Braddock's Gold

by Jay Heavner

  She smiled. He could see she was pleased and thankful. The Indian said he had more of the shiny coins. The Frenchman offered a trade, whiskey and rum. The warrior was interested. And so for three bottles of whiskey and two bottles of rum, he got ten gold coins. He asked the Indians where they found the coins. They said from a man and woman they had killed near Great Meadows. Geoffrey noted two scalps on the Indian's belt, one from a woman with long hair. The other came from a bald man.

  That was on Braddock's route to Fort Duquesne. He wondered if this was part of the payroll. Perhaps, yes, maybe it was. Time would tell. He'd be patient.

  Chapter 27

  Spring passed into summer on the little farm at the base of Patterson Creek Ridge. Cows must be milked. Crops required weeding, and water needed to be brought up to the cabin every day. It wasn't an easy life for anyone on the frontier. The summer was hot, but the rainfall was good except for several weeks in July when not a drop fell. John had worried the crops might fail if it remained dry much longer, but daily thunderstorms ended that worry. Soon, he worried about it being too wet, but such was the life of a farmer. The cow had calved in the spring. John must decide whether to keep the heifer for another milk cow, sell her, or butcher her when the weather turned cold. If hunting were successful, he'd choose between two. If not, they would need the cow for meat.

  It was a good harvest that year. The bean, squash, and corn crop were bountiful. Hunting was good, and John sold the young cow to another man up the valley. Summer had turned into fall. The leaves had turned beautiful colors and fallen. John marveled when they did this. There were so many colors to see, not like the little changing green of Ireland. Fall turned into winter. On many days snow flurries had been in the air, and they'd one snow of about four inches now melted. Often the sky was grey and overcast all day. Throughout it all, Jenny was there. She'd been a great help at the cabin and helped him in the field with the harvest. At first, she was reserved, but each day, she seemed more relaxed and comfortable with her life on the homestead.

  December started cool. Today was Christmas, and it was cold. John rose early, very early, before Jenny. Today was a special day. Today he would make her breakfast, not the other way around as she always had done. He added more wood to the fire. It was chilly in the cabin, and he needed it for warmth and to cook. John quickly and quietly prepared the meal. He cooked some bacon over the fire in a skillet. It smelled so good. John heard Jenny stirring in the loft. The smell of the bacon had woken her up. She looked down at John startled and said, "Sir, that's my job!"

  She descended the ladder from the loft quickly and began helping John with the food. John looked at Jenny and said, “Jenny, today is Christmas, and I wanted to do something special for you.”

  She looked up from her work and replied, "Thank you, sir, but you need not. It's my job to take care of you."

  John could see there was no point in arguing with her, so they worked on the meal together. When done, they sat at the table across from each other. John said a short prayer over the meal, and they ate. When they had finished, together they cleared the table. Jenny got John a cup of coffee from the kettle by the fire and gave it to John. He thanked her and said, "Jenny, we need to talk. Take a seat here at the table."

  Jenny did as he said. John sat across from her and sipped at his coffee. She looked at him patiently, but he could tell she was curious as to why he wanted to speak to her. He began, "As you know, today is Christmas. On this day, God gave us his Son born of a virgin to save us from our sins. That was the greatest gift ever given. Today I have a gift for you. I give you your freedom."

  He pulled Jenny's indentured servant papers from his pocket and wrote "payd in ful" in bold letters on it. John was barely literate. He showed them to Jenny, and then he tore them into pieces. Jenny sat stunned. John rose, walked to the fire, and threw the pieces in. They burned brightly for a minute and fell to the bottom as ash. John turned to the shocked Jenny. "Jenny," he said, "Say something. You're a free woman."

  Jenny was overwhelmed. All she could mutter to him was, “Thank you, Sir.”

  "There will be no more need for 'sir' Jenny," John said. "You can stay here, or if you want, you can walk out that door now and never look back. You're free!"

  Jenny opened her mouth to speak, but John cut her off. “There is one more thing. Jenny, I have loved you since the day I first laid eyes on you.”

