Freedom's Southern Line

By Karen Horst

After their elopement, Julia Hamilton and Peter Anderson head west to join the fight for freedom in Kansas. The troubles start as soon as they arrive. Lawrence is burned and sacked and John Brown exacts retribution for it. After the summer of 1856 when slave power is finally broken in Kansas, Peter starts a business and becomes a wealthy man. But tragedy follows and the worst is yet to come b

• Language: English
• Publisher: Karen Horst
• Release date: Mar 26, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458058720

Book preview

Freedom's Southern Line

Book Two of the

Purged with Blood Trilogy

By Karen Horst

Published by Karen Horst at Smashwords 2011

Copyright 2011 Karen Horst

Other books by Karen Horst

Give Me Your Name

and

The New Jerusalem

Smashwords edition license notes:

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The book immediately follows Give Me Your Name so it is important that you read that first. The title of this book is taken from the Song of the 56'ers. The words were written by John Greenleaf Whittier and it is sung to the tune of Auld Lang Syne. The 56'ers were the abolitionists who came to Kansas after the passage of the Kansas-Nebraska Act.

Song of the 56'ers

We cross the prairies as of old

our fathers crossed the sea

to make the west as they the east

the homestead of the free

We go to build a wall of men on

freedom's southern line

and plant beside the cotton tree

the rugged northern pine

upbearing like the ark of old

a Bible in our hands

We go to test the truth of God

against the fraud of man

Chapter 1

The Journey West

They fled west all through the night with only the bright moon to show them the way and the sounds of the night birds to accompany them. The road wove its way through the darkness into the hills and farms and streams of South Carolina while the horse's hooves beat out the rhythm of their escape with a methodical cadence. As morning began to encrimson the sky behind them, Julia leaned sleepily against Peter's shoulder and asked:

When shall we stop? The horse is tired and so am I.

Peter put his arm around her and caressed her.

A few miles more, he said. When we've put fifteen miles behind us, I'll feel fairly safe. That's about three more, the way I figure it. Then we'll get a room, stable the horse and hole up for a day and a night. Since they don't have any idea which way we went, I think we're pretty safe.

Do you suppose they've noticed I'm missing yet? she asked coyly, thinking to herself how much excitement that would cause.

No, Peter replied. It's far too early. You have at least another hour or two before they discover you're gone. It would be fun to be there when that happens, wouldn't it?

Only as a fly on the wall, Julia replied dryly. I have to get a letter off to my family sometime soon. I suppose the Chadwicks will send a telegram to them and then they'll be frantic.

I don't suppose the women in your family have ever done anything this crazy before.

Not that I know of, she answered, laughing. But it isn't crazy, is it? I feel good about this, Peter. I feel like a burden has been taken off of me, like something that's been wrong has finally been straightened out.

Together forever, he said, kissing her. Let's see what the next town has to offer in hotel accommodations.

It was a little more than an hour before they stopped. They found a tiny hamlet with a railroad connection that supported a modest hotel that was not even as large as the house in which Julia had grown up. Peter paid in advance for one night's lodging for them and the horse. The stable boy, a coffee colored mulatto, led the horse and buggy off to the back where the horse got a well-deserved rest and a meal. The man at the desk smiled as he watched Peter and Julia hurry up to their room. That was an elopement if he'd ever seen one. He doubted he would see them again until at least dinnertime and maybe not even then.

Well, he thought, if I'd just married a pretty woman like that, I'd be running up the stairs too.

Their room was the last one on the hall. Peter paused at the door, swung it open then picked up Julia and carried her in. He kicked the door shut behind them as he hurried to the bed and set her down on it.

Lock the door, she murmured. We don't want to be disturbed.

It took them three weeks to reach St. Louis. They moved from hotel to hotel, traveling fifteen miles on a good day and less on many days. They ran into rain in Kentucky and were forced to spend two days in a small hotel room. The first morning Peter got up, looked out the window and saw that it was raining heavily. He shut the curtains and came back to bed. Julia put her arms around him and they stayed in bed until noon. When the rain did not stop and the roads were sunken in mud so deep that no horse and buggy could be driven on them, they registered at the hotel for another day and spent the second day much as they had passed the first.

