Bob Rutherford and his wife, an historical romance

Front matter

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AN HISTORICAL ROMANCE.

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Chapter I

In the summer of 1835, in an elegantly furnished room of one of the principal hotels in the city of Vicksburg, Mississippi, a young man not exceeding twenty- five years of age sat smoking a cigar, while near him, reclining on the arm of a rocking-chair, stood a tall, graceful woman with her eyes beaming upon him, and cheeks flushed with the most intense feeling.

Through the vapory smoke that curled from the end of his cigar, and wreathed his face in an amber cloud, might be traced a kind of restlessness and uneasiness that portended some mental anxiety which he fain would conceal from his fair companion.

But, with that intuition which is born of a loving heart, it was too evident that she had fathomed that deep disquietude which he would hide from her.

A low rap at the door broke the ominous silence, and removing the cigar from his mouth, he arose, and in a rather faltering voice bade the party enter.

A tall, raw-boned man, perhaps forty years of age, with grizzled locks, and a face upon which hard usage had seemed

BOB RUTHERFORD AND HIS WIFE.

to stamp itself, giving it a premature expression, opened the door, and entering, closed it after him.

“Tom! is Dr. Bodley dead?” the woman exclaimed, before her companion could address the man who had entered the room.

“ He is,” he said, “ and the town is perfectly wild. I hear that the citizens are forming themselves into a vigilance committee, and I should not be surprised if there was some desperate work done before morning.”

Walking to an armoire, the young man took from a shelf two dueling pistols and a long, keen, bright-bladed knife, all of which he buckled around him, and advanced toward the door.

In the mean time the young woman had taken hold of the knob, and as her companion moved toward it she said in rather a suppressed tone, “ Bob, you will not surely go on the street to-night.”

Taking her hand gently from the door knob, and pressing it tenderly in his own, he said, “Only for a short time, my darling,” and bending over her, imprinted a kiss upon her fair brow; and turning to the man who had just entered, remarked, “Tom, you will remain with Kate until I return, which shall be in less than an hour.”

Bending her head low upon her breast, the woman moved aside, and her companion passed into the hall and from thence into the street.

The night was dark, but from the lights that streamed from the windows and doors of the hotel, and from the saloons far up the street, a. restless crowd gathering in knots here and there, and filling the sidewalks, plainly indicated that the city of Vicksburg was red hot with excitement.

Avoiding the throng, Bob Rutherford turned up a side street and disappeared in the darkness of the night.

The uproar on the street, which for a time had been rather repressed, now seemed to break forth more violently, and a tall man, who for a short time had been haranguing the crowd, exclaimed, “ Fellow-citizens, is there no redress for these outrages which daily occur in our midst ? Are our citizens to be shot down in our streets in cold blood, and the perpetrators of the deed to go unpunished? Are we to be forever ruled by men who give protection to those assassins who stalk abroad in our midst with red hands, making our wives widows and our children orphans? Forbid it, Almighty God!” and dismounting from a box on which he stood, a voice from the midst exclaimed, “ To the Casino !” and the speaker, who had just stepped from the position where he had been addressing the crowd, led the way, and the men followed their leader into the darkness of a night that is still remembered by scores — yea, hundreds — though many years have elapsed since that vigilance committee avenged themselves of the daring crimes which those lawless men had perpetrated against the sanctity of the law and the good order of society.

Bob Rutherford, after leaving his wife with his friend Tom Johnson, walked rapidly up the street, and entering a hall, with several quick strides bounded up a flight of stairs, and knocking twice at a door which was at once opened, he entered a room in which were congregated perhaps a dozen

BOB RUTHERFORD AND HIS WIFE.

men who had been engaged in a game of faro, but now stood around the table talking in an undertone as Rutherford entered.

“What is the news, Bob?” asked a young man, approaching and laying his hand upon his shoulder. “ I understand there is a great stir on the street since it has been made known that Dr. Bodley has died of his wounds.”

Before he could answer, the vigilance committee was inside the door at the bottom of the steps. As the crowd began to fill the hall, a woman with a cloak wrapped around her, and with her dark hair streaming from her shoulders, dashed up the stairs, and rushing into the room, seized Bob Rutherford by the arm, and turning and facing the vigilance committee, who had filled the hallway, she grasped from her husband’s belt the keen, glittering blade, and brandishing it above her head, cried, “Stand back!” and as the knife flashed in the wavering light of the chandelier that hung in the hall, the men gave way, and she quickly passed along and out into the darkness.

