Mara: A Georgian Romance

by Barbara T. Cerny

  One man was killed while pushing a wagon up Cumberland Gap. He slipped and was crushed beneath the wheels.

  Another was crushed between two oxen that became belligerent.

  A young boy drowned on a river crossing.

  It wasn’t just Indians they had to worry about. Disease and accidents took the greatest toll on the DeGinder Wagon Train. This trip was literally killing them.

  They had lost five people to infection, or worse.

  One day, a horrific bout of dysentery gripped the travelers, bringing the wagon train to a complete halt for a day-and-a-half. More than half the folks were in its clutches, including all of the Abbot clan except Jake. The ones who were unaffected stood guard so the ones who were sick could run back and forth into the woods as each spasm took them. Two small children and one elderly woman died, their bodies unable to handle the dehydration.

  To treat diseases and wounds, DeGinder carried medical supplies such as “physicing” pills, castor oil, rum or whiskey, peppermint oil, quinine for malaria, hartshorn for snakebites, and citric acid for scurvy. He also had opium, laudanum, morphine, calomel, and tincture of camphor. But no pills or potions helped with the diarrhea, and those affected simply had to wait for it to run its course.

  DeGinder was right—this journey was not for the meek or mild. The Abbot clan was glad they were all young and healthy. They all were secretly glad now that Mara was no longer pregnant. She certainly would have miscarried under these conditions, and it would have been worse out here in the rough country.

  One night, Mara and Jake lay on their bedrolls, holding hands. They were both worn to the bone, and Mara blurted out, “I think life might have been easier if I had married the duke.”

  Jake grunted.

  She fell asleep before she could determine if his response was a yes or a no. Truth be told, she really didn’t care.

  Another night, Jake sat on a barrel leaning against DeGinder’s wagon, his eyes closed, trying to force his weary body to get up and walk back to his own wagon. He and the other council members had just finished pronouncing judgment on two men who had caused a fight earlier that day.

  “You impress me, Abbot,” DeGinder said matter-of-factly.

  Jake didn’t move. “Thanks. What did I do to deserve such praise?”

  “I’ve been watching you on the council, and you seem to really understand what makes people tick. You empathize with their plight, and try to understand the heart of the matter. It is like you’ve been in their shoes, and know what it is like to be there.”

  Jake opened his eyes and turned his head to look at Gus.

  “Maybe I do.”

  “Yeah,” DeGinder snorted. “You who was born with a silver spoon in your mouth.”

  “Money doesn’t solve every problem. Nor does it make you civilized. Father was a brute. Rich, but a thug in every sense of the word.” He stared up at the vast expanse of stars, not really seeing them. “Yea, verily. I have been there.”

  Jake stood up and walked off, leaving Gus to ponder the young man’s words. Abbot’s soul runs deep, he thought. That boy’s soul runs very deep.

  *****

  By the time they reached Middlesboro, Mara was sure she had gone insane. They were gaunt, fatigued, and at the end of their ropes. They left the DeGinder Wagon Train, as it continued on to Tennessee. They and eight other families traveling on to Kentucky decided to stay in Middlesboro for a couple of days to rest and regain their sanity.

  Jake was once again the de facto government. Beresford was the navigator. He had the maps and the compass, and kept them on the straight and narrow.

  The carriage was now the lead vehicle, with Beresford’s right behind. Jake acted on autopilot, his brain ceasing to function most of the day. The rest of them were only two steps behind him on their own voyage to losing their minds.

  Jake had grown from boy to man on this journey. The heavy burden of responsibility for so many people forced him to mature practically overnight. He felt as if the young Jake Abbot had been left behind along the trail, replaced with a new grown-up Jake Abbot, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Two months on a wagon train pushed his spirit to a new place, a harder place, an unforgiving place.

  He was a pretender, forced to think about every move he made in order to playact the English gentleman. It lay heavy on his psyche. Playacting on the ship where he had no responsibilities was easy. Playacting on this wagon train, where he had to fight daily to keep his brood alive, was brutal beyond all comprehension.