As they traveled west, Julia watched the accouterments of civilization fall away. Every mile they covered seemed to bring them into ever more natural country. The buildings, if there were any, became smaller and shabbier, while the land opened up. The animals grew more numerous as the population grew smaller. They began to see Indians and clusters of deer and buffalo. Not the great herds that were said to roam the western prairies, but more than Julia had ever seen before. Living in Boston as she had, she had never imagined a world without streets and buildings and the sort of forced order that man imposes on nature. As they went west, that diminished and nature, with all its terror, grandeur and majesty, rose up before her like the hand of God. She began to feel how very insignificant she really was and what Augusta had meant when she had said she wouldn't come west without a man.

Julia sat very close to Peter as he steered the little buggy onto the dirt road that creased the fields in the outskirts of St. Louis. Ahead of them she could barely see the outline of the courthouse that faced the levee where the big boats were docked. A church bell was tolling the hour of four. Its deep-throated, brass bell could be clearly heard three miles out. In the west, the sun was beginning to paint the sky with roses.

There it is, said Peter triumphantly, pointing to the infant city suckled by the powerful rivers. St. Louis! Now we'll sell this old horse and buggy and get on a riverboat. We'll be in Kansas City in a week, God willing.

St. Louis! Julia exclaimed. I'm so glad to finally see it. Is that the Mississippi I smell? It smells like water but not like the sea. Fresh water and a great deal of it.

That must be the river, then, Peter agreed. Let's go, horse! We're almost there.

He cracked the whip and the horse, weary from weeks of plodding, obliged with a burst of energy.

St. Louis was a rough, brash place, newly sprung from the union of the Mississippi and Missouri rivers. For the previous century it had been a bold trading post where the native people - the Sac, Foxes, Pawnee, Osage and Missourias - brought their furs to barter with the French and Spanish. The trading still went on but the city was acquiring a new personality. Before it had only as much European civilization as the Indians would tolerate. The natives could have overrun the little outpost at any time and sent it floating down the giant river to be washed away forever. But, with the Louisiana Purchase making the region part of the United States, St. Louis suddenly exuded a sort of permanence about it, as though it had been adopted by a large, brawling family and was no longer an orphan. It began to grow in a crazy way, the way a weed grows when it sprouts in the soil of a well-tended garden. Brick streets appeared and hotels and churches. They built a levee and every day the big, slow steamboats appeared, coming from North and South, and bringing the raw materials and the people to build a city. Everything was new in St. Louis, unlike Boston. Much of it was shabby and hastily constructed, as if someone had decided to do something without thinking through what it would be beforehand. But it was in a constant state of renewal and replacement, so it really didn't matter what was built. This was only the preliminary project; most of it would be done later.

They found a room in a boarding house run by a German lady whose husband was a blacksmith. This pleased Peter because he thought he might be able to put in a day's work while waiting for the boat to Kansas City. It turned out he was right. It was two days until the next boat left for Kansas City and Peter managed to work both of them while Julia washed clothes.

On the afternoon of the second day, Peter came back with a newspaper.

Look at this, he said, showing it to Julia. I guess that so-called Republican Party is really going to last. They've set their convention for Philadelphia in June. They're really going to have a candidate for president. Can't think who will take it, being bound up with the suppression of slavery as they are. Seems like a good way for a man to get killed.

Oh, listen to you! Julia scolded, taking the newspaper from him. You'd take that nomination, if they offered it to you. I think it's wonderful that we finally have a party that's facing up to the slavery issue.

I wish they'd come out and preach abolition, Peter replied. It's all well and good to back popular sovereignty but that really skirts the issue. We ought to just come out and say that slavery has to be abolished.

Well, yes, of course, said Julia. But it's progress just the same and I'm glad to have it. Who do you suppose they'll run?

Salmon Chase would take the nomination, I suppose, Peter answered, with a note of contempt. He's got the bug to be president. He doesn't care who nominates him. His only concern is that the country is not worthy of him.

Surely there's someone better than Salmon Chase. Who else do they have? she asked.

Peter waved a hand in the air above his head and Julia could see that he was trying to conjure up a face and a name.

The tall man, he mumbled.

The tall man? Julia asked, trying to think whom he meant.

The congressman from Illinois, the tall, ugly one, Peter said, waving his hand again. Lincoln, that's who I'm thinking of.

Lincoln, Julia mused. She had heard the name but knew nothing about him except that he had made some speeches hostile to slavery.