  John got down on one knee, took her hand, and looked into Jenny's eyes. "Jenny, will you marry me?" he asked.

  She rose to her feet. She looked down at John, still holding her hand. "John Phares," she began, "if you had asked me yesterday, I would have felt obligated, and I would have said no, but today as a free woman, I can choose."

  She stopped for what seemed an eternity to John, then she smiled and said, “And today I say yes, John Phares. I will marry you. You will be my man, and I will be your woman.”

  John rose to his feet and put his arms around the waiting Jenny. They hugged, and they kissed for what seemed forever. Jenny looked into John's eyes and said, "When can we marry?"

  John thought for a moment, “The preacher most likely won’t be back till spring.”

  “John,” asked Jenny. “Isn’t God everywhere?”

  “Yes, He is,” replied John.

  “Then let’s say our wedding vows to Him right now,” Jenny said.

  John liked that idea and said, “Yes, let's do that.”

  He began, "Almighty and all-present God, today we stand before you, man and woman, and want to become one. Dear Lord, today I, John, take this woman, Jenny, as my wife. I will love her. I will keep her in sickness and in health. I take her for richer or for poorer. I shall be her man and, she shall be my woman. I do this without reservation. So help me, God. Amen."

  He looked at Jenny. She began, "Almighty and all-knowing God, today I stand before you a free woman. I take this man, John, to be my husband. I do this with no reservation. I will love him. I will cherish him like a precious jewel, and I will obey him. He will be my man, and I will be his woman from this day till the day I die. Amen."

  John and Jenny hugged and kissed. John took Jenny outside. The sun that day was shining bright on the little cabin. John reached under Jenny and picked her up. She let out a surprised gasp, and he carried a laughing Jenny over the threshold into the log cabin. She placed her head on his shoulder and smiled. She'd been given a gift beyond her wildest dreams. The rest of the day seemed like a dream for them. That night, Jenny did not sleep in the loft, but downstairs with her new husband.

  Three months later, when the weather turned to spring, Pastor Haskell was able to get to the little community, no longer called Frankfort, but Fort Ashby after the new fort and its commander. At that time, he made it official for John and a now pregnant Jenny. Six months later, a girl they named Jasmine was born. She would be the first of eight children, six that would live to adulthood. John and Jenny would have many ups and downs, many sorrows and joys, in their long lives at the cabin. The community would grow and change, but that's another story.

  Chapter 28

  1770, at the confluence of the Great Kanawha and the Ohio River near present-day Point Pleasant, West Virginia

  The water lapped lazily at the sides of the two canoes. Paddles dipped rhythmically into the murky waters of the Ohio River. Great blue herons and other kinds of fishing birds stepped stealthily along the river banks. The men in the canoes spoke little, each absorbed in his thoughts. Colonel George Washington, the leader of this expedition, was the quietest. He reviewed the events of the trip in his mind, especially the unexpected meeting that had occurred today on the banks of the Beautiful River, the Ohio, at the point where the Great Kanawha joined it. Colonel Washington had left his home and family at Mount Vernon some weeks before. He wanted to see the lands he had finally been granted for his services in the French and Indian War. It had been long in coming. He had purchased the rights to additional lands given to other veterans, who had gotten tired of w
aiting for the King to fulfill his promises.

  The Colonel wanted to see as much of the land as possible while on the frontier. The road west from Winchester teemed with settlers. Wagons pulled by horses, mules, or long-horned cattle moved in a steady stream. The wagons were loaded and overfilled with people and the provisions they would need in their new homes. Occasionally he had heard the clucking of chickens coming from the wagons. Some had a milk cow with a bulging udder following along tied to a rope. Sometimes a small calf walked alongside the mother.

  He had stopped at the Edwards' farm on the Cacapon River. It was good to see Mr. Edwards still in good health in spite of his age. Colonel Washington stopped at several places on Patterson Creek. He visited the place he remembered Fort Cox had stood, but found nothing at the site. Settlers had taken all the logs from the stockade and built nearby cabins with them. He noted an out of place small sycamore tree growing where he believed the old fort had stood. What was it doing up on this hill, not by a stream?

