Around the River's Bend

by Aaron McCarver

  “Let’s go show them the big meadow,” Hannah said. “Come on, Sion, I’ll race you.” She kicked her heels into the mare and went flying off. Sion bounced along after her, for he was not an expert rider.

  “That sister of mine will wear Sion to death. She’s got more energy than any ten women I ever saw.”

  “She’s quite a woman.”

  “Well, I think so too. Come along. I’ll show you where the wild raspberries grow.”

  ****

  The first week Sabrina spent with the Spencers had flown by. Every day had been busy, and she had gone back twice to view the land, once with Hannah and once with Josh. She had discovered some cleared ground, and Sion was anxious to break it and get a crop in. She herself knew nothing of planting crops, but she was grateful for Sion’s interest. He had begun the work under the direction of Hawk, while she had spent a great deal of time with Elizabeth and Hannah finding out what women did in America. She was shocked at the amount of hard work that was necessary to keep a household going. Things she had always taken for granted had to be done the hard way. The only time she’d ever had to do any household work was when she’d lived with her aunt.

  On Sunday there was no spoken invitation to attend church services, but the Spencers just assumed she would go. She made no protest, for she was anxious to meet more of her neighbors.

  She dressed carefully for the occasion, wearing what she considered one of her simpler dresses. It was a linen dress of royal blue with a square neck and long sleeves and a snug bodice decorated with a single green ribbon bow.

  Both Hannah and her mother wore even plainer dresses, and when they got into the wagon she was not surprised to see Sion wearing what he always wore, a pair of lightweight gray trousers and a white shirt. He had acquired a hat from either Hawk or Josh, and now it was pulled forward on his head. Sabrina smiled at him, and he nodded in return.

  They made the trip into the town and found the church surrounded by wagons, carriages, and horses. People were talking and shaking hands as they made their way into the church. The building was made of logs, as was every other building in the village.

  As Sion got out of the saddle, Hannah said, “Come along. I’ll introduce you to the pastor, Sion.”

  Sion followed her into the building, noticing that everyone’s eyes were upon him and Sabrina. “Everyone’s looking at us,” he whispered.

  “We don’t get too many strangers here. Come along. There’s Rev. Anderson.”

  The two went up to a man of middle size whose brown hair was turning gray, but his eyes were young. “Rev. Anderson, this is Sion Kenyon. He’s Miss Fairfax’s servant. He’s been anxious to come and hear you preach. He’s from Wales.”

  “From Wales, is it?” Paul Anderson smiled. “Well, I understand they have great preachers there. I doubt you’ll hear anything that eloquent from me.”

  “Glad I am to know you, Reverend.”

  They had no time for talk, for it was time for the service. Sion found himself guided to one of the pews near the front by Hannah, and they were joined by her parents.

  Sabrina took in the interior of the church, which was rough indeed. The seats were all split logs with the flat side turned upward and supported by legs made of saplings. The log walls were unpainted, and there were only four windows in the entire structure. They were, as a matter of fact, the first real glass windows she had seen in any building, save the Spencers’ house. She had discovered that glass windows were a mark of extreme prosperity. Even now before the service, the room was filled with talk, and many of the men were smoking. She even saw one old woman puffing away at a corncob pipe.

  “We’re fortunate to have a regular pastor,” Elizabeth said to Sabrina. “Some settlements have to wait for weeks or even months for an itinerant preacher to come by.”

  Even as she was speaking, a tall, thin man got up and said, “We’re ready for the service to begin. We’ll start by singing ‘Old Hundredth.’”

  Sabrina did not know the hymn, and she was surprised to see that there was no musical accompaniment whatsoever. Everyone sang loudly, and as the service progressed, she was surprised at how hymns were sung. The song leader would sing the first line, and then the congregation would join him in singing it together. Then he would sing the second line, which would then be sung.

  “That’s called ‘lining out’ the hymns,” Elizabeth whispered to her. “I’d never seen it done before I came here.”

