Beyond the Quiet Hills

by Aaron McCarver

  She moved quickly and lightly across the ground and stood in front of Jacob. She was breathing rather quickly, and she fingered the buttons on the bodice of her dress nervously. A wave of panic came over her, but gathering her strength together, she said, “Jacob, this may not be my place, but . . .” She hesitated for just a moment, then said firmly, “I think you’ve been behaving terribly.”

  Jacob’s face flushed and he nodded, saying curtly, “You’re right. It’s not your place!”

  “I thought we were friends.”

  “We are friends, but you’re getting into my business!”

  “I don’t think I am. It’s not just your business the way you treat your father. And friends tell each other things and even have to correct each other sometimes.”

  “You don’t know anything about it, Amanda!” Jacob had never spoken harshly to Amanda. He had always been a faithful friend to her, partly out of compassion over the severity of her life and the difficulties she faced with a harsh father, but also because she was growing up to be a handsome young woman he found pleasing. Now, however, he was not himself and snapped, “You don’t know anything about me and about my family! My father abandoned me!”

  Amanda stared at Jacob for a minute, then with a sudden burst of inner strength, she spoke up, and her own voice was tinged with something as close to anger as she would ever have toward this young man. “You had a father who abandoned you, but that’s better than . . . but that’s better than having one who beat you!”

  Whatever Jacob had been expecting Amanda to say, it was not this. He stood there with the sunlight beating down on his face, feeling the warmth of it, but his eyes were locked onto Amanda’s. She had beautiful brown eyes, almond shaped and expressive, and now suddenly he found he could not meet her gaze. He was struck with the truth that he was speaking to someone with more problems than he had. He stood there quietly as she spoke, wishing to turn and run away from her words, but unwilling to retreat.

  “Your father left you, Jacob, but he came back, and he’s been trying to make it up to you.”

  As he glanced up when she stopped speaking, her face suddenly seemed very vulnerable to Jacob. There was a softness and a gentleness about this girl that he had always admired. Somehow she had none of the sharpness or the quickness of other young women, and he had always admired her for this.

  Finally she whispered, “Jacob, my father always mistreated me terribly and . . . and I hated him! You can’t know how I hated him! Why, I would lie in bed at night and wish that he would die!” Here she turned her eyes upward and her lips trembled as dark memories swept back over her. “But after I gave my heart to God, I had to ask forgiveness for all those feelings.”

  Jacob was moved by her words and even more by her open honesty in being willing to share this with him. It was a quality he admired, for he himself had never been able to share his innermost thoughts with anyone. It was as if he kept a room somewhere with all of his deepest feelings and his dreams locked up securely. Even now, as he felt a yearning to speak out about those things that had troubled him for years, he found himself unable to mention them to Amanda. “God doesn’t care for me,” he muttered.

  “God gave you a family, Jacob. Even when your father left, you had your grandparents. They took wonderful care of you obviously.”

  “Well . . . maybe so.”

  “Instead of being upset, you ought to be thankful.”

  “I don’t want to listen to this, Amanda . . . !” Jacob turned to go, but suddenly his arm was grasped and he turned around, surprised to see Amanda’s eyes were suddenly angry.

  “I think everyone’s getting tired of you feeling sorry for yourself,” she said, and there was a strength in her voice that he had never heard before. “You’ve had a hard time, but that’s no reason for you to behave like you’re doing now. All that’s in the past! You need to put everything behind you and go forward! Jacob, can’t you see you’re hurting yourself even more than you’re hurting others?” She waited for him to speak and when he did not, she said, “Try to understand. Hawk left you without a father for many years—but he has changed, and now you’re robbing yourself of a father who really loves you! Can’t you see that, Jacob?”

  The words of the young woman struck at Jacob with a stronger force than he let show. Jacob kept his face immobile, though his heart was crying out at the truth of what Amanda was saying. He could not answer, for he knew if he did, he would have to share hurts and deep disappointments that he could not talk about. Feeling like a coward, he said brusquely, “I’ll come back and drive the wagon, Amanda.”

