“Unfortunately, Sir, the land laws are confusing, in a constant state of flux, and poorly understood. This has led to many misunderstandings and armed conflicts. We established four courts to hear land disputes at Harrodstown, Louisville, Bryant’s Station, and here at Boonesborough. These courts have done much good, but the settlement of the state has been so rapid, we continue to exist in a state of chaotic confusion. Settlers have claimed and reclaimed, surveyed and resurveyed, patented and repatented, scores of highly desirable tracts. Not only have numerous acrimonious disputes occurred, many are unfortunately resolved only with bloodshed. Countless are still unresolved.”
“Hell,” Stephen said, expressing in one word his disappointment and frustration.
Their troubles seemed to multiply with each new day, but Sam refused to succumb to apprehension.
“Might I advise you, gentlemen, to take a look at Nelson County? It’s still quite rough, but prime land is still available there,” he suggested. “You’d travel there going due west to Harrodsburg, established in ’74 by James Harrod. The area is quite prosperous, with six gristmills in operation for the corn and other grains raised in the area. Harrod’s men constructed Fort Harrod west of Big Spring on the hill, to be safe from flooding. The fortress offers protection for settlers until they can get their own homes built. It’s one of the largest in Kentucky with more defenders and ammunition than Boonesborough or Logan’s Station. Harrodsburg is located in the bluegrass region and has three warm mineral springs. Settlers seem to thrive there.”
Sam began to wonder if someone paid the man to steer new settlers in that direction.
“Or you could try to get a grant south of the Green River. Until recently, no person could enter a survey within this great area except a soldier. As soon as Kentucky became a state, new legislation opened up the area south of the Green River to any persons possessed of a family and over twenty-one years of age. Such persons are entitled to not less than 100 acres and not more than 200 acres. But, you must be bona fide settlers living on the land and improving it for one year before you come into actual possession.”
The Commissioner described both areas in detail, showing it to them on the map, and gave them a list of sites still available that might meet their needs and be reasonably safe from Indian attacks. “Be sure to mark your boundaries by chopping notches into witness trees, and file your papers as soon as possible,” Simmons said.
They left with instructions for the patent process and a rough map to Nelson County, less than a week away, about 75 miles due west of Boonesborough on the waters of the Salt River. In addition to describing Harrodsburg, Commissioner Simmons told them about Bardstown, the town just beyond Harrodsburg. The seat of Justice for Nelson County, the well-established town was also the home of Cedar Creek Church, organized in 1781. Furthermore, at present, the town boasted elegant homes, posh inns, and reputable learning institutions. Best of all, Simmons described the land around Bardstown as lush rolling verdant pastures, punctuated by stands of Oaks and Walnut trees.
As they left Simmons’ office, Sam could tell Stephen was still worried and would likely remain anxious until he secured his acreage.
“Sounds like we’re headed further west,” Sam said, trying his best to sound optimistic.
“Sam, why were ye so disturbed about the Bounty Grant?” Bear asked. “Ye did na care about land when we started this trip.”
“It’s the principal of the thing. Besides, a man can change what it is he cares about,” he said.
“Looks like we’ll have to keep moving,” Stephen said.
“As long as we do na fall out of the saddle, we’ll still get there,” Bear said.
“That depends on how stout a horse you’re riding,” Stephen countered. “And if it gets hit by lightning.”
Sam shuddered at the recollection of his near encounter with death from a lightning bolt that killed his horse on their trip here. “No one said this was going to be easy. The future belongs to those willing to go after it,” Sam said.
“You’re right,” Stephen agreed.
“Wait here for me a moment. I’m goin’ in this shop to buy some tobacco and a new whetstone for Catherine,” Bear said. “She needs one to sharpen her wee dagger.”
Sam scowled as Bear turned and went into the general store, the Scotsman’s big body taking up the entire entryway.
“Speaking of Catherine, why did you suddenly turn cold towards her?” Stephen asked. “Every time she’s anywhere around, your face clouds with uneasiness.”
Sam crossed his arms and frowned, surprised by Stephen’s question. He tried to manage a feeble answer, but all he could come up with was, “I don’t want to discuss the matter.”
“If you weren’t so damn independent, you’d realize what a blind fool you’re being.”
“I said, I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, louder this time.
“You have a chance at happiness, Sam, don’t miss it.”
“Damn it, Stephen, mind your own business.”
“This is my business,” Stephen pressed.
“How the hell do you figure that?”
“Two reasons. I told her she was welcome to stay with us and you’re my brother.”
“She stays with us only until she can find a home of her own.”
“If you don’t make a move soon, Bear will,” Stephen said.
Sam glowered at his brother. “If that’s what she wants, so be it.”
“She scares you, doesn’t she?” Stephen asked. “You’ve fought the bloody British when you were outnumbered ten to one, you’ve fought swarms of natives with nothing but your knife between you and a gruesome death, and you’ve faced bears and mountain lions like they were dogs and house cats, but you can’t face her. She scares the hell out of you and you’re too stubborn to admit it.” Stephen stared at him, a haughty rebuke on his face.
