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Including his life story originally written by C. A. Clifton
Transcribed by Junior L. McKay
From the Gilmer Mirror Newspaper

INTRODUCTION
The story "Always A Rebel" was found printed in over 15 editions of the "The Gilmer Weekly Mirror" newspaper. According to the article, the newspaper bought the publishing rights for this story from the author Rev. R. A. Clifton, a local minister. Mr. McKay has transcribed this story so that it may be more accessible to researchers and to preserve the story for others. The original article was found on microfilm in the Gilmer County Library and was of very poor quality. No other copies exist according to The Gilmer Mirror newspaper.

Included with this story is some additional information obtained from the research of Junior L. McKay to help place Louis Anderson Latch within his family tree. Mr. McKay welcomes correspondence from any researcher with ties to this family.

ALWAYS A REBEL
The Saga of Daddy Latch
as told by him to
R. A. Clifton
Copyrighted by R A Clifton

CHAPTER I.

"For four or five years I was so mean the dogs wouldn?t bark at me. I?m not going to tell you all about them," said Daddy Latch that sizzling August afternoon in 1937 as he told of his life in the Jesse James gang. That morning this virile nonagenarian had been riding a horse and building barb-wire fence. That afternoon he was sitting alone at a little table playing dominoes with himself and keeping the score against himself; as he said, "Lest I cheat myself." Sitting before the cold ashes in the open fireplace his eyes sparkled as he lived, vividly, the "yesterdays."

Daddy Latch is short in stature, strongly built and has long curly white hair. Ninety three years of robust, alert living has not dimmed the keenness of his eyes, nor daunted the spirit of the man in whom the tides of life ran and still run high.
For many years, dire, blood-sealed vows closed his lips and self-preservation hid this story. At long last, after more than seventy years, after all the others are dead and none could be hurt by the telling , this old soldier consents to tell the story of his early life. It is a story, life along winding rivers with many seeds in its flood, strange silt and weed, and now and then a rare flower. It is the story of one who ran with the outlaws Jesse James and Cole Younger. "Now don?t put that down," he would say, so that many things which he told must still be withheld. "Must I tell the Bad? It?s pretty rough . I don?t like to tell that," were frequent words which came to his lips.

Latch was a soldier and won distinction during the Civil War. Under different aliases, he lived during the hectic days of the Reconstruction and drank great lusty draughts from the spring of experience in those troubled times. As Louis Latch, the soldier, he was cited for conspicuous bravery, and took prisoner a woman spy; as Jim Lackey, the bushwhacker, he had a price on his head; as Kinky, the outlaw, he was hunted by officers; as Louis Anderson, the stage driver, he fought outlaws; as Louis Anderson, he steam-boated on the Mississippi; as Louis Latch, he was a Pinkerton detective and caught a famous murderess; then he ran a sawmill, was elected sheriff of Upshur County, Texas; and now he is "Daddy Latch" to the whole county.

Daddy Latch was born in Gordon County, Georgia, near Augusta, on December 7, 1844, just five days after the death of his father. His widowed mother was left with six boys and two girls. All of the boys later became Confederate soldiers, and two of them, Jim and George, were killed in the battle of Shiloh.

I never went to school but; _ member that the courthouse there was under a post-oak tree in the wilderness. We lived three miles from school. I was the baby, and four days were enough for me. The school was in a log house with no floor. There was a big fireplace across most of one end. I had a girl for a neighbor, I wasn?t but nine years old and one day I was shooting paper wads. I kinda puckered my lips and shot one. It hit the girl in the eye. Professor Gant said, "What did you shoot the girl in the eye for?" I must have looked blank because I sure was surprised when he whipped me. I was still sobbing when I got home. Because mother was a widow and I was the baby, the family got mad. I quit school. Later I went to a writing school in Texas, after I got married.

"I never cussed but once in my life. I got licked for that, so I quit. That whipping stayed with me a long time."
"I was just a boy when I bet on my first horse race," he continued. "I grew up in Arkansas. One day I drove an ox team up to a country store. A man asked me if the oxen were mine, I answered, ?Yes?." He said, "Do you want to bet them on this horse race?" I said, "no." He asked my brother if they were mine and brother nodded, "Yes". Then he asked me what they were worth and I told him the yoke of steers was worth forth dollars. They were going to run a horse named Broke Leg against a little mare. He asked me which I would bet on and I said, "The mare." Then he offered me two to one. My brother shrugged his shoulders and said, "Bud, you?d better not bet. You?ll lose your steers. Then this man offered me three to one. That was more than I could stand. I waved my hand and said, "All right." Broke Leg was a mighty fast horse, but something had happened to him once and he was tricky. It looked like he was going to beat that mare, but he stumbled and she came in first. I collected one hundred and twenty dollars. I didn?t let my mother find it out for a long time. She sure did call me out about betting. But I just never could stand to see a horse race without betting something on it. My mother had died before I joined the army.

CHAPTER II.

At Greensboro, the county seat of Green County, Arkansas, Daddy Latch began his war career when he was 17 years old. He joined the 8th Arkansas Cavalry under Joe Shelby in 1861. General Price was the Brigadier General in command. Captain Grayson of Parkers Cross Road, Mississippi was in charge. Latch was placed under Captain Adair who was a year younger that his impetuous private. Daddy is very proud of his confederate record. He was wounded three times; at Nashville, Tenn., at Macon, Ga., and at Parkers Cross Roads. In a "hand fight" at Parkers Cross Roads where sabers and bayonets were the weapons used, he was wounded in the leg. At Macon, he was wounded in the head, and at Nashville, in the chest.