Soon after Bob Rutherford left his young wife in the company of his tried friend, Tom Johnson, the latter turned to her and said, “ Mrs. Kate, I am afraid we shall have wild work in the city to-night, and I think I had better leave you and get my boat in readiness to convey you and Bob down the river, should the excitement continue and a vigilance committee be organized. If it is, you may depend there will be a hot time, and it will be safer for Bob to leave the city. You will remember where my boat is tied up. It is at the little willow, only a short distance below the oak under which we sat

BOB RUTHERFORD AND HIS WIFE.

and chatted this evening. Bob will not surely remain out long, and when he comes tell him I will be at the boat waiting for you.”

After closing the door he opened it again and said impressively, “Tell Bob to come right along.”

Going to the window which overlooked the gathering crowd as it was being stirred up by its leader, she heard the voice cry out, “ To the Casino !” and knowing that her husband had gone to warn his friends of the impending danger, she flew to the armoire, and throwing her mantle across her shoulders, rushed along the street as the vigilance entered the hall, and with that heroism born of a woman’s love for her husband she pushed in, and before the men could recover from the consternation produced by the glitter of the knife in the hands of a seemingly timid girl who had been aroused to the desperation, the two had disappeared in the darkness.

But the turbulent crowd moved on, and seizing the terrified inmates of the Casino, dragged them forth into the street, and they too disappeared into the darkness of the night. When the sun arose the next morning the bodies of five men were seen dangling in the air. In the bosom of one of these unfortunate victims a large solitaire diamond flashed in the morning sunlight, as if in horrid mockery of the ghastly spectacle which presented itself.

As Bob Rutherford, clinging to his wife’s arm, bewildered and half crazed with emotion, passed down the street, they met a man staggering along and covered with blood.

“ Help me!” he exclaimed, as Bob and his wife were hurrying past.

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BOB RUTHERFORD AND HIS WIFE.

“ Heavens ! Bob,” said his wife, “ it is Leroy Mattingly,” recognizing the voice in the plaintive cry for help.

Realizing the fact that a delay was dangerous, for the sound of many voices was heard far up the street, Bob let go his wife’s arm, which until now he had clung to, and seizing that of Mattingly he dragged him down the hill in the direction of the place where Tom Johnson had his boat moored.

They had proceeded but a short distance before Mattingly said, “ My God ! Bob, I am fainting ; lay me down !” and like a helpless child the strong man sank to the ground.

Bending over him, the wife of Rutherford held a bottle of salts which she carried in her pocket to his nostrils, and the man seemed to revive. As the two bent over the prostrate form of the dying man, a dark form came stealthily from around the corner, but halted a few feet off, hesitating to advance. It was Tom Johnson, and seeing the form of a female he came up astonished to find his friends in such a dilemma.

In the mean time the noise was increasing, for the vigilance had dragged the gamblers from their retreat, and were now hurrying them down the street in the direction of the little party gathered on the sidewalk beside the wounded man. Taking him 'tenderly by each arm, Rutherford and Johnson raised the prostrate form of Mattingly, who groaned in deep pain as they moved slowly down the street. Fortunately they met only one man, who hurried past without noticing them.

Once on the bank of the river, they placed Mattingly on the ground, and the wife of Rutherford began to bathe his head as it rested on the arm of her husband.

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II

“ Hurry up, Tom, and bring the boat,” said Rutherford, as Johnson turned away and disappeared. The blood from the bullet wound in the breast of Mattingly slowly oozed, which Rutherford’s wife attempted to staunch with a cambric handkerchief, dyeing the tips of her beautiful fingers with the crimson current of a life which was but too surely ebbing away.

Unloosing the boat from its mooring, Tom Johnson dipped the oars into the swift current, and slowly ascended the river to where the two men and the woman were left. Rounding a bend, the boat shot into a little cove caused by the caving of the bank, and, hauling it up on the shore, Johnson with the assistance of Rutherford and his wife placed the wounded man in the bottom, and with his head reclining on the arm of his friend it was shoved off and floated silently down “ the great Father of Waters.”

Johnson sat in the stern of the boat, more as a steersman than to hasten its motion, and as they drifted in the darkness they could see from the glimmer of the lights in the city that the Angel of Peace had quietly withdrawn, that the great Avenger of the murder and assassination might bare his arm for the protection of peace and good order among its citizens. And well did he vindicate the majesty of the -law that had been trampled upon and spit upon by men who had bade it defiance, and with a strong arm had turned the quiet of this city of the hills into a hell and filled it with rapine and murder. But the day of vengeance had come, and the lawabiding citizens, seeing that justice had been made a mockery in her own temple, had determined to crush out this monster

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with a strong arm ; and forming themselves into a vigilance committee, they sought the perpetrators of these damning deeds and swung them to a gibbet, where they still hung, as an example to evil-doers and to the violators of the law.

