Bloody Dawn (18 page)

Quickly the troopers jumped down, and using the fence as a rest, a loud volley was fired up and down the line. The blast startled the horses. Rearing and bucking, many bolted through the field and a number of men broke from the line to give chase. At that moment Todd made his move. With a wild war whoop the guerrillas sprang forward at a run. And at this terrifying sight, and at this even more terrifying sound, a complete panic seized the Kansans. Forgetting discipline or valor, it was simply every man for himself. Hundreds of soldiers, civilians, and riderless horses stampeded back through the corn, bumping and trampling one another as bullets whizzed and screaming bushwhackers pounded closer. Only then, when everyone else had fled did Lane—who was still struggling with the fence—look around and realize his predicament. And when the lead Rebel, with both pistols blazing, was almost upon him, Lane too dashed back through the corn, dodging this way and that.

Finally, the breathless Union men reached the fence from which they entered. No one had been killed in the rout, although a few had scratches and bruises, but the fear had been perfect. Gathering up their more manageable mounts the Federals began to regroup as Lane came in. Looking back over the demolished field the Kansans were forced to watch miserably as the Missourians laughed and hooted, waving their hats mockingly in the air. At length, when all were remounted, the pursuers crossed the field once more and there, uncontested, they saw the last of the raiders fording Ottawa Creek.
¹¹

By now, after all the running back and forth, the horses, especially those of the military—which were closing on their hundredth mile with little feed or rest—were utterly useless; most could barely walk. A survey was taken and eighty animals were found still able to hold a trot. An equal number of regulars and militiamen led by Lieutenant Leland were assigned to take these mounts and push the Rebel rear. They were to fight if possible, but above all they were to hang on Quantrill's heels and prevent further looting and burning.

After a mile or so the scouts did overtake the raiders on their equally worn mounts; once again the chase resumed. But as before,
the guerrilla rear guard formed a line when the pursuers drew near, fired a volley, then retreated behind the second line, which in turn fired and retreated and on and on, alternating mile after mile as Quantrill and the main column marched unmolested.

Throughout the afternoon the chase continued in this manner: over the parched and waterless prairie, under the merciless sun, with the bushwhackers in front, the skirmishers in the middle, and Plumb and his burgeoning army always at least one mile in the rear. Four raiders, possibly drunk, whose brains had been boiled to paste in the murderous heat, straggled and were slain without ceremony. Plumb's mount gave out and collapsed beneath him. Another was taken from a nearby farm and again the major rejoined the pursuit, over a trail littered with dead and dying horses, “strewn with … all
descriptions of plunder.” And always near Plumb or ahead, watchful lest something occur that demanded his participation or deft leadership, Lane too remained in the saddle.

Ahead, the Rebel column slanted southeast, “generally following no roads or paths,” still on line with Osawatomie. A scout sent beyond led the way, watching ravines and brush for ambush and the vast horizon for dust clouds. When hills broke contact between the two forces the guerrillas spurred to a “lope” and nothing more. The plan of wasting all in their path was abandoned now with Kansans close behind, but it was evident that they could not or would not attack again. Mercifully, with each agonizing mile the raiders drew a bit closer to the Missouri woodlands, to sleep and rest.
¹²

By 1:00
P.M.
Thomas Ewing had mounted and armed the three hundred men of the Eleventh Ohio and started south. Upon reaching Leavenworth City the general learned for the first time that the raiders had finally struck. Another source added that the Rebels were driving for the capital, Topeka. Without pause Ewing and the Ohioans galloped south.
¹³

As word of the raid on Lawrence raced through Leavenworth, everyone rushed into the streets. Stunned citizens gathered in groups and spoke quietly, genuinely concerned for the well-being of fellow Kansans. Some fretfully discussed the fate of friends and relatives. Others were not so altruistic, however, and were quick to grab the advantage.

