"...I trusted in the Almighty… I knew I could only be killed once,
and I had to die sometime."
-Anne Bailey, 1823

Tuesday, May 17

The Next Chapter

17, May
Dearest ones,
It is my great regret not to have written of all the many happenings of the month past. I humbly beg your forgiveness. Perhaps you’ll grant it when my tale today is done?

Those who are closest to me know of the sadness which has filled my heart these many months.  My morose countenance was only bested by the melancholy nature of my writing.  My dearest ones, I beg your indulgence as I write of things which weighed heavily upon my heart and mind.

Many months ago a parting of company took place. A parting from which I thought I’d readily recover. Yet, day after day, it pulled on my heart and brought naught but sorrow to me.  The breaking of my heart was of my own doing, yet knowledge of my reasons made it not one bit easier to abide.  Och, who here among you has not chosen wrongly? Yet, how few are granted the chance to make it right?

My dearest held on. Aye, held on with strong hands, a sharp mind and an open heart.  Our daily correspondence became the ties which bind; his words were matched by his deeds and when asked a small question with no words, my heart and my lips flew to his.

T’is my greatest pleasure to share with you, we shan’t be parted so readily again.  One knows not what the future holds, yet of this I am certain; we shall face it together as partners, separate yet equal, stronger each by the other, with grace, humor (much humor!) and humility.  I forsake imperiousness, eschew ego and offer nothing but myself.

My friends, your listening ears have given me strength, your words of kindness have been heartfelt and your prayers on our behalf have been heard.  To say a simple thank you seems impossibly inept, yet there are no other words to offer you.  I most humbly and sincerely thank you. Thank you. Thank you!
The words I wish to say to my dearest Mr. Mains are private and shan’t be shared even with the closest of you. But know ye, they begin with “I am sorry,” and end with “I love you.”

Suzanne

Sunday, March 27

Cairns

    A Letter!
    "27 March
    Dearest Anne,
    Whilst traveling in the far west I had the fortune to travel a pathway defined by rock cairns. These wonders of western travel are created by travelers stacking rocks one upon another. They are a symbol to guide those who would otherwise not know the way.
    Each magnificent rock cairn is devised by the strength and knowledge of many, the power of one, and a careful balance of similar but differing objects. Traveling unknown paths with the assistance of these stately sisters lends me comfort without distraction, care without smothering and an understanding others have traveled these roads, each leaving their mark. As I travel the paths of my future I seek these simple structures and pause to add my own small stones. Each stone I name, as I place it atop its sisters; Balance, Strength, Unity, Care and Concern. Gently each stone stacks upon another, held in place not only by its own symmetry, but by the oddities of those which have been placed before.
    There are however times when even the gentlest hand placed most lovingly and carefully causes the whole cairn to crumble and the process must begin again. Not by the hand of one, but by many who must assemble a new structure stone by stone each placed in their own time and manner.
    Dear friend, I know it is hard to imagine a land so free of trees that markings are not easily made in our usual manner, but I must tell you of the remarkable beauty such expanses hold. I take great comfort in knowing God fills the spaces we cannot. These small cairns seem to be reminders we are not alone in our travels and there will always be some manner of knowing the right path.
    Be well and safe in your own travels dear one, I know you are off to Pricketts Fort in the next days. Give our best to those who know us.
    Your loving friend,
    Suzanne"

Sunday, February 6

A walk alone



Once more the sky reflects a grim visage and the world beyond my small cabin seems quite gray. Though I have been in the company of good friends these days passed, I cannot help but feel quite alone. Perhaps t'is but a mindset, yet in truth, is fact.




I set forth for the Spring Mill in the early hours amid gathering snow clouds. Within minutes snow poured from the sky in chunks large as your fist settling quickly upon rock, tree, and trail.
Traveling became difficult and our progress was greatly slowed; regardless I came to the destined place and joined with others of the Seven Years War Organization. T'was with true pleasure I encountered the Parson and dear Maggie.
Though there was but a small crowd of people about, the Parson once more insisted upon Maggie that she tell her tale of the years since she left her dear Ireland.

