River Divided

“We are just south of the Alleghany Mountains. It would seem some of the mountain men are making great sport of harassing and stealing livestock from known Union sympathizers,” he said. “This has put a strain on the people’s willingness to come out for the Union. Our job is to stop, or better yet, take these bushwhackers into custody. I want two platoons to go into the mountains and run a loop over Droop Mountain ending up at Mill Point.”

“Speed is not the objective. I want everyone to know the Army is here. Stop at every cabin, farm, camp, and talk friendly with the people. Remember, everyone likes a friendly dog,” the Captain went on with instructions to his command. “Sergeant Morton, you will be in charge with Jack as your scout.”

When they returned to their tents, Sergeant Morton approached Jack. “Have you ever been on Droop Mountain? he asked.

Jack looked at him and said, “No, but I know that if you cross to the westside of the ridge and go down hill you will come to the Gauley River. Then, you will be lost. Never cross over the ridge and go down hill. Just remember, west is the Gauley and east is the Greenbrier.” Sergeant Morton thought this over, and by his facial expression, he was still making plans.

That night, as the camp was starting to settle down. The men could be heard talking anxiously about their assignment when gunshots were heard. The sounds were coming from across the river beyond Lewisburg. Jack exited his tent to hear better. When Sergeant Morton appeared, he found his troopers excited and searching for their weapons. Morton commanded them to stand down. “That’s just what they want you to do! They’re a long ways away and all they’re doing’ is ruinin’ yer beauty rest,” he said. Jack caught his eye and nodded in agreement as he returned to his tent.

Next morning, the two platoons crossed back over the bridge and turned north up the Greenbrier River. At Falling Spring, they turned west and started the upward trek from the river. They passed several farms and stopped at each to talk to the people. The reaction was mixed. Some were friendly and offered hospitality. Others withdrew and offered few smiles. Visiting with the people slowed their progress, but made their trip more enjoyable. Soon, the horses seemed to know when they came to a farm that a rest would be in order. The day was long and without event. About two hours before darkness, they stopped at a creek and set up camp for the night.

Jack left the camp on foot and scouted the area. After a time, he returned and conferred with Sergeant Morton where to best place the sentries around the perimeter. “Tell your sentries it would be best if they don’t stand out in the open. I have a feeling we are being followed. Some young rebel bushwhacker would like to make his mark,” Jack explained. Sergeant Morton agreed and set about giving orders for the night

After supper, and as dusk was approaching, Jack retrieved his rifle and told Sergeant Morton he was going to backtrack to see if he could find out if they were being followed. “Don’t shoot me when I return in about two hours,” he cautioned with a smile and a laugh.

He went back down the road once again stopping at every turn to listen. He was surprised when he heard voices within a short distance of the camp. He left the road and slowly made his way towards the voices. He finally reached a point where he could make out the conversation.

“We kin sneak up real close, and shoot one of ‘em by the campfire. They’ll never ketch us in the dark,” the first voice said. Jack could not understand the reply that was offered. The speaker was facing away from him, or had a speech impairment. Jack waited and watched. His eyes grew accustomed to the dark.”