CRITICAL RACE THEORY: The Civil War PART SIX

Excerpts From A Novel By Eugene Stovall

Oakland, California August, 2022

Episode Twelve

Reverend Cordley picks his way through the clutter of rubble strewed all over Lawrence’s town square. The amiable soft-spoken pastor of Lawrence’s Presbyterian church makes his way to the mayor’s office, pondering what he can tell Stoddard Hoyt what he doesn’t already know. The Kansas Democratic Party was not satisfied with demolishing Lawrence, it has directed vigilantes from all over the South to blockade the town and prevent any supplies from getting through denying even a grain of cereal or a drop of milk from getting through. The starving townsfolks must sift through burned-out buildings and trampled gardens in search of anything to eat. Reverend Cordley’s congregation insists that their pastor appeal to Mayor Hoyt to find food for their starving children. I cannot not return empty handed, Reverend Cordley tells himself, but what can Mayor Hoyt tell me that I don’t already know? And what Reverend Cordley already knows is that nothing has gotten through the Democratic Party’s blockade even though Mayor Hoyt is doing everything possible.

“My good friend,” Stoddard Hoyt greets his visitor who eases past hungry children and their parents to enter the mayor’s office, “please have a seat.” Once his visitor is settled, the mayor asks. “How can I help you, Reverend?”

“Mr. Mayor,” the minister replies without preliminaries, “my elders want to know if you have any news.”

“We have received word from Topeka that help is on the way,” the mayor says.

“But we need food now!” Reverend Cordley replies, “Children are dying!”

“Yes, I know,” Mayor Hoyt shakes his head sadly. “Twice we have sent out wagons. Twice! But the blockade has stopped them.” Doesn’t he see the children camped outside my office? Stoddard Hoyt asks himself. I know people are dying. What does he expect of me? This is not mythology, this is reality. I can’t perform miracles! But the mayor says none of this to his visitor. Instead he repeats what the pastor already knows, “Ellen and her boys organized another, larger wagon train. They’ve gone to the Osawatomie settlements for supplies. They’re our best hope.”

“But my people want to know when.” Reverend Cordley repeats.

“Soon,” the mayor says trying to conceal his exasperation. “Supplies have left Topeka. I’ve sent Jim Lane’s militia to escort them through the blockade. Tom Boone and others are also seeking supplies from other settlements. Tell your people to have patience and pray!”  But staring out of the window, as the words leave his lips, the mayor notices a dust cloud rising in the west. Panic seizes him.

“Oh, my God,” the Quaker gasps, “here they come again!”

Reverend Cordley, turns to stare out the window and also sees a cloud of dusta rising in the west. But instead of reflecting fear of the vigilantes return, his face breaks into a broad grin. The dust cloud does not resolve itself not into a swarm of galloping horses and screaming vigilantes, but it becomes a train of lumbering oxen pulling covered wagons. The townsfolk outside the mayor’s office also spy the incoming wagon train and raise a weak cry of joy.

The mayor and minister leave the office to join a crowd of citizens gathering to welcome the incoming wagons. Ellen Collins, Frank Yerby and Shields Green drive the first three wagons. Others driven by newly arrived free state homesteaders follow. Jim Lane’s militia, which joined the wagon train barely a mile outside of Lawrence, escorts wagons driven by Tom Boone.

“Welcome, back!” Mayor Hoyt, beams up at Ellen. He must shout over the din of laughter and excitement. Crowding the wagons, people immediately begin distributing food and taking supplies to the several temporary shelters hastily-constructed after Quantrill’s raid. The churches, all of which were left untouched, send their parishioners to collect a share of food and supplies.

The next day, Mayor Hoyt holds a meeting of the town council and repudiation committee in Ellen’s school house. He welcomes all the newcomers and thanks them for their assistance. “Bless you all for your support,” the mayor says.

“Even though free staters by the hundreds are pouring into Kansas from all over North, the bushwhackers are keeping up their blockade,” Ellen reminds the council. “It’s still going to be difficult to bring in any more supplies.” 

“What is the army doing?” a councilman asks.

“Jefferson Davis has forbidden the war department from intervening in this conflict,” Mayor Hoyt responds.

“John Brown fighting off the blockade,” Yerby comments. “Many have been killed in skirmishes with the bushwhackers.”