The boat that held the three men and the wife of Rutherford floated slowly down the river. The splashing of the waves against the side of the boat and the occasional groans of the dying man alone broke the painful silence. It was a dark night. The heavens were filled with floating clouds that obscured the rays of the moon, which anon would break forth as the drifting clouds parted for a moment, but soon gathered again, leaving the darkness more palpable.

It now became apparent to Rutherford, who supported the head of the wounded man, that he could not last much longer. Faintly calling the names of his mother and sister, his mind seemed to wander to the home of his childhood; but his pulse which his friend held feebly flickered for a moment, the head sank back, and in the midst of the darkness the soul took its everlasting flight.

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Chapter II

The wife of Rutherford until now had been nerved up by the passing events, but when her husband informed them that Mattingly was dead she swooned, and would have fallen into the river had not Johnson, who was sitting near her, caught her by the arm. Laying the dead man in the bottom of the boat, he raised the head of his wife and bathed her temples with the water which he scooped up in his hands. It seemed to revive her, and throwing her arms around the neck of her husband she wept bitterly.

Johnson now moved his seat to the middle of the boat, and taking an oar in each hand, and bending upon them, they cut deep into the water, and the boat shot' rapidly forward. In an hour they had swung around the island below Delta, and the lights from the city of Vicksburg, that had not until now been lost sight of, vanished from their sight. Would to God that the scenes of that night could be blotted out from the book of remembrance of Rutherford and his devoted wife. But such sights can not be so easily effaced. They remain indelibly stamped, and come up in panoramic view, chasing each other like a phantom or like an ignis fatuus, now here, now there, only lost sight of for the moment, that they may appear again in the horrid darkness in which the soul is forever steeped.

Ten miles below the city of Vicksburg is a landing known as Davis’ Bend ; out from the river, perhaps a mile, was a house built with two rooms, and back of one of these a shed room. This was the home of Tom Johnson, and thither Rutherford and his wife were carried in a wagon drawn by two mules, with a negro as driver.

The corpse of Mattingly was conveyed to a house which stood upon the bank of the river, and was there placed in a rough pine coffin. The next morning Johnson and Rutherford came with a wagon, and with the assistance of two other men the coffin was placed in it, and riding about a mile into the forest they arrived at a spot where there were several graves, near which was the newly made grave prepared for the unfortunate Mattingly. Without any ceremony, and with scarcely a word uttered, the men lowered the coffin into its resting place and shoveled the dirt upon it. Taking a cypress shingle from the wagon, Rutherford wrote on it, “ Leroy Mattingly, Lexington, Kentucky,” and sticking it at the head of the mound, turned away, and the gambler was left in the deep solitudes of the great valley of the Mississippi, there to remain until the judgment of the great day, when all earth shall be called up to the judgment bar, there to give an account of the deeds done in the body.

That day and night the wife of Rutherford was prostrated from nervousness, and it was only after administering to her at least two thirds of a grain of opium that she slept. Her husband bent over her, watching her heavy breathing and holding her pulse, which occasionally lightly flickered from the effects of the opiate, and then beat violently again. Toward morning she seemed to rest more quietly, and Rutherlaid down beside her and slept. Tom Johnson, about an hour by sun, looked in upon them, and as they still slept he quietly withdrew. A short time thereafter Rutherford awoke and looked down upon the pale features of his wife, still composed in blissful slumber, and the strong minded man wept as he had not since he was a child. “Oh! thou Angel of Light!” he said, “who hast brought me safely through all these perils, how can I ever recompense thee for thy deep, fervent devotion ! ” and the tears slowly trickled down his pale cheek and fell upon the brow of his wife. They were as the balm of Gilead to his troubled and tempest-tossed soul, and his overburthened heart seemed to feel a relief from them. The falling tear aroused the sleeping wife, and she turned and raising her eyes to the face of her husband gently placed her head upon his arm, and the two mingled their tears together.

The next morning a steamer was to pass down the river, and Rutherford and his wife went out to the landing. Tom Johnson that day went into Vicksburg and brought away the two trunks already packed by his companions and guests. That evening the steamer arrived, and Rutherford and his wife, after an agonizing farewell with Tom Johnson, proceeded on board, and were soon hastening away from the scenes of their many troubles and afflictions. If ever a woman proved true to her marriage vows, the wife of Rutherford certainly did.