"I knew Martha Chamberlain; she was one of the South?s famous women of the war" went on Daddy Latch. "After the War, she came to Upshur County to live. Later she died and was buried here. The first time I saw her was at Black River. General Forrest was about to catch the Yankees. They beat him to Black River and crossed the bridge and burned it behind them. Just as we rode up, the bridge was falling in. While the horse were blowing a little, we watched the blazing timbers fall in the water. General Forrest was sitting on his horse with his head down, frowning a little. He just hated to see those Yankees escape. Martha and her mother came up. General Forrest said to Mrs. Chamberlain, "Is there a ford near her?" She said. " There?s one the cows use." Then she started to tell him how to get there. Martha looked at me and I tipped my hat at her. I could tell she was admiring the soldiers. Then Martha said, "I?ll go show him the cow ford." Her mother said, "No, Martha, you ought not." Martha said, "He?s a Confederate gentleman." I was quick in those days. I jumped down from Dolly, my horse, and helped her up on my horse. She rode sidewise. She wasn?t but 14 years old and wore a long skirt. She rode ahead to the cow ford and crossed the river first. Most of the horses stopped to drink. The water splashed all about Martha in the sun light. She was mighty pretty. General Forrest sent her back with a detail. We went on after the Yankees. They were camped and were not looking for us. They surrendered without a shot. I never saw Martha again till after she was married and moved to Upshur County.

The old man talked on; "At Macon Georgia, I was shot in the head. You can see the scar there now." And he pointed to a spot about as big as a silver dollar. "We were ordered to charge. Before we started, we drew our sabers, sometimes one on the sabers would stick in getting it out. With the horses running it was a sight to see those sabers flashing in the sun. Something knocked my hat off. It felt like somebody had him me on the head with a sledgehammer." Dolly was running and I knew I was going to stick to her as long as I could. The wound bled a lot and I couldn?t see a thing. They laughed at me for riding blind into battle. But I wasn?t going to be left behind. The doctor just tied a rag around my head and I went on with the company.

"There wasn?t any town at Parkers Cross Roads, Mississippi. The people were having a camp meeting there. Riding through the woods, we were listening to the folks singing. The advanced guards were together before either knew it. We were in the Yankees before we knew it. It was a hand-fight. We just grabbed sabers and bayonets. Didn?t anybody shoot, we were afraid we would hurt the church folks, the women and children. General Davis was the Yankee commander. We ran the Yankees through the woods. General Price was the Confederate Commander, he was a good General, but he had one eye out. It was shot out. We called him "Pop".

"We broke up the meeting that day. You could hear men fighting all around, grunting when they hit or were hit. That?s where I was wounded in the leg.

CHAPTER III

"They took me to a hospital, sent and laid me on a blanket. I began to ache all over, and fever set up. My leg swelled up and became as black as a hat. The surgeon said my leg would have to come off."

Old time medicine, especially surgery, was both rough and primitive in the time of the Civil War. There was no chloroform or opiate to deaden pain. Strong hands held tortured patients while the flesh was peeled back. Then rough saws got the _ _, and the skin was sewed down over the stump so that it would heal if "laudable". Puss set up, otherwise death came after intense suffering.

Daddy Latch had a brother who was a surgeon in the Confederate army. Daddy tells about it. "I could hear men groaning and taking on. When they took me to the surgeons tent I could smell the hot blood. They had me on the table and were fixing to cut my leg off when Bud came to see me. I asked him to not let them take my leg off. He looked at my leg and said, "Better have it off." I said, " Bud, I?d rather be dead with two legs than alive with one. Then he said, "Boys let him alone." Maybe he said that because I was still the baby to him and he had helped to spoil me. The surgeon in charge ordered him out of the tent while they continued the operation. Bud went to his tent and got his six-shooter and came back. He ordered everybody out of the tent. He took me under his left arm, I was kinda light in those days. He kept his six-shooter in his right hand and took me to his tent. He fixed up a bucket to drip salt water on my leg and it began to get better. After a while I got well. Maybe it was the saving of that leg that me like to dance so well.

"In a few weeks I went back to my company and found that one of the boys had kept Dolly for me."
"It was near the end of the war when I caught the woman spy. Her name was Angeline Mitchell. I never arrested but three women in my life and all of them were good looking. It was at Memphis, Tenn., my hair was long and I had whiskers; they?d blow in the wind when we rode. We didn?t have any combs or razors. We were getting awfully ragged. Our horses were mighty thin too. We rode into Memphis one day. A mighty pretty woman with hoop shirts on, was watching us. Somebody pointed her out and told Captain Adair she was a spy. Captain Adair was sorta bashful around women. She looked like at him kinda questioning like, and he dared me to arrest her. I tipped my hat at her and said, "I?ll have to ask you to go with me Ma?am." When they searched her, they found she was a spy and had two six-shooters under her hoop skirt. I carried her to Cape Girardeau, Mo. I never did know what became of her. It was close to the end of the war.

"My mother?s sister smuggled arms to the South. She was arrested as a spy. She stayed in prison for six months and then was exchanged. I never knew that till the war was over."

CHAPTER IV

The proudest hour of Daddy?s life was at Nashville, TN. The fires glowed hot; life was vital and sure in that most alive moment of this flaming soul. The Yankee under Curtis had captured Nashville. The Confederates were determined to recapture it. Nashville was on a hill. It was the apex of an oblique triangle. A message setting the hour of attach had to be sent across from General Price on one leg of the triangle to General Braggs on the other. The messenger had to pass in rifle range and across the front of the entire Yankee army. Latch told how he carried the message.