  Amanda watched as Jacob whirled and walked rapidly away, his back straight. She felt a sense of failure and frustration and fought to keep back her tears. For a long time she had been secretly attracted to Jacob Spencer, although she would never have admitted it to anyone. After his engagement with Abigail failed, a ray of hope had shone into her heart, and she had waited for Jacob to notice her. Many times she had tried her best to do her hair a different way and had dressed more carefully, but all for naught. Now she turned blindly and moved back into the cabin, hearing her mother call.

  “All right, Mother. I’m coming,” she said, and as she did, she quietly closed the door on her feelings for Jacob Spencer.

  ****

  Fort Caswell was little different from any of the other forts in the wilderness. Some were small, while others were quite large and stockaded. The log fort was the most common type of fortification on the Appalachian frontier. They could be built by unskilled labor, for the walls were made of upright pointed stakes with the tops sharpened, embedded deeply in the ground to prevent them from being pried out of place. Long horizontal stringers fastened with wooden pegs held the palisades in place, and heavy log blockhouses that overhung the second stories were built at each corner. Usually the forts comprised a single acre, rarely any larger, and along the inside walls small log cabins, sometimes joined to each other using a single inner wall, provided living quarters. As a rule, they had two rooms with puncheon floors, but many were simply hard-packed dirt. Often the clapboard roofs were held in place by lengths of long, heavy saplings.

  Inside the fort the courtyard served as a stock pen, but at Fort Caswell an enclosure had been built at the north end to shelter the horses and cattle at night. A single large, heavy folding gate faced the outside, which was critically balanced so that a single strong man could close it without difficulty. Outside the fort all trees and undergrowth had been cleared away for about three hundred feet. The Spencers arrived at the fort and at once were aware of the stir of people within the stockade. Men were moving in and out constantly, and the fear of invasion could be seen in the eyes of some of the women. Others were cheerful, insisting that there would be no war.

  Hawk had rented one of the small cabins built against the inner wall of the fort, and Elizabeth and the other women who came in soon learned how to adjust. Elizabeth made a broom by shredding a hickory pole grain by grain, then swept the earthen floor each day. She cooked game meats over the fireplace, or baked corn pones there, using the iron vessels she had brought with her. Life was reduced to a few simple things, and although Elizabeth soon realized that a long stay in such close confinement would be aggravating, they would have to endure it. She settled down and grew accustomed to the hum of people who came and went inside the walled town. She learned quickly every element inside the fort. The smith’s shop was set up inside the center square, and men brought their tools and guns to be mended. She went often to the hominy block, where corn was pounded free of the husk, and then would wait at the spring while the women in turn dipped water into their piggins.

  Amanda and Iris, the Stevenses, the Andersons, the Fosters, and the Baxters were all close friends, so the young people often got together and talked of the excitement that had come into their rather undramatic lives. Jacob mostly stayed away, keeping to himself. He went out each day with the hunters to bring in game for those confined to the safety of the fort. />
  Sarah was happy, for she was a girl who liked the bustle of activity. Sometimes life out on the homestead grew tiresome for her, but now she rose early and talked almost constantly with someone, usually Philip Baxter. Young Baxter was obviously taken with her and told her so. They often went outside the walls of the stockade, never going far, for Hawk and others had put out pickets so that by day, at least, the fort was safe from attack.

  Rhoda Anderson soon grew fond of Ann Robertson, the sister of James, and Catherine Sherill, a single woman who was more outgoing than most.

  Elizabeth, missing Lydia Bean, asked William when his wife was coming in, and she received a rather strange answer.

  “Oh, she’ll be in when she sees the Indians coming. Our house is so close that we wouldn’t have any trouble getting into the stockade.”

  Hawk, who was standing nearby, narrowed his eyes. “I don’t much care for that, William. Those Indians can sneak up on a man before he knows they’re even in the country.”

  Bean grinned. “I been dodgin’ ’em for some years now, Hawk. I reckon I can do it for a while longer.”