 “Not only is John Brown and other free staters fighting back,” Tom Boone adds, “they are attacking vigilantes wherever they find them ___ and they are winning.” A shout goes up from the homesteaders. “But John Brown needs more weapons, ammunition ___ and fighters.”

“Well if John Brown is beating them, why aren’t more supplies getting into Lawrence?” one councilman asks.

Jim Lane, in a rare appearance at a town meeting, offers an explanation. “The vigilantes occupy fortified blockhouses, Fort Franklin, Fort Saunders and Fort Titus. Vigilantes from these blockhouses patrol the roads and attack anyone heading for Lawrence.”

“How did this supply train reach us, then?”

“It came from Topeka over the Santa Fe trail,” Ellen responds, glaring at Jim Lane. “Vigilantes can’t patrol the Santa Fe trail because General Hitchcock has soldiers and free staters occupying the Santa Fe Roadhouse.”

“Possibly we should evacuate Lawrence and move to Topeka, then,” Mayor Hoyt suggests.

“That’s a good idea,” one of the council members agrees. Others also support the idea. But some, including Councilman Burt Falks, object. Falks invested a considerable sum of borrowed money in a dry goods business and lost everything he had in Quantrill’s raid. The bushwhackers burned down his store and his two storage sheds. He cannot begin again in Topeka. If Falks leaves Lawrence, he must return to New York, penniless and owing a mountain of debt to people he would rather not owe. Staying in Lawrence is Councilman Falks’ only option. “After all we have suffered and all the lives that have been lost,” Falks protests, “how can we even consider giving up?”

“The only reason that they have not attacked Topeka, yet” Yerby reasonss, “is because Lawrence remains Kansas’ citadel of freedom. If they drive us out of Lawrence, they will attack Topeka. And once they have destroyed both Lawrence and Topeka, there will be no place in Kansas where free state homesteaders can assemble.”

“But we are not safe here,” says one councilman favoring the evacuation of Lawrence.

“It is true that we are not safe here,” Ellen agrees. “But as long as Lawrence remains steadfast, Topeka will continue to grow and thrive. Soon it will be too strong to attack, If Kansas is to enter the union as a free state, we must remain in Lawrence.”

“These are noble sentiments,” Jim Lane observes. His voice drips with sarcasm. “But as long as those bushwhackers are safe behind their forts, they can enforce their blockade and, sooner or later, they will starve you out.”

“Then what can what do you suggest that we do?” Mayor Hoyt asks.

Before he responds, Lane turns to give Ellen a smirk. Lane knows that Ellen is a fugitive slave. As an agent for the attorney general, Lane knows everything about Ellen, her twin brother, Joe, as well as Wes Parks. Like all northern copperheads, Jim Lane hates Negroes as much as any southerner, possibly more. As smart as Louise Collin thought she was, Caleb Cushing’s agent never realizes that she was sleeping with the enemy. “If you want to lift the blockade and save Lawrence,” Jim Lane says, “you must eliminate those forts!” No one speaks. The idea of attacking the vigilante fortifications is as disagreeable to the town council and the mayor as it is to the Christian ministers and their congregations. “These men came to Lawrence to fight,” Lane continues indicating the newly arrived free staters. “We still have some Sharp’s rifles. And my men are ready.”

A healthy debate follows. Though the discussion is heated and impassioned, pro and con, the decision is unanimous. Lawrence cannot be abandoned to the vigilantes so the forts must be seized to end the blockade. Lawrence’s town council and repudiation committee authorize Jim Lane to seize the forts guarding the roads that lead to Lawrence.

“Before we attack,” Mayor Hoyt says, “we should give the vigilantes occupying the forts the option of withdrawing, voluntarily.”

“You can’t do that!” Lane argues. “If you announce our attack, you take away any surprise that we might have.”

“I absolutely refuse to condone any attack against those forts before giving the men inside an opportunity to surrender,” Hoyt insists. “And since you are not prepared to march immediately, there is ample time for me to arrange a peaceful settlement.” The mayor bangs a makeshift gavel down on the table. “This decision is final.”

After the others leave, Burt Falks and Tom Boone remain to discuss the attack with Frank Yerby and Ellen. “I don’t know what concerns me more,” Boone says. “the possibility that Jim Lane is leading us into a trap or the likelihood that Stoddard Hoyt wants to turn us into martyrs.” The others nod in agreement.

