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Updated: May 7, 2025
A spurred boot under the ragged skirt pierced the horse’s flank; the hand that came from the apple basket fired the cocked pistol almost before the sentry knew it, and the picket fell dead. The reserve stood as if stupefied. That night I gave Quantrell, for Col. Hays, a plan showing the condition of affairs in Independence. The morning of the 11th the attack was made and Col.
So stealthy had been their approach that they had cut the sentry off from us before alarming him, and he fled into the timber in a shower of lead. There was a heavy knock on the outer door, and a deep voice shouted: “Make a light.” Quantrell, listening within, fired through the panel. The visitor fell.
With a birth and training such as this, what could be expected for the surviving Quantrell men? They scattered over all the frontier, from Texas to Minnesota, and most of them lived in terror of their lives thereafter, with the name of Quantrell as a term of loathing attached to them where their earlier record was known.
"Set as I'll ever be. Let's go." Alan looked around to see if anybody he knew might be watching. There was no one around. Quantrell started walking, and Alan fell in behind him. "I hope you know where you're going," Alan said. "Because I don't." Kevin pointed down the long winding street.
Quantrell believed that it was harder to trail one man than a company, and every little while the company would break up, to rally again at a moment’s notice. In March Quantrell planned to attack Independence.
One of them, led by Quantrell, crossed the Kansas line, captured the city of Lawrence, and butchered two hundred of its peaceable inhabitants, while the border towns and cities of Iowa and Illinois were greatly alarmed for their safety. So intolerable did the situation become, that the Radicals from all parts of the State met in conference and decided to send a delegation to ask Mr.
The black flags of Quantrell and of Lane, of border ruffian and jayhawker, were guidons under which quarter was unknown, and mercy a forgotten thing. Warfare became murder, and murder became assassination. Ambushing, surprise, pillage and arson went with murder; and women and children were killed as well as fighting men.
Name's Alan Donnell, and this is Roger Bond. Yours?" "I'm Kevin Quantrell." He was short and stocky, heavily tanned, with a square jaw and a confident look about him. "I'm out of the starship Encounter, just back from the Aldebaran system. Been in the Enclave two weeks now with a lot more ahead of me." Alan whistled. "Aldebaran! That's let's see, 109 years round trip.
Horses were needed, and ammunition. There were plenty of horses in Missouri, but the ammunition presented more of a problem. Capt. Quantrell, George Todd and myself, attired as Union officers, went to Hamilton, a small town on the Hannibal and St. Joseph Railroad, undetected by the company of the Seventh United States Cavalry in camp there, although we put up at the principal hotel.
Secretary, means war and war means barbarism. You ask an impossible thing, Mr. Secretary. This secession or revolution, or whatever you call it, cannot conquer without violence. Your young Confederacy wants victory. Men must be killed.” “What would you do, Captain Quantrell, were yours the power and the opportunity?” inquired the secretary. “Do, Mr. Secretary?
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