“Yeh, though I walk through the valley of death I shall fear
no evil.” The voices in my head cried over and over without end. “I shall fear
no evil.” Again, “Yeh, though I walk through the valley of death.” And again…Yet,
I did fear evil, for how could I not, when its black fingers were curled around
my heart? “I shall fear no evil.” Lo, Powell’s glorious valley had once held
beauty, sweetness and light for me, yet I was terrified it would no longer.
Indeed, my deepest fear was Powell’s Valley and Mr. Martin’s station was now
bereft of all sweetness and light for me.
Days ago, the fear which pursued me during the first hours
of travel toward Powell’s Valley were slightly assuaged upon being joined by
Mr. Goodwin, just south of the Falls of the Ohio. Pitt made a fine traveling
companion, turning my attention toward lighter concerns. My other most dear, dear companion, Katie
Rose was sweetness her very self, asking a blue million questions about the
land to which we traveled and those whom we would meet. Her hopes were high we
would encounter a few friendly faces, whilst mine were merely that we not
encounter those with ill intent. As the hours passed, I admit my spirits rose
and I began to question if I’d overly concerned myself with ridiculous
concerns.
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| Image by Harold Jerrell |
Indeed, upon our arrival at the station, it had seemed my
fears were entirely ridiculous. Captain Willyard’s Company had possession of
the station whilst Captain Martin and his closest family attended to mourning
the recent loss of his beloved grandmother. Captain Willyard showed Katie Rose
and me to a small but comfortable cabin safe within the ramparts.
Mr. Goodwin
was kind enough to sleep just outside our door to further ensure our safety. The
hour being very late, Kate and I set our belongings aside, unrolled our
blankets, and crawled gratefully into the straw tick mattress as quickly as
possible, paying no attention to the mites, bits, ticks or lice within. “Yeh,
though I walk…”
All too soon the cock began to crow and the sun began to
lighten the eastern sky.
The morning began with a hearty laugh from me as Pitt
poked me repetitively in the head with a long stick through a small window in
our cabin. He was intent upon waking me to obtain his pack which he had safely
stowed in a corner of the cabin. Luckily I was already awake and highly amused
by his prodding. I swung my legs off the
bed, scooped my skirts from the peg upon the wall, quickly laced my stays and
opened the door to a cold and hungry Pitt. It seems he had left his stockings in his pack
and desperately wanted them! Laughing I swung the pack at him and pulled the
door of the tiny cabin shut to allow Katie to rest a few more hours.
Fortune or a helpful soldier had smiled upon us and there
were a few embers still aglow in the fort yard fire. Soon the women of the company
began to gather their resources and cook for all assembled. As coffee is more important
to my disposition than food, I made my own kettle of coffee and soon began to
feel a bit more civilized.
My dearest girl slept on, oblivious to the cock’s
crow, the smell of rashers, or even my meddling within the small confines of
the cabin. Eventually however, her pretty green eyes greeted me and a slight
smile curled her lips, while curls of blond hair spilled unruly across the
blankets. My mind raised the mantra once again, “Through the valley of death…”
Upon rising, Kate had the chore of bringing in water.
Once finished with her few chores she immediately set about searching for young ladies such as herself
and was soon out of my sight. “I shall fear no evil…” my stomach knotted at the
loss of her, even knowing she was safe and sound nearby.
I too found others such as myself, temporarily seeking the
station’s shelter. Mistress Phyllis Preston, who had very recently suffered the
loss of her dear husband Bradley, was found at the fire side. My most sincere
condolences were heartfelt for her and her son Christopher. Her demeanor in
receiving these paltry words can only be described as regal. Ah, one such as
she is to be greatly admired. The strength of her grief belied by her fine comportment. A
truer lady I've not seen in some time.
Other women gathered in the fort yard,
Mistress Willyard, Mistress Seacrest, were known to me, but there were others
as well. We shared a greeting and soon I wandered out to the dogtrot to see my
friends Randy Wolfe, Tony Baker and Tom Conde. All seemed to have
weathered the winter well.