“If Stoddard goes to offer peace terms to those bushwhackers,” Ellen decides, “I’m going with him.”

The men shake their heads. “Who do you think you are? Yerby asks. “Joan of Arc?” He looks to Tom Boone for assistance.

But Tom decides not to interfere with Ellen’s personal decision. “I guess I’ll head for home,” he says.

As he heads out the door, Burt Falks says, “I’ll join you.”

Once Boone and Falk leave, Yerby turns to Ellen. “If you want to commit suicide,” “why not put a bullet in your brain and get it over with? Don’t drag it out and make it hard on those who love you.”

Who does he think he is? Ellen mutters turning her back on the suthor. I don’t need him, I don’t need his advice and I don’t need him telling me what to do!

But Frnak Yervby is a rejected suitor. And Yerby believes that Ellen has spurned his advances is because of Shields Green. Noticing how Ellen laughs when she and Shields are together, he imagines a romantic relationship. She doesn’t laugh when she is with me, Yerby grumbles, How could she reject me for that old, country Negro whose smarts come from his hands and feet? But Ellen and Shields are like sister and brother. Shields is devoted to Ellen. Devotion is a part of his nature. Ellen trusts and relies on Shields. He is the only man she trusts. Neither of them wants or expects anything more from other than a deep and abiding friendship. Yerby, on the other hand, wants and even expects Ellen to be infatuated with him. Afte scoffing at Christian mythology, Yerby is trapped in a myth of his own making. The silly old fool suffers from the same sexual fantasies that consume the energies of many black men.

 “I am going with Stoddard, Frank. I am a Cathar and I bound to support him. If you don’t want to join us, I’ll understand.”

“That’s not it and you know it,” Yerby protests.

“Know what?” Ellen’s emerald green eyes flash with irritation. “We leave tomorrow. So, if you don’t mind, I would like to get some rest.” Turning on her heel, Ellen retreats to her cabin. Observing them both, Shields laughs to himself. Dem folks sure do have a time with each other.

Episode Thirteen

Stoddard Hoyt leads his two peacemakers twelve miles southwest to Fort Saunders under of a flag of truce. “Major! Major Quantrill!” the sentry shouts.

“What is it, Jimmy?” Quantrill is playing poker and he doesn’t like being disturbed during a game ___ especially when he is losing which he often does.

“I think you’d better come see this, sir,” Jimmy shouts. Barely seventeen, Jimmy left his family in Missouri to fleece Kansas homesteaders. It was ‘plum easy pickins’ Jimmy had told his parents. Almost as easy as stealing from the Indians except the homesteaders had better stuff to steal. Jimmy’s family was dirt poor. His share of the loot from just one raid is more than what his pa makes in a year driving niggers on Davy Atchison’s plantation.

“This had better be important,” Quantrill snaps angrily, “or I’ll ….” But the sight of Stoddard Hoyt’s flag of truce catches Quantrill in mid-sentence. “Well, I’ll be damned, if this don’t beat all.” Quantrill’s didn’t recognize the short, balding man, who, having dismounted from the wagon, stood in front of the fort’s gate. But he certainly recognizes the woman and the darkie still seated in the wagon. It’s her! Quantrill tells himself. Louise’s aunt! Ellen Ingraham! “What you’all want up heah?” Quantrill asks resisting the temptation to kill them immediately. In an aside, Quantrill tells his men, “Look sharp, boys! More of those homesteadin’ abolitionists might be just over the horizon.”

“Major, we’ve come to discuss a matter of some importance,” Lawrence’s Mayor responds.

“Which is?”

“Terms for a peace settlement.”

“A peace settlement! Well I’ll be. You nigger-lovers planning to leave Lawrence, are you?” Quantrill turns and winks at his men gathered behind him, “Well I can’t guarantee your safety, but maybe something can be worked out,” the bushwhacker grins. “When you ’all figurin’ on leavin’?” With Louise’s death fresh in his mind, Billy Quantrill begins to plan the treachery he will use against these nigger lovers. Now, Quantrill thinks, I can burn Lawrence to the ground with every one of those nigger-lovers in it.