Well, I don't really think that we'll have to worry much about the Republican Party for the time being, said Peter confidently. It'll be a miracle if they just get on the ballot. They won't win. I don't know who will win, but I don't think much is going to happen in Washington for a while. This is where the big questions are being decided and we're the people deciding them. Washington will just have to follow along.

Julia had been folding clothes and laying them out on the bed in their room. She was washing and repacking everything before they boarded the riverboat the next morning. Listening to Peter, she paused for a moment and went to the window. From where she stood, she could hear the sounds of the city and could smell the rivers rolling through it.

We're the people, she repeated. And tomorrow we start the last leg of the journey. It's such a wild country here - so large and open. Nothing like Boston or even Charleston. This is all new and prime and so beautiful. I don't think I ever saw sunsets until I came west. Look at how the sun sets here. It's so enormous! As big as all the sky and half the earth and so very beautiful. Peter, we have to save it! There has to be a place on the earth where slavery and tyranny and despotism have never been. Someplace untouched.

Peter came over to the window and put his arms around her. He kissed her tenderly.

Oh, Julia, he said, you're so good. I must be mad to take you into this fight.

I wouldn't let you go without me, remember? she replied fondly. She kissed him again and whispered: I'm so happy with you.

The next morning when they went down to the levee to board the boat, there was a man waiting at the ticket office. He was well dressed in the sort of thrifty but respectable clothes that ministers and college professors wear and had an air of furtiveness and anxiety about him that seemed very out of character. When Peter gave his name to the agent at the ticket office, the man stepped forward and said:

Excuse me, but did you say you were Peter Anderson?

Peter acknowledged that he was.

May I speak to you privately, sir?

Julia waved them on. I'll walk about the levee a bit, she said graciously.

Only for a minute, ma'am, the man promised politely and Julia smiled as she walked away.

Julia strolled down the busy levee a few yards and watched the men loading the big boats that traversed the river daily. The levee was a maze of goods and merchandise, drays, wagons and omnibuses and the people who worked there. Even in Boston, she had never seen such a mixture of humanity. There were dark Negroes, Spanish speaking Mexicans, Europeans of all nationalities and silent, half-naked Indians of all the tribes of the Midwest. In the space of less than a block, she counted twenty different languages.

Finally, she found a spot off the main thoroughfare, took a short rest and watched the busy crowd throng past. It was a bright, clear morning in late April and spring was in full force in Missouri. The redbuds and the dogwoods had burst into bloom and the forested areas around the river were full of them. Julia had never seen redbuds growing in the wild. Here they wove through the dark, thick trees like so many gaily-dressed dancers. When the wind blew they dropped some of their tiny colorful blossoms so that the ground beneath them was always purple with flowers. The midwestern spring was, perhaps, the most delightful because it came on the heels of a desperate winter in a wild and natural land.

In just a few minutes, Peter walked up beside her and took her arm.

I've agreed to take charge of some supplies for our friends in Kansas, he told her softly so as not to be overheard. That man was an agent of the Emigrant Aid Company.

Really? she replied. What are we taking?

Bibles, Peter answered, smiling. Four crates of bibles from the Beecher Bible Society.

Bibles? said Julia. Four crates of bibles? Are there that many people in Kansas in need of bibles?

So I hear, said Peter. It's a wild, heathen place that's greatly in need of Christianity. I told him we'd be happy to do our part. I am to deliver them to Shalor Eldridge in Lawrence and they are not to be opened before that.

All right, she replied pleasantly. Are they already loaded?

Peter nodded.

Then let's get aboard and go with them, Julia suggested.

The trip to Kansas City from St. Louis was 250 miles of winding, exasperating river that, in its imperial majesty, chose a path that no human would take. It wound its way through the forests and hills of Missouri, sometimes rushing, sometimes crawling, sometimes quiet, sometimes roaring. Always capricious, the boats rode the river like a small man rides an unbroken horse. It tolerated their presence, but no more. Its brown waters routinely swallowed up those who did not pay it the respect it was due.

The steamboat was a miserable place, as Julia and Peter soon learned. The engine clanged and reverberated all the time and steam hissed from it incessantly. It was hot and noisy and confining. Conversation was impossible anywhere near the engine, so the passengers, when they wished to speak, would gather on the end of the boat farthest from it. Even this was not truly far enough and people became surly and ill-tempered. Only the riverbanks rolled on serene and placid, clothed in the shadowy greens of spring in the forest. The dark, virgin forests watched in silence as the noisy boats roamed past them.