As is his usual manner Mr. Conde was intent upon his
weaving, yet he took time away to greet me warmly and convey kind words. So,
too Misters Fourman and Wolfe; Randy inquiring after Katie Rose’s curdog who had been a pup in the
Wolfe pack.
Mistress and Mr. Selter arrived at the station and I was heartily
glad to have their company which is of such comfort to me. Mr. Boone himself was traveling through the
area and made a fine companion as well.
We friends passed the time telling stories in the fortyard
until a bevy of girls burst like quail upon us with skirts flying and incessant
chatter. Kate had found a covey of Doctor Robert’s girls; Lucy, Molly, Rosie
and Sophie, as well as a few others, some of which were previously unknown to Katie
Rose but with whom she had already become fast friends and had been adventuring
with. A quick peck upon my cheek and once more they flew down the hill.
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| Image by Mark Selter |
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| Image from Chetworth del Gatto (Floyd Foster) |
Time seemed almost idyllic in its sweetness. Memories of
other sojourns in this place flooded my mind and constant reminders of times
gone by were brought upon the lips of others. Still, my heart remained true in
my resolve and I politely nodded, said little, and remembered fondly. Day safely
slipped easily into night, friends were reunited, songs sung, stories told. The
night became full with the song of laughter, soft firelight flickered within
the walls of the station, and all seemed right in the world. My sleep with my
dear girl snuggled up beside me, was unblemished by nightmares, memories,
tears, or fears. Heavily, I rested until
the early, early morning cock’s crow.
Morning came slowly upon the camp and I sought the refuge of
coffee amongst friends. Captain Martin had returned to the station and I conveyed
my most sincere condolences upon him and his dear wife learning of the loss of
the captain’s beloved grandmother. Later, I strolled with my basket to see if
perhaps there was a bauble or some such thing to be purchased from one of the
many suttlers, but returned to the station with no such prizes. Though much the
better for having spent time among friends. Once more, my sweet girl was slow
to rise and quick to leave my sight, off on her own adventures.
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| Image from Tim Massey |
Reports of savages arrived on the lips of our scouts and
spies and once more the refrain began within my head “I shall fear no evil.” One
may choose not to believe in evil, but the denial there of is no better
protection than burying one’s head in the sand. For indeed, there was evil in
Powell’s Valley and its face was painted black of night and red of blood.
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| Image from previous year |
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| Image by Mark Selter |
The first whoop of a war cry sent women and children running
for all they were worth to the protection of the stockaded station. My recent
losses were so keenly felt I did not join the women’s flight but rather,
snatched up my firelock “Lucky” and set off toward my revenge. The emptiness of
my heart made my choice an easy one for there was nothing, save my sweet girl
whom I’d already seen safely within the walls, the savages could take from me.
Howling my anger, my shots rang true and brought down a dog or two who’d
intended to nip the heels of our men. Safely tucked beside a cabin, my back to
the wall, I loaded round after hot round, pouring lead upon the heathens.
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| Image from Chetworth del Gatto (Floyd Foster)
|
Whilst I had thought all the children had made it safely
within the confines of the station walls, I was sick at heart to see one of the
good Doctor’s own children snatched and carried in the arms of a giant savage.
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| Image from Chetworth del Gatto (Floyd Foster)
|
So quickly did this bit of trickery take place
I was caught in a rare moment unloaded and helpless to save the poor child. My
screams of utter frustration mimicked those of the savages and for one split
second a thought burst through my skull; perhaps it was this kind of loss which
caused those red dogs to howl so heinously. Quickly this treasonous thought was
squelched as images of the savages burning, killing, maiming, and squealing
like wild pigs burned through my mind.
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| iImage from Chetworth del Gatto (Floyd Foster) |
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| Image from Chetworth del Gatto (Floyd Foster)
|
Just as my anger spilled over into madness, one of the damned dogs leaped toward me, dropping everything I came at him tooth and claw. Unexpectedly, I caught the tail of this tiger! As quickly as my hands got purchase upon him,he turned, immediately intent on getting as far from this madness as possible!
