Original Work The Stuarts of Texas

The Stage driver and the two shotgun guards waited for the fresh horses to be hitched up, spending their time drinking coffee and looking about nervously. This was a bigger payroll and bank delivery than normal and they were worried that someone might have let word slip out. Drunk tongues were always loose, and a threat. The second shotgun guard was a quieter type and spoke very little, but he was known as a competent shot and solid man when under pressure. Being almost opposite what the regular guard was.

The first guard was pure white trash, scooped up from the slums of New York City and forced into the union infantry. He had become very proficient at avoiding combat duty, and had ended up pulling a lot of guard, and KP duties. Roger Smith’s sole redeeming quality was that he was an insufferable tyrant to anyone lower on the food chain than himself. That made him prefect for occupation service in the defeated Confederacy as he enthuseastically applied himself in the draconian policy of making the South suffer as much as possible, when ever and where ever the opportunity arose. He was proud of his depredations, and had he been semi literate, would have written home to his prostitute mother of his adventures as he called them. Rape, robbery, and harassing crippled Southern soldiers were his favorite past times, and had no shame concerning his activities. But then, neither did most of the union soldiers. Few and far between were the decent men.

The hitching process completed, the civilian passengers loaded up and the stage pulled out headed toward Crockett, Texas and a local bank there. Smith and the new man sat atop the stage, the second one alert for human danger, and Smith sat with a vicious smile, alert for another dog or horse to shoot. Cows were good too as he knew the whole family would suffer from lack of dairy products. The local commander made him pay for the extra ammo expended for his hobby, but he didn’t mind, it was all good.

Dave pulled the tree to a small bend in the road where it would be out of sight until the stage was almost right on top of it. This would leave a grinding halt as the only option. Al had been placed behind a small hump on the slight rise on the other side of the road. This would allow him some cover he could drop down behind if needed. He was armed with the double barrel 12 Ga, and an old flintlock .45 caliber rifle that was in excellent condition. Having learned to shoot with his grandfather’s similar rifle, Al had become very proficient in its use and could fire two accurate shots per minute. Several deer had fallen to this combo during their trip to Texas. Al calmly waited in position figuring this would be payback for the family farm he had lost because of the union army.


Dave took up position behind a tree that would allow him to watch the road, then when needed he could move under complete cover to his firing position once the stage had stopped. He did not have long to wait as he heard the coach rattling down the road before it came into view. Dave ducked down and moved to his firing position and saw Al looking for the top of his hidden position. Dave used his index and middle finger to point to his eyes then pointed down the road toward the approaching coach. Al nodded, and stood up behind the tree he would fight from if there were resistance of an escort. Only the twin barrels of the shotgun would be exposed to view, and both men donned their masks.

The six trotting horses came into view, and then two seconds later the driver saw the tree across the road and hauled back on the reins, and applied the brake and the stage came to a halt just short of the trees. The guards went to high alert, scanning both sides of the road and seeing nothing relaxed after a moment. The driver shook his head in disgust. “This is the fifth time some redneck blocked the road as a joke just because he can. Cmon boys, lets get this outa the way so we can git moving.” Said the driver. Smith being too lazy to dismount, said “Let the new boy help you, I’m lead guard and need to keep watch just in case. No point in me doing any slave labor.”

The new man gave him a look of disgust, then slung his shotgun over his shoulder and climbed down to help the driver.

 

Glad you're back! Just in time too, because next month will begin the 160th Anniversary of the Confederate surrenders. I won't be taking part, because like John Wayne's character in "The Searchers", I don't believe in them! However, 6 SHOTS A MINUTE WITH A FLINTLOCK?! Two maybe, three would be near impossible!

 

Thanks for the correction. My knowledge of BP arms is limited and it shows. Corrections will be made.


Jim

 

The men each grabbed a part of the tree and began dragging it toward David’s side of the road just as Dave stepped out from behind the tree and shouted, “Hands up!”, and leveled his rifle at Smith on top of the coach. The surprised men on the ground froze momentarily but the guard recovering first, started to bring up his shotgun on David. David shifted his aim to the guard and said, “I wouldn’t, now drop that scattergun and kick it over to the side of the road. Both of you toss them Colts over there with the scattergun, and be quick about it!” Ordered David. Both men did as they were told, and were then ordered to stand over by the coach to make things easier. Smith had almost talked himself into firing at Glass when Al’s voice came from his hidden position. “Drop it now, or I’ll drop you!” Smith reluctantly obeyed and started to climb down when he was ordered to remain seated on top of the coach.

“Ok now, I want all the passengers to dismount the coach with your hands held high. Don’t try anything, cause playing the hero will get you shot mighty fast!”, said Dave in a loud voice. All six of the terrified passengers began to climb down and lined up by the stage. One woman began to sob violently wailing how they were all going to be robbed and murdered. Used to living around frontier women that were tough, resilient , and able to hold their own shooting against raiding Comanches, Dave was disgusted. Shaking his head, he forced everyone to state their names and where they were headed and why.

Finding that everyone save one older gentleman were Northerners, and he was from Virginia, David asked his business in Texas. He was traveling to Waco where his brother lived, and that he was to help the brother run a hotel and diner.

