The Abolitionist

Chapter 1

It was a bright, clear morning in the early spring of 1861 and Jed Harker, having shaken the dust of Arkansas from his feet, was riding north to Missouri. Things had not worked out as well for Harker as he might have hoped and he had determined to make a fresh start of it in the north. Everywhere he looked, there were signs of a growing siege mentality on the part of those living in the southern states and this went hand in hand with a mistrust and dislike of Yankees such as his self. It was this, as much as anything else which had impelled him to head north. Although very far from being an ardent abolitionist, Harker had seen enough of the institution of slavery over the last few years to convince him that it was not to his taste. The longer he lingered in the south, the more distasteful he found the manifestations of the system; men and women being treated as chattels and goods, rather than as fellow beings. Harker thought how glad he would be to leave such a sorry and unnatural state of affairs behind him.

     So bound up was Harker in his own thoughts, as he trotted the mare along a rocky defile which gradually opened out into a broad plain, that he did not take as much heed of his immediate surroundings as was usually the case. Had he been paying just a little more attention to the road ahead and the view on either side, then he would perhaps have noticed that somebody was about to fire on him. As it was, he had just caught sight of a wagon or cart standing by the side of the track, about a hundred yards ahead of him, when there came the crack of a rifle and a musket ball passed so close to his head that he heard it droning by like a hornet. He reined in and made no move which could be interpreted as being hostile. It was as plain as could be that somebody had the drop on him and all that he could do was bide his time and see what chanced next. What he could not, in his wildest imaginings, have expected to happen was what actually did next occur; a woman’s voice called out, confident and sharp, ‘Throw down any weapon you’re a carrying of, or ‘fore God I’ll kill you at once!’

     ‘I only got my pistol,’ Harker shouted back, ‘I set a store by it and I’d as soon as not dash it to the ground.’ As he bellowed these words, he peered over to where he supposed the woman was hiding, which was a stand of pines, surrounded by scrubby bushes. It was perhaps forty or fifty yards away. He couldn’t see anybody, but knew that whoever was hidden there could surely see him. That shot had been a mite too close for comfort.

     ‘You love that gun o’ your’n more’n your life, then just you carry on down that road and see where it gets you,’ came the reply, ‘Drop it or you’re dead.’

     Jed Harker was possessed of a powerful instinct for self-preservation which had served him well during the thirty two years of his life and he sensed that if he didn’t cooperate, then there would be no further parlaying. He would end up with an ounce of lead through his brains. Very slowly and carefully, he lifted the Navy Colt from where it was tucked casually into his belt and dropped it in the dirt.

     Harker had no idea what sort of woman might have been drawing down on him. He supposed that it might be some rough-looking cracker or the wife of a mountain-man. The person who emerged from the undergrowth though looked more like a school teacher. She walked towards him, with a rifle held at high port; ready for instant action. When she was close enough to speak without raising her voice, the woman, who was perhaps five years younger that Harker himself, said, ‘Your friends are dead and ‘less you do as you’re bid, you’re apt to fetch up the same way. You follow my meaning?’

     ‘Well now, I don’t rightly understand you,’ said Harker, ‘I’ve no friends hereabouts as I know of.  Happen you’ve mistook me for another?’

     There was silence, as the woman weighed Harker’s words. She was a hard one to read and it would not much have surprised him if this stranger had suddenly raised her gun and shot him down like a dog. She did nothing of the sort however, but said instead, ‘Not a half-hour since, five men rode down on us and there was shooting. Two of them was killed and so too was my friend, who lies over by yon wagon. Do you take oath and swear you had no part of this?’

     ‘Ma’am, I left Gordon’s Landing not three hours since. I was helping run the livery stable there ‘til the back-end of last week. Why I’d want to bushwhack you out here is somewhat of a mystery to me.’

     ‘You’re a Yankee?’

     ‘Then what? Yes, I’m from New York.’

     ‘I guess that lets you out of the cart then, for those as ambushed us was southrons through and through.’

