The scene of this war was Perry County, Kentucky, one of the most mountainous sections of all Southeastern Kentucky. Hazard, the county seat, was then a small, but very thrifty and enterprising village. It was called a town. Rightfully it ought not to have aspired to that title. It is situated on the North Fork of the Kentucky River, and was built in scattered fashion, between abrupt hills in the rear and the river, with but a single street running through it.

Here at Hazard was the cradle of the feud which for years filled newspaper columns and furnished most sensational reading. Many of the stories which have gone out to the world had, however, no other foundation than a lively imagination of newspaper writers who were anxious to fill space and to please the readers that loved the sensational. In this purpose they have succeeded admirably.

Here at Hazard resided the chieftains of this war—Joseph C. Eversole, and Benjamin Fulton French.

Both were men of fine business abilities, successfully engaged in the mercantile business; both were prominent, able lawyers of the Perry courts; both were in easy financial circumstances.

Eversole was extensively related in Perry and adjoining counties.

French had originally come from the State of Tennessee, but had married a Kentuckian and by marriage had become related to influential families of Breathitt, Leslie and other counties.

Prior to the difficulties which eventually arrayed them against each other, Eversole and French had been apparently close friends.

A misunderstanding over a rather trivial matter furnished the basis of their future enmity, an enmity to the death.

The bird on the snowy alpine slope starts an insignificant slide. It increases as it rolls downward and becomes an avalanche; thundering into the valley below, carrying everything before it and leaving a path of desolation, destruction and death behind it.

So a trivial difference over a business transaction opened graves for many brave and generous men, desolated happy homes, and for a long time heaped shame upon the name of Perry County and the State at large.

French and Eversole disagreed and quarreled. At each subsequent meeting the quarrel was renewed with ever increasing bitterness; menacing threats were freely indulged in until the vials of hate became filled to overflowing. A theretofore existing sharp business rivalry materially assisted the estrangement from the start. As stated, both were engaged in the mercantile business in which each tried to outdo the other, often at a material loss.

Serious trouble might yet have been averted through the interference of honest friends but for an unfortunate circumstance, which involved them to such an extent that the breach became irreparable.

The circumstance referred to might, however, never have had serious consequences had it not been for the pernicious activity of the slanderous tale teller. In this feud, perhaps more so than in any other of the internecine strifes which, during the eighties added to the significance of the title, the “Dark and Bloody Ground,” and intensified the crimson hue of its history, we find those who shunned battle, feared to oppose their breasts to the shock of bullet, but gloried in pouring oil upon the flames, without danger to themselves.

In such a struggle the tale-bearer is more dangerous than powder and shot. Morally and legally, he who instigates a murder, even by indirection, is as much a murderer as the man who fires the gun and accomplishes the bloody deed. With the countenance of the saint such a man will seek the confidence of both sides. He loves to pose as a peacemaker; he preaches brotherly love. Yet, when the trouble is about to abate, he seems to regret it, for then he seizes upon every chance, uses every opportune moment to convey some confidential intelligence to the party or parties for whose ears it had been least intended. The strife is renewed; passions are rekindled; yet, while men welter in their hearts’ blood, widows mourn and orphans cry, the traitor, the tale-teller, the scandal peddler, maintains his saintly countenance and bewails the fate of the unfortunates.

Yet it is not always the spoken slander, the spoken tale, that hurts. The old adage that “silence is golden” is not to be applied in all cases. Silence is often even more dangerous than spoken words.

Silence may become a greater liar than the tongue. We often hear the expression “if you cannot speak good of any one, say nothing!” Yet silence is the most bitter, poisonous, insidious traducer. Silence may convey contempt more completely than a torrent of spoken words. Silence is most treacherous because it places the burden of its interpretation upon the other side. That interpretation may be wrong, but the silent slanderer does not correct it.

Silence is also many sided. It may mean consent; it may mean denial. It does incalculable harm without being in the least responsible or actionable. One cannot horsewhip one for injury to character through silence. Silence and innuendo are closely related; both are the most dangerous weapons of the moral coward.

Spoken lies are soon forgotten. They “rile” the blood—but that passes. Spoken lies are tangible, as it were, and may be met. Silence and innuendo are like enemies in invisible ambush. One cannot attack an invisible foe.

What we have reference to might best be illustrated by the following dialogue the writer once overheard:

A. “Tell me truly, did he make that charge against me?”

B. turns away and refuses to answer.

A. “I heard he had made that charge against me to you and threatened my life—is this true?”

No answer.

A. “I may then presume by your silence that it is true what I have asked you about?”

No reply.

Result of silence: A homicide, and the destruction of two families.

Asked later on why he did not nip the trouble in its incipiency by resorting to a white lie, B. answered with asperity that A. had put his own construction upon his silence and refusal to have anything whatever to say in their controversy. On the stand B. admitted that the third party in question had not told him what A. had inquired about. Ergo: B. was morally responsible for the homicide, as much so as the man that pulled the trigger.

Reverting to the circumstance which completed the breach between French and Eversole: A certain friend (?) of French conveyed information to Eversole that he, French, sought his life.

This informant was a clerk in the store of French and known to be in his confidence. Naturally, under such circumstances, Eversole gave the report credence. Why not? We are ever ready to believe and accept as true anything that is spoken of an enemy, and French and Eversole had already become such in their hearts, if not outwardly.

The tale-bearer, who shall be nameless, related how French had planned to rid himself of his business rival and thus make for himself a clear field for mercantile operations; that French expected to accomplish his purpose with the aid of trusty, hired assassins, and that one part of the plan, the employment of reliable murderers, had been entrusted to him, the informant, who had been promised any amount of money necessary for this purpose, and a partnership with French in the business as a further reward for his services.

Whether for real or imaginary causes, this tale-bearer had become intensely jealous of French over a woman. He sought consolation in revenge; one of the first steps toward the consummation of his desire to ruin his “rival in love” had been the bearing of the tale referred to to Eversole.

Eversole, after weighing carefully the statement, seemed to have entertained some doubt of its truth, and requested a sworn affidavit containing the statements made. This the tale-teller readily prepared with such clearness of detail as to cause Eversole to dismiss all doubt of the truth of the revelations and at once prepared to meet his enemy well.

French saw the ominous gathering of the Eversole clan, fully armed, and surrounded himself with an equally strong force.

Both of the belligerents kept busy recruiting among their friends and kindred in Perry and even adjoining counties. Man after man was added to the clans, some joining them bound by the strong ties of relationship or friendship, the most, however, were attracted by promises of good steady pay, and an opportunity to violate the law on a grander scale than they would have dared to do single-handed.

The first murder occurred shortly after the gathering of the clans.

One of French’s staunchest friends, one Silas Gayhart, was shot and killed—from ambush.

This mode of warfare was resorted to in this feud perhaps more generally than in any of the others. It must not be attributed altogether to cowardice—this murdering from ambush. It has many advantages. Of course, killing an enemy from ambush puts the slayers out of danger. That is one consideration, but the chiefest one is that it is almost impossible to fasten the guilt of the crime upon the proper person. When men are banded together for the purpose of committing crime, the sanctity of an oath is easily laid aside when an alibi becomes necessary. The entire population of the county may know the assassins, point them out to you as they stalk proudly along, yet, when it comes to trials by jury, the evidence seems to signally fail to connect them. The very men that might have told you in confidence the most damaging circumstances connecting the accused with crime, will, on the stand, disclaim all knowledge, or so soften down their statements that no jury could, under their oaths, find a verdict of guilty.

In this murder of Gayhart at least a dozen white men and some negroes participated. It is unfortunate that circumstances do not permit us to give the names of them. They should be preserved for posterity, and added to the list of feud heroes. As no one was ever indicted for that cowardly assassination, although its perpetrators were well-known throughout the county, history must necessarily remain silent in so far as the publication of their names is concerned.

It has been stated and contended that the killing of Gayhart was an affair entirely disconnected with the French-Eversole controversy; that the man had fallen as the victim of a quarrel with persons not members of the clan. This may be true and it may not. It is difficult in such social upheavals to get at the unvarnished truth. When crimes are committed under cover of black night, from well-secreted places, suspicion might point in the wrong direction and accuse the innocent. For this reason it is best to abstain from charges not definitely established beyond any sort of doubt. The result of the Gayhart murder, however, was the same as if he had been publicly assassinated by the Eversole clan, for French believed that Gayhart lost his life because of his friendship for him.