"The Confederate?s held a council of war. General Shelby said to Captain Adair, "Do you have a man who can carry a message across?" Captain Adair replied, "I have a man who can carry it to hell and back if his horse will stand up." An orderly came and told me that I was wanted at headquarters, mounted. He was nervous and in a hurry. I knew something was up. I reported at once and was told what was wanted. I said I would do my best. I stripped the saddle off my pony and put a sureingle on her. They gave me the message. I passed by the drum and got a real handkerchief and tied it around it my head.

"With the tap of the drum I started. I had to angle across the front of the Yankees. They were about four hundred yards away in the city. We were in the woods. I rode straight toward Bragg. The drums were rolling and when the Yankees saw me, they knew something was up. Dolly running and I just laid down on her. There must have been five hundred shots fired at me then. Not one touched me although I could hear the bullets sing all around me. The Confederates saw I had orders, so I rode straight to Braggs headquarters. When I rode up to his tent, I jumped down and said, "Here?s a note". I asked him to put a blanket on my pony, she was so hot and sweaty. Then I told Bragg, "I?ve got to get back." Bragg said, "You?ve done your part. Drink a little whisker and lie down." I refused the whiskey but he insisted and I took a little drink; it warmed me all over. I wasn?t scared but I was trembling. I didn?t feel I could ride Dolly. While I was lying there resting, the cannons were beginning to roar and I remember the wind was blowing from the lines and I could smell the powder smoke; it stung my nose a little. After I stayed a while, I started back. The Confederate saluted me with three shots. The Yankees did too. I just trotted back in from of them. Not a shot was fired at me as I returned.

"When I rode back to my command, our flag was up, flying in the wind. The horses were restless and the men were stirring around eager-like. I knew battle was about to begin. I rode up to the Captain and asked what was going on. He said, "You can?t go with us, you?ve done your part." I said, "I?m going where you go." I went anyhow. The Yankees had captured our breastworks and filled them with Negro soldiers. We had to get the Negroes out at once. Somebody said, "Lets go." We charged. The cannons opened up. When the Negroes saw us coming, they were so scarred that they fired straight up in the air. As we rode up on the breastworks, we just pumped down on them with our six-shooters. Not many of them got away. Once in a while we?d see one start to run. Then somebody would take a carbine and we would see the Negro topple over. Not many of them got away. Bragg?s flanked them off the right and we flanked them on the left and ran the Yankees out. They couldn?t hold long.

"That?s the day I got shot in the chest. I bled a lot but didn?t keep me out of the fight. It left a scar about as big as a dollar. When I started off to the War, my sister made me take her Testament with me. I couldn?t read, but she thought I could get somebody to read to me. The bullet went through a corner of that Testament and through several envelopes which I had in my pocket, letters which I had gotten from home, and didn?t hurt me much. It was a clean wound. I was laid up about six weeks.

CHAPTER V

I saw Jeff Davis once when he came to inspect the army. I saw Robert E. Lee two or three times. They never had much to do with us common privates. After Nashville, I went up to Kansas City.

"We marched up in sight in site of Kansas City. There was nothing but Yankees everywhere. They were four or five to our one. Cole Younger had previously joined our company under Captain Adair, so that he knew me. He camped at Popular Bluff and at Kansas City. One morning he got up on a stump and told Shelby what he was going to do. He said, "Gentleman, I?m going by myself with a little squad." Then we split up. Younger had a company of two or three hundred men. I didn?t know whether Captain Adair knew about me or not. At Blue Ridge the fight was headed by Cole Younger. That?s where we ambushed the Yankees. There was a road about three yards long with a high bank on each side. We lay down and waited until they got in this road. It was full of Yankees. Then we rose up, formed a line on each side and opened up on them. We killed all most all of them.

"We knew when Lee surrendered that the Yankees had whipped us. When we left Poplar Bluff for the South we had no trouble reaching Jefferson, Texas. We disbanded there. We were camped in a glade outside of that city. General Shelby got up on a stump and made a speech. He said, "I?m going to Mexico." That was March 18, 1865. Part of the boys went with him to Mexico. Part went home. Part of then came through Gilmer. There were about 1200 men. About 600 of them went to Mexico. Joe Shelby never surrendered. When he left Jefferson, he wrapped his flag around a rock and buried it in the bottom of a creek, somewhere.

"I rode on back home to Jacksonport, AR. I looked up the family. My mother had been dead since the year before I joined the army. One of my brothers had been killed at Shiloh. His widow with her little baby was trying to make a crop. I told her as long as I lived and she stayed single, that I would make a living for her. I planed six acres of cotton and fourteen of corn. Then she got married and that left me free."

In a few months after Latch?s return home, began the backwash of the Civil War, the shame of the North. The Reconstruction, an insolent cruelty, was laid upon the southern people. A vast hegira of rapacious Carpet-baggers was spewed upon the South. Feeling that having excepted defeat, they should be left in peace to rehabilitate the country; suddenly the Southern people found themselves robbed, plundered, and even the little they had left was being taken. Evicted homeowners, cursing in justice, stunned, purposeless, homeless, hopeless, betrayed, found themselves in shackley wagons, moving, but with no where to go. Peace had brought no rift in the clouds. The sky was blacker that ever.

Daddy mused a little, then said, "I guess it was the Harrison affair that started the whole thing. Harrison was the Major of his regiment. His leg had been lost in the war. He had three daughters, Mat, Lucy, and Molly. One day Molly was plowing, the others were hoeing. A Negro man, named Tom, was setting on top of the rail fence making fun of them. "You haf to hu the cotton now. " he said. Then he laughed at them. The girls were mad and scarred. Lots of stories were flying around of what the ex-slaves were doing to white women. Molly plowed up close to where he was, the other girls were there with hoes. I guess Molly was desperate, she reached over and took a hoe from Lucy, then she straightened up and hit Tom with the hoe. He sure was surprised, but he dodged. She meant to split his head, but only cut an ear off. He ran off hollering. There was a company of Negro solders stationed at Jacksonport. They were wild that night. Captain Bryant, captain of the Negro company was killed. The Negroes and Yankees were camping together.

