CHAPTER XXIV
The Affair at Hempstead.
One Sunday morning Thorn and I rode into town, and met on the road going towards the river, eleven Federal soldiers. We thought nothing of it as they had never before crossed the river. Captain Thorn stopped at the place where his wife was boarding and I started across the square to where my little family were stopping. I noticed a group of our solid citizens armed, talking excitedly, and rode up and asked them the news, when they told me that a band of soldiers had raided the town the night before, committing a number of depredations and had threatened to burn Hempstead that night.
A committee of citizens, headed by the Mayor, Mr. Whitworth, had visited the camp that morning and complained to the commanding officer, Captain Lancaster, of the conduct of his men the night before and told him of their threat to burn Hempstead that night. They asked permission to organize a patrol to keep their town from being burned. He cursed them in answer and told them that he wanted every one of them to hunt their holes that night at eight o’clock and that he would have a patrol out to see that they did it.
Knowing the temper of the people, as I did, I suggested to them not to do anything rash, telling them that whatever was done without the authority of the powers that were would only bring greater trouble, and that we would be powerless to secure redress. I pleaded with them and cautioned them to submit, rather than to make matters worse, as in the case of Brenham.
I then proceeded to my wife’s place of residence and spent the balance of the day until about four o’clock in the evening. All during that day we heard wild rumors of the threats of the soldiers of what they were going to do that night and I decided it was best to take my wife and baby to the plantation and keep them out of trouble. About a mile from town I met one of our negro men, with his wife. His wife’s clothes were badly torn. He told me that eleven soldiers had been out to the place, robbed the house of several guns belonging to the negroes and one very fine gun belonging to Captain Thorn. They had tried to break into my storeroom, but had failed to get in. They had then gone to Buckhorn, about four or five miles west of us, where there was a store and postoffice, and he thought on their return, they would break into my store. I asked him where he was going. He said he was going into camp to report them. I told him not to do so, that they would nearly beat him to death for making such a report, but to go and see his Marse Tom and tell him what they had done and to tell him that I had gone on out and to come out immediately and to bring out a good lot of pistol ammunition. We both had pistols but no ammunition for them, never having any use for them, though it was the custom with most people to carry six-shooters.
My first impulse was to watch their return from Buckhorn and, on their approach, to go into the storeroom, well prepared with loaded guns, and resist any attempt on their part to break into the store.
I drove on out to the place, very much alarmed; fearing that I would meet these devils on their return to town, but fortunately, they had not returned that far. After crossing the river at the ferry, I drove through the open fields, where I could see clear up to the house, about a mile, and when I reached the house the negroes reported that they had already left there, for town, on the river road, through a piece of bottom.
I had promised my wife that I would do nothing in the matter and intended to make good this promise, but when the negroes told me of the soldiers’ doings in the negro quarters and at the house, I lost all control of myself, ushered my wife into the house, told her that I had to go down to the barn to see the mules fed, by way of an excuse to get away from her, went into the storeroom, got an only pistol, partly loaded, rushed to the barn without a saddle, jumped on my horse’s back and set out in pursuit of them.
Fortunately they had already crossed the river when I got to the ferry. There is no question but what I would have dashed in among them with only three shots in my pistol and would not now live to tell the tale.
At the ferry I met a young man by the name of Stevenson, a son of the owner of the place, and a young man by the name of Hartsfield, who had been acting as our overseer. Stevenson was armed and so was Hartsfield. I got some ammunition from the ferryman for my pistol, which I completed loading. When about ready to cross the river, Captain Thorn hailed for the boat, crossed and secured another pistol from the ferryman. Thorn was very much stirred up. In meeting them the leader of this gang had made him get off of his horse, get down on his knees and told him to say his prayers, but finally let him off. We then started in pursuit and when within about a mile of their camp we caught up with them. When they heard us coming they broke, their leader and several companions taking to trees, from which they fired upon us. In the mix-up they got the worst of the affair. Two were left dead on the field, while we miraculously escaped without a scratch.
Our first decision was to report the result to the commanding officer, but being admonished by the manner in which he had treated our citizens that morning, and also the history in the case of Brenham, we finally concluded we had better keep out of their clutches and not risk our lives in their hands.
A military satrap was the law of the land; there were no courts to appeal to, only the tender mercies of General Sheridan.
We immediately returned to the river. After crossing, I asked the party to hold the ferry until I could get my wife and baby to a friend’s house, about two miles distant. Hartsfield and Stevenson both refused and left, but Thorn, taking my pistol, in addition to the one he had, sat down by a tree and told me to take my time, that he would hold that ferryboat against the whole garrison.
