Braddock's Gold

by Jay Heavner

  Many men had died on this spot. Washington sat on his horse quietly with his head down. The reins of his horse were loose in his hand. The horse ate from the grasses in the meadow. Washington seemed to be in prayer. After a few minutes, he tightened the reins and jerked them to the side. The horse turned, and the horse and rider trotted off toward the officers' tents.

  The next day, John heard through army grapevine, that Colonel Washington was sick again. The troops continued ever on toward the French stronghold at the forks of the Ohio. The way west wore on the men, horses, and wagons. Progress was slow, too slow to suit General Braddock. This could threaten the second leg of the plan for the attack on French forces on the St. Laurence River and Canada. The season for the war campaign was shrinking. If something wasn't done, winter would come, and the army would have to take winter quarters without completing the campaign. On June 19, General Braddock called a war council with all his officers. What should they do to speed up the operation? Many suggestions were made. Colonel Washington proposed a "flying column." The main fighting force of 1300 soldiers would surge on the forks. Colonel Dunbar would bring the slow-moving wagons loaded with supplies and sick men along later. Six hundred men would stay behind to guard and move the wagons and supplies. All agreed to this plan.

  That day as the army rested, Colonel Peter Halkett rode through the camp, looking for three men for a particular task. The men were ordered to line up in formation. Colonel Halkett rode alone beside the column and stopped next to John and Caleb's row. This row had only three men, not the standard four. The fourth man had gone to the sick-wagon to see the doctor. The third man's name was Robert Matthews. He kept to himself. Few people knew much about him. "You men," said Colonel Halkett as he pointed to the three, "Come with me."

  The colonel led them back to the supplies. There four heavily laden horses awaited them. All the horses had poles strapped to their sides with a sling behind. The pole ends dragged the ground. The first two slings had a six-inch cannon, commonly known as a six-pounder, because of the 6-pound shot it used on each. The second set had two wooden boxes lashed to the poles and sling.

  “Each of you,” the Colonel said, “is to lead a horse with his left hand and follow me. Carry your gun in your right hand.” The Colonel took the reins of the first horse. The three soldiers each went to a horse and did the same.

  "Forward," the colonel said, and the men, horses, and their burdens began to move. They followed the new cut road for about 200 feet and then turned right. The horses and men soon were walking in a small stream. The rocks were slippery. They moved carefully and deliberately. Quickly they were in a deep ravine. It snaked back and forth blindly. After about a thousand feet of this, the gorge opened up. The men could hear the rapids of the Youghiogheny River but could not see them.

  “Stop,” the Colonel commanded. “Tie the horses.”

  The men were then ordered to dig a large hole eight feet deep near a walnut tree. A nearby spring flowed into the stream. The men took shovels and picks that were in a long muslin sack next to one cannon and began to dig. Progress was slow. The virgin Pennsylvania earth was hard, full of rocks and tree roots. The Colonel watched from his horse. The three men dug for one-half hour and made created a hard-fought hole was about 4 feet deep. The Colonel got down from his horse, walked to the hole, and looked down at the men. He took his coat off and said to them, "Gentlemen, this never happened."

  He took the pick from one man, told all three to rest and jumped in the hole, and began to dig. The soldiers were shocked. This could not be happening. Officers in the British army did not do this. The Colonel noted the men's dismayed looks. He said, "Gentlemen, someday in the future, my hope is the British military system will be more just. A soldier should be able to rise to be an officer if he had the ability. An officer should not have to be a nobleman or buy his position." The soldiers stood open-jawed. "Until that day comes," he said, "until that day comes..., well, we've got a hole to dig."

  “Yes sir,” The soldiers said in unison.

  “Not yes sir,” the Colonel said, “Mr. Halkett.”

  “Yes sir,” the soldiers said again.

  Colonel Halkett smiled. The British military system had burned in the men's heads how they were to address the officers. There was no further point trying to change it. The four men continued digging, two in the ever-deepening hole and two shoveling the dirt out of the way. The two outside had some time to rest. When the two in the pit got tired, they switched out with the other two.