The settlements clung to the river like pearls on a necklace while the Missouri River brought commerce to their watery doorsteps. Each little hamlet had its levee, its small hotel that was nearly always full, and a few other little buildings. Animals roamed loose everywhere and their sounds gave a noisy background to the rowdy traffic of the river.

On the third day the boat docked in Jefferson City, the capital of the state. The levee nestled at the foot of a hill that rose up sharply from the broad, flat riverbed. On the landing were two buildings: the sturdy, limestone Lohman House and, next to it, the newly constructed Union Hotel. Both of these sat with their backs to the hillside, facing the rippling river. Above them, the tiny city kept a foothold on the top of the hill. Pigs roamed the dirty streets while the legislature meet in temporary quarters and made plans for a real capital building.

The boat would dock here overnight, take on cargo, leave off passengers and then proceed on in a day. The passengers who were going on were recommended to the Union Hotel for the evening and Julia and Peter were very glad to go there. The boat was a tiresome place, full of noise and people. A night off of it seemed like a fine idea. Peter carried their bags as they walked up the levee to the hotel.

The first floor of the building was an open lobby with a brick floor. Across the front of the building were four double doors that all stood open on this warm April night. Tobacco smoke emanated from the doors as groups of men sat at tables and talked. The building was entirely brick, except for the limestone facing on the lowest part of the side facing the river. It was three stories with an attic, the first floor being the lobby that tucked into the hillside. The rooms were on the upper stories and they sat on top of the hill. The second floor had a door on the back that opened onto the hillside so, in effect, there were two ground floors. There were twenty rooms and each one had a handsome window that looked out either to the river or the hillside.

The men at the tables watched intently as Peter and Julia crossed the floor and approached the desk. It was her they were interested in. Women were scarce on the frontier and pretty women drew an inordinate amount of attention. It made her nervous the way the conversation lagged when she walked by. Peter could feel it too and it disturbed him.

How long you staying? the man at the desk inquired as he shoved the register at Peter.

Two nights, he answered. We'll be heading on to Kansas City the day after tomorrow.

Oh, Kansas City, we've had a lot of people going there recently. Buford's men.

What is that? Peter asked.

Buford's men? the clerk said. "Major Jefferson Buford of Eufaula, Alabama, has been recruiting men to come to Kansas and fight for the southern cause. They been through here just a few days ago - on the steamer Keystone. There must have been close to 400 of them. We couldn't put them in the hotel so they camped all over. Sure were glad to see that pack of rascals leave. They'll be trouble in Kansas City when you get there - that's for sure."

I suppose they're all armed, Peter asked wearily. Or do they intend to settle down, start a family and settle this with their votes.

The clerk laughed.

I don't think voting is what they had in mind, he replied merrily. They shot up the whole town the one night they were here. Drunk all night. They butchered every pig they could steal and roasted them right up on top of the hill there. There wasn't anything the sheriff could do. He couldn't arrest 400 men although there were charges he could have brought against every one of them. I never saw such a drunken, violent lot of men. Worthless, every one of them! We were glad to see them go.

And they're in Kansas City now? Julia asked.

Westport, I think they said, the man replied. They were going to Westport. Westport's a border ruffian town. But they'll be in Kansas City too, you can bet on that. And Lawrence and any place where you find abolitionists. We don't take much to abolitionists around here, but they look better than those Buford men.

Thank you, said Peter calmly. We'd like to go up to our room now.

The man handed them him the key and said: We only serve breakfast here but you can get dinner up the hill at the Capital City restaurant.

Peter and Julia picked up their bags and hurriedly left the lobby. Once the door to their room was securely closed behind them, Peter threw his suitcase aside and put his hand over his eyes and rubbed them.

Four hundred drunken men, he moaned. The whole population of Kansas City is only about a thousand. This is terrible!

I'm just glad we're not on the same boat with them, Julia replied. Can you imagine what a trip that would be?

I'm not looking forward to this, said Peter.

Julia went to the window and opened it. Their room was on the front of the building, the side facing the Missouri River. As she opened the window the sound and smell of the water rushed in on them.

Let's walk up the bluff and have dinner, she suggested soothingly. Maybe we can find out more.

