Before Lawrence: September 25
Chapter seventeen of Before Lawrence, the second day where the people of Osceola have little food, no shelter and no hope.
This is the seventeenth 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.
James Lane had a decision to make once he arrived at the Papinsville crossing. His military mission was significantly compromised by the train of loot. He had to spread out 1500 men over a mile long assemblage of wagons, freed slaves on foot and hundreds of cattle, horses and mules. The first night outside of Roscoe was unnerving. Fortunately, the freed slaves were able to organize the wagons and commence food preparation, leaving his men to guard the perimeter of the camp. But their progress down the primitive road had been slow.
He told Colonel Montgomery, “We are going to divide up. I am sending the wagon train to the southwest to Nevada. I will leave them with enough men to protect them until they reach Fort Scott. The rest of us will cross the river tomorrow and head up to Clinton.”
“Do we have anyone who knows the roads in these parts?”
“Yes. Obediah Smith.”
And so it was that on this day the wagon train slowly worked its way towards the Papinsville crossing. Along the way, Obediah Smith pointed out a preferred road to follow for the wagon train. The Kansas Brigade was divided, with about one hundred men to protect the wagon train, the rest proceeding towards Papinsville.
And not too far behind were thirteen men bent on revenge.
Meanwhile, in the village of Osceola, the situation was dire. Folks like Laurel Thompson were doing all they could. Farmers joined together to take in friends and relatives, so the number of refugees began to slowly diminish. She rode up in her wagon and found the Andersons.
“Reverend. Get your family into the wagon. We are going to do what we can to care for you all.”
David and Paula were speechless. Paula whispered to Laurel as she was lifted into the wagon, “Thank you.”
And so it was that the Andersons were introduced to a working farm with a half dozen slaves. The Thompson house was not especially large, but there was a spare room where the Anderson family could reside.
Laurel was immediately attending to Paula. “Paula, I want you to rest. We are preparing a bath for you and the family in the kitchen. Ginny will attend to your every need.”
Samuel Thompson came into the farmhouse and saw David in the parlor.
“Samuel! Thank you so much for helping us.”
“Part of the Lord’s work, David. Glad to do what we can.”
Anderson, in his thinking, could not help but see the paradox. A man, who owned slaves, easily referring to the “Lord’s work.” But he kept his thoughts, and his doubts, to himself.
David asked, “Is there anything I can do to help you all?”
“Nothing at all, Reverend. You need to rest today. Tomorrow? We can see what we can do then.”
It was harvest. It was a cool day, but it was obvious that Samuel Thompson had worked up a sweat, working in the fields, driving the horses and attending to all that was required to manage a farm and two men who were forever tied to him as property. He refreshed himself with a small lunch and a mix of water and whiskey, then went to the door to return to the fields.
Anderson stood beside him, with his shirt sleeves rolled up. “I’m coming with you. I grew up on a farm. I can’t sit inside on a day like this.”
David found working alongside Samuel balm for his troubled soul. The paradox of this war was that amidst immeasurable tragedy, people still had to go on with life. Despite his own belief that owning another person was wrong, he had to recognize the novelty of working side by side with two slaves. They had names: Will and Daws. They had a sense of humor. They were surprisingly content with their situation. Samuel told him: “Will has been with me for twelve years. Bought Daws seven years ago from another farmer who was selling out.”
David did not know Samuel well enough to ask him whether he felt it was right to own another person. He felt a time would come to address this deep matter later. But he once again observed how easily Samuel worked with Will and Daws and it mystified him further. Yet he knew that being owned was not something any person would desire. He recalled how many of the slaves were jubilant when the Jayhawks invited them to load the wagons with loot and ride off with them. And he wondered about Will and Daws. If given a chance, would they do the same, regardless of the risk?
Back in Osceola, not everyone would receive such generosity as Laurel and Samuel Thompson provided. Several hundred of the people in the town had relatives living on surrounding farms, but not every farm had the capacity to house them or feed them for long. Many had family or relatives living in Warsaw or Clinton, but they had no way to reach them. Then there were those who had no where to turn. There was a barge still tied up down at the wharf, which stirred up some thinking. But as one person pointed out, “We can load up several people onto that barge and float down to Jeff City or St. Louis. But what are we goin’ to do for food?”
And food was a problem. People were getting quite hungry. It was late in the day when the first wagons began to appear. Folks in Warsaw and Clinton had contributed food once word was received about the disaster in Osceola. It was enough to feed the survivors for one more day. It was becoming increasingly clear that sustaining a presence in a place as remote as Osceola would be exceedingly difficult.
So what were people to do? No home. No income. No money. And no food.
© Copyright 2024 to Eric Niewoehner
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