  The hole reached the required depth, eight feet. They manhandled one cannon, then another into the hole, breech down, open end up. The cannons were about 6 feet long. They then filled the hole with dirt until only one foot of the muzzle end stuck out. The Colonel led one horse with the box on the sling up to the hole. The box has a lock on it. He opened it with a key. Inside were many small cloth sacks. “Men,” he said, “take everything out and place it in the cannons.”

  The men did as told. John noted the little sacks were heavy, very heavy for their small size. Like a bolt of lightning streaks across the sky, it came to him. They were burying the payroll for the troops. They were told at Fort Cumberland they would not get paid until after the campaign ended. The men grumbled about this turn of events, but what could they do? General Braddock must have reasoned that this would discourage the men from deserting. Those that died from disease or battle wouldn't have to receive payment. It would save the King money. Perhaps the General would keep some of the savings.

  On the other hand, what would the soldiers have done with the money in the wilderness? There was no place to spend their pay. Even the Indian women that caused so much trouble at Fort Cumberland with their "favors" to the troops wanted payment in trinkets and goods for their "services." The soldiers would have to grumble and live with the unpopular decision. What else could they do?

  The men emptied the box. All the heavy little bags dropped down the barrel of the cannon. One box filled one cannon nearly to the top. The second box was emptied into the other upturned cannon. Colonel Halkett pulled two round plugs, probably oak or some other hard native tree, from a sack his horse carried and drove them into the end of the cannons with the metal side of the pick. The four men filled in the hole with the remaining dirt. They tamped it down then covered the fresh dug earth with rocks and leaves. The men looked at the spot. Their work was finished.

  “Tell no one of what happened here today,” commanded Colonel Halkett.

  “Yes sir, “all the men replied.

  John wondered to himself if he meant the candidness of the Colonel or the burial or both. He looked at the other two soldiers. Did they know what had been done here today? How could they not know? But it was possible to miss the obvious, to not see the forest for all those trees.

  “Soldiers,” Colonel Halkett said to the men, “if you know how to ride, get on the horses, and let’s travel.”

  John and the other two mounted the horses clumsily. The Colonel smiled at this. “I see you are experts at horsemanship,” he said and laughed. “You’re safe. The horses are gentle and will follow my horse. When we get back out of this ravine, you will dismount and walk the last leg leading the horse back to camp. Understood?”

  “Yes sir,” the soldier responded as one.

  “And tell no one of what occurred here today, understood?”

  Again the men replied, “Yes sir.”

  Before long, they were back at camp. They returned the horses to the makeshift corral. It had been an exciting day, but John would mention the events of the day to no one, not even his friend Caleb. Tomorrow would be another day. What would it hold? How would the events of today affect his life if at all? Time would tell. Now it was time for some supper, and afterward, some sleep. Time would tell. Tomorrow would be another day. It would probably be another day of marching till he was ready to drop, but you never know. Time would tell.

  Chapter 24

  Colonel George Washington accessed the retreating troo
ps and supplies. Most of the officers were dead. He alone was unharmed even though two horses had been shot out from under him, and his clothes had numerous bullet holes. General Braddock spoke little in his last days. Washington stayed at his side until he passed.

  "Who would have thought?" the General murmured. "We shall better know how to deal with them next time." After this lament, the General breathed his last.

  Out of Washington's three companies of Virginia troops, only thirty men were still alive. With these men, the Colonel guarded the retreating British army. He was disgusted with Colonel Dunbar, the now ranking British officer. Even though they still had more than 1600 men and many supplies, Dunbar had chosen to run like a deer chased by wolves back to Fort Cumberland. They had enough of everything needed to return and counter-attack, but the coward Dunbar had burned all the supplies along the new road. The only good thing to come from this was now they had an overabundance of wagons to carry the wounded.

