Chapter 10: Mayhem

Reuben was surprised to see his friend James Mongomery brushing past the crowd gathered in front of the Barnes General Store, which served as the Post Office and Polling Place for the brand-new hamlet of Sugar Mound. Had Mongomery changed his mind about boycotting the vote on the Lecompton Constitution, he wondered.

Election day was a time for people to gather. It was both a social and political event.  Old and new friends exchanged information and shared their views. Much of the crowd fell into the category of new friends. There had been a surge in immigration to Kansas the year before. Most of the new settlers were, like Reuben, men from the Midwest with Free-State sympathies. Kansas had changed, or had it?

As the men mingled a commotion erupted  inside the building. Presently, Montgomery emerged, carrying the wooden ballot box in his arms. He held it aloft for all to see.

“Freemen of Linn! I have defended your rights in the past time, and I am here to defend your rights today!”

Some of the men nodded in approval. Others were confused. What was Montgomery up to?

Then he smashed the box on the ground and shouted, “Freemen of Linn, I right you!”

The astonished crowd of voters reacted in horror as Montgomery began stomping the ballots into the mud.

“Stop!”

“What are you doing?”

Reuben couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He and most of the men in the crowd had just voted against the Lecompton Constitution. With the pro-slavery Kansans boycotting the election, the Lecompton Constitution was bound to be rejected. That would allow the Free-State faction to write their own constitution banning slavery. They were now the clear majority and could pick their own leaders. They controlled the legislature and most local offices. Knowing this, Reuben began to wonder if Montgomery had gone mad.

A half dozen men stepped forward to restrain the angry abolitionist. He continued kicking furiously as they dragged him off. Most of the ballots were ruined. It was too late to re-run the election. Many of the early voters had left.

Luckily, for history, the rest of Kansas had just voted overwhelmingly to reject the Lecompton Constitution. Despite these definitive results, that rejected document would ultimately be submitted to President Buchanan and Congress for consideration. There it would find plenty of opposition. Even Stephen Douglas, author of the Kansas-Nebraska Act, would oppose it.

Meanwhile, it was evident that James Montgomery had crossed the line. He had blatantly disrupted one of the first free and fair elections in the territory of Kansas. And there were witnesses. Lots of witnesses. Montgomery would soon be indicted for his crime. It was ironic that this was the only indictment he ever faced. None of his raids and thefts ever resulted in criminal charges. He could literally get away with murder. Meanwhile, life went on in Kansas.

That spring, the DeLays improved their property. Reuben broke more of the rich virgin soil. New calves and piglets were born. The chicken flock continued to grow. Under Margaret’s talented hand, the cabin became a home. All of Kansas seemed to be prospering. For now, the Border War was over.

By April, Margaret’s time for birthing their first child had come. Reuben had arranged for a near neighbor, Mrs. Wilson, to help care for her when the time came. She was there when Margaret’s labor began.

“Do I need to fetch Doc Smythe?”

“You better,” said Mrs. Wilson as she ran a damp cloth over Margaret’s forehead.

Reuben kissed Margaret and squeezed her hand. “I’ll be back shortly.”

When he returned to the cabin with the Doctor, Mrs. Wilson met him at the door.

“Come meet your daughter,” she beamed.

Inside, an exhausted Margaret was cradling their newborn in her arms.

“She’s perfect,” she said, looking down at the baby.

Doc Smythe stepped forward and checked the patient and baby. His examination complete, he handed the little red cherubin to Reuben.

“She is beautiful! What shall we name her?” Reuben asked, holding the baby close.

“How about naming her Harriet after your mother?”

“Mother would like that, but we need another name to call her. I’ve always liked Rosellen.”

“So, Harriet Rosellen DeLay?”

“I like that.”

The birth of their first child brought great joy into their tiny Kansas cabin. Unfortunately, events far from the young couple’s control continued to shape their lives and the destiny of Kansas. Before long Montgomery was planning another raid.

“I’ll be damned if I’ll let you go galivanting off on another raid with that James Montgomery!” Margaret fumed. “He’ll bring us nothing but trouble. The war is over. Why stir things up?”

“Those Bushwhackers from Bourbon County tried to invade us last year. Montgomery wants to teach them a lesson.”

“That was last year dammit! We now control the legislature, the courts, and the law. Why not let them handle those scalawags?”

“I suppose that’s true,” Rueben conceded. “There has been a lot of an eye for an eye. Besides, the Army is back in force at Fort Scott.”

“I implore you, don’t go!”

“Don’t worry. I’m gonna’ sit this one out.”

It was good that Reuben skipped the raid on Fort Scott. The day after the raid, one of the men from Montgomery’s Sugar Creek Company stopped by the DeLay cabin.

“You OK?” asked Reuben.

“Nope. We made a big mistake trying to raid Bourbon County yesterday.”

“How so?”

“Well, we were advising some Bourbon County men up on the Marmaton River to leave the area when word got back to Fort Scott. The Deputy US Marshal met us with twenty dragoons. We retreated to a stand of timber where we figured we could hold them off with our Sharps. We turned and fired a volley when they got in range. I saw a few horses and one man fall. This morning, the word came that the wounded soldier had up and died.”

