Chapter I: Want to Go Home, 364 (10)

Alice also was brave in her way. She resigned herself patiently to the long and frequent absence of her beloved husband, and no out-of-door work seemed too hard for her to perform. All through the autumn, she and the other women of the household had helped to gather the crops, tend the cows, and feed the horses. When it came William’s turn to patrol Lawrence, or to work at the trenches through the night, she never asked him to stay with her. She only gave him a tenderer kiss, a more lingering pressure of the hand, which seemed to say, “This may be our last farewell.”

Upon one of these occasions, he had been absent several days, and she sat at her sewing, longing, longing to hear the sound of his voice. The tramp of a horse was heard. She sprung up, and looked from the little window. William was not there, kissing his hand to her, as he was wont to do. She ran out of the door, and meeting one of his brothers, said, in a disappointed tone, “I thought William had come. He sent word he would come to-day.” He answered that it was merely one of the horses that had got loose. But as she went into the house, he looked at his wife, and said, “Poor Alice! God grant that it may not be as we fear.”

Alas, it was William’s horse, that had rushed by so fleetly, without a rider, and with the saddle turned. Too soon they learned that he had been shot in the back by a party of ruffians, after he had told them he was unarmed and going home to see his family. He supposed that even Border Ruffians would not be so cowardly as to take his life under such circumstances.

The day passed without any one’s being able to muster sufficient courage to tell the mournful tidings to his widow. She had long expected it, and she met it with a dreadful calmness. She uttered no scream, and shed no tear. She became pallid as marble, and pressed her hand hard upon her heart. She was stupefied and stunned by that overwhelming agony.

Of all the outrages none had produced so much excitement as this. It was so dastardly to shoot an unarmed man in the back, without provocation! Then Mr. Bruce was universally beloved. His justice and moderation were known unto all men. The Indians knew how to respect those qualities, which they so rarely meet in white men. The Chiefs of the Delawares and the Shawnees came to offer their aid; and General Robinson received them with that personal respect, which so peculiarly commends itself to Indian dignity. As the news spread through the Territory, small bands of volunteers came in from all directions. There were five hundred armed men in Lawrence. Every cabin was a barrack. The Free State Hotel was crowded with men earnestly discussing what measures should be taken for the public safety. General Robinson, pale and anxious, moved among them, renewing his advice to be patient and forbearing. Up to this period, the citizens of Kansas had made no aggressions on their merciless foes, and had used no violence in self-defence. But it was not easy to restrain them now. Human nature had been goaded beyond endurance, and men were in the mood to do, or die. When he told them Governor Shannon was coming to inquire into the state of things, some shook their heads despondingly, while the more fiery spirits cursed Governor Shannon, and contemptuously asked what good could be expected from _him_. Out on the prairie, troops were being drilled to the tunes of ’76. The Wyandotts’ were riding in, single-file, sitting their noble steeds like centaurs. The mettlesome Colonel Lane was in his element. He descanted, with untiring volubility, on the rights of American citizens, and the cruel circumstances attending the death of Bruce. Men clenched their rifles and drew their breath hard, while they listened. There is no mistaking the symptoms. The old spirit of Lexington and Concord is here! They had better not trifle with the Puritan blood much longer!

Anon, they brought in the body of the murdered man. His countenance was placid, as the sleep of childhood. The widow asked to see him, and tenderly they brought her to that couch of death. Oh, what a shriek was there! Father of mercies! it went up to thy throne. Wilt thou not answer it? In view of that suffocating agony, the soldiers bowed their heads and wept.

When Governor Shannon, with his escort, came riding across the prairie, there was none to invoke a blessing on him. General Robinson went out to receive him, and some one suggested that the chief magistrate appointed by the President ought to be received with cheers. The door of the room where the murdered body lay was open, and men saw it, as they passed in and out. The sobs of the broken hearted widow were heard from the room adjoining. His reception was very much like that of Richard Third, who caused the murder of his brother’s children. John Bradford went through a formal introduction to Governor Shannon, but Katie turned quickly away, saying, “If _he_ had done his duty, this would not have happened.” The brothers of William Bruce turned away also, and said coldly, “We have no faith in that man.” The Governor saw plainly enough that the blood of Kansas was up to fever heat, and that it was prudent to cool it down. He was very courteous and conciliatory, and promised to disperse the bands of ruffians at Franklin and elsewhere. General Robinson co-operated with him in these efforts at pacification. He addressed the people in a speech setting forth mutual mistakes and misrepresentations, which he trusted time would correct. He had always shown himself brave in danger, and they knew that he was cautious for the good of Kansas, not for his own interest or safety. Most of them yielded to his arguments, and accepted his invitation to a supper at the Free State Hotel, in honor of peace restored. But some walked away, contemptuously, saying, “Governor _Sham_!”