Like thick fog rushing over the night
sky obliterating the silvery light of the moon, the savages one by one began to
disappear from this place, leaving naught but destruction behind.
I returned once more to the confine of the walls and as
there were many gathered to hear the sadness of my story, I was compelled to
tell it once more. I believe my tears moved more than one man to register with
Lieutenant Minnis and the other men of Captain Willyard’s Company to fight the
savages who had taken so much from me and others of this frontier.
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| Image from the book of faces |
Upon the conclusion of my story the greatest
possible shock and surprise was visited upon me when my dear dear friend and
artist Doc Muzzy stood before the assembled men and women and presented me with
a portrait of my happiest days shared with my beloved Katie Rose. To see her
sweet smile and her baby cheeks smiling up at me in the portrait brought tears
once more to my already reddened eyes, though these were the most cleansing of
tears, clearing my vision to see the absolute beauty before me. Words defy me
to describe how utterly and deeply pleased this painting made me. Kate snuggled
close in my arm and shyly admired the painting as well.
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| from the book of faces |
Following this bit of beauty we all rejoiced as Captain
Martin announced the winner of a fine riflegun which had been built here within
the fort walls and even in far off Williamsburg. All were well pleased to know
the prize would be well loved by the lucky winner. Our revelry was shattered when once more the shriek of
children reached our ears. Those rabid wretched dogs had once more attacked.
All to arms was the cry and once more I grasped Lucky in my hand, glad to have
my powder and shot pouch already at my side.
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| Image by Harold Jerrell |
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| Image by Harold Jerrell |
In the gloaming of the night those heathens had snuck close and set fire
to the outlying cabins, sparks and flames crackled in the night like hell's
gates themselves opening. Our men fought their best and steadily the sound of
firelocks filled the night.
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| image by Mark Selter |
Closer and closer they came, the black of their skin reflecting
the flames. Their hideously painted eyes filled with rage, hatred and revenge.
So close was one these wretched animals I was able to discern his twisted
fingers curled round a war club. I fired, bringing down the man to his right
but quickly realized there would be no time to reload before this savage beast
was upon me.
“Yeh, though I walk through
the valley of death I SHALL FEAR NO EVIL!”
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| Image by Harold Jerrell |
My scream of defiance took the man by surprise, yet it did not slow him
as the full weight of his body slammed into mine. Fire burned through my veins and strength I
did not know I had flushed within me and I brought the butt of my flintlock
toward his head. Lightly he flung it aside, another at his hand immediately
took my firelock from my grasping hands and all at once I was lifted from the
ground flung screaming, kicking and hitting with all my might over the black
shoulder of the running man. The bible verse I’d learned as child screamed from
me unbidden over and over as I fought for my life wielding the knife I always wear at my side.
Behind one of the small cabins I was unceremoniously dumped
to the ground and surrounded by savages. My heels dug into the hard dry earth
as they tried to find purchase to hoist my weight. One of the men spoke harshly and shoved me
back to the ground with one hand while he pointed with the other. With no
thought whatsoever, I rolled off my backside, onto my knees, dug my toes in and
launched myself toward the fort. My
swirling skirts hampered my first steps landing me hard back down on one bloody
knee. Barely feeling the pain and
knowing it was nothing compared to what I may feel if the savages caught me
once more, I ran as fast as my weary legs would carry me. Nearly blind in the
oncoming darkness, I tripped over the body of one of the men who had fought so
bravely against the savages.
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| image by Mark Selter |
Sprawling I barely registered the blood and gore, but did
immediately lay my hands upon the man’s cocked flintlock. Praying the words of that verse again, I came
to a knee, balanced my elbow upon the other, and took aim at my enemy. Quickly,
I realized they had not pursued me. Their attention had been taken in an
entirely different direction as the good men from the fort gained ground with
each volley. Seeing my opportunity, I sited down the unfamiliar barrel, took a
breath and slowly squeezed the trigger. I glimpsed a tiny spark but the damned
thing only produced a flash in the pan!