I went to the house, took my wife and baby to a Mr. Waller Cochran’s, where they spent the night, and then I went back to relieve Captain Thorn. We then went to another friend’s house, where we were joined by our overseer, Hartsfield, and there spent the night. I instructed Mr. John D. Cochran, an old messmate, to go over to his brother’s place the next morning, get my wife and baby and either take them to Courtney to her sister’s home or bring them to Navasota, where we expected to meet them the next evening.
In crossing the ferry the next morning there were in the boat with them twelve men in command of a lieutenant, heavily armed, who had been out to the place, searching for us. My wife heard them make their threats that if they caught up with Thorn or Graber that they had orders to shoot them down without benefit of a court martial.
After spending that night at a friend’s house, we three started for Navasota, on the west side of the river, Stevenson having left us at the ferry the day before. I have never seen him since. We crossed the river at Old Washington and arrived at Navasota in the evening, where I met my wife, who was taken to a Mr. Felder’s house.
Our arrival at Navasota created great excitement. We were visited by many of the best citizens of the town, some of whom begged us to stay. They just wanted a chance at them, when they came after us, but I told them no, that our case was bad enough and that it would only result in involving our friends without accomplishing anything, which I was determined not to do. I therefore arranged to leave next morning for Waxahachie, where I was well acquainted, having spent two years of my boyhood there.
After a day’s reflection we just began to realize our condition. Outlawed by the powers that were, everything that we had in the world lost, confiscated, dependent altogether on what financial aid and assistance we might accept; and, although we had abundant aid offered us, it only made us more desperate. We felt that our fate was sealed, though we had not a moment’s thought of regret; we felt that we had done right, that we could not have done otherwise and were simply the victims of conditions existing.
I parted with my wife next morning, never expecting to see her again, telling her whenever she heard of my being in their hands, it would be my dead body; I would never surrender.
We now started on our trip to Waxahachie, without incident, stopping at houses at night, without disclosing our identity, giving fictitious names. When we reached Spring Hill we found a Mr. George H. Porter of Houston, an old army acquaintance of Thorn’s, who was out collecting for T. W. House of Houston. We also found a Federal quartermaster from Waco, out buying horses for the troops stationed at that point. Now, my friend, Thorn, had got to drinking very hard, getting more desperate every day and conceived the idea to hold up this quartermaster and make him give us his money. I spurned the idea, telling Thorn that he could not do it while I was there. I was not willing to turn highway robber, which it would have amounted to. Here was the turning point in our lives, especially in the case of Thorn, who didn’t seem to have any compunctions in the matter, though, in the eyes of many, he would have been fully justified. The Government, through their soldiers, had robbed us of everything we had and was seeking to take our lives without the benefit of a court martial, and, under the circumstances, Thorn’s idea might have been justified.
My friend Thorn readily yielded when I called his attention to the disgrace such an act would bring on our families, to say nothing of having entered into such practices, which would have carried us further into an infamous career. To me, the fact that we had to depend on misrepresentation and lies to save our lives as long as we could, with a faint hope of ultimately living out of it, was bad enough. Lying was revolting to my very nature. I always detested a liar, as much so as I did a thief, but in this case, I leave it to the reader whether we were justified or not.
On parting with Mr. Porter, the next day, he pulled out a large purse of twenty dollar gold pieces and offered it to Thorn; told him to take it all, but I pushed back his hand and told Thorn that he must not take a dollar of it, as it was money collected by Porter, belonging to T. W. House. Porter insisted on him taking some of it; saying that he could replace it from his salary account, but I said no, I had good friends at Waxahachie, who would furnish me whatever money we actually needed. George A. Porter is still living in Houston and has built up one of the largest commission businesses in the place.
We now proceeded to Waxahachie without further incident and put up at the Rogers House. E.W. Rogers being an old friend of mine he did his best to make us feel at home. Here, as stated, I was known by many of the old citizens and we passed under our own names. About a week passed, during which time we watched the daily papers and read every report from South Texas, expecting daily pursuit. One day, while in a store across the street from the Rogers House, old man Rogers came in, somewhat excited, and told us a man had just got off the stage at the hotel and registered as “Brown, from Hempstead.” He thought, from his talk, he was a Federal and advised us to go over and investigate. We immediately started across, and noticed the man in the door. When within about fifteen feet of him, he recognized me, saying, “Hello, Mr. Graber; are you here? We thought you were in Mexico by this time.” I told him, “No, we are going to Mexico, but not the way you thought we were.” By this time Thorn had got inside of the door and said to Brown, “Let me see you a minute,” and led him into our room. As soon as inside, Thorn jerked out his pistol, saying, “Get down on your knees and say your prayers; d—— you, I ‘m going to kill you.” I quickly pushed his pistol aside, told him to hold on and let us hear what he had to say; “if he is here on business, after us, you can take him.”