The settlers, far and near, formed a procession to escort the body of William Bruce to its last resting place. Alice kept up her strength to witness all the ceremonies, and only low stifled sobs came from her breaking heart when the coffin was lowered from her sight. But after that she broke down rapidly. The long-continued pressure of fears and horrors had completely shattered her nervous system. She rejected food, and seemed never to sleep. As she appeared to feel more at home with Katie, than she did with any one else, they concluded to establish her in the humble apartment where she had first lived with William. Pale and silent she had been ever since she lost him; but gradually a strange fixed expression came over her face, as if the body was vacated by the soul. Soon she was utterly helpless, and Katie fed and tended her, as if she were an infant. The winter proved, as the Indians had predicted, cold beyond any within the memory of man. The settlers, many of them plundered of all their money, and most of their clothing, suffered cruelly. Not a few of them returned to their homes in Ohio, Pennsylvania, and New England. Indications multiplied that peace would be of short duration. Poor Kate! How she had changed! Thin as a skeleton, with eyes so large and bright! But thinking always of others before herself, she said, “Mother, dear, worse troubles are coming upon us, than we have ever had. John and I have resolved that, living or dying, we will abide by Kansas. But had’nt you, and Flora, and Tom, better return to Massachusetts?”

The mother looked at her younger children and awaited their answer. “I have lived through scenes that make men of boys,” said Thomas. “I will have a free home, or a grave, in Kansas.”

“And you Flora?” inquired the mother.

“The men of Kansas have need of nurses for the sick and wounded,” she replied, “I will stay and help Katie.”

“I will abide by my children, my _brave_ children,” said the mother. “God help us all to do our duty!”

Alice sat bolstered in her chair by the fire, unconscious of the solemn compact. “Alas,” said Katie, “how I wish we could convey her safely to her mother! but she is too feeble to be removed.”

Emerging from the terrible winter of 1855, the returning sunshine brought some gleams of hope to the suffering colony. They hoped that more emigrants would come in, and they knew the fertile soil would yield abundant crops, if there were hands to till it. But the Border Ruffians soon dashed the cup of pleasant anticipation from their lips. They swore they would stop all Yankee emigrants from going into Kansas; and they renewed their threats to “wipe out Lawrence.” Again they made inroads into the Territory, robbing the already impoverished settlers, and especially seeking to deprive them of arms. During one of these forays, they seized a woman, whom they suspected of concealing ammunition, and dragged her into the woods, where she was subjected to their brutal outrages.

When Kate Bradford heard of this, her naturally pleasant countenance assumed an expression stern almost to fierceness. “I called them _savages_” she said, “when they scalped some of their victims; but I did injustice to the savages; for, in their worst cruelties, _they_ always respected the modesty of women.” From that time, she practiced with rifle and pistol, and became expert in using them. A similar spirit was roused in several of the women, who agreed to act under her command, if the emergencies of the time required it. Circumstances had goaded her to this. Her nature was kindly as ever, and she prayed fervently to God that no blood might ever rest upon her hands. All along, she had been sustained by the belief that aid would come to Kansas. She had such pride in American institutions, she _could_ not believe that the government of her country was in league with such abominations and outrages, until the return of messenger after messenger sent to Washington, made the damning proof too strong to be resisted. Then her old love of New England increased a hundred-fold; for all her hopes centred _there_. The Pilgrims that came over in the May Flower, the men and women of ’76, had always been the heroes of her imagination; and the crisis, in which she now found _herself_ living and acting, rendered _their_ crown of glory more luminous in her memory. “Massachusetts will help us,” she was wont to say, with somewhat of filial pride in the confident tones of her voice. “_Massachusetts_ will not look on with indifference, while her emigrant children are driven into a pen-fold to be slaughtered like sheep, by those whom long habits of slaveholding have made familiar with every form of violence and wrong.”

