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Official newspaper files of the early West record many stories of famous and notorious characters of that period.

Among them, Quantrell's Raiders, a phrase that struck terror to the hearts of Kansas and Missouri families during the Civil War years of 1860 to 1865.

It meant Quantrell, a polished but depraved ex-school teacher who led his bloodthirsty horde through five reckless, ferocious years of murder and pillage.

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Union troopers.

Thanks for the bed and board, Mr. Wilson.

It's a pleasure meeting a Union sympathizer in Missouri.

It's a pleasure to serve you, sir.

Have you seen Quantrell or any of his cutthroat guerrillas? Tell him he better watch out. General Lane's boys are on his tail.

Good day, sir.

Back up, Yankees.

Bushwackers.

Your dirty secessionist, you informed on us.

Would you mind telling us who we have the pleasure of meeting?

Not at all. Charles Quantrell.

What's the matter? Did that name scare you?

We've heard things.

As prisoners, we're entitled to certain rights.

You wouldn't, sir.

We're surrendering peacefully. We...

Gunshot.

Wilson.

Yes, sir.

Get them out of here.

Are you sure you'll get their boots and their guns?

They won't need them anymore.

And, uh, Wilson, we're taking over your ranch's headquarters.

You can have it and welcome, sir.

Anything that will help beat them. No good lowdown, no count Yankees.

We'll pitch our headquarters tent over there. Move the rest of the troops up immediately.

Yes, sir.

Found this one spying on us from the woods, Captain.

Get down.

Who are you? What are you doing around here? Come on, tell me the truth.

All right, sir. I'm Mrs. John Clements. I'm trying to find my husband.

Yankees burned our home last week and I got nowhere to go.

I've got to find him. I've just got to find him.

Why are you dressed like a boy?

I... I thought I'd be safer.

Among the Federals, yes.

I'm a woman. I'm a woman.

I... I thought I'd be safer.

Among the Federals, yes. You're in Southern country, ma'am.

Where a gentlewoman is always safe.

You're free to go. My compliments.

Thank you, Captain.

Do you believe it, Captain? No.

Why turn her loose? What would you have done, Todd?

Well, I would have... Listen, we don't take prisoners. We don't war on women.

What else is there to do?

I'm Matt Clark, railroad detective.

Now serving with the Union Army as a spy.

Division headquarters had sent me down here because as a railroad man, I knew the country.

I was told to report to Colonel Marsham in charge of intelligence for the border command for further instructions.

He wasn't in when I arrived, but I didn't have long to wait.

Matt Clark? That's right, sir.

Colonel Marsham. Sit down. Thank you.

You know why you're here? In general, sir, not specifically.

We want some information concerning Quantrell, the guerrilla leader.

You've heard of him, I imagine.

There isn't a man in the West who hasn't, sir.

He's a border butcher who never takes prisoners.

That's your man. If you care to change your mind, of course, there's still time.

I didn't expect a better roses, Colonel. Of course, there's a few questions.

First, do I work alone? No.

We have definite ideas on that.

You'll work with a woman who's just come from Missouri.

A woman? You'll be a young couple from Missouri whose home has been burned by the Jayhawkers.

You want revenge. You will meet Quantrell personally.

Wow. As I said, there's still time to change your mind.

I said wow, Colonel. I didn't say no.

Frankie Adams. Matt Clark.

Oh, am I glad to see you, Matt.

I take it you two have met before.

We've worked together for years.

We hear about this all the time, Colonel.

Let's say there's very little we don't know about the people we deal with, friend or enemy.

I've been telling Matt the object of the mission.

Oh, exciting, isn't it? I should have known you'd be the lady in the case.

Sit down, both of you. Frankie met Quantrell last week.

He's holed up across the line at the Wilson Ranch.

He's using the Civil War as an excuse to write his personal history in blood.

A little Napoleon with visions of empire.

He's preparing something big, something that will give him the military glory he craves.

It might mean an invasion of Kansas, an attack on one of our towns.

It might even mean this very post.

That's where you two come in. That's your job.

Get me the information, and then I can demand and get the men I need.