That's what I'm afraid of, Peter replied. We'll go out, but you stay right beside me. This is a rough place, worse than I thought. Every man in that lobby looked at you twice.

Yes, I saw that, but don't worry about it. There are other women around. I saw some on the landing as we came in and there were some on the boat.

Those women on the landing were probably prostitutes, he told her.

He picked up his bag and pulled out a gun.

Oh, Peter, really! she scolded. We're just going to dinner.

Every man in that lobby had a gun on him, he answered, slipping the gun into his coat pocket.

I suppose you think I should start carrying a gun too.

Would you shoot it if someone threatened you?

She hesitated and, when she did, he said:

No, you wouldn't, would you?

I can shoot a gun, if I have to, she replied firmly.

Yes, I know you can, he said, laughing. I understand that you're the best shot in the country, but you're also the most unwilling. You'd never shoot anybody, no matter what he was doing! There's no point in you carrying a gun if you're not going to use it. Besides, if you pull a gun and then don't shoot, the man will take it away from you and you'll be handing guns over to the border ruffians. God knows they've got enough guns as it is.

I don't want to shoot anyone. And I don't want you shooting anyone either.

I don't want to shoot anyone, but I will defend myself and my wife. Julia, it's a war out here. We knew that when we came west. There's going to be fighting and people are going to get hurt. Some of them will be killed. Now I understand about you not wanting to use a gun. To tell you the truth, I don't want you to. But I have to, and that's all there is to it.

She shrugged because she could see that he was adamant. Besides, she knew he was right. There was no other way.

All right, she agreed. Maybe I'll give you some lessons when we get to Kansas City.

They walked up the steep hillside and out to the edge of the bluff overlooking the big, muddy river. Moving to the edge of the cliff, they watched the brown water swirling past them in a ceaseless rush to join the Mississippi. Then, looking across the river, they saw the dense forest dancing slightly in the gentle evening breezes. The dogwoods were in bloom and their white flowers showed brightly in the greening trees. It was April 1856 and spring had come to Missouri like a resurrection.

It's a pretty country, Julia said softly.

That it is, Peter agreed, putting his arms around her. The only thing in this world that's prettier is you.

The only topic of conversation in Jefferson City was Buford's men. Everywhere they went the name was bounced through the air like a shuttlecock in a perpetual game of badminton. It seemed that Buford had scoured clean the states of Alabama, Georgia and South Carolina in his search for an army. He had published an appeal that read:

"I wish to raise three hundred industrious, sober, discreet, reliable men, capable of bearing arms, not prone to use them wickedly or unnecessarily, but willing to protect their sections in every real emergency."

No one who had seen these men described them as industrious, sober, discreet or reliable, although they all agreed that they were capable of bearing arms. Every drunken, unemployed ruffian in the South had answered Buford's call to arms and it was the arms that attracted them. They wished to fight. They needed to fight and they cared not that the cause they fought for was the continued enslavement of their fellow man.

They were a ragged, desperate army; loaded with hate and whiskey, fighting against an enemy whose motives they could not comprehend. They had swarmed west like locusts and expected to devour the abolitionist movement in Kansas with a quick descent and a stinging victory. None of them truly believed that the pasty-faced puritans of New England would fight them for the freedom of worthless colored slaves. They believed themselves to be tough men and they knew that those churchified bible-thumpers were weaklings who would soon bow before them.

Julia and Peter had learned not to speak of abolition. Whenever anyone asked their reasons for going west, they would reply that they intended to join friends and start a family. The following day, they boarded the boat quietly and stayed in their stateroom throughout the rest of the tedious journey.

Chapter 2

May 3, 1856 Kansas City, Missouri

Kansas City was built on the rift between the two shifting, grinding tectonic plates of East and West, of freedom and slavery. It rose up out of the Missouri River valley at a place where the sinuous waterway, coming south and east from the plains of Nebraska and the stony lands of the Dakotas, took a sharp bend before continuing on to join the Mississippi on the other side of the state. Here the Kansas River met the Missouri and continued west, carrying with it the new towns of Kansas. Kansas City looked west into its turbulent neighbor, the bleeding state of Kansas, while its feet stayed planted in the rough, slave state of Missouri. It rocked and teetered and rode the waves of both worlds while the nourishing river daily brought it new fighters for both causes.

