For This Land Read online

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Kansas Territory 1856

  July 8, 1856

  July 9, 1856

  July 12, 1856

  July 13, 1856

  July 15, 1856

  July 17, 1856

  July 18, 1856

  July 19, 1856

  July 22, 1856

  July 25, 1856

  July 28, 1856

  July 31, 1856

  August 1, 1856

  August 5, 1856

  August 6, 1856

  August 9, 1856

  August 10, 1856

  August 11, 1856

  August 12, 1856

  August 13, 1856

  August 14, 1856

  August 15, 1856

  August 16, 1856

  August 18, 1856

  August 19, 1856

  August 22, 1856

  August 24, 1856

  August 27, 1856

  August 29, 1856

  August 30, 1856

  September 2, 1856

  September 3, 1856

  September 12, 1856

  September 13, 1856

  September 14, 1856

  September 16, 1856

  September 17, 1856

  September 18, 1856

  September 22, 1856

  September 23, 1856

  September 24, 1856

  September 27, 1856

  September 30, 1856

  October 1, 1856

  October 3, 1856

  October 4, 1856

  October 6, 1856

  October 7, 1856

  October 10, 1856

  October 13, 1856

  October 15, 1856

  October 16, 1856

  October 22, 1856

  November 3, 1856

  November 4, 1856

  November 7, 1856

  November 8, 1856

  November 10, 1856

  November 11, 1856

  November 12, 1856

  November 20, 1856

  Historical Note

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Other books in the My America series

  Copyright

  July 8, 1856

  It is Christmas in July! Mother brought me a new diary from St. Louis. She planned to save it for Christmas. But I had finished my first diary. So she gave it to me today.

  What a different life I would be writing about if Mother had not caught cholera last spring. Then she never would have had Father put my brother, Pres, and me on a riverboat. We would never have gone up the Missouri River in the care of their friend Dr. Baer. We would not be living in a small cabin with Mother’s sister, my Aunt Margaret, and Uncle Aubert, and my cousins, George, Charlie, and John. Mother and my little sister, Grace, would not be here, either. And Father would not be on his way to Kansas Territory, also known as K.T. But Mother did catch cholera. And here we are.

  Aunt Margaret is singing with happiness to have Mother and Grace here. Once she was the only woman in the cabin. Now there are four. Aunt Margaret says it is a terrible shame that women cannot vote in elections. But in our cabin, when anything must be decided, we women will have a vote.

  Later

  I helped Mother unpack. She will sleep in my cozy quilt room now. She grew teary getting out the photographs of my brothers, Lee and Larry. She said it was the hardest thing she has ever done, leaving her babies behind in the St. Louis cemetery.

  I will sleep up in the loft now. Grace will, too. Aunt Margaret hung a blue-and-white quilt from the rafters. George, Charlie, John, and Pres sleep on the white side of the quilt. Grace and I call our side the Blue Quilt Room.

  Later

  Uncle Aubert and George have finished building the summer kitchen. It is next to the cabin. They made it with sod bricks dug from the earth. They moved the cookstove into it. Now our cabin will not be heated up when we cook.

  If only Father were here! Mother says we can start watching for him in two weeks.

  July 9, 1856

  It was hot in the loft last night. The boys pulled themselves out the window and climbed onto the roof to cool off. I wanted to go, too. But I was afraid Grace would try to follow me. So I only stuck my head out the window.

  When I looked out my window in St. Louis, I saw big, brick houses. And fancy carriages passing by. Now when I look out I see the shapes of three big, flat-topped hills against the sky. George says one is Bald Mound. One is Blue Mound. The biggest is Mount Oread. There are no trees on the top of these mounds. George says the Shawnees used to burn them off each year. That way their scouts could stand on top of a mound and see for miles.

  Back in St. Louis, our maid, Nellie, woke me in the morning. Now I wake up with the sun. This morning, Charlie, John, and Pres ran out to the prairie to collect cow chips. George, Grace, and I went to the barn. I fed Mollie the cow, her calves, and Kip the ox. George fed the horses, Bay and Star. Grace fed the chickens.