     The woman bent down and picked up Harker’s pistol. Still holding her own weapon one-handed, but in a capable way, as though she could bring it up and fire quick enough should need arise; she reached up to where Harker sat astride his horse, offering him the pistol hilts first. She said, ‘You can go. Sorry for firing on you. I was spooked.’

      Harker smiled slightly and said, ‘Judging from your shooting, I wouldn’t have said you was spooked none. I’ll warrant you could’ve taken me down in a second, had you been minded to do so.’

     ‘That’s nothing to the purpose. The day’s wearing on and I’ve work to do, even if you’ve not.’

     ‘You got grit and that’s a fact,’ said Harker admiringly, ‘Still, maybe I can help. Not but that I don’t reckon as you can proceed well enough under your own steam. You’re bound for Missouri?’

     The young woman said nothing for a few seconds and Harker had the impression that two opposing impulses were contending for mastery in her breast. At length, she said, ‘Truth is, I got a difficulty. You know aught of wagonry?’

     ‘Like I said, I was helping run the livery stable over in Gordon’s Landing. I reckon I know more than the next man about wagons and stages. Why?’

     ‘In the flight from those villains as was chasing us, there’s some mischief been wrought to my wagon. Like as not, it’s a simple enough matter to remedy, but I’m blessed if I know what wants doing to it.’

     ‘You want I should take a look?’

     She shrugged. Jed Harker chuckled and said, ‘You’re a rare charmer and no mistake. You answer to any name or is that a secret?’

      ‘Tyler. Abigail Tyler.’

      ‘Which d’ye prefer as I should call you, Abigail or Miss Tyler?’

      ‘I don’t give a damn what you call me. You think you’re at a barn dance or some such, sweet-talking some silly little girl? If you can aid me with that wagon, I’ll be obliged. Otherwise, you can take yourself off.’

     Shocked to hear such language from a woman, Harker suffered the mare to walk on in the direction of the wagon. The woman walking at his side said nothing more and seeing as she’d made it pretty plain that she’d no use for idle chatter, he too remained silent.

     When they came nigh to the wagon, Harker dismounted and went over to see what the problem might be. He saw at once that there were two corpses lying nearby. He said to Abigail Tyler, ‘Afore I mix myself up in this affair, you mind telling me who these men are and how they died?’

     For a moment, she looked as though she was on the verge of telling him to go to the Devil, but it obvious that she needed his assistance if she were to be able to continue her journey. She said briefly, ‘This man is, was, my business partner. T’other’s one o’ them as attacked us. There was another killed, but his horse rode off with him. I shot him, and my partner, he shot this man here, before another of ‘em got him.’

    Harker went over to the wagon and looked to see what it might contain. All he could see were two stout crates and a couple of carpet bags. The canvas hood was folded up and stowed next to the other gear, turning what looked like a regular prairie schooner into an ordinary cart. He said, ‘What were they after? You got something valuable here?’

     ‘I reckon that’s my business,’ said the other shortly, ‘Can you help me get this moving or are you just going to stand there asking a lot of damn-fool questions?’

     ‘Your language is something else again, you know that?’

     When there was no answer, he looked under the wagon and saw at once what was amiss. The brake beam had jerked loose, probably from banging over a rock, and was jammed tight against the rear wheels. Abigail Tyler said, ‘Well, can you mend it?’’

     Harker straightened up and said, ‘If you’ve a hammer, I can. We’ll have to unload the whole wagon first.’

     ‘Unload it? Why?’

     By now, he’d had just about enough of this sharpness and said, ‘Because if you want my aid, then that’s what I’ll have done. I don’t aim for to push a loaded cart round. We’ll have to unhitch your oxen as well.’

     The woman looked around uneasily and said, ‘You know how long this is likely to take? Those as tried to rob us might return.’

     ‘How many were there?’

     ‘There were five, but two are dead.’

