There were suspicious circumstances which tended to incriminate the Brown party; but the facts that the horses which were stolen had been run out of the country, while the Browns remained in the neighborhood, and did not have the murdered men's horses in their possession, were potent in allaying these suspicions, and gave them an opportunity to deny their guilt. But if the sensational scenes of calling for volunteers for a hostile purpose, and the sharpening of their sabres had actually occurred, they would have had no possible defense. This evidence would have connected them directly with the crime, and it would have been published immediately upon the return of the resentful Pottawatomie Rifles to their homes at Osawatomie and on the Pottawatomie. Whereas the resolutions adopted at the mass-meeting of citizens at Osawatomie May 27th, refer to "midnight assassins unknown;" and on May 31st, Mr. James H. Carruth wrote to the Watertown (New York) _Reformer_:
... It was murder nevertheless and the Free-State men here co-operate with the pro-slavery men in endeavoring to arrest the murderers.
In his statement of the facts as to the happenings on the Pottawatomie, Mr. Villard makes one sole reference to the robberies that happened. It is, that when Owen Brown had been denounced by his uncle, the Rev. Mr. Adair of Osawatomie, on the 26th, as a "vile murderer," and was refused admission to his home, that "he rode away on one of the murdered men's horses." Except for this and another incidental reference to theft, the reader of _Fifty Years After_ would not be informed that any robbery had been committed; and even this statement is artfully written. It is incorrect and misleading. It conceals a thread in this history which would, if exposed, unmask the selfishness that prompted this crime: Owen Brown rode away on one of the "fast Kentucky horses" which John Brown received _in exchange_ for the "murdered men's horses."
Mr. Villard assumes that Brown's motives for committing the murders herein, and stealing these horses, were unselfish; a grace that should logically apply to the swaggering, swearing infidels whom he directed. In a summary of his conclusions he says:[154]
Fired with indignation at the wrongs he witnessed on every hand, impelled by the Covenanter's spirit that made him so strange a figure in the nineteenth century, and believing fully that there should be an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, he killed his men in the conscientious belief that he was a faithful servant of Kansas and of the Lord. He killed not to kill, but to free; not to make wives widows and children fatherless, but to attack on its own ground the hideous institution of human slavery, against which his whole life was a protest. He pictured himself a modern crusader as much empowered to remove the unbeliever as any armoured searcher after the Grail. It was to his mind a righteous and necessary act; if he concealed his part in it and always took refuge in half-truth that his own hands were not stained, that was as near to a compromise for the sake of policy as this rigid, self-denying Roundhead ever came. Naturally a tender-hearted man, he directed a particularly shocking crime without remorse, because the men killed typified to him the slave-drivers who counted their victims by the hundreds. It was to him a necessary carrying into Africa of the war in which he firmly desired himself engaged. And always it must not be forgotten that his motives were wholly unselfish, and that his aims were none other than the freeing of a race. With his ardent, masterful temperament, he needed no counsel from a Lane or a Robinson to make him ready to strike a blow, or to tell him that the time for it had come. The smoke of burning Lawrence was more than sufficient.