“The men of Kansas have need of nurses for the sick and wounded,” she replied, “I will stay and help Katie.”
“I will abide by my children, my brave children,” said the mother. “God help us all to do our duty!”
Alice sat bolstered in her chair by the fire, unconscious of the solemn compact. “Alas,” said Katie, “how I wish we could convey her safely to her mother! but she is too feeble to be removed.”
Emerging from the terrible winter of 1855, the returning sunshine brought some gleams of hope to the suffering colony. They hoped that more emigrants would come in, and they knew the fertile soil would yield abundant crops, if there were hands to till it. But the Border Ruffians soon dashed the cup of pleasant anticipation from their lips. They swore they would stop all Yankee emigrants from going into Kansas; and they renewed their threats to “wipe out Lawrence.” Again they made inroads into the Territory, robbing the already impoverished settlers, and especially seeking to deprive them of arms. During one of these forays, they seized a woman, whom they suspected of concealing ammunition, and dragged her into the woods, where she was subjected to their brutal outrages.
When Kate Bradford heard of this, her naturally pleasant countenance assumed an expression stern almost to fierceness. “I called them savages” she said, “when they scalped some of their victims; but I did injustice to the savages; for, in their worst cruelties, they always respected the modesty of women.” From that time, she practiced with rifle and pistol, and became expert in using them. A similar spirit was roused in several of the women, who agreed to act under her command, if the emergencies of the time required it. Circumstances had goaded her to this. Her nature was kindly as ever, and she prayed fervently to God that no blood might ever rest upon her hands. All along, she had been sustained by the belief that aid would come to Kansas. She had such pride in American institutions, she could not believe that the government of her country was in league with such abominations and outrages, until the return of messenger after messenger sent to Washington, made the damning proof too strong to be resisted. Then her old love of New England increased a hundred-fold; for all her hopes centred there. The Pilgrims that came over in the May Flower, the men and women of ’76, had always been the heroes of her imagination; and the crisis, in which she now found herself living and acting, rendered their crown of glory more luminous in her memory. “Massachusetts will help us,” she was wont to say, with somewhat of filial pride in the confident tones of her voice. “Massachusetts will not look on with indifference, while her emigrant children are driven into a pen-fold to be slaughtered like sheep, by those whom long habits of slaveholding have made familiar with every form of violence and wrong.”
Drearily, drearily, the weeks passed away. Men and women were limping about, with feet that had been frozen during the winter’s severest cold. Many had no guns to shoot game, to protect them from the wolves, or from enemies far worse than wolves. Their ammunition had been stolen from them, provisions were intercepted on the way, and every breeze brought rumours that the ruffians were making ready to “wipe out Lawrence.” Newspapers from the North, and letters from friends, were long delayed, and often destroyed on the way. The haggard settlers looked at each other with forlorn helplessness. They had reached the extremest point of desolation. Still John and Katie said, “Massachusetts will help us. Depend upon it, Massachusetts will not desert her children in their utmost need.” And other brave hearts responded to the cheering words, saying, “Ohio will help us.” “Connecticut will not forget us.” “Illinois will come to the rescue.”
They had said this to each other, at the close of one of their darkest days, when lo! a messenger, sent to Kansas city for letters and papers consigned to a friend there, was seen riding across the prairie. Through various perils, he had brought the packages safely to Lawrence. They were seized and torn open with eager, trembling hands. A crowd of men and women assembled at the printing-office, to hear the news. Mr. Bradford was reading aloud to them, when his countenance suddenly fell. “Go on! Go on!” cried the anxious listeners. He gasped out,” “The Legislature of Texas has voted to give fifty thousand dollars to make Kansas a Slave State.”
“And Massachusetts? What has Massachusetts done?” asked Kate, with nervous eagerness.
He lowered his eyes, as one ashamed of his mother, while he answered, “The Legislature of Massachusetts has voted not to give one dollar to make Kansas a Free State.”
In the midst of all the sufferings that had harrowed her soul, Katie had always remained calm and collected. Now, for the first time, she groaned aloud; and, throwing her arms wildly toward heaven, she exclaimed, in tones of bitter anguish, “Oh, Massachusetts! How I have loved thee! How I have trusted in thee!” Then bowing her head in her hands, she sobbed out, “I could not have believed it.” But Massachusetts was far off. The Governor and Legislature of her native state did not hear her appeal. They were busy with other things that came home to their business, not to their bosoms.