  The retreat went rapidly back to Fort Cumberland with next to no pursuit. Washington heard of only a few incidents. He reasoned the Indians were too busy celebrating. They would return to their villages with their spoils, scalps, and trinkets. Soon, there would be trouble. Colonel Dunbar decided to seek winters quarters in Philadelphia, and it was only July! How would they defend the frontier against the Indians? The new road was now another burden. It led straight to the unprotected colonies of Pennsylvania, Maryland, and Virginia. All three of their Governors had pleaded with the coward, but on August 2, Dunbar left taking both British and Colonial forces with him.

  Within days, the French and Indians began their raids. Fear came with the dawn, the time they struck killing, burning, destroying, and scalping. Terror spread in every direction. The British forgot this part of their colonies. British troops, seen as saviors, were now scorned and despised. The colonies must fend for themselves. Hundreds of settlers died horribly on lonely backwoods farms. Within sight of Fort Cumberland, Indians abducted a woman named Jane Fraser and carried her to Ohio. Eighteen months later, after escaping her captors, she found her way back. Her husband thought she was dead and had remarried. This scene happened many times on the frontier during these horrible times.

  By the spring of 1756, the colonies began to take action though it was painfully slow. Governor Dinwiddie ordered Colonial Washington to oversee a chain of forts to protect the settlers, and Pennsylvania followed a similar course. Men built fort up the Patterson Creek Valley. Many more were constructed for protection on the South Branch and Cacapon Valley. Many settlers formed their own defense. Any cabin, mill, tavern, or kind of building could become a makeshift fort in time of danger. Any backwoods farmer could become an Indian fighter and did. One group of men worked the fields, while another group covered them and looked for Indians.

  During attacks, all fought. The women and children reloaded and primed the guns as needed. They often took over the men's position at the firing slot if he was killed or wounded. They also tended the wounded. Anything could be a weapon, and ax or pick, even a kettle of boiling water would do. The Indians would rarely attack a well-prepared fort. Still, they were too far apart and often too thinly manned. Long stretches between them went unpatrolled. Many died. In the lower Patterson Creek area alone, Indians murdered three whole families. There was just too much area, too few volunteers, too little clothing, food, arms, or money. Fortunately for the settlers, the following winter was severe, and the Indian threat diminished for a season.

  In the year of 1757, things began to change. The frontiersman's defenses had stiffened. The Virginians were able to make raids on the Indians. The hunters sometimes became the hunted.

  Early that year, Colonel George Washington made his rounds to inspect the forts along Patterson Creek and later those along the South Branch drainage. Fort Sellers near the mouth of Patterson Creek, he found understaffed, but in order. He passed numerous burned-out homes and barns as he rode to the next fort, Frankfort. It was in order, but he had to reprimand his old friend, Captain Ashby, who commanded there. It seemed his wife had been causing some unspecified but disagreeable trouble. This had to stop, or the Colonel would replace the captain. While at the fort, Colonel Washington had a surprise. He chanced to meet two men he knew. One was Daniel Morgan, who Washington greeted warmly. Morgan had a bandaged face from a bullet wound he had received in an encounter with Indians near the Cacapon River. He would carry a scar as a reminder until his dying day.

  The second man Washington called aside out of hearing of the other troops. "I know who you are," he said to the startled man.

  "You're John De Fayre. You should be with the British army, not here in this frontier stockade. Even with the beard and frontier clothing, I still know you. I never forget the eyes. They never change.

  The man sunk back. The Colonel knew he was a deserter from the British army. The Colonel added, "Any friend of Lightfoot is a friend of mine. And I need good fighting men here. I've heard nothing but good reports about you, Mister Phares. Dunbar and his cowards ran, but you chose to stay here with us and fight. Thank you, and keep up the good work."

  From then on, John knew the secret of his past was safe. John, Lightfoot, and Roger remained at the fort throughout the next two years.