It was a sad day to Mr. Cross, a widower, when Kate, his only daughter, ran away with Bob Rutherford and was married. Though born in the same Kentucky village, and half cousins on their mothers’ side, it was well known that Bob was a sporting man, hence the deep, inexpressible grief of the parent. Leroy Mattingly had always been a boon companion of Rutherford, and Tom Johnson for many years had been the close neighbor of his father, and, though a bachelor, had a very great fondness for “Rollicking Bob,” as he used to call him.

Several years previous to the incident just mentioned he had moved to Mississippi and purchased a farm near Davis’ Bend, where he had removed Bob and his wife on that eventful night when the vigilance swooped down upon the Casino and hung the gamblers that had kept Vicksburg stirred up with the most intense commotion for more than a year, biding defiance to the authorities and shooting down several citizens in cold blood. Rutherford and his wife, after their marriage, came down the river on a steamer in the company of Mattingly, and the two men had been frequent inmates of the Casino, where they had many friends. For several days before these outrages had culminated in the formation of a vigilance committee a protracted tumult had filled the town, and dark rumors and terrible threats were made against these violators of the law. Tom Johnson, who had been in the town for several days, and apprehending danger to Bob and his wife, had remained, after a close conversation with the two, trying to persuade Bob to leave with his wife and go down to the farm until the confusion had been allayed. His wife had packed her trunks at the hotel the evening that Tom Johnson came to their room, and thought of leaving the next morning. Leroy Mattingly had also been warned, and would have accompanied them. That evening, in the company of two of his sporting friends, he had visited a saloon where a party of vigilance came upon them, and demanding a surrender, lights were extinguished, and several shots fired, one of which had wounded Mattingly. In the darkness he had made his escape and was staggering down the street, when he had accosted Bob and his wife on their flight from the Casino.

The steamer bearing Rutherford and his companion the next evening landed at Natchez, when the two disembarked. The quiet portion of the town, known as Natchez under the hill, with its flower gardens and business houses is quite different from what it was when Rutherford and his wife landed on its shores more than fifty years ago. It was then known as a gambling hell, and many were the dark deeds that made the night hideous “and the cheek of darkness grow pale.” It was not the intention of Rutherford to remain here long. A man of many noble and generous impulses, he had determined to change the life he had been leading and settle down to some business where he could earn an honest living for himself and his devoted wife. It is said that we are the creatures of destiny, and that, do as we may, we are still led by an irresistible power that impels us, and that we are unable to resist. Be that as it may, it would seem that the stopping of Rutherford and his wife at Natchez had changed the resolution of the former and opened to him a career, and it is hoped of usefulness — that the future alone could disclose.

The next morning, while standing in the office of the hotel, a tall man with a pale countenance, and an arm in a sling, walked up, and a gentleman introduced Rutherford to Col. Bowie, the inventor of the celebrated bowie-knife, and which was called after him. Col. Bowie was still suffering from the wounds he had received in one of the most remarkable duels ever fought, the weapons used being the celebrated knife of the inventor, and the parties, four on each side, all of whom were killed or died of their wounds but Bowie. It was supposed that he was mortally wounded, having received several dangerous cuts, but after a few months of suffering he had slowly recovered, and was just able to go about when he was introduced to Rutherford. If ever there was a man that seemed to attract another to himself, that man was Colonel Bowie. The moment that Rutherford’s hand was clasped in his, and he had looked into his large gray eyes, a mesmeric influence seemed to attract him. The liking was evidently reciprocal, and the two men, walking out on the balcony, seated themselves, and Rutherford narrated to him the incidents of the last few days. Col. Bowie was making preparations to go out to Texas, and invited Rutherford to accompany him.

“ But my wife I” said Rutherford ; “ I can not leave her.”

“ Take her along,” said Col. Bowie.

That night Rutherford told his wife of his plans, remarking that perhaps it would be better to leave her for a short time in New Orleans, where they expected to go the next day. But his wife would not consent to being left, and he concluded to take her with him.

For better or for worse, in sickness or in health, forsaking all others, the girl who had left her home and kindred for the man she loved had determined to remain by his side until death should them part. How strong, how true, how fervent is the love of woman! Unlike man’s, it shines forth in its purity, a gem of priceless value, a pearl of price, fadeless and enduring as eternity. It is like the evening star, that goes not down beneath the darkened west, but sinks into the glories of another clime. You may crush and blast its verdure, yet like the rose tree that has been bent by the passing gale, beneath a cloudless sunshine it will bloom again and look as bright on the to-morrow as it did on yesterday.

The next day Col. Bowie, accompanied by Rutherford and his wife, took passage on the boat for New Orleans. It was determined to remain only a few days in the city, and then start for Texas.