French sent out more recruiting officers. The increase of his “army” forced the Eversoles to do likewise. How similar is this to the struggle of nations to maintain superior armies and navies. It is not strange, after all. Communities stand relatively in the same attitude as do nations. A community is a miniature state, nothing more.

The little village of Hazard, with its one hundred inhabitants, was now thrown into a state of perpetual excitement which continued uninterrupted through the summer, fall and winter of 1887.

That no battle was fought was due to the extreme caution with which the clans watched each other’s every move.

Then early one morning the Eversole faction learned to their astonishment that French and his army had evacuated the town during the night.

Many theories were advanced in explanation of this singular action. Some attributed it to fear. Those better acquainted with the temper and make-up of the French clan scouted that idea and suggested that French was seeking reinforcement in the country, and that at an opportune moment he would sweep down upon the village, trap the hemmed-in Eversoles, and annihilate them with overwhelming forces.

This seemed a rational conclusion. With French gone from town, Eversole declined to be caught in such a trap, as trap it would have been, and to prevent the execution of French’s plan the Eversoles themselves retreated to a section of the country peopled with their sympathizers.

However, Eversole did not leave Hazard open to undisputed occupation. He left a bait there, a small force. If French should learn of the weakness of the garrison he would be tempted to sweep down upon it. In doing so he would find Eversole striking in his rear. French himself was shrewd and refused to fall into the trap.

Eversole scouted everywhere, frequently on the trail of French. During the month of June, in the dark of night, the latter reentered Hazard, took possession of his fortified places where most of his men remained secreted, while the more daring of them walked the streets the next morning, bantering the Eversoles that had been left in town. Their leader was at once notified by messenger to the country of the state of affairs. He had but few men with him at that time, but with these started for town. Seven or eight men, fortunately for him, joined his ranks on the way.

It was late in the day when Hazard was reached, but the lateness of the hour did not defer attack. From well selected positions the Eversoles opened a plunging fire upon the housed-up French men. These replied to the fusilade with equal spirit. Hundreds of shots were fired at a great expenditure of ammunition and without appreciable result. Only one man was seriously wounded on the side of French. No casualties were admitted by the Eversoles.

The darkness of the night brought the engagement to a close. French withdrew from town.

This kind of almost bloodless warfare continued throughout the summer with no decisive result. Both clans grew weary. Great expense had been incurred in keeping a large, paid army. The leaders were threatened with bankruptcy. So when the friends of both sides interceded, French and Eversole seemed more than willing to appoint and send representatives to a conference, which was held on Big Creek in Perry County. It was attended by prominent citizens of both Perry and Leslie counties, who were anxious to bring about a settlement of the war.

Articles of agreement were finally drawn up, in which the belligerents agreed to return to their homes, to disband their armies, and to surrender their arms and ammunition.

This agreement was duly signed by the representatives of the clans and duly witnessed.

In accordance with this agreement, French surrendered his arms to the county judge of Leslie County, while Eversole placed his guns in charge of Josiah Combs, county judge of Perry County.

The clans disbanded. Still, there were but few who promised themselves lasting results from the Big Creek Treaty of Peace. It was nothing more than a scrap of paper. The compromise had not been prompted by any desire for friendship.

Its underlying motive was mercenary. The chieftains sought merely to avoid financial outlay. The welfare of the country, respect for the law, these were considerations of secondary importance only, if taken into account at all. This may be fairly deducted from the fact that the old distrust of each other never vanished. The grudge was there, it rankled still.

Indeed, it was but a short time after the conclusion of the treaty that French claimed to have unquestionable authority for the charge that Eversole had violated the stipulations by repossessing himself of the guns. These, as we have seen, had been turned over to Judge Josiah Combs, who, by the way, was the father-in-law of Joe Eversole.

When Eversole was confronted with this breach of a solemn treaty he attempted to justify it by declaring that at no time had it ever been observed by French, who, he maintained, had never in fact disbanded his army, and that the surrender of arms had only been partial, a blind.

Whether these reports had been actually brought to the ears of the chieftains, or had been invented by them in order to manufacture some sort of pretext upon which to renew hostilities, must ever remain in doubt. Future events seem to prove rather clearly that neither of the parties was in very good faith toward keeping the peace. Both French and Eversole appeared singularly well prepared to re-enter the war. The ink had hardly dried on the treaty when Perry County was again thrown into turmoil and strife.

What had the authorities been doing during this period of quasi warfare? We find absolutely no record of any sort of any attempt to maintain the dignity of the law.

As in Rowan County, many of the court officers were rank partisans, who used their power to protect in outlawry their own particular friends and kindred. Those not in their favor had little cause to appeal to the law, had they been inclined to do so, which they were not. It seemed to suit both sides perfectly to let justice sheath her sword and stand idle, and—blind as usual.

On the 15th of September, 1887, Joe Eversole and Bill Gambriel, a French sympathizer, met in the streets of Hazard, when a quarrel ensued. This was followed by a most sanguinary duel in which Gambriel was killed.

Gambriel was a minister of the gospel, a typical mountaineer, tall, powerful and game. He would fight at the drop of a hat and drop the hat himself. It was said of him that he considered moonshine whiskey of much benefit for the stomach, and a game at cards an agreeable diversion from the cares and toils of life. It was said of him, too, that he carried a testament in one pocket, a deck of cards, a bottle of liquor and a pistol in the others. This had been told in a joke; but straightway this description of him was accepted as a fact and was widely published in the papers at the time.

The truth of the matter is that he was a man who entertained rather singular, independent and free ideas of the duties of a preacher. He was a good man, and had a wide circle of friends.

Joe Eversole was physically a small man, of slight stature, but quick and agile as a boy. Certainly he was fearless.

When such men engage in combat blood is sure to flow. As to who began the difficulty there is but little doubt. Official reports to the Governor, which will be found later on, place the blame upon Eversole.

After a short exchange of blows between the men, Gambriel was fired upon by secreted friends of Eversole. Attempting to escape by running around a house, Gambriel was fired upon from another quarter and fatally wounded. Staggering and reeling, he turned upon Eversole, who fired into his head, instantly killing him.

Several parties were indicted for the murder, but one only was tried. The trial resulted in a hung jury the first time, and in an acquittal on the second trial. It has always been an open secret about town that the man who fired upon Gambriel while he attempted to escape death, has never been indicted, and that he was an officer at that time.

The killing created intense feeling. Gambriel had many friends. He was a staunch French adherent and it was well within the course of reason for French to regard the killing of the man as a challenge. The Eversoles themselves believed that Gambriel’s friends would not pass lightly over the homicide and prepared to meet all danger. The clans, disbanded (?) but a short time before, reassembled and for several months roamed the ill-fated county at will, terrorizing its inhabitants and defying the law.

But little fighting was done. It seems that they contented themselves with manoeuvering, marching and counter-marching. In such warfare, if warfare it was, the innocent were made to suffer more than the warriors.

Such an armed vagabondage was as useless as it was silly. It furnished material for the sensational newspaper, but even these failed to discover anything of the heroic about this campaign.

The leaders must have felt something of that themselves, for during the winter the armies were again disbanded. Permanent restoration of peace, however, was not to come to Perry County yet for a time.

The apparent calm through the winter was suddenly disturbed in the following April, when the news of the brutal assassination of Joseph C. Eversole and Nick Combs excited and horrified Hazard.

On the morning of April 15th, 1888, the valley of Big Creek, Perry County, became the scene of a tragedy which might well cause one’s blood to run cold with horror, one’s cheek to blush with shame.

On the Sabbath day, when human hearts should turn to God in prayer, when nature even seems to bow in reverence, the birds of the forests sing His praises with more than usual sweetness, two lives were hurled into eternity without warning, murdered, butchered from ambush.