I cannot begin to give justice in my words to the depth of Maggie's story of woe and strife, and once more I found myself unable to staunch the flow of tears. Perhaps t'was this tale which caused me to be morose in my own thoughts, for afterward I felt quite unfit for the company of others and set off from the lodge for a walk in the crisp winter air.

Foolishly leaving my rifle behind, I set out to wandering the nearby hillside. Not wishing to sully my dancing shoes for the evening to come, I wore my favorite wool lined moccasins which, though quite warm, gave no purchase for footing upon the layer of ice which crusted over the snow.










Still, the cool air upon my wet cheeks felt good and the exertion of a fast walk was good not only for me physically, it began to clear my mind as well. I took time to observe the beauty in which I was surrounded and took great joy in Mother Nature's handiwork.



Quite enthralled with my study of the area I gave less attention to my footing and was brought quite suddenly back to reality as my feet lurched out from under me and I began to slide down the hill. Surely then didn't I wish I'd worn more beneath my petticoats! Ice and snow gathered up as far as the waistband of my wool petticoats and quickly began to melt between my shift and skin leaving me quite literally chilled to the bone, not to mention quite certain I'd have blue and black reminders of this little trip for days to come.

Further, and of much - MUCH greater immediate concern was the sound which accompanied my fall. A sound of such depth and ferocity I knew exactly from whence it had come, a cougar! Reports had been made of such a creature in the vicinity and hearing it so close by set my heart racing! Knowing as I do, the tendency of these animals not to stalk their prey, but rather to lay in wait along an active game trail with the intent of taking opportunity as it presents itself; I suddenly felt as though I'd presented myself as an opportunity!

Picking myself up, brushing the snow off the best I was able, I checked the location of my knives, realizing they were my only protection. I set off with great purpose in my steps returning quickly to the lodge, feeling as though I'd had perhaps a closer brush with nature than intended!

Returning to my cozy room within the lodge, I replaced the sodden wool petticoats and shortgown with a pretty polonaise gown, dressed my hair and appeared just in time for dinner and gala. Having neither escort nor dance partner, and still feeling a bit of the earlier melancholy I did not stay late into the evening. Early this morning we conducted our business affairs, I acting as proxy for Captain Wulff on behalf of Wulff's Rangers and upon conclusion of our congress, I returned home to my cabin, once more alone.




Tuesday, January 25

Vivication

Snow lies upon frozen ground while dense fog gathers all into its ethereal grasp
and all seems lost within the gloom.




Yet, just beneath the surface, nestled within the fragrant soil, a tiny seed stretches forth,
hair like tendrils grasp and take hold



Above, grey clouds disperse and the suns warming rays burn through the fog and melt the dingy remnants of snow

Cool water seeps and sifts through the soil and drenches the tiny seed in nutrients
the hard outer shell breaks free of the seed and new life springs forth

Wednesday, January 12

Snowflakes and Diamonds

16, January

My Dearest Friends,

There is no doubt the harshness of the winter season has set in with force. A strong constitution is surely required to withstand the onslaught these freezing winds and snow. One can barely recall the heat of summer or the golden days of autumn.

Memories slip through my mind of the past year and many shining times. More so now than ever before, I feel shining times are like snowflakes and diamonds, they melt quickly away and their memories last forever. Och, we are too caught up in the darkness of winter's drear!

We must take heart, for soon we shall travel to Fort deChartes in the company of our dear friend Mistress Storey to join a small gathering of like minded women. No doubt there shall be much laughter, entertainments and food to warm our hearts and fill our bellies! Further, the 29th a grand ball is to be held at the Fraizer along the banks of the Ohio. To this fine festivity Miss Katherine and I shall go, likely staying once more with our friends Mr. Medley and Miss Becky.

A glance toward our planned engagements reveals much to be enjoyed through the coming year. No doubt these cold dreary days of winter will slip by and we shall emerge into the spring fresh and renewed!

