Chapter Eighteen

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Chapter Eighteen

The next week a veritable tidal wave of relations and sundry friends descended upon our household, come in from the country for April conference. The men crowded into Father’s study to confer, while the women attempted to put on a meal of sorts. As it was showering outside, this task was severely hampered by the presence of a great many children underfoot. Both Aunt Lucy and her husband, Arthur Milliken, and Uncle Samuel and Aunt Levira came with their children.

“He took my marbles!” complained Joseph F., my younger brother, pointing at one of the youngsters.

A sling was retrieved. Someone tipped over a bowl of corn meal. It was cleaned up. Another child found a whistle and tried it out. He was sent to the men. Amidst all this confusion, we were overjoyed to be together once more.

“Tell us the news. We’ve told you our little bit, but with Lovina’s engagement and all this rattle tattle I hear about the Smith’s being killed off – you must tell!” cried Aunt Lucy and Aunt Levira.

In between settling more childhood altercations, cries for food, and the stirring of the stew and baking of the johnny cakes, the tale was attempted. Then we told of all the doings of the past week.

“Perhaps they really did mean to kill us,” worried Aunt Levira.

Aunt Lucy was worried, too. “From what you say of the secret meetings at Brother Law’s, I’d say they still have the plan. Just where is this Jackson? Might he come to Colchester and murder me in my sleep?”

I assured her, “Uncle Joseph said he wouldn’t scare an old setting hen. He left town, so I’ve put most of my fears to rest. Mother says to remember the Lord is on our side. He watches over us.”

Mother chided, “Martha Ann, now don’t squeeze that baby! Loving, why don’t you stop your churning and take the baby up in your arms until the rain stops.”

“Doesn’t look likely to stop. Could John hold her?”

John looked none too anxious to take on the job. He wiped a hole in the steamy windowpane and looked for the steamboat that was expected.

“I have a new churn that you kick with your feet like a cradle. You put the baby right on top!” Aunt Lucy told us.

Picking up the baby, I said, “To return to the tale, after Uncle Joseph revealed the conspiracy against us, there were at least two meetings held at Brother Law’s across the way. Even with guards set all about the street, folks walked right past and went in.”

“Whatever are the meetings about?” asked Aunt Lucy.

“Seems that’s a secret,” Mother answered. “Hyrum claims that it is all a hum, that Jackson spread it around that the Laws wanted to kill the Smiths. He assures me that they have no such plan – that it was all Jackson. But why would they keep on having meetings? And the things that go on! There have been the most peculiar legal maneuverings this past week.”

“There was a robbery at the Keystone Store, and they stole five hundred dollars!” I added for good measure.

“And Chauncy Higbee drew a pistol on the police and threatened to shoot!” my brother Joseph F. added.

“Perhaps it would be prudent to continue this conversation after the rain stops,” Aunt Mercy suggested, knowing that we could talk more freely without young ears listening.

But Aunt Lucy cried, “Oh! You mustn’t! I could not bear to leave the rest of this tale for later, now that you have tantalized me with a part of it.”

Coming away from his window, my brother John spared us the task and explained with great relish. “You see, they had it all planned ahead. This Missourian and two others robbed the store and blamed it on a negro and beat him. The negro came running to Uncle Joseph and told the truth. So the real culprits were arrested and tried. But they found out that the three had previously been tried at a phony trial by Dr. Foster. So he was in on it too. And the robbery took place at the Keystone Store – that’s where Jackson had been hanging about. So you see, it was all planned by those desperados. The council couldn’t get anything on them, though, because there was no one to testify but a black man. But, despite that, they got those Higbees! That’s when Mr. Chauncey Higbee drew a pistol on the marshal and was arrested.” He enjoyed having their rapt attention for so long.

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