When a man resents an insult, when passion clouds all reason, and in momentary frenzy, under the impulse of hot, red blood, he shoots his fellow man, there is yet some excuse. But when men with the savage instinct of beasts of prey fall upon their unsuspecting victims from ambush, like the tiger that glides noiselessly through the thick jungle and suddenly springs upon its prey, then the word man becomes a mock and devil is the proper epithet.

Nowhere in the valley of Big Creek could a more suitable spot have been selected from which to accomplish such a hellish crime as was committed on that fatal Sunday morning, than the one chosen by the red-handed demons.

The valley is narrow, the hills enclosing it are steep, rugged and covered with dense forest. The spot where the murderers were in hiding, commanded an uninterrupted view of the road up and down the valley. Nothing short of a lynx’s eyes could have penetrated the leafy, thicket-grown murderers’ retreat.

On the day of the murder, Joe Eversole, in company of his father-in-law, Judge Josiah Combs and the latter’s youthful nephew, Nick Combs, bade a last farewell to his family and the host of friends at Hazard and started for Hyden where the regular term of the Circuit Court was scheduled to begin the following morning. This court Eversole and Judge Combs had always attended, having been practising members of the bar there for years. Of this fact the assassins had been well informed.

They seemed to have feared that their intended victims might possibly leave for Hyden a day or two in advance of court, which they had done on several occasions in the past, so the murderers prepared for such an exigency and stationed themselves at the ambush for at least a day before that memorable Sunday.

Their patient waiting was rewarded on Sunday morning by the appearance of the victims. On the way the three travelers were joined by one Tom Hollifield, an officer, who was conveying a prisoner, Mary Jones, to Hyden. Judge Combs rode by the side of the officer, well in advance of Eversole and young Nick Combs.

They had passed the ambush some forty yards or more, when suddenly the roar of rapidly fired guns echoed and re-echoed through the valley. At the sound of the shots Judge Combs turned and saw, to his horror, that the messengers of death had accomplished their cruel mission, saw Joe Eversole and Nick Combs fall from their rearing and plunging horses, saw them struggle in their blood and then lay still.

Paralyzed with horror and agony, he gazed upon the scene. He had no sense or realization of his own danger, for in danger he had been. It was purely accident that he had ridden in advance of his kinsmen.

One of the assassins climbed down the steep hillside and approached the body of Nick Combs, who was then in his death-throes. He had fainted, but upon the approach of the assassin, opened his eyes.

The murderer, finding life still lingering in the mangled, bleeding body, raised his rifle to finish the bloody work. The youth begged piteously to shoot him no more, that death would claim him in a few moments. Mountains might have been moved by his pleadings, but not the heart of the cowardly assassin. “Dead men tell no tales,” he exclaimed, with a smile of derision upon his lips. Slowly he raised the Winchester rifle, placed the muzzle against the boy’s head and fired, dropping the eyeballs from their sockets.

The murderer then calmly rifled the pockets of Eversole of their contents and retreated, thus adding the crime of robbery to that of murder.

Judge Combs, brought to himself, spurred his horse to utmost exertion and dashed like a maniac into Hyden to bring the news.

The scene of the crime was within about three hundred yards of a house. Shortly after the shooting one Fields, the owner of the house or cabin, and one Campbell proceeded to the scene of the tragedy.

They found the dead in a pool of blood, lying within a few feet of each other. They discovered Eversole’s pockets turned inside out. Nick Combs’ horse was found, shot, in a little meadow by the side of the road, while Eversole’s horse was afterwards caught some miles further down the stream.

The news of the tragedy aroused the people to instant action. A force of men was assembled, who started upon the trail of the murderers. The place of ambush was found. It was located exactly sixty-one feet from the point where the bodies had been found, in a dense spruce-pine thicket. Several of the pine bushes had been bent over and the tops tied together, thus forming a complete screen and shelter.

Behind this blind or screen they found a considerable depression in the earth, a natural rifle pit. This had been filled with leaves and appeared packed and trodden into the ground. Numerous footprints were plainly visible. Remnants of meals were also found. Everything tended to confirm the theory that the assassins had been there for at least two days before the killing. From this screen the trail was followed up the hill until it divided. One of the trails led to the top of a high ridge, one turned to the right, another to the left. This discovery proved that there had been at least three assassins. When this fact became known the pursuers retreated, seemingly afraid of an ambush. They reasoned that three or more men so desperate as to commit a cold-blooded double murder in the broad-open light of day, almost in sight of human habitation, would and could, in this wild mountain region, successfully fight an even larger force than was at the command of the pursuers.

The bodies of Eversole and Combs were conveyed to Hazard in the afternoon and consigned to their graves amid a great concourse of sorrowing people.

Thus the bloody drama ends. The sombre curtain of mourning falls. The story of the brutal assassination is finished. Justice hides her head in shame for no one has ever been punished for it.

The French faction was at once openly charged with responsibility for the outrage. French himself was indicted. So boldly and undisguised were these accusations circulated that French feared for his safety and again surrounded himself with men. He almost immediately withdrew from town and scouted through the country.

If those who committed the murder of Eversole, or their accessaries, had hoped to thereby crush the enemy, they found themselves sadly mistaken. The vacancy created by the death of Joe Eversole was quickly and ably filled by John Campbell, a man of acknowledged bravery, as well as caution, and well-fitted as a leader in such a struggle.

He surrounded the town with guards; squads of men patrolled the streets; his force made repeated scouts into the neighboring hills. No man not in possession of the password could enter town. An unauthorized attempt to do so drew upon the rash one the fire of many guns. Campbell had been for days in hourly expectation of an attack by French. He, therefore, believed it wise to resort to military methods and discipline. The rigid order to shoot any one who dared to pass into town without first giving the pass-word resulted in his own death.

He was returning one night from his usual rounds when, on approaching a sentry, he found him asleep. He ordered him harshly to arise, when the man, half asleep, and dazed, threw the gun to his shoulder and fired. Campbell uttered a groan and fell heavily to the ground.

The sentry, on perceiving his mistake, gave the alarm; the wounded chieftain was carried to his home, where an examination of his wound by the surgeons disclosed the fact that he had been fatally wounded. He lingered, however, for more than thirty days in intense agony before he died—the victim of his own precautions.

During Campbell’s leadership one Shade Combs conceived the grand idea that he was the man who might summarily end the war by killing off certain obnoxious members of the French faction. He communicated his plans to Campbell, who furnished him the required men. But by some means Combs’ intended victims had gotten wind of his scheme and forestalled it in such manner that the hunter now became the hunted. One fine morning, while saddling his horse, a well-directed shot from ambush ended his life.

Such were conditions in Perry County during the summer and fall of 1888. People who had continued entirely neutral, grew exceedingly nervous. One never knew when his turn would come next to die from a shot from the bushes. The law had utterly failed to give the citizens the protection to which they were entitled. The state and county government enforced the collection of taxes but seemed unable to enforce the law. Had the people of Perry County withheld their hands from their purse-strings and refused to pay taxes, we honestly believe that the high authorities would very quickly have found or invented a remedy for the lawlessness which was depriving the State of revenue. The citizens of Perry County would have been justified in a rebellion against taxation, unless the government protected them in their rights. When people are taxed, they in turn are supposed to have their lives and property protected. When one consideration of a contract fails, the other may be avoided.

On the 9th of October, 1888, the news of another assassination increased the terror of the people. Elijah Morgan, a French adherent, a man of courage and unswerving determination, was shot and killed within less than two miles of Hazard—shot from ambush.

On the morning of his death he and one Frank Grace were on their way to town in pursuance of an agreement that had been entered into by him with members of the Eversole faction. Morgan was the son-in-law of Judge Combs, but in spite of all efforts from that direction to throw his influence with the Eversoles he had continued to remain loyal to French and for this he was promptly slain.

His death had been decreed some time before this, but his shrewdness and knowledge of the tactics of his enemies had made him a very slippery proposition. A ruse was, therefore, resorted to. For a short time previous to his death Morgan had frequently expressed his desire for peace, an earnest wish to lay down his arms, and to be permitted to return to peaceful pursuits. This commendable desire on his part assisted his enemies in the formulation of plans for his destruction. They assured him with every pledge of sincerity that he should not be molested; that he might freely come to town whenever he wished; that on a certain day (the day of the murder) if he would meet them at Hazard, they would all renew the friendship that had existed until the feud tore them asunder.