Scowling at his brother, he smoldered for a bit before responding. “All right, she scares me. I am not used to being scared. It’s something I don’t do well. You’re a fine one to condemn stubbornness. You’d take on the fires of hell with no more than a water bucket.”
“And you’d lead the way,” Stephen retorted. “You realize she loves you? I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”
Sam didn’t say anything. His insides rolled like the clouds above them. He turned his head slowly to look at Stephen. He felt as if lightning struck him again. He could feel his throat closing up and he found it difficult to even speak. “I…thought she…,” he hesitated, “I thought she wanted Bear.”
“The way a woman acts is often a poor indicator of what she actually wants—sometimes it’s the opposite of what appears obvious. I know it is confusing and can befuddle a man, believe me I know. Women are just not as plain to figure as men are. Like horses, you have to understand their nature to get them to work with you, not against you. In fact, women can be very much like horses. For instance, they prefer a gentle voice and a soft easy touch. There are many other similarities, but I’m getting sidetracked. If Catherine paid attention to Bear, it was just to see if you would rise to the competition, but her real target is you.”
A warning voice whispered in his head, arousing old fears and uncertainties. “How do you figure that?”
“Because you two are like two sides of the same coin,” Stephen said. “Don’t be afraid of her. You’re a bigger man than that. Whatever is holding you back is not as important as she is.”
Stephen was right. Could he tell that warning voice inside him to shut the hell up?
“Remember what you told all of us once when we were trying to decide whether we should make this journey—all life involves risk. That is especially true of love. This risk is yours to take if you have the courage,” Stephen added with emphasis.
Sam remained quiet for a moment, and then as casually as he could manage said, “I’ll be right back. I need to buy a new razor. I think it’s time for a shave.”
Chapter 17
Over
the next couple of days, the men decided they should assume their legal problems would eventually be resolved, and Sam told them that they should restock their supplies to prepare for their journey further west, towards Nelson County.
They bought powder and ball, always in short supply, but the shop owner had just received a shipment the day before. They also bought a supply wagon and filled it with saws, augurs, braces, chisels, planes, squares, and other tools and building materials that they would need to establish homesteads once they found land. Lastly, with nearly a dozen horses to care for, they bought a good supply of oats and grain.
This morning, Sam went with Stephen to patronize several of the town’s other shops. His brother bought Jane a new delicate teacup and saucer made in England, some tea, and two new high-waisted gowns that would more comfortably accommodate her rapidly expanding stomach, one practical and one just because he liked it. He said she would look gorgeous in it. For Martha and Polly, Stephen found new dolls.
Sam bought himself a new white linen shirt. The weather was warming up and it would be cooler than the buckskin he was wearing, he rationalized.
“That shirt will make you look like a proper gentleman,” Stephen teased after Sam had made the purchase. “Never thought to see you wearing one.”
Irritated by his brother’s mocking tone, he scowled and wondered if Stephen thought he had bought the new shirt to impress Catherine. Well, what if he did? How he dressed was his own business. His mouth twisted with exasperation as he ambled over to the store’s knife display.
“I’m looking for a small boy’s knife,” he told the man behind the counter.
The pudgy man wearing spectacles on his long nose pointed to a knife in his display case and said, “That one there once belonged to Daniel Boone when he was a young man.”
He thought the shopkeeper might be capitalizing on Boone’s reputation, but Sam liked the idea enough to buy it anyway and surprised Little John with it later that morning.
The majority of the next few hours, Little John just stared at the knife and showed it to anyone who would look at it. He got Sam to show him how to use it again and again and he patiently obliged his nephew, remembering how excited he had been when his father gave him his first knife.
While Sam spent time with Little John, John went to town to find out where church services would be held on Sunday. He learned that Boonesborough had no preacher but the local congregation met occasionally in the schoolhouse whenever a circuit preacher came through town.
“No town should be without a church. It’s like a man without a soul,” John told Sam when he got back.
Sam had met a few soulless men over the years.
At once, John started planning a church building. It would have a tall white steeple with a bell that people would be able to hear for miles. John had no idea how he would finance the construction and hoped that someone would donate the land and perhaps the congregation could help with the building materials. John could pay for a small part, but not all of it, and would donate his services as architect and builder.
Sam thought it would be a good way for John to demonstrate his skills to the people of Boonesborough. The growing town would generate a building boom in the coming years.
After the noon meal, Sam went to town again with William to talk to as many people as they could about the buffalo hunters. However, it soon became obvious the townspeople were afraid of the evil hunters and although they were grateful to the Wyllies for giving the hunters a good thrashing, they were reluctant to talk.
Sam and William did learn that the six hunters also traded in whiskey, drank a good deal of their own supply, and supplied a constant source of trouble. They often provoked fights and people suspected their leader, Frank Foley, in at least one unsolved murder.
What surprised Sam the most was what Lucky McGintey had to say after he and William encountered the old fellow on Boonesborough’s main road, pulling a packhorse loaded with fresh kills. From the looks of it, Lucky’s luck as a hunter had not run out. He’d provide fresh meat for many of Boonesborough’s residents that night.