  His thoughts were interrupted by a splash near the boat. A small fish leaped and broke the surface. Perhaps a large fish wanted him for a meal, or maybe the canoe had spooked him. The fish disappeared in the murky liquid, and the water was quiet again. He had spent a lot of time in the Patterson Creek valley in his life. Besides Fort Cox, he had stopped at Frankfort, the site of Fort Ashby. Capt. John Ashby, Colonel Washington's old friend, had commanded the fort during the war. The town square was bustling with settlers headed to Fort Cumberland and points west. There were some timbers of the old fort still standing, but most had been carried away like Fort Cox. A cabin likely built from the fort's timbers had been built on the site. He stopped at Lightfoot and Roger McFarland's cabin. Some of the logs were new. Others were charred black from a past fire. A stout German woman, who spoke broken English, greeted him. With some difficulty, he discerned that the men he knew had moved somewhere to the west a few years earlier. He was very disappointed. He had wanted to see them and share old memories.

  He did stop at John Phares's cabin. John was delighted to see him. His wife, Jenny, treated him like family. The Colonel could tell they were very happy together. John was a lucky man to have such a fine wife and five little Phareses running around the crowded cabin.

  After leaving the Phares’s home, the company proceeded down Patterson Creek to the site of Fort Sellers. Again, this fort had suffered the same fate as Fort Cox, but there could be no mistaking its former location near the point where cliffs at the end of the ridge were. Like Fort Cox, it too had a small sycamore tree growing at the remembered site of the old Indian fort. A few shards of timbers still stood where the walls had been. It appeared most of the palisade had been cut off near ground level. It left the outline of the structure discernible, but there was little more. Washington could see it was out with the old and in with the new in the fast-paced world of 1770. They crossed the Potomac River and headed for Fort Cumberland. It was still standing. Indian attacks were possible, but it lessened every day as the frontier moved westward.

  The road to Fort Pitt was full of memories; the camp at Little Meadows, the battle of Fort Necessity at Great Meadows, and the glen where Jumonville died. Somewhere under the road were the bones of General Edward Braddock. At last, he came to the site of the great battle on the Monongahela. The horrors of that terrible day were never far from Colonel Washington's mind. There had been so many times in his life he had escaped death, and now he knew why. There had been at least five instances just here in western Pennsylvania.

  At the river forks, they met a company of Indians. An old and respected Delaware Chief, Red Hawk, had called a council fire with the white men. He'd traveled a long distance to speak with Washington. Through an interpreter, he spoke, "I am a chief and ruler of my tribes. I have great influence from the eastern mountains to the waters of the great lakes. I have traveled long to see the young warrior of the great battle. On the day when our guns made the waters and forest run red with the blood of many White soldiers, I first beheld this young chief named Washington. I called to my braves. See the tall and daring warrior. He stands tall on his horse exposed, directing the battle for his troops. Train your guns on him and kill him. He holds his men together. We aimed and fired with guns that fire true and do not know to miss, but all in vain. A power mightier than man protected you. You were under the special shield of the Great Spirit. We stopped firing at you. I fired at you many times. You were an easy target on the horse, but all our shots missed.

  Now I an old, and I speak this word of prophecy. Listen to me! The Great Spirit, the Giver of Life, protects you, Washington, and guides your destiny. You will lead a people yet unborn. I pay homage to a man who is a favorite of Heaven, a man who will never die in battle."

  These words rang in George Washington's ears even now. He knew that God does direct the paths of a man. What did the old chief mean when he said he would "lead a nation yet unborn?" Time would tell. All things happen for a reason and at the ordained time. For now, he'd continue on his journey and check out his lands in the Ohio Valley. He would ponder this as he traveled.