Morgan promised to attend the proposed peace jubilee. Little did he dream that the pretended friends were cold-blooded, calculating enemies, seeking his life under the miserable mask of friendship; that to be certain of success, to avoid any possible miscarriage of the plot, every avenue of escape had been carefully considered and guarded against.

Assassins were placed at various points along the road and at convenient spots in town.

The actors in the tragedy were all at their posts when Morgan stepped upon the scene, unknowingly playing the chief role.

Within less than two miles, in fact, but little more than a mile from town, at a spot where the road is flanked by large overhanging cliffs on one side and the steep river bank on the other, Morgan was fired upon. With a bullet in his back he sank to the ground. A number of shots followed the first one. Grace was driven to cover. Morgan, in his death struggle, rolled over the river bank where a small tree arrested further descent. Grace, not daring to abandon his place of comparative safety, remained a helpless spectator of the agonies of his dying friend.

Country people, traveling toward town, at last came to Morgan’s relief, but he died within a few hours.

As soon as the alarm had been given, a posse of his friends started in pursuit of the murderers, but nothing came of it.

The French faction openly charged the Eversoles with the murder. The Eversoles expressed indignation at the imputation. They had no right to complain. On other occasions they had themselves preferred similar charges against French upon no better authority than suspicions based upon suspicious circumstances. The murder of Morgan had followed closely upon the heel of the assassination of Shade Combs for which the Eversoles held the French faction responsible. Certainly there were some well-grounded suspicions that the slaying of Morgan was an act of retaliation on the part of the Eversoles.

Now the State government and the circuit judge began to take a hand in the matter. It was time. Circuit Judge Lilly, a gentleman of the highest type, an able jurist, had somehow or other seemed unable to inspire the district with respects for his courts. This district embraced the counties of Breathitt, Letcher, Perry, Knott and others. In each of those lawlessness had spread to such an extent that the judge found himself defied on every hand and felt himself compelled to request the State to furnish troops for his courts.

This led to the following spirited correspondence between the Governor and Judge Lilly:

Hazard, Ky., Nov. 13, 1888.

To the Governor of Kentucky:

Sir:—Captain Sohan has succeeded in organizing a company of about 45 State Guards in Perry County. He informs me that he has no orders and does not know whether he will be ordered back to Louisville or to go with me to Whitesburg, thence to Hindman and thence to Breathitt; but, in any event, expects to be ordered away from here very soon. Mr. B. F. French is here with 15 or perhaps more men, well armed, and the people are so much alarmed, fearing that they will be left to the mercy of these men, that I have decided that I will take the responsibility upon myself to order the Perry Guards on duty, hoping that you will approve my action and order them on duty, and let their pay begin on the 17th instant.

I will not attempt to hold courts at Letcher, Knott, or Breathitt unless you send guards along. No good can be accomplished by holding courts in any of those counties without a guard. If a sufficient guard is present, I think that much good will be accomplished in and by the moral effect it will have on the people by showing them that you are determined to have the courts held and the laws enforced, and to give protection to the good citizens.

Please write me and send by way of Manchester, as I shall return that way, and if I do not receive your letter here, can get it on the road. If you order the guard to go with me I will go and hold the courts if not Providentially hindered.

I remain, Yours truly,
H. C. Lilly.

The Governor answered in rather caustic manner.

Governor Buckner’s Reply.

Executive Department.

Frankfort, Nov. 27th, 1888.

Hon. H. C. Lilly, Judge, Irvine, Ky.

Dear Sir:—I have the honor to acknowledge the receipt of your communication of the 13th inst. from Hazard, Perry County, in which you say “Mr. B. F. French is here with 15, or perhaps more, men, well armed, and the people are so much alarmed, fearing that they will be left to the mercy of those men, that I have decided that I will take the responsibility upon myself to order the Perry Guards on duty, hoping that you will approve my action and order them on duty, and let their pay begin on the 17th inst.”

At the time I received your communication I was in communication with the sheriff of Perry County. I inferred from his statements that there was no immediate danger of an outbreak or opposition to the civil authorities; and, second, that but slight effort had been made by him to arrest violators of the law.

Your own statement does not inform me of anything more than a vague apprehension in the public mind, and does not advise me that the civil authorities cannot suppress any attempts at disturbance by employing the usual force of civil government. I assume that if danger had been imminent, both you and the sheriff would have remained on the ground.

The object of furnishing troops on your application was to protect the court in the discharge of its duties, and not to supercede the civil authorities by a military force.

Under the circumstances I do not feel authorized to call the local militia into active service.

Respectfully, your obedient servant,
S. B. Buckner.

The letter of Judge Lilly is significant as an admission of the cowardice of the entire population. He says “Mr. B. F. French is here with fifteen, or perhaps, more men, well-armed, and the people are so much alarmed fearing that they will be left to the mercy of those men” and so on.

Had Judge Lilly been correctly informed? If so, what had become of the boasted bravery of Kentucky mountaineers that the manhood of an entire county, containing many thousand inhabitants, should shiver and tremble like frightened sheep and tamely submit to the intimidations of a band of FIFTEEN, or perhaps more, men.

Was it possible that in this land of the free and the brave the proportion of brave men stood fifteen to one thousand cowards? Oh no! The authorities had simply never put the law-abiding, the true citizen element, in a position to show its mettle; it had never been given a proper test. The attempt to restore order had not been made at all; if it had, it would have succeeded. No outlaw band, however strong, can, or will, long defy the law when a firm and determined move is made to enforce it. Why is it that one courageous blue-coat policeman can scatter a crowd? It is not his bulk, his figure, but the uniform he wears, the badge of authority—the law. If he is a credit to that uniform he may, single-handed, disperse a mob. The consciousness of having the law behind him makes him dauntless; the thought of duty steels his nerves. If those entrusted with the execution of the law in Perry County had made one firm, unflinching effort to uphold its dignity, the period of assassinations would have ended then and there. The history of lawlessness in Perry County furnishes ample lessons to other counties, and to other states, for that matter.

Governor Buckner aptly expressed his opinion of the situation when he terms the “fears and alarms” of the people as “anything more than a vague apprehension in the public mind.”

Judge Lilly probably accepted the trembling cowardice of a few as the criterion by which to measure the manhood of an entire county.

However, on the 29th of October, the Governor notified the Adjutant-General to forward troops to Hazard. His report to the Governor later on furnishes interesting reading, as does the report of the commander of the expedition, Captain J. M. Sohan.[6]

Adjutant-General’s Office.

Frankfort, Ky., Nov. 14, 1888.

To his Excellency, Governor S. B. Buckner.

Dear Sir:—Pursuant to Executive order, bearing date the 29th ult., I left Frankfort on 31st and proceeded to Hazard, the county seat of Perry County, arriving there noon of Sunday, the 14th instant, where I remained till Thursday, the 8th, when I left on my return, at 10 o’clock A. M., arriving here Saturday morning. Hazard contains near 100 inhabitants, when they are all at home, but I was told that not more than about thirty-five people were at home when I reached there, the rest of the population having refugeed in consequence of the French and Eversole feud which has distracted the people of the town and county for more than two years, and during which some ten men have died by violence as the result thereof. Many of the refugees returned before I left there, a number having joined the troops en route, and returned under their protection to Hazard, arriving there on the afternoon of Sunday, the 4th, while others returned Sunday night and others as late as Wednesday night.