  Once the animals were fed, Uncle Aubert set an empty barrel on the wagon bed. He hitched Kip to the wagon. Grace and I led him down to the stream. Our gray cat, Mouser, came, too. I filled buckets in the stream and poured water into the barrel. Grace splashed in the stream. She is only four and needs to play. But it was hard to work and keep an eye on her. At last, I made up a bucket-counting game, and got that barrel filled. We led Kip up the hill, hungry for a breakfast of Aunt Margaret’s johnnycakes.

  In St. Louis, Mrs. Potter cooked for us. But Mother says surely she can make johnnycakes.

  Later

  My friend Lily Vanbeek rode to our cabin this evening on her very own pony. She calls him Honey. Lily let me ride him. My first pony ride! Uncle Aubert says a pony is a fine way for a young lady to get around on the prairie.

  Lily told me a wonderful secret. Come spring, her mother will have another baby! Lily has six brothers. She asked me to pray for a baby girl.

  Later

  Tonight after supper we all sat on the cabin steps to catch the breeze. We saw a wagon coming. Uncle Aubert went quietly into the cabin to get his rifle. Pres asked why. Uncle Aubert only said, “Let’s see who it is.” I believe he thought it might be a Border Ruffian.

  Ruffians come over the border to K.T. from Missouri or other states that allow slavery. Uncle Aubert says they are troublemakers. But it was no Ruffian coming to our cabin. It was Mr. Jasper Young, the traveling photographer.

  Aunt Margaret fixed Mr. Young a plate of supper. As he ate, he told us news he has heard in his travels. He said we have a new governor who believes slavery should be allowed in K.T. Uncle Aubert said this is terrible news.

  Charlie and John brought a big pile of hay into the cabin. They put quilts on it to make Mr. Young a “prairie feather bed.” When it grew dark, everyone turned in. Everyone except Uncle Aubert. He sat on the steps, brooding.

  I sat down beside him. I asked him what was wrong. Uncle Aubert told me he is worried about K.T. He said in the last election here, a judge declared that if a man had been in K.T. for one hour, he could vote. Thousands of Border Ruffians came to K.T. They voted for candidates who favored slavery. These men won. Now K.T. has a pro-slavery government. Uncle Aubert says it is a bogus government, not fairly elected. And now they have made it a crime even to speak out against slavery.

  Uncle Aubert says K.T. will have another election soon. Men will vote on how Kansas should enter the United States. Will it be a slave state? Or will it be a free state where slavery is not allowed? It is all up to the election. Uncle Aubert says that if Kansas becomes a slave state, it will tip the balance in favor of slavery all over the country. Then, he said, it is likely that slavery will never end.

  The Ruffians are part of a pro-slavery army. Its s
oldiers are trying to drive Free-State men out of K.T. so they cannot vote in the election. But men who are against slavery have formed an army, too. It is called the Free-State Militia. Uncle Aubert says these armies are fighting for the future of Kansas.

  Uncle Aubert took to brooding again. So I came up to bed. Now I am worried about K.T., too. Why did I have to ask Uncle Aubert what was wrong?

  July 12, 1856

  This morning, Mr. Young showed us some photographs he took in Lawrence last spring. The first was of a man named John Brown. His eyes looked fierce, and I said so. Mr. Young smiled. He seemed glad to have captured this quality in John Brown. He said John Brown is a fierce fighter against slavery in our land.

  Another photograph showed the Free State Hotel. Still another showed a newspaper office. Mr. Young said it was The Herald of Freedom. Pres said, “Harold who?” Mr. Young said that a “herald” is a messenger bringing important news. And Pres said, “Like, ‘Hark! The herald angels sing’?” Mr. Young said, “Exactly.” He said The Herald of Freedom was a messenger for freedom in K.T.

  Then Mr. Young held up a photograph he took in Lawrence last week. It showed ruins of buildings that had burned to the ground. One was the Free State Hotel. The other was The Herald of Freedom.

