Two weeks went by. The first storm came and a second one, then a third. But The Spiritists held their ground. Finally the judge called the sheriff to his office. "I'm asking for The National Guard," he announced. "I want you to continue your efforts on one end of the trail, the state police on the other. Meanwhile, The National Guard will spread barbed wire on both sides of the trail and position troops night and day to keep the trail from being reoccupied. From now on you are to take the tents as fast as they are emptied, so they can't be reoccupied. I don't care how far away the prisoners have to be shipped. That trail is to be opened!" The sheriff stood for a moment then shook his head. "If we're bringing in the National Guard," he insisted, "I spread my deputies among them, along the trail, on one side, the state police on the other. This is purely to be a civil authority operation. The National Guard troops may assist, but only under the control of my deputies and the state police. They may carry their weapons and tear gas, but no live ammunition."
The judge looked at the sheriff very irritated, but finally nodded. Monday morning they rolled out the wire and began to clear the trail all along it. They had just about the middle section cleared when more demonstrators appeared, carrying tents and bridges to cross the wire. As the sheriff was walking down the line he noticed a familiar face. Coming up to The National Guard commander he remarked "I didn't know Donald West was in your unit!"
The commander looked at him, bewildered. "He's not!" he answered. "He can't be in The National Guard, he's got a rap sheet longer than my arm!" The sheriff spun around. The demonstrators were approaching the Guardsmen, some of them pinning them off, boxing them in, making passages so their comrades could reach the wire. Donald West drew a pistol as a group approached him. "Get back!" he screamed, "Get back! You're not blocking our trail any more! Get back!"
The demonstrators kept coming. Suddenly Donald started firing. The startled demonstrators began to duck for cover but he even started firing at those laying on the ground, screaming "Move, you bastards! Get back! Get back!" He emptied the clip and began to reload as the sheriff finally got in range. "Donald!" he screamed, "put down the gun! Put it down, NOW!"
"They're staying off our trail!" Donald screamed, "They're STAYING OFF! They're NOT getting back on it AGAIN!" Some of The Spiritists began to come forward trying to reach their wounded comrades. Donald raised his weapon. The sheriff fired. Donald jerked, looked at him bewildered, and turned the weapon towards him. The sheriff fired again. Donald staggered back suddenly. A National Guardsman came up behind him and drove his bayonet through his back. "Your damned vest won't stop THAT!" the guardsman screamed, jerking the weapon free.
Donald turned, looked at him, then his knees buckled and his face drove into the snow. The guardsman trembled, then threw down his rifle, and began to sob. The sheriff came over and patted his shoulder. "You had to stop him!" he comforted, "You had to stop him. Ambulances!" the sheriff screamed, "Ambulances! Get the god damned ambulances up here! These people need help! Leave the dead where they are until the coroner gets here, but get those that are alive OUT of here!" A woman nearby was holding a child and screaming "My baby! My baby!"
The sheriff walked over. There was a hole in the child's neck he could have put his thumb in. Blood was everywhere. "Put her down, ma'am," the sheriff pleaded, "put her down. There's nothing that can be done. I know it's hard, but put her down. Are you hurt?" The woman laid her child in the snow. "No," she answered, "no, it's all her blood. It's all hers. It just poured out, I couldn't stop it."
"Come on," the sheriff pleaded, "there's plenty of people to watch her. Go with this officer. Get cleaned up. Give him your statement. Oh my God! How many rounds did he fire?"
"He emptied the clip," the National Guard commander answered, "fifteen rounds, and every one of 'em hit somebody. Some of them wounded two or three people. I'd say we've got about twenty-one wounded, I think eight dead counting the baby. Oh my God! Oh, my holy God! They were going strictly by the rules. They hadn't hurt anybody. They hadn't hurt a soul! They'd done nothing to be killed for, to be murdered for. Oh, my God!" He began to sob, walked over and leaned against the truck. The sheriff felt it too.
It ended up being eleven dead...three more died before they got to the hopsital. The rest would live. There were no more arrests THAT day. The sheriff hoped no more would be ordered, but he received a note from the judge the next morning that nothing had changed. The incident was tragic but the trail was to be cleared.
The next morning they gathered. The protestors had reoccupied the trail. They were just about to begin when they heard singing. Up the road came almost every woman in town. Allison Dinsmore lead them, her daughter and her son marched with her. Joy West, her face covered in a dark veil marched beside them. They were singing The Spiritist hymn "We Will Stand Together 'Til It's Done." They walked right through the deputies who did not hinder them and came up to the Guardsmen at the wire.