Among those who had sought safety in flight were George Eversole, county judge, and brother to Joe Eversole, the leader of the faction of that name; Ira Davidson, circuit and county court clerk, a sympathizer with that faction, Josiah Combs, late county judge and father-in-law of Joseph Eversole, and his son —— Combs, who is an officer of the circuit court, and Fulton French, the leader of the French faction, together with the families of each, except Davidson, who is a single man. These all returned, except the elder Combs, either with the troops or after their arrival, and before I left. The killings above referred to were mostly assassinations from ambush, which seems to have been the favorite method of warfare adopted by both factions for ridding the community of the presence of persons who, from causes real or supposed, had made themselves obnoxious to the slayers, though one killing, that of Mr. Gambriel, was committed in the town of Hazard, in broad daylight, by two Eversoles and two of his henchmen, and was witnessed by a number of people; was committed without anything like adequate provocation, but for which no indictment had ever been found. Grand juries and witnesses seem either to have sympathized with the law-breakers or to have been intimidated by them; but it is not improbable that both of these causes have operated to paralyze the administration of the law, and to correspondingly stimulate crime. As is usual in such cases, I found that the county authorities failed to act with any degree of promptness and vigor at the inception of the difficulties and the result was the inevitable one—the troubles soon grew beyond their control. Josiah Combs, the father-in-law of Joe Eversole, was county judge at the beginning of the feud and Eversole and his friends were evidently the aggressors—at least were first to resort to violence—and when the county judge was appealed to by outsiders to issue warrants for their arrest, positively declined to do so, saying that Eversole had done nothing to be arrested for, and that French ought to be driven away from town. Thus the inaction of the authorities stimulated the friends of each faction, and each sought safety in arming such persons as would take service with them, and setting at defiance the law instead of looking to it as their best protection. Finally, one Sunday morning last April, Joe Eversole, in company with Nick Combs, his brother-in-law, and Josiah Combs, started from Hazard to Hyden to circuit court, and when about five miles out from Hazard they were fired upon from ambush and Eversole and young Combs were instantly killed.

Fulton French was indicted for that killing, and while he may have instigated it, he certainly did not participate in the shooting.

The killing of Joe Eversole seems to have demoralized his friends, the most prominent of whom soon after left Hazard.

The last assassination was that of Elijah Morgan, who was shot from ambush, near Hazard, on the 9th of last month. His only crime appears to have been that he sympathized with French. Morgan was also a son-in-law of Josiah Combs and brother-in-law of Eversole.

And now, perhaps, you are ready to ask what it was all about? Well, I cannot say, although I very naturally sought to learn the cause. Some of whom I enquired thought it was business rivalry, while others said there was a woman in the case, and I think it attributable in part to both those causes. French and Eversole were both merchants and lawyers, and I was told that some three years ago a man who was clerking for French accused French of deflouring his wife, and quit French and took service with Eversole, and told the latter that the former had offered him five hundred dollars to murder him, and soon afterwards Silas Gayheart, who was a friend of French, was murdered, as it is charged, by Eversole and his friends, and from that time on the troubles have grown and assassinations multiplied, the victims being first from one side and then from the other. I thought it advisable to call out 44 of the reserve militia, all that I had arms for, and selected these from the best, non-partisan people that I could.

The list was not complete when I left, but I authorized Capt. Sohan, whom I found to be an excellent officer, to muster them in, and gave him similar instructions to those you gave me on the subject.

Judge Lilly is very anxious that the troops go with him to Knott and Letcher Counties, but I heard of no organized band of outlaws in those counties too strong for the civil authorities, if the latter will do their duty. The troops, officers and men comprising the detail, conducted themselves in a soldierly and appropriate manner, and I apprehend that they will have no trouble in protecting the court from violence should any be offered, which I think improbable.

Very respectfully,
Sam E. Hill,
Adjutant-General.

Captain Sohan’s report contains additional facts of interest; the difficulty in reaching the remote, mountainous section, and facts connected with the conduct of the court.

Headquarters Louisville Legion.

FIRST REG. KY. STATE GUARD, ADJUTANT’S OFFICE.

Louisville, Ky., November 27th, 1889.

To the Adjutant-General, Frankfort, Ky.

Sir:—Under instructions contained in your letter of March 8th, 1888, handed me at Hazard, Perry County, Kentucky, I have the honor to submit the following report:—

Pursuant to General Orders Nos. 38 and 39, issued from regimental headquarters, and authorized by Executive Orders, I left Louisville October 30th, at 8.05 P. M. with a detail of four commissioned officers and 63 non-commissioned officers and privates, and 1 gatling gun, under instructions to report to Hon. H. C. Lilly, Judge of the 19th Judicial District, at Hazard, Perry County, Kentucky.

The detail occupied 2 passenger coaches and 1 baggage car, which were attached to the regular 8.05 P. M. train on the Knoxville Branch of the L. & N. Railroad. We arrived at London, Ky., about two o’clock, and there our cars were sidetracked and the command occupied them until daylight, when we disembarked, had breakfast and started for Hazard, which is about 75 miles distant. We traveled in wagons, which had been provided by Lieutenant J. H. Mansir, Acting Quartermaster, who had preceded the command to London for that purpose. To transport the command were required 14 wagons and teams, and 1 team for gatling gun. The officers were mounted. Owing to the condition of the road, in places almost impassable, the march was very tedious; the men had frequently to dismount and help the teams up the hills or over rough places. About 4 o’clock we went into camp for the night, and resumed the march next morning at good daylight. We continued the march in this manner from day to day, going into camp between 3 and 4 o’clock, and resuming the march between 6 and 7. We reached Hazard at three o’clock Sunday afternoon, November 3rd, 1888, it being the fifth day out from London. On the second day of the march we were joined by Judge Lilly, when about 25 miles from London. He remained with or near the command until we reached Hazard. At various points along the route we were met by the officials of the Perry Circuit Court—the circuit court clerk, sheriff and deputy sheriffs—all of whom were awaiting escort, and who accompanied the troops into town.

Arrived at our destination, I found the court house unsuitable for a camp-ground, and selected for that purpose a hill in rear of the court house, and about 200 yards distant. It proved an admirable site, being dry, easily picketed, in a manner secluded, and affording good opportunity to command the town in case of difficulty. We were comfortably encamped before dark, and entered at once upon the routine of camp life, the full particulars of which have been made known to you in my daily reports. I reported for duty to Judge Lilly at the court house on Monday, the 5th inst., at 9 o’clock A. M. He instructed me that he would not require a guard at the court house or town just then, not deeming it necessary, as but few people were in, and that in any case he did not intend to try to do anything until after the election, which occurred on the 6th, and that when he wanted a guard he would let me know. I returned to camp and the judge adjourned court until Wednesday, the 7th. Upon resuming Wednesday, the town being well filled with people, the judge required a guard in the court room as a precautionary measure, and entered formally upon the business of the term. I noticed that in charging the grand jury he dwelt at considerable length upon the crimes of illegal selling of liquor and gaming, but passed murder with the remark that “it was unnecessary for him to call the attention of the jury to the fact that murder was a crime,” and also when one of the attorneys at the bar wanted to introduce a motion to reorganize the grand jury, in order to get a jury that would indict certain persons for murder, the judge informed him that he would overrule any motion to that effect: “That if commenced, there would be no end to it; that the jury was carefully selected, and was as good as could be had in the county.” The business of the court proceeded slowly, the great majority of the cases having to be passed, owing to the absence of the accused, or of important witnesses, whose attendance it seemed impossible to secure. A few convictions for minor offenses were secured, the penalty inflicted generally being the lowest prescribed by law; besides these, but one important case was decided, one man being sent to the State prison for one year for shooting and wounding, receiving the lowest penalty. The judge, in finally dismissing the jury, reprimanded them for their leniency, and called attention to the light sentence imposed as indicative of the state of feeling throughout the community. As far as I could judge the court officials used every endeavor to promote the ends of justice, but were effectually hampered by their inability to make arrests and secure the attendance of witnesses and get juries to convict. About the third or fourth day of the court, B. F. French, one of the principals in the French-Eversole feud, was brought into town by the sheriff of Breathitt County. He was surrounded by a posse of about twenty men who rode in in good order, in column of twos, each man holding his rifle at an “advance.” They went at once to French’s residence, where they remained during the court. I believe French was nominally surrendered to the sheriff of Perry County, but was permitted to remain in his house and was constantly surrounded by the Breathitt County posse, which was made up of his friends and followers, and which was represented to me as containing some of the worst men in Breathitt County. So threatening was their appearance that the judge commanded them to surrender their arms to me. They at first refused, but finally brought nine rifles into camp, and, I suppose, hid the balance, as they did not appear any more under arms. The rifles surrendered to me were the 50-calibre Springfield, exactly the same gun as the State Guard was formerly armed with. I returned them to the posse, on an order from the judge, when they left town. French, although under arrest, went constantly armed, and seemed to be under no restraint. A day or so after his arrest he went into court, gave bond for himself and several of his followers and was released from arrest, but remained in town until near the end of the term, when he left for Breathitt County, surrounded by an armed guard similar to that which brought him in.

