The date was February 9, 1855 and it was a rather cold day. Susanna, pregnant and uncomfortable, at home with her children, enjoyed the fireplace and coziness of her home on Pisgah Ridge. It was late afternoon, about time her husband, Dr. William Nicks Anderson, usually came home. The winter sun had just about slipped out of sight below the horizon of Pisgah Ridge and the air felt pretty chilly. Son Thomas (11) and John (10) were trying to anticipate when their father would arrive, but it was too cold to stay out long. They heard a horse approach and ran out the front door. Instead of dismounting, they saw their Papa slumped over the horse's neck, clinging vainly to stay up but slowly sliding off. To horrify the sight, they saw a large splotch of blood on their Papa, his horse and saddle.

Thomas called, "Mama, mama, come quick. Papa is hurt!" Susanna emerged from the house in time to see her husband slide off and fall to the ground with a thud.

"Bill, Bill, what happened to you?" Seeing the crimson matted clothing and horse, she screamed, "Oh, my God. He's been hurt!" Stepping off the porch, she knelt at his side, and after closer examination, asked, "Have you been shot, Bill?"

Responding weakly, he murmured, "Yes, yes."

"Who did it?"

"Bill Love." He replied weakly as blood oozed from his mouth and he coughed.

In her delicate condition, Susanna was unable to get her barely conscious husband up and off the cold ground to get him into the house. She reentered and returned with a quilt. Placing it beside him, she and the children rolled him onto the quilt and the laboriously dragged him on it to the porch about twenty feet away. Together, they managed to get him up the steps and into the house to the bed.

"Go get your Uncle Alec, quick," she ordered son Thomas.

"Yessum." He ran to the stable, mounted his old mare in the familiar bareback style, and took off for Uncle Alec's house about a quarter of a mile away.

In a few minutes, Alec arrived and went quickly to his brother-in-law's side. "How bad is it sister?'

"He's taken a ball clear through him. I think it entered his back and came out his chest. He's losing a lot of blood." And Susanna began to cry almost uncontrollably for the first time. Standing by, wide-eyed, the children began to cry and cling to their mother.

"He needs a doctor, Sister. I'll go get brother Will in Town." He leaned over the barely conscious man and called, "Bill--Bill Anderson. This is Alec--can you talk?"

Anderson opened his eyes about half way and closed them quickly.

"He's semi-conscious. I'll hurry." Alec ran out the door and rode off in a gallop to town.

Susanna did everything she could think of to make her husband comfortable, and finally turned him on his side away from the wound. But the constantly bleeding wound kept her busy applying bandages and compresses. She continued to speak words of encouragement. "You are going to be all right, Bill. Just hang on a little while longer. Can I get you anything?" But for the most part, he was unconscious, reviving occasionally to speak weakly.

Late in the night, Alec returned with his physician brother, Will, and Dr. W. E. Oakes. Both recognized that Anderson was in serious condition.

They did all they knew how. Anderson continued to respond occasionally with enough energy to speak.

This story appeared in the Prairie Blade, a Corsicana newspaper, February 12, 1855:
"The following statement is from Dr. Oakes. one of the physicians who waited upon Dr. Anderson.
Dr. Anderson's affidavit states that when he had past Mr. Love and looked around, he saw him (Love) taking aim at him with his pistol, and he immediately drew his own pistol and fired without taking any aim, and that Mr. Love fired the same instant, that the reports of the pistols were close together.
I went to Dr. Anderson's in company with Dr. Dickson [Dixson] on the night of the 9th. I found Anderson lying on his right side, apparently well composed; yet very faint from loss of blood.
The ball entered him about two inches to the left of the spinal column and appeared to range upwards until it came to the scapular (blade bone) when I think it entered the cavity of the chest--passing through the left lung and coming out near the nipple. He died from internal hemorrhage.
I did not hear him say anything that night or next day before 3 o'clock respecting the cause of the shooting. I was informed in the morning by the Dr.'s family that Mr. Love shot at Anderson first, from behind him, without giving him any notice, and they requested me to state these facts to the newspaper, so they might be published.
When an affidavit was prepared by the Justice of the Peace, in accordance with that statement, and read to the Doctor, he informed them that they misunderstood him, as to who shot fist. He said that his pistol fired first; and requested me to prepare a statement for him to that effect. I prepared the affidavit precisely as he stated it.

