Читать книгу Daughter of Shiloh - Ilene Shepard Smiddy - Страница 9

Chapter I

Autumn 1790—Holston River, Virginia

Shading her eyes with one hand, the young girl looked west toward the Appalachian foothills. Her slight frame shivered. The chill wind whipped tendrils of dark curls about her expressive face. Dusk came quickly here, on the banks of the Holston. Straining to see, she searched the narrow ribbon of roadway for any sign of her two oldest brothers. She hoped they would come soon, before the sun slipped behind the westernmost rim of the blue mountain range.

How beautiful the autumn leaves are, she thought. Their special light illuminated the towering slopes with color. The luminous glow lingered briefly, flickered and was gone. Silent shadows crept across the valley, erasing the last vestige of day. Clarinda knew that somewhere beyond those distant peaks lay a wilderness called Kentucky. She wondered how far.

Thinking back, she recalled the last time she had seen David. He had taken her to Fort Patrick Henry. There at the trading post they talked with a buckskin-clad hunter. He was unloading furs, taken during months spent on the frontier. He spoke of Kentucky in a hushed voice filled with awe.

David told him about the war, and how his company had marched to the Cherokee towns on the Tennessee River. Seeking firsthand knowledge of the region now, David had prodded the old man with questions about Kentucky. He asked his opinion on the likelihood of trouble continuing between the settlers and the Indians.

The old hunter had straightened his hunched shoulders. His words painted a vivid picture of the fertile land in the Cumberland Plateau, the finest hunting ground of the Cherokee domain. He described luxuriant grass that covered the plains, and told how deer, elk and buffalo grazed as far as the eye could see.

The hunter spoke softly, nodding his grizzled head. “There likely will be more Indian wars son. Many of our red brothers believe their Great Spirit is angry. They say long dead ancestors cry blood because the Long Knives have violated their sacred places.”

Clarinda remembered the conflicting rush of feelings his words brought. His stories, and today’s events seemed a harbinger of things to come. Her oldest sister Rebecca and her family had arrived with all their household goods piled high on a new wagon. That was strange enough, but Rebecca told her to watch for their brothers. They were coming too.

“Clarinda,” her mother called, interrupting her thoughts.

Clarinda’s mother emerged from the darkness, heading toward the back door of the cabin. Fresh milk sloshed from the heavy pails she carried.

“Ma, did Old Beauty give all that milk?”

“Yes indeed” Martha said, setting the buckets on the stone steps. “The Lord blessed us with that Jersey cow.” Pausing to catch her breath, Martha tilted her head back, scanning the dark sky. “Wind smells like snow. I was hoping not this early. Mind the door, Clarinda, and keep the dogs away.”

Holding the unwieldy door open while kicking at the yelping hounds, Clarinda helped to carry the milk pails inside. Rebecca, heavy with her fourth child, came to their aid. She was busy preparing the evening meal.

After some simple preparations, Martha placed a clean cotton cloth over each pail and strained the milk through the cloth into a large metal container. Clarinda admired her mother’s smooth efficiency. The rich, sweet smell of warm milk filled the room.

Nancy and Sarah, the middle sisters, came into the kitchen to help. They talked excitedly while carrying the bowls of steaming food to the table.

“Jake and John are in here Ma.” Nancy called out, nearly tripping over her long-legged brothers. Sarah placed lighted candles on each end of the heavy oak table.

“I wonder what keeps Jonathan and David?” Martha worried. She had heard talk that a marauding war party was terrorizing pioneer outposts along the Holston, Watauga and French Broad Rivers.

“Supper is almost ready,” Sarah answered. “I hope they come soon.”

Clarinda was surprised to see their table set with her mother’s Sunday dishes. Martha reserved her dinnerware, decorated with sprays of blue flowers and gold rims, for the important events in her family’s life.

“Is this some special day? What’s going to happen?” Clarinda asked her sisters, holding up one of the plates.

The loud barking of dogs announced the arrival of the two missing brothers. William climbed down from the loft where he had put his and Rebecca’s three children to bed. Walking past Clarinda, he playfully tousled her hair. Clarinda adored her only brother-in-law, and he her.

After amiable greetings all around, the three men took their seats beside the others. Jonathan patted Martha’s hand and took his Pa’s place at the head of the table. William set on the opposite end by Rebecca.

William B. Rice and David Allington had become friends while serving together in the colonial army. When David introduced William to Rebecca, her beauty captivated the young patriot. Although the country was in turmoil, William found time to court Rebecca. She found the woodsman, turned soldier much more exciting than the planter’s sons who came to call.