Perhaps the most important event of the trip was the formation of a military company at Hazard, the organization of which was commenced by yourself during your stay there, and completed by me, acting under your instructions. I have made full reports of this event to your office, with roster of company and report of election of officers. I respectfully recommend that this company be encouraged in every way possible, as in my opinion it will have a quieting effect upon the turbulent element in Perry County. The company is largely made up of the men selected by yourself, and who are, as near as possible, unbiased in the feuds of the county. The officers appear to be good men for the positions to which they were elected, and enjoy the respect of the community.

As the end of the term approached, and being without orders to govern my further movements, I despatched Lieutenant Gray, who volunteered for the service, to London, on Saturday, the 9th inst., with a telegram to your office asking for instructions. I waited until the last day, knowing Judge Lilly had asked the Governor for troops over his entire circuit. You had instructed me that definite orders would be sent me in time to act. The order did arrive Monday afternoon, having been delayed two days in the mail, and was to return to Louisville. I immediately made arrangements to break camp, and Lieutenant Gray having returned Tuesday night with telegram confirming the above order, the command left Hazard Wednesday, the 20th. Judge Lilly remained in Hazard, awaiting action of the Governor in regard to his application for troops, and his request for these being refused, he decided not to go any farther on his circuit, and left Hazard with us. He parted with us finally the next day, a few miles out from Hazard, and I believe returned to his home.

I desire to express my thanks to Judge Lilly for the uniform kindness and courtesy of his bearing toward myself and my command.

The return trip was made in the same manner as the outward one, and by the same means, but was even more trying on the command, as the weather was colder and the roads worse. We reached London Sunday, 27th, about three o’clock P. M. We found cars ready for us, and at once occupied them. They were attached to the one o’clock A. M. train and arrived at Louisville Monday morning, the 28th inst., where the command, having disembarked, were marched to the armory and disbanded.

This ended a service somewhat unique, even in the varied experience in the Kentucky State Guard.

That it was productive of good there can be no doubt. It impressed the people of the community that the State was determined to assert her power and majesty, and that they would no longer defy the law with impunity. The officials of the court and residents of the town and county were unanimous in the assertion, which was made to me repeatedly, that the term of the court could not have been held without bloodshed, except for the presence of the troops, and I believe this to be true. On the day of the national election there was not the slightest disturbance, although several murders and affrays were reported from adjoining counties, in Hazard,—a thing almost unprecedented in its history. We had here the same experience that the State troops have always had on similar service, that is, the police power of the State is universally feared and respected. That there will be more bloodshed before this feud is settled was the opinion of all to whom I spoke on the subject. The men engaged in it are vindictive and daring, and will use any means to escape punishment or gratify their revenge. That the people really believe this, is shown by the fact that many of them had left the town permanently. The circuit clerk and county judge, both residents, left when we did with the intention of not returning. Half the houses in town were unoccupied, and one of the citizens lamented to me the fact that whereas they formerly had 150 inhabitants they now had but seventy. The moral condition of many of the people of this section is indeed deplorable. There is not a church of any kind in the county, but few schools, and they of the most primitive sort; not half of the murders committed are ever made known to the public; many of the people live in the most squalid poverty and social degradation; incest of the vilest sort is frequently practised, and the marriage ceremony is constantly ignored. I have counted as many as fifteen children, who, with their parents, occupied a small cabin, containing one room. It is from such conditions that the disordered state in the community arises, and in my opinion they cannot be fully removed until advancing civilization and development bring new people and new incentive to labor.

This state of affairs renders it very difficult for the civil officers to perform the duties satisfactorily, as a majority of the people seem to have sunk into a kind of apathy regarding crime, and hold aloof from any effort to enforce the laws. The fear of secret assassination or “bushwhacking” hangs like a pall over the entire section, so that those who would otherwise aid in enforcing order do not care to risk their lives in the attempt. I will state an instance showing how widespread this fear is: Several of the men in French’s body guard were wanted in Knott County, and the warrants for their arrest were brought to Hazard by a woman.

Neither is this fear groundless, as is shown by the fact that more than twenty men have been killed in the French-Eversole feud, most of them being shot from ambush. This is the secret of all the troubles. The people are held in terror by a few desperadoes. The peaceable and respectable citizens largely predominate in the county, and could they be assured of protection, would soon put an end to the disorders. In closing this report, it gives me great pleasure to refer to the conduct of the detail under my command. Perhaps no part of the State Guard has ever passed through more severe test of discipline and endurance. Certainly none have ever responded more gallantly and faithfully to the demands made upon them. The march from Louisville to Hazard and back was particularly trying, the camp each night being but temporary, the men could not make themselves comfortable and suffered severely from the cold. The road is simply indescribable, being so rough that most of the command preferred walking to riding in the wagons provided. We frequently marched for hours in the water, the natural bed of the creeks being the only available way through the hills, and this was generally the best part of the road; at other times it took all hands to help the teams up the hills, or keep them from falling over precipices. Through it all the men were cheerful and uncomplaining, and though allowed every possible liberty, there was not a single serious breach of discipline, and but few even of a trivial sort. This, I think, speaks well for the training and reliability of the command from which the detail was taken.

The health of the detail....

Very respectfully,
Your obedient servant,
J. M. Sohan,
Captain Commanding.

With the departure of the troops returned the same chaotic conditions which had characterized the county previous to the term of court which they had been sent to protect. During the spring term, however, a number of indictments were found against law violators. This would, of course, bring the accused, their friends and many witnesses to court, at the following November term.

Judge Lilly refused to share the belief of the Governor that the Home Guards would be able to suppress disorders and properly protect the court. He failed to appear. An election for special judge resulted in the seating of Hon. W. L. Hurst as judge pro tem.

THE BATTLE OF HAZARD.
(NOVEMBER 7TH AND 8TH, 1889.)

Court had proceeded with unimportant business until the fourth day of the term.

Considerable disorder had occurred on the night of the third day of court, but actual hostilities did not open until the following morning.

During the forenoon a heavy volley of shots suddenly rang clear and sharp in the cold November air and echoed through the valley.

There was a momentary silence in the crowded court room. Every man looked at his neighbor, questioningly and uncertain. Then with one impulse judge, lawyers, jurors, officers and bystanders sprang to their feet, rushed for exits and into the street. There the crowd scattered like sheep in all directions, some to seek the protection of the walls of buildings, others to depart from town without the ceremony of a good-bye.

Not until after the first stampede had somewhat abated was it that the factions began to take cognizance of the situation and prepare plans for concerted action.

When the first volley fired, no one about the court house knew what had really happened. No one took the time to ask. It was instinctively assumed that it was the beginning of the long-expected general battle between the French and Eversole forces.

The shooting had been done by the owner of a glorious jag, and if cooler heads had prevailed a battle might have been averted, but once the factions had reached their arms and assembled, peace was out of the question. The instigator of the trouble, one Campbell, had been engaged with several others of his friends, in a game of cards, on a hill overlooking the village. The hill is known as the Graveyard Hill. In a spirit of excessive hilarity, produced by over-indulgence in fire-water, he had stepped to the side of a tree and fired his pistol. At the upper end of town one Davidson kept a store. At the reports of the pistol Davidson looked out of a rear window of his place of business. He saw Campbell standing on the hill waving his still smoking gun. Davidson procured his Winchester rifle, took deliberate aim, then fired. Campbell sank dead to the ground.

As soon as the panic-stricken crowd had left the court house the Eversoles rushed into it and took possession of it.

Two French men, Jesse Fields and Bob Profitt, found themselves isolated in a jury room on the second floor, while the court room proper was already occupied by their enemies, the Eversoles. The two were in a precarious situation and thoroughly realized it. There seemed but one chance for escape open to them—a leap through the windows into the yard below. They saw themselves outnumbered twenty to one. Resistance would have been folly and surrender did not appeal to them. Neither side had thus far in the “war” exhibited much respect for principles of civilized warfare.

