Читать книгу Memory's Storehouse Unlocked, True Stories. Pioneer Days In Wetmore and Northeast Kansas онлайн
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The Locknanes had a fine home, neatly, though not lavishly furnished—and a “hired girl”; a Cadillac car, and a colored chauffeur.
Along with all her gayety, Donna did a little sound thinking. She whispered. “How can they beford all this, Aunt Myrtle?”
RED RIFLEMEN
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Published in Wetmore Spectator,
Feb. 7, 1936—and in
Seneca Courier-Tribune’s Historical Edition.
By John T. Bristow
It was early autumn far back in the pioneer days. The wood which this story opens was one of the largest stands big trees in Northeast Kansas. It was bordered on the high slopes with sumac, hazelbrush, and tall grass. The trees had not yet fully shed their leaves.
An Indian, blanketed, with a long rifle swung across withers of his buckskin pony, detached himself from the band of rovers and rode straight to the place where my father and I stood, under a great oak tree, frozen to the spot. A foreboding stillness pervaded the oak grove. I was terribly frightened. Somehow the idea had formed in my young head that the Indians would not kill children; that they carried them off alive, along with the scalps of adult whites.