“I’m not robbing any of the passengers, I only want the payroll. Hey worthless, pitch the payroll box down here and be quick about it, we don’t have all day!” Smith gave him a surly look and began to move slowly in silent protest, the baggage aside and finally dragged the strong box out, leaving it on top the driver’s seat. “If you want it, then come up here and get it yourself!, said Smith. Smith had no idea what he was dealing with, until Dave raised his eyes up and stared at Smith. “I can put a .44 bullet thru your knee very easily from here, and I’m not gonna tell you again to toss down the strong box.” Smith was scared, but his eyes darted to the shotgun he had laid on the coach top. Dave noted this without giving any hint that he was aware. Then Smith gave the box a hard shove with his foot toward Glass and went for the shotgun. David jumped out of the way and was bringing the Henry to bear on Smith when Al’s shotgun roared and Smith was knocked off the stage top. This started all the passengers screaming and falling over each other in a panic except the Virginian. He just smiled and stood his ground with hands raised. It took David a few moments to get the passengers calmed down, then he shot the lock off the strong Box and removed the bags of paper currency. One of the men spat on the ground and looked David in the eye. “You are nothing but a common thief, just like all the other Rebels I’ve met!” David laughed and said. “This is an act of war, I never surrendered and never took an oath of allegiance to your tyrant nation. I’ll be at war with you cowardly dogs for years to come. You will be paid in full for your criminal acts, and you can take that to the bank. And if I’m just a common thief, why didn’t I rob you civilians in addition to the payroll coach?”

“Hey old timer, come on down here and help me load up the loot.”, David called to Al without using his name. Al moved down and began to load the money into the saddle bags. “Looks like we made a good haul youngun!” Quipped All in repayment for being called an old timer. “Yes we did! Now, if you would kindly move our mounts up here so we can load up and be on our way everything should work out right.

Al returned with the mustang and mule, then fastened the saddle bags onto the saddles. “What now?” He asked.

“We will need to unhook their horses from the stage, so they can’t immediately head to town and report us. Every minute they are delayed, is two minutes in our favor.” Al completed the task then spooked the horses back toward where they had came from. “That ought to hold ‘em for a while” said Al.

“Yup, and I’m gonna hold them longer than that!” Removing one of the kerosine lamps from the side of the coach and then the grease bucket, David mounted up. “Something just occurred to me. If we burn both those bridges between here and Crockett, that will further delay the coach and maybe the cavalry from town. I’m going to light ‘em up and then come back here for you.”

“Well git with it, cause I feel pretty nervous standing here.”, snapped Al.

David took off at a gallop to complete his self appointed chore.

 

Col. Stuart sat slouched in his leather bound easy chair and stared into the fireplace. The meager fire was more for lighting than warmth, and his wife had cooked their meager meal on it lass than a hour previously. His wife Samantha and his four children- three boys and one girl- sat silently watching the Colonel while he hashed out the available options in his mind. He had gotten bad news that the new Carpetbagger government wanted his plantation and was bound to get it by whatever means necessary. He had found out about this from a childhood friend that worked in the tax office. Even if he paid the exorbitant new taxes being charged, he would still be turned out. This was insult added to injury as Samantha had kept up with all property taxes during his absence, paying with gold from their hidden fortune, half of which had been depleted due to economic necessity caused by the war. He had to do something, as too many souls depended on his good judgement and decisions. Adding to his stress was the fact that payments in gold had the greedy Yankees nosing around and it was only a matter of time before they tried something.

Col. Stuart not only had to deal with providing for his family, but also his employees and former indentured servants. Thirty two people in total. The Col. smiled inwardly thinking of how disappointed the union army had been at not finding any negro slaves to free. The only Blacks on the property were freemen working for the same wages as everyone else. The indentured servants were a mixture of Scottish and Irish who had been kidnapped as children and sold as slaves by the Arabs. The Stuarts had made it a habit to rescue as many of these children as possible to eventually get them back to their families. Sadly, some were so young that they were of little to no help in finding their proper homes. The Stuarts had made it their business to at least see that these youngsters had an education and knew a trade so they could live a better life than would have been possible otherwise. The few girls that were acquired, worked in the mansion, and were equally educated. Some became seamstresses, and a few became bookkeepers. All, were helped in the matter of finding a suitable husband and given a proper wedding. A goodly portion of the indentured servants adopted the Stuart name out of respect and gratitude to the family. All were given money when they left the plantation to help them during their entry to a responsible life. All this was possible because the Stuarts did not make their living off the plantation, but in shipping and banking.

With the sinister interest of the carpetbaggers in his financial situation, Col. Stuart knew he had to make the proper move soon. Waiting too long or making the wrong move would probably end in disaster. Backed by the local union commander who dispised Southerners, practically anything could happen where the carpetbaggers were concerned. There had already been several rapes of local women by federal soldiers along with thefts, wanton beatings, robberies, and senseless destruction of civilian property with no hope of justice or reprieve from the tyrants currently in charge. He had to do something and soon. Looking over at his thin worried wife and big eyed children Stuart felt a sadness and pain that was almost overwhelming. He had to move, he had to do something. Once again the words of his former Sgt.Maj came to mind. If things got to bad, he could come to Texas. He could even move out to one of the west coast states and start over. Most of his money had been moved over to France and was out of reach of the federal authorities. Even with just the money he had hidden in a brick wall, there was more than enough to relocate. He made up his mind.