  *****

  With much joy in their hearts, the group arrived in Columbia, Kentucky, on May 31st—sixty-two days after leaving Newark.

  They circled the wagons just outside of town. Jake wasn’t sure what else to do.

  Beresford offered advice. “Go and find the mayor, or the sheriff, or some other town official, and introduce yourself. You want to be on the good side of the law from the start.”

  Jake and Mara shook off as much dust as possible, and rode Crookshanks and Beaumont into town, leaving the rest to settle in for the night.

  It took them no time at all to find the Commonwealth Tavern, and the sheriff. He was at the bar, having a half pint.

  Jake almost started frothing at the mouth at the sight of mead. It had been so long since he’d had any, he actually couldn’t recall the taste of it.

  He put out his hand. “Jacob Abbot, at your service, sheriff. This is my wife, Mara. I am the wagon master for the twenty-three wagons that just pulled up outside of town.”

  Sheriff Wiley put his hand out, appraising these two road-weary youngsters. “John Wiley. Welcome to Columbia. Glad to meet you, Jake! And your lovely wife, Mara.” He put his lips to her hand. “You hardly look old enough to be a wagon master. What are you—nineteen, twenty?”

  “Twenty-one. I agree, but seeing as how I was the only English-born gentleman on the wagon train, the position fell to me.”

  Sheriff Wiley laughed, pounding Jake on the back, nearly knocking him over. “Well, at least you survived it, kid!”

  “Yes, we survived—barely,” muttered Mara. Her dress was torn and road-worn; her hands scabbed and cracked, her shoes barely hanging on her feet.

  “Mrs. Abbot, I think you would be beautiful wearing rags and sporting a beard and mustache. You are lovely.”

  Mara gave him her best smile. She liked this man!

  He took her by the arm. “I would be mighty pleased if you would escort me out to the wagons and introduce me around to my new citizens.”

  Jake watched as the sheriff and his wife chatted easily all the way to the horses. Wiley helped her mount Crookshanks before mounting his own horse. They didn’t even wait for Jake. He would have to remind Mara later who was her man! Jake slowly mounted Beaumont and followed.

  Two days later, the Abbot clan and the Maher folk pulled up to a shallow, babbling creek. Beresford pulled out his map and the directions given by the sheriff. “I think we are here, Jake. Welcome to your land.”

  Jake pulled the carriage through the creek and up the other side, moving far enough forward for all the wagons to safely traverse the water. To his left and south was the ridge Thomas had told them about back in New York. That seemed like a lifetime ago! They had just crossed the unnamed creek that cut through their land. Ahead about four miles would be the Green River. To the north would lie Alvin, Pete, Luke, and Cecilia’s land.

  Jake helped Mara down from the carriage, and hand-in-hand they walked around through the trees. The emotion welling up in him was hard to describe. He had started life as a vicar’s son, then became an orphan, a stable hand, and a jewel thief. Now he was the largest land holder in the county and, if the Sheriff was correct, maybe in all of Kentucky. Mara squeezed his hand. He looked down at her. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, causing streaks through the dust on her face. He could tell she felt the same way.

  He pulled her to him and gave her a long, deep kiss, cracked lips to cracked lips, dirty face to dirty face, dus
ty body to dusty body. “Welcome, home, my love. Welcome home,” he whispered, and continued the kiss.

  Mara’s heart leapt in her breast. None of her love for Jake had been lost, just suppressed by 850 miles of hardship and heartache. She drank in his kiss.

  “Ahem.”

  They had completely forgotten there were other people around. In fact, there stood twenty men, plus their own family.

  They stopped kissing, and Mara blushed, looking down at her feet.

  Luke spoke up first. “I know it ‘as been a long time, wagon master. I would like to kiss me own wife, but first things first. We gotta organize before dusk.”

  They all laughed, and started on the business of settling into their new home.

