Two Falling Waters: Bonds in Love & War, #2

By David G Tippens

The battle continues between the new nation and the British.

Freedom, lives, and property are at stake.

Independence must be won at all costs. There is no turning back.

~~~

Nestled within the mountains of North Georgia, Two Falling Waters is a magical place of beauty, much desired by the officers of the British crown. Leaders of the Patriot cause—Rob Glynne and his comrades—are determined that the land remain safe from the blood-stained and greedy hands of the enemy. Furthermore, the personal vendetta of the Burntthornes against the Glynne family and friends must also be put to rest. A critical component of independence lies in the ability to destroy British war goods and supplies—and destroy they shall.

Intertwined with the chaos of war is the amazing ability of the human heart to fall in love. Romance blossoms despite adversity. Follow the story of love, war, hate, and perseverance as the saga continues in Two Falling Waters.

~~~

"Not unlike the mythical weaver who spun his threads of gold, David Tippens spins his tales of old by weaving his fiction with historical fact, resulting in wonderful golden narratives threading through the American landscape and experience."

~ Larry Cavender, radio personality, retired English teacher, and author of A Patchwork Quilt, Another Patchwork Quilt, and soon to be released, The World Turned Upside Down

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: thewordverve inc
• Release date: Nov 18, 2017
• ISBN: 9781948225007

Book preview

DEDICATION

I wish to dedicate this book to my wonderful aunt, Charlotte J. Pettyjohn. Without her, it would have been impossible for my first book, Two Bent Trees, and now the second, Two Falling Waters, to make it to print.  Her dedication, hard work, attention to detail, encouragement, and faith in me made it all possible. She made it worth all the effort and time. Thanks and much love to my Aunt Charlotte.

Chapter One

THE YOUNG CAPTAINS OF WAR

T

he sun looks crooked! Young Robert Glynne blinked his eyes and looked again. How can that be? The sun is round! He closed his eyes and focused on the sounds around him. Birds sang and chickens clucked. Off in the distance, a cow or calf mooed and a hammer pinged against an anvil. He thought he could hear a man’s voice not too far away, talking to a plow horse. Suddenly, the cry of a blue jay nearby startled him, and the barking of dogs in the direction of the road sounded rather urgent.

Rob opened his eyes and realized it was later than he usually began the day. The sun wasn’t crooked either. It was just shining through the upper corner of the open window. He didn’t usually see it from that angle.

He slowly sat up, placed his feet on the floor, and for just a second or two, felt a little happiness surge through him. Then the memories came flooding back as he thought of his wife and baby who were no longer here on earth with him. Angrily, he shrugged off the memories and rose to his feet. He removed his clothes from the peg on the wall, got dressed, and then walked from his bedroom into the great room of the house.

Rob didn’t see a soul as he gathered up his moccasin boots and hat by the door. He stepped out onto the back porch and took a seat on the bench. Leaning back against the wall, he quickly put on his knee-high boots and laced them up. He strode over to a shelf between the porch posts and washed his face and hands in water from a bucket left on the shelf for that purpose. After drying his face and hands on a cloth hanging close by, his simple grooming routine was complete.

Then he put on his hat, a cherished creation by a longtime friend. It was all leather, made from deer hide, tanned and cured into a rigid, flat-brimmed hat with a flat-topped crown. It was sewn together around the brim and the top of the crown with neat, hand-stitched deerskin thongs. It looked rather like a parson’s hat in shape but was a little higher in the crown, more rugged and manly. The way it was cured and finished, it would shed water and even cause it to bead up. In short, it was a solid frontier hat, comfortable but sharp looking. It was unique, just like the man who’d made it. Twig Hayven had also made one for himself and Verdin Girard. With only slight variations, they were identical, as were the deerskin boots and clothing the three of them wore.

Rob stepped back inside the house and retrieved a wide leather belt that held his large hunting knife and tomahawk. He picked up a longbow by the doorway and a quiver of arrows. Slinging them over his shoulder, he stepped back onto the porch and scanned his surroundings. Looking south toward the road from the trading post, he could see a figure on horseback. Three dogs were barking and running alongside him. The horseman seemed unconcerned about the dogs as he unhurriedly pressed on toward the large farmhouse. The horse kept his regal bearing, totally oblivious of the dogs.

