Life Taker The Story of the Gun

By Daniel Carlson

This novel chronicles through the passages of time the events of the prestigious LeMat revolver and the fortunes of its ill-fated owners.

 

From the killing machines presentation to General Vandehoff in 1864, the story details bloody gruesome accounts of the LeMat's stewardship in the reckless hands of famous outlaws, murderers and gunslingers who menaced the barbaric west.  

• Language: English
• Publisher: Daniel Carlson
• Release date: Nov 3, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215808405

Book preview

Chapter 1

May 16th 1861

Drink up my dear brother, for tomorrow you will lead the Republic into glory and confine the Union to a fable in the pages of the history books. David Vandehoff smiled and raised his glass of bourbon in the direction of his older brother, General Harden Vandehoff. Then he toasted, To a speedy and sacrifice restricted resolution.

I do not share your optimism, Davy and I fear your confidence is misjudged. The general replied. A veteran of the Mexican war, Harden Vandehoff had served as a colonel in the battle of Palo Alto and his memories had been forever impacted and scarred by the horrors inflicted upon the battlefield.   

Nonsense Harden. Within months, you will have led the men of the South to a glorious victory and independence from the iron fist of the North. David’s plume was cast in a low tone due to the potency of his brother’s favourite bourbon which burnt the inner tissues of his throat as he swallowed the libation. 

I fear you underestimate the resources of the north. The general turned his against the extravagant ballroom to look out of the window and across the huge grounds of his plantation.

A city of canvas Sibley tents could be seen in the darkness and masses of silhouetted figures congregated around the many campfires.

There was no moon on this cloudy dull night to illuminate neither the grey uniforms nor the soldier’s enthusiastic faces.

The general failed to hear the polka being played to his rear as his thoughts became occupied with the impending slaughter of the young, the fiddle players, the cooks, the gamblers and the many other darkened figures of his army which had encamped themselves under the large majestic oak trees that lined his vast estate.

I admit the strength of the north is buoyed by their wealth, but they have a distinct weakness for leaders and fighting men. You know only too well all the best cadets at West Point were from the south.

Harden did not respond to his brother’s assumption.

Oh, Lincoln will soon be running back to Congress with his tail well and truly clipped. He is then sure to be ousted as the Union seeks an immediate reconciliation with the superior South. David paused but only to drain the remnants of his glass, that will be the end for the absurd plug hatter. It will be back to a lawyer’s office in the middle of nowhere for him before he knows it. You mark my words, Harden.

A black male servant approached and refilled David’s empty glass. Harden placed the flat of his hand across his glass to decline the refreshment, and the servant withdrew himself to an unlit corner of the large room.

David Vandehoff stepped forward and stood beside his brother at the window to admire the sprawling detachment. This conflict needs leaders like you, my brother, and you stand shoulder to shoulder alongside the best this army has to offer.

Again Harden did not reply. His face creased with the age induced lines of worry as he released an anxious smirk.

I’m envious of you, Harden. This time, David’s comment stirred a response.

This is not an army, Davy. It is a collection of hardy thieves, beggars, labourers, rustlers, scoundrels, gallows dodgers and malcontents from all walks of life.

Nevertheless with your patience, guidance and leadership, they will fight with all the venom of the South combined. They will bring you great victories. David smiled and again offered a small toast. Oh, I wish I had been issued a rank of your statute. He confessed.

You overestimate my importance, Davy. Harden now turned away from the window to scan across the ballroom.

At the far end of the large rectangle room, the double doors were now closed and the smell of the hot roast had dissipated as the fine dining had been devoured.

He knew behind the barrier his house servants were busily restoring order and clearing away the scraps from the remains of the lavish feast which had been organised by Clara Vandehoff, the plantation mistress, and the general’s wife.

The meal and ball had been carefully planned so the antebellum patriarchal society of the Mississippi could honour the local general and express their gratitude for leading their neighbours and their kin to victory against the enemy of the north, which had vowed to exterminate their livelihoods.

In front of the general, the majority of the assembled were adhering to the Southern etiquette and engaging in a waltz as the band played out the remaining notes of the Grand March.

Leading men to victory is to be envied.

Leading men to their death cuts deep on a man’s conscience, and many lives will be lost when we venture deep into the union's lair.   

Yes, Harden. Lives will be lost, but long lasting valour and dignity will be established.

You know Davy. The saddest thing to losing a battle is winning one.

The foreseen loss of lives burdened Harden’s joviality, and he was not enjoying the evening’s conviviality.

