The following is the first chapter of Kate’s Crucible: A Bleeding Kansas Novel.

Chapter One

April 18, 1855, Kansas Territory

The morning sun warmed Kate’s back, promising a beautiful day, as she tramped near the back of a wagon creaking along the top of a long hill on the California Trail, the last of three that had split from the main group. The treeless prairie rolled before her like gentle waves in a green ocean, and the wind hissed through the grass and rustled her dark blue skirt.

Had it only been a year since the argument with Mother? Kate smiled at the memory of the day her mother had announced a plan to send her to Boston. She had objected before sensing the opportunity set before her. Though she had attended parties to placate Mother, the move to Boston allowed Kate to pursue her dream of fighting slavery rather than Mother’s dream of marrying her off to the son of a prominent family.

She would arrive in the new town of Topeka tonight or tomorrow. Their first teacher. Would the children like her as much as the two she’d tutored in Boston? She drew a deep breath and savored the earthy scent of the prairie.

“A beautiful morning.”

“It certainly is.” Hattie Lee strolled beside her, a short woman in a tan cotton dress and a light blue bonnet.

Kate had never asked, but Hattie could only be a year or two older, perhaps twenty? They’d met at the New England Emigrant Aid Company office in Boston when Kate joined the group. Hattie and her husband, G.W., had agreed to transport Kate’s trunks for a modest fee.

G.W. tramped next to his oxen, a taciturn, broad-shouldered man in a wide-brimmed hat. Ahead of him, G.W.’s brother, Allen, drove the middle wagon, and William Goodnow plodded beside the first one in the line.

“I suppose the wind will soon rise and buffet us.” It had blown a constant gale after they’d left Kansas City two days ago.

“At least it’s a warm breeze,” said Hattie. “This land is so different than New England.”

The cloth ribbons of Kate’s white bonnet fluttered, the long sides protruding past her nose like blinders on a horse. She left the cap untied to enjoy the morning air against her cheeks. A line of trees wearing the bright foliage of spring snaked through the valley on her left and traced the course of the Wakarusa River, broken in spots where timber had been felled. Distant shacks squatted in the valley like a handful of pebbles scattered by a strong arm.

Kate gestured at the valley. “I wonder how many of those settlers support a free state?”

“I think many in this area do, though I heard pro-slavery men fill a town behind us on the other side of Lawrence.”

“I still find it hard to believe they stole the election less than a month ago.”

Hattie shrugged. “The free-state settlers should have known they would. The Missourians did the same thing last fall and elected a pro-slavery man to Congress—so says G.W. This time they crossed the border and elected a pro-slavery legislature. Most of those elected live in Missouri.”

An outrage. How could any decent man stoop so low? Kate shouldn’t be surprised—no decency dwelt in pro-slavery men. Anyone who would enslave another would also cheat to preserve his power. Overcoming such evil would require women like her.

She lifted her head. “If women had been allowed to vote, it would have changed the outcome.”

“I doubt it. Not many women live in the territory. I heard a thousand Missouri men came to Lawrence alone to vote. A thousand. I’m glad G.W. decided to stake a claim near the Big Blue River—farther from the border and the ruffians.” Hattie shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. “Enough about politics. We should enjoy this lovely morning.”

Although a talkative woman, Hattie hated conflict. She had avoided discussions of politics, suffrage, and abolition during the journey from Boston. But what else could Kate do to pass the time on the train and steamboat, play cards or drink?

Despite Hattie’s lack of interest in social reform, she was a pleasant friend. Kate touched Hattie’s shoulder. “I’m so happy you allowed me to travel with you. I’m indebted to you and G.W.”

Her new friend blushed. “Nonsense. I’m glad we could do it. I would have been lonely after everyone else split off from the group and headed to the Osage country—just me, three men, and three wagons. I wish you would start a school near us rather than in Topeka. I’ll miss you.”

“I would enjoy living near you, however, the aid company agreed to pay me to teach at Topeka. I’ll miss you as well.”

“Your family must be proud of you, coming all this way to help the free-state cause.”

Family was Hattie’s favorite topic. She loved to talk about her siblings and hopes for children with G.W.

“Perhaps.” Kate forced a smile. If Hattie only knew. Mother would have thundered disapproval had she heard the plan to emigrate. Father would have echoed her outrage.

The argument with Aunt Amelia had been intense enough. “Too sudden,” she had said. “How can you traipse off into the wilderness on a whim?” But when her aunt realized Kate had informed her parents of her imminent departure by a letter, instead of in person, Amelia had scolded and railed. In all the months Kate had lived with her aunt, she had never displayed such anger. At least Kate had informed Mother and Father of her plan. A letter was the only way to avoid their interference.

“We might arrive at the ferry by nightfall. Are you excited?” Hattie’s face brightened like a child’s on Christmas morning.

“Yes. I look forward to the end of travel, even if I must sleep in a tent.”