With one accord the family followed their mother’s lead, joining hands with each other in the old way. Jonathan bowed his head and asked the blessing. His voice broke. Unashamed, he did not try to hold back his tears. Each family member understood, and shared the sharp pain of their recent loss.

Martha’s eyes misted over as she guardedly observed her children. Having been a widow for so short a time, she realized how dependent she was on her sons. They would have to care for her and their sisters. Rebecca and William had their own brood to see to. Martha felt it was a lot to expect of them, and knew it would not be easy. What lay ahead may take more courage than the hardships they endured during the country’s struggle for independence.

For a time the family ate in silence, reflecting on their memories. Each was aware of the void left by Jacob’s death. The knowledge that his familiar, commanding presence would never again join this circle was hard to accept.

Clarinda’s sweet, but insistent voice broke the stillness. Fixing her blue-gray eyes intently on Martha’s face, she asked “Ma, are we all going with William and Rebecca to Kentucky?”

Earlier, Rebecca’s eight-year-old Davey had confided to Clarinda that he knew a real good secret. He had overheard his parents talking about a long trek west, while they unhitched the wagon and fed the horses. Davey’s secret pleased Clarinda, who loved to hear William’s stories about Kentucky. She childishly envisioned a beautiful new home across the mountains. A wondrous place where dreams come true.

“Nothing is settled yet, Clarinda,” Martha answered. “David and William have some news they heard in Fredericksburg last week. It seems fitting that we all hear it at the same time. I’m glad everyone is here.”

“Well,” David began, “there are lots of rumors floating down the Rappahannock and Potomac from Federal Hall in New York. Washington and the Congress have started putting together a democratic form of government. We, the citizens will have some say in how it’s run.”

“So America, is now the United States of America,” Nancy offered.

“Is General Washington king?” asked Clarinda.

The family roared with laughter. Clarinda wondered why they thought her question so funny, but was happy to see them all relax.

“No, silly,” Jacob teased his little sister. “He’s the first president of the republic, elected by the people.”

“We found out,” David said, “that some Indian headmen have signed peace treaties with our government. Their tribes have agreed to move west and south onto other land set aside for their use. Millions of acres of former Indian land will be opened up for settlement.”

“What about the Indians?” Clarinda wanted to know, her young mind confused. “Wasn’t it their land first?”

“In a way, yes that’s true. But the government is going to pay them for it, and help provide for their needs.” David had no interest in the details of the treaty.

“In Fredericksburg, William and I ran into a trader William knew in Kentucky. This man is going all over Virginia trying to encourage folks to move west and settle the frontier. He was loading up on supplies so he could get back before the Cumberland Gap becomes impassable this winter. He told us about his Kentucky settlement, and invited us to move there.

Jonathan looked over at William. “What do you know about this man?”

“His name is Ralph Morgan,” William stood, looking at each of them in turn. “He was with us at Boonesborough. He’s a trader, surveyor and land jobber, and has established his own fort called Morgan’s Station. It’s in western Kentucky on Slate Creek. I’ve been in that area. The land is good. He said he would sell us property near his station for one dollar an acre.”

“Sounds cheap enough,” Jacob said.

David stood, resting his hands on the table. There were many issues that concerned him. He tried to choose his words carefully. The family was not fully aware of the discontent brewing in Virginia.

“Ever since the framework of the Constitution was laid, and our new government created, there have been problems a plenty.” David told them. “The small states and big states disagree, and the North and South don’t get along at all. Those who own slaves, and the ones who don’t are causing a ruckus. You know the first census completed this year determines how many men each state will send to the House of Representatives. That census proved Virginia has the most people of all the states. The rich landowners will rule. My guess is a lot of unrest is going to take place, before it’s all worked out. It might be smart to move west now while things are calm.”

Jonathan sighed. Being the eldest and now responsible for the family’s welfare, he too had lots to consider. “Virginia and the other states are trying to work through the mess of debt left over from the war. Some people’s farms have been seized to pay off their debts. So far the militia is siding with the farmers. I believe times will get worse. Maybe the Kentucky frontier is our best hope Ma.”

For many citizens of the new America, gaining property remained only a dream. At least twenty percent of the population lived at poverty level or below, seeking out a precarious existence as unskilled laborers, or farming bits of land they did not own.

