Chapter 4: Squatter

Chapter 4:

Squatter

            Kablam!

            The man had jumped into the road from behind a bush. The first shot from his pistol was a warning, aimed over Reuben’s head. Now the gun was leveled at him. Before he could even think about grabbing the musket by his side, two more men emerged from the bushes on each side.

            “Don’t even think about it!” one of them growled swatting the gun out of Reuben’s reach. “Who are you and where are you from?”

            Reuben cursed himself for not following Montgomery’s advice. These men were probably the posse members he had been warned about. He would have to think fast.

            “I’m Reuben DeLay from up in Putnam County.”

            “Putnam County, Missourah?” queried his interrogator.

            “Yep,” Rueben answered nodding.

            “You know Sheriff Martin up theah?”

            Reuben sensed a trap. He had no idea who the sheriff of Putnam County was and he suspected the posse man didn’t know either.

            “Martin? You must be mistaken, Sir. The sheriff there is old Zach Brown. He’s been sheriff since I was a kid,” Reuben lied. “Man has a damn fine reputation for catching runaways. He has all but shut down that damn Underground through Iowa.”

            “I spose I could be mistaken,” grumbled the man. “You kinda sound like one of them Yankees though.”

            “We do talk a bit different in Putnam County than y’all do down on the river, Reuben conceded. We’re still sons of the great state of Missourah though,” Reuben said with pride in his newfound accent.

“What business you got in these parts?”

            “Like everyone else, I’m looking for some land. All the good tracts hereabouts seem to be taken though. Looks like I’m gonna have to look farther west.”

            “That feller there is fixin’ to quit his claim,” the man said pointing to the third posse member who had yet to speak. “If’n yer not one of them damn abolitionists, he might make ya a deal”

            Reuben set the brake and climbed down from the seat. He stuck out his hand as he approached the man with the land.

            “Good to meet you Sir. I’m Reuben DeLay,” he said. “Maybe we can do business.”

            “Tom Bayliss,” said the man extending his hand. “Pleased to meetcha.”

            “So where’s this land??

            “Right over theah,” was the response as the man pointed over his shoulder. “It’s a good place, but I don’t want to move my family here because of all the trouble that damn Montgomery and his cutthroats are causin;”

            “Who is Montgomery?”

            “That would be James Montgomery. He’s one of them Campbellite preachers who turned his back on the South. We burnt him out once. Instead of leavin’ he built a fort and organized a bunch of raiders. They hit my place the other night.”

            “Well, that’s too bad. I hope they didn’t do you much harm.”

            “They burnt mah cabin and ran off some of mah stock. I got off a couple of shots. I mighta’ hit one of them S.O.B.s.”

            “I sure would hate to take advantage of your troubles, but if you’re gonna sell, I’m interested. How many acres?”

            “Bout two hunnert. Good fer grazin’ an’ plowin’

            “Can I take a look?”

            “Sho nuff. These here fellers can stay and guard the entrance.”

            “Hop in,” Reuben said as he launched himself back into the wagon. “Can’t wait to see it. Mr. Bayliss.”

            Bayless pointed out the key features of his place as the team plodded along.

            “Got access to Sugar Creek over thar. Turned the sod to plant some corn on yon meadow. Corral is still in good shape,” he said as the wagon approached the smoking ruins of his cabin.”

            “I like what I see.”

            “If’n yer strong enough to hold it, it’ll be a good place fer ya. Just don’t let no more of them damn Yankees come into the valley.”

            “Are there any neighbors I can count on for help?”

            “Not many. The fellers helpin’ me guard the place are from Bourbon County. There’s still some good Missourah folks over by Trading Post. The county officials are all Southerners. Sometimes we get help from across the line. They come to vote on election day and help us keep the free-staters away from the polls. You didn’t hear it from me, but they’re plannin’ another raid against Montgomery and his abolitionist friends.”

            “Now, that sounds interesting. I will be careful who I hang with. It’s a damn shame you have to leave, but I understand. Is the land paid for?”

            “Nah, I filed the papers and figured I’d pay up when I got a few crops in.|

“By my calculations, you owe the government about $250 for the land. So, what is it you want for your claim?”

            “Forty Dollars oughta do it.”

            Reuben looked about thoughtfully. The improvements Bayliss had made didn’t amount to much. His cabin was gone and the wagon sitting by it was a wreck. There was little to justify the man’s demand for forty dollars.

            “Can we make a trade?”

Bayliss scratched his chin and thought for a moment. His eyes wandered as he visually inspected Reuben’s wagon.

“I need to be able to haul my belongins back to Arkansas. I’ll take you wagon and the two dray horses.”

Reuben countered with, “I need one of the horses for plowing. You can have the one on the left and I’ll swap my wagon for your broken one.”

Bayless grimaced and pretended to think a minute. “You drive a hard bargain, DeLay, but I’m gonna take it.”

Reuben dug into a trunk in the wagon and brought out his writing materials to make out the quit claim. Not being lawyers, the two men struggled over the wording.

“I, Tom Bayliss,  do hereby transfer the below-described claim on Sugar Creek to Reuben R. DeLay…..”

Once satisfied with the document, they returned to the main road where the two posse men witnessed their signatures. They spent the rest of the afternoon loading Bayliss’ possessions on the wagon.

Bayliss harnessed his saddle horse and the old plug Reuben had traded him to the wagon and headed down the trail. Neither man knew they would one day take opposite sides in a cataclysmic civil war.

As soon as Bayliss disappeared down the road, Reuben saddled his horse and made a detailed inspection tour of the land. He was pleased with what he saw. The grass was already tall and green. Sugar Creek was easily accessible to his animals. There was abundant timber along its banks. The field Bayliss had plowed showed promise of fertility.

He had brought a wagon load of basic farming tools from Iowa. He made a mental list of the other things he needed; seed, canned goods, coffee, and a few chickens. He had to find a wheelwright and some boards to fix his new wagon. Most of all, he needed a good revolver.

That evening he cut some poles and pitched his canvas shelter. Then he built a fire. It was time to write a letter home.

Dearest Margaret, he began.

We have a fine place now. It is in Linn County, about 80 miles south of Kansas City. The grass is lush and the creek flows freely. The soil is dark and fertile. We have plenty of wood to build our cabin. You will love the open air and the freshness of a Kansas morning. It will be the perfect place to start our family.

I made a good trade for the land. I got a man from Arkansas to quit his claim for one old horse and the wagon. The first two good years will pay off the $250 we still owe the government land office. I’ll build a cabin before you come next year.

The troubles in Kansas are not as bad as I had expected. I have met men on both sides and no one has shot me yet. The squatter I bought the claim from got run off by my free-state neighbors. They have banded together to support each other. If there’s any trouble, they have a signal to bring help. I expect the free-staters to prevail. This country isn’t suited to slavery and plantations.

I do miss you terribly. I remember the comfort of your sweet caress in my dreams. I can’t wait to make you mine and bring you to this good land. Do continue to keep me posted on the wedding plans. I hope Uncle Jacob can do the ceremony.

Give my love to your folks and mine. I’m sure I’ll have a few adventure stories to tell when I return this winter. (Some of them might even be true!)

                                                You loving man,

                                                Reuben

p.s. Could you check and tell me who the sheriff of Putnam County, Missouri is? I’ll explain later.

Main Menu: http://www.azrockdodger.com

INDEX: Unbowed: The Saga of a Civil War Cavalryman- https://azrockdodger.com/2025/02/06/unbowed-the-saga-of-a-civil-war-cavalryman-index/