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Updated: June 24, 2025
When Murrell was brought to trial his lawyers were able to produce a host of witnesses whose sworn testimony showed that so simple a thing as perjury had no terrors for them.
Unquestionably he had been back of the attack on Norton, had inspired his subsequent murder, and the man's sinister and mysterious power had never been suspected. Carrington knew that the horse-thieves and slave stealers were supposed to maintain a loosely knit association; he wondered if Murrell were not the moving spirit in some such organization.
You knew he had been warned to keep away from her," said Murrell. There was a movement overhead in the loft, the loose clapboards with which it was floored creaked under a heavy tread. "Who's that? Hicks?" asked Ware. "It isn't Hicks never mind who it is, Tom," answered Murrell quietly. "I thought you'd sent him out of the county?" muttered Ware, his face livid.
As soon as the result was known, Carrington raised his rifle; his bullet, truer than his opponent's, drove out the center. Murrell turned on him with an oath. "You shoot well, but a board stuck against a tree is no test for a man's nerve," he said insolently. Carrington was charging his piece. "I only know of one other kind of target," he observed coolly. "Yes a living target!" cried Murrell.
Yancy appeared at the door of the bar and called to him, and as the boy slid from the fence and ran toward him across the yard, the Scratch Hiller sauntered forth to meet him. "I reckon it's all right, Nevvy," he said, "but we don't know nothing about this here Captain Murrell as he calls himself though he seems a right clever sort of gentleman; but we won't mention Belle Plain."
My father had known, in his younger days, a good deal of Murrell by reputation, which was probably the moving cause for his purchase of the book. When a little chap I frequently read it and it possessed for me a sort of weird, uncanny fascination.
Hicks, the Belle Plain overseer, pushed his way to Murrell's side. "Here, John Murrell, ain't you going to show us a trick or two?" he inquired. Murrell turned quickly with a sense of relief. "If you can spare me your rifle," he said, but his face wore a bleak look.
Well, maybe you are with one sort but what do you know about her kind?" jeered the planter. Murrell's brow darkened. "I'll manage her," he said briefly. "You were of some account until this took hold of you," complained Ware. "What do you say? One would hardly think I was offering to make you a present of the best plantation in west Tennessee!" said Murrell.
You must be aware of the prejudices of the planter class, for it is your class. Perhaps I haven't been quite frank at the Barony I felt it was asking too much when you were there. That was a door I didn't want closed to me!" "I imagine you will be welcome at Belle Plain. You are Tom's friend." Murrell bit his lip, and then laughed as his mind conjured up a picture of the cherished Tom.
"What do you think is going to happen here if I take your advice? She'll marry one of these young bloods!" Ware's lips twitched. "And then, Tom, you'll get your orders to move out, while her husband takes over the management of her affairs. What have you put by anyhow? enough to stock another place?" "Nothing, not a damn cent!" said Ware. Murrell laughed incredulously. "It's so!
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