Foreword

The year was 1860. Some of the white men of these times were outlaws who dwelt in the swamps far south of the Carolinas, trying to make a living any way they could. Most of them were out-of-work soldiers, since the surrender and removal of Chief Billy Bowlegs, leader of the Seminole Indian Tribe, which brought the end of the third and last of the Seminole Indian Wars. This left much land for the taking.

These same men worked as hired gunmen for cattle ranchers, who found themselves in a power struggle over these lands. With the Indian Wars all but over, most of the armies moved north out of Florida, leaving it lawless.

All but a few hundred Seminoles remained in the southern swamp territories. These Indians, along with other tribes, were intermingled with runaway Negro slaves who would not surrender to the Northern Armies. They retreated deep into the swamps to avoid relocation or death. The swamps in these parts were brutal. Gators, snakes, and insects made their home here.

There was more open range cattle in Florida than in Texas and all the other states combined. The men who drove these cows were called 'crackers', from the cracks of their whips they used to move the herds. Some were honest men and some were rustlers and murderers, depending on who they rode for.

With the election of the first Republican President, a congressman named Abraham Lincoln, talk of abolishing slavery seemed to be pushing the country toward instability. War between all the states was brewing, making the future of the south uncertain. The only thing for certain around these parts – men lived and died by the gun, taking what they wanted, or they died trying.

October's dry air temporarily pushed the mosquitoes deep into the marshes that in summertime were said to be thick enough to choke out herds of cattle. It took a special breed of man to live here, and an even harder man to survive.