January

22 deChartes Womens Weekend

29 Fraiser Ball



February

5 Seven Years War Congress & Ball

12 Mad Anne to tell her story at Fort Boonesborough Fireside Chat

19 Conner Long Rifles Indoor Tradeshow



March

5 Mad Anne to tell her story at the Sons of the American Revolution Ohio Valley Chapter in Evansville

12 Mad Anne to tell her story at Blue Licks's Faces of the Frontier

19 Kalamazoo tradeshow



April

2 deCharte Spring Gathering

16 NMLRA National Womens Shoot and Rendezvous



May

7 Lore of the Laughery

14 Raid upon Martins Station

28 Quabash Valley Frontiersman Rendezvous



June

4 Mad Anne to tell her story at the Highland Games

11 Women on the Frontier or NMLRA Friendship Shoots

18 Mad Anne to tell her story at Fort Harrod



July

Mad Anne Will be Off the Trail in July



August

6 Not so Grande Valley Shoot

13 Pirates of Paynetown

20 Battle of Blue Licks and CLA

27 Fort Miamis



September

3 Menominee Rendezvous or Fair at New Boston

10 Long Run Massacre

17 Koh-Koh-Mah and Foster

24 Siege of Boonesborough



October

8 Mississinewa 1812

15 Thunder Creek Rendezvous

22 Gathering at 5 Medals

29 Locust Grove



November

5 Tanners Station, deChartes or Kentucky Woodsmans Weekend

My dearest ones, know you are often in my thoughts, dreams and prayers. Winter well, we shall meet again one day; until then be safe and take care.
A









Saturday, December 25

Hunting III of III

3 December

Darkness fell upon us while dense grey clouds blotted out both sun and moon as the sky above transitioned from day into night. We would have found a bed of boughs beneath one of the many tall pines had not the import of our messages necessitated carrying on. Lieutenant Colonel Williamson had entrusted a packet of letters to us to be delivered personally into the hands of Lord Manningham, thought to be traveling near the Big Raccoon River. Lord Manningham had confessed to Lt.Col. Williamson his interest and curiosity in the ways of the savages and the men who traded with them in this new frontier which was so unlike his own. Thus Manningham had departed from his regiment, servants, and all who knew him, to join company with an Indian trader; Captain Jacobs. Having traveled a time or two with Captain Jacobs ourselves, Williamson had known we could be trusted to find the pair out in this bleak wilderness. Huge snowflakes began to descend with unbelievable rapidity and soon the ground beneath our horse’s hooves was covered in white.

We traveled onward knowing Captain Jacobs was well familiar with this land and would likely be found afore much longer. Alongside the river a small encampment was spied, a tiny fire with a lone figure huddled beneath his matchcoat gave indication my destination had been reached. Quite surprised were we when just a bit further we spotted a solitary Indian lodge lit from within with the warm orange glow of a fire. Tired, wet and cold as we were, the warmth of either looked inviting. The lodge opened to reveal an Indian man who approached cautiously. In reasonably good English he addressed himself as Makinak, friend of Lord Manningham and Captain Jacobs, known also by the whiteman’s name of LeRoy.

Although our natural inclination is of intense hatred and distrust of all red men, we recognized this man’s sincerity and goodness of heart. Further, he indicated by hand sign and word it was Lord Manningham’s request and wish we join company with these men for a hunt upon the morrow. Even as we spoke, Captain Jacobs came forward and added his welcome to the camp. Immediately we were comforted and convinced to join this small company in their intent. As there was plenty of room within Mackinac’s warm lodge we were welcomed to stow our bedroll and small belongings within and make ourselves comfortable. Moisture had permeated nearly every fiber of our clothing during the heavy snow and the warmth of a fire and the dryness of his lodge enticed us to set aside our natural inclinations.



Lord Manningham returned from his explorations and immediately we placed Williamson’s correspondences into his hands. A dark look passed over Manningham’s countenance as he read news from Captain Peter Hogg of additional desertions. Manningham nearly tossed the letter into the fire at the nerve of Hogg to submit additional receipts for Beeves to Mr. Walker, who is now appointed Commissary for Washington’s Expeditions. Once we passed these dark moments the remainder of evening passed quickly, and soon the quiet outside and the reflection of the fire upon the walls of the lodge lulled us to sleep.