  The song service went on for a considerable length of time. An offering was taken, and numerous announcements were made. Finally Rev. Anderson got up and began to speak. From time to time during the sermon Sabrina would glance at Sion, who appeared to be drinking in the man’s words. As for Sabrina herself, she had not paid attention to a sermon in years. She had sat through the high church services out of habit, but something about Anderson’s preaching held her. He was talking about the woman taken in adultery, and when he spoke of the compassion of Jesus, his voice almost broke.

  Why, he’s almost ready to weep! Sabrina saw with astonishment. She had never been so affected by the Scriptures, but as she sat there, she became aware that there was a reality to the religion of this man of God that she was not accustomed to. Glancing around, she saw that the worshipers were drinking in his words. Many times there were shouts of “Amen” or “Hallelujah” or “Praise God,” which startled her at first, but gradually she became accustomed to it. Finally the pastor invited those who were not saved to come forward, and she was surprised to see six people stand and leave their seats. They were greeted by the pastor and then several of the men—leaders of the church evidently—began to pray with them. This went on for some time, and finally one woman who had gone forward began to shout.

  “What’s wrong with her, Elizabeth?” Sabrina whispered.

  “Nothing is wrong. She’s just come through. That’s Hetty Sanders. She’s been seeking now for nearly six months.”

  “Seeking what?”

  Elizabeth turned with surprise in her eyes. “Why, seeking God, of course. Haven’t you ever seen that before?”

  Sabrina did not answer, for this was far outside of her experience. After the service was over she went outside and met a great many people, most of them whose names she could not remember. The majority of them were rather poorly dressed farmers, but she met one young man who was different.

  “Miss Fairfax, may I introduce Mr. Drake Hammond.”

  Drake Hammond was a tall man in his midtwenties with light blond hair and gray eyes. He was better dressed than most of the worshipers, and his manners displayed at least some culture.

  “I’m happy to know you, Miss Fairfax, and to welcome you to Tennessee Country.”

  “It’s good to meet you, sir,” Sabrina said. She extended her hand, and he took it and bent over it. “I hope we may expect you to become a settled member of the community.”

  “I trust so.”

  She had no more time to continue the conversation, for others were crowding in to meet her, but on the way home she mentioned him to Elizabeth and Hawk, who sat beside her on the wagon seat. “Who is Drake Hammond?”

  Hawk laughed. “I thought he might catch your eye, but be careful. He’s a ladies’ man.”

  “Be quiet, Hawk. He’s the son of a wealthy man.” She smiled, adding, “He is quite a ladies’ man.”

  “I reckon he is.” Hawk grinned. “Mothers lock their girls up when he comes around. You be careful, Miss Fairfax.”

  Sabrina smiled. “I don’t think I have to worry about that.”

  “How did you like the preacher?” Hawk asked.

  “I have never heard anyone like him. He’s so earnest.”

  “He’s that, all right. We’re lucky to have a man of God like that for our pastor.”

  Sabrina could not forget the sermon nor the way it had affected her. She had always thought religion was a set of rules to be kept, and she had kept most of them on a fairly regular basis. But something in her was whispering that this
was not all there was to it, and it troubled her.

  ****

  One of the chores Sion set himself to was splitting logs. Hawk Spencer had told him that it would be necessary to fence in the horses to keep the bears and even the panthers away from them. He had watched Hawk and Josh split a few logs one morning, and that afternoon he decided to split some himself. He borrowed an ax, went into the woods, and cut down a tree. When he had sawed it off to the proper length, he took the wedge and began trying to split the log. He soon discovered that splitting logs was not as easy as it looked. He struggled all morning and made pretty much a wreck of the wedge and the maul.

  Hawk Spencer came in from the fields and took one look at him. “It looks like you bit off more than you can chew, Sion.”

  Sion shook his head and flexed his hands. “I thought it was a matter of strength, but this wood just won’t split.”

  “You got the wrong kind. It’s a sweet gum. It’ll never split. Come along. I’ve got a white oak here. Let me show you.”