The moment the Eversoles took possession of the rooms beyond, Fields and Profitt locked the door of their room and as noiselessly as possible hoisted one of the windows. On looking into the yard below they hesitated. It was a high jump, with many chances in favor of their breaking their necks, or at least a limb or two. But when the enemy attempted to break through the door all hesitation vanished. Both leaped and landed on the ground below without sustaining injury.

This daring leap had been perceived by the Eversoles. The two men were fired upon as they ran for life toward and into the jailer’s residence for cover. This building, as well as the court house, was of brick. The two structures stood within fifteen feet of each other and fronted the same street. The Eversoles now passed their time in ventilating the thin brick walls of the little building. Fields and Profitt began to feel uncomfortably warm, but held the fort. They had an ample supply of ammunition and continued to pour volley upon volley into the windows and through the walls of the court house. All through the long afternoon the guns roared. Clouds of smoke hung low and heavy over the unfortunate town. Constant was the clatter of firearms. The incessant hiss of leaden missiles was interspersed with shouts and defiant curses while the silent terror of women and children was pitiful to behold. The whole presented a scene not easily forgotten by those who were compelled to witness it.

Thus far the battle had proved bloodless, notwithstanding the tremendous expenditure of ammunition. Neither of the belligerent armies had dared an open attack. They fought now as they had practically always fought during the war—from well-secreted places. Fortified in their quarters, they took care not to expose their persons. It was no senseless caution, for upon the appearance of an object anywhere, behind, in or under which a human being might be suspected, it became at once the target of many guns and received very close attention indeed.

With the approach of night Fields and his comrade felt that they must evacuate the premises or succumb to an attack by superior forces under cover of darkness, but to join their friends some distance away they must necessarily run a dangerous gauntlet. However, they preferred dying in the open to being caught like rats in a trap.

It was dark when the two desperate men started on their perilous journey. With heads bent down upon their breasts, like men facing a beating hail, they ran for their lives. Every gun of the enemy was trained upon them, and fired. Presently defiant yells from the French position announced to the crestfallen Eversoles that their prey had escaped them.

When the battle started French was absent from town. He arrived during the night.

All night long the battle continued with scarcely an intermission in the firing.

During the night Tom Smith and Jesse Fields succeeded in eluding the vigilance of the Eversoles and occupied the Graveyard Hill. When the first ray of dawn approached, Fields and Smith opened a terrific fire upon the Eversoles in the court house, the balls crashing through the windows, driving the occupants to seek safety by throwing themselves upon the floor.

During the early morning hours two of the Eversole men attempted to cross a street near the court house, when Fields and Smith opened fire upon them. One of the men, J. McKnight, was instantly killed, while his companion escaped. Smith and Fields used a sunken grave as a rifle pit and from a tombstone Smith took the rest for the shot that killed McKnight.

The strategic advantage of French’s men perplexed the Eversoles, who, penned up in the court house, were rendered practically helpless. The fusilade was so continuous that an attempt to return the fire from the windows would have meant certain death. The balls crashed through the windows, tearing the wood casings to splinters and the shutters were completely shot away. The furniture in the court room was thrown about and knocked into atoms. The building, from which the Eversoles had expected so much as a point of vantage, proved a death trap. To retire from it the Eversoles appeared as anxious as they had been to take possession of it. Their retreat to the river bank was effected in safety, but to prevent attack while crossing the river, Green Morris and a companion remained concealed under the banks of the river. Fields and Smith on the Graveyard Hill were the first to see the Eversoles in retreat and started in pursuit. Approaching the hiding-place of Morris, the latter fired, wounding Fields severely in the arm and thus effectually checked further pursuit. If Smith and Fields had reached the river unharmed, the record of the fight might present an increased list of casualties, as both were men of great courage and good marksmanship.

On the records of the Perry Circuit Court appears an order of Special Judge Hurst, giving his reason for the unceremonious adjournment of court. It is an interesting document. Certainly Judge Hurst’s reason for adjournment seems a valid one:

Perry Circuit Court.

4th day Nov., Term 1889.

At this term of the Court there were two armed factions in the town of Hazard, the French and Eversole factions, antagonistic to each other.

On the second night of the Court, the acting judge was shot but not wounded (?) in the French end of the town, French not being in the town at the time, but some of his men were and the next evening at dusk a “dinamite” or other cartridge with burning fuse attached was thrown over the judge’s room or house in which he stayed and exploded heavily on the other side of the house.

Court continued till the evening of the 4th day, when the two factions began heavy cross-firing at each other in earnest about and near the court house, which completely “correlled” the court, the jury, the officers and people in court for some time, and before the firing abated, the judge plainly seeing, that it was not intended that court should be further held, and it being impossible to further progress with the business and live, the court ordered the clerk to adjourn the court, and the non-combatants to save themselves as best they could. They did so, but one shot was fired at them from the Eversole quarters as they left.

The fighting continued through the next night and until about 9 o’clock the next day excepting some intervals of rest. The French side received reinforcement from Breathitt County. During this fight two men, friends of Eversoles, were killed in the battle, and it was rumored that one of the French party was badly wounded and perhaps killed and another one wounded.

The Eversole party claimed that they were destitute of ammunition next morning and retired from town without being injured thereby. The clerk left with his keys, the jury left, the judge remained till the next morning in the town and after the retreat of the Eversole party, when he received news as coming from the French side that he and the women and children could leave the town unmolested provided he did not go back to the court house, whereupon the court and some of the women and Commonwealth’s attorney quietly marched away and in pursuance to the court’s orders this court is hereby adjourned in course.

This order was signed at the August Special Term of the court 1890 and on the 11th day of August, 1890.

Immediately after the battle the factions scattered through the neighboring counties, scouting in small detachments, and continually shifting quarters.

A special term of the Perry Circuit Court was called for August, 1890. On the night of July 4th, however, a deed was perpetrated which was intended to and did block the business of the court.

The town was awakened by the shrill cry of “fire,” the crackling and crashing of burning and falling timbers—the court house was a seething mass of fire, and the people could only look on as the structure succumbed to the consuming element. There was never any question as to the origin of the fire. It was the work of incendiaries. Fortunately, most of the records were saved.

Many of the feudists now began to tire of the constant scouting. There was not enough real fighting to make it interesting. Occasional ambuscades had lost their charm. Many longed for peace and home. Among these was Robin Cornett, an Eversole man. Pretending friends encouraged him to return to his home. He did so, and as day after day passed without the least mishap, he often visiting Hazard in apparent safety, he relaxed his vigilance, and fell,—a victim of relentless assassins.

One morning (July, 1890) Cornett, in company of his little brother, started to the field to cut oats. Finding the grain not ripe enough, he abandoned the field work and proceeded to the woods to peel logs. A tree, which he had cut, fell across a narrow ravine, elevating portions of the trunk several feet above the ground. He leaped upon it, ax in hand, when shots from the near bushes accomplished another foul assassination. Cornett sank dead upon the log, while his little brother ran for life and escaped.

There can be no doubt that Cornett’s doom had been sealed the instant he returned home. The murder had been planned and was executed with cruel cunning and occupies a front rank among the many infamous assassinations, which have given this feud such notoriety.

At the special term of the Circuit Court, Judge Lilly appeared, accompanied by a detachment of State Guards, commanded by Adjutant-General Gaithers of Louisville, Ky. The court house had not been rebuilt and a large tent served the purpose. It soon became evident that the court meant business. A large number of deputy sheriffs were sworn in to supplant the inefficient Home Guards. These were at once disbanded and ordered to return the accoutrements they had received, but the few articles turned over were hardly worth the shipping expenses, many of the guns being broken.

Within a few days after court had begun, prisoners were brought into court as fast as indictments were found. The jail became so crowded that many prisoners were kept in a strongly guarded tent. As rapidly as the cases were called up and the accused were presented in court, they were transferred to the Clark County Circuit Court for trial. It was a wise and necessary step indeed. Not only would it have been impossible to secure qualified jurors in Perry County, but the attendance of the accused, their friends and witnesses would most probably have invited a clash between the contending factions.