4 December

Teeth chattering with cold and an intense desire for the warmth of hot coffee we awoke to complete and total darkness. Feeling around in the darkness we came upon a few pieces of wood, tossed them upon the scant bed of coals and blew them to life. Not creating sufficient light nor warmth another piece of wood was placed upon the small beginnings of our fire. While tending to the necessities for coffee an unusual smell came to our nose, when suddenly Makinak sprung from his sleeping pallet and lifted from the now roaring fire a flaming piece of wood, lifted the lodge door and flung the offending piece out into the snow. Not comprehending the intentions of these sudden movements we reached for the comfort of a cold knife handle at our belt. Lord Manningham too was reaching for a weapon when Makinak began laughing for all the world as though the funniest thing ever had happened. We are most embarrassed and ashamed to admit WE were the source of Makinak’s humor. For it seems in our haste to make a fire for our desperately needed coffee we had somehow mistaken our friend Makinak’s moccasin for a piece of firewood!



Manningham roared with laughter and Makinak nearly fell over holding his stomach laughing and complaining loudly wanting to know why the noble crazy woman wanted to burn his moccasin? Was this a new whiteman tactic to slow the red man? Was it not possible for the mad woman to know the difference between a moccasin and piece of firewood?

We huddled into the warmth of our blankets wishing only to pull them up over our head completely! Gads! How was it possible we had mistaken the moccasin for wood?? We thought back just a few moments passed and wondered, had not that particular piece felt somehow different?? Nay, in our befuddled, cold and coffee deprived early morning state one piece had felt entirely the same as any other! Suddenly fear crept into our heart – would the man have any other footwear? By the glimpse out the lodge door it was clear the snow was easily four to five inches deep!

Fortunately our friend had two more pair of heavy winter moccs, those burned being merely an old pair used to slip on easily in the night for a call of nature. Rarely had we ever been more pleased for the comfort of a red man! Nay, he would not go about into the woods for our hunt shoeless, thank the merciful heavens!

Our morning thus begun with good humor, t’was destined to prevail throughout the day. Upon completion of our scant breakfast we set upon the woods in search of future meals. The night’s snow had made land and sky nearly the same color with only the bleak forest trees as relief between the two. Even the trees carried a load of snow upon every branch and stray leaf. Together Manningham, Makinak and I set off carrying our weapons loaded and ready. In the night another traveler had joined our small group; Robert of the Virginia Light Horse brigade. Having risen earlier than ourselves he had already set upon a deer trail in hopes of success.



As we slogged our way through the deepening snow the warmth of camaraderie was the only relief from the cold. After a few hours we caught sight of a lovely buck as he lifted his head from browsing, however he was quicker than I and he ran off afore our riflegun was fully lifted to shoulder. Not being certain of the distance of the shot in any case, we were none to upset by his quick departure. We attempted to head him off by trudging up a nearly vertical hillside, yet he was indeed much faster than I and we only found his tracks.



Shortly after this bit of excitement we determined twas surely a good time to return to the warmth of the lodge for a bit of a meal and to check in with our friends Rob and Captain Jacobs. None had known success afield and all were wet through to the skin. Fire, food and coffee did much to revive both stomach and spirit and soon enough we were once more afield. Captain Jacobs and Rob accompanied us up an enormous hillside which gave cause for serious concern were one to begin a sliding! Though the area was most clearly used as a corridor for the deer we so vehemently sought, none were willing to show themselves regardless of our stealth or desire. Upon the setting sun we returned once more to the warmth of the lodge empty handed but for my fine riflegun.


5 December

The morning sun found us within the trees, hidden beneath a well used cedar marked heavily with a buck’s favor. The sparkling of the sun’s rays twinkled over every snowflake giving the appearance of a fairy land, all quiet but for the rustling of bird, squirrel and mouse. Hours passed, a chill set in and once more t’was time to return to our home. Taking leave of these men whom I so admire was trying, yet the knowledge that we would again join forces was comforting. Alone and homeward bound we found ourselves laughing once more at the great moccasin mishap! T’is times such as these which will surely warm our hearts over the long and cold winter.




Edited to reflect the correct spellings of our dear friend Makinak/LeRoy's name.