I am heading home again.  I decided to leave 
the company of a group of Confederate irregulars 
I had joined up with.  While traveling through
northern Arkansas, I was stopped by a group of 
horsemen wearing CSA uniforms.  After finding 
out that I was a discharged Confederate, they 
asked if I wanted to ride with them and keep 
fighting.  They informed me they were irregular 
calvary under the command of a Colonel Cantrell.  
They were carrying the fight to the Union by 
disrupting communications and supply in Arkansas 
and Missouri.  A couple of the men were brothers.  
Jessie and Frank James seemed like nice enough 
fellows. The whole band of them were pretty hard 
men however. I rode with them for a couple of 
weeks until they started back toward Springfield 
for another raid.  I didn't much like what I 
heard. They were talking of raiding and burning 
towns, taking what valuables they could carry off 
and such.  I don't care if the towns were Union, 
what they were telling me sounded more like a band 
of thieves than calvary.  When they turned north, 
I slipped away form them and started on south.  

I did trade them the pistols for a rifle however.  
It's a .50 cal. Sharps.  I like the size and heft 
of it.  I've seen them before, but never managed 
to get my hands on one.  This is an even better 
weapon than the Enfield I used to have. The bullet 
carries a ways futher with just as good or better
accuracy.  It's not something you can hide like a 
pistol, and it is a single shot, but the range it 
has is an advantage if I have to use it, and I can
hunt with it.  I never was much good at shooting a 
pistol anyway.

I have a long way to go to get home.  I sent 
Elizabeth another letter telling her I was on my 
way, but not to get too restive.  The good Lord
willing, I'll get home at least by summer.  I 
wish I could make it happen quick like, but travel 
just takes time.  The roads are pretty muddy so 
the going is slow.  My wound doesn't hurt me like 
it did.  When I walk, it gets sore and I do limp.  
Things are going to be fine though.  I have the 
whole rest of my life to get well once I get home.  

I still have to avoid Union troops.  You never 
know where they are going to be.  Frank told me 
there were also irregular Union forces operating 
out of Missouri.  He said to watch out for them, 
they wear red leather leggings, so they call them
"red-legs".  From what Frank said, they will kill 
anyone wearing CSA clothing or even being suspected 
of being confederate.  He claims they have also 
raided towns and homes that were sympathetic to the 
South, burning and murdering.  Sometimes it seems 
like everyone is going crazy with hate. Those 
irregulars were filled with it. To tell the truth, 
I was pretty fired up against the Yankees at one 
time, especially after getting shot.  I guess they 
were just doing what they thought was right, and 
following orders.  In that way, they weren't much 
different from me.  

I don't want to fight any more, I just want to go 
home and live in peace.