Turning to Samantha, he said. “Things here are out of control, and dangerous for us. We will leave here, and go to another place which I shall not mention for the time being. This move must be made in secrecy as much as possible. It will be almost impossible to hide what we are up to, but we will try our best. Things will be done quietly and in seclusion so as to not draw any attention from the current authorities if at all possible.”

 

The way to do this thought Stuart was to let no one know the whole part of his planned move, just their small part and they must be sworn to secrecy, and pledged not to discuss what what they knew or did even with family. The first order of business was to keep up appearances of business as usual. They must keep to their normal routine to keep the carpetbagger spies lulled into laxity. With that in mind Stuart called in his Foreman, who required a few minutes to leave the fields and come to the manor house.

“You called me Col.?”

“I did. Come up here Sam and sit in the shade, the way it’s warming up there’s no point getting overheated.”

Sam removed his hat and climbed the front steps to the house and sat in the rocker that Stuart motioned him to.

”That glass of tea is for you, so feel free to drink all you wish. What I called you up here for is that I want to change crops this year. No cotton, only corn, beans, field peas, and sweet potatoes in the fields. Our standard family garden will be planted as usual and Mrs. Stuart will oversee that. Can you think of anything else that we can do to keep ourselves fed and bring in a little cash?”

“Do you want Dent of Flint corn planted?”

“Flint, it will make better corn meal.”

“Yessir, and with your permission, we will plant beans and squash with the corn to increase yield and hold down on the labor. Also, seeds are in short supply all over, to get what we need, I will have to go outside of town.”

“I’d like to not draw any unneeded attention to our efforts. Do you have any sources we could deal with on the sly so to speak?”

“Yessir I do. There are several trust worthy people. The carpetbaggers have angered everyone around here with their blackguard actions. Even the neutral people don’t like them. Be that as it may, we will still need hard cash to purchase what we need.”

“Understood, get me as accurate an estimate as you can, and I will deal with it. You’re a good man Sam. If you come up with anything else let me know so I can make a decision.”

“I will sir, and if you’ll excuse me I need to get back and keep an eye on that crew.” And with that, Sam strode down the steps and went around the corner of the building headed out to the back field.

The Col. waited a few moments and then called for his eldest son. “Andrew, come here for a word please.” The boy replied with a yessir and began trotting thru the house to the front porch. Upon arrival, he came to a stop in front of his father.

“Andrew, please take this tea glass to the kitchen, then get a fresh glass of tea and fetch it here. Then go to the barn and bring old Bart to me.”

“Yessir replied the boy as he departed on his errand.

 

Having received his summons, Bart removed the knife he was making for Andrew from the fire and placed it on the outer edge to keep it from completely cooling down, then washed his face hands with water from the fire bucket then turned in the direction of the front porch and began walking. Rounding the corner of the house Col. Stuart came into view and he motioned Bart toward the waiting chair and tea glass. “Looks like you’ve been working hard as usual” commented Stuart as Bart lowered himself into the chair and took a drink from the proffered glass.

“Well sir not too hard, we’re still short of iron but I did find enough to make that Bowie I’ve been promising young Andrew. That young man surely does like his knives.” Said Bart with a grin. “I’ve been thinking of checking with the Bluebelly furrier about getting some of the worn horse shoes so I can make some barstock then get the few horses we have left shod. It won’t make great shoes, but will be better than nothing. Lessen you might be able to purchase some iron in town”

“Things are tight, but this brings me to the subject I wish to discuss with you. You are an honest and loyal man Bart and what I need done must be accomplished with the utmost secrecy, and is not without some risk. You are under no obligation to accept this task, but if you do I will require your word of honor not to discuss this task with anyone, not even your wife.” Completed Stuart as he locked eyes with his longtime employee.

Bart hesitated only a couple of seconds before replying “I give you my word that I will never discuss any part of whatever it is you want me to do.”

Stuart smiled and said “Thank you Bart, this is very vital to the future of the Stuart family. I need you to use your contacts to covertly get the supplies on this list. You will have to use your imagination as to reasons these things are needed, and under no circumstances should any of this lead back to any of the Stuarts. “

Bart took the list and read the contents with a bewildered look on his face while Col. Stuart watched passively. “Col. this is a lot of stuff and I ain’t sure how well I can conceal the use of all this.”

“The things I underlined will be claimed as use by you and your family, some of these items will be cached along one of the westward roads and picked up as needed. A little later on, you will mention that you and your family are moving to Oregon as an excuse for all these items, especially if the Yankees question your actions or purchases.”

“Do you have the money to cover all of this cause it’s gonna be a good bit of cash”. replied Bart.

“I can get what we need for it, but you must be very careful and dole out money in a miserly fashion.”