Thieves and black-marketeers, idled by martial law, leapt to the fore, screaming aloud that someone was responsible for the disaster. The angered people agreed. And the most likely candidate, they pointed, was the man who had just left—the man who had been bullying their town and arresting good, solid Union men while miles away the cities of Kansas went up in flames. None seized the initiative quicker than did Mayor Dan Anthony. No sooner had Ewing left than the younger brother of Susan B. Anthony issued a blistering proclamation nullifying martial law and ordering the city to arms. Nailed to walls and rushed to press: “The know-nothing, do-nothing policy of the General commanding this District, who has shown his utter incapacity, with five thousand soldiers under his command, in allowing a few hundred guerrillas to get fifty miles into the interior of our State … is ample proof that we must depend upon ourselves for the defense of our city and State.”
¹⁴
Such was the storm cloud rising as Ewing rode south.

On into the blazing afternoon the general pushed his column, driving man and beast to their limit. Horses buckled and dropped dead from exhaustion. Four soldiers toppled over from sunstroke. Halts were few and fast, and after a minute or so the order to move was given. For Thomas Ewing, the day that opened so cool, calm, and promising proved in the end a flaming nightmare—one long, mad, furious race to reach the scene of action and patch the damage done to Kansas. Behind, trailing in the thick, blinding dust, his fellow Ohioans kept up as best they could.
¹⁵

If Leavenworth, a city of nearly twenty thousand, was “excited” following the news of Lawrence, the smaller towns south of the Kaw were absolutely alive. At Olathe, where citizens had watched the smoke all day, and whose populace had good reason to remember and fear Quantrill, “men ran in all directions” when he was rumored to be retreating their way.
¹⁶
And at countless other towns and villages the situation was the same. While menfolk flew to their local militias and joined the pursuit, frantic, confused women were left on desolate farms with only crying children to help remove household goods. Some took time to bury valuables, but most simply fled to fields hugging a photograph or keepsake.

When word reached Paola that Quantrill might be coming, the place sprang to life. Maj. B. F. Simpson, at home recruiting, speedily sought to organize a defense. Only a dozen regulars under Capt. Nicholas Benter were in Paola, but as the day wore on more men and weapons arrived until the town soon resembled an armed camp.
¹⁷

By five o'clock Lieutenant Colonel Clark and his company also rode in. After turning north that morning when nearly to Paola, Clark had hit the guerrillas' trail at Spring Hill and followed it to within a few miles of Gardner. There, to his chagrin, he learned that he was nothing short of a half day behind. Knowing there was a large force in pursuit and assuming Quantrill could not escape Kansas over the same route he entered it by, Clark pivoted and drove south once more—the proximity of the Marais des Cygnes woodlands made Paola a natural line of retreat. Upon reaching the town and finding it already well organized, the colonel sent scouts fanning south and west. As evening approached, more defenders rode in until eventually over five hundred guns faced the setting sun.
¹⁸

Shortly before dusk the dreaded news arrived. A scout had spotted the raiders five miles out, advancing south for Paola. Clark immediately ordered Major Simpson to take his men to the west edge of
town. There at Bull Creek ford, the main crossing to the Marais des Cygnes and a point Quantrill most likely would pass, Simpson, Benter, and their militia pulled up. The ford itself was dry, as was nearly all the creek. Just above the crossing, however, was a long run of deep water with sloping land on the west side but high-banked and brushy to the east. Well aware of the arid stretch of prairie between Lawrence and Paola, Simpson rightly guessed the condition of any horse crossing it. Upon reaching the creek and smelling water, the thirst-maddened creature would prove uncontrollable and bolt headlong into the pool. That's when the order to fire would come—when the guerrillas were trapped in deep water on animals that refused to budge. Positioning his men in the woods atop the eastern bank as well as along the ford, the major then sent a squad up the road to give advance warning. With orders to hold their fire until a signal was given, the ambushers settled in to await the Rebel approach.
¹⁹

At dusk Quantrill and the main body of raiders passed over the summit of Big Hill, two miles northwest of Paola. Here atop the high ridge the column overtook the scout and halted momentarily. Taking the lead himself, Quantrill then steered down the slope. After only a short distance, however, he ordered another halt, and soon Todd and the rear guard appeared.

Pressing ahead, Lieutenant Leland and forty militiamen advanced up Big Hill, over which the Rebels had disappeared. Far to the rear came Plumb and the rest of the Union pursuers. When partway up the rise, Leland and his men drew rein. On the opposite side of the hill an eerie sound was heard. As the men stood and listened the noise grew louder and louder until, suddenly, over the top burst Quantrill and two hundred screaming bushwhackers. Instantly, the dark crest of Big Hill flashed with gunfire.