The last days of the term of court, commonly called the “Blanket Court” had come and gone without the least disturbance, and the removal of the prisoners to the Winchester jail was also effected without mishap. The backbone of the war was at last broken. A strange, but welcome, calm succeeded turbulence, bloodshed, and anarchy.

A great change had come over the caged warriors. Disarmed and crowded in the narrow confines of a prison, they faced each other but the deadly Winchesters were no longer in reach. Fast in the clutches of the law, the law which for so long they had disregarded, evaded, shamefully violated, they now had ample opportunity for reflection and sober reasoning. The absorbing and very pertinent question: How to escape the punishment of the law worried them. It was a knotty problem indeed. The lions, made captives, were now tame and submissive. For the first few days after these foes met in prison, hatred and bitter feeling found vent in abusive epithets and fistic encounters, but the realization of helplessness reminded them of the need of making friends out of enemies. They realized their power to destroy each other in the courts, but would not the destroyer himself be destroyed? Revenge could only open more cell doors, or furnish culprits for the gallows. It was this prospect of conviction, of punishment, which effected at last what bloodshed could never have accomplished—it reconciled in a measure the enemies of old, some of them actually becoming friends, and thus again effectually clogging the legal machinery. The necessity of self-preservation brought matters around in such shape that we find men who had opposed each other in deadly combat, fighting side by side the legal battles in court. None of the prisoners was allowed bail, but after removal to Clark County, one after another of the accused demanded examining trials and upon being allowed bail, readily executed bonds and returned to their homes and families, which many of them had not seen for months.

With the removal of French, Judge Combs and others of the feudists returned an era of peace which continued uninterrupted until 1894, with the exception of a street fight in the town of Hazard between some of the Eversole faction and Jesse Fields, a French follower.

In this battle some of the Eversoles and Fields were wounded, and a colored bystander was killed by a stray bullet.

In 1894 occurred the last assassination as the direct outcome of the feud.

Tired with a life that now separated old Judge Combs from his family and friends, he determined to and did return to Hazard to round out the declining years of his life.

He might have lived in perfect peace and security elsewhere, but the humble mountain home in the village of Hazard, so dear to him through the associations of his youth and manhood, now attracted him more than any other spot on earth. He could not bring himself to desert it once and for all, in the chilly winter of old age.

Notwithstanding his faults, and his record during the feud shows him to have been at fault on more than one occasion, he had a host of friends, and these tried hard to dissuade him from his purpose. But he had formed his resolve, and refused to be guided by well-meant advice.

There is something very pathetic in this old man’s attachment for a home which, for years, had offered him danger instead of peace, sorrow instead of happiness.

He had visited his home surreptitiously on several occasions since his removal therefrom. On one of these visits he had narrowly escaped death by assassination. This attempt upon his life should have convinced him that his doom was sealed, that his death had been decreed. Yet, notwithstanding all this, Judge Combs returned to Hazard to reside. But a little while afterwards he succumbed to the assassins’ bullets.

The murder was committed in broad-open daylight, in plain view of many townspeople, and, also from ambush.

At the moment the fatal shot was fired, the old man was engaged with several of his friends and neighbors in commonplace conversation.

Within a few feet of the group of men stood a fence enclosing a lot planted with corn, which, together with the thick and tall growth of weeds and bushes, offered the assassins admirable opportunity to approach their victim to within a few feet without danger of discovery.

No one noticed the slight rustling of the corn blades. No one saw the hand that parted them skilfully to make way for the gun which accomplished its deadly work. There was a puff of smoke, a loud report and Judge Combs reeled. Suddenly he straightened himself up, stood apparently undecided for a moment, then walked across the street toward home. At its threshold he sank to the ground and expired without a groan.

The murderers had evidently been determined to guard against any possible blunders which had, on former occasions, saved the old man’s life. For from the moment the shot was fired up to the time the old man fell dead, the murderous gun continually covered him, ready for instant service should it appear that the first shot had not been fatal.

After the victim had fallen to the ground, the principal of the assassins deliberately walked to the rear of the lot. Here he was joined by one of his confederates. A third had already opened fire and continued a fusilade from across the river for the evident purpose of pretending the presence of a large force and thus by intimidation to prevent pursuit.

The three confederates then proceeded calmly down the river. Their retreat was deliberate. At no time did they exhibit the slightest apprehension of danger or fear of pursuers.

The utter recklessness and boldness with which the crime had been committed completely stupefied the townspeople. Intelligent, prompt action was out of the question for a time. Not until the murderers had had a long start did it become possible to organize a posse.

At last the fugitives were sighted by the pursuers. A general exchange of shots followed. One of the outlaws was wounded. He continued his flight with difficulty.

A running fight was now kept up for a great distance. Then the fugitives disappeared in the dense mountain forests and the chase was given up. But one member of the posse was wounded.

Several of the eye-witnesses of the tragedy and members of the pursuing posse had recognized Joe Adkins, Jesse Fields and one Boon Frazier as the fugitives. Joe Adkins was the man who had fired the fatal shot which took the life of the old man Combs.

The three parties mentioned were in due time indicted. Adkins and Fields were arrested. Frazier was never caught.

The cases against Adkins and Fields were transferred to another district in Kentucky for trial. The best legal talent of the state participated in the famous trial. Honorable W. C. P. Breckinridge, a lawyer and orator of national fame, had been retained as counsel for the defence.

Fields and Adkins had been French men all through the feud, in fact, had been among his most trusted lieutenants since its commencement. Rumor, therefore, quickly associated the name of French with the murder of Judge Combs. French stoutly denied any complicity in this affair. Then, like a thunderbolt from a clear sky, came the startling intelligence that Tom Smith, another French warrior, had given out a confession which seriously compromised French.

Smith was then under sentence of death at Jackson, Breathitt County, for the murder of Dr. John E. Rader. As is usual with doomed felons, he became converted and sought to wash his sin-stained soul whiter than snow by a confession. It set forth that he had been present at the home of Jesse Fields on Buckhorn Creek, Breathitt County, at a time when French, Adkins and Fields discussed and perfected plans for the assassination of Judge Combs; that he, Smith, would have assisted in the dastardly murder but for a wound which he had a short time before received in a pistol duel with Town Marshal Mann on the streets of Jackson.

This confession resulted in French also being indicted.

The confession itself was of no importance from a legal standpoint. It, however, materially assisted and strengthened the prosecution by uncovering certain circumstances of which it might otherwise have remained in ignorance. The friends of the murdered judge pointed out with emphasis and logic that Smith had always been a French confederate, had fought for him, taken life for him; that he had told the truth about his participation in the murders of Joe Eversole, Nick Combs, Shade Combs, Cornett, McKnight and Doctor Rader. Was there any reason, they asked, why Smith should have lied in regard to French’s complicity in the murder of Judge Combs, yet had told the truth concerning all things else. Why, they argued, should Smith desire the ruin of his friend, his companion in arms, his chieftain, and accomplish it by false statements, when the truth would save him?

French was indicted, tried and acquitted. On the first trial of Adkins and Fields both received life sentences. The cases were taken to the Court of Appeals and there, in an exhaustive opinion, reversed.

The second trial resulted in a life sentence for Adkins and the acquittal of Jesse Fields. Adkins, however, has been a free man again, lo—these many years. A life sentence in Kentucky is not what it seems.

Thus ended the last act of the bloody drama—the assassination of Judge Combs. He was murdered because he had espoused the cause of Joe Eversole at the breaking out of the war. Joe was his kinsman. As has been said, Judge Combs undoubtedly contributed to the state of anarchy which continued for so long in Perry County and disgraced American civilization. As a sworn officer he had no right to permit love for his kinsman, his friendship and affection for Eversole, to swerve him from plain duty. Judge Combs’ partiality in the discharge of his duties as judge of the county doubtlessly hastened the conflict, for while it protected one faction, it furnished good and sufficient reasons to the other side to place no confidence in his administration of the law, and roused them to savage, retaliatory crimes. Notwithstanding all this, this last assassination was cowardly, as all the others, for that matter. If Judge Combs deserved death, we may well ask how many of the other participants in this feud ought to have shared a similar fate at the hands of the law?