Jonathan tapped a finger on the table, apparently weighing their options. “Since Kentucky and Ohio are still territorial lands, we won’t be hurt by taxation for a while” he said. “It may be wild country, but there’s room to grow food and raise some livestock. John, Jacob, what do you have to say?”

“If one goes, we all go,” said John. “We have to keep the family together. That’s what Pa would want.”

“Ma, there’s nothing to keep us here,” Nancy said, siding with her brothers.

David nodded slowly. “I guess what we are trying to say, Ma, is from the way things look, we’ll likely be forced to move anyway. Why not salvage what we can and make a fresh start?”

David moved to stand behind Martha. Thinking back to the bitter fighting with the redcoats, he recalled how she had nourished them with her love as well as her strength. “We’ve been through one political struggle already. What say we all go to Kentucky?”

Martha listened to her sons. Her thoughts raced back to 1756 when she and Jacob were married. They had steadily moved westward, always seeking new land, new opportunity. Not one child had been born in the same place. Their dwellings were cabins hastily constructed of logs and mud. Often a canvas-covered wagon served as their only shelter from the elements.

Here on the Holston was the first solid home they had known. The three-room log structure had a loft and real doors and windows. She felt a permanence here. While war raged between England and the Colonies, Jacob and the younger boys put in months of hard work clearing the land. The local Indians were friendly, and the Allingtons traded them food and dry goods for furs.

When peace was declared the family settled down to a life of farming. Jacob had been a God-fearing and peaceful man. However, in the raw upheaval of the fledging new country, there was little peace. How could Kentucky be any different? Martha’s gaze fell on her beloved son-in-law, William. For years he had talked about the beauty of Kentucky’s forest and wild grassland. She decided not to hold them back. Her sons were right about their circumstances. Jacob had barely earned them a living. She realized the family divided could not survive.

Martha recalled the pain of leaving her own parents, when as a young bride she followed Jacob into the unknown. She was determined to keep the Allingtons together. They needed each other.

Clarinda was too young to understand all the talk of governments, debts and treaties, but she sensed some difficult decisions were being made.

Inwardly she burned with excitement. Kentucky called out to her senses a strange melody. Her mind created visions of wide green valleys, clear streams and thick stands of tall trees. She was sure her brothers would find them a good home there. Clarinda’s heart beat faster, thinking about their new life on the Kentucky frontier.

Rebecca had been silent until now. Knowing her child would come soon, she turned to her husband, “William, my time is near. We can’t go before our child is born. The short journey here in the wagon was hard enough. Surely you know I want to go, but we must wait yet a while.” A hint of fear made her voice tremble as she thought about the days ahead.

William wrapped his strong arm around Rebecca’s shoulders, comforting her. “Of course you’re right. We’ll need time to prepare the children for the trip. There’s plenty of work to do before we go.”

The lively discussion went on late into the evening. Plans were made to leave early in 1791, so they would be in Kentucky in time to plant spring crops. The men finally went to bed, tired out after mulling over the many and varied tasks to be performed before time to leave.

The winter of 1790 passed swiftly. Baby Benjamin was born on November 15th. That morning gray clouds hid the sun making it dark and gloomy. Snow had commenced falling during the night. Silently the flakes were mounding up on tree limbs and fence rails.

From her post by a window Clarinda tried to see the distant mountains, but their peaks were shrouded in the white mist. The men had chosen this day to hunt deer, knowing it would be easy to track them in the new snow.

No sooner were they out of sight than Rebecca cried out in pain. Martha, having assisted women on numerous such occasions, was an expert at midwifery. Recognizing the first signs of labor, she immediately put Nancy, Sarah and Clarinda to work boiling water. She would need both hot and cold basins to dip the newborn in. Calmly Martha searched the cupboard for the herbs, oil and ointment she would need. While making Rebecca as comfortable as possible, she cleansed the birth canal with folds of sterile cotton. Sarah held her sister’s head in her lap, stroking her hair and telling her when to breathe and when to give a hard push.

Nancy and Clarinda helped, following Martha’s instructions. It was their first experience with the birth of a child and they were awed by the proceedings. Fortunately Benjamin was in a considerable hurry to make his appearance. The strong, healthy boy came out bawling lustily, flailing his small arms about.

Clarinda held the newborn so that Nancy could bathe and dress him. Tenderly she wrapped baby Ben in a warm blanket and handed him over to his mother. He was already sucking on his tiny fists.

Martha removed the afterbirth and carefully cleansed Rebecca with a hot tea made from dried amaranth flowers. She told the girls of the tea’s healing properties and how it controlled bleeding.