The fellow told a straight tale about his business there, saying that he came to see an aunt of his, who lived about fifteen miles from Waxahachie, a woman who was known to me. I told him to get up, that he was all right and not on business for us. He said that he never would tell of seeing us there if we did not want him to do so. He said that he was a Missourian and had been in the Federal Army; was wounded at the battle of Elkhorn, in his left wrist, a bad scar of which he showed us, and said this brought him to his senses; he quit fighting us and went into the sutler’s business, to make what money he could out of them, and came to Hempstead with the troops in that capacity, though when I became known to him there, he was a mail clerk in the post office, though I did not recall his face. He told us, furthermore, that he was quite intimate with Capt. Lancaster and had heard Lancaster say that he told these fellows if they didn’t quit their deviltry somebody would kill them, but Brown said Lancaster told him that he had his orders, received from General Griffin at Galveston, who was then in command of Texas, and Griffin had orders from General Sheridan to make an example of us and have us shot down wherever we were found, without the benefit of a court martial. I told Brown, when he got back, to tell Captain Lancaster where he had met us and also his treatment at our hands and since he, Lancaster, had orders to show us no quarter, which we didn’t ask or expect at his hands, and if we should ever meet up with him I would make it a special point to get him, like we did the chief desperado at Hempstead.
Realizing that my friend Thorn had become too desperate for me to control, especially while drinking, I determined to cut loose from him, which I felt justified in doing, as he was then comparatively out of danger, and I suggested to him to start to California, where his mother was living. She was wealthy and able to take care of him and his family if he could succeed in bringing them out. This he decided to do. I then borrowed some money and had a business friend to rig him out in some good clothes and charge to me. I gave him a very fine gold watch and chain I had and started him for California, by way of Kansas City and the Union Pacific Railroad. I parted with him about two miles north of Waxahachie, he continuing in that direction and I turning east, out of sight of the town, suspecting that we might be watched, as to the direction we were both going. I forgot to mention that I exchanged horses with my friend Rogers’ son, for one of the best saddle horses in the country, and on this horse, well armed, having four six-shooters (two in holsters on my saddle and two on my belt), I felt I could ride all around and through that garrison in Hempstead, or any pursuing party. I then struck out for Navasota, with the determination to bring my wife and baby out, fearing they would arrest her and hold her as hostage.
Riding along the main road in Freestone County, about noon, with a severe headache, I discovered a white house on the prairie, about a mile to the right of the road and noticing a negro ahead of me, crossing the road going towards the house, I hurried and caught up with him. I asked him who lived at that house. He answered “Marse Dick Oliver,” who proved to be an old army friend of mine. I rode up to the house and found my friend Dick at home, and he introduced me to his family under my real name. They insisted on me spending the balance of the day and night with them. Dick said he would send for several of our old comrades, who lived in that neighborhood, to come and see me, which he did. One of them, Bulger Peeples, remained all night with me.
The next morning Dick made him go to a neighbor’s and get what money he had, which proved to be fifty dollars in silver, which he insisted on my taking before we parted. I hesitated, but finally accepted it. I now proceeded on down to Navasota, where I arrived in the morning, early, and went to the store of an acquaintance, a Mr. Guy. I remained in his back room all day long, while he sent to Courtney for my wife and baby to come up and meet me at Mr. Felder’s that night. We there spent the whole night with Mr. Felder and his family, planning what was best to do. I learned that they had been watching Dr. Hall’s place at Courtney, my wife’s sister’s home, closely, ever since I left, hoping to catch me there on a visit. It was decided that it would be impossible to take them out with me, as they would, no doubt, exert extra efforts by scattering troops around immediately, when they found that she had left home. We finally decided that my only chance for escape would be to go to Mexico. Mr. Felder had a brother living in Tuxpan, Mexico, to whom he gave me a letter of introduction and assured me that I would be safe with him if I ever succeeded in reaching there. I also arranged with my wife to correspond with her by means of an acid, which can be used as ink, but is invisible until held up to heat, which brings it out black. I would then get some friend to write to Dr. Hall, my brother-in-law, on some business subject. Only a few lines would be written and when he received our communications he would understand it and hand the letter to my wife, who would bring out the acid writing on the remaining blank of the sheet. In this letter I would tell her where Dr. Hall could direct his letter and by that means we kept in communication.
About daylight next morning, during a severe thunder and rain storm, one of the darkest nights I was ever out in, Mr. Felder took me through his field to the Piedmont Springs road, which I followed by the lightning, as best I could, swimming one slough, but got safely across the Navasota River and soon arrived at a house where I decided to stop and have my clothes dried, take a nap and get some breakfast.
I called at the house and found the gentleman very pleasant. I told him I was in trouble and wanted to stop and get some breakfast and have my clothes dried. He very cordially invited me in, loaned me a change of his clothes, while his wife dried my clothing and prepared some breakfast for me, during which time I took a nap. I then left the house, refreshed, and started on to Centerville, Leon County.