One tough woman risked it all for her family

I was recently handed an excerpt from a presentation that was given before the Independence Chamber of Commerce on Aug. 17, 1977, by Alberta Wilson Constant. It had to do with my own heritage. Alberta was relating a story told to her by my Aunt Julia Noland Watt about her grandmother, Harriet Noland. Harriet lived on a farm east of Independence with her husband, Francis Asbury Noland, and their five children during the Civil War, particularly that terrible part known as Order No. 11 that vacated the county.

 I will not try to sketch the background of that appalling federal order that dispossessed hundreds of farm families living in Jackson, Cass, Bates and Vernon counties along the Missouri-Kansas border. But, families were forced out onto the roads with no place to go and no refuge. In a mere two weeks, western Missouri was desolated. Six hundred people were left in Cass County out of a population of 10,000.

 Homes were burnt and men were shot down in the very act of obeying the order.

 On Aug. 3, 1863, word came to Harriet Noland’s family that they would have to vacate and leave the county. By that period of the war, most of the farm animals, especially horses, had been taken, bought, or stolen and ridden into battle, never to return again. The Noland family was left with only one rickety wagon and broken down team and by some good fortune, Harriet had also managed to hang on to her own personal riding horse and her side-saddle.

 Harriet packed what she could in that wagon, which probably consisted mostly of food, along with bedding and some clean clothes. Valuables were left behind, stashed in grain sacks and buried out of plain sight.

 The four older children were loaded into the wagon and Harriet rode side-saddle, holding the 4-month-old baby in her arms.

 Everyone who writes about those days mention the terrible sweltering heat and dust on the roads. The dust was churned up by the wagons fleeing the order, and by the hordes of Kansas Jayhawkers, Red Legs and Union troops. It was dangerous to be on the roads; it was dangerous just to be in Jackson County that August.

 The family started east along Spring Branch Road, but somewhere near Lake City she called for the wagon to stop. Harriet had been watching the baby closely and he was not doing well. She had raised four children and she knew the signs.

 The baby had been sickly before they started and now the heat and dust were just too much for him to endure; she was certain he was going to die. If he died, she would not have him buried outside Jackson County, the soil of his birth.

 Harriet stayed behind with the baby in a grove of trees while the family moved on down the road. It would be the longest and hottest day of her life as she waited for what lay ahead. Along about dusk however, a cool breeze whipped up and the baby improved and began to cry. She figured a crying baby has a chance to live and climbed back on her side-saddle. She hurried and caught up with her family just as they were about to take the ferry across the river.

 The baby did live, and 71-years later he was indeed buried in Jackson County soil. I have to commend this stubborn and courageous woman, for without her determination I would not be here myself. The baby, Oscar Lee Noland, was my mother’s grandfather, and my great-grandfather.

 Reference: Excerpt from a talk, “People from the Pages of the Past”, by Alberta Wilson Constant.

 The Civil War Roundtable of Western Missouri will tour the Abraham Lincoln and the Civil War exhibit at the Truman Library and Museum at 7 p.m. Thursday.

 To reach Ted W. Stillwell, send e-mails to teddystillwell@yahoo.com or call him at 816-252-9909.