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terrain July/August 2021
1868. It's not clear that the James brothers committed each crime they were credited with, but they were certainly involved in some of them. It was the bank robbery in Gallatin, Missouri, during December 1869 that made Jesse famous. Not for a big payday but because Jesse shot and killed the cashier, former Captain John Sheets, confusing him for a different Union captain who had killed the ruthless Confederate guerilla leader, Bloody Bill Anderson. The James brothers were suspected, and when a posse arrived at their family farm, the two brothers burst from a barn on horseback, firing their guns while escaping. In a letter to newspapers, Jesse claimed innocence, saying they fled due to fear of being lynched by Unionists. His fear likely had merit, given Jesse's stepfather had been hanged from a tree by Union militiamen who wanted information about Confederates. Jesse, himself, had been shot in the chest (and almost died) in an ambush by Federal forces just after his guerilla band surrendered. In a borderland state still seething with post-war rage and acts of vengeance, Jesse James soon became an anti-government hero for his crimes against the enemy. While the brazen robberies continued - the ticket office during the Kansas City Exposition, derailing the Rock Island train in Iowa while wearing KKK hoods - a former-Confederate newspaper writer with a flair for the dramatic christened them 19th century Robin Hoods. Though records are spotty, the James Gang occasionally used routes and hideouts throughout the Ozarks for getaways after robberies. In mid-January 1874, they robbed a stagecoach near Hot Springs, Arkansas. Afterward, they headed north, through the mountainous region I'm visiting, on their way to their next robbery. a Only legends and rumors suggest that Quantrill's Raiders and the James brothers passed through the actual borders of the Irish Wilderness. But given this is one of the few parts of the Ozarks preserved like it was during the 1800s, a hike here feels like a good start to tracking Jesse James' activities in the Ozarks. My original plan was to backpack the 18.6-mile loop during the spring, spending a few days exploring. When the pandemic delayed my field season for four months, I switched to an early morning hike to avoid peak heat. I mean, the outlaws were on the move year-round, so how hard could it be to complete a half-day hike? As I push deeper into the wilderness, beams of sunlight shine through gaps in the leafy oaks. One warm patch illuminates a few ticks clinging to my pants. I give up on using my hands to clear the spider webs from the trail. I grab a branch and wave it rhythmically in front of me, like the baton of a drum major marching through the Ozarks, high kicks included. If some backwoods hunter takes a potshot in my direction, it's not because I look like a deer. They just hate marching bands. It's slow going, occasionally having to bypass the overgrown trail and hike through nearby woods. After 3 miles, I descend steeply to Whites Creek. The rising heat suggests turning around, so I linger at a spring-fed pool to cool off. When the outlaws did pass through the Ozarks, springs like this would have been critical water sources for them and their horses. On my return hike, I cross paths with a large trapdoor spider. It briefly sprints toward me, so I jump out of the way. Probably tracking its own quarry? Next, I pass a
CLOCKWISE FROM TOP:
Abandoned Ozarks cabin; Current River anglers; Ozark railway. (MIKE BEZEMEK)
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