     ‘Which gives us three of them to us two, always assuming I consent to lend a hand. But why would they try again? What have you got here that’s worth so much to ‘em?’

     ‘You want to lend me a hand unhitching the oxen,’ said Abigail, ‘Then we can unload the cargo.’

     Together, the two of them undid the harness and then hobbled the oxen so that they could graze on the sparse, scrubby grass. Then Harker jumped up into the wagon, with a view to shifting the crates down. He found at once that they were too heavy for him to manage by himself. He said, ‘Lord a mercy, what’ve you got in these here boxes? Lead?’ Then a sudden thought came to him and he said, ‘Tell me it’s not gold? It surely weighs enough!’

      ‘Gold, nothing! It’s machine parts, if you must know. Push the crate over to the back and we can heave it down together.’

     Between the two of them, they succeeded in getting the crates unloaded from the wagon and fortunately, there was a hammer among the tools stored in the chest under the driver’s seat. It took Harker only fifteen minutes or so to loosen the brake-bar and so free the wheels. Just as he finished, Abigail Tyler came over and said, ‘Don’t like to alarm you, but we got company.’ She gestured to the open country, where three riders could be seen advancing down the road in their direction.

     ‘Would those be the same boys that you already had a run-in with?’ asked Harker.

     ‘Couldn’t swear to it, but I reckon so.’

      ‘Is there but the one rifle? I’m a fair to middling shot with a pistol, but that’s no good for long range work.’

       ‘Jake, the man I was travelling with, he’d a rifle. It’s laying yonder, beneath him. You want I should fetch it?’

      ‘If you ain’t too squeamish ‘bout touching a dead body, I reckon that’s a right smart scheme.’

      ‘Squeamish? Is that what you think o’ me?’ She marched over to one of the bodies, reached under it and produced a military carbine, which she took back to Harker, along with a cartridge pouch which she had detached from the dead man’s belt. Lord, thought Harker to himself, but you’re a cold-blooded one and no mistake.

      The riders had halted some half-mile off and looked as though they were minded to hold the road against anybody trying to make their way onwards, in the general direction of Missouri. Even at this distance, they had an air about them which put Jed Harker in mind of soldiers, rather than bandits. He couldn’t have said why he felt this, other than that he had himself been in the military for a spell and there was an indefinable something about those three riders. He turned to Abigail Tyler and said, ‘Time to stop fooling around. You want my help, you best tell me what’s afoot, or I swear to God I’m like to dig up and leave you. What’s going on?’

     ‘I’ve got something they want.’

     ‘I don’t know how slow you think I am, Miss Tyler, but I’d just about figured that out for my own self.’

     ‘Well then, those men are working for some politicians in Richmond. Away down in Virginia, you know.’

     Jed Harker glanced at the three riders, who were still immobile, like they might be posing for some statue, and said, ‘If so, then they’re a long way out of their jurisdiction. What authority can they have out here in Arkansas?’

     ‘It’s by way of being a long story, but these men aim to take what I have in this wagon and me too, unless I miss my guess.’ Seeing the look of horror which came into Harker’s eyes at the idea of a woman being snatched for carnal purposes, she laughed shortly and said, ‘They don’t want my body. They’re more interested in what’s in my head. We don’t have time to talk on that. Will you help me or no?’

     ‘Well I won’t desert you. Let’s hope those boys are open to reason.’

     It was typical of Jed Harker that he should have it in mind to reason, rather than to fight. He had had his fill of shooting and killing and since leaving the army, and always tried to find a way of solving difficulties which did not entail violence and bloodshed. He said, ‘What if we raised a flag o’ truce and tried to talk with them?’

     ‘Wouldn’t o’ thought it’d do a mort of good, but if you think it’s worth trying, then go ahead.’

     The experiment was however destined never to be essayed, for at that moment a musket ball struck the side of the wagon; not a foot from where Harker was resting his hand. He said, ‘The murderous rogues, they mean to kill us!’

     ‘So I calculated,’ said the woman imperturbably, ‘They’ve figured you and me are surplus to requirements.’