Drearily, drearily, the weeks passed away. Men and women were limping about, with feet that had been frozen during the winter’s severest cold. Many had no guns to shoot game, to protect them from the wolves, or from enemies far worse than wolves. Their ammunition had been stolen from them, provisions were intercepted on the way, and every breeze brought rumours that the ruffians were making ready to “wipe out Lawrence.” Newspapers from the North, and letters from friends, were long delayed, and often destroyed on the way. The haggard settlers looked at each other with forlorn helplessness. They had reached the extremest point of desolation. Still John and Katie said, “Massachusetts will help us. _Depend_ upon it, Massachusetts will not desert her children in their utmost need.” And other brave hearts responded to the cheering words, saying, “Ohio will help us.” “Connecticut will not forget us.” “Illinois will come to the rescue.”

They had said this to each other, at the close of one of their darkest days, when lo! a messenger, sent to Kansas city for letters and papers consigned to a friend there, was seen riding across the prairie. Through various perils, he had brought the packages safely to Lawrence. They were seized and torn open with eager, trembling hands. A crowd of men and women assembled at the printing-office, to hear the news. Mr. Bradford was reading aloud to them, when his countenance suddenly fell. “Go on! Go on!” cried the anxious listeners. He gasped out,” “The Legislature of Texas has voted to give fifty thousand dollars to make Kansas a Slave State.”

“And Massachusetts? What has Massachusetts done?” asked Kate, with nervous eagerness.

He lowered his eyes, as one ashamed of his mother, while he answered, “The Legislature of Massachusetts has voted not to give one dollar to make Kansas a Free State.”

In the midst of all the sufferings that had harrowed her soul, Katie had always remained calm and collected. Now, for the first time, she groaned aloud; and, throwing her arms wildly toward heaven, she exclaimed, in tones of bitter anguish, “Oh, Massachusetts! How I have _loved_ thee! How I have _trusted_ in thee!” Then bowing her head in her hands, she sobbed out, “I _could_ not have believed it.” But Massachusetts was far off. The Governor and Legislature of her native state did not hear her appeal. They were busy with other things that came home to their _business_, not to their _bosoms_.

* * * * *

On the 21st of May, 1856, Lawrence _was_ “wiped out.” Companies of Ruffians encamped around it; a furious tipsy crew, in motley garments. One band carried a banner with a tiger ready to spring; the motto, “You Yankees tremble! and abolitionists fall?” Another carried a flag marked, “South Carolina,” with a crimson star in the centre, the motto, “Southern Rights.” Over Mount Oread floated a blood-red pirate flag, fit emblem of the Border Ruffians; and by its side, a suitable companion for it now, floated the United States flag. What cared New England that _her_ six stars were there, in shameful “Union” with that blood-red flag?

President Pierce issued a proclamation, which made it treason for the citizens to defend themselves. The best and truest men were arrested and imprisoned as traitors, because they had no respect for the laws passed upon them by a Missouri rabble, with bowie-knives and revolvers.

The printing-press was broken in pieces; the types scattered; the Free State Hotel demolished; General Robinson’s house, with its valuable library, burned to the ground; and many of the cabins set on fire. No time was allowed to remove any thing from the dwellings. Trunks and bureaus were ransacked; daguerreotypes and pictures of dear home friends were cut and smashed; and letters scattered and trampled in the mud. The women and children had been ordered out, at the commencement of these outrages. Mothers were weeping, as they fled across the prairies, and the poor bewildered little ones were screaming and crying in every direction.

What cared New England that _her_ six stars were looking down upon the scene, in shameful “Union” with that blood-red flag?

Above the noise of tumbling stones, and crackling roofs, and screaming children, rose that horrid yell of the Border Ruffians. “Damn the Yankees!” “Give ’em hell!”

