Sycamore Promises

by Paul Colt

  Sycamore

  April, 1856

  The buckboard rocked along the dirt road through bright sunshine, returning from Sunday services in Lawrence. Redbud splashed purple mist on budding early spring green. Clare sat beside Micah in the box, holding little Elizabeth. Caleb and Miriam sat in the bed, Miriam holding the gentle swell of her belly. Micah turned up the lane to the farm. The bones of a spacious frame house stretched out to greet the midday sky.

  “Look there,” Clare said.

  Micah drew rein. He followed her gaze to the old sycamore. A blue carpet spread spring flowers beneath its branches, spilling down the ridge toward the river.

  “Isn’t it beautiful?”

  “It’s bluebonnet,” Miriam said.

  “We might gather a bouquet for the table.”

  Micah clucked to Sampson, continuing up the lane.

  “We gonna work on the house some today?” Caleb asked.

  “Sunday’s a day of rest,” Micah said over his shoulder. “Tell you what. Let’s take the musket out past the fields and let you have some target practice.”

  Caleb grinned.

  Clare and Miriam fixed lunch while Micah and Caleb unhitched the team and turned them out to graze. After lunch Micah shouldered the musket, powder horn, and bullet pouch. He and Caleb set off down the cart path between fields one and two, where the summer wheat crop sprouted green. This year they had six fields planted. With good weather, they should take in a bountiful harvest. As they walked, Caleb cast a far gaze across the fields to the horizon.

  “What be comin’ of it, Micah?”

  “Coming of what?”

  “Slavery in Kansas. Me and Miriam hear folks talk at church. They say that slavery governor and them legis-lawyers of his is fixin’ to pass a slavery law.”

  “The Lecompton legislature election was illegal. That’s why we had a new election. Our legislature will adopt a constitution that prohibits slavery. Governor Robinson will see to that.”

  “So, between two governors and two legis-lawyers, who decide who be right?”

  “Right decides who’s right.”

  “I sees trouble comin’.”

  Micah eyed his friend. “I hope you’re wrong, but you could be right.” They walked on together.

  “Maybe we should move on. There’s free land further west.”

  “Free soil or free land?”

  “Both.”

  “Kansas will be free, Caleb, and so will you.”

  “You cain’t know that.”

  “I do know, ’cause free is right. Look, Clare and I have been talkin’. We couldn’t have worked this place alone. We were plain lucky you and Miriam came along the way you did. We work good together. We want you to stay. What would you say if we sold you fields five and six? We could build you your own place. You’d have your own crop. We’d still pay you shares for workin’ ours.”

  “You’d do that?”

  “We would.”

  “We don’t have the money to buy that land.”

  “You got a dollar?”

  “You’d sell them acres for a dollar?”

  Micah nodded. “And we’d work the fields same as we do now.”

  Caleb walked on in thought. “I’d pay you shares on my crop.”

  “Seems fair.”

  They paused at the end of the field.

  “A man’s land be worth takin’ a stand for. You sure about this, Micah?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Could be trouble.”

  “Could be. I hope not; but if there is, we’ll be ready.”

  “Best then you get on with teachin’ me how to shoot.”

  Promises. Men walked her fields between rows of her offspring, side by side at leisure as they did at work. The bones of a more permanent home arose along her creek bank. They planted. They built. They brought new life. An island of tranquility amid powerful forces, some seen, others as yet unseen. She could feel them. Seasons to come would test these promises and her guardianship of the land and those who dwelt there.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  * * *

  Constitution Hall

  Lecompton, Kansas

  May 1856

  The gavel banged adjournment. Governor Shannon smiled, self-satisfied as the legislators filed for the door in the fading light of late afternoon. Officially they’d adopted a pro-slavery constitution. His next measures would be taken up by the courts. He’d selected a few legislators to impanel a grand jury. They would meet in the morning to take up certain matters with respect to sedition offenses in Lawrence. He’d personally overseen the attorney general’s work in drawing up the charges. The jury should make short work of the necessary indictments. Serving those indictments should sever the head of the serpent.

  Morning sun slanted through tall courthouse windows, bathing the somber, dark-suited men seated at a long, polished table in an otherworldly glow. It had taken less than an hour to present the charges and no more than that for the jury to return the foregone conclusion.

  “Has the jury reached a verdict?”

  A tall man at the far end of the table rose. “We have, Your Honor.”

  “Then I shall ask the bailiff to read it.”

  A short, stocky figure stepped out of the shadows and approached the table. The tall man handed him a single sheet. He adjusted his spectacles.

  “We, the jury, find sufficient grievance in the matters of evidence presented to charge Charles Robinson with the crime of treason. We similarly find sufficient grievance to charge James H. Lane with the crime of treason. In the matter of the Kansas Free State Herald and its editor, we find sufficient grievance for a charge of sedition. Lastly, we, the jury, recommend that Eldridge House be condemned as a public nuisance and obstruction to maintaining civil order.”

  “The court hereby orders the issue of bench warrants accordingly.”

  Governor Shannon rose. “Thank you, gentlemen. The court’s orders will be served by US Marshal Israel Donelson as soon as the warrants are issued.”