Rob walked to the front steps and leaned on the porch post, awaiting the arrival of the visitor. As the horseman came closer, Rob could see he was dressed in the buff and blue of the Continental Army. His uniform, though it looked rather new, was dusty from the road.

The rider approached the front steps and easily pulled his magnificent sorrel to a halt. He nodded at Rob politely and said, Good morning, sir! He glanced around, as if looking for someone else. Is your father nearby, lad? He sort of cocked his head and added, Or perhaps the person in charge here, or the owner of the farm?

Rob allowed a small smile to play around the corners of his mouth and eyes. He carefully observed the young soldier before him, who was probably a year or two older than Rob was, if that. Is it Lieutenant? Rob asked him.

Yes, yes it is. Lieutenant Conway at your service. He touched his hat briefly with the fingers of his right hand in salute as he rose to his toes in the stirrups and bowed slightly at the waist.

Rob openly smiled after answering the salute in like manner. Coming off the porch, he extended his hand to the lieutenant in welcome. The young officer shook his hand, looking down at him with curiosity. Rob said, Let me introduce myself. I am Robert Glynne, and I own this farm along with my two friends.

Lieutenant Conway smiled in return and stuttered, I am terribly sorry, Captain Glynne. It’s just that you look so . . . so young.

Rob just laughed and assured him no harm was done. But it was Rob’s turn to look curious now. He asked the lieutenant, "You said Captain. Why did you call me Captain?"

After Conway dismounted, Rob took the reins of his horse. With the lieutenant following close behind, he led the horse to the barn for water, some grain and hay. As they saw to the comfort of the horse, the lieutenant explained that some of their exploits and efforts against the British had become known from Capt. George Wolloston and others. Some of their former officers and friends in Washington’s army had heard these stories. Coupled with what they already knew, they had written letters recommending the three of them be commissioned in the Continental Army as captains.

This had been agreed to with the provision they must continue their efforts against the British here in the Southern Theater of the war. They were to coordinate and align their efforts with commanding officers in the area if at all possible. Copies of their commissions were in Lieutenant Conway’s possession, to be presented to them if they accepted these conditions.

Rob rounded up Twig and Verdin, and they all gathered around the large dining table in the great room. The three owners of Cedar Haven Farm agreed to the terms, and Lieutenant Conway presented them with their commissions. Now they were officially captains in the Army of the fledgling nation.

The now Captain Glynne leaned across the table and addressed young Conway. Well, Lieutenant, don’t tell me you’re here in the wilderness just to find us and make us captains.

Conway smiled and assured them he wasn’t. His mission was to contact all the militia officers in the frontier regions of Georgia, as well as the southern part of South Carolina. His goal was to encourage their communications one with another and to coordinate their commands against the Indian populations now allied to Great Britain. It was well known that British officers moved among them, promoting warfare with enemies of the Crown. They were also providing arms, ammunition, and other supplies to the restless natives.

Among these British officers was one Major Burntthorne, who had been very instrumental in stirring up the Cherokee in the last few months. He had successfully orchestrated some rather damaging and bloody raids against outlying settlements.

The three young captains of war told Lieutenant Conway of their knowledge of the Burntthorne family and some of their family members in particular. They would be glad to coordinate their efforts against this Major Burntthorne, who in their estimation was a blight on the welfare of all mankind.

Conway voiced his approval but warned that their help might first be needed closer to home. The British had forces of mostly Loyalists on the prowl. Patriot Col. Elijah Clarke had just suffered a defeat a few months earlier at St. Mary’s. More recently, a battle had been fought against Creek marauders at Nail’s Fort on Deep Creek.

Lieutenant Conway then stood, signaling that his business had concluded. His smile was generous as he shook hands with the trio and then headed out the door. The three stood on the front porch and watched the young officer as he rode away astride the proud sorrel. He was soon gone from sight in the midmorning haze. He left much better provisioned, thanks to the ladies of the farm, but he still had a lot of ground to cover.

Rob, Verdin, and Twig returned to the table to talk. The last few months following the Indian raid, the house and barn had been rebuilt, with lots of help from neighboring farmers. They, in turn, helped others, mostly those to the east of Cedar Haven who had survived the raid.