“They couldn’t beat you men in a real fight so now they’ll try to beat you in the courtroom. Sometimes the law works against honest men, as it did with Boone. You’ll need to find some way to discredit Frank Foley and I think I know just the way. About a day’s ride north of here live a couple of Irish brothers named O’Reilly. One of them, Jonathan, is a friend of mine. He swears he saw Foley lead the British to his militia, resulting in the death of many of them.”
“Why hasn’t he turned Foley into the militia here?” Sam asked Lucky.
“He’s afraid to say anything about it ‘cause he thinks Foley would kill him or his brother, or have the other buffalo hunters kill them both.”
“Jonathan’s right, Foley would,” William said.
Sam understood that the Revolutionary War confused and blurred the lines of loyalty for many men. Most colonists found the milk of mother England bitter, while others wanted to keep suckling off a familiar tit even if it was hard to swallow. But traitors were different. They chose sides for profit or gain, not loyalty. Often, men became traitors to save their own skin.
Frank Foley might be as bad as Eli Frazier, the man he had sought to kill for so many years.
William responded to Lucky, “I doubt the fellow helped the Red Coats out of loyalty to the Crown or because he predicted the British would ultimately win. Based on our experiences with Foley, I suspect the man became a traitor for the great motivator—greed.”
“Men like him betray their fellow man for a few pieces of silver,” Sam said.
The three agreed that getting Jonathan O’Reilly to testify would be imperative.
On the way back to camp, William asked Sam if he remembered seeing any British scouts who looked like the buffalo hunters’ leader.
“Hiding behind all that hair and filth, it’s hard to tell what the man actually looks like,” Sam said. “And, of course, a man’s appearance can change a lot in fifteen or more years.” He paused as something just sprang into his mind from the distant past. “I do remember that several men taken prisoners by the enemy became scouts for the British. Damn turncoat traitors, every one of them should rot in hell.”
“If he’s one of them, maybe we can make sure this one does. What if we get all that hair off of him?” William asked.
“How can we do that? You want me to give him a shave?” Sam yanked his knife out and held it up to his own black beard, still unshaven. After they left New Hampshire, he and Bear had both let their beards grow, while Stephen, John, and William had done their best to remain clean-shaven. He had bought a razor a couple of days ago but had not yet used it. Something made him hesitate. If he did shave, he wondered if Catherine would notice.
“No, you might shave the bastard a bit too close and ‘hurt his feelings.’ I’ll ask the Judge to order the man shaved.”
“Would he?” Sam asked, incredulous.
“If it meant identifying a turncoat, the judge should be willing.”
“Even if I could identify him, it would still be his word against mine.”
“Not if we get that settler Lucky told us about to come back and testify too.”
“Do we have enough time to get O’Reilly to Boonesborough? Do you think he would come? Lucky said he was afraid to testify.”
“We could get the Judge to talk to the witness privately. And, yes, I think we have just enough time to go get him if we hurry. Bear or John could go get him. You and Stephen can’t leave, and I have to stay in case the trial starts, since you both want me to defend you. I still think you should get a lawyer.”
“We can’t trust a stranger. Besides, you might as well be a lawyer as well as you know the law.”
“Knowing the law and practicing the law in a courtroom are two different things. Like knowing how to shoot a gun and being able to hit something with one. Nevertheless, I promised you I would do it and I will. Just pray my aim is true.”
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Sam and William told the others of their plan. After considerable debate, they decided that John should be the one to fetch the settler. John argued that he wanted to do his part to help. And all of them, including John, wanted Bear to be the one to guard the women and children while Sam, Stephen, and William were in town at the trial. Other than Sam, Bear was the most competent fighter among them, and if some of the hunters tried to attack the women while the trial of going on, they would be safer with Bear there.
Jane maintained that she and the other women were quite capable of guarding their camp without a man to protect them. “We’re close to town and besides we are not helpless women who must be guarded constantly,” she said. “I can guard the camp, especially with Catherine and Kelly’s help. Catherine has already proven she can take care of herself and Kelly knows how to shoot. She had to hunt her own meat out there where she lived. And we’ve taught Martha how to load and fire a weapon if she had to.”
“You are as far from helpless as the east is from the west. I know you can shoot as well as the rest of us, except maybe Sam, nobody can beat him, but these despicable men have no honor and do not fight fair, even with men. No telling what they might do to you women just to spite us. I’ll not take that chance,” Stephen said. “Bear stays here.”
“But it’s late in the day, he should at least wait until morning,” Jane said.
“I agree, leaving now is far from ideal,” William said, “but we need that witness to get here as soon as possible. He can’t wait. He has to go now.”
John quickly gathered up his weapons and some cold biscuits and dried meat. He got the detailed instructions supplied by Lucky to the O’Reilly farm and prepared to leave. He embraced Little John and then mounted his horse.
Sam silently prayed it would not be the last time his brother would hug his child.
It was a somber camp after John left. They all realized the importance of his success, and the risk he was taking. No trip into the wilderness was without risk, and traveling alone made the risk even higher.
Romancing the Wilderness: American Wilderness Series Boxed Bundle Books 1 - 3 Page 42