     Harker was already crouching down, behind the wagon. Abigail Tyler joined him. He said, what weapon do you have, Miss Tyler?’

     ‘Muzzle loader,’ she replied, reaching for the gun she had placed in the wagon while they had unloaded the crates. ‘You got Jake’s carbine and that’s a breech loader.’

    ‘To be sure,’ said Harker. He had slung the rifle carelessly on his back, with the strap across his chest when Abigail had handed it to him. Now he lifted it over his head and took the pouch from where he had placed it in the inside pocket of his jacket. It contained half a dozen glazed linen cartridges. He opened the breech and slipped one of the tubes of powder in and checked that the pellet primer was charged. Then he cocked the hammer and said to the woman, ‘They fired on me, which makes this my dispute, whatever it is you’re up to.’ He risked a peep over the top of the wagon and saw that the three riders were moving in slowly. The carbine could be sighted to half a quarter mile, but those men were half that distance; if that.

     ‘You know how to handle it?’ asked the woman dubiously, it’s only come out less than a year ago.’

     ‘It’s a Sharps. I used the model they made in fifty five. This ain’t all that different. You want to load and get ready to give fire? Or you want to gossip about my knowledge o’ weaponry?’

     From somewhere about her person, Abigail Tyler produced a power-horn and also a small pewter box from which she took a ball and cap. Then she loaded the long musket.’

      Harker said, ‘You’ve no wadding. Be sure not to let that thing droop or your ball will be running out.’

     ‘You tend to your own affairs, mister. We going to start this or what?’

     ‘I reckon,’ said Harker and stood up. He rested the barrel of the Sharps on the side of the wagon and took careful aim. The shot flew straight and true, taking the middle rider slap-bang in the chest. At almost the same moment, the woman fired as well. Her shot didn’t strike either of the other two riders, who began firing back at them; one with a pistol and the other with a carbine similar to the one which Harker was himself wielding.

     The fellow with the pistol could be disregarded at that range; it was the rifleman who would need to be taken down. All the advantage was with the defenders, who in the first place were firing from cover and in the second were on the ground, rather than horseback. Harker reached into the pouch for another cartridge, but as he opened the breech of the Sharps and popped it in, Abigail Tyler’s musket barked again, and Harker observed the pistoleer’s horse rear up and throw its rider. He held his fire to see what would happen next and was mightily pleased when the remaining rider turned tail and began cantering off in the direction from which he’d come. He was followed by the loping figure of the man who’d had his horse shot out from under him.

     Harker turned to the woman and said, ‘I’m damned if you didn’t reload that muzzle-loader faster than I could get another cartridge in this thing, if you’ll forgive the language.’

     She laughed, saying, ‘I grew up the only girl in a passel of boys. I could shoot and ride sooner than I could walk almost.’ Then she said, ‘I’m sorry if I was a bit rough. I’m really very grateful for your help.’

     ‘I don’t know but what you wouldn’t have managed well enough without my help. You strike me as one who knows how to take care of herself.’

     When the oxen were harnessed back to the wagon, and the crates stowed in it, there was no more reason to delay. Harker had been thinking and as he mounted up, he said, ‘You got anybody to meet you wherever you’re going?’

     ‘I hope to hitch up with somebody a little further north.’

     ‘Well then, I’ll ride along of you for a spell. Maybe you can favour me with some explanation of what this is all about. I reckon you owe me that at the least.’

     ‘That’s right good of you. I don’t mind that you gave me your name.’

     ‘It’s Harker. Jed Harker. Folks mostly call me Jed.’

     ‘Should we linger here? It may be as somebody heard the shooting.’

     ‘You’re right. Let’s make our way on. I’m guessing that you’re heading for Lovett? Leastways, there’s nothing else along this track, less’n you’re fixing to carry on straight to Missouri.’

    ‘No, you’re quite right. I’m on my way to Lovett. There’s somewhere there I need to take counsel with.’