 “You misunderstand me sir,” Hoyt explains. “Your blockade against Lawrence is forcing us to retaliate against your forts.”

“What are you talkin’ about?” Quantrill asks,a quizzical expression on his face.

Stoddard Hoyt bravely stands his ground, looking up at the six-foot frame of the vigilante standing before him. “Sir, I am afraid I have given you the wrong impression. We’re not leaving Lawrence; we’re offering you and your men the opportunity to vacate this log house and those others located at Titus and Franklin.” Billy Quantrill, who Governor Shannon commissioned a major in the Kansas militia, could not have been more amused or dumbfounded. “You see, sir,” Hoyt continues, “you and your men are wreaking grievous harm on the people of Lawrence. Many innocent people are suffering because of your attacks. We are determined that you and your border ruffians vacate this area as Governor Shannon promised. It is our desire to avoid bloodshed, but we will use force if it should become necessary. I am appealing to your sense of decency, if not for our sakes, then for the sake of your own men. Please vacate these strongholds here, at Franklin and Titus.”

At first, the pathetic little man bearing no arms and making demands amuses Quantrill. He must be kidding, Quantrill laughs. But then the commander of the Kansas territorial militia becomes concerned. Quantrill has less than a hundred men manning all three of his log houses. “Go tell Claude to scout around and see if we have any other visitors,” Quantrill whispers to young Jimmy. Then turning back to face Hoyt, he says, “We’ve visited your miserable pest hold. None of you nigger-lovin’ abolitionists had the guts to defend yourselves or your women. Now you come up here, hiding behind a woman’s skirts to threaten us. Did Jim Lane put you up to tryin’ to scare us off?” Though both Quantrill and Jim Lane work for the same masters, Billy Quantrill hates Jim Lane. Ever since Quantrill learned that Jim Lane and Louise Collins were lovers, he has wanted Lane dead.

“I have come to make no threats, sir,” the mayor replies. “I have come to offer you the opportunity to avoid the inevitable bloodshed that must follow from your actions here and our determination to defend our homes.” Mayor Hoyt’s attempt to negotiate with Quantrill was noble and brave but not very intelligent. Good men and evil men cannot enter into negotiations because neither value the same things. Like Niccolo Machiavelli, evil men believe that all good men are fools. Evil men value deceit, violence and animosity while good men value honesty, friendship and empathy. As Mayor Stoddard Hoyt soon discovers, a negotiation between good and evil only leads to treachery.

“I don’t make war on women,” Quantrill sneers, “even if lily-livered cowards like you hide behind them. And once we have that darkie there all trussed up, he’s gonna bring a good price at the market in St. Louis. But you, sir, are going to pay for your insolence.” With that, Quantrill pulls out his Colt revolver and calmly shoots Stoddard Hoyt through his head.

Ellen screams as Shields expertly turns the wagon around and makes a mad dash away from the log house. Quantrill’s vigilantes laugh, jeer and fill the air with ear-piercing yells. They fire their pistols in the air just over the wagon’s galloping horses, driving them to run faster. “Shall we go get ’em, Major?” Jimmy asks.

“No, let them be,” Quantrill laughs. “When they tell them abolitionists what happened here, they’ll be leaving Lawrence like rats off a sinkin’ riverboat. Then we’ll round them all up.”

News of Stoddard Hoyt’s murder spreads all over Lawrence and throughout Kansas’ free state settlements. Every church in Lawrence memorializes Stoddard Hoyt’s service to Lawrence. In the streets, citizens openly mourn him.  A Quaker community, devastated by its loss, is forced to reassess its core beliefs. Lawrence’s town council and repudiation committee authorizes Jim Lane and his one hundred and fifty-man militia to immediately attack the vigilante strongholds. Leading his militia out of Lawrence, Lane is accompanied by an additional three hundred free state men including several Quakers. Lane’s well-drilled militia marches two abreast in an orderly column while the volunteers straggle haphazardly behind.

“What do you think it will be like?” one of Quakers asks Yerby.

“What do you mean, son?” Yerby asks. The fear oozes from the young Quaker’s armpits like someone who has not bathed in a month. But he is not the only one who is overcome with fear. Other volunteers break ranks to sit by the side of the road, their trembling legs unable to take another step. The young Quaker believed leaving his congregation to avenge the murder of Stoddard Hoyt was necessary. Now the eighteen-year-old regrets his decision

“Do you think we can lick them?”