  The judge’s gavel banged. “Court stands adjourned.”

  Franklin, Missouri

  Atchison stood in the double library doors open to the gardens. A soft evening breeze ruffled the curtains framing the door and the tail of his coat. He drew on his evening cigar, savoring wisps of blue smoke. Once set in motion, they had little choice but to see it through. There was nothing to be done for it. The inner door clicked open behind him.

  “Sheriff Jones, Senator.”

  “Thank you, Joachim.” The white-jacketed black man bobbed his whitened head and backed out the library door, ushering in Sheriff Samuel Jones.

  “You sent for me, Senator?”

  “I did, Sam. Thank you for coming. Have a seat.” Atchison indicated a wing chair across from his desk.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “Governor Shannon needs our help. The Kansas grand jury has indicted Charles Robinson for treason. They’ve condemned Eldridge House and the Kansas free-state newspaper as public nuisances. The governor has asked us to raise a posse to support the US marshal in serving the orders on Lawrence.”

  “You mean finish the job we started last December.”

  “Yes . . . well, hopefully with a more favorable result. This time we need to be a little less bellicose in our preparations so as not to alert the free-soil faction to our intentions. Do you understand?”

  “Keep it quiet and surprise them.”

  “That’s it. If you’re agreed, I’ll tell the governor to have his marshal contact you directly. The two of you can plan the enterprise.”

  “My office is at your disposal, Senator.”

  “Good. Keep me informed, Sam. I’d like to ride along, just to make sure that nest of vipers is stomped out once and for all this time.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  Washington City

  Capitol Hill

  May 19, 1856

  Wood polish and damp wool scented the air. The Senate a
ssembly waited in anticipation.

  “The Chair recognizes our gentle friend from Massachusetts.”

  Senator Sumner rose from his desk and strode purposefully across the floor to mount the rostrum at the head of the chamber. He turned to the assembly, jaw hardened, resolute.

  “Distinguished colleagues and gentle friends, I come before you today to expose the greatest swindle ever perpetrated on the people of this nation. We in this assembly, myself regrettably included, have been duped to enact into law a swindle. A swindle, swaddled in the sheepskin known as ‘popular sovereignty,’ was thus enacted to enable territorial expansion into Kansas and Nebraska. Today with the masquerade stripped away, we bear sad witness to the subjection of Kansas to the practice of slavery previously prohibited by the Missouri Compromise.” The chamber divided—grumbles of agreement from the north, stone silence to the south.

  “Proponents of this swindle have sought to deny sovereignty to the citizens of Kansas, asserting slave-holder rights by force and fraudulent ballot. Having committed fraud, perpetrators of this evil now seek to institutionalize and shelter the holding of slaves under the pretense of a territorial constitution. This crime against Kansas is a monster which could not be birthed by free and fair exercise of the citizen franchise. Injustice will now impose by force the sinful stain of slavery on free soil.

  “Forces of evil opportunism have seized on the Kansas-Nebraska swindle to drive out the voices of freedom, deny settlement to those who oppose slavery, and usurp the sovereign power of the territory to legislate its future. Thankfully, the first two have failed. Righteous voices of those opposed to evil have been heard. Sadly, the latter battle for the future remains in doubt. Violent men bent on disenfranchising good citizens enabled malicious interlopers to steal their verdict at the ballot box.

  “Having thus fraudulently obtained the levers of government, they have served to enact evil measures once again disguised in the cloak of law. In Kansas, they now represent that anyone who speaks or writes against the right to hold slaves shall be deemed a felon subject to imprisonment at hard labor. These villains would treat as criminals those who uphold the law of nature by exercise of free speech under our constitutional protections. By yet a second act, they assert that an applicant for the right to practice law in the territory must acknowledge, uphold, and defend in addition to the constitution, the Territorial Act establishing slavery in the territory and provisions of the Fugitive Slave Act. Thereby, they countenance the admission of no legal opposition at the bar. Further, by yet a third tyrannical decree, they seek to disqualify from jury any man who does not acknowledge the right to hold slaves. In governance, they go on to appoint magistrates and court officers to uphold the laws of the territory. Thus they impose the tyranny of their usurped authority on good citizens who have no say in local matters.

  “Thus stands the Kansas-Nebraska crime complete. A crime perpetrated in the name of popular sovereignty. This is not legitimate sovereignty, let alone popular. This is not government by the people. This is piracy in halls protected by an overarching constitution. It cannot stand. And yet it does stand, in insult to righteous providence. The result is civil unrest of the sort we witness in Kansas.

  “We now know who among us condones such deceit. We know the charlatan from Illinois and his slave-holding puppet master from Virginia. We here must resolve to repeal this travesty and set the territorial direction on a righteous path to emancipation and freedom!”

  The southern delegation rose in outrage, shaking fists and decrying the very suggestion. They stomped out of the chamber in symbolic defiance. The northern delegation rose to drown them out with support.