  Chapter 29

  It had been a warm fall in 1794. John Phares sat on the porch of his cabin at the foot of Patterson Creek Ridge about a mile south of the bustling village of Fort Ashby. The town square bustled with homesteaders going west. It was a favorite stopping off point on the main route between Winchester, Virginia, and Cumberland, Maryland. From Cumberland, the settlers would head on to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, at the forks of the Ohio River.

  Earlier this year, the old stockade fort had teemed with troops headed to put down the Whiskey Rebellion in western Pennsylvania. John had gone along. He had been fortunate to have seen and talked to his old friend, George Washington, now President of the United States. If anyone could lead this nation through these troubled times, it was George Washington. George had been happy to see him and stated he was glad to have an old soldier like John at his side. Though John had slowed down, his vision was still good, and he was still able to do a hard day's work.

  His wife, Jenny, sat on the porch with him along with several great-grandchildren. Their eight children, six that lived, had produced thirty children of their own. They'd helped raise some of the grandchildren and now were doing the same with some of the great-grandchildren.

  All in all, John felt he had a blessed life. A good wife, decent health, lots of children and grandchildren, and a piece of land to call his own. What more could a man ask for?

  Then there was the gold. It had provided the little extra when John needed it. He made his first trip back to retrieve all he could carry the spring after General Forbes had chased the French and Indians from Fort Duquesne, now the site of the growing town of Pittsburgh. Over the years, he had gone several times and retrieved more of the lost gold. Indian uprisings, civil insurrections, and revolution had cause gaps of years between the trips.

  On his way home from his recent trip to western Pennsylvania with General Washington, he had stopped at the old site, but been unable to find the last remaining gold in the cannons. Too much had changed. He knew he had been close, but he came up empty this time. He had always told Jenny when he went on these trips he was going "sangin," that is, after ginseng. It still brought a goodly price in these parts. He knew she knew better, but she never pressed the issue. He had his secrets from the past, and she did too. Some things were just best left alone. Let sleeping dogs lay; John could still hear his mother say.

  Some of the gold he kept hidden in the fissure cave in the ridge behind his house. He had buried other stashes of gold at the sites of frontier forts in his area. He planted a buttonwood tree to mark the spot. Some of the gold had fallen from his saddle through a tear on one trip. Some had ended up in a rain-swollen river, when his packhorse stumbled in the swift water, drown, and was carried away in the current.

  All in all, he had gotten most of the gold, but he had chosen to use little of it. He knew that new-found wealth attracts attention, most of it
unwanted. He was also afraid it would make him lazy or a snob like the English upper class he had met and observed. He would keep it for himself if he ever needed it, or perhaps one of his descendants sometime in the future would put it to good use. Maybe, time would tell.

  John looked over at his grandson’s boy. “Jesse,” he said, let’s go check on the eggs. Let’s see which hens are still layin’ and which ones will be dinner.”

  “That will be fun, Grandpa.” the young boy replied.

  The two walked to the hen house. John looked out over the valley in front of the cabin. A mist was forming in the valley he called a hollow. It would be foggy tonight and in the morning. It was beautiful. John knew he had his own little piece of heaven right here. He was a blessed man — a good wife, good family, good land, good friends, and the Good Lord above. No amount of gold could buy treasures like these. He would sleep well tonight.

  "Hey, Grandpa! Did you forget we’re after eggs?" questioned a young voice.

  “Boy, you get them, would you? And be careful not to break any.”

  “Sure will, Grandpa.”

  With that, the youth ran into the chicken coop, and immediately, the hens began to cackle as he searched for the eggs. John walked to a large old stump and sat down on it. Yes, he was a blessed man. When the Good Lord called him home to Heaven, he'd die a happy man. But John was in no hurry for that. There was still so much to see and do here before 'he took his eternal sleep. He smiled to himself.

  "Hey, Grandpa. Could you help me with all these eggs?"

  John turned toward the young voice. Jesse had his arms full of eggs. “Sure can. I'm coming as fast as I can.” Yes, he was a very blessed man.

  Chapter 30