  Later that day Hawk spoke to Elizabeth of Lydia Bean. “I don’t like it. I’m going to talk to William again.”

  “She just doesn’t like living in the stockade.”

  “Neither do you. None of us do, but it’s a thing that has to be done. I’ll speak to William about it later. It’s too dangerous out there for a woman.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  On the Warpath

  John Sevier looked up from his work on the stockade at Fort Lee on Limestone Creek. He had been instrumental in having the fort built on the Nolichucky River and had hurried the construction as quickly as possible. However, there were not enough hands for the work, and the fort was far from ready for any sort of defense.

  “Who’s that?” the man asked Charlie Denvers, who had also stopped. Denvers had the sharpest eyes of any man at Fort Lee, and now he peered carefully at the approaching rider.

  “Don’t know, but he’s shore to kill that horse. Must be Indians on his trail or somethin’.”

  The two men moved out, picking up their muskets as they went and calling a warning to the men down the line. They all waited while the horse staggered into camp and a man fell off.

  “Hello, stranger. Your horse is about gone.”

  “I’m looking for Sevier.”

  “I’m John Sevier.”

  “My name’s Catlin. Josh Catlin. I’ve got bad news.” Catlin’s face was strained and his lips were chapped with the heat of the sun. “You got some water for a man?” He waited until one of the men brought a bucket of water, drank from it noisily, then shook his head. “You better pull out of here. Them Cherokees is on the move.”

  “How do you know that?” Sevier asked quickly. He had been fearing such news, and now he was almost certain that it had come.

  “Nancy Ward. She was at the Cherokee council. She managed to slip away unnoticed and got word to Isaac Thomas, and he broke away and brought the news. You gotta get out of here right now. I ’spect there’ll be around five hundred of them red devils comin’!”

  The messenger was exhausted and was surrounded at once by men and women who were startled by his news. Sevier took one look around and knew there was no hope. A near panic broke out as the people of Nolichucky fled in a mass exodus. Sevier was left with fifteen men and shook his head. “We’d better get over to the fort at Watauga. I expect they’ll need all the help they can get.”

  ****

  The day after Sevier and the inhabitants of Fort Lee fled, the Cherokee arrived with Dragging Canoe and Old Abram leading the combined tribes of warriors. Finding the fort deserted, they did not even bother to destroy the crops or the animals. They burned the fort, and here the main force divided. Dragging Canoe led his forces toward Long Island, and Old Abram continued his march toward Watauga.

  Dragging Canoe was burning with a fierce anger and assumed that he would have an easy time with the helpless settlers. But he did not know that five companies of militia, warned by the message brought by Isaac Thomas, had assembled at Eaton’s Station near Long Island.

  The militia, led by Colonel William Preston, prepared to meet the attack. Instead of staying inside the fort, they chose rather to fight on open ground. The two forces were about equal in number and met in a fierce battle on Island Flats. The hand-to-hand combat lasted only an hour, but the Indians were defeated. Many warriors were killed or wounded, among them Chief Dragging Canoe, suffering a broken thigh. The Indians fled the field, carrying their wounded with them—thus the first battle of the American Revolution west of the mountains was over. The defeat of the Indians gave the white leaders confidence that they could meet the Indians on equal terms. To the Cherokee the battle meant loss of faith in their strength. Dragging Canoe’s forces moved back in a retreat, but Old Abram moved steadily toward Fort Watauga.

  ****

  John Sevier looked around the inside of the fort and nodded grimly. He was a tall, dark-haired man with piercing gray eyes and now said, “Well, Hawk, it looks like we’re as ready as we’ll ever be.”

  Hawk was molding bullets and looked up long enough from his chore to nod. “I’m glad you came, Sevier. It sounds like we’re going to need all of you.”

  “What’s the date?” Sevier asked idly. He was watching a tall young woman who was laughing and playing with several of the younger children. They were playing some kind of a game that involved running, and he noticed that she ran like a deer. The sun caught her dark hair, and he was intrigued by her.

