The Poison Wedding Supper – Sable Hunter

 

Happy Valentine’s Day! I hope your world is filled with happiness and love.

Now, the title of my piece doesn’t exactly fit the day – does it? Unfortunately, things aren’t happy everywhere. Our old world has problems and disagreements over everything you can think of – disease, inflation, possible impending war – you name it. Many people long for the good old days when freedom prevailed, our forefathers exhibited strong family values, and America was a place of prosperity and peace. Yes, I know there are periods in our history when things weren't good, but those times weren’t for everyone and they didn’t last forever. As long as there are people involved, there will be disagreements, violence, and trouble. That’s just the way of the world. To illustrate my pessimistic viewpoint, let me share with you something that happened in my neck of the woods in the mid 1800’s.

To begin my little foray into the past, let me tell you why and how this came up. One of my series is called Wild West and its set in Central Texas near the present-day town of Kingsland. The characters in this historical set of novels are ancestors of other characters in my contemporary series – and yes, I get confused. I really need somebody to keep me straight. Anyway, the Wild West books feature a group of ex-Civil War soldiers who migrated to Texas from Tennessee. While this group of books feature cowboys, I cover a wide range of topics from mail-order brides to time travel. Yes, Sable Hunter has a tendency to go nuts sometimes.

I’m about to put the newest one up for preorder and it will be called Domino’s Miracle. Domino O’Neill served as a surgeon in the 9^th Calvary. He saw some horrible things and he had to do some horrible things. All of this is fuel for nightmares for him. As I’m not one to shy away from controversial or taboo subjects, this particular tale will address impotency – not a normal trait of a romance hero. Regardless, Domino will find true love with a Mexican maiden by the name of Mireya, which means miracle – and boy does he need one. Mireya is a curandera, a folk healer who uses herbs as well as a little folk magic to doctor her patients.

Now, I won’t go into all of the plot points, but Mireya will join with Domino to help the people of the frontier town. One of the opportunities will be an accidental poisoning that some folks are ready to lynch others over. I haven’t got all the details worked out yet, but I can tell you what my inspiration for this particular plot point was – something that really happened in the 1840’s in the area where I was raised. I’d heard about it years before, but I’d forgotten most of the details. When I stumbled across it again and really began researching the event, I was shocked to learn that I knew descendants of almost everyone involved. These folks were classmates, teachers, the local doctor, and even the farrier who used to shoe my horses. To their credit, they were all getting along fairly well at this point in history. Not so much in the past.

Let me take you back to a lawless time in Texas. While my book is set after the Civil War, this particular historical incident took place in the 1840’s at the end of what was called the Moderator-Regulator war. In my viewpoint, this stain on our past was basically just a feud that got out of hand. It started over stolen horses and didn’t end until Sam Houston himself brought both parties together in San Augustine, Texas and sat them down for a serious talk where he addressed them as a stern father to rowdy boys. There were also other feuds in this same timeframe and later, such as the Conner-Smith debacle in Sabine County which flamed up over a disagreement on who was going to play fiddle at a dance. Both of these ‘wars’ lasted years, killed dozens and what they fought over ranged from land disputes to someone killing their neighbor's hogs. Nowadays, we just feud over who has got their shots and whether or not they wear a mask. None of it, in my opinion, is worth fighting over. What is worth fighting for? Well, that’s debatable but it should be something bigger than masks or hogs. Maybe extraterrestrials? Like President Ronald Reagan said in a 1987 speech before the UN – and I quote verbatim: “Perhaps we need some outside universal threat to make us recognize this common bond. I occasionally think how quickly our differences worldwide would vanish if we were facing an alien threat from outside this world.”  Ha! Reagan was right, it will take something of this magnitude to bring us to our senses.     

Look at that, I managed to work ufo’s into my cowboy post – now that takes talent.  