  Colonel Washington and his Virginia troops in 1758 would join British General Forbes at Raytown, today known as Bedford, Pennsylvania. From there, six thousand troops would head to Fort Duquesne and finally run the French forever from the Ohio River Valley. George Washington would again narrowly escape death in the thick fog along Loyalhanna Creek, this time from friendly fire. He commented later he was never more scared in his life than that day. General Forbes would die soon afterward from a chronic illness. After the defeat of the French at various battles on the frontier, the Indians drifted back to the west. Peace came for a while, but some Indians still had hate in their heart, and scores to settle. From his shelter above the Monongahela River, Black Wolf could think of only one thing, revenge. Lightfoot must die.

  Chapter 25

  In the year of 1759, Black Wolf and two other warriors traveled the hills and valleys of western Pennsylvania, Maryland, and the area that today is West Virginia. They were all that remained of his band of marauders. The other warriors in his once-proud group died during the war with the British and colonial forces. Few perished in the great battles. One by one, they were picked off. The majority were lost while in the Patterson Creek Valley area. And he believed this to be the work of one man, Lightfoot. His first braves died many moons ago. His men had been hunting near the blockhouse of Thomas Cresap not too far from the Potomac River. He remembered the tall, gangly red-haired youth he had seen there, young George Washington. He had tried to kill him several times over the years.

  The first time was at Fort Necessity. The second was when he was with Braddock. How his many bullets missed, he did not know. The third time was on the trail from Fort Cumberland to Fort Ashby. Washington slipped like a ghost through their fingers that foggy morning. The Great Spirit must have His hand of protection on him. Black Wolf tried to kill Lightfoot with several shots at the battle where Braddock died, but Lightfoot wounded him there with a shot that pierced his side. He wanted to wash his hands in Lightfoot's blood, and soon he would.

  For the most part, the three Indians kept a low profile. When they did contact the white eyes, they were peaceful. They sought only what they needed from the pale faces to survive and get them closer to their goal. They had a score to settle. They wanted to kill Lightfoot. Black Wolf hated him and had a plan for his death. How he longed for that day of sweet revenge. The men had scouted the Frankfort settlement with the fort commanded by Ashby. Black Wolf had a devious plan. It burned in his belly, and he longed to fulfill it. It would give him great satisfaction.

  The settlers had lowered their guard. The Indians had been driven west of the Ohio and were seeking peace, most but not all. The trio watched patiently but anxiously the morning when Lightfoot and Roger left the cabin to go hunting
. They watched as Lightfoot kissed his wife and two-year-old son goodbye. Roger gave his sister and nephew big hugs before they left. The Indians only waited about five minutes before they struck kicking the homestead door in and entered. Beka went for a gun, but it was too late. A tomahawk to her head by Black Wolf ended her life quickly. That was part of the plan. Black Wolf grabbed the little boy, and the two other Indians set fire to the house. They dragged the dead woman outside. Then the trio went west toward the reedy field along where Patterson Creek and Turners Run came together. The reeds were thick and about four feet high. From there, they would spring their trap.

  Lightfoot and Roger had not gotten far into the woods to the east of the settlement when they hear the bell, the alarm bell at the fort. They ran back to the fort. Outside the fort, the cabin of Lightfoot and Roger was in flames. The men ran over to the burning structure. Other armed men of the village stood by. Lightfoot saw his wife dead. He looked at one of the men who said, "The Indians took your boy. There were three of them, and one had a purple birthmark on his face."

  “Black Wolf,” Lightfoot and Roger said in unison.

  They looked at each other and knew what must be done. Mourning could wait. The child must be saved. They knew Black Wolf wanted them dead. They were probably heading for a trap set by the Indians but had no choice if they wanted the boy. And Black Wolf was counting on this.

  “We’ll go with you,” a man in the crowd at the burning house said.

  “No,” said Lightfoot. “Black Wolf wants me and me alone. Others will die if they come. I must go alone.”

  “No,” said Roger. “I will go with you.”

  Lightfoot looked at Roger and nodded his head. "Come, we must go. Quickly."