On May 3, 1856, Julia and Peter Anderson came round the bend on the deck of the steamer, Thomas Jefferson, and caught sight of it for the first time. The levee nestled up against the steep riverbank, exactly as in Jefferson City. On the levee stood a near duplicate of the Union Hotel: the American Hotel. It was a bit larger than the Union Hotel. There were four and half floors instead of three and on top of the roof there stood a tall round cupola in which hung a bell to be rung at mealtime. The yard in front was a swath of limestone that the river slapped continuously. It was brick and spacious but always crowded as it was the only accommodation in town for the many travelers that came down the river.

There were two streets in which all commerce was transacted. They were rutted and muddy and lined with simple wooden houses, none of them taller than two stories. The two streets were called Wyandotte and Delaware, the names of some of the Indian tribes that had been pushed into the area by displacement in the east. A thousand people lived in the area and more came daily.

That's it! Peter exclaimed as the steamer chugged slowly up the muddy river. The red brick building! Can you see it? It looks like the Union Hotel.

Julia strained to see what Peter was pointing at. Ahead of them she could see a wall of red brick pressed against the riverbank.

I see it! she cried. Oh, Peter, we're here at last! I'm so glad! It seems so long since we left Charleston.

Four weeks, he replied, putting his arms around her. We've seen practically the whole country but this is the place I've been longing for: Kansas City and the American Hotel.

I hope Augusta got my letter, said Julia. I hope it arrived before us so that she's ready for us. Oh, I'm so glad we’re here. I'm so ready to settle down and be in one spot for a while. Traveling has made me so very weary.

Me too, he agreed. I'll get the bags. You be ready to get off when they land.

I'm very ready to be off this boat, Julia told him firmly. He only smiled.

The docking place for the boats was the levee built right in front of the American Hotel. From there, the passengers made their way up the sharp hill to the lobby of the hotel. Many people stayed at the American at least one night before moving on. Others camped out on the riverbanks or found some lodging in town. But the American was the spot where everyone stopped first. It was an outpost of civilization in an otherwise natural and untamed country.

They walked into the broad, open brick lobby of the American and were about to approach the desk when a voice called out happily:

You're here at last!

It was James Eldridge who was standing at the registration desk. He ran from the desk joyously and reached for Peter's hand. Peter dropped their bags and began shaking his friend's hand.

Go and find Augusta! he called to a boy who had come out of the back to see what was happening. Tell her that they've arrived.

You obviously got our letter, said Peter happily. I thought as much when I was approached in St. Louis.

Did you bring the shipment? James asked eagerly. Have you got our bibles?

They're on the boat, Peter replied. The captain says they will be unloaded within the hour. We will need to take a wagon down to get them.

I'll arrange it, said James. We don't want them sitting on the dock for long.

Julia! Augusta cried, coming out of the office space behind the front desk. She came around the desk slowly and then ran to greet her friend.

Augusta! Julia exclaimed, rushing to embrace her. Oh, my, is it true? I'm so happy to see you!

Augusta kissed Julia on the cheek. Her face was wet with tears.

I'm so happy to see you both! We got your letter and we could hardly believe that you were really coming. Then the Thimble sisters wrote us and said that they had been at your wedding and we knew that it was really true! They want a letter when you arrive.

I will send it tomorrow, Julia promised.

Let's go in the back, Augusta suggested, taking Julia by the arm. We have a room all made up for you. We've been keeping one open for the last week, hoping you'd be here soon. Oh, we have so much to tell you. I suppose you've already heard how bad it is.

We've heard all about Major Buford and his army of southern knights, said Julia, letting Augusta lead her out of the lobby and into the private section of the hotel. James and Peter followed them while continuing to talk to each other with great animation.

We've been infested with them for weeks now! said Augusta. Mostly they're down in Westport, which is about four miles south of here. But more arrive everyday. I fear for our lives sometimes. Oh, Julia, I hope I haven't led you into an adventure that you may not survive. It's become so dangerous here.

Better to go out and face it than have it come and find you hiding, Julia replied. I, for one, am tired of waiting.

We operate on hope and faith here, said Augusta as she opened a door to a small, tidy parlor and ushered Julia in. Sit down and we'll have some tea. James and I will tell you all that's happened since our last letter.