I digress, let me get back on topic. In April of 1847, as the Regulator-Moderator War was coming to an end in deep East Texas, one of the perpetrators decided to get in one more blow for his side. This travesty occurred at the wedding of an orphan girl raised by a Mr. Wilkinson who lived in a small community on the banks of the Sabine River called East Hamilton. Now, this area is a historically wild and dangerous place called No-Man’s land. Being from this area perhaps explains my tendency to push the envelope – ha! The land bordering both sides of the Sabine River drew outlaws, pirates, and rapscallions of all makes and models. I think the reason is the wildness of the wilderness – swamps, dense pine forests, and canebreak thickets full of alligators and cottonmouth water moccasins as big around as your leg. This same area is still fairly inhospitable to someone not familiar with the terrain. I’ll never forget the newsman Dan Rather’s comment as the world learned that the space shuttle Columbia had crashed and fallen into this same geographical location in 2003 – bits and pieces were scattered from the historical town of Nacogdoches over a hundred miles through the swampy pine forests of East Texas and West Louisiana – no man’s land. He’d sadly laughed at the government’s assurance that they would get right in there and find all of the debris and recover the bodies in a timely manner. Rather’s response to this claim was one of experience – he was a native of East Texas. He said that this recovery process wouldn’t be a fast one for the shuttle had gone down behind ‘the pine tree curtain’, a take-off from the common description of the impenetrable Soviet Union’s ‘iron curtain’. He was right, they searched for literally months before the majority of the craft and its crew were recovered.

I digress again, my apologies. Anyway, Mr. Wilkerson, decided to use what should’ve been a happy occasion for ill purposes. A wedding supper was a common enough occurrence in those days – a good reason to party. So, all up and down the Sabine River the news rang out – “Old man Wilkinson’s daughter is finally getting married!” The groom wasn’t considered much of a catch, but most thought he would fit right in with his new outlaws, I mean in-laws. My play on words is warranted since old man Wilkinson was considered to be a notorious hog thief.

The fairly common knowledge of Wilkinson’s transgressions did little to dampen the communities hunger for a shindig. All over the territory women were pulling their party dresses from the bottom of trunks and polishing up their dancing shoes. Excitement filled the air. It was documented by one person that the groom asked to postpone the occasion until June, but Mr. Wilkinson nixed his request. Better to get the knot tied before the groom could set off for greener pastures.

For a small backwoods community, Mr. Wilkinson went all out. He hired a neighbor lady, Mrs. Eden to bake several wedding cakes. On the day before the celebration, she carted them to the smokehouse for safekeeping. However, the next morning when she went to see how they’d faired through the night, she noticed the custard icing was gone from all but one. The remaining cakes were dark and discolored. Since there was no time to bake more, she sprinkled the off-colored cakes with sugar to cover up the problem.

As far as the guests to the feasts were concerned, most were amazed that Wilkinson, a Moderator, had extended the hand of friendship to neighbors with whom he previously disagreed. The greatest surprise was the invitation to Spotswood Sanders and his clan. There was a great deal of bad blood between Wilkinson and the Sanders who were staunch Regulators.  Initially, the Sanders agreed to come, but they changed their mind at the last minute. When Wilkinson learned they’d sent their regrets, he made the grand gesture of having a portion of the meal packed up and sent over to the Sanders – half a shoat, a turkey, three chickens, a pot pie, and a couple of butter pound cakes – at least a week’s worth of food for the family and their slaves.

Meanwhile, back at the Wilkinson’s, the party was going full swing – that is until people began to drop dead. A few, who’d been told to refrain from the food, survived. Mrs. Eden, who made the cakes, was among those who died. Also – over at the Sanders there were several casualties, including Mrs. Sanders, two of her children, and several servants. Later, the verdict would be that the food was laced with arsenic. Many birds and wildlife died from eating the leftovers after it was thrown out for disposal.

       There is much debate over exactly how many passed away due to this horrendous act. Seventy to eighty folks were poisoned, and some say seventeen died and others say as many as thirty-two. There wasn’t much debate as to who was responsible since none of the Wilkinson family were injured. Obviously, they’d been very picky about what they consumed.

Neighbors who didn’t attend reported hearing screams, the sound of cow horns being blown, (which was a common distress signal in those days) and the howling of hounds disturbed by the noise.

The Telegraph and Register, a prominent Houston newspaper of the time, reported that Wilkinson confessed to the poisonings. He and his wife were arrested but were later released when brought before a magistrate. Knowing there were many who wanted him dead, Wilkinson fled in the middle of the night aided by his new son-in-law. Eight men rode off in hot pursuit of him with the full intent of killing the old man on sight. In a further account printed in the Telegraph and Register it was reported that Wilkinson was captured and hung on the spot. Before he died, he confessed to the killings and said he’d instructed his family and certain people to avoid the cakes which he’d laced with arsenic. His reason for the poisoning was to destroy as many Regulators as possible.

While I’m not using the facts of this case verbatim, I have let this tragic event inspire part of my story. You know, it’s really sad what people can do to one another.

In light of such events, let us strive to be more tolerant one toward the other. We don’t have to agree on everything to be agreeable.

Stay safe and well.

Sable Hunter

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