CHAPTER VI

On Saturday, I went to Jacksonport. It was the county seat. We all looked kinda seedily. We were desperate and hungry. All the crops we made were stolen from us. That day I saw a Negro put out his hand and shove a white girl off the sidewalk into the street. She tried to grasp at something to hold onto; her hand spread out and splashed in the mud. She was scared. Her face went white, she kinda of flushed and turned pale again. Her lips were trembling and she didn?t say a word. She looked at me, I was quick as a cat in those days. I punched the Negro out. When he came to, he moaned and crawled off; he was too scared to run.

"All that afternoon the white men gathered in bunches and talked about things. They were muttering together, talking in secret. Everybody was dangerous. Something had to be done. That night we had a meeting and decided to organize a KU KLUX KLAN," A defiant recklessness came upon Latch that night. He continued, "I told them, I?m white , I?m free, and I was wild."

Then humbly, he said, "God forgave me much." Came next from him a long pause, for in recollection his thoughts were troubled. "Must I tell the bad? It?s pretty rough. Do I have to tell it all? For four or five years I was so mean the dogs wouldn?t bark at me. I?m not going to tell you all about them bad parts," he decided; and still he waited awhile. Finally he continued. "I think every man ought to tell his life story and swear to it before a notary public.

That night meeting appointed a committee to see about organizing a KU KLUX KLAN. This committee sent Daddy Latch to Cottonwood Point, Miss. to get the working points of the KU KLUX. There he was taken out secretly, at night, blindfolded, and led into the middle of a silent group on men. When the hoodwink was removed, the first thing he saw was the flare of a fiery cross, and next a group of white, ghostlike figures in robes. He stayed at Cottonwood Point long enough to memorize the secrets and working parts of the KU KLUX KLAN. He then returned home and organized the KU KLUX KLAN at Jacksonport, Arkansas. Having pondered several minutes, Daddy continued. "The Negroes were awfully mean. We did not kill them. We just scared them. Once in a while some got killed, but it was their own fault. They?d resist. We would take sacks, rubber lined, that would hold two or three buckets of water. We would put these sacks under our hoods and ride with a sheet over our horses. We would ride up to a Negro?s house and ask for a bucket of water to drink. We claimed we were dead men from hell and it was so hot we just wanted a drink. We would drink about two buckets of water and ask for a third. That was more than the Negroes could stand. They would began to run.
"The KU KLUX went to New Orleans once for a demonstration. We muffled our horses feet and rode up on the sidewalks in our robes. Twelve Negroes were killed their that night. We didn?t do it, but we bore credit for doing it. We were blamed for everything that happened." There came a long pause while Daddy Latch scratched his head. "Then ___ no, don?t put that down. I believe that had better not be written". The stream was still turgid. Memory was bitter.

CHAPTER VII

A black cloud was looming on the horizon. Suddenly it became funnel shape, and swift as a tornado, the worst trouble of his life dipped into his affairs. It left lines on his face which ought not to have been there. After the cyclone struck the rain came and a long period of flood distorted the stream.

Daddy?s voice was low and he talked slow as he continued. "An ugly thing happened. Frank Moore and I were trying to make a crop. My trouble came unexpected. I wish I could forget it. We always went to town on Saturday?s. We were riding home together that afternoon, it was down a country road. Neither of us had been drinking. We passed a Negro cabin near the road. I said to him, "Frank, that?s the Negro that got your meal sack." He swore and said, "How do you know?" I said, "The miller told me." His voice was ominous and he cussed some more, then his face was stormy, and he said, "By God I?m going to have my meal sack." Fate uses strange tools to weave the web of life. In this particular locality it was a seamless meal sack, stolen from a poverty stricken, defeated man which became the flying shuttle that released the desperate, the hopelessness, the repressed anger, and turned it all to savagery and despair, and utterly ruthless thing, reckless of consequences. Somberly Latch kept talking. "When we rode up to the cabin the Negro was chopping wood at the wood pile. Frank said, " Where?s my meal sack?" The Negro said, "I ain?t got it." Frank said, "Yes you have too." The Negro said, "How do you know I stole it?" Frank said, " The miller told you did." and then the Negro said, "The miller is a damned liar." Frank said, "Don?t call a white man a liar." The Negro began to cuss us and ran into the cabin for a musket. I could hear it rattle as he dragged it off the hooks over the door.

"Frank had jumped down off his horse and was at the door when the Negro came out with the musket in his hands. I got down too, because I didn?t know what might happen. He was my friend. Frank grabbed that musket, knocked the Negro down with it, and jerked the Negro over to the chop block and cut his head off with the ax. I can still see him jerking around and flopping with the blood spurting all over everything; like a chicken with its head chopped off. Some of the blood spurted hot on my hand.

"Dolly through up her head at the smell of hot blood. She was an old war horse. All the time I was trying to get Frank not to do that. But he didn?t care. Nothing could stop him. That?s what finally cleared me; when the Negro?s wife was put on the stand she told the truth and the prosecuting attorney said he didn?t have any case.

"We got on our horses and didn?t say a word as we rode away. Frank looked kinda white. He wiped the sweat off his face and drew a deep breath. We knew we were in for it. We walked our horses off slow. We knew they?d be after us pretty soon. We went by home and got our guns."

