went from Tall to Bart and back a couple of times. His age prevented him from showing the excitement he felt at seeing two friends he hadn’t seen in four years. Tall could see it was painful for Tip to get around, and he had several large areas where he had lost hair.

That old mutt ought to be put out of his misery, but I just never had the heart for it. Anyway, I guess his time’ll come soon enough. Mac had come to the barn to turn the milk cow out to her calf. No need to dump your bedrolls out here. There’s room in the house.

No. We’ve been sleepin’ in these for four years now. We’ll have to ease our way back into comfort. Besides, if we’re gonna be sleepin’ out here, we might just as well start getting’ used to it tonight, said Bart.

Suit yourselves. Mac didn’t seem all that disappointed. I’m goin’ into town after chores in the mornin’ to meet Mattie and Whitey at the bank. Old man Skaggs died last year, and Whitey got his daughter to make me a good price on his eighty acres. She’s married to a Methodist preacher in Lamar, and says she ain’t never comin’ back here. I’m takin’ out a loan to buy it. What with it joinin’ this place, it seemed like the smart thing to do. With that, he turned and headed for the house.

Six hours later, just after midnight, Bart nudged Tall, disturbing a dream in which the brothers were chasing cattle through a beautiful country. There had been a number of Texans in the pieced together outfit they finished the war with, and one of them had told Tall of wild cattle that roamed the southern part of Texas. They were descendants of cattle brought to Mexico from Spain many years before. The Texan allowed as how the cattle were there for the taking. All it took was a horse, a rope, and not too many smarts. He and Bart figured they could fill the bill.

As they quietly rolled their bedrolls, and walked from the barn, they were met by Tippy. Even with failing eyesight and only a sliver of a moon, the old dog recognized them, and did not offer to bark. As he walked past where the old dog stood, Tall knelt and scratched him between his ears. So long, Tip. We’re leavin’ you again, pardner, he whispered.

Bart paused long enough to rub his head, and whispered, So long, Tip. If you’re ever down in Texas, look us up.

Even though their mounts were a quarter of a mile from the house, they led them another quarter of a mile before mounting. Their saddles had not been cared for as they would have liked, and they did not want the creaking of the leather to wake Mac. Bart couldn’t resist one last dig at his older brother. He’s got a big day tomorrow, and he needs his sleep. I imagine after he marries Mattie, he probably won’t be sleepin’ too good, anyway.

Forty-five minutes later, the brothers sat just inside some timber on a small hill overlooking the Hemphill place. It had undergone a dramatic change from the way they recalled it before the war. The log, three room house had been replaced by a painted frame house with a shingled roof. The old barn had been torn down, and a new one stood much further from the house, no doubt at the request of the womenfolk. Earlier that day, they had taken note of how uppity Mattie had acted. The barefoot country girl in gingham now seemed to fancy herself as something different. Tall didn’t envy his eldest brother any on that count, and he wondered if Mac really knew what he was getting into. If not, Tall figured he would know soon enough.

I think I’ll trade my plug for Old Whitey’s chestnut there, Bart said as he pointed to the big gelding standing near the barn.

We can’t just waltz in there and steal two horses. They’re bound to hear us. .

Why not, said Bart. Whitey never kept any dogs around, remember. Dogs are too good a judge of character for him to want close. Besides, I bet he got his ass nipped more than once in his chicken stealin’ days. Or nights, rather.

With that, Bart led his mount to a gate, opened it, and calmly walked up to the barn. Tall had followed at a distance, and marveled at his brother’s nerve as Bart actually walked into the darkened barn. As Tall drew close to the barn, Bart came out carrying a bridle and saddle. Whispering to Tall, he said, there’s plenty of good tack in there. I think I’ll trade for this saddle, too. That army saddle was beginnin’ to bother me. With that, he turned and walked up to the chestnut, catching him by the halter, and began leading him back to the hill. Tall quickly moved into the barn, and grabbed the first saddle and bridle he saw. Walking out, he moved quickly and quietly among the horses. Of the four that were left, not counting the two they had ridden there, Tall judged a solid looking sorrel mare with a blaze face to be the best. After haltering her, he laid the saddle blanket and saddle over her back and walked out. He would finish saddling her when he joined up with Bart where they had left their bedrolls, rifles, and canteens.

After saddling their new mounts, they led them a short distance before mounting, and headed due south.

Chapter Three

May 9, 1865

Northwest Arkansas

Tall figured they had crossed over into Arkansas two or three hours before daylight. They had happened onto a farm not long after sun up. Bart had smelled bacon just before Tall did, and they decided since they were back in friendly country, considering their uniforms, it wouldn’t hurt to approach the place.

A tall, gaunt looking man was coming out of a ramshackle barn carrying a bucket of milk as they rode into the yard. He paused for a moment, looking them over, and then called to them. Get down. If you’re hungry, I expect we can handle two more mouths for breakfast. The missus can slice more bacon, and there’s a fair sized pan of grits.

Sounds good to us, sir, said Tall. We’d be happy to work it off. That’s fair enough with us.

No need for that. I ‘spect we’ll be seein’ a passel of you boys passin’ through here. If I put all of you to work, there wouldn’t be anything for me to do around this place. The missus might just up and decide she don’t need me around, and run me off. With that, he flashed a wide grin that showed a lot more gum than teeth. Tobacco juice had formed a line from one corner of his mouth, all the way down to the end of his pointed chin.

Bart and Tall dismounted and loosened their saddles before following the man to the back door of the cabin. Opening the door, the man called to this wife. Fanny, we got company for breakfast. Two soldier boys, goin’ home, I ‘spect.

Wiping her hands on a well worn apron, the small, white haired woman came forward and shook their hands. Welcome, boys. We don’t have much, but we’d admire to share with you. Our two boys were soldiers, too.

As they ate the best meal they’d had in a long time, Silas Higgins proceeded to bring them up to date on all the happenings that