The Burning Barn: Speed and Hattie In Civil War Missouri
A Novel
by
Richard Black
Copyright © 2012 Richard Black
All rights reserved.
Published in eBook format by eBookIt.com
ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-0930-6
This novel is a work of fiction. Although there is a correspondence with some events in the lives of John Speed Smith Wilson and Harriet Willis Wilson, names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Although I have included historical personages of the time, including James Craig, General Marmaduke and Jefferson Price, the actions and words attributed to them are fictional. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
Blessed are the peacemakers….
For Donna
Forward
When I applied for Conscientious Objector status in the summer of 1966, my parents wrote a letter of support to my draft board. It was then I learned a neighbor burnt the barn of my great-grandfather, one John Speed Smith Wilson, when he refused to participate in the civil war. I already knew that my great-grandfather was in prison, that he chewed buttons while he was there. Several years ago my sister, Caroline Utley, and my cousin, Barbara Bryson, shared copies of letters our great-grandfather and his wife, Harriet Wilson, exchanged in the winter of 1863. I then located two websites with relevant information: Civil War Saint Louis (http://www.civilwarstlouis.com) with material on Gratiot Street Prison and the Union Provost Marshall’s Papers in the Missouri State Archives (http://www.sos.mo.gov/archives/Provost/provostpdf.asp. View roll 1605, images 422-426). Barbara Bryson also shared a copy of a page from the Wilson family bible with the names and dates of birth and death for JSS Wilson, Harriet Wilson, and their family. She provided JSS Wilson’s obituary as well. On these documents and family understandings I have composed this civil war fiction.
I would like to acknowledge the careful review of my work given by the Datura Writers Group of Oakland, California, (Jesus Sierra, Robert Pressnall, Farinaz Taidi, Lorna Partington, Laura Riggs, Jamey Jenna, Adele Mendelson, and Susan Murray) as well as Amy Wallen of the Idyllwild Arts Summer Program.
I am indebted to Jessica Rose for the cover design and Alex Black for the cover photograph. Norma Lent and Marnie Sperry proofread the manuscript. Russell Silverstein has been a constant support and prod as I worked on this project.
Always and overall I am indebted to my wife, Donna Arganbright, for her editorial comments and continued encouragement.
| The Burning Barn: |
| Speed and Hattie in Civil War Missouri |
Part One
A Boy Named Speed
Chapter 1–– April 1835 –– Leaving Whitley County
Dark was coming fast to the Southern Kentucky hollows in late April of 1835 when Speed knocked softly at Aunt Ruth’s porch door. She called, “I been hoping you’d come. You need another lesson.” She sat in her front parlor, not in the schoolroom out back where he and his schoolmates had their lessons. A lamp lit her face. He thought she looked schoolmarm stern. Speed was impatient to get back to the cabin, to get on with preparations for departure, and just wanted to give Aunt Ruth a polite goodbye. At twelve years old he was growing fast and stood as tall as she. His brown hair hung into his blue eyes, covering several of the random freckles about his face. Aunt Ruth didn’t stand, but remained seated in her best wingback chair. “Bring that stool up and read for me, read just one last time.” She opened her Bible, the big family Bible, which listed the births, marriages, and deaths of the Wilson family. Speed always looked at the carefully lettered roster, taking particular note of his own entry (John Speed Smith Wilson, b. 1823 d.…), his father’s, (David Winston Wilson…b.1795 d. 1825), and his aunt’s (Ruth Jean Wilson, b. 1783...d….) The old lady let him satisfy his curiosity, and then she pointed to a passage in the book of Isaiah.
Speed looked at the lettering, printed large, as he balanced the great book on his knees. At first he did not recognize the words as he read in a high-pitched, halting voice: “But with righteousness he shall judge the poor, and reprove with equity the meek of the earth: and he shall smite the earth with the rod of his mouth, and with the breath of his mouth he shall slay the wicked. And righteousness shall be the girdle of his loins, and faithfulness the girdle of his reins.” Then he got control of his man voice, a smooth deeper voice, so that he could read the familiar lion and the lamb passage. “The wolf shall dwell with the lamb and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; and the calf and the young lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them.”
“Keep going,” said Ruth. “See, He’s coming to end all strife; look next––even the animals––and He’s for all the poor and the meek, but we got to do our part. That’s what God wants.”
Speed’s voice, his man voice, gained confidence as he read, “And the cow and the bear shall feed; their young ones shall lie down together. The lion shall eat straw like the ox. And the suckling child shall play on the hole of the asp, and the weaned child shall put his hand on the cockatrice’s den.” Speed stumbled over the word “cock-at-rice,” but continued, “They shall not hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain, for the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea.”
“You read real good, Speed,” said Aunt Ruth, “real good for your age and just plain real good. Maybe soon you’ll be a preacher. You’d be a good preacher. But those are real good words for a body going out to Missouri. I guess it’s right you leave me and go, leastwise that’s your mother’s choice. Maybe… you… can,” she emphasized each word, “make earth full of the knowledge of the Lord out there.” She stood from her chair and put her arms around the seated youth. “Oh Speed, Speed, you’re such a wonder.” He stood to face her and was intimidated to see tear streaks down her stern and determined face. “It made me so proud when you learned your lessons. I know it woulda made your father proud too. Don’t forget your old aunt when you’re a big man out there in Missouri.” She rested her forehead against his shoulder, so Speed put his arms around her because there was nowhere else to put them. He was surprised at how little there was to his teacher. Mostly he felt ribs and a backbone. Shortly she pulled away and blew her nose with a surprising rasp into a violet-bordered handkerchief, opened a drawer in the lamp table and handed him a black leather-bound Bible. “Take this and read it regular. It’ll help you get through.”
Speed took the book, placed it under his shirt next to his skin, then buttoned the shirt again. “Ma says I can’t stay too long.” The statement was an outright lie. Speed didn’t want to lie, but he had to escape this embarrassing woman. “Thank you for the Bible. I liked that verse,” he said. “I’ll