CHAPTER VIII

The next six months were ones of rampant recklessness. A few times the two would be able to slip in at night so that Frank could see his wife. Moore?s and Latch?s hair was uncut and uncombed. There clothes were un-kept. They would lie in thickets during the days and watch for the Negroes and Yankees. At night they changed their hiding places. Daddy said, "Once we had been up for three nights. It was cold. We were tired and hungry. We hadn?t had anything to eat for three days, we just tightened our belts a little." Frank said, "Lets rest." We didn?t unsaddle, just tied the halters to our left arms and let the horses graze. We lay down. I sorta dozed off. Dolly jerked her head up; that waked me. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. The Negroes were coming over the hill.

"We started to run, but Dolly got tangled in some vines. They were shooting at us like everything. We just looked at each other. We didn?t say a word. There was no way out. We jerked our horses around, made a right wheel, and charged them shooting. Three Negroes were killed there and eight wounded. I don?t say I killed any of them, neither do I say I didn?t. I just don?t know."

The pursuit was coming closer. Frank and Daddy were getting tired. They couldn?t stay hidden and remain in the neighborhood. For two years they were on the scout. They never slept in a house during that time. Five hundred dollars reward was offered for capturing each of them. The reward was raised to fifteen hundred dollars Daddy Latch said. "We were blamed for killing seventy five to one hundred Negroes. We were harassed all the time. Frank would go to see his wife and baby. Belount, Frank?s oldest brother said one day, "Don?t come here. The Yankees come here every night." But we went. Frank and his wife got to meeting in a house down by the end of the lane. One night I saw the Yankees coming up the lane. We jumped our horses and ran. Of course they shot at us. Always we were afraid of being bushwhacked for reward.

"One night we went into an old house. It was used for a barn and was full of fodder. There was no fence around it. We went into it and tied the horses and fed them. It was sleeting. The weather was awfully cold. We went to sleep. Then the Yankees came. They surrounded the house and ordered us to surrender. I proposed that if they would let us come out and not hurt us and take us to stand trial that we would come out. A Negro was in command. He said that he wouldn?t agree to anything, that they had us this time. Frank whispered to me, "It seems like they got us. Lets take some of them with us." The chimney of the house was off at the mantle. We were both well armed. Frank said, " keep talking. (I was always the talker). I?ll unlocked the door and said nothing. "Cock your guns. When I open the door we?ll jump to the sides and commence shooting. If they don?t take us I?ll meet you in Jacksonport." He opened the door and I jumped to the side by the chimney corner and stooped and we both began shooting. As the guns flashed we could see them falling on each side of the door. The powder smoke got awfully thick there. We were coughing in it. Five were killed and three wounded as we came out fanning our six-shooters there. Mind, I don?t say I killed any of them.

"In about six months Frank Moore went to New Mexico and I went with Jesse James and Cole Younger. Frank Moore became Jackson and we corresponded for a good many years. I don?t know if he is still alive or not." For fear it might involve a friend or his children, Daddy Latch would not reveal where Frank went other than to the great state of New Mexico. Daddy Latch never say him again.

CHAPTER IX

It was evident that in his memory, the stream was still swollen and malodorous, as Latch continued his narrative. "If it hadn?t been for the killing of so many Negroes after that one, I?d a come home. There was no evidence against me. My aunt lived in Missouri. I went to her house and she called me Jim Lackey. Here I rested awhile, had my hair cut, and my whiskers trimmed, and got some better clothes. My aunt knew the Youngers before they turned so bad. Her I got better aquatinted with Cole Younger. I also met Jesse James. He was mean. All these men were gentle mannered and soft voiced. They had a sort of slouching gait. Not one of them showed on his face the desperate record he had earned. Because of my hair they called me Kinky. Jesse James had a little head and small eyes. He was mean. Anybody who every say him would never forget him. Cole Young was the boss. We all would do what he said. He was the captain. He had joined my regiment during the war, that?s where I first knew him. The Youngers were good. Frank James was a good man also. I didn?t stay with them long. We----, now don?t put that down."

A last trip together with the outlaws did not suit Kinky. Riding out from a certain town, one of the gang was wounded. Jesse James wanted to leave him. Kinky called that a mean trick. There was a quarrel. Kinky had all his life stayed by his friends. Shaking his head in discuss, Kinky went on alone. Little of what happened in those few months with the outlaws was told. Certain crimes never go out of date. Caution was woven into the very fiber of Latch?s being through hard years. Daddy can smell danger like a war horse can powder smoke.

Skipping many years Daddy said, "I stayed four days with Frank James in 1906. Then I was in Dallas with a man named Chandler in 1907. Cold Younger was there with a carnival. Chandler said, "Lets go see Cole Younger and see if he recognizes you." Cole was in a barber shop when we got there; he was in the chair getting a shave. I stood there and said, "Do you know who I am?" He looked at me a little while and then said, "Its old Kink." Younger gave me twenty tickets to all his shows. He said everything was on him while I was there. Another time I went to Dallas to see Frank Younger. He was city Marshall in Dallas. I stayed all night with him. I knew Bob, Cole, and Frank Younger."