Reeling back, Leland's little band fled for their lives as the Rebels charged downward. After a mile the militia paused just long enough to turn, then let fly a wild volley into the night. Again, a little further on another round was fired until at length they reached Plumb and the main column. Behind them, all had suddenly become quiet; there was not a guerrilla in sight. Together the Federals rode back cautiously toward Big Hill. Once atop the ridge, however, no Rebels were discovered, and it soon became obvious that Quantrill had used the charge and time created to slip away into the now totally darkened landscape. Thus the only option open to Plumb, as he saw it, was to continue in the same direction the pursuit had followed throughout the day—south to the Marais des Cygnes. Despite the many failures, his force might yet overtake and press the raiders until some other unit could block their retreat.
²⁰

In the quiet along Bull Creek, Simpson and his nervous militia waited. The scouts had been gone an hour and still no word. But then, just when the major began to despair, a scout galloped in reporting that indeed the bushwhackers were on their way and would be at the ford in less than a minute. Quickly, the men took their positions. Soon, unseen in the dark, hundreds of hooves were heard approaching. In a moment, the walk of the horses up the road became a trot, then a run, then a wild stampede, and as riders tried in vain to control their thirsty mounts, shouting and cursing filled the air. At last, when the uproar reached its peak, the unmanageable beasts crashed madly through the brush and plunged headlong into the creek. Simpson readied to give the signal, but just then he yelled for everyone to hold their fire. Above the tumult he heard a voice.

“Is that you, Plumb?” shouted Simpson over the din.

“Yes,” came the astonished reply. And with that a bloody calamity was narrowly averted. After watering their horses, the two groups agreed that returning to Paola and handing over control of the pursuit to Lieutenant Colonel Clark was the wisest decision. Thankful a grievous mistake had been avoided, yet disheartened at their inability to box Quantrill, Plumb, Simpson, Lane, and the rest rode away from the ford.
²¹

Immediately after the fight on Big Hill, under cover of darkness, Quantrill moved east until he came to the banks of Bull Creek. At this point the plan of marching to the Marais des Cygnes and hence crossing Bull Creek somewhere to the south was abandoned. Instead, the raiders broke sharply to the north seeking a ford further up. And after a ride of several miles, the column finally crossed a branch of the stream; here, at eleven o'clock, a camp was made. Pickets were sent out, horses allowed to graze, and in a few minutes most of the men were down and fast asleep.
²²

At midnight, Maj. Linn Thacher reached Olathe. There he learned that Quantrill's march during the day had been on a direct line for Paola. With over one hundred men Thacher rode out, driving due south.
²³
A few miles away two hundred additional Federals were also pushing for Paola. Near Osawatomie, another company of regulars was pounding north. On the border, Lt. Col. W. King and the Fourth Missouri Militia were marching directly southwest for Paola.
²⁴

Meanwhile, well over a thousand soldiers and militiamen were in Paola, cooking meals on open fires and sleeping in the courthouse square.
²⁵
Although it was clear that Quantrill had not gone south over the ford, nor with the many scouts watching had he passed east near the town, and with Plumb to his rear he certainly hadn't slipped deeper into Kansas, it seemed fairly obvious that he must have escaped north. But from sundown on into the night, the Union force at Paola remained camped and idle.

Sometime around 1:00
A.M.
news arrived that the guerrillas had been located. A squad of militia scouting the forks of Bull Creek had stumbled upon their bivouac. Unfortunately, although there was no exchange of gunfire, the Rebels had grown wary and resumed the retreat.
²⁶
At this revelation a stir began anew in the slumbering town. Men, especially the comparatively rested and avid militia, packed food and prepared to saddle. When all was ready Major Simpson and Captain Benter checked in with Clark for further instructions. Instead of being told to mount and strike the trail, however, the stunned officers were ordered to remain in Paola. Major Simpson protested, exclaiming that Quantrill would escape. Clark rebuffed this bit of impudence, stating that the pursuit would begin when he said it would and that the more rational approach was to start first thing in the morning when both man and beast were reasonably fresh.