Here, I'll give you what details I can.

Now, here we are.

In order, we crossed the Confederate lines into Missouri.

We were both aware that as spies we were on our own

and could expect no help from Colonel Marshal or anybody else.

Up to now, our traveling had been done at night.

But nearing Quantrell's camp, we came out into the open.

For two days, we hadn't met a living soul.

The area had been abandoned since 1854

because of the constant raiding back and forth across the border.

How much farther?

We're almost to the farm now.

See what's in their packs. Get off your horses.

I was wondering when this was going to happen.

Just don't be nervous, that's all.

Don't be nervous?

I'm not nervous.

I'm not nervous.

I'm not nervous.

I'm not nervous.

I was wondering when this was going to happen.

Just don't be nervous, that's all.

Don't even remind me of it.

Where are you going?

No place, just moving along. Who are you?

If you're Yankees or Union sympathizers,

start making your peace with the Lord.

I'm Bill Anderson.

Bloody Bill?

Some folks call me that.

Well, I'm sure proud to know you, Bill.

This is my missus.

Wandering around these parts can be mighty dangerous, Clint.

Or maybe you ain't heard.

I heard Charlie Quantrell was looking for fighting men, that's what I heard.

Sure would like to join up.

Follow me.

You and your missus wait here, Clemens.

Not to leave till the captain talks to him.

Come in.

Sit down, you're just in time.

I told the secretary how I felt about these stupid rules of war.

He asked me what I'd do.

I told him I'd wage such a war as to make surrender impossible.

I'd cover the armies of the Union with blood.

I would invade, I would exterminate,

and I would keep right on killing until I was the victor, complete and unquestioned.

We're fighting a holy war of vengeance.

Right now, sitting over there in Lawrence is Jim Lane and William.

A hundred more mad dog Yankees just like him.

They're the men who burned your ranches, who insulted your mothers and your sisters.

Stand at attention.

Have your men check their guns and their saddles.

We'll hit Lawrence tonight.

We'll wipe it off the face of the earth.

Yes, sir.

They'll be ready at sundown.

Well, I picked up a man on the way in, Charlie.

Oh, Eleventh Hour recruit, huh?

Where is he?

I'll get him.

Clements?

Yes, sir.

The captain will see you now.

Right here.

No.

If anything happens, I want to be with you.

Here's the new recruit, Captain.

His name is Clements.

Anderson says you want to sign up.

That's right, sir.

Well, who's the girl?

My wife, sir.

You're leaving a pretty girl like her at home?

The South needs every man it can get, sir.

I want to fight.

All right.

You'll do.

Anderson, see that he draws his provisions

and gets his ammunition.

He'll ride with us tonight.

Come on, Clements.

Just a minute, miss.

I want to talk with your wife.

It's all right, honey.

Go on.

All right.

Now, just what do you plan on doing with your husband away

fighting a war?

Oh, I can nurse.

Or I can smuggle ammunition from Kansas City

just like the other woman.

Mighty pretty to be wasting undangered work like that.

These are cruel times.

Everybody has to take a chance.

A woman as pretty as you should make or take her own chances.

Don't talk to me like that.

I don't like it.

Hey, wait a minute.

You're that little spitfire I was talking to you last week,

aren't you?

I told you.

I was looking for my husband.

And I found him.

And I'm staying by him.

Loyal little kitten, aren't you?

No wonder.

Oh.

How long you been married?

Three years.

Three years married to a clod of a farmer.

Hasn't even enough to buy you a gingham dress or a bonnet.

You deserve better than that.

I love him.

That's worth more to me than a dress.

Is it worth more than silk gowns?

Trunks full of them?

More than you can wear in an entire year?

Is it worth more than three hot meals a day?

More than a feather bed to spend your nights resting on?

Not even you have that much these days.

But I will have.

We all will.

After Lawrence, we'll have luxury like we had it before.

Lawrence?

I'm a big man on the border.

Not that big.

What do you think I'm gathering all these men together for?

To raid a whistle stop?

After tonight, my name will be spoken of with respect

throughout the entire South.

You ride along with me to Lawrence tonight,

and I'll show you.