A figure, tall as Ajax, loomed up above the savage crowd, calling out, “I’m down on all _sich_ fixens. Allers tole yer ’twas darned mean to come over into the Territory an vote for these fellers. I’m pro-slave myself. I’d like to see him that dar’d to call me an abolitionist; but I tell yer what, boys, this ere’s cuttin up a little _too_ high.” He was interrupted with shouts of, “Hold your jaw!” “Shut up! you damned ole fool!” Still he remonstrated: “This is a breakin down the rights o’ American citizens. You might jist as well smash my ole woman’s bureau. Them ar traps are personal property. I’m down on all sich fixens.”

“Pitch into him!” cried the rabble; and they did “pitch into him,” amid yells and laughter. Tom Thorpe was silenced. He learned the uselessness of trying to moderate slavery, or ameliorate murder.

Katie’s first care had been to consign little Johnny to her brother; and the next was to place the helpless Alice in her mother’s arms, to be conveyed to a hut half a mile off. Then she held a hurried conference with her husband about a suitable place to conceal some fire-arms for future use; and snatching up a box of letters and small valuables, she fled with Flora, pistol in hand. When Alice had been cared for, as well as the exigencies of the moment would permit, she ran back to aid some of her sickly neighbours, who were breaking down with the weight of their clinging children. Then, swift as an ostrich, the daring woman ran back to Lawrence, to pick up some of the scattered clothes and bedding, which her husband and his neighbours carried off as fast as she could heap it on their shoulders. The Ruffians were so busy with the printing-press and the Hotel, and she watched opportunities so cautiously, that she had rescued many things from the wreck, before they noticed her. They drove her off with oaths and ribald jests. She stood within sight of her blazing home, and her hand was on her pistol. The temptation was strong. But she remembered the oft-repeated words of General Robinson: “Act _only_ on the defensive. Make no aggressions. Keep the cause of Kansas sacred.” She only turned upon her pursuers to say, “You _think_ you have silenced the Herald of Freedom, because you have demolished the printing-press; but you are mistaken. That trumpet will sound across the prairies yet.”

“What a hell of a woman!” exclaimed one of the mob; and they laughed aloud in their drunken mirth, while the lurid flame of blazing homes lighted her across the prairies.

What cared New England that _her_ six stars were looking down upon the scene, in shameful “Union” with that blood-red flag?

* * * * *

The rapid removal of Alice, and the discomforts of her situation in the empty hut, brought on fever. In states of half wakefulness, she murmured continually, “I want my _mother_! I want to go home to my _mother_!”

“Yes, dear, you _shall_ go home,” said Katie, tenderly smoothing back her straggling hair. “Who _are_ you?” inquired the sufferer. “I am Katie. Don’t you know Katie?” The words seemed to waken no remembrance. She closed her eyes, and tears oozed slowly from them, as she murmured piteously, “I want to go home to my _mother_.”

In this state of half consciousness she lingered two or three days. It was a mild, bright morning, and the terraced hills looked beautiful in the golden light, when she woke from a deep slumber, with a natural expression in her eyes, and asked, “Where am I?” “You are in Kansas, dear,” replied Katie. A shadow passed quickly over the thin pale face, and she pressed her emaciated hand against her heart. Again the eyelids closed, and the tears oozed through, as she answered feebly, “Yes--I remember.”

All was still, still, in the wilderness. The human wolves were for the present glutted with their prey, and Lawrence lay silent in its ruins. Mr. Bradford was in prison, in danger of a traitor’s death. The inmates of the hut looked at each other mournfully, but no one spoke. Presently, the invalid made a restless movement, and Katie stooped over her, to moisten her parched lips. She opened her eyes, which now seemed illuminated with a preternatural, prophetic light; and, for the first time since her husband was murdered, she smiled. “Oh, Katie,” she said, “I have been with William, having such a happy time walking over the hills! From Mount Oread, he showed me the prairies all covered with farm-houses and fields of corn. Bells were ringing, and swarms of children pouring into the school houses. All round the horizon were church-spires, and beautiful houses, with windows glittering in the sunlight. When I told him it seemed just like dear New England, he smiled, and said, ‘This is Free Kansas!’ Then he pointed to a great University on the highest of the hills, and said, ‘Little Johnny is President, and the Blue Mound is called Free Mont.’”

“I hail the omen!” exclaimed Kate. The thin lips of Alice quivered tremulously. It was her last smile on earth.