Jacob woke with a start that morning. He had fallen asleep with his head on his desk last night. It was just as well, he practically lived in his office these days. But something seemed odd this morning. Jacob couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something was not right. Then he realized what it was. There was a great commotion outside. People were milling about and muttering to themselves. But how could that be? It was first light; people should just now be waking up. Jacob walked into the sanctuary and down the aisles towards the front door. As he walked he could hear gasps and cries and sobbing coming from outside. Something was definitely wrong. Jacob quickened his pace.
There was a crowd outside. Most of them had their mouths covered and were staring and pointing at something up in a tree. An armed sentry walked up to Jacob and raised a hand to stop him.
“Reverend Channing, sir, you might not want to see this.”But it was too late, Jacob had already seen it. His friend Spartacus was hanging from the branches of the tree. His friend that he had taken in and defended and inspired and baptized and given new life was now naked and swinging from a noose. His body bore the marks of fresh torture and from his neck was hung a placard bearing a message of hate:
“You’re next you nigger-loving jayhawker trash.”Jacob’s knees turned to water. He opened his mouth to speak but his voice had
97 run away in terror. Ruth walked up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder, but Jacob brushed it off. He was inconsolable. So it had come to this. The life he had given was turned to death. The hope he had given was twisted to horror. So be it. Jacob knew what he had to do. His resolve stiffened. He stood up, turned around, and walked back into his office. Once again he pulled the largest Bible from the shelf and turned to the Book of Exodus. He took a box of ammunition from his desk and loaded his .45 caliber Bible verse. Jacob figured he would also need the Book of Judges for this close encounter, and produced his secondary armament. Once he was locked and loaded he walked back outside. It was a sight to see.
On the streets was no longer a crowd milling about but the men of Adams getting organized. Peter stood at their head doing his part as the duly elected captain of the militia.
“Form ranks men! This is no drill, we are going into battle! Ready yourselves!” Once the men were in their formation, Peter turned on his heel and saluted.
“Sir, the men are formed. We are armed and ready for action, sir!”Jacob walked up to him and spoke in a low, conspiratorial tone.
“Peter, this is my battle. It is my fault that my friend is dead, and I will see to it that he is avenged. I cannot ask you or any of these men to come with me.”
“With all due respect, sir, you cannot ask us to stay at home while you go off and get yourself killed. He was my friend too, damn it all! And this is not just your battle.” He turned his head and raised his voice to parade ground volume.
“Isn’t that right men?!”“Yes sir!”
“We are coming!”
“We are with you Reverend!” “They can’t kill us! If Kansas is free then we live forever!”
The men cheered. Their captain turned to once again face the man they were proud to call their leader.
“The men are formed and ready sir. We are going with you. We will fight. If our lives are required to make Kansas free, then so be it. We are all willing to pay that price. It is our duty to make sure there is no more strange fruit hanging from these trees, and you cannot ask us to shirk it.”
Jacob shook his head, but he relented. He knew that once an idea had burrowed its way into Peter’s head trying to dig it out was an exercise in futility. Then there came another sight to see. The women of Adams came walking down from the north side of town. Ruth walked at their head. Behind her many of the women were carrying heavy cases marked “Bibles.” Jacob walked up to Ruth, his brow furrowed in confusion.
“What is this? Are you going on a missionary trip?” A sly smile turned up the corners of Ruth’s mouth.“Of a kind; we are coming with you. I am coming with you.” Jacob’s eyes grew wide with fright.
“No! Ruth, you cannot do this. It’s bad enough that the men of this town are determined to sacrifice themselves. It is dangerous out there!” Ruths face wrinkled in a rare expression of outrage.
“Damn your stubborn hide Jacob Channing! I love you, and I do not care about danger. I let you go once, and I will never do so again. If you are going, then I am coming with you, and it is just that simple. Besides, he was my friend too. All of these women know the danger, and they all volunteered. Isn’t that right ladies?!”
“That’s right!”“We are coming too, Reverend!”
“We stand by our men!” A self-satisfied smirk crossed Ruth’s face. Again Jacob shook his head, but again he relented.
“So be it then. If you will not be turned from this path then I would rather have you walking beside me than sneaking up behind me.” Ruth nodded and turned to speak with the woman standing beside her.
“Sister Betty, would you be so kind as to pass out Beecher’s Bibles?”“I would be happy to Sister Ruth.”
The cases were opened, and the .50 caliber muzzle-loading “Bibles” were passed through the ranks of the women. Jacob gazed out in wide wonderment at this outpouring of support. He decided it was good, as now Spartacus would surely have his revenge. Two Rivers came walking up, and the crowds parted so that Jacob’s most trusted advisor might have a word with him. Two Rivers walked up and looked into Jacob’s eyes. He was frightened by what he saw written in those eyes. This time, Two Rivers found that he could not hold his peace.
“What happened to turning the other cheek, Reverend?”“What happened to an eye for an eye?”
“I have seen this before. Many times have I seen young braves walk the war path with blood in their eyes, and always their path was a short one. I know that you grieve for your friend. He was my friend too. But you cannot bring him back by dying. Then I will only lose two friends on this day.” Two Rivers turned to address with the crowd.
“Are you so eager to become martyrs? Do you want to live through this? Then fight smart. Fight like you’re outnumbered. Fight like an Indian.” He turned back to face Jacob once again.
“If you are determined to this, then I cannot talk you out of it. But I am coming with you, and we are both coming back alive.”The die was cast. Every adult in Adams had set themselves on a course from which there was no turning back. There was activity everywhere as they saw to their weapons and encouraged their comrades. Peter addressed his men one last time.
“All right, this is it! We have prepared for this! You are ready for this! Remember your training, and you will come back alive. All squadron commanders, perform pre-combat inspections. Let’s get ready to move out!”
But Peter’s brave words rang hollow in his ears. He knew it was a lie. All of their training had focused on mounting a defense of Adams, not launching an invasion of Jefferson. He pulled Two Rivers aside and spoke to him in a hushed but panicked tone.
“Tell me you have a plan!”The adults all marched off, and Adams became a city of children. Those old enough to know what was happening were quick to organize games for the younger ones. For the younger children it was a holiday. They laughed and played with wild abandon as only children can. The older children wore smiles on their faces, but the merriment masked the horrible knowledge that they carried inside. By the end of the day, many of them would be orphans.
The abolitionist army was on the march. Jacob led them south. Ruth was at his side, and she determined that she would never leave his side for so long as she lived. Peter and Two Rivers walked through the ranks. They passed the ammunition and they passed the word. They were ready for the final battle. As the men and women of Adams went marching along, they sang their battle hymn.
“John Brown’s body lies a-rotting in the grave, but his truth goes marching on!”