The tradition that Jesse James escaped still persists. Daddy Latch said, "Of course he wasn?t murdered like it was reported. We all knew that. My aunt told me all about it. It was just the way they had of stopping the chase." Latch went to see the man who had been going over the country on a vaudeville circuit for several years. Claiming that he is the original Jesse James, the bank and train robber. Daddy said, "I saw him. I knew it was he." But sharp and quick as a flash he said, "But I couldn?t swear it. Jesse James had a small head and little eyes. I don?t believe there was ever any
other like him. I don?t believe anybody who ever knew him could be mistaken about him." I went up to him and asked him, "Are you as mean as you was?" He said, "No, I joined the church and pray every night." Then I said, " How about Jim Lackey?" That?s the name I went under for awhile, and under that name the reward was offered for me as an outlaw. Jesse motioned me to come over to him. Then he began calling names of places where he went. At Scattersville, Missouri we went together on a foraging detail while we were in the army. We and our horses were starving and we were sent to get something for the horses and men. He did not remember if we were in the same regiment. Then I said, "How was old man Younger killed?"; That was our pass word. He said, "He was backed up against a tree and shot." That was a mistake, Younger was hung out where they were gambling hogs. My aunt was there and knew all about it. It was this killing of old man Younger by home made Yankees that made Cole Younger and the other boys become outlaws. They were trying to get the man who killed their father. (If this were the original Jesse James, why did he forget so important a fact as the ruthless manner of the murdering of Younger, his uncle, which crime was the last straw, the direct act, that made the Younger?s and James? outlaws? And why did he forget the password?) Jesse James took me to his room and we talked a long while. I asked him what he did with his sixshooters. He showed me several guns. Then he showed me one with nine crosses on it. "That?s the one that done the work," he said.

CHAPTER X

Then Daddy Latch went back to the time when he left the James and Younger gang. In those days he was nervous and quick of motion. There were lines on his face and strain in his eyes. The strain of a hunted man. He had his hair closed cropped and was close shaven. About him was the open air smell of horses and leather. He left he James and Younger gang at Popular Bluff, Missouri and rode down into a part of Arkansas which was new to him. He went where not even his family nor his sweetheart would know where he was in the fall of 1867, he got a job driving the stage coach from Batesville to Pocahanhas. Here for awhile he was contented to listen to the creaking harnesses, the cracking whip, and the protesting praning stage coach.

At one of the stops on the route a Mrs. Newland was the post mistress. She was the lonesome widow of a Yankee officer. Latch chuckled as he said, "She was good to me till she found out I was a Rebel. I never was reconstructed," he bragged. Then he continued, "One day when I came in with the mail her face was all puckered and determined as she met me. I had noticed that her wrinkles were beginning to show plain. She said in a shrill voice, "Ain?t you a Rebel? I?ve been told that you are a Rebel soldier." And I said, " I?m a Rebel, but I?m a gentlemen." She said, "How did you get on the stage as a driver? You can?t carry the mail back." So she refused to sign a way bill and wouldn?t let me have the mail sacks. Just before I went out I looked at her and saw in her eyes triumpt with a little bit of regret and reproach mixed in. She had got even with me."

Latch?s face was downcast and his shoulders slumped as he drove to Smithville, one of the stops on his routes. At Smithville a Mr. Thornberg was the post master in charge of all the stages passing through. Daddy said, "When I got to the end of the run and he saw I didn?t have the mail, Mr. Thornburg asked, "What does this mean?" I told him about Mrs. Newland. Thornburg was a Yankee shoulder and ran a store where the stages always stopped. He liked me. He looked at me and kinda smiled. He knew it meant a lot to me to carry the mail. He said, "What is your name?" I said, "Louis Anderson Latch." He winked at me and said, "Mr. Latch you are fired, but here?s my freight, Louis Anderson. "I?ve hired him to drive the other end of the line." From then on I was called Louis Anderson till I got out of my trouble. For the next six months I drove the mail and drove the stagecoach for Mr. Thornburg. He got word to Mrs. Newland that he had fired me and hired a Mr. Anderson to carry the mail. For nearly a year all told, I carried the mail and drove the stagecoach. It would carry nine passengers and took six horses to pull it. The horses were all black. I always drove an a trot or run. That?s what saved me when they tried to rob the stagecoach one day.

"That day we had started up a long hill and that slowed the horses down to a walk. I had nine passengers inside. Will Jordan, a gambler, was setting on the seat with me, on the outside. Two men came out of the brush and grabbed the lead horses by the bit. They told us to halt. I tightened the lines, grabbed the whip, and told the gambler to hold on. I began to whip the horses. They started to run and the coach began to bounce. Will Jordan took a derringer out of his pocked and shot, he shot the finger off of one of the robbers. That one fell and the other turned loose. I ran the horses till they were in a white lather. Next day the officers tracked that outlaw down with blood hounds and caught him, so I decided it was best to move on.

CHAPTER XI

The stream was still troubled and the water rolled. The reward of fifteen hundred dollars hung over him. Stage-coaching had grown monotonous. More than a year had passed. Though he was clean shaven and nobody had seen him since the war without whiskers, he was afraid he had been recognized. He thought it was wise to change locations. He got a job on a steamboat. For eighteen months he worked on the river ways while steam-boating was at its height and Mark Twain was the daily call of the river pilots. All though these years the memory of Miss Betty Sweet, the girl who had lost faith in him during his trouble, stayed with him. Like the echo of the boats whistle across the water and into the forest along the river bank, deep in hoarse, this memory vibrated in every part of his being. She did not know where he was. He came back to Jacksonport, Arkansas and got a job on the boat to be near her. Because he wore a cap, was clean shaven, wore slouching clothes, like all boat men, and was easy of motion, no one recognized him.