“We’re going to lick them all right.” Yerby reassures the youngster.

“I sure hope so!” the boy mumbles “I sure hope so!”

Because it was only four miles away from Lawrence, Lane chose to attack Franklin, first. Fortunately, when Lane’s militia arrives at Franklin, the vigilantes are unprepared for his attack. Hubris causes Quantrill to delay putting Franklin or the other forts on alert. Lane’s men charge the log house, yelling and shouting. But before the militiamen enter the fort’s gates, Franklin’s defenders secure themselves safely inside the log house and prepare to do battle. Lane’s men pour volley after volley into the log house, but their bullets bounce harmlessly off the thick oak structure. From Franklin’s gun ports, the bushwhackers return the militia’s fire, but their shots are equally ineffective. Lying behind fences, mounds of dirt, trees and anything that affords protection, Lane’s men are protected protected from harm. The warring parties remain stalemated; neither side able to inflict harm on the other.

“Let’s smoke them out,” one of Lane’s lieutenant suggests.

“Find a wagon and load it with hay from the corral,” Lane orders. The militia prepares a wagon, douses it with kerosene and sets it on fire. Rolling the wagon against the log house, its hot flames lick greedily at the wooden structure. Soon plumes of smoke begin leaking from Franklin’s gun ports, cracks in the walls and from the roof. Then as fire replaces the smoke, the militia cheers as flames begin devouring the wooden building. Soon coughing men call out, “We surrender! We surrender! Don’t shoot! We’re comin’ out!”

“Hands in the air!” Lane shouts at the fifteen gasping, choking, though otherwise unharmed. vigilantes who stumble from the burning fortress.

“Get water and put out that fire,” Lane orders his prisoners. “Check on casualties, Lieutenant, and report back.”

“Yessir,” Lane’s second in command replies.

Once the fire is extinguished, the militia enters the “fort” and seizes a goodly amount of provisions and weapons. The vigilantes even had a cannon.

“We’ll be able to use that cannon against Saunders, eh Lieutenant?” Lane smiles. An experienced artilleryman and a former gunnery sergeant in the Mexican War, Lane’s second in command gives the field piece a thorough inspection. “Sir,” he informs Lane. “no doubt she’s a fine gun, but there is not an ounce of powder or shot for it.”

“Fortunate for us,” Lane observes.

“Sir?”

“Had our opponents’ powder and shot, we might have had significant casualties and the outcome might have been quite different.”

“No doubt,” the artilleryman replies. “But since we’ll be needing this piece against Saunders and Titus, I’ll need to return to Lawrence for shot and powder.”

 “Take the cannon with you and do what you must for it to meet our needs,” Lane tells the Lieutenant. “And take the prisoners back to Lawrence with you.”

“Yessir!”

“Meet me at Saunders no later than noon tomorrow, do you understand, Lieutenant?”

“I will do my best, sir.”

“I don’t want your best, Lieutenant!” Lane shouts. “I want you there at noon tomorrow. Is that understood!”

“Yessir!”

 “Bradley,” Lane shouts to another officer, “you and Sergeant Cline get those stragglers organized into two units. I want them marching two abreast and pretending they’re soldiers by the time we get to Washington Creek; do you understand?”

“Yessir!” Before heading toward Fort Saunders at Washington Creek, Lane distributes the captured weapons, rifles and handguns, to his volunteers. Then he orders Franklin burned to the ground.

Quantrill was not caught napping at Saunders. He posted pickets and sentries, who reported when they spotted Lane’s militia approaching. Quantrill evacuated his twenty-five-man garrison from Fort Saunders. Before escaping to Fort Titus, Quantrill stripped Saunders of weapons and provisions. Only the mutilated body of Stoddard Hoyt mounted on crossbars erected in front of the log house remains. Lane’s militiamen lower Hoyt’s shot-riddled corpse and bury him with dignity amid a copse of trees near Washington Creek.

 “On to Titus!” Lane shouts.