  Lecompton, Kansas

  US Marshal Israel Donelson stood on the steps of Constitution Hall. A ragged column of Missouri posse men clogged the road, raising dun dust to a bright spring morning. There must be seven or eight hundred in all, he thought. None too savory, either, this lot of border ruffians. They look more like a mob than a posse. This is the support we need to serve an arrest warrant and condemn a couple of public nuisances? It looks like we’re going to war with caisson and cannon in tow. Sheriff Jones and a handsomely mounted gentleman detached from the column and rode up to the courthouse steps.

  “Marshal Donelson, may I present Senator Atchison? Senator, Marshal Israel Donelson.”

  “Marshal, my pleasure.”

  “Senator, I see you’ve come in force.”

  “We’ll make no mistake this time, Marshal. Nor shall we be driven off by a snow storm.”

  “I should think not.” A former Missouri senator with an armed militia called out to serve civil warrants in a neighboring territory. Such is the nature of the slavery dispute.

  “We stand ready to march on your order, Marshal,” Jones said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  * * *

  Lawrence

  May 21, 1856

  Two horsemen galloped down the road from the northwest. Donelson signaled a halt as his advance scouts returning from Lawrence drew rein.

  “What is the situation?”

  “No sign of organized resistance, Marshal. The fortifications the sheriff here warned us about have fallen into disrepair over the winter and do not appear to be manned at this time.”

  Donelson nodded. “Good.”

  They rode on until Lawrence came into view along the west bank of the Kansas River. Donelson again called a halt.

  “How do you plan to play this, Marshal?” Jones asked.

  “Since they do not appear prepared to mount a resistance, we shall keep this peaceable as far as possible.”

  Jones glanced at Atchison. He sat his horse impassive.

  “I shall take my men into town to serve the arrest warrants. Sheriff, take your men south of town and center your position on Eldridge House. Do not advance on the town. I will summon you when I have secured my prisoners. You may then serve your orders. I urge you to use restraint, however, as we should endeavor to accomplish this without bloodshed.”

  “We’ve experience with the likes of Lane, Montgomery, and Jennison. They’re not likely to take our orders lying down.”

  “You heard the scouting report, Sheriff. There is no sign of resistance. We are not spoiling to provoke a fight here. Now, please, proceed to your position and hold for further instructions.”

  Jones looked to Atchison. Atchison wheeled his horse west toward Eldridge House on a line south of town.

  Donelson led his party of eighteen deputies into town, turning north along Massachusetts. Here and there someone on the street paused to stare at the heavily armed posse, unsure what it might mean. The posse crossed Main Street to Eldridge House and drew rein. Donelson was about to dismount when the desk clerk appeared at the hotel door. He wrung his hands nervously.

  “May I be of service?”

  “I’m US Marshal Israel Donelson out of Lecompton. I have warrants for the arrest of Charles Robinson and James Lane.”

  At that, a sober, bearded figure with a balding pate stepped out of the hotel onto the boardwalk.

  “I’m Charles Robinson. A warrant on what account?”

  “The charge is treason, Mr. Robinson. I’m afraid I must ask you to come with us.”

  “And who, pray tell, has issued this charge?”

  “The Kansas territorial grand jury.”

  “You mean a jury called by the fraudulent body asserting itself to be the territorial government in Kansas.”

  “Duly constituted and appointed by the territorial governor. Take him into custody.” Two men dismounted and secured the prisoner. With the prisoner in custody, Donelson summoned Sheriff Jones.

  “Now, Mr. Robinson, where might I find Mr. Lane?”

  “He has a house just north of here, though, to my knowledge, he is away at this time.”

  “Would you be kind enough to show it to us on our way out of town?”

  Robinson nodded as Jones and twenty of his men drew rein.

  “Sheriff, you may proceed.”
Donelson mounted his horse, prepared to leave with his prisoner.

  “Marshal, if you please,” Robinson said confidentially at Donelson’s side.

  “Sir?”

  Robinson directed his gaze up and down the street, where a crowd had begun to gather. “If you might spare a moment, I may be of service here.”

  The marshal nodded.

  Jones stepped down and climbed the Eldridge House boardwalk. “By order of the district court, these premises are hereby declared a public nuisance, condemned, and shall be demolished in the interest of public safety. You are further ordered to surrender all weapons and munitions stored upon the premises.”

  The crowd closed in on the posse, grumbling among themselves.

  “Turn over our guns? Hell, no!” someone shouted.

  Robinson raised his arms. “Gentlemen, gentlemen, please! Let us make no more trouble here than these border ruffians. The law is on our side, and we shall be vindicated.” He turned to the desk clerk. “Show these men to the storeroom, William.”

  The clerk disappeared, followed by a half dozen of Jones’s men. Within the half hour they’d extracted a howitzer and six cases of small arms crated as farm implements.

  “Procure a wagon to haul the contraband,” Jones said. “Remove all the furniture from the building!”

  Donelson caught Robinson’s eye. “May we?”

  He shook his head in resignation at what was to come and nodded.

  “Now, if you would, please direct us to Mr. Lane’s residence.”

  When Lane’s house indeed proved empty, the marshal led his deputies and prisoner northwest out of town.