Latch worked on the John D. Perry, a side-wheeler, then on the Prairie Queen, a stern-wheeler. He traveled from Jacksonport, Arkansas to New Orleans, Louisiana. The John D. Perry did not make the trip all the way to New Orleans. It was fired with wood and had to get the wood in Arkansas. Latch started as a ?slush?. Then he was promoted to a ?tender? and his job was to carry food and whiskey to the pilot and engineers of the Prairie Queen. He finally became the ?big boy? on the Prairie Queen. This latter job was similar to that of ?purser?on a modern coach liner. His wages grew from twenty six to sixty dollars a month. Talking of his steam-boat life, Daddy said, "The river was always damp. You could always smell the firs and hides and Negroes. Give the Negroes a taste of liquor and they would sing like everything while we loaded or unloaded. Whenever a fog shut down we would go to slow so that we wouldn?t even make a wave on the river. Lots of times we would run aground and it seemed like the vibration would shake the boat to pieces before the engines pulled us off the bar. Gambling went on all the time on these boats. Captain Wheat of the Prairie Queen opposed it. But the lines upheld it so he couldn?t do anything. We had lots of races on the river. The steam boats were racing all the time. The fastest boat would get all the passengers. I saw the Natchez and the Robert E. Lee. (that was the most famous of the races on the Mississippi River.) The Robert E. Lee was a companion ship to the John D. Perry. Much money was bet on that race. We went along to help. The Robert E. Lee was behind and the captain had burned bacon to get up more steam. The flames came out of the smoke stack.

"One day in the jostling crowd at the boat landing, Betty recognized me. She didn?t say anything, but Colonel Beavers, a lawyer, hunted me up and offered to take my case for nothing and get me free. Finally I went in and surrendered after being on the dodge for several years. On the day of the trial when we went in the court room my friends were all there. I could see Betty but she didn?t speak to me. The prosecuting attorney didn?t have but one witness, the Negro woman. She told the truth. She told that the Negro man cussed us and came out with a musket in his hands. It never would have been so bad if Frank hadn?t chopped his head off. She swore that I tried to get Frank not to do it. When she got through testifying the prosecuting attorney stood up and kinds shrugged his shoulders and said, "That?s the only witness we have. We haven?t any case." The judge said, "Case dismissed." I was to stunned to draw good breath; it had been hard for me for several years.

CHAPTER XII

"I knew it was up to me to settle down and become respectable before I could ask Betty to marry me. I hadn?t saved any money, so I had to hunt a job. My uncle was the sheriff of Lawrence County, Arkansas and gave me a job as a deputy sheriff."

"There was a girl named Molly Sides who had a falling out with her step mother. Molly cut her hair off, dressed in her brothers clothes, and came to Jacksonport looking for her brother. She didn?t find him and so she got a job in the livery stable. She heard that her brother was at another place. She stole a horse and set out to find him. My uncle sent me after the horse thief. I was riding along with another man. But before we found her, she had started back and we met her. I arrested her but didn?t know she was a woman. I had recognized the roan horse. As we rode along this other man began to tease my prisoner. He said she rode like a woman. And he said, " I bet you are a woman." She was mad by then and said to me, "You are the officer of the law, ain?t you? I am a woman and you got to treat me right. We had to stay one night on the road. That night I chained her to an old loom in the same room where we slept."

"The next day when we got back to Jacksonport I went to my aunts house before we went to the jail. I told my aunt that the prisoner claimed to be a woman and that the shed room would be good enough to hold the prisoner till I found the sheriff. I wanted my aunt to search the prisoner but she wouldn?t do it. But auntie was anxious to know. She called a black Negro woman in and had her search the prisoner. When the Negro woman came out of the shed room, the whites of her eyes were rolling and she was laughing all over, she said, "Lawsy Honey, that?s the prettiest white woman I ever saw." The next day the sheriff sent her back to her father and I never heard anymore about the case."

One day my uncle read an advertisement where the old man Pinkerton was wanting certain-kinds of men to work for him. He answered the ad for me. That?s how I came to be working for the Pinkerton Detective Agency. Sometimes I get letters from them yet. The old man is dead.

Ironically enough, the first job Daddy Latch was sent on as a Pinkerton man was to catch a murderer for whom a five hundred reward was offered. Other Pinkerton detectives were likewise working on the case. Daddy said, "I worked in the same cotton field with the fugitive just across the fence from him. I slept there nights in the same room, two of them in the same bed, with Bryant. He slept with a gun under his pillow. He was so watchful I had to make sure. I couldn?t make up my mind. I got up early one morning and dressed. Then I woke him. They had two bells on that farm, one to get up, the other for breakfast. I punched him in the ribs and told him to get up. He said, "What do you mean by getting up so early?" His eyes narrowed and he looked determined. I said, "You know. Put your hands up. If you make a move I?ll blow your head off." I took his gun and made him dress and took him back. I got fifty dollars for the reward.

CHAPTER XIII

In 1871 Louis Latch was at Cairo, Il waiting for orders. He was dressed like a dandy. His affairs were in a mad hatter condition. He was courting, the young detective was alert as a fox and tough as a Missouri mule. One day he received a telegram to be on the look out for Lula Fitzhugh. Lula was only twenty-eight, her home town, Cape Girardeau, Mo. Lula had killed her husband at Cape Girardeau, Mo. for his insurance. She collected most of it. Daddy said, "Her husband was well fixed and so was her father. She didn?t need to do it." The insurance companies became suspicious and Lula fled. Five thousand dollars was offered as a reward for her arrest. Pinkerton?s had traced her to Cuba, England, France, and Germany. The head office received a telegram that she had left Europe. Suspecting that she might be trying to reach home. A telegram was sent to Latch telling him to watch for her.

"I was down at the dock," said Daddy Latch. When the John D. Perry landed I was there.

"The next morning we went to the dining room at the same time for breakfast. We sat across the table from each other. I wanted to be sure, I went around the table and slapped her on the shoulder and said, "Howdy Miss Lula." She said, "What do you mean?" I said, "Come to the office and I?ll explain." She said, "I won?t go anywhere with you again." I said, "Yes you will." She was independent and rung her hands and said. "I?ll have you arrested if you don?t let me alone." A crowd gathered around and someone said, "You?d better explain." I showed my badge and said, "I?ll explain nothing." They said, "Excuse us." I took my nippers and handcuffs out and then she went with me. By the way she looked at me, I could see that she loathed me and I guessed she detested me. She had mysterious, remembering eyes. I had to worry with her a good while before I could get her to acknowledge her name. We were just twenty-eight miles from her home. She was taken to St. Louis. She told me she went first to Cuba and had served as a private in the Cuban army for three months. Then she told me all about her trip abroad. I never knew what they did with her. I never went to the trial.