Fort Titus is not an easy target. Its two-story log house is manned by fifty vigilantes. Governor Shannon Wilson prevented Major Sedgewick, the army commandant at Fort Leavenworth, from interfering with attacks on defenseless homesteaders by his pro-slavery Kansas militia. But he orders Sedgewick to station a company of US troops to back up the Kansas state militia and guard the free state homesteaders incarcerated in Lecompton. With a company of federal troops commanded by seasoned military officers nearby, Quantrill is confident that Fort Titus is secure from Jim Lane’s militia.

In the dawn on the day after they bury Stoddard Hoyt, a vanguard of Lane’s militia, composed of the men who are most eager to avenge Stoddard Hoyt’s murder, attacks Fort Titus without waiting for the main force to arrive. The attack is sudden and ferocious, taking away any advantages Titus’ might have enjoyed. The young Quaker, so overwhelmed with fear on the way to Fort Franklin, was in the vanguard in the initial attack on Titus and was shot and mortally wounded. As the rest of his militia joins in the fight, Lane encircles Fort Titus, preventing Quantrill from sending anyone to Lecompton for help. The two sides exchange a fury of gunfire. Though neither side gains an advantage, each side suffers casualties. Then a horse-drawn wagon, and a cannon charge into Lane’s command post and the free staters emit a roar of welcome.

“Glad you made it, Lieutenant,” Lane shouts.

“Glad to have made it, sir,” the artilleryman replies. “I would have arrived sooner had the major remained where he ordered me to meet him.”

Lane gives his subordinate a wry look. “Well, now that you’re here, let’s put that cannon to work.”

“Yessir.”

The artilleryman was quite ingenious. In addition to packaging his gunpowder charges, the Lieutenant had rummaged through the rubble of Lawrence’s newspaper buildings and recovered the printing type which he molded into cannon balls and canister. Soon the cannon began pounding the fort’s walls.

“All right you, bushwhackers,” the artilleryman shouts at the men inside, “here comes another issue of the Herald of Freedom!” Once the bombardment tears gaping holes into Titus’ walls, the artilleryman fires his cannister rounds into the openings. Casualties inside Titus mount and resistance slackens until it stops altogether. Without anyone at Lecompton or at the federal internment camp being aware, Quantrill’s garrison waves a white flag and surrenders. Jim Lane orders Fort Titus ___ buildings, corrals and barns ___ burned to the ground.  Then he marches his vigilante prisoners, including Billy Quantrill and Claude Combs, manacled and roped together back to Lawrence.

Episode Fourteen

“He’s a murderer!” Ellen screams. “He’s been put on trial! What’s wrong with you people?” Wilson Shannon is again meeting with Lawrence’s town council and repudiation committee. The governor wants a prisoner exchange between . the prisoners that Jim Lane’s militia captured at Franklin and Titus in return for all the homesteaders and free staters held in Lecompton’s federal internment camp, including the Topeka Convention officers under indictment for treason.

“I’m not here to decide which side is right or wrong,” Shannon says. “I’m seeking to free all the prisoners.”  The governor’s slumped shoulders and bloodshot eyes reveal how much of the responsibility he bears for the war between his militia and the free state homesteaders. Bloody Kansas drains the governor’s vitality and plagues his conscience. A life-long Democrat, Wilson Shannon is fundamentally a decent man on everything except white racism, white privilege and slavery. He bears no grudge against the white homesteaders who come to Kansas to settle on free land. But Shannon knows that the northern banks and southern plantation owners are adamant about bringing Kansas into the union as a slave state. Shannon knows that this war is only getting started and wants to absolve himself of shedding the blood of innocent white homesteaders. “I have announced my resignation to the territorial legislature as well as to the president,” the sad-eyed governor confides to his audience. “My only interest is freeing all prisoners before I leave office.”

“You weren’t interested in releasing the innocent homesteaders that you interned in Lecompton concentration camp for months,” Tom Boone shouts out.

“That is true,” Governor Shannon admits. “But what is done is done. Now I’m offering to release them.”

“William Quantrill is a murderer!” Tom Boone shouts. “He and his murderous bushwhackers were found guilty of rape, arson and murder. Now we’re going to hang them.”