W. E. Oakes, "One of the Attending Physicians"

Dr. Anderson died the next evening. A horrendous pall fell upon the Anderson house--like a giant black umbrella. Susanna, exhausted from the all night vigil, and nearing hysteria, became genuinely sickened and was put to bed. Some of the family members feared she would have a miscarriage. The older children were stunned to see their father die in such a bloody and painful way. Adult family members were upset that such a thing could happen to a well-meaning and devoted family man. They all looked upon the doctor with great respect and admiration. He was an unusually kind and considerate person who had a large following, including many admirers outside the family.

As the news spread in the county, feelings were mixed .... No doubt, there were those who felt justice had finally been served. On the other hand, there were friends and admirers of the good doctor ... who were fighting mad. Some theorized the confrontation resulted from a chance meeting of the two with an argument ensuing .... possibly the usual disagreement about land boundaries, culminating with the shooting.

The word was out that William Love would be arrested and face the law. Sheriff Buck Barry referred to the incident in his book, stating there was unusual excitement when Anderson died and he arrested Love, who was charged with murder .... He was taken to Esquire Carroll's court at Dresden. There Love posted $8,000 bond.

About twenty local citizens, carrying shotguns, who were opposed to the arrest of Love, made an appearance, probably in an effort to intimidate the law, but to no avail. When the trial started, about fifty armed men, of whom about thirty were from Freestone county, followed Barry nearly all the way to his brother's house, where he was to spend the night; but didn't bother him.

The shooting was reported to have occurred on the road (Road SW 0030) that runs south from Richland Crossing, at the first turn to the right. At that corner there was a large grove of trees and it is about one mile to the Anderson house up to the ridge on a side road, (Road SW 0040) called Nubbin Lane by the family.

Love was acquitted on grounds of insufficient evidence. The verdict received mixed and varied reactions, especially since the only information many had was the report Love shot him in the back. The most vocal was Susanna, who, in a moment of intense and bitter vindictiveness declared:

"Someday, this baby in my body will avenge the murder of his father."

Was Susanna serious? Read about her revenge.

As Johnny Hardin rode casually down Pisgah Ridge in Navarro County one Sunday morning, he observed three mounted soldiers following him. When he put his horse into a gallop--they did too. Looking for a place to hide [which was very uncharacteristic of him] or make a fight of it, he soon found himself near the Nash School. Turning into the woods, he quietly doubled back to the school, where he hid his horse in a thicket and slipped up to the log building. Quietly opening the door, he stepped in and every eye of the small congregation turned to see Johnny. His father, Rev. James G. Hardin, stood at the pulpit, preaching one of his best sermons.

Seeing the distress on his son's face, he asked, "What's wrong son?"

"There's soldiers followin, me."

Thinking quickly, his father looked around the building and then hurriedly took off his long "preaching" coat and handed it to Johnny. "Here, Son, put this on and give me your hat and guns."

Johnny unbuckled his gun belt and took off his hat as his father handed him his Bible and said, "Quick! Stand at the pulpit and start preaching. With that, he slid the hat and guns under the hem of a lady's full dress touching the floor sitting in the second row. Then he sat down among the friendly folks while Johnny started preaching. Johnny had heard so many of those fire and brimstone sermons by his father over the years, that it took him only a moment to get in the swing of things. As he shouted his sermon and held his Bible high, the door of the little crude log house flew open, and all eyes turned in unison to see three burly Union soldiers, pistols drawn, standing at the entrance. Without a word, they entered cautiously, looked the congregation over carefully, gave a quick glance at the "preacher" standing at the pulpit, turned and left.

His exploits became legendary - but the Texas Rangers were soon on his trail.