  Mr. Young said the Ruffians burned them down. They destroyed The Herald of Freedom printing press. They threw thousands of lead letters used for setting type into the river. For Ruffians do not believe in freedom for everyone, Mr. Young said. Especially not for Negro slaves.

  All this happened in May. Mother sent Pres and me to K.T. in May so we would not catch cholera. Mother said she never would have sent us had she known what was going on in Kansas.

  Bedtime

  I will blow out my candle now. I will pray for a sister for Lily.

  July 13, 1856

  Grace and I led Kip up from the stream this morning. When we reached the top of the hill, we saw smoke pouring from the summer kitchen. We feared it was going up in flames! But it was only Mother, making johnnycakes.

  We ate hard biscuits for breakfast.

  July 15, 1856

  Uncle Aubert is taking some chickens into Lawrence this afternoon. The grasshoppers ate all his corn. So he will trade the chickens for cornmeal. He says Mother and I may go with him!

  Bedtime

  I saw so much in Lawrence today!

  I saw three huge round holes dug in the ground. They are called “mud forts.” They are nearly as deep as a man is tall. Uncle Aubert says if Ruffians attack, Free-State soldiers with rifles will go down into the mud forts to defend the town. They can pop up from the forts and shoot at Ruffians. Then they can duck down to keep from being shot.

  I hope they never have to do this!

  Our first stop was the Dry Goods Shop. Uncle Aubert took in the crate of chickens. He got six sacks of cornmeal in return. A thermometer outside the store read 105 degrees. And it was in the shade!

  On our way to the bank, we passed by the rubble where The Herald of Freedom and the Free State Hotel once stood. It was a sad sight.

  We also passed the Emigrant Aid Society office. Part of the office is used for the Lawrence School. I asked Uncle Aubert when it will start. And he said, “When the Ruffians go home.” Go home now, Ruffians!

  At the bank, Uncle Aubert traded his gold dollars for the new paper banknotes. The President wants everyone to use them now. Aunt Margaret does not like paper money. But Uncle Aubert says he trusts it because every dollar is backed up by gold kept in Washington.

  Our last stop was the post office. There was no letter from Father. But there was a package from the Emigrant Aid Society in Boston. Uncle Aubert says this society is strongly against slavery. They want Kansas to become a Free State. So they send what they can to support the Free-State settlers in Kansas.

  The whole way home, I wondered what might be inside that package. But when Aunt Margaret opened it, there were only old boys’ shoes. Aunt Margaret was glad. She says shoes are hard to come by in K.T. But George, Charlie, and John are always barefoot. Pres is, too. It is a pity there were no girls’ shoes in the package.

  July 17, 1856

  I have a pony!

  This morning, Uncle Aubert asked me to come out to the barn. And there stood a sweet brown pony, eating hay. “She is yours, Meg,” he said. The pony’s name is Sally. Uncle Aubert bought her from a neighbor who is now too old to ride. He says when it cools off, I can ride Sally over to show Lily.

  Sally has big brown eyes. She has a big belly, too. I am so happy she is mine!

  July 18, 1856

  I no longer have a pony.

  Yesterday afternoon, Uncle Aubert boosted me up onto Sally’s back. Sally began trotting down the path. At the lightning-struck oak, I pulled the reins to turn Sally right, toward the Vanbeek’s cabin. But Sally did not turn. I pulled the reins with all my might. But Sally kept trotting straight for Blue Mound. There was nothing to do but sit on her back and be bounced.

  At last, we came to a cabin at the foot of Blue Mound. Now I knew I had bounced for three miles, for our cabin is that far from Blue Mound. Sally trotted past the cabin and straight to the barn behind it. She began eating hay. I slipped off her back.

  I walked toward the cabin. My heart was pounding. Was it a Ruffian’s cabin? I called, “Anyone home?”

  A voice answered. “Come in!”

  The cabin was dark inside. But I made out an old person sitting in a rocker. She said she was Mrs. Biggs. She was small. Her silver hair was knotted on top of her head. Mrs. Biggs asked if I had a kind heart. I said I hoped I did. She asked if I could write. I said yes. She asked many questions. But she never asked why I had come to her cabin.