Lawrence tonight.

You know something?

I just might change my mind.

I just might do that little thing.

I trust Mrs. Clemens.

I sincerely trust this is some kind of a joke.

Though in extremely poor taste.

No joke, Quantrell.

Turn around.

You fire that thing, once the whole camp will come around it.

Be one sure way of getting you, though.

Now, if you'll just oblige by stepping over there,

we'll both have a chance.

John?

Oh, John!

Aren't you going to kiss me goodbye?

Huh?

I got the information.

Where's Quantrell?

I had the pistol with him.

The Yankee Smurries!

They've taken the camp.

They've warned the Yankee troops.

But too late.

Too late.

Charlie!

Charlie, you two!

Charlie, you two!

Charlie!

Charlie!

He's going to get you!

We'll have to ride in Lawrence herself and warn the townspeople.

Well.

We reached Lawrence an hour after midnight.

As we rode down the street, the town was asleep and as still as death.

Hot trails coming, man! Get your guns! Hot trails coming!

Get the women and children in the courthouse.

All right, Matt.

Hurry up with that band game! You never got a turn on a burning ride!

Here they come! Look to your guns, Matt!

Hold your fire until you get a target!

Save that war, Captain! That's a bunch of farmers! Charge!

Employee men, use the torch! Burn the town!

Yes, sir!

It began to be a losing fight.

Two thousand citizens, mostly women and children and untrained men,

against three hundred hardened ruffians at the border.

Fire the dragon! Set it against the barricades!

Ontrell had time to murder, loot and burn.

He wrote his name that night in the Kansas history with fire and blood.

He achieved his inhuman and evil ambition and then as suddenly as he came,

he has suddenly went away, leaving chaos and ashes and a thousand broken hearts.

Frankie and I were amongst the lucky ones that survived that night.

Quatrelle's raiders were pursued and sections of his band were cut off and destroyed.

I was personally detailed by Colonel Marshall to take as many men as I needed

and pursue Quatrelle himself until I killed or captured him.

During the months we spent tracking him down, he was declared an outlaw by the Confederate Army,

the very forces he had been pretending to serve.

In 1865, we got word that he was down in Kentucky at Wakefield's Ranch not far from Louisville.

Quatrelle's in that barn. We don't want to get caught like sitting ducks.

This mountain, take cover.

We must have been seen as he rode up, or as it turned out.

We can't do any good in here. We'll do like we've always done.

We'll cut through somehow, boys. We'll cut through.

Don't surrender while you still have a chance.

Get on your horses. We'll run for it.

Open the door.

On your horses and after them, men, and I'll take Quatrelle.

I'll say one thing for Quatrelle. As long as he could move, he never quit.

I'll get you to a doctor as soon as possible.

Never mind. I know what it's like to die.

I've always wanted to kill him. I've killed many men.

I regret nothing. Not even this.

No, Quatrelle, the mad dog of the border, wasn't dead yet.

But he was through.

The towns of Kansas and Missouri would never again be pillaged,

nor would his victims ever again hear that terrible rebel yell.

About a month later, Frankie and I were summoned to the colonel's headquarters.

Good afternoon, Colonel.

Hello, Frankie. Matt.

Howdy, Colonel. You sent for us, huh?

Yes, I did. I want to thank you both for a job well done.

Here's something that might interest you.

It's a telegram from Louisville, Kentucky.

William Clark Quatrelle, born in Canal Dover, Ohio, but known in Missouri as Charlie Quatrelle.

You see, Frankie lied to people.

Said he'd come from Maryland to make them think he was a southerner.

He even changed his name to Charlie Quatrelle.

Died here at the hospital of the military prison the sixth day of June, 1865.

Signed, W.L. Sloan.

Well, I guess that's the end of the border raiders.

More than that, Frankie. It looks like the end of this terrible war.

It can't last much longer.

By the way, I've arranged with Central Intelligence for a two-weeks leave of absence for both of you.

Oh, thanks, Colonel.

Well, get out of here before somebody changes his mind.

Last one out is a no-good, low-down, no-count Yankie.

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