This country is a nation of brothers, all of whom believe they are fighting for the right causes. It is going to be a long struggle between intelligence and physical force. He said.

Oh, Harden. Stop being so melancholy and take my hand. Clara Vandehoff had noticed her husband’s poignancy, and she sought to lighten his mood, Come, Come, let’s dance.

She held out her arm in perfect timing with the band's opening salvo of ‘The Battle Cry of Freedom’. She stretched out and offered her small hand fully expecting her husband to comply with her request and fulfil his dutiful obligation in front of the esteemed audience.

To all round smiles, the couple stepped to the centre of the glossy wooden floor, paused briefly to attain the correct dancing posture, then smiled and unleashed themselves with perfectly timed swirls and steps.

General Harden Vandehoff looked every part the leader of men. He was tall with a straight long back and wide shoulders which filled his immaculate uniform perfectly. Flashes of grey near to his temples seemed to sparkle out from his neat black groomed pompadour as he twirled across the ballroom.  

Davy doesn’t mean to upset you. He is proud of you, that’s all and you should humour him.

He is an ignoramus lacking from all reality.

Please, Harden. Revel in tonight’s frivolities and leave the trepidation for the morning.

He smiled agreeably into his wife’s pale and unblemished face. She revelled in the adulation in which the local capitalists put upon her husband and this proudness was expressed in the radiance of charm, yet she openly displayed humility.

Standing less than five feet with her petite frame enveloped by a bottle green taffeta gown, Clara looked many years younger than her thirty five years of age.

Harden was conscious of his wife’s beauty and tonight as he stared deep into her jet coloured eyes he knew her elegance and warmth beamed throughout the whole ballroom and the eyes of the contingency were focused upon her and not him. He liked it this way. He could not match her southern allure and grace and he felt clumsy as he tried to match her careful dainty steps.

The music stopped and heads bowed, but the general's relief was short lived as the band burst straight into Darling Nellie Grey and Clara quickly took another firm grip of his hand to fling him straight into the new dance routine.

Albert Malloy does not know how to behave in a ballroom. Clara whispered into Harden’s ear as they watched him awkwardly bump from one couple to another.

No, my dear, he does not, but what’s truly important is that he knows how to behave on the field of battle. Harden replied, darting a welcoming glance of acknowledgement and a smile to his clumsy colonel.

Please do not let any harm come to young Holmes. Clara asked as they turned and faced an excitable young couple, I couldn’t bear to see Maisy wearing black before she’s had the chance to wear white.

Harden spun Clara around and out of everyone’s earshot. He whispered, I’ll reassign him as soon as we set pace.

Now assured, Clara relaxed and enjoyed the remainder of the dance, which to her disappointment was prematurely ended when David Vandehoff stood in front of the band and started to tap loudly on a glass decanter. The music slowly ceased and silence almost befell in the room.  

Ladies and gentlemen, friends and family of the south. He hailed. May I have your attention for one moment please. Tomorrow morning my brother, General Harden Vandehoff will lead out the great army of the Mississippi to confront our enemy, instant applause sounded, within weeks our loved ones will be upon the lands of the northern oppressors and in direct armed combat with Winfield Scott’s blue bellies.

Silence had now fully descended and concerning glances were flicked between the ladies, whilst looks noting excitable cravings for adventure mantled the faces of the men at their sides.

David clicked his thumb with his fingers and signalled a with nod to one of the male servants.

General Vandehoff, can you step forward, please? David held out his hand as an invitation. On behalf of the citizens of Lawrence County, I would like to present you with this special gift.

The servant handed David a highly polished wooden box.

To a very rare and special leader, may I present you with this truly unique gift to show our appreciation and gratitude. David said, handing the box to his smiling, but embarrassed, older brother. 

Applause resonated around the room again as Harden deliberately placed the heavy walnut box on a table in front of him. He bowed his head and nodded to acknowledge the recognition.

As the noise dimmed, the click of the lock could be heard as he raised the two brass retaining latches which secured the lid. Harden slid his hand carefully across the smooth dark case and slowly raised the lid. A bright reflection flashed and emblazed briefly on his gracious face as he raised the lid to reveal a silver plated LeMat revolver.

He maintained an arched position over the table as he gazed at the weapon of destruction. Everyone in the room remained silent as they watched him carefully raise the gun from the green baize mould. His nostrils filled with the scent of fresh walnut as he balanced the weight of the piece delicately across the flat of his hand. He lifted the gun closer to his eyes and he marvelled as he studied the elaborate floral engravings on the silver. He turned over the gun and lipped the numbers of the serial number ‘428’.