  At last, Mrs. Biggs told me that she would soon be going to her heavenly reward. She said that as long as I was there, I might as well take down her last wishes. She told me where to find ink, pen, and paper. Then Mrs. Biggs had me write down the Bible verses she wanted for her funeral. And the psalms. And the hymns. She told me the names of flowers she hoped to have on her grave if she died this summer. And which ones she wanted should she last until fall, which she thought unlikely. I felt sad that she was so alone. That she had to tell her last wishes to a strange girl who had come to her by accident.

  Then I heard footsteps. A woman about Aunt Margaret’s age came into the cabin. She said, “Mother! Not again!”

  Mrs. Biggs’s daughter turned to me. She said, “I suppose Sally brought you.”

  I said she had.

  “And did you write a list of Mother’s last wishes?” she asked.

  I nodded. Had she been peeking at the window?

  Mrs. Biggs’s daughter told me that her mother has sold Sally four times. Each time, Sally has brought a child back to this cabin. Each time, her mother asked the child to write down her last wishes. She said that her mother was as healthy as a horse. She said her mother would outlive us all.

  Mrs. Biggs said she did not think she would last the night.

  Mrs. Biggs’s daughter gave me a biscuit. She told me that she has ten children. She begs her mother to come and live with her family. But Mrs. Biggs says no.

  At dusk, Uncle Aubert rode up. When I did not come home, he guessed that Sally had gone back to her old barn. Mrs. Biggs gave him his money back, and we rode home double on Star.

  July 19, 1856

  Every part of me hurts from bouncing on Sally.

  Lily came over today. I told her about Sally. Lily says she will find out if Honey has a brother or sister who could be my pony.

  Lily and I braided prairie grass into a crown for Grace. Lily said I was lucky to have a little sister. She asked if I have been praying for her baby sister. Every night, I told her.

  July 22, 1856

  I was watering the apple trees this morning when I heard Mother scream. I quickly filled my bucket from the barrel and ran to the summer kitchen. I feared she had set something on fire. Aunt Margaret ran in from the cabin. But nothing was burning. Mother was pointing at a bla
ck snake behind the stovepipe, yelling, “Kill it! Kill it!” Aunt Margaret said no. She said we are lucky to have this kind of snake. It will keep the kitchen free of rats. Mother sat down on a cracker box. She said she was weak in the knees.

  July 25, 1856

  We had a close call.

  We were in the cabin yesterday, fixing midday dinner. We heard thunder. Aunt Margaret looked out the window. She said, “I don’t like that sky.” I looked out. The sky was glowing very bright. Aunt Margaret said heat lightning must have touched off a fire in the dry prairie grass. We ran outside. Uncle Aubert was hurrying out of the barn. He had seen the sky. He said the wind was blowing the fire our way!

  John and Pres led Bay, Star, Mollie, and her calves down to the stream for safety. Charlie and Grace chased the chickens down, too. Aunt Margaret hitched Kip to the wagon. We ran him down to the stream with the water barrel, filled it, and ran him up the hill. When we got back, George had made three piles of prairie grass. Uncle Aubert was lighting them on fire! I thought he had lost his mind. But Aunt Margaret said he was lighting “back-fires.” He wanted the little fires to burn up all the grass near the cabin. Then there would be nothing left for the big fire to burn.

  The air grew hot and smoky. It was hard to breathe. Suddenly, orange flames burst out of the smoke! I was so scared.

  Mother handed out flour sacks. We all dunked them in the water barrel. Pres stood on one side of me. George stood on the other. We slapped at the flames with the wet sacks. When the sacks dried out, we dunked them again. Then we slapped at the flames some more. We fought that fire for hours. Perspiration poured off of us. We could hardly breathe for the smoke. I thought we might have to run down to the stream and save ourselves while the cabin burned.

  Then, out of the gray smoke came the Vanbeek’s wagon. Lily’s three big brothers jumped out. They had seen the flames and had come to help. They brought more flour sacks. They stood by us, battling the flames.

  At last, Uncle Aubert called from somewhere in the smoke, “I think we got it beat!”