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JESSE JAMES' CAVE ["Ottawa Herald," Vol. XXXIII., No. 274. 6 Jan 1926?] Not many tourists who pound across the Marais des Cygnes bridge south of Pomona on the Pomona-Wiliamsburg road are aware that they make intimate passage of a high-light point in the bandit history of the state. Just at the end of the bridge, on the west side is a recess in a sand-stone bluff that is currently designated as a cave. In early days it really attained the dignity of a cavern, but the erosions of time and storms have worn it down to a mere depression in the face of the bluff, however, it still carries its chief attraction, the alleged signature of members of the James and Younger gangs cared on the soft stone by the bandits at divers visits. A Habitat of Bandits It is legendary that not only have Frank and Jesse James spent time in the cave, but that on at least one occasion the four Younger brothers - there were three who were connected with the James boys in after years of their bandit life - are said to have made brief headquarters there. This was in the time of Quantrell, when the Youngers, mere boys, became connected with that gang of guerillas, the terror of southern Missouri and the Kansas border during the civil war. The proclamation of peace was not relished by these freebooters, and the restless spirit of adventure and dare deviltry kept their neighborhod uneasy for a long time after the great American conflict. Shortly after the close of the war the Youngers concluded to move west toward the mines of Colorado and in pursuance of this plan joined a wagon train. For some reason they missed connection with the train out of Kansas City, arriving after it had departed. They set out to catch it, taking a route that led through Council Grove via Osawatomie and up the Marais des Cygnes river. It was on this trip, according to the legend, that they camped one night in the Pomona cave, and noting the carved names of the James boys added theirs to the collection. The account is that the four Youngers caught up with the wagoneers near Council Grove. For the first week things went smoothly enough - poker games were finished without a funeral and whisky kept tongues oily without precipitating serious debate. This even tenor was unnatural, considering the elements enlisted in the expedition Then There Were Only Three Then one evening the elder of the Youngers became involved in a spirited discussion with a teamster and incautiously denominated the muleteer as a liar. The recipient of the doubtful compliment whipped out his revolver. Younger's jaw dropped, for, strange to say, he was for once without his sidearms. "You wouldn't kill an unarmed cuss without a gun," he whined. The teamster, who had a spirit of fairness in his make-up, dropped his muzzle, and wheeling around said: "I advise you to heel yourself." Next morning, when the teamster had arisen from breakfast and was leaning on one of his mules, he heard a voice, and turning about looked blankly into the muzzle of a "forty-four" behind which was the vengeful Younger. "It's me who has the drop, this time," leered the desperado. "You wouldn't shoot me like a dog, without a chance," said the teamster, cooly. "The hell I wouldn't," snapped out Younger, pulling the trigger. The hammer
fell with a slap on a defective cartridge. The next instant the teamster's weapon blazed
and thereafter the quartet of players was at an end. [ Not everyone believes that Jesse James and his outlaw friends ever stepped foot in this cave south of Pomona.] |
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