I immediately ducked
behind the widow’s cabin and dared glance around the corner. I could not
believe my eyes, lying on the dusty ground beside my shot bag and horn was my flintlock!
Is it any wonder I’ve named her Lucky! Once more my legs pumped with all their
might and though my heart was in my throat and absolute terror nearly blinded
me, I ran back toward the savages, intent upon regaining my belongings.
Indeed Luck was surely with me as I regained possession of
my dear sweet Lucky. I threw the bag and horn straps over my shoulder and immediately
loaded, sited and felt the satisfying recoil of a perfect shot. The dogs had
already begun to slink back into the woods; the majority of our shots merely
nipped their heels. The men of the Captain Willyard’s Company pressed on until
the savages were out of sight entirely, their wild whooping and war cries
filled the night as they disappeared into the darkness.
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| image by Mark Selter |
Once more we gathered the wounded and dead and drug them
into the safety of the walls. Tears, shouts and the occasional shot rang into
the night. My dearest Katie Rose was safe and sound, asleep nestled into our
blankets within the walls of our tiny cabin. I gave a prayer of thanks and
dropped a kiss upon her sweet cheek. Friends old and new gathered into the
fortyard around the fire. Revelry and singing burst forth as a sort of
catharsis I believe. Rum punch flowed as
we told tales, laughed and let loose of our fears for the night. As a lark
Mistress Frost and I put up a show of pugilism, which was greatly amusing, at least to us!
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| Jug by Jay Henderson, Punch Bowl and Mug by Lisa Jo Crews |
Late, late in the
night, a few trusted companions and I left the safe confines of the station and
made our way in the complete darkness until we arrived just outside the
firelight of the savage’s encampment. Entranced in their whoops and strange
language, they danced like devils round the fire. Our mission to count them and
determine if any captives remained alive was completed and we ran like the wind
back to the fort to make our sad report. Sad, for though the savage fires
burned bright there were no captives still living. Naught but a few buttons
glowing hot upon the earth the only proof our men had been tortured to death
but hours before. The screams I’d thought to be savage hours ago had more
likely than not been the last mortal sounds of my own friends and countrymen. Finally,
exhausted both physically and mentally, I crawled into the blankets with my
sweet girl. Once more together, our
breathing mingled, and soon I too was sleeping.
Upon rising Sunday morning I was greatly heartened to find Parson John would be holding divine services for all assembled. My mood matched the grey sky and it was hard to keep tears from falling like the rain which had begun late in the night. Further, when the Parson invited all to partake at the Lord's table I was nearly overcome with emotion as is oft the case for me at such times.
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| image by Retha n Ken Reece, Book of Faces |
T'is my own personal burden which prevents me from quenching my thirst or satiating my taste for the Lord's offerings, and t'was surely only the presence dear dear Maggie Delaney that kept me from breaking down entirely. Sturdily she stood beside me, an arm round my shoulders briefly. The words which passed between us at the close of the service warm my heart even now. I wonder if she knows what a rock of faith she is to so many others with her quiet strength and warm smile? She is so very very dear for such a humble washer woman.
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| Image by Frank Jarboe |
Time at Mr. Martins’ Station was short, and all too soon
Katie Rose, Mr. Goodwin, and I were saying our goodbyes to friends. Mother Nature unleashed a storm upon us just as we left the confines
of the station making our travels even more difficult. Yet onward we traveled and hours later Kate and I bid a fond farewell
to Pitt.
Though there were moments in Powell's Valley I’d sooner leave behind and forget forever,
all in all it had not been nearly as bad as I had feared. The savages were
pushed back, friendships were renewed, and though many a dream had died in
Powell’s Valley many of us would live to see another day and dream other dreams. Indeed, I felt I had walked in the Valley of Death
and lived to tell the tale.
Special thanks to Chetworth del Gatto (Floyd Foster), Mark Selter, Harold Jerrell, John Buxton, John Frank Jarboe, Tim Massey and Reetha N Ken Reece for the use of their images.
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