  *****

  The next morning, Mara and Jake left the little camp and took a walk up the creek, looking for a place to bathe. Jake left explicit instructions that no one was to follow them. The others understood, and wouldn’t have dared follow.

  Mara couldn’t wait to wash her hair and scrub the dirt out from cracks and crevices she didn’t know were on her body.

  As soon as they found a little spot where the creek created a pool, Mara quickly undressed and jumped in the water. She came up sputtering. “Oh, my Lord, that’s cold!”

  Jake undressed and jumped in after her. He, too, gasped. “Whew! I think I just froze my insides!”

  Mara laughed and splashed him and they spent the next hour cleaning and playing around in the water, carefree and happy again

  Chapter 53

  Right on schedule, Alvin boarded the Charleston, and headed for America. The six-week trip was rather uneventful; he spent the time working with the crew mainly for something to do. He learned a lot about sails, booms, rudders, masts, and such. He was so happy to be on his way, nothing could put a damper on his high spirits.

  He arrived in New York the second week of June, ten weeks after the rest of the group had left for Kentucky. He immediately set out to find the Turkey Shoot Tavern, and Mr. Robert Cavendish.

  Mr. Cavendish warmly welcomed him. “Any friend of Jake and Mara Abbot’s is a friend of mine!” he boomed.

  They sat down to do business.

  The envelope Jake and Mara had left behind was quite large. In it was an unsigned deed for 1,280 acres of land in Adair County, Kentucky. Adair! Alvin burst out laughing. Mr. Cavendish stared blankly at him, not understanding the joke.

  “You will have to go see Mr. Thomas at the title company, as he has the rest of the paperwork for your land. Sign here on this deed, however.” Alvin signed, a smile lighting up his face. He was a landowner! It was unbelievable. “Did everyone buy 1,280 acres?” he asked.

  “The Abbots bought over ten thousand, my boy!”

  Alvin nearly fell out of his chair.

  Also in the envelope was an invoice to a stable. It was good for a horse, tack, and a pack mule with four saddle bags.

  Next was an invoice for a pistol, a rifle, two holsters, bullets, powder, cleaning kit, and lessons from a local sharpshooter. Another invoice was for a sword and sheath and fencing lessons.

  The fourth invoice was for supplies and a spot on a wagon train that would leave in three weeks.

  Lastly was a packet of five hundred American dollars—a princely sum—for his trip and other expenses. Alvin was flabbergasted. That jewelry had truly been worth a bloody fortune!

  He stayed in the Turkey Shoot Tavern and spent the next three weeks learning how to shoot and then fence with Monsieur Guempes. The good Monsieur kept Alvin in stitches telling him about the lessons he had given to his friends.

  In no time at all, he sat on his new horse, Stargazer, pulling a pack mule he named Boxcar, as part of a large wagon train heading west.

  *****

  Maher’s men truly knew what they were doing. For the next several weeks, they picked the spot to build the house—a partially treeless area. They then cleared three acres of woods in and around the little meadow for the house, paddock, and barn. They also marked the trees to be used for the log cabin and those to be taken back east.

  The creek was lined with white oaks so they named it White Oak Creek.

  The property also contained hundreds of mature chestnut trees which would be used to build the cabin and rail fences for the paddock. Chestnut would also be split into shingles for the roof to cover the cabin and eventually the barns. Luke was happy to see these trees, as the bark was used to make tannic acid for tanning and dyeing—much needed in his trade. The women could use the nuts in cooking as well.

  They now spent their days felling trees. After the trees were cut down, all the branches and limbs had to be cut off the logs before they could be used to build the cabin or shipped back east. It was backbreaking work, and they were exhausted every night, but it was a good kind of fatigue. They knew all of their hard work would benefit them and their future.

  They built platforms from the felled trees on which to store the materials for the house. The tarps covered the various woods and trims to protect them from the weather during the next year.

  They now had their three tents up, a roofed lean-to under which went the crates, a hen house built by the women, and a paddock.

