Patriotic Treason: John Brown and the Soul of America by Evan Carton

Author:Evan Carton [Carton, Evan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: History, United States, Civil War Period (1850-1877), Biography & Autobiography, Historical, General
ISBN: 9780743293853
Google: yVaONSyFh5AC
Amazon: B000JMKS7Y
Barnesnoble: B000JMKS7Y
Publisher: Atria Books
Published: 2006-09-15T04:00:00+00:00

Lying prone in the tall grass, hidden from view, the men spoke little. The waiting was interminable. Only the altered shadows of the trees as the sun inched across the sky marked the passing of time. Brown pounded corn between small stones, then moistened it and rolled it into balls, which he cooked slowly among the coals of a small, nearly smokeless fire. Some of the men nibbled at the corn balls or chewed on dry beef. At intervals, their leader broke the silence with a few words of encouragement. They had a duty to perform, he said. However hard, it was necessary work. However their flesh and even their consciences might revolt from it, it was righteous work. And there was no one else to do it.

Not until the moon shone weakly in the cloudy sky did the eight men leave the wagon and horses. It was just after ten o’clock on Saturday night. Walking up the north bank of Pottawatomie Creek toward the proslavery settlement, they approached the Doyle cabin. There, Brown divided the company into three groups. Townsley and Frederick Brown were to stop about two hundred yards short of the cabin and stand guard on the rough wagon road. Weiner and Henry Thompson were assigned to continue down the road past Doyle’s house and take up a post between it and the Wilkinson place a half mile further on. Brown, Owen, Salmon, and Oliver would approach James Doyle’s door.

The guard detail had no sooner taken up its position than two of the Doyles’ dogs leapt out of the brush and charged toward them, furiously barking. Frederick swung his broadsword down onto the neck of the lead dog, killing it instantly, and slashed at the other until it retreated howling into the woods. Brown and his other sons froze. If someone had heard the dogs and came to investigate, the men would have to force their way in. But, inside the cabin, all was silent.

His team waited a few minutes before Brown stepped to the door and rapped hard.

“What is it?” James Doyle’s voice sleepily called.

“I am looking for Mr. Wilkinson’s house,” Brown responded. “Would you be kind enough to point out the way?”

When Doyle cracked the door, Brown shoved him back, and he and his three sons entered with drawn pistols and knives. Doyle’s wife Mahala stood behind him, clutching a frightened little girl. From their beds in the room’s far corner, Doyle’s three sons arose in their nightclothes. Confiscating the Doyles’ few small arms and knives, Brown announced that the father and sons were prisoners of the Northern Army and ordered them outside. Staring at this implacable old man in soiled clothes, a straw hat pulled down almost to his eyes, and an ominous black bandana tied loosely around his neck, Mahala Doyle alone seemed to understand what was happening. She begged him not to take her youngest son, who was only fourteen years old. Brown looked the boy over, nodded, and released him to his mother.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.