The second day after landing in New Orleans Col. Bowie introduced Rutherford to a tall, raw-boned man wearing a reddish-brown wig. It was Jim Fannin, and the trio were perhaps the most remarkable men that ever turned their faces to the far West; and as long as Texas is a State their names will be indissolubly connected with her tragic history. But it is not our purpose to anticipate events that have brought into notice these remarkable men, two of whose lives were offered up in behalf of human rights and human liberty. A country was to be reclaimed from the oppressor, and a nation was to be brought forth to till the soil made rich by the blood of her heroic men.

The tread of the invader was pressing the soil from which sprang the odor from a thousand variegated flowers, leaving behind him footprints like that of Attila, and the earth crimson with the blood of her hardy and adventurous sons.

A new existence seemed to infuse itself in the breast of Bob Rutherford, and for the first time in his life he had

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brought himself slowly but surely to the conclusion that there was some magnanimity in him yet, if it could only be brought out. Whenever a man arrives at that point in his history, it is a sure indication that the good in him is cropping out, and it only needs time and place to develop those latent qualities which seemingly are lying dormant in his breast. These are the men who go forth conquering and to conquer, filling the world and history with their noble achievements.

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Chapter III

A gambling saloon in a city like New Orleans, at the time of which we write, was not kept on some side street, or up some dark alley where its votaries crept stealthily along, evading officers of the law and giving countersigns and watchwords to some watchman guarding those silent precincts, that only the initiated and their friends might enter.

On one of the busiest thoroughfares, in a spacious mansion with marble steps leading up into a portico, on either side of which were two elegant cut-glass globes, so transparent that the light seemed but a reflection, stood one of the most fashionable and sumptuously furnished gambling saloons in the South. Entering from the portico into a hall with a high ceiling, and blazing with the light of a chandelier whose hundred prisms were but the reflex of the blaze that swung within and dazzled the eye with its brightness, stood a liveried servant bearing in his hand a silver salver curiously wrought, and in the center of which was engraved the figure of a soldier with a present-arms. At his feet crouched the image of a Newfoundland dog with paws extended in front of him. Overhead, richly frescoed on the ceiling, was a knight of the red cross mounted on an elegant charger. On the shoulder of the knight hung a pelisse made of crimson velvet and tipped with sable furs. His feet were incased in heavy morocco boots, and from the heel of each hung a silver spur. His head was covered with a dark fur cap, with a plume float-

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ing away from the left and streaming down his back. The restless charger stood with one foot raised, as if in the act of pawing the ground. The right hand of the knight held the bridle, while in the left a pointed spear was raised in a threatening attitude. Away in the distance, over a sterile plain with a rising background, behind which the sun was setting, casting a radiant glow over the landscape, rode a company of horsemen, but so far off that they did not appear half their size. The scene represented a Christian crusader in Palestine with a company of Saracen horsemen in the distance. A door opening to the right led into a suite of rooms, the floors of which were covered with rich tapestry, in which the foot seemed to sink down into the soft velvet, representing beds of tulips and bouquets of roses so delicately arranged that one would imagine the light tread of the highly polished boot would disarrange them or crush out the delicate tints so artistically blended together. On the walls were suspended the richest paintings, some from the Old Masters, and others from the more modern schools of painting, but each in itself a perfect gem. Scattered around the room were sofas and divans and highly polished chairs. From the windows, draped in damask and lace, hung large silver cords with tassels of gold. A marble table sat in the center of the room without any ornament upon it. But the most attractive piece of furniture in this elaborately furnished suite of parlors was a sideboard standing in the deep recess of the folding doors, with a large mirror back, reflecting from its marble top elegant cut-glass decanters and goblets, the decanters filled with wines and brandy, and Bourbon liquors from the rich blue-

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2 3 grass regions of Kentucky. At its side stood a young colored man with a white apron tied before him and a deeply fringed towel hanging on his arm. He was ostensibly the barkeeper for this modern Dives, whose house was filled, not with feasting and dancing, but gambling. It was here the sons of fashion came, and the wealthy planters from the rich savannas of the Gulf and the bayous of the Opelousas and the Teche, to meet men deeply versed in all games of chance, throwing with jeweled hands the dice and cards, and clicking the silver faro box, in front of which the numbers on an ebony table were covered with gold and bank-notes and silver, and around which was gathered an eager crowd, with eyes strained and motionless hands, watching each appearance of a card as it was drawn from the box and laid beside its companion. A door at the extreme end of the hall led into a large room, around which were scattered roulette tables and faro tables and keno tables, and tables with cards upon them, and all the modern devices of gambling. A suite of rooms to the left was used as dining-rooms.