  Sion followed Hawk to where a tree had been cut down and sawed off. Hawk took the iron wedge and set it in the large end of the log. With a few blows it sank in, and suddenly with a ripping sound the log fell into two pieces.

  “White oak is easy to split. Here, you try splitting these halves up.”

  Sion took the wedge and the maul, and after getting it started he was gratified to see the halves split open.

  “It’s all in knowing what to do, isn’t it? I’ve got a lot to learn in this country.”

  “You’ll make it. You just have to have a little education. Here, let’s see how many rails we can make out of this tree.”

  In less than two hours the two had finished between forty and fifty rails. Sion said, “You’re right, sir, it’s knowing what to do,” shaking his head.

  They were loading the split logs when a man rode into the clearing. Sion was startled to see that the newcomer was an Indian.

  “This is Sequatchie,” Hawk said as the man came off his horse and moved forward. “Sequatchie, this is our new neighbor, Sion Kenyon.”

  “I’m glad to know you,” Sequatchie said and put his hand forward.

  “I’m happy to know you,” Sion said with a nod. The tall stranger wore a pair of simple trousers and a gray chambray shirt. His hair was black without a tinge of gray or white, but he was an older man, Sion could see. This was the first Indian he had ever come in contact with, but he had heard from Hawk what a good friend Sequatchie had been to him in his younger days. “Hawk is teaching me how to split logs. I’m afraid I must be the most ignorant man in Tennessee Country.”

  Sequatchie’s eyes glinted. “There’s hope for a man who knows his ignorance. What did you do back in your home country?”

  “I was a farmer and a coal miner.”

  “You dug coal out of the earth?” Hawk said with interest. “That’s a job I’d hate to have. I can’t stand to be cooped up.”

  “It’s not a job I wanted to do for a lifetime, but I had little choice.”

  The men talked for a while, and Sequatchie finally smiled, and a glad light came to his eyes. “Fox is on his way home.”

  “He is? Well, it’s about time.” Hawk turned to Sion and said, “He’s talking about his nephew, his sister’s son. Nathanael Carter is his American name, but his Indian name is Fox.”

  “I’ll be glad to see him,” Sequatchie said.

  “Do you suppose he settled that business of his plantation back in Virginia?”

  “He was anxious to do something with it. It’s been a trouble to him for years now.”

  Sion did not understand a great deal of this, but when Sequatchie left, he asked Hawk, “So Fox is half Indian and half American?”

  “Yes.”

  Hawk did not speak for a time, and then he shrugged. “Elizabeth and I have thought that Hannah might marry Fox one day.”

  “Will that be a problem having an Indian in the family?”

  “No. Not in the least. He’s a fine man.”

  ****

  Sabrina was getting an education, just as Sion was. She had never taken thought in her life to such a thing as a broom. To her, brooms were something to be bought at a store—or something that a servant might buy. But Hannah had been engaged in making a broom, which fascinated Sabrina. She watched as Hannah took a hickory sapling and split thin pieces down the outside of the trunk with a jackknife. She bent them back and held them down with her other hand, and when there was no more flexible wood, she sawed off the central part of the trunk. The splits then turned back to their original places and were tied to the toe string. Hannah smoothed the handle down and said with a smile, “Behold, a broom!”

  “I’m afraid I’d cut my fingers off if I tried that.”

  “Oh, not likely. Come along. We’re going to make soap today.”

  “Make soap! Does everyone do that?”

  “Yes, of course. It doesn’t grow on trees, you know. It’ll be inconvenient for you, but you’ll learn.”

  The soapmaking was a tedious chore, but Sabrina was determined to learn all she could. She discovered that Hannah and her family had been saving meat scraps of all kinds during the year to be used for soap. She learned also that the lye was obtained by leaching ashes. She watched as Hannah poured water over a hopper made out of boards forming a V-shaped receptacle with a crack at the bottom. When the water dripped through the ashes down into the trough, it soaked the alkali from the ashes, and this brown liquid was strong enough to make soap. It was poured over the grease and gently boiled until it reached a ropy consistency.

