Moses Stegall met with a violent end a year or so after his wife’s and baby’s deaths, for his involvement in persuading a young woman to run away with him. Several writers speculate that he secretly had dark dealings with the Harpes himself, and that his act of cutting off Micajah’s head was motivated more by a desire to silence the other man before he could be implicated, than revenge for his wife and baby. I tend to disagree and point to Sarah McClendon’s account of how he kept venting his fury on that head.
John Leiper is a similar mystery. Otto Rothert relates a story of crime and woe connected with him, but again, when I dug into genealogical records, I discovered a census record with the name, details of family members, and a verified burial place. I think this is a case of stories getting confused in a time when we didn’t have access to certain records, and it’s likely that Leiper was more the upstanding citizen I’ve portrayed him to be. Also, I’d point to the testimony of Sarah McClendon, who as a neighbor, more or less, spoke very highly of him.
Lastly, at least three different accounts exist of Micajah’s final days and death. I had to choose the most likely but least cluttered … which indeed could describe the entire process of separating probable fact from certain fiction surrounding the legend of the Harpes.
Regarding all that, the reader might be tempted to ask, were the Harpes really as bad as I’ve portrayed them? Did they truly commit all the murders attributed to them? If court documents and eyewitness accounts are at all trustworthy, then absolutely. Did Micajah actually murder his own child? The births of all three babies are well documented, with it also being well documented that when the women were apprehended and brought to trial after Micajah’s death, only Susan and Betsey had living children with them. If McBee’s own testimony is to be believed (as recounted by Rothert and given credence by him for many reasons), then Micajah himself admitted it, although his exact words were, “a child of my own blood,” which could include any of Wiley’s offspring. Yet, from what we can gather of the men’s sexual habits, it would not be surprising if Sally were shared between them at some point after her marriage to Wiley. It would, in my opinion, be more surprising if she were not. Either way, even the bare facts about the whole situation are horrifying. I tried to present the more gruesome historical events of this story with as little detail as possible (and in most cases, in filmmaking terms, “off screen”), but felt I couldn’t avoid an on-screen recounting of the murder of Sally’s baby—nor of the later incident that provided proof of the spiritual forces in effect.
Which naturally leads to the question of, how much is too much? I asked myself that countless times during the writing of this book. Prayed nearly without ceasing over it. Agonized over the things God will allow and still say, “All things work together for good to them who love God….” Note, though, that it does not say “All things ARE good.” And that often-quoted passage in Philippians 4, which tells us where to fix our thoughts, likewise does not say, “Think on things that are only excellent or worthy of praise, in and of themselves,” but gives room for what I call the redemptive in things that, well, in and of themselves are less than wonderful. So it is my prayer that you, the reader, may find something redemptive in this story of the terrible Harpes.
For a complete listing of my sources, including more discussion of details, please see my website, shannonmcnear.com.
Acknowledgments
Becky Germany—thank you for first suggesting the idea and once again inviting me aboard.
Ellen Tarver—thank you for both patience and perceptive editing, which made this story better and stronger.
Lee S. King—thank you for reading, my good and dear friend! And encouraging. And praying! I could not have done this without you….
Corrie McNear—you’ve read every word, and often kept me going, once again.
Breanna McNear—same! Thank you for your fangirl faithfulness!
Jen Uhlarik—for prayer and encouragement.
Jenelle Hovde—once again, amazing beta reader, with absolutely invaluable insight and feedback.
Michelle Griep—crit partner extraordinaire, who ruthlessly hunts down all my repeated words and pet phrases.
Deborah Teitsort Richardson—for your zeal and dedication in providing last-minute research—it made a difference!
Kailey, Jeanne, Phyllis, Jenelle, Teri, Trisha, Brenda, Tina, Andrea, Susan, Paula, Renee—my official influencer team, and many others who have read and liked my stories and taken the time to write reviews. Thank you all so much for your faithful readership, and for being brave enough to tackle this story as well!
Troy—for believing in me all these years. You’ve endured every part of this journey the last three decades and more, from the long hours I’d devote to writing simply because I had a story burning to get out, to sending me to writers conferences without a word of complaint … and now, slogging through deadlines. (Yay! I have deadlines!) May we continue to be a living witness of God’s mercy and grace.
And—of course—my glorious Lord and Creator. You, who blinds the night with Your radiance, once again answered my tearful prayers. You carried me through, gave me the words, and brought this work to completion. I am here for You.
Transplanted to North Dakota after more than two decades in Charleston, South Carolina, Shannon McNear loves losing herself in local history. She’s a military wife, mom of eight, mother-in-law of three, grammie of three, and a member of ACFW and RWA. Her first novella, Defending Truth in A Pioneer Christmas Collection, was a 2014 RITA® finalist. When she’s not sewing, researching, or leaking story from her fingertips, she enjoys being outdoors, basking in the beauty of the northern prairies. Connect with her at www.shannonmcnear.com, or on Facebook and Goodreads.
The Blue Cloak Page 25