Anne's Story

Greetings to all who may be interested,

I am Anne Bailey, born 1742 in Liverpool England, I traveled to this country, settled outside of Staunton, Virginia, married Richard Trotter and had a son we named William. October 10, 1774 my life was irrevocably changed when my dearest husband was killed at the battle of Point Pleasant. I found myself unable to take care of William, our  son was only seven year old when I gave him up to the care of a neighboring family, Mrs. and Mr. Moses Mann. 

"Coming Home No More" by John Buxton

Thus doubly grieved, I set out on my own to recruit men to fight against first the red devils who plagued us on the frontier and later against the red coats - Yes, my own country men! Over time I became known and admired as a huntress, a spy and scout. 

Image by Harold Jerrell

I was reputed to have been an Indian killer, a charge I'll neither credit nor deny.

Image with Tim Jarvis

I had the short lived pleasure of marrying again, to a Ranger named John Bailey. my happiness was, as I said short lived. 

Image with Kendall Thomson

In 1791 Fort Lee was under attack by the Shawnee, I shall never forget Colonel Clendenen announcing to the assembled men and women forted up within the safety of the fort's walls, that we were out of gun powder - the powder magazine was empty! 

"Defiance" by Steve White

I waited to hear one strong young man volunteer to travel the nearly 100 miles to Fort Savannah in Lewisburg, but none did! Finally, I stepped forward and offered to make the dangerous ride. many who were there recall me saying I trusted in the Almighty, could only be killed once and I had to die sometime! I made that ride, all two hundred miles, alone at nearly fifty years old!

I returned to the cheers and cries of Huzzah huzzah huzzah, we fought off those damn Indians and Fort Lee was saved! 

Image by Harold Jerrell

Later, they changed the name of Fort Lee to Charlestown and the great territory of Virginia was divided to include West Virginia and of course you know Charleston became the capital. My life was never easy, my dearest John Bailey was murdered, taken away from me too soon. I was still delivering messages and letters when the Treaty of Greenville was signed and we were told the Indian Wars were over. hmph! over? How is a war ever over when everything you've had and everything you've loved has been lost in that war? 

Image by Harold Jerrell

In any case ,one must make their way, and so I did. You may have even heard tell of my delivering a gaggle of domesticated geese to the Kanawah Valley? Indeed, times were tough, I told my tale of sorrow at many a home trading stories for a dram of whiskey, i do love my whiskey! I've even been known to indulge is a bout or tow of pugilism. 

In my late 70s I made a home of sorts in a cave near 13 mile creek and there I stayed, making the local folk come to me if they wanted a tale of sorrow for the trade of a bit of bread or a wee dram. It was while living there in that wretched cave in 1818 my William came back to me. You see he had never forgotten his mother. He begged me to come to the Ohio Valley to join him and his family. ahhh, a family. I had grandchildren!! dear little ones to spend my last years with.

Image by Luann Houser

Image by Harold Jerrell

I left the beautiful Kanawha River Valley for Gallipolis in the Ohio Valley. William and I built a tiny little cabin for me to live in. I lived for a few very happy years within the loving comfort of my family. On November 22, 1825 I climbed into my bed with two of my beautiful granddaughters and finally went to rest in peace.