The Other Side of Lincoln. Welby Thomas Cox, Jr.

Fremont from the command and Fremont’s protégé, Electus Dominus Lenahan resigns his commission to join forces of William C. Quantrill under special orders of General Ulysses S. Grant.

      Author’s note: Thank you for your patience in helping me to establish the historical background for the novel to unfold in the balance of the book. I have added additionally, after each chapter, (in this type-face) in order to distinguish the chapters of the fictional novel from certain historical facts occurring along the time period of the novel. It is my hope that you will enjoy this method, and that it will not interrupt the pleasure of reading the novel. My very best regards to all, and ...good read!

      Chapter 1: South Carolina Secedes

       "Will you be slaves or independent" Jefferson Davis, President of the Confederate States of America

      The elegant Charleston Hotel was surely the place to be...a veritable who’s who of politicians, lawyers, wealthy planters, businessmen and other assembled would bees loitering in the lobby and the overflowing bar which was the place to be seen.

      There was a festive air, only a few days to Christmas of 1860, and all those assembled seemed in a hospitable and expectant mood. Oscar Matterly, a wealthy Planter from Central Kentucky was the first to notice the elderly South Carolinian, Edmund Ruffin enter the bar area.

      “Edmund!” Matterly stood and waved to his old friend.

      “Come have a drink...we’re toasting tomorrow and the future.” He beamed as Ruffin approached the table. The others stood to greet the wealthy and well-known slaver and secessionist.

      “Oscar, you old reprobate...you still alive?” Ruffin smiled in a good natured manner as he grasped the hand of the richest Planter in Kentucky, and a leading advocate for his state to follow the lead expected of South Carolina to secede from the union.

      “Tomorrow we’re going to get a five day jump on St. Nick.” Matterly said, as the others roared their approval.

      “1860 will prove to be a watershed year in the history of this country and South Carolina will lead the choir...sending a resolute message to our neighbors to the North. We refuse to give up our freedom and the right to run our states” Bill Pollard said as he hugged the old man.

      “And you have always been the choir master, Mr. Ruffin.” Robert Stone said extending his hand in friendship.

      “Mr. Ruffin, permit me to introduce a friend from California, Glenn Swindler.” Bill Pollard said.

      “My pleasure indeed, to one who has traveled so far, to observe the delegation and the historical process...welcomes Mr. Swindler.” Ruffin said “In no official capacity sir, but an honor to meet the man known across the country with the clarity of conscience and fortitude to stand against those who would thwart freedom, and the rights of the states to self-determination.” Swindler said.

      “Yes, I anticipate South Carolina will fire a loud and effective message that every state in the union has the right to self-determination, on issues greater than slavery...we kicked George’s ass when he tried to impose his burdensome levy...we refuse to be held hostage to a federal government intent on bankrupting the states through its aggressive taxation to aid the northern manufacturing element.” Ruffin said to the obvious delight of the other choir members. “Most of this country does not understand that a most salient fact gentleman...the coming war is not over the Negro but the enslavement of the nation while hooked to the engines of progress!”

      A roar went up as Edmund Ruffin completed what sounded like a stump speech with a message as clear as any which might have been written by Abe Lincoln, himself.

      “You got that right Edmund...we’re too damn smart to become the Niger’s of the north.” Shane Seller said. “The question is who will do the bidding in the west...will California come in as a Free or Slave State Mr. Swindler?”

      “Of course, we are new to statehood but my guess is that we are equally divided at this time and as you know we may be looking to South Carolina and perhaps even Kentucky to move our process.” Swindler said turning from Oscar Matterly hoping that the older man would not recognize him for there was work to be done and undercover activity was the order of the day.

      “That sounds like a copout, you already know where South Carolina is going; but let us face the facts, gentlemen, California is so far west... and out of the mainstream, that they know they are the masters of their own destiny...be it free or be it slave, it’s only a name.”

      “Kentucky is feeling the pressure from Washington as we sit. Lincoln can ill afford to lose his home state...but what the hell, those of us in Kentucky don’t consider him a Kentuckian anymore with his long history in Indiana and Illinois.” Matterly said.

      “Sit down here Edmund...rest your old bones and let me get you a nice hot toddy to warm your countenance.” Matterly urged.

      “What the hell are you campaigning for Oscar...thanks for the offer of the hot toddy but just order me a double Kentucky bourbon with a spring water on the side.” Ruffin said.

      A black waiter stood nearby...Matterly waved for a round for the group.

      “Heh boy...did you hear what The Honorable Mr. Ruffin is drinking...make that the best Kentucky bourbon in the house...and make it quick.” Matterly said.

      “Yes su masser.” The waiter hurried off, like some whipped dog, as he left the room.

      “Colonel Matterly...might I have a moment to speak with you privately.” Shane Sellers from Virginia whispered.

      “Why certainly Shane...walk with me to the lobby...excuse us for a moment gentlemen.” Matterly said to the group. The wealthy Planter and member of the Kentucky Militia lead the way into the sprawling lobby of the hotel, which was crawling with guest.

      “As always you’re very gracious with your time Colonel.” Sellers said as they settled in the plush wing chairs on the edge of the lobby.

      “Could I offer you a freshly handmade cigar...just purchased this very morning.” Sellers offered.

      Chapter 2: The Carnage Comes Early

       "The passive defense is a form of deferred suicide" Old military maxim

      The early spring morning weather had not come up as Leck Lenahan had hoped. Driving a herd of cattle from Bardstown to Raywick, some thirty-five miles was ornery enough without having to contend with the weather. But it could have been worse, it could be sleeting or snowing or raining bullets and arrows, Lenahan thought as he made his way to the barn to saddle his horse for the trip to Gabe Russell’s farm to pick up his neighbor and former Calvary unit buddy, the man who had been his best friend since childhood.

      Lenahan and Russell had originally signed on with the army to earn a living, get three squares a day, uniforms and a place to sleep even if it meant, at times, doing so out of doors. Best of all you could do it on horseback. What more do you need when you’re fifteen, Lenahan remembered his friend saying. They were prepared to shoot a few injuns but Lenahan remembered his friend saying... you know what they say about injuns. That always puzzled Lenahan...he didn’t know what they said about injuns...except they couldn’t hold their liquor! But what the heck Lenahan thought neither could he or Gabe Russell for that matter. Hell half of the federals, except for most of the brass... couldn’t hold its liquor, so what do we have on the injuns. Lenahan meant to ask Russell that question; he hoped that he would remember to do so, on the trip to pick up the hides at Bardstown.

      There would be lots of time for other inquiries as well. Major among those would be the issue of Russell’s marriage to the widow Ima Longing. A woman nearly twenty years Russell’s senior. What was going on there...but unlike the rest of the community gossip and saloon talk, Lenahan only had to look at his friends eyes to know the real truth. This was a happy man, and that was all that mattered.

      Lenahan knew Russell better than he knew anyone. Leck was the youngest of fourteen children