Instantly Andy Yates realized that his rifle was leaning against a laurel back on the opposite side of the road. With instinct he moved quickly across the road toward his gun while Molly watched in silence the bear’s last struggles until he lay silently still in death.
Molly turned, instantly facing the Yank, and, in a high, shrill, excited voice began, “Serves him right. That damn black bear has caused us trouble before, but I was prepared for him today. And I am prepared for every one of you damn meddlesome Yanks, and you will be getting the same dose if you hang around here long. Did you hear me?”
Andy came to himself. With rifle in hand, he bowed and smiled and politely removed his blue cap. “Ma’am,” he said, “I am Sergeant Andy Yates of the Gray Dragoons. And, Ma’am, if all Rebs were like you, little girl, I-I-I believe we would, we would, we would—you’re wonderful, you’re beautiful. I’ve seen you from a distance pass by here several times, but I have not had the pleasure of meeting you, or even knowing your name.”
Molly Campbell broke in. “If that’s what you’re trying to ask, I can’t understand why you would want to know.”
“I ask because I do want to know,” replied the young soldier, blushing but with seriousness showing in his face.
“I’m a Reb,” Molly came back. “And you’ll find we’re all made out of the same kind of stuff. We’d as soon shoot a Yankee as a rat.”
“Molly, you and I have no quarrel,” stated a now very calm Andy Yates.
“Don’t we?” With her left hand over her hip and her right hand holding the long-barreled pistol, her icy stare would have frozen an Eskimo clothed in two bear hides. “Reckon you’d have me think that you are here in that uniform on a friendly mission, would you?”
“As far as you are concerned, Ms. Campbell, I am.”
“Call me Molly,” she interrupted. “That’s my name. Nobody ever called me Ms. Campbell, and I don’t want any soft-voiced, flattering blue coat Yankee to start it now.”
“All right, all right,” Yates agreed. “I’ll call you, and let me assure you, little girl, I want to be a friend.”
“Oh, you do? That’s interesting, indeed! Let me tell you something, Sergeant.” She walked up very close, toe to toe, looked hard into his eyes, her own afire with hatred. “You can’t be a friend of mine and fight my people. You dirty Yankee soldiers have already murdered my father, and my only brother, Levi, has joined Jackson in defense of our people and our homes.”
“And you’re—you are in the service of Lee?” blurted Andy.
“Where do you get that from?” snapped Molly.
“Well—you are, aren’t you?” in a trembling voice, Andy responded.
“If I am, it’s no Yankee-loving black abolitionist’s damn business. Do you think the South will stand idly by and watch you murder our people, burn our homes, and steal our belongings? You can bet your damn Yankee ass that we won’t. If need be, every woman in the South will take up arms against you. Thanks to you and your tenderhearted black abolitionists, I am alone here, Sergeant, but you Yanks will find me able to take care of myself.” She snatched the bridle in her left hand, and in one continuous movement, her right hand grabbed the saddle horn and her left foot went into the stirrup, moving upward to mount Black Demon.
Andy seized her arm, preventing her from mounting, and angrily responded, “You damn little high-and-mighty hothead, I’m going to talk to you and it’s for your own good, and you’re going to listen. In no way could you take care of yourself for one minute against the smallest dragoon. Captain Bloome already suspects you of carrying information to Lee, up on Big Sewell, and soon he will throw you in the stockade. A pretty girl like you—well, you wouldn’t stand a chance. Let me repeat some of the remarks my comrades made about you the last time you rode up the lane. ‘There goes that dear again—up to give Daddy Lee some more interesting news.’ Captain Bloome stood up, walked to the window, and exclaimed, ‘God, men, she is a beauty. I’m afraid we’re going to have to make her a prisoner. She knows too much and has too much business up at Big Sewell. God, can she ride! There isn’t a trooper in the dragoons that can ride like she can.’
“‘If she rode my horn like she can that saddle, she can hang her clothes in my tent tomorrow and become queen of all my domain,’ chirped in Lieutenant Millbaugh and laughed a sinister, villain-like laugh.
“‘Nothing like that, Lieutenant,’ Captain Bloome commanded, with a disgusted look showing in his face. I’ll bet you a sawbuck against that old blue hat of yours that this little girl is as pure as purity itself. So pure and innocent, in fact, that she doesn’t suspect the danger she is in with a troop of roughnecks like us camped practically in her front yard. When we arrest her, we’ll treat her fair and square. I hope we’ll not molest her in any way. She’s too fine.
“‘She’s masculine, fellers,’ remonstrated Lieutenant LaCrosse. ‘She’s mannish. Look at the way she rides, and I bet she’s a hell cat clean through and through.
“‘From here I have to agree with you, Lieutenant, sir,’ interjected Sergeant Castino. ‘But she is as beautiful as a mountain daisy swaying in the gentle breeze. I’ll bet my blue cap against that sawbuck that she’d be a wildcat to live with.’
“‘I’d take that chance,’ Captain Bloom snapped back. ‘She doesn’t look like a wildcat to me. Look how graceful she rides that black horse. She’s angry and stirred up over this damn war. But why wouldn’t she be? Man, she’s beautiful, I tell you! She is a perfect specimen of womanhood and a picture of health and vigor. A mountain daisy, you say, Sergeant? But transplant her in Chicago, in a beautiful gown, and she would become a lily of the valley admired by all the townsfolk.’”
Andy’s voice, now growing more softly, continued, “I’ve told you the Union troops already suspect you of carrying news to Lee, up at his camp, and one of these days they’ll take you in. There are men in our troop that would do anything.” In a softer and mellowed voice, he stuttered, “And a pretty girl like you—well, you wouldn’t have the chance a snowball has in hell! You understand what I’m saying? It may be short of treason, but I’m offering to be that friend.”
Molly turned away. She softened, and her face lit up with a faint smile of suspicion showing about the corners of her mouth. Looking down at the young sergeant, she said, “I thank you, Sergeant Yates, for your kind assistance. You have a good face, and I could believe you have a good heart if it were not for that uniform you wear. I’ve killed too much time, but take this message to your pals. I’m hunting bear, the black abolitionist kind, and I’m not afraid of that wart-nosed old Abe Lincoln and his whole Union army. Tell them too that the Yank that comes to get me had better see me before I see him.”
“Trust me, trust me, Molly,” he pleaded. “I’ve been crazy about you since the day I saw you. Molly, believe me. I’ll convince you.”
A naughty little laugh emerged as she replied, “Your commanding officer should lock you up in his guardhouse. It’s not safe for a lunatic to run loose in these parts.”
“Don’t make fun of me, little girl,” he responded, as he stood gazing helplessly into her enchanting blue eyes. “I’m dead serious. I mean every word of what I say.”
There was a doubting smile on her face and a tone of iron in her voice, “Oh! You do? Really?” For an instant she looked him squarely in the eyes. She jerked the rein, and Black Demon wheeled and started forward at a fast gait that would carry Molly on her last trip up the James River-Kanawha Turnpike to General Lee’s camp on Big Sewell Mountain.
In 1933 or 1934, this big white oak began to die. It was cut down, and the smallest pieces were made into souvenirs and sold for charity. I was told the tree was over three hundred years old.