Before Lawrence: August 12, 1861
Fourth chapter of Before Lawrence. On August 12th, life would forever be changed in Osceola, Missouri.
This is the fourth chapter of Before Lawrence. To learn more about the purpose of writing this story, check out the “Forward.” Before Lawrence is part of The Missouri Chronicles. Follow the story by subscribing on Substack, contribute your thoughts, and check out the added resources.
On Monday, August 12, 1861, a courier rode into the town, the horse glistening with sweat, its mouth dry, visibly stressed. The rider dismounted outside the courthouse near a watering trough. The horse immediately started to drink as the rider removed several documents from a saddlebag. Like the horse, the rider was dripping with sweat, his straw hat ringed with moisture. He smelled of leather, dust, tobacco and sweat. The look in his eyes betrayed a knowledge of things a young man should not ever encounter. He stared vacantly across the town square as the horse continued to drink. He patted the horses neck and gently led him to a shady spot and tied her to a hitching post. He then proceeded to the courthouse, document in hand. Immediately inside the door was the clerk’s office. He handed over the documents. The note was one page. The Union troops had been defeated by the Missouri Guard under the command of General Sterling Price. It was then that you heard whispered under his breath the clerk’s horror at the casualties: 2500 dead and wounded.
“Good Lord. That’s the entire town of Osceola wiped out in a day!”
The land commissioner, Samuel Hedges, was standing nearby. He asked, “Do you know when the casualty reports will arrive?”
“No sir, I do not. They immediately sent me out to provide the news as soon as the battle was over. They were still identifying the dead and wounded when I left.”
Before the young man could finish his sentence, Hedges ran out the door waving the note above his head, “The Missouri Guard has defeated the Yankees!” He repeated it as he ran about the town square. Crowds began to gather and before long the gazebo outside the courthouse was surrounded by hundreds of townspeople. The news was brief, but the event ever so profound. It was evident as hoots and hollers ascended that most of the town were happy with the outcome. The taverns were soon packed with celebrants and runners went down the streets announcing the news. By nightfall, the entire village was aware of the battle at Wilson Creek.
On August 10th, no one in Osceola would have countenanced a battle being fought of any kind in their part of the country. On August 10th, no one would have any notion that 2500 would either perish or be wounded. On August 11th, people attended church, pro-Union and pro-Confederate sitting side-by-side, some from the same families, while several days away to the south farmers just like them were scanning the fields for bodies. On August 12th, as Hedges ran about the town announcing the news, the mix of emotions ran from horror to elation, from fear to uncertainty to euphoria.
The Andersons, however, only observed and then discreetly retreated into their parlor, hoping and praying that none of their church members would appear expecting them to celebrate. But a knock came onto their door. It was Lucille Gentry. They knew she was dead set against the institution of slavery. They let her in.
“What are we to do, Rev. Anderson?”
She was clearly agitated.
“Riley and I are hiding out in our house. We dare not go into town.”
“I understand, Mrs. Gentry. I think it is best we let them celebrate. It is their hour.”
“I am stunned. Riley and I have lived here for ten years. We both knew where their sympathies lay. This does not surprise me. But I fear that things have changed. I am not certain it is safe to stay in Osceola.”
“Come now, Lucille. It is just one day. Things may settle down by tomorrow.” Paula placed her hand on Lucille’s shoulder.
“I don’t know, Paula. I feel our world is collapsing all about us. Hearing those people celebrating. Twenty-five hundred young men lay on the fields outside Springfield. That is nothing to celebrate. American fighting against American. That is nothing to celebrate. I think men are going insane.”
David looked on for a moment and sighed. “Well, said, Mrs. Gentry. Sometimes the best thing you can do in these situations is the only thing you can do – pray. Let’s do that right now.”
And so it was, in the tiny parlor of the Anderson’s parsonage, with the distant sound of people celebrating in the town square, three people prayed. They prayed for the peace that passes understanding, for the assurance of His presence, for wisdom to know how to respond, and for safety.
They weren’t alone. Two houses down another family prayed the same in their thoughts. They looked out the window and wondered what was happening to their country. In another home, a man and wife talked of leaving. The husband responded, “How? We have put our life’s fortune into the business here. We can’t just leave it.”
Cindy heard the news from Alice. Dr. Lewis had gone down to the town square. He joined the others in the backslapping, lighting cigars and passing around the whiskey. But Lewis was a smart man. He knew that some dark clouds were over the horizon. His demeanor had changed considerably by the time he entered the parlor of his home. Missy served him a cup of tea.
“Thank you, Missy. Lord knows I need a cup of tea after all the whiskey that’s going around down there.”
Missy smiled and returned to the kitchen. Through the door she could hear the conversation.
“Mary, we live in uncertain times. I can only hope that we all can settle down and go on living together. The crowd was lively, but it is clear to me that many folks just stayed home.”
Dr. Lewis repeated the news he heard to Mary. Missy listened intently, almost forgetting the bread that was baking in the oven. Later that evening, she told Alice and Alice relayed the news to Cindy shortly before sunset. For these three ladies, their wonderment was different from the hopes and fears of the white folks. All of them wondered if they would ever be free, and what being freed would entail.
On August 13th, it was clearer in the minds of the citizens of Osceola where their sympathies lay. For the minority, they had to silently harbor their disappointment and fear. Fear, because the Union troops had returned back to Rolla. Fear, because they realized they were utterly alone. Lawyers, shop owners, school teachers and news reporters all went about their business as usual, being careful to say little of the matter.
In the days to come the slaves that worked the surrounding farms would learn about the battle at Wilson Creek. Upon hearing the news, they did not say much. For them, their condition would only change when news and rumors would be replaced by the reality of armed Union troops marching into the town of Osceola and freeing them. You would think that nothing had changed for them and everyone else. Life went on.
© Copyright 2024 to Eric Niewoehner
Previous Chapter: August 10, 1861
Next Chapter: August 19, 1861
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