  “I always put something sweet in it to make it smell good,” Hannah said. “I saved a little perfume that my folks gave me for my birthday two years ago.” She found the small bottle, poured it into the bubbling mass, and stirred it zealously.

  Finally Hannah poured the soap into a pan, and when it was cool she cut it into squares as if it were a cake. She carefully took out one square with the blade of her knife and said, “Now, when we get ready to wash our hair we’ll have some nice sweet-smelling soap.”

  During this whole process Hannah had asked many questions about Sabrina’s life in England but many more about Sion. She had heard some of the story but insisted on hearing it again. Finally she gave Sabrina a curious look and said, “That’s a romantic story—just like a novel.”

  “I suppose it is.”

  Hannah chewed her lip thoughtfully, as she often did. “Maybe you’ll marry him. That would really be like a novel.”

  Sabrina straightened up and fastened her eyes on Hannah with surprise. “Me, marry a servant! Don’t be foolish, Hannah, of course I won’t!”

  This outburst took Hannah off guard, and she shook her head slightly but said no more about it.

  Joshua came running into the cabin, and Sabrina looked up with surprise. “What’s wrong, Josh? When did you get in?” Josh had been gone for over two weeks.

  “Just now. Andy Jackson is with me. Let me tell you what happened. Mr. Jackson is serving as circuit court judge in Jonesboro,” he said, his eyes sparkling. “There was a man called Russell Bean who had beaten a man badly. He got indicted, and the officers went to arrest him, but they couldn’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because when they went to get him he was standing in front of his house with a rifle and a pistol. He said he’d kill the first man who approached his house.”

  Sabrina had never heard of such a thing. “Well, what happened?”

  “The sheriff went to tell Jackson about it, and Jackson, right off, ordered the sheriff to bring Bean in dead or alive if he had to summon every man in the courthouse.” He laughed, saying, “The sheriff said, ‘Then I summon your honor first.’”

  “What did Mr. Jackson do?”

  “Why, he said, ‘By the eternal, I’ll bring him!’ He grabbed his pistol, and a bunch went with him just to see what he’d do.”

  “Well, what did he do?”

  “Do? What did Andy Jackson do?
Why, you’d better believe he arrested Bean. But I asked him to come out here and talk to you about your land. Come on. I want you to meet him.”

  Sabrina followed Josh outside to where she saw a tall, very thin man with a bushy head of hair and a long, craggy face getting off his horse.

  “Andrew, this is our new neighbor, Miss Sabrina Fairfax. Miss Fairfax, Mr. Andrew Jackson. He’s teaching me about the law.”

  Jackson had a rather hard-looking face, but his eyes were kind enough. He bowed gallantly and spoke in a high-pitched voice. “I’m happy to make your acquaintance. Josh here has told me a lot about you.”

  “Come inside, sir. There’s some fresh milk, I believe.”

  “Any buttermilk? I’m downright partial to buttermilk.”

  “I believe so,” Sabrina said. She went inside, followed by the two men, and when they sat down at the table she brought them both glasses of buttermilk.

  Jackson drank the milk, wiped his lips with his sleeve, and plunged right away into an explanation of the situation concerning Sabrina’s land.

  “I’ve done some work on the title, and I’ve got some letters out that I’m waiting for responses to. That’ll take a while. What bothers me most is Caleb Files.”

  “Who is he, sir?”

  “He’s a man who’s made quite a name for himself for grabbing land. He’s out to get all he can. He’s bought a lot of people out, and some he tied up in court until they had to sell.”

  “Well, what does that have to do with me, Mr. Jackson?”

  “Well, he’s filed a claim on your land. I don’t think it’ll stand up, but he has enough money to wait people out.”

  “I have no other choice, sir. That land is my only hope. I hope you can help me.”

  Andy Jackson leaned back in his chair, and when his coat fell away she saw the pistol stuck in his belt. “I’ll do the best I can for you. This young fellow here”—he waved toward Josh—“has told me you need help, and by the eternal I’ll give it to you. We’ll see Caleb Files in purgatory before he gets a foot of your land.”