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He live hyeah in Noo Yo'k, an' dey tell me whaih I 'quiahed dat I li'ble to fin' somebody hyeah dat know him. So I jes' drapped in." "I know a good many young men from the South. What's your son's name?" "Well, he named aftah my ol' mastah, Zachariah Priestley Shackelford."
On the march Calhoun made a detour toward Danville so as to visit the plantation of his uncle, Colonel Richard Shackelford. He was also in hopes of meeting his cousin Fred. He had heard how Fred had interceded for his father, keeping him from being sent to a Northern prison, and he wished to thank him. He was ashamed of the hatred he had felt toward him, and resolved to make amends for it.
But, father, what of Uncle Dick and Fred?” “Colonel Shackelford is at home minus a leg. The Federal authorities have paroled him. Fred is at home nursing him. Your uncle won imperishable honors on the field of Shiloh. What a pity he has such a son as Fred!” Calhoun’s face clouded. The remembrance of his last meeting with Fred still rankled in his breast. “I never want to see him again,” he said.
He overtook the flying Confederates on the 20th, about sixty miles further north, and they were forced to halt and defend themselves. Shackelford took 500 volunteers on his best horses and pressed the pursuit. The chase lasted four days of almost continuous riding, when the enemy was again overtaken in Jefferson County, some fifteen miles northwest of Steubenville.
General Burnside had collected at Cincinnati the dismounted men of Hobson's command, had given them fresh horses, and had sent them by rail to join Shackelford. They were under command of Major W. B. Way of the Ninth Michigan Cavalry and Major G. W. Rue of the Ninth Kentucky Cavalry. They brought five or six hundred fresh men to Shackelford's aid, and their assistance was decisive.
In speaking of this to General Shackelford, who captured him, Morgan said, bitterly: “Since I have crossed the Ohio I have not seen a single friendly face. Every man, woman, and child I have met has been my enemy; every hill-top a telegraph station to herald my coming; every bush an ambush to conceal a foe.” The people who lived along the route pursued by Morgan will never forget his raid.
Yet with a considerable force Morgan succeeded in making his escape, and started into the interior like a fox for cover. Passing around the advanced column of his enemy, he suddenly came upon the end of Shackelford's column, under Wolford, whom he at once attacked with his usual audacity. Shackelford reversed his column, selected his best horses, and gave pursuit.
“Why, yes,” spoke up Morgan, with a twinkle in his eye, “Captain, Lieutenant Pennington is a cousin of your particular friend, Captain Fred Shackelford, of the Yankee army.” Conway fairly turned purple with rage. “Lieutenant Pennington has no reason to be proud of his relationship to that sneak and spy,” he snorted.
Jones of Georgia was swearing softly and feelingly into Shackelford's ear. Shackelford was sympathetic and nervous as he fingered a large bundle of manuscript in his back pocket. He got up several times and called "Mr. Chairman," but his voice had been drowned in the tumult. Amid it all, calm and impassive, sat the man, who of all others was expected to be in the heat of the fray.
Hobson ordered all his brigades to obey the commands of Shackelford, who was in the lead, and himself sought Judah, whose approach had been unknown to him till firing was heard on the other side of the enemy. Judah had also advanced at daybreak, but in making a reconnoissance he himself with a small escort had stumbled upon the enemy in the fog.
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