“You killed a US Dragoon?”

“’fraid so. If they find out who did it, we’ll all hang.”

Margaret broke in, “Good Lord! They might grab anyone from the Sugar Creek Company. I’m the only one who can swear Reuben was here with me yesterday. What if they don’t believe me?”

“Don’t worry, dear. They’d have to have a witness to say they saw me on the raid.”

“Witness? You know how those damn Bushwhackers lie!”

“Well,“ Reuben interjected. “I have to say I’m disappointed. I never regarded Montgomery as a killer. I’ve told plenty of folks he wasn’t the one that killed that slave-hunter, even though lots of people accused him of it.”

“I don’t know if he killed that slave-hunter or not,” said the visitor. “I do know he wrote the man’s death off with a quote from Exodus. “And he that steeleth a man, and selleth him, or if he be found in his hand, he shall surely be put to death.”[1]

Reuben gulped. Killing in the name of the Lord was still killing.

After the man left, Margaret was furious. “Montgomery is nothing but trouble! I forbid you to have anything to do with that vindictive, self-righteous man! He will get you hung!”

Reuben nodded sullenly and said, “I won’t.” It was a promise that would be hard to keep.

The event that spurred Reuben to return to the warpath came on May 19, 1857. Margaret was doing her household chores when she heard horse hooves rapidly approaching the cabin. She stepped out of the door to see a man reining his mount to a stop.

“Where’s your husband?” he asked excitedly.

“Over there,” said Margaret, pointing to the field where Reuben was planting corn. “What is going on?”

“There’s trouble near Trading Post. Gather up some emergency supplies and head for Mound City!”

That wasn’t what she wanted to hear. She was still recovering from her daughter’s birth and was not eager to travel with the new baby. She held her breath for a second as the man wheeled his horse around and raced off toward the field. Then she went back into the house and hurriedlygathered a few clothes and personal items for the trip. She had no idea how long they would be gone.

Reuben entered the cabin a few minutes later and grabbed his weapons.

“Are you going to tell me what is happening?”

There is trouble on the border by Chouteau’s Trading Post. Men have been shot. Everyone is evacuating to Mound City. After the women and children are safe, we’ll figure out what to do.”

“You’re going after them, aren’t you?”

“Probably. The only way we stay safe is to stop those damn Bushwhackers.”

An hour later, they were in Mound City, where people were pouring in from all directions. Those coming from the border area were particularly excited. Women were sobbing. Children wailed. Grim men swore. It took a while to sort out the story as more witnesses arrived.

“It was Charles Hamilton and about 30 Missouri Ruffians.”

That name sounded familiar to Reuben. He was one of the more rabid pro-slavery men that Montgomery had expelled from the county.

“They went from farm to farm gathering up those they thought were free-state men. Took about a dozen of them to a ravine and shot them down in cold blood. Some of them survived.”

“The place is called Marais des Cygnes.[2] They killed Bill Stilwell.”

People groaned. William Stilwell was a local farmer, known and respected by all around Sugar Mound.

Then an eyewitness, Asa Hall, arrived. The attackers had missed him with their first volley. He purposely dropped with the wounded and dying men and played possum. When two of the assassins came down into the ravine to administer the coup de gras, they assumed he was dead as they searched him for valuables.

“Tell us what happened.”

“They caught us off guard and rounded us up one by one. After a while, they let the old men and boys go. They let one feller go because he was wearing a Masonic ring. Then they herded us into a cut and made us stand in line. It was Hamilton hisself that gave the order to make ready and take aim. The rest of them seemed a bit skittish. One of them turned his horse away and said he wanted nothing to do with such a God-damned piece of business.  As he waited to be shot, Hairgrove said, ‘Gentlemen, if you are going to shoot us, take good aim.’ Then Hamilton pulled out his revolver and started firing. The others all joined in. Afterward, a couple of them dismounted and shot the wounded. I don’t know how I kept from shakin’ while I was trying to look dead.”

“So, which way did they go?” asked Sheriff McDaniel.

“Not sure. Before they shot us, I heard them say they had a list. That probably means they were after more free-soilers.”

The Sheriff and Colonel Mitchell began organizing a posse. Montgomery, who had been away, soon joined them. After making sure Margaret was taken care of by the rear guard and the good women of Linn County, Reuben accompanied the posse. By dusk, they were headed east toward the massacre site. Arriving, they found the area deserted by friend and foe. Hamilton and his murdering posse must have fled to Missouri.

They rode all night to West Point, where Hamilton was known to hang out. Halting the men at dawn, Sheriff McDaniel sent a small group of men into town to confer with the townspeople.

“That’s a mistake!” insisted Montgomery. “They’ll be warned and slip out of town.”

McDaniel refused to change his plan but ordered a few men to cover the other road leading out of town. As the advance group was conferring with the townsmen, several men were seen leaving town. Montgomery gave chase, catching but one straggler. After interrogating the man, nothing incriminating was found. They turned him loose. Later, they learned Hamilton was on his way back to his home state of Georgia. It would be five years before a lone member of the raiding party was caught, tried, and hanged.