Crops had been planted, livestock brought in, and fresh meat obtained from hunting. The farm was now in good shape to start being a self-sufficient, cash-producing farm. Following the harvest of that year, 1778, things should be to the point where the men could concentrate on helping to defeat the British.

For the next several days, all hands worked to harvest the corn and beans and other foods grown on the farm. The hay and grains for the animals were stored away for the winter. At the first cold spell, they killed some hogs and a couple of steers. With a lot of hard work by all, the smoke house was filled with hams, beef, and deer meat. The ladies even harvested a good stock of chestnuts from the trees around the farm. They had to work fast to beat the wild hogs, deer, bears and other critters that relished the tasty nuts.

***

About thirty-five miles to the east, another attack on Carr’s Fort took place. This time it was the Cherokee, and there were also a few red-coated British officers and soldiers with them. The rider who brought the news to the town of Cedar Shoals said that some of the defenders identified one of them as Major Burntthorne.

This news prompted Rob to take action. The farm was set for the winter. The womenfolk could easily make it through the winter now and take care of the milk cows and other livestock. He called for a family conference at the big table.

Rob, Verdin, Twig, Ambro and Chick, and the ladies of the farm, Louisa May Medford Hayven (Twig’s wife) and Faith Glynne (Rob’s mother), all gathered that evening. After much discussion followed by a prayer, it was decided that Rob, Verdin, and Ambro would try to recruit volunteers from the area farms. Being on the fringes of the settlement, the population out on the frontier was rather sparse. There was also the risk of running into Tories or Loyalists. So far, though, the only people they had encountered in the area were Patriots.

Chapter Two

BACK TO WAR

O

ver the next few days, they were able to recruit nine strong, young men. They told them to report to Cedar Haven Farm in one week. Everyone was to bring their own provisions, weapons, ammunition, and horses. If they were lacking in any of these needs, efforts to alleviate that problem would be handled at the farm.

On the appointed day, the second Sunday in December, the new soldiers began drifting in. By late Sunday afternoon, all nine were present and accounted for. A camp was established in the field where the wagons had been parked, the same wagons that had brought them to the farm from Augusta. All but one had been burned by the Creek warriors in the raid last year. It had survived due entirely to being parked a short distance from the others. A two-wheeled cart had been made from an axle and wheels and other parts from remnants of some of the burned wagons.

The young recruits ranged in age from seventeen to twenty-eight. Six of them were unmarried, and the other three were married with children. These three young men were fortunate to have in-laws or parents to look after their wives, children, farms, and property while they were away in the service of their country.

For the next ten days, food and equipment problems were solved. Four of them had arrived on foot, so horses were required for them. Stock from the farm had provided two suitable animals, but a trip to a farm about twenty miles toward Augusta had been necessary to find two more, and they were just green broke.

Along with the gathering of supplies, Rob, Verdin, and Twig spent several hours each day working with the new soldiers. The three worked in pairs, taking turns as trainers. They drilled the recruits in loading and firing, target practice, marching and maneuvering. They taught them how to use knives and tomahawks in hand-to-hand combat. All the recruits knew how to ride, so the captains worked with them on how to maneuver on horseback, as well as learning battle commands and firing and loading weapons. Attention was also given to fighting on horseback and how to defend against a sword attack.

They worked together on how to move on the march, what to do if attacked, how to communicate with hand signals, and what to look for when scouting ahead, riding point, or watching a flank. Ambro worked with them on some of these things, too, as he was well-versed in Indian warfare, reading sign language, and maneuvering in quiet, indiscernible ways in the wilderness. He had also picked up a few things from the captains, which they had learned from their experiences.

In a few days a sense of camaraderie had formed, and the recruits had trained well. They were all of good frontier stock, typically of Scotch-Irish, Scotch, English, Irish, or German descent.

One thing the new captains wanted was some recognizable similarity of dress, since actual uniforms were out of the question. When the recruits had first shown up, they wore an assortment of frontier clothing—anything from deerskin to homespun, or a mixture of both. The most desirable thing was for all of them to be dressed like Rob, Verdin, and Twig, in deerskin boots, pants, outer coats, vests, and hats. Their shirts were the simple, white cotton shirts favored by countrymen. Around their necks were simple white cotton kerchiefs, which not only kept their necks warm, but could be used for other things as well.