  They built a platform for the cabin—a thirty-five-foot by thirty-foot structure with four eight-foot by ten-foot bedrooms and one large central space which would house both the fireplace and the kiln behind it. Along the front wall was a five-foot roofed porch. The kiln would not only make the bricks, but heat the cabin in the winter. The platform consisted of logs laid on leveled ground and cut, rough-hewn planks carted from New York nailed to the logs to make the floor.

  As soon as the platform for the cabin was complete, Beresford marked off the placement of the inner and outer walls. They built the kiln using the standard bricks they brought from New York, and then lined it with firebricks. The kiln, in turn, would be used to make bricks for the cabin’s fireplace.

  Jake was impressed by the efficiency and effectiveness of the Maher crew, and wrote a letter of thanks for Beresford to take back with him, stating his pleasure with the entire operation.

  A few of Beresford’s men trekked up and down the creek and then the Green River to find the right kind of clay for the bricks and lime for the mortar. The clay was found two miles up the river, a six-mile hike one way from the kiln. They located lime a mile in the other direction. The trees were too thick for the wagons to pass, so they fashioned litters for the horses to haul the clay and limestone back to the kiln. The Abbot clan was then taught how to make bricks using the clay, sand, and dried grass. They had to combine these materials in the right proportions, and then pack the mixture into molds that fit perfectly in the kiln. Beresford taught them to make mortar out of sand, limestone, and water.

  The fireplace, again lined with firebricks, went up quickly once they had the process down. Deirdre had the right touch and could tell if the brick mixture was right just by putting her hand in the bucket and squishing it between her fingers.

  When the time came for the Maher crew to leave, it was like saying goodbye to family. The cabin wasn’t complete, but Jake, Pete, and Luke would be able to finish it before winter set in.

  *****

  Alvin arrived at the farm midday, having spent the night in Columbia. He crossed a creek in a well-traveled spot, and stopped partway up a rutted drive to take in the view.

  He saw a large clearing where a homestead was being built. Three tents were on one side, a makeshift paddock in the back, and a partially built log cabin on the other side. Jake led two horses that were each pulling a large log on a chain. Pete and Luke hewed another large log, prepping it to form part of the cabin wall.

  Emotion caught in Alvin’s throat as he watched his friends—brothers he hadn’t seen in over a year. He had to swallow hard and blink to keep the tears at bay.

  “Alvin!” He heard Mara’s voice and looked at the front of one of the tents as she emerged and spotted him. Mara ran to him. He dismounted and raced to meet her, p
icking her up and swinging her around in circles, planting a kiss fully on her lips. He put her down and they continued a fierce hug until the rest of them ran up and pulled them down in a huge dog pile.

  “Alvin!”

  “Holy Mary, Mother of God! It be great to see you!”

  “Gad, I missed you, man!”

  Cecilia followed in a more sedate manner, laughing with joy to see the last of her brood in their new home. “Welcome home, son. Welcome home.”

  They all finally stood up, brushing off grass and leaves, but still hugging and kissing Alvin.

  Deirdre walked down the drive, curious to meet this Alvin everyone talked about so frequently with such love.

  He spotted her and stood still, awed by her blue eyed, black-haired loveliness. “Who be this fine lady?”

  Luke rushed up to Deirdre and put his arm around her waist.

  “Alvin, meet me charming wife, Deirdre.”

  “Wife!” Alvin’s jaw dropped in amazement. Luke, the rutting boar, married? Never in a million years would Alvin have guessed this turn of events. Pete, maybe, but Luke? This lass must be worth her weight in gold.

  He put out his hand to shake hers. Having none of that, Deirdre threw her arms around him, and gave him a kiss of welcome. “I have heard so much about you, Alvin. I am so glad to meet you at last.” She took him by the arm and led him up the path, chatting the entire way. Alvin looked over his shoulders in wonder at the rest. They all just shrugged their shoulders and followed the two back to the homestead, Pete leading Stargazer and Boxcar.

  It was good to finally be a whole family again.