A Country Divided : Through Blood United

The Beginning: Pottawatomie Murders

"Hey, you're almost as heavy as the rifle," Oliver joked through my series of angry squeals.

"That's why it's hard for me to carry the stupid rifle, you dunce!" I shouted while kicking and flailing my arms on Oliver's shoulders.

He began to stumble on his feet, obviously on purpose, and he shook me on his shoulder. I tried to hug his back so I wouldn't fall off of his broad shoulder, and I screamed in fear.

"Oh no!" Oliver shouted, pretending to mimic me. "This rifle is too heavy!"

He dramatically placed his hand on his forehead. "Woe is me! Feel sympathy for me!"

I pouted angrily and rolled my eyes. "Hey, I don't talk like that! I just said that the rifle's heavy!"

Oliver ignored me. "Feel an ounce of sympathy in your heart for me! I don't think I could hold this super heavy rifle for much longer!"

"Don't you dare drop me!" I shouted.

He chuckled, and I remained pouting and I pursed my lips in frustration, trying my best to not let out a laugh.

"You know it makes you laugh," Oliver said through a giggle. "You're so dramatic, Evvie."

Suddenly, one of the men who volunteered to take part in the mission opened the door to my room, where Oliver was spinning around with me still on his shoulder. I could make out the man's bright blue eyes, and I predicted that the man at the door was Oliver's brother.

"Hey, can you two quiet down-" the man paused once he saw the scene before him.

Oliver and I awkwardly glanced at each other and then at his brother in the doorway.

"Should I come in later, or-" the man stammered, his face blushing from the awkwardness.

Oliver quickly set me back down onto the floor, our faces also cherry red from embarrassment.

"No, no," Oliver finally replied. "I was just- oh, nevermind, Jason."

"Okay," Oliver's brother, Jason, said as he leaned further into the hallway. "Dad just sent me up here to tell you to hurry, we're about to leave and start part one of the mission."

Jason quickly left the room, and Oliver and I just stood there, the stiff silence hanging above us like clothes on a clothesline.

Out of nowhere, Oliver and I suddenly burst into a large fit of laughter. For a few minutes, we just had a good laugh. Whenever the laughter would finally die down, we would look into each other's eyes which sparked another wave of obnoxious laughter.

When our laughter finally drew to a close, Oliver was the first to speak.

"Ready to go?" Oliver said, reminding me of why we were at his dad's house in the first place.

The mood in the room suddenly shifted from a happy one into a sad and scared one, and our smiles quickly faded away.

I cleared my throat and threw my rifle over my shoulder with zero effort. "Yeah, I'm ready.

***

The cool night breeze blew against my face, my cheeks growing numb from the cold. The fact that our little group was running toward the small village near Pottawatomie Creek kept me warm. With the soft moonlight peeking through the thick forest of trees, I could make out everyone's faces, especially Oliver's and his father's.

With my rifle in hand, more like shoulder, I ran at Oliver's side. Every minute or so, he'd glance down at me to make sure that I wasn't exhausted.

After what seemed like hours of running, our group finally reached the small village.

"Is this it?" I asked Mr. Brown cautiously, still panting from the run.

John nodded. "Yep, it's full of slavery supporters. And it's all secluded, too, so it's a better target."

A sharp chill ran down my spine when John Brown called the village a target rather than a village, even though I knew that we were going to take the lives of a few slavery supporters tonight. It must be done.

Our group came up to the first house, a small candle lit in the window,

"It's an anti-slavery house," I whispered. "And one that works with the Underground Railroad, too."

We then made our way to the second house. A party was occurring inside, the bright lights and loud cheers giving the idea away.

John knocked on the door, and he then comfortably leaned on his old rifle. The rest of us stood behind him, holding the rifles of our own in our hands.

A small woman opened the door and gasped once she noticed that we were armed.

"W-what do you need here at this late of the hour?" She asked, her voice shaky with fear.

"Bring out all the men," John ordered in his burly, low voice. He pointed past the woman and at the three men in the living room who were dancing and drinking.

She nodded and turned around. She called for the men to come outside, and they obeyed. The men stumbled outside in a drunken stupor, their clothes matted and loose from dancing too much.

"Evangeline," John whispered in my ear. "You and Oliver take the third one. The rest of us will handle the other two."

I nodded and beckoned for Oliver to follow me to the third man. The man tiredly stood, his bowl cut parted down the middle, making him look like an idiot. One of his suspenders was hanging down, and his shirt hung off of one shoulder. He had been drinking.

"What's your name, son?" Oliver asked in a rushed tone.

"Jenkin," The man replied, his voice showing his exhaustion.

Oliver stroked in chin in thought. "Strange name."

I stepped in front of Oliver before he could stall any longer. "Are you fond of slavery or not?"

"Where's this blubber coming from?" Jenkin shouted, his words slurring. He threw his arm in the air in confusion.

"Just answer me," I replied rather calmly.

Jenkin heaved, trying to inhale. "Pro-slavery. What 'choo gonna do about dat?"

I sighed, remembering how that pro-slavery police officer killed Jewel, who was my best friend. I would never be able to see her beautiful face again, and the murderer had to face the consequences of killing my best friend.

I pointed the rifle to his face, and he cowered in surprise and fear I tensed my hand around the rifle angrily. "Jenkin, I'm going to do this."

With sweaty, numb hands, I pulled the trigger on the rifle, the gunshot ringing in the air. The bullet penetrated Jenkin's chest, and he fell backward. A small hole formed in his chest and blood quickly began to ooze out of the wound.

I exhaled as the sudden adrenalin began to pour out of my body, my muscles relaxing.

Oliver soon noticed that Jenkin was still breathing.

He walked over to Jenkin, who was bleeding out, blood quickly pooling around his body. "Here, let's end this guy's misery."

Oliver slammed the butt of his rifle into Jenkin's temple, instantly killing him. I gasped in shock since I've never seen this side of Oliver. He's usually so calm and laid-back, I never knew that he had a "John Brown" side to him. He was John Brown's son, after all.

"The deed is all done," Oliver finally said, panting from the sudden burst of energy.