David watched his brother's face reveal his admiration for the weapon and he saw him mouth out the numbers.

428 is a very rare collectable. General Beauregard has 427 and our friend General Braxton Bragg has 429. David disclosed.

Harden finally raised his head to face the assembly. I do not know what to say. Seems a shame to take it out of the box.

Harden, this ain’t no ornament. She will serve you well. David asserted.

Indeed, she will. Harden replied as he read the engraved message inside the box lid.

‘To General Vandehoff. A husband, a dear friend and a leader of the south. With great appreciation, love, and respect. From the citizens of Lawrence County.’

I am too lost for words to express my gratitude for this splendid gift. He confessed with a hint of a glaze in his eyes. 

We can’t have a war without weapons so just whip arse those God darn Yankees and send fat old Winfield Scott hightailing it back to Washington. Someone shouted out as applause and laughter erupted.

And we can’t have a ball without music! Come! dance everyone! David shouted toward the band who responded by spontaneously bursting into the tune of Dixie.

October 22nd 1864

General Vandehoff’s gaze was fixed upon the sullen troops who gathered to warm around the multitude of campfires. Outside in the thick mud, his army had lost the fervent excitement of war as now visions of demise, disease, and hunger haunted their memories and the dissolute fighters from the south contemplated nothing but survival.

Yellow hue from candlelight exposed his weather beaten and war drained face. Deep lines of worry now furrowed on his forehead and creased his stubbled cheeks.

Piercing screams of death had long since replaced the music of the polka and the satisfying warmth of the ball had dimmed and faded into a long distant memory as now torrential cold rain unleashed its endless patter on the general’s sodden tent.

He was reflecting on the wanton loss of life, he shuddered, but not because of the cold night air, it was because he could still hear the wailing of pain echoing in his ears and he could see the mass of dead, bloodless faces of his young men. 

The past few years had been nothing, but hardship, desolation, and cruelty which he could never have imagined. Battles, skirmishes, advances, and retreats had now left deep ingrained scars of disappointment and horror which plagued his every thought.

He opened his battered travel chest and reached down to rummage through his belongings. His hand ran across the newly delivered knitted socks and vests which he had requested for the approaching winter and his fingers flicked the bundled edge of the letters from home before finally his hand settled upon his treasured LeMat.

Still, his mind was occupied with the wasted loss of lives, both the young and old, and he began to contemplate the fearful sunrise and the human slaughter that was planned for the arrival of the new dawn. He was disillusioned by the ease with which his men had sacrificed their lives without considering the consequences that were now laden upon, young widows, fatherless children, and wrecked parents.

His conscience was heavy with guilt as a result of his decisions and actions. Now he questioned his responsibilities and beliefs as he realised the years of annihilation seemed insignificant to his superiors as they pressed on issuing orders for relentless assaults in Missouri on both the Union army and innocent civilians who were not too long ago considered his fellow countrymen.

He wiped the damp cold barrel of the LeMat with his kerchief. The shine of yesteryear had waned and battle soot had replaced the shimmer. He spun the barrel and inserted fresh ammunition as he had no doubt that early the following day he would once again be using the notorious lifetaker. 

General Vandehoff organised his assembly as the morning sun rays bore through the low hanging dull clouds. The orders issued by his commander, Major General Sterling Price, were simple, a frontal attack on an exposed Union cannon line which was positioned on the banks of the Blue River.

Removal of the artillery would permit Major General Price to advance upon Kansas and continue with his extermination of the Union forces and federal sympathisers in Missouri.

Price’s mission was to capture the state for the South and now only the surrender of Kansas stood in his way.

Vandehoff had received intelligence from Price that the thirty cannons were inadequately defended, but they must be captured or destroyed because they were positioned to prevent the advancement of the Southern army. Leading a cavalry charge, Vandehoff would surprise and overrun the Union defenders before the cannons could be satisfactorily discharged.

Today Vandehoff’s rallying speech was to be short. He had delivered many and now the formality meant nothing to him or his troops other than a few insincere rousing words before being faced with impending butchery.

His eyes were narrow and veined but it was not due to excessive bourbon, sleep had evaded him. Not only had the many losses of life plagued him throughout the long night, he was also well aware his troops now lacked food, strength, and ammunition for a fight. They were exhausted, demoralised, and in no condition to engage with the well stocked army from the north.

"Today I will share your fate and battle for you as you have battled for me. I have a great deal to say but I will economise as in a few minutes we will encounter the enemy of the North who intends