A gust lifted the bonnet from Kate’s head and blew it past the wagon into knee-high grass beyond the trail. She should have tied it sooner. She gathered her blue skirt and ran to grab the headpiece. The wind whipped past her, and the bonnet opened like a full sail, skimming over the grass until it caught against rocks in a bare patch several yards away.

She ran forward and stopped near the headpiece, now marred with dust. A faint buzz sounded from the rocks. Strange. Did grasshoppers arrive this early in Kansas?

The wind stirred and threatened to lift the bonnet again. She bent to snatch it, and a long brown shape shot from the rocks toward her. Pain lanced the edge of her hand, as sharp as the stab of a hatpin. She jumped back and thrust her arm away. A snake dropped from her hand and coiled itself. She screamed.

Her heart raced as she twisted toward the wagon and stumbled over her skirt. She grabbed the fabric in her left hand and ran toward Hattie, her right hand thrust in front of her.

Hattie caught her, her eyebrows puckered. “What is it? What happened?”

“A … a snake … bit me.” Blood oozed from two wounds between Kate’s wrist and little finger. She shivered.

Hattie gasped, clutched Kate’s hand, and stared at the bloody spots. “What kind of snake? Was it a rattlesnake? Tell me it was a black snake or bull snake.”

“I thought … I heard … a grasshopper.” She panted for breath as nausea flooded her stomach. She should have tied her bonnet. She should have recognized the snake’s rattle.

“A snake bit Kate!”

At Hattie’s yell, G.W. and the two men driving the other wagons ran toward them, G.W. carrying a shovel.

“I should have …” Kate swayed, and her vision narrowed.

Hattie slipped an arm around her. “Help me get her back to our wagon.”

Kate leaned against Hattie, and they shuffled toward the trail.

Allen, driver of the middle wagon, supported her injured arm with a firm grip at the elbow. His clean-shaven face stared at her. “Does it hurt?”

Strange. The pain had ceased. “No, it feels numb.”

She tried to wiggle her fingers, but swelling stiffened them. Allen and Hattie exchanged a solemn glance.

They eased her to the ground near the back of the Lee’s wagon. Hattie sat beside her, an arm across her shoulders.

G.W. ran up and tossed her bonnet into her lap. “It was a rattlesnake. I killed it.”

William, a stocky man with a dark beard, planted his hands on his hips. “Too bad Dr. Hunting led the other group to Osage. He could do the amputation.”

“What?” Saliva flooded Kate’s mouth, and she shook her head. Had she heard him correctly?

“Best thing for rattlesnake bites. If the poison don’t kill ya, it kills the muscle, and infection sets in. People usually die one way or t’other. Best to lose a limb early before the poison spreads too far and takes ya.”

Cut off her entire arm? Was the bite that serious? How could she live with another defect—so much worse than a marked face?

“Does anyone know what rattlesnake weed looks like?” Allen scanned their faces. “I heard the Indians use it to make a remedy.”

Everyone shook their heads.

Sweat stung Kate’s eyes. “No, not my arm.” She squeezed her eyes closed. “Dear God, please help me. I don’t want to die or lose my arm.”

Hattie embraced her as tears streamed down Kate’s cheeks.

G.W. knelt and faced her, his forehead wrinkled over brown eyes and beard. “We should take her back to Lawrence. The aid company agent lives on this side of town atop the ridge. He’s a doctor. He’ll know what to do.”

Kate sucked in a deep breath. “Dr. Robinson?”

G.W. nodded.

“I know him. Take me there.” He would know how to spare her arm.

William shook his head. “The poison’ll spread while we take her.”

“I read you should tie off the limb and drain the poison.” G.W. tossed the shovel aside. “I’ll do that and take her back to Dr. Robinson. Does anyone have a cupping glass?”

No one did. Kate’s stomach twisted a moment before she lurched to the side and vomited onto G.W.’s brown boots. The back of her throat burned, and a vile taste filled her mouth. Had the poison already spread?

G.W. drew his Bowie knife and slashed the cloth ties from her bonnet, then tied the strips together and cinched them above her elbow. She winced at the pain. At least the numbness and swelling had not reached that far, though her fingers were as tight as fat sausages, and puffiness had passed her wrist.

He gripped her hand and placed the tip of his knife on one puncture wound. She clenched her teeth and held her breath as he sliced two slits to the edge of her hand, one from each wound. He squeezed and milked blood from the gashes. A stream spattered her dress before Hattie wrapped a handkerchief across her swollen palm.

Her strength ebbed, and she slumped backward. Hattie’s face faded away.

***

“Kate, please wake up.” A voice drifted through the darkness.

Mother?

“Don’t do this to me.”

No, not Mother. Hattie.

She struggled to open her eyes. Sunlight glared against her squint. Her head lay in the crook of Hattie’s arm. Vague impressions, not quite thoughts, resisted her concentration—as if an overstuffed pillow crammed the inside of her head.

