Near Hopkinsville the guerrillas met twelve Federal cavalrymen who sought the shelter of a barn and gave battle. The fight lasted for more than an hour, and until the barn was fired, when the twelve brave fellows were forced from their defense and were shot as they rushed from the flames. Their horses then became the property of the guerrillas. Frank James stopped one day with an uncle, who lives about fifty miles from Hopkinsville, and thus permitted the command to get so far ahead of him that he did not engage in any more skirmishes in Kentucky; for, two days afterward, Quantrell was driven into a small village called Smiley, where, finding escape impossible, he made his last stand. It was forty against nearly three hundred, and Quantrell knew that it was a fight to the death. Bleeding almost at every pore, the black-bannered bandit fought like the gladiators, until, blinded by his own blood, and with a score of gaping wounds, he fell mortally wounded, with an empty pistol in one hand and a bloody sword in the other. It was thus that the entire force of Quantrell's guerrillas died, excepting Frank James, whose life was spared for darker deeds.
JESSE JAMES' CAREER IN TEXAS.
As previously stated, Jesse James left Missouri in company with George Shepherd and forty or fifty guerrillas, for Texas, where they spent the winter of 1864-5 without special activity, and in the spring it was decided to return to Missouri, although such a decision was pregnant with a renewal of all the dangers from which they had just escaped. Upon reaching Benton county Jesse James, Arch Clements and another comrade proceeded to the farm-house of James Harkness, who was known as an uncompromising Union man. They decoyed him a short distance from his house by requesting him to direct them to a spring which they knew was in the neighborhood. When out of sight of the house Jesse James and his comrade caught Harkness by the arms and held him firmly, while Arch Clements drew a large bowie-knife with which he cut the throat of the defenceless farmer, almost severing his head. Fresh blood being upon their hands, they rode into Johnson county to the house of Allen Duncan, another Union man, and finding him chopping wood in his yard, Jesse James first accosted him and then sent a bullet into his brain.
The guerrilla band, now numbering scarce a score, before getting out of Johnson county were surprised by a company of Federal volunteers and almost annihilated. Jesse James had his horse shot under him and a musket ball went crashing through his lungs. Supposing him dead, the Federals gave pursuit to the fleeing guerrillas and chased the remaining few for nearly fifty miles. The wounded guerrilla lay for two days where he fell, in terrible agony, and would have died except for the kindly ministrations of a farmer who chanced to find him. The care he received, after weeks of suffering, enabled him to again resume the saddle, and he went to Nebraska, where his mother was temporarily living and where he remained until the return of Frank James from Kentucky late in the following summer.
Before Frank left Brandensburg, however, he met with an adventure which nearly cost his life. The vicinity of Brandensburg was infested with horse-thieves, and suspicion was directed against Frank as one of the guilty band. It was determined to arrest him, and for this purpose a posse of six men went to the house where he was stopping, and after charging him with horse-stealing, demanded his arms. The response was most unexpected, for, with an oath, he drew his pistol and shot three of the party, and in return was badly wounded in the thigh. The other three fled, but a large crowd soon collected, to intimidate which Frank backed up against the house and threatened to shoot any one who made the least motion to harm him. A horse was standing hitched conveniently near, and, compelling the crowd to fall back, he drew his suffering body up into the saddle and made his escape. The wound proved a very serious one and kept him confined to his bed at the house of a friend, where he found refuge, nearly seventy-five miles from Brandensburg, for several months.
ROBBERY AND MURDER.
It is a trite old saying that "one crime begets another," and in the life of Jesse and Frank James it is well illustrated. When the war closed and the occupation of the guerrilla, under color of authority, was gone, the James Boys were loth to change the exciting and dangerous vocation to which they had become inured by nearly four years of almost ceaseless activity. Other guerrillas, who had been their comrades in so many desperate struggles, which had made their very names a terror, had surrendered themselves when the bond of national union had been repaired, and returned to peaceful pursuits; but Jesse and Frank James affected to despise the ordinary walks of life and refused to tread other than paths which bristled with danger and anxiety. Both were sorely wounded, and a period of recuperation was necessary; and this respite from the turmoils of bandit life was employed in the conception of bold schemes by which to enlarge the notoriety of their names and to accumulate wealth.