She lead Julia to a comfortable lady’s chair and let her rest there while she seated herself on a small, horsehair settee. It was a pleasant room, New England in character. On one wall was a brick fireplace with a window on either side. The door to the room stood opposite the fireplace and, at the far end from the door, there was an upright piano. The windows were wide open and the lace curtains tied back so that a steady, cool breeze refreshed the air. There was a heavy, wool rug on the floor that Julia was sure she had once seen in Augusta's home in Deerfield. On the walls there hung portraits of family members left behind in Massachusetts. The chairs were all upholstered in red velvet and on their arms were pinned delicately crocheted doilies.

Augusta rang a bell and a young woman appeared at the door.

Could you bring us some tea please, Charlotte? she asked. Charlotte nodded and disappeared.

When they were all settled in comfortably, James began.

We're pretty close on getting the hotel open in Lawrence, maybe two or three weeks more work. Shalor, my brother, has spared no expense to make it great. It is the finest hotel between Chicago and San Francisco.

So, you've made some progress, Peter said admiringly.

Yes, we have, James agreed, but I don't know how long we can hold on to it. Buford's men are everywhere between here and Lawrence. Westport is full of them. My brother, Edwin, stopped there a few days ago and barely escaped with his life. Don't go near Westport if you can avoid it. It's a snake pit of border ruffians.

They said in Jefferson City that Buford had 400 men, said Peter.

At least, James replied. And that's in addition to the ones who were already here. We barely have enough men and guns to defend ourselves. That reminds me - our shipment.

He rang the bell and Charlotte reappeared promptly.

Send Bob down to the dock with the wagon, he instructed. "There are four crates on the steamer Thomas Jefferson that are to go to my brother in Lawrence. They're Bibles, Beecher Bibles. Tell him to take another man with him and go down there and get them as soon as they are unloaded. I don't want them sitting on the dock for as much as a minute, do you understand?"

She nodded silently then said: They're not to sit on the dock for a minute. Four crates of Bibles. I'll send him down there just now.

You place a great store on Bibles in this part of the country, Julia commented suspiciously.

Yes, we do, James agreed dryly. Especially Beecher Bibles. Well, to go on. We've got to draft a constitution before we can apply for statehood and the slavery forces have been meeting at Lecompton trying to do that. The one they have come up with is exactly the constitution of the state of Missouri. They copied it word for word and worked so quickly that sometimes they forgot to replace the word 'Missouri' with 'Kansas.'

Everyone in the room laughed at this bit of sloppiness. Charlotte came into the room with a tray of tea and shortbread cookies and set it on the table before them.

Augusta moved forward and began to pour the tea. She handed a cup to Julia and then picked up where her husband had left off.

The abolitionists are meeting at Topeka so we now have two legislatures and nobody can say which of these is the duly elected one. Our elections have been so fraught with fraud and violence that we can't actually say that we'd had one we can trust. I wrote you about the last one - 6,000 votes and 3,000 voters! Some of the people elected were not even Kansans!

Governor Reeder was in charge when that took place, James went on. He has since resigned and been replaced by Wilson Shannon. Governor Shannon is no friend of ours. Reeder was much more just to the abolitionists. He is still in Kansas. One would have thought that he would be eager to get back to his native Pennsylvania, but he has stayed to help us with our problems. He's not at all happy about the way things have been done here.

There is so much turbulence here that it breeds on itself, said Augusta. People who were indifferent to the slave questions when they came here are soon swayed to one side or the other. The border ruffians have convinced many a peaceable farmer to take up arms against them. Then there are the jayhawkers!

The jayhawkers? asked Julia. Who are they?

They're the abolitionist equivalent of the border ruffian. They ride over into Missouri and burn farms, steal horses, shoot people and loot their homes. I'm ashamed to say that these people call themselves adherents to our cause. They aggravate the situation and not for the better. It's no wonder that the state of Missouri hates us.

And Kansas City, how is it? Peter asked.

Well, this is Missouri, James replied. We can see Kansas fro here, but we're not in it. It's not particularly safe here but we maintain the hotel so that we can keep a presence on the water traffic. If they cut us off at the river, we will be strangled. It's hard, but we intend to hold onto this little foothold in the state of Missouri.

So is that your plan? asked Peter. Hold a space in Kansas City and keep the road open to Lawrence?