The women went into action, helping the men gather the deerskin available on the farm. Using some of the clothing the nine wore as trade goods, they were able to bargain for more skins from the trading post and a farmer or two.

By the time their unit was ready for action, the captains and recruits were all dressed alike. Twig had fashioned the same hard-soled, high-topped, lace-up moccasin boots for each recruit, as well as the same flat-brimmed, round-crowned hats, though not quite as meticulously crafted as those of the captains.

Each man was armed with a rifle, with a sling for carrying it across his back, and a hunting knife of some sort, most of them made on Twig’s forge. Not everyone was armed with a tomahawk or hatchet, but those who were not had an extra knife.

Ambro and the captains each carried a pistol stuck in their belt. A couple of the recruits had brought their own pistols with them. Three others were given pistols from inventory at the farm. Each man carried two powder horns hung on leather straps that kept the horns snug on their left side under their arm. The straps looped over their right shoulder and crossed the ones holding their leather shot pouches hanging on their right side. These pouches also held the cloth patches that the rifle ball fit into as it was rammed into place on top of the powder.

A cloth or canvas haversack also hung from a strap across the opposite shoulder. These sacks carried extra underclothing articles, socks, flints, tinder, small personal items, and basic foods, such as a cut of salt pork and biscuits. They had no canteens, but bags of water were to be carried on pack horses with cooking utensils and other foods.

Two days before Christmas, assembly was ordered at the campsite at sunrise. Every man was packed and ready as they had completed their training. They lined up in single file, facing Rob, Verdin, and Ambro. Rob and Verdin had a captain’s insignia and two yellow vertical bars sewn onto the front of the crown of their hats. They had been reluctant to do that, but Verdin’s wife suggested it might be of good use around other officers and soldiers.

Goodbyes were said at the farmhouse. Everything that could be done, or that could be thought of, had been done. It was time to go. Yes, it was time to go to war.

Their destination was Heard’s Fort, about thirty-five miles due east of Cedar Haven Farm. Using the old existing trail, down which the Creek raiders had come to attack the farm, Rob had the little command, totaling twelve mounted soldiers and four pack horses, heading out by the time it was full daylight.

Ambro led the way on his dark chestnut bay, just barely in sight. He knew the trail from scouting around the farm. One of the three, or Ambro, had often scouted the area for signs of Cherokee or Creek warriors. They didn’t want to be surprised.

Rob gestured for Ambro and Verdin to join him at the head of the column. If they really pushed hard, they could make the trip in one day. After talking it over, they decided to go into camp a little before dark. There was good water there for man and beast, as well as good forage for the horses.

Ambro was to push on ahead past the campsite, unless he ran into trouble. Rob was to lead the column, with Verdin staying with the column itself. Rob and Verdin watched Ambro ride out smoothly and quickly. Horse and man moved as one, and stealthy as a panther. Rob had that distinct impression as he watched Ambro leave. He noted how Ambro looked so much like the dark-chestnut bay. Reddish-brown skin glistening with health, muscles rippling, and coal-black hair. If ever there was a man and horse matched for each other, these two were.

They made good time in the cold December air. Horses and men settled into the pace and the task at hand. The area for the night’s camp was about a mile ahead of Rob’s advanced position when he saw Ambro flitting through the trees ahead. His gaited horse was moving down the trail toward Rob, gliding along with Ambro calmly leaning back in the saddle. Nothing indicated a reason to be alarmed, but Rob knew something was up or Ambro wouldn’t be coming back. Rob swung around in the trail, trotting back toward the column until his men could clearly see him. He held up his arm signaling for them to stop, which they did immediately. Rob then turned and walked his big, black gelding in the direction of Ambro, who soon pulled up in front of him and simply said, Cherokee War Party.

Ambro had discovered the warriors coming west on the trail after he’d passed the intended campsite of the Patriots. The warriors kept coming until they got to the campsite themselves. Obviously, they too knew about the campsite. Ambro had sat quietly on his horse just off the trail in a clump of canes, within earshot of the enemy camp. He overheard snatches of conversation that let him know they intended to attack Heard’s Fort with other