The news of the Marais des Cygne Massacre spread like wildfire throughout the nation. Even Southern papers condemned it. Whittier wrote a poem which included these lines:

The foul human vultures
            Have feasted and fled;
          The wolves of the Border
            Have crept from the dead.[3]

Kansas was once again in crisis. Strong leadership was needed to right its course and restore peace. That leadership came with James W. Denver, the fifth territorial governor in the four-year existence of the territory. Denver assumed his duties as governor with some reluctance. On January 4, 1858, he wrote his wife, “If they will only let me turn over the government to some of them in four or five weeks I will give them a pledge never to put my foot inside of their Territory again. Confound the place it seems to have been cursed of God and man.”

Despite his reservations, he became an able administrator who could keep the disparate factions in Kansas politics from waging open war on each other. One day in June, Margaret was reading the Lawrence Herald of Freedom while the baby slept.

“This article is about Governor Denver’s Fort Scott truce. Will it hold?” she asked her husband.

“I hate to see Hamilton and Clarke get away with their murdering an pillaging, but I guess I can live with it if the trouble ends. Montgomery sees it as offering all of us an amnesty.”

“Well, here’s what the Governor said, he’ll withdraw the troops from Fort Scott and put them on the border with Missouri. Elections for new officers will be held in Bourbon County. Old arrest warrants will be cancelled unless they can be properly authenticated. The militias of both sides will be disbanded.”

“That is what we wanted. Now that we have a majority of voters, the elections will give us better men in office. Montgomery has promised to lay down his arms and disband our little Sugar Creek Company. If the Ruffians don’t hold to their end of the bargain, we can always take to the field again.”

“God, I want peace. A war zone is no place for little Rosellen to grow up in. I am ready to pack us up and leave if there is any more trouble.”

“If the other side keeps the agreement, we will have peace.”

The peace did hold through the summer of 1858. Everyone was too busy with the abundant crops in their fields to care about fighting. With everyone tending, not burning, the crops, Kansas became a land of plenty. Confidence in the future was buoyed. More Free-State settlers poured in. Land prices soared. In August, Kansas was finally rid of the hated George Washington Clarke. Instead of firing the Bushwhacker who masqueraded as the government land agent, President Buchanan appointed him Purser of the Navy. US Army troops escorted him safely to the Missouri border. Kansas was a safer, better place without him.

The main threat to peace in Linn County in Linn County was the arrival of the notorious abolitionist, John Brown. He came riding in on a tall, strong chestnut horse, gazing warily about for any sign of his enemies. He settled on Sugar Creek under the pseudonym Sibel Morgan. He planned to punish the pro-slavery faction by robbing them and taking their slaves. He was no stranger to violence. He had murdered five men at  Pottawatomie in 1856. At first, Brown was made welcome by James Montgomery. Later, they would clash over Brown’s tendencies toward reckless violence. Montgomery told the Sugar Creek men that Brown kept his own counsel and he would not be responsible for any trouble Brown brought down on Linn County. Fortunately for the maintenance of the peace, Brown took ill and was unable to pursue his violent intentions. The fragile peace held into the fall. Then all hell broke loose again.

For the DeLay family, the peace ended one dark September night. Margaret was up late with their colicky baby. Hearing a noise, she peeked out of one of the gun slits in the wall.

“Reuben! Someone with a torch is out by the corral!”

Reuben rolled out of bed, grabbed his revolver, and made for the door in his drawers. Outside, he saw a couple of men shooing the horses out of the open gate. He immediately began firing. There were three measured shots to scare off the intruders and summon help. It worked. The men abandoned their task and raced for their horses. They were gone in seconds.

Then Reuben noticed the fire. They had torched his little barn. The hay inside was burning fiercely. There was no saving it. He went inside, threw on some clothes, and went after the horses. By the time help arrived, he had them back in the corral, and the barn was a smoldering ruin.

“Did you see them?” queried his neighbor, Saul Barnes.

“Nope. It was too dark. Couldn’t tell if it was Border Ruffians or those robbers from Bourbon County.”

“I hear them buggers from Fort Scott have been itching to start pilfering again. After Denver negotiated the truce, they lost their means to get money for drinking and gambling.”

“That is the last straw!” shouted Margaret. “Tomorrow, the baby and I are off to Iowa. Papa says we can come home any time. This is no place to raise a child, let alone two!”

That was news to Reuben. It was the first he had known they were expecting again.

“But dear, the place is just starting to pay off. Another year and we’ll be in the black.”

“I don’t care. I can’t stand another day in this wretched place. If the bandits don’t ruin you, the grasshoppers will.”

Reuben knew there was no changing her mind. He’d have to send her home while he sold the place and closed out his affairs. His sojourn in Kansas had been a failure.

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[1] Exodus 21:16

[2] Pronounced MAIR de ZEEN. It means Marsh of the Swans in French.

[3] John Greenleaf Whittier. Le Marais Du Cygne. (1858)

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