  “July twenty-first,” Hawk answered. He looked up to see Sevier watching the young woman and smiled. “You know that young woman?”

  “No, but I’d like to. What’s her name?”

  “Catherine Sherill. They call her Bonnie Kate.” Hawk was amused at Sevier’s open admiration. “Sometimes I think she can outrun, outshoot, and outride any man in the settlement.”

  “Wouldn’t be a bad woman to have on your side,” Sevier said.

  Sevier left Hawk and moved over to stand closer to where the game was taking place. The young woman noticed him and stopped and smiled at him. She had eyes the color of a blue cornflower, and they were striking in her tanned face. “Maybe you’d like to join the game,” she smiled.

  “Not likely. I don’t think any man could catch you—in a race, that is.”

  “No man ever has.”

  “That doesn’t mean no man ever will,” John Sevier said. He stood there speaking to the young woman, pleased by her openness and frankness, then said, “Maybe we’ll have a dance here after we get these Indians taken care of. I dance a little better than I run, I think.”

  Catherine Sherill laughed and said cheerfully, “I wouldn’t mind that.”

  “Maybe we could go for a walk early tomorrow sometime outside the stockade. A man gets crowded in here.”

  Catherine only smiled at him and went back to the game.

  That night there was an uneasiness in the air, and Hawk crowded into the small cabin with his whole family and was holding Joshua, entertaining him, by the light of the single lamp. Elizabeth was holding Hannah, humming a little song to put her to sleep. “You look worried, Hawk.”

  “I think we’re in for a hard time.”

  “You think they’ll come soon?”

  “Yes. They have to do it quick. Indians don’t stay together like white men. They’ll come together for a while, but they don’t seem to have the ability to fit together in a federation of any kind.”

  “Be careful when the fighting starts.”

  Hawk smiled and shrugged. “The Lord will have to keep us all safe.”

  The next morning at daybreak Hawk strolled along the inside of the fort, speaking again to Sevier. He had learned to know the man and liked him considerably. “I saw you speaking to Bonnie Kate yesterday. You got something on your mind, John?”

  “I might. I never saw a woman like her. I wish—” He broke off suddenly and t
urned his head, and Hawk also did. “That’s a musket shot,” he said. “Come on.” The two men climbed on top of the cabin roofs where they could fire over the walls of the stockade, and at once both men saw the red bodies of Indians gleaming in the early-morning sunlight.

  “There’s women out there!” Sevier exclaimed, and his eyes caught the athletic form of Catherine Sherill. She was running hard for the stockade, but the door was shut.

  “Here, you’re a better shot! Take my rifle, Hawk!”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “She can’t get up these walls and the door’s shut. Make every shot count!”

  Hawk watched as the young woman raced across the open space. Some fleet Indians were chasing her not far behind. He chose one in front, drew a bead on him, and squeezed the trigger. The shot drove the brave backward, and Hawk instantly picked up Sevier’s musket. He turned to see Sevier leaning down over the top of the palisades trying to dodge the sharp edges of the logs. He was holding on with his left hand and had stooped down so far that he had appeared to fall.

  Hawk said, “Hang on, John! When you get her I’ll help!” He waited until the young woman was almost to the wall, then shot another Indian in the chest. He had no time to reload, so he grabbed Sevier’s legs and lowered him an extra foot. “Can you get her, John?”

  Sevier leaned over the wall. He heard the striking of musket balls into the solid logs beside him but only cared about Kate. His eyes were fixed on the young woman’s face, and he called out, “Here, Kate! Take my hand!” He leaned and stretched as far as he could, and when the young woman reached the wall, she made a tremendous jump, farther than any woman could possibly leap, he thought. It was well that she did, for her hand barely reached his. He grabbed her wrist, squeezed it, and said, “Pull us up, Hawk!”

  Hawk gave a tremendous pull at Sevier’s legs, and Sevier, using both hands on Kate Sherill’s wrists, hauled her up. The two fell together, and she landed directly across Sevier’s chest.