CHAPTER XIV

Though the waters were clearing rapidly, there were whirls still battering Daddy Latch. After working thirteen months for the Pinkerton Detective Agency in order to be married ??? Pinkerton would hire married men. During all his trouble Miss Betty Sweet had been faithful. He said, "I was a wild buck when I first got aquainted with her." On April 11, 1872, he married her at Scatterville, Arkansas. In 1873 he moved to Longview, Texas and lived their for eleven months. Then he bought a saw mill and moved to Upshur County, Texas, where the current of his life moved smoothly for the next thirty years. He is the father of fourteen children and had out lived all of them but three. At one time, when he owned three sawmills, he build a store, or commissary, and the community which grew around it took the name of Latch. One of the saw mills he bought a second time as there had been a mortgage against it of which he was ignorant when he purchased the property.

Latch had a man in the store working for him by the name of Stell. Daddy said, "I noticed that Lona, my daughter, got to coming to the store too often. I was afraid she was sparking . She wasn?t but thirteen years old. When Stell bought a new suit and hid it in a box under the counter, I thought they were fixing to get married. When I asked him about the suit he was embarrassed, then he told me he had been afraid I would get mad. I gave my consent and told them to marry at home but my wife wouldn?t let them marry at home. She took on a lot. After they had been married a wee, I sent word for them to come home. I bought a turkey and told the Negro cook to fix up a dinner. My wife came in the room and she was so mad he eyes were snapping. She said she would leave home if they came. She threw her bonnet down on the floor and began to cry. I told her if she was going to leave to pick up her bonnet.

In 1907, Louis Anderson Latch was elected sheriff of Upshur county and moved to Gilmer, the county seat. He held this office for six years, was beaten for one term, then re-elected. He was the oldest sheriff in Texas. Some of his old life clung to Daddy Latch even while he was in office. So long had he been on the run that his sympathies often went out to the man the law was seeking to apprehend. Sometimes word would leak out that the sheriff had a warrant, or that he was going to raid a place. He boasted that he never forgot a friend. When as sheriff, he arrested a friend, he would often put him in jail during the day and take him to the sheriffs home to spend the night. Or Daddy would send the prisoner-friend to his own home and tell him to be back at a certain time. He was never betrayed for this leniency. Though he shot three men while he was sheriff, he was not a quick-triggered officer.

Three men were guilty of blunders while Latch was sheriff, they shot at him. Daddy said, " Louis Robertson shot at me three times. The county attorney and constable got scared and ran home for guns, they said I had gotten behind a stump. I told Robertson I would have to shoot him because he wouldn?t behave. I shot him in the leg. After he got out of the pen he stayed all night with me. He died my good friend. He had been drunk a lot and was running all the Negroes out of town by shooting at them. I arrested him in town once and sent him home. He came back with his gun. He went to the pen for attempted murder and resisting an officer." Louis Latch, the sheriff, former Jim Lackey with a price on his head for shooting Negroes, was now protecting them and shooting their assailant.

CHAPTER XV

"Then there was Guy Needam," Daddy continued. "He forged a check for seventy five dollars and was put in jail. Little from Longview, was trying to get Needam out of jail. It was a jail break. Little had thrown files up to Needam?s window and had bought him a gun. I heard the noise out in the alley, back of the jail and went around there. Needam began shooting at me from a dark alley. All I could see was the flash of his gun. He shot at me three times. I shot him in the shoulder. He was sent to the pen twice while I was sheriff, once for buglary. Little also shot at me. I shot him in the leg. I never understood about Little; his father ran a livery stable at Longview and I had stayed in their house lots of times." At last the running stream had become a clear quiet pool, dancing silver in the sun. At ninety four, he was Daddy Latch to the entire county, known, loved and respected. Though he proudly displayed the scars of the three wounds he received during the Civil War, he never applied for an old soldier pension. He owned more than four hundred acres of east Texas land and would had to swear not to be worth a thousand dollars to make him eligible for the pension. Daddy Latch was too honest to make such a statement. He liked to come to Gilmer on Saturdays and dance jig on the streets to show the old men that he is not laid up yet. He claimed he was never drunk but once, yet he could drink more and show less than any man in the South. "I never cussed but once", he said. "Then I used to say dad-blame it. I carried that through the war and then got ashamed and quit it."

He said, " I joined the Baptist at Jonesboro, Arkansas. My wife was a Methodist during her life. I never paid a fine in my life. No civil suit was ever filed against me save for security deposits. I?ve paid several thousand dollars security deposits and only had a hundred and twelve return to me. They had me up in church for dancing at reunions and on the street, the round dance. I told the preacher if he would show me where it was wrong in the Bible, I?d quit. He never did. I was always good about paying the preacher. They never turned me out. I always gave several dollars to Buckner Orphan Home every year." Regret tinged his voice, that is, ?till the last year or two I haven?t had it.?

Still a rebel. Rebelling first at school and now at age. Creaking with aches and impended by rheumatism, Daddy Latch to the last was sparkling, daring, undaunted, and unconquered. He was gallant and courteous to women, ruthless and loyal to men.

Dancing for the joy of life, dancing! Glad he had two legs! Glad he was alive! Glad-alive-and-sparkling for 94 years.
THE END

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