“Oh, thank God you’re awake.” Her friend’s tear-streaked face hovered above her.

Kate rolled a dry tongue against her teeth. A rancid taste filled her mouth. She shook her head as her memory cleared. A snake had bitten her. A deadly rattler.

“I must have fainted.”

“Yes, you fainted. Nothing more.” Hattie chewed her lower lip. Did her friend believe she fainted or that the poison caused her to fall? Had the venom reached her mind?

“William, help me with the plow.” G.W.’s voice sounded like a headmaster ordering students to class. Grunts and scrapes followed.

Kate lifted her head and winced against a surge of lightheadedness. The men lowered a plow from the wagon and dropped it beside four wooden crates. “What’s happening?”

“They’re unloading the wagon.” Hattie’s smile failed to reach her eyes. “G.W. and I will take you to Lawrence.”

William and Allen lowered a barrel to the ground and rolled it next to the plow.

“That’s right. I remember.” She licked her lips. “Hattie, what about your things? You can’t leave them here.”

“William and Allen will wait with our goods until we return.”

Kate’s stomach lurched, and she rolled away from her friend as strong heaves wracked her body. When they stopped, she flopped onto her back and trembled. “I’m cold.”

“Be sure you leave a blanket out to cover her.” Hattie’s call brought a grunt from G.W.

He climbed out of the wagon and marched to Hattie, who scrambled to her feet. “Sorry, Kate, we need to hurry.” G.W. bent and scooped her off the ground.

Her vision spun, so she rested her head against his scratchy wool shirt and cradled her right hand against her chest.

Allen stood next to the plow and barrel. “I hope the doctor makes you feel better soon.”

William stood beside him, his lips tight and his hat held in front of him like he mourned at a graveside.

Hattie scrambled into the wagon, and G.W. lowered Kate onto the edge of the tailgate. “Can you make it from here?”

“Yes.” Kate used her uninjured hand to crawl onto a pallet of blankets and collapsed, her head on a feather pillow. Nausea twisted her stomach.

G.W. shut the tailgate as Hattie spread a blanket over her and sat. “You rest now.”

The wagon lurched forward. Kate’s stomach tightened, but had nothing more to spill on the blankets. The wagon creaked, and its canvas cover swayed above her. G.W. hollered, and the wagon pitched, rattled, and bounced over the trail.

“Might be rough, but trotting the oxen will get us to Dr. Robinson’s sooner. You rest easy.” Hattie gazed out the back of the wagon. “I wish your family were here.”

Kate closed her eyes. If Mother were here, what would she say? Would she shake her head and pronounce her daughter a fool to emigrate?

Kate panted for breath as if she ran with the oxen. How could she think such a hurtful thing about Mother? Tears flooded her eyes. “I wish they were here too. Hattie, I’m glad you’re with me.”

How could she have been so heartless? She’d left for Kansas without saying goodbye, without hugging Mother or Father. Instead, she’d written a letter to avoid their disapproval and interference in her plan. How unworthy of their devotion to her, their only child. What must they think?

Aunt Amelia had been right. Her parents deserved more respect. As did Amelia, who had never asked for compensation while providing a home in Boston, even though Kate had lived with her for several months. Amelia had accompanied her to parties and supported her dream of working for abolition. They’d even stood together to protest the return of Anthony Burns to slavery. Why had she ignored Amelia’s advice? How could she ever repay her kindness?

A cold sweat stung her eyes, and she shivered despite the blanket. Would she ever see her family again? Had she failed in her dream to teach school and attract families to Kansas?

What about the Forbes family? The experience of tutoring their children, Richard and Phoebe, had given her the confidence to teach in Kansas. Their parents, staunch abolitionists, had funded much of the expense when she’d revealed her thoughts about emigration to Kansas. She had set out to strike a blow against slavery—her dream to improve society—but after three days in the territory, she lay dying of snakebite. She had failed the Forbes family. Her parents. Amelia.

Grandpa Williams’ white-bearded face hovered in her mind. How disappointed he must be, looking down from heaven at his only grandchild. How foolish she had been. She should have tied her bonnet. Should have recognized the sound of a rattlesnake. Should have stayed in Boston.

But if she had, what would she have said to Arthur? She enjoyed their long discussions of books, his brown eyes focused on her. He had also escorted her to a lecture on abolition. Was that only three months ago? But her friendship with Arthur had progressed far enough. She needed to focus on her goals instead of the pleasure of his company. What would he say about her failure? Why did she care?

The wagon swayed and jostled her. How long before they reached the doctor’s home? She drew quick breaths, but they seemed empty of air. She panted a prayer.

“Stay with me, Kate.” Hattie’s cool hand stroked the side of her face.

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The book is available in Kindle, paperback, and hardcover formats. An audiobook is in production.

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