“You see Major Sedgewick, here?” the governor replies, referring to the uniformed officer at his side. “He has accompanied me because the US Army guarantees the safety of all the prisoners.” The governor surveys the citizens assembled in Ellen’s schoolhouse.  “We make no threats nor will we take any action for your attacks on the Kansas militia at Saunders, Franklin and Titus.” Governor Stoddard waits for his words to take effect before continuing. “Our only purpose is to obtain the release of the prisoners held here in Lawrence in exchange for those we now hold in Lecompton.” Shannon has been in constant contact with the War Department. Do whatever is necessary to get Quantrill and his militiamen released from those Jayhawkers, Jefferson Davis ordered Kansas’ territorial governor. “I know that you hold your prisoners to blame for the death of Mayor Hoyt,” Shannon continues. “Stoddard Hoyt was a good man and I morn his death. But I must have every one of your prisoners, including William Quantrill, no matter what they have done.”

“Ellen!” Frank Yerby speaks out. “No one here can ever forget what you have done during these terrible times. You have risked your life for Lawrence. If the children and their parents have anything to eat, it is because of you. You loved Stoddard as we all did. You saw Quantrill murder him and you want justice. Yet Stoddard acted according to his conscience and put himself in harm’s way.”

“But if his murderer is freed,” Ellen argues, “how can we be certain that they will not kill again? What will prevent another attack on Lawrence?”

“This is a war, Ellen,” Burt Falks interjects. “This war will not end here in Lawrence.” A hush falls over the crowd. “By negotiating a prisoner exchange, we are not ending the war. The governor promises, in addition to a prisoner exchange, he will return the Sharp’s rifles and the howitzer.” Falk looks at the grim-faced settlers lining the room. “You all know this is not over. Once the governor resigns, we will need all the help and weapons we can get.”

“I do not agree with you,” Ellen says rising from her seat, “but I will yield to your decision.”

After arranging for the prisoner exchange, Wilson Shannon resigns as governor of the Kansas territory. Jefferson Davis appoints Daniel Woodson, Shannon’s secretary and the head of the Kansas Democrat party, acting territorial governor. No one is sounder on the goose than Daniel Woodson. Neither has he any of Shannon’s scruples. Daniel Woodson is an evil man. Jefferson Davis issues Woodson a War Department directive to eliminate every free state homesteader in Kansas. Four days after taking office, Woodson issues an edict:

 For some time now the Kansas territory has been infected with large bodies of men, many of whom have come from states hostile to the property rights of honest plantation owners. These men have combined and confederated together, and amply supplied with munitions of war, have been engaged in murdering the law-abiding citizens of the territory of Kansas and driving others from their homes. These armed men have held law-abiding citizens as prisoners of war, plundered property, burned down houses and even robbed offices of the United States government. All of this has been done for the purpose of subverting, by force and violence, the government of the Kansas territory established by the congress of the United States.

Now therefore, I, Daniel Woodson, acting governor of the territory of Kansas, do hereby issue my proclamation declaring the said territory of Kansas to be in an open state of insurrection and rebellion; and I do hereby call upon all law-abiding citizens of the territory to rally to the support of the territory and its laws. I require and command all officers, civil and military, and call all other citizens of the territory to aid and assist, by all means in their power, in putting down the insurrectionists, and bringing to punishment all persons engaged with them, to the end of insuring immunity from violence and full protection to the persons, property and civil rights of all peaceable and law-abiding inhabitants of the territory. 

Quantrill is getting drunk in A B MILLER’s saloon when a young man marches up to his table. “Where’s that nice-looking filly I used to see around here with you, Billy?” The young man is the son of a dirt farmer who works as an overseer on one of Davy Atchison’s plantations who has recently come to Leavenworth to join Quantrill’s gang of ruffians. The poor redneck couldn’t resist the opportunity to make small talk with William Quantrill, who he has idolized from an early age. Whenever the young man hears the many stories of Billy Quantrill’s exploits, they always include stories about Louise. So now that the young Missourian has an opportunity to see his idol in person, he wants to see the beautiful Louise Collins, as well.