Martha passed on her considerable knowledge in this way, hoping her daughters would remember when the time came for them to use her teachings. She explained to them that many new mothers died from childbirth fever, because they were not cared for in this way.

Clarinda took notice of every detail and filed it away in her memory. She wanted to be just like her mother, able to comfort and aid under any circumstances. Martha’s quiet manner of teaching gave Clarinda confidence. She felt that this day’s lesson was a valuable one.

Clarinda and Davey spotted the successful hunters returning and rushed to greet them with the news of Ben’s arrival. William was pleased to learn he had a new son.

Two nice bucks were soon dressed and added to the store of meat. The venison was cut into long thin strips and hung to dry in the smokehouse along with several hams that had been placed there. Salt for curing was rubbed into the meat. Clarinda and Davey were trusted to keep the hickory logs burning. The smoke served to preserve the meat, as well as give it a rich, sweet flavor.

Clarinda took on the job of shepherding the children. She dearly loved playing teacher to Rebecca’s rowdy bunch. Davey was a mischievous boy, and kept her on her toes. He chafed at having to mind his young aunt. However, his siblings, six-yearold Mary and two-year-old Will were Clarinda’s willing slaves. She invented games to help them learn the letters of the alphabet and their numbers.

Using bits of white rock from the creek bed, they traced figures and letters onto the smooth flagstones of the fireplace. These marks washed off easily, making the hearth an excellent place to hold classes.

Seeing to baby Ben’s needs while the other women sewed kept Clarinda busy. She rocked him to sleep in the cane-bottomed rocking chair her Pa had made. Sometimes she carried Ben around on her back in a papoose cradle William had bartered for, by trading some bright-colored cloth to a friendly Cherokee squaw.

Christmas came and the Allingtons celebrated the day with friends and neighbors. Martha used the blue flowered dishes with the gold rims for the last time before packing them for the move west.

In January the men readied the wagons, loading tools and implements they would need. Plows for turning the soil were valued possessions and they stored them carefully. They tied hoes, rakes and shovels to the sides of the wagon beds. Saws and axes for felling trees were put inside the wagons, along with hammers and nails for the building of barns and homes.

Martha supervised the loading of the heavy blacksmith’s anvil her Jacob had prized. His skillful mastery of the smithy’s trade had paid for food and shelter more than once.

Although some things were sold or discarded, they were taking as much as the wagons could carry. Each had a special request. Nancy and Sarah insisted on a mirror, copper washbasin and linens. Jake packed his books. John, who loved to hunt was taking his two hounds, Boone and Tiger. Jonathan told Clarinda he would tie Old Beauty to the back of one wagon. They would have fresh milk on the trail. The new calf could run free alongside her.

Clarinda learned another use for the lye soap she helped her Ma make. Martha placed the bars of soap in with the household goods. The strong, potent smell of lye repelled mice and insects. They sealed dried fruit and nuts in covered jars. Beans, corn and peas, enough to plant new crops, were among their most precious cargo.

Popcorn was a family favorite. Clarinda begged William to take some, so she could plant it herself in Kentucky. William learned he could get popcorn seed from a plantation owner in the next county. He took Clarinda along to make the purchase. The old gentleman seemed happy to oblige the young girl when she told him why she wanted the seed. Leaning on his cane, he remarked that it seemed everyone in Virginia was going to hell or Kentucky.

It would be time to plant potatoes when they reached Morgan’s place, so Jonathan prepared several bags for that purpose. He planned to carry them in a safe niche underneath the wagon’s seat.

Many nights were spent gathered around the table going over maps. The captain at the fort passed along the latest frontier news when they bought last minute supplies. The time passed quickly, and soon they were ready for the trail. William favored following the same path Daniel Boone had blazed, known as the Warrior’s Path or the Wilderness Road. This narrow trail led over the Appalachians through the Cumberland Gap, to the mouth of the Scioto River, thus southwest into Kentucky.

On one last trip to the fort, David met a man named Peter Cutright. The Cutrights were filling their wagons with goods, preparing to traverse the Wilderness Road in early spring. The two men talked, discussing their plans. They soon decided it would be beneficial if they teamed up and traveled the distance together. There would be more manpower if they ran into swollen streams difficult to cross, or encountered downed trees that had fallen on the trail during the winter storms.

They felt too, that hostile Indians were not likely to attack a large caravan. Even if they ran into snow or other bad weather, David believed it was possible to cover the three hundred or so miles in thirty days or less.