Yes, James replied. Shalor and his family are in Lawrence most of the time while Augusta and I are here. We spent the winter in Lawrence, and now we have settled in here for the time being. My brothers, Thomas and Edwin, spend time both here and there. Settlers continue to come to the territory and most of them come from the northern states and are friendly to our cause. Many of them are converted on the way here by the antics of the border ruffians. They hound and harass anyone they suspect of being abolitionist. It discourages some and persuades others to join us.

What shall we do? asked Julia. Where do you need help?

Everywhere, James replied. We need help running this hotel. We need help in Lawrence getting the Free State Hotel open. We'll see what is best for you. Right now, though, you should rest a day or two. You've been on the road how long? Four weeks?

Yes, about that, Julia replied.

We have a room for you on the second floor, just below ours, said Augusta. We'll move you in there and let you get settled in. In a day or so, James will take you up to Lawrence so you can see what goes on there. Oh, there is so much to do! But rest now. You will need your strength.

Peter, said James standing up, let's go down to the dock and see about those bibles. I want to get them put in a safe place overnight. We'll leave the ladies alone a minute.

Sure, said Peter. Give me a little tour of the place, please.

James and Peter left the hotel by the front door and walked down to the levee. Bob, the hired man, was just tying down the last of the crates on the back of a flat bed wagon.

Where would you like me to take these, Mr. Eldridge? he asked.

Let's leave them on the wagon tonight so we can start out early tomorrow with them, James replied. Take it up the hill to the stable and post a guard for us. But quietly, please. We don't want to attract any attention.

I sleep on top of them tonight, Bob answered resolutely. Then off to Lawrence in the morning? Is that the destination?

Yes, they are to go to my brother at the Free State Hotel and are to be opened there.

I would like a man to go with me, said Bob.

Let me do it! Peter offered eagerly. I can't wait to see Lawrence. I'll ride shotgun.

Well, said James tentatively. If you want to get into it that fast.

I traveled a month to get here, Peter replied. Let me go with him and you stay here with the ladies. I'm a good shot, maybe not as good as Julia, but I can shoot.

You may need to, you know.

It's all right. You've been bearing the load for two years now. Let me do my part.

All right, then. James agreed. We need some fresh blood around here - if you'll pardon the expression. You can go.

Peter shook his hand happily.

We'll leave at sunrise tomorrow, Bob told him. Pack a bag because we won't be back for a couple of days.

Perhaps you should stay in Lawrence for a few days and let Shalor show you around out there, James suggested as Bob started up the team and drove away. If you can part with Julia for that long.

Part with Julia, Peter repeated. Well, I'm not a fool so I don't want to be gone long. But I would like to go up to Lawrence and help Shalor and I would rather that Julia stayed here just now. I suppose that she and Augusta could amuse themselves for awhile without getting into much trouble.

Augusta's been trying to manage the kitchen at the American, said James. It's wearing her slick. She's had trouble keeping cooks and kitchen help. She barely gets one trained and they run off. She's ended up doing much of the cooking herself and it's been too much for her. She's been sick recently and I've had to put my foot down and tell her that she absolutely can't work in that kitchen. But, still, there are so many people to be fed all the time. Do you know we ring the bell at mealtime because people all over town eat there? If Julia could take over for a few days and let Augusta get off her feet, it would do her a world of good.

Peter nodded. I'll talk to Julia about it. I'm sure she'd be willing to do that if Augusta will give her instructions.

I'm sure she can. God, I'm so thankful you're here. We need you both so much. Let's walk down along the river a bit. I've so much to tell you.

It was a beautiful, warm afternoon, a perfect pristine day, a payment for a harsh, Midwestern winter. They walked along the brushy hillside that sloped gently down to the broad waters of the big muddy river and watched the sun make the river sparkle. There was activity all around them as men in boats skidded across the top of the lapping river. At a little promontory that protruded in the stream so gently that the water caressed it rhythmically, James bent down and drew up a handful of the Missouri River.

Here it is, he told Peter as he let the water flow out of his hand. This land we are standing on is the westernmost piece of slave territory and this river is the water of baptism that washes away the sin. It is the Nile, the Jordan and the Ganges. It is the line between freedom and slavery and it is the place where the gangrene that is killing our nation will be stopped. Look to the west and you will see the sun shining on the free state of Kansas.

Yes, said Peter, cupping his hand over his eyes and looking to the