But Billy Quantrill is swimming in an alcoholic stupor and is in no mood to be idolized. Ever since his release from captivity, Quantrill has sulked about AB MILLER’s saloon, drunk and belligerent. Quantrill’s foul temper even forces Davy Atchison to leave Leavenworth and return to his Missouri plantation. Held captive by nigger-loving abolitionists! Quantrill broods. They even threatened to hang me! The more he thinks about it, the more Quantrill drinks. The more Quantrill drinks, the fouler his mood becomes. Raising his bloodshot eyes, the legendary killer fixes his blurry vision on the young Missourian daring to intrude on his privacy. Without saying a word, Quantrill pulls out his navy Colt and fires a forty-four-caliber bullet into the young man’s liver. Surprise and pain compete on the twenty-three-year old’s face, as he struggles to keep his body from slumping to the floor, his life ebbing away in the blackish-red mixture of blood and bile oozing from the gaping wound in his side.  As the young man stares up at his idol who has just shot him, Quantrill goes back to feeling sorry for himself. “Get that ass-hole out of heah,” Quantrill orders after awhile. Minions jump up and remove the body of the still dying man. But when he reads Daniel Woodson’s edict, the vigilante killer shakes off his alcoholic depression and calls out to Claude Coombs, now his top lieutenant: “Gather the boys, Claude! We ride on Lawrence!”.

****

The timing of Daniel Woodson’s proclamation could not have been worse for John Quitman, leader of the Democratic Party and Supreme Grand Master of all Masons in the United States. What angers the former governor of Mississippi and Mississippi’s current Congressman is that neither Jefferson Davis nor Caleb Cushing understand the gravity of the situation. The most significant presidential elections in American history is approaching and Bleeding Kansas has become the dominant national issue. All over the United States, confidence in the Democratic Party is eroding as, every day, newspaper headlines shock the American electorate with descriptions of atrocities in Bloody Kansas. Everywhere denunciations ring out. “Black slavery today will become white slavery tomorrow!” a newspaper editorializes. “The Democrats sacked Lawrence to impose white slavery!” abolitionists warn “The beating of Charles Sumner was meant to intimidate the US Senate!” a legislator declares. “Bleeding Kansas will become ‘bleeding America’” a minister thunders. In the North and West, Democrats desert their party in droves. Only newly arriving immigrants, controlled by big city political machines in the East prevents a complete collapse of the Democratic party outside the South. Action is needed if these matters are to be quieted before the election. While in Washington, Quitman occupies the top three floors of Washington D, C.’s prestigious National Hotel, along with a staff of a hundred slaves and overseers. The congressman invites Caleb Cushing and Jefferson Davis to his private quarters in order to discuss the perilous political situation threatening the Democratic Party’s current control over the US Congress and Senate as well as the White House and Supreme Court.

“Gentlemen, I assume you have read the proclamation issued by that fool Woodson,” Quitman remarks.

“Yes, Supreme Master,” Jefferson Davis replies.

 “That idiot is going to ruin us!”

“But your Supreme Worship,” Davis replies feebly, “you instructed us to run the abolitionists and free staters out of Kansas.”

“Did I tell you to cane a United States Senator on the Senate floor?” Quitman thunders, transfixing his minions with a steely-eyed stare.

“Worshipful Grand Master,” Cushing remonstrates, “we had no way of knowing what Congressman Brooks and Senator Keitt were planning. Had we known …”

“And you call yourself the Attorney General of the United States!” Quitman scoffs. “How many times must I tell you that your job is to know everything.”

Quitman’s minions are cowed into silence. They know that supreme ruler of all Masons in the western hemisphere can end their political careers in a blink of an eye and possibly even their lives as President Zachary Taylor discovered. “I want this business in Kansas to be quieted.”

“Yes, Your Most Worshipful Master,” Cushing replies.

“We have to settle the situation, quickly. Take bleeding Kansas off of the front pages and put the vigilantes out of business ___ at least for a while.”

“How are we to do that without giving up everything we’ve won?” Davis asks.

Glowering at Davis, Quitman barks. “Get rid of that fool Woodson ___ now!”

“But Most Worshipful Grand Master, who will we put in his place?”

Quitman stares up at the ceiling and repeats the question to himself. Who will we put in his place? Who should we make the next Kansas territorial governor? Then a sly smile plays across the lips of the Supreme Grand Master of all the Masonic lodges in the western hemisphere. “I know just the man,” he declares. “An army officer who fought in the Mexican American War, the first mayor of San Francisco ___ and the most disrespectful and insolent 33rd degree Mason in my entire sovereign domain, John White Geary.

[ Next follows the conclusion...]

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