Sarah's Valley

By Rita Chandler Graham

Claiming her newly purchased land in Mississippi becomes more pain than pleasure for Sarah Elizabeth Casterloer. Her father's wagon train encounters floods, pestilence, and renegade Indians. Sarah's amoral husband, Henny, is also a constant burden Sarah will have to endure for a lifetime because, as a Christian, she does not believe in divorce.

That is until she is thrown together throughout the four-month journey with the head wrangler, Beau Taggart. Beau proves time and again he will protect the people of the wagon train with his life. But more specifcally he will protect Sarah. Even by telling Beau she is bound to Henny in the eyes of God, Sarah knows her heart does not belong to her husband.

A tragedy will determine if Sarah and Beau's fate is love or hatred.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Jul 19, 2012
• ISBN: 9781449757502

Rita Chandler Graham

Rita Chandler Graham was raised in Yalobusha County, Mississippi, the setting for majority of the book. She has published ninety short stories, across four genres, in magazines and online writing forums. Rita has conducted extensive research into nineteenth-century Mississippi. Rita lives in Pontotoc, Mississippi, with her husband, Michael.

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SARAH’S

VALLEY

Rita Chandler Graham

SKU-000585809_TEXT.pdf

Copyright © 2012 by Rita Chandler Graham.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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ISBN: 978-1-4497-5750-2 (e)

To Michael Douglas Graham:

My husband and my soul mate who has always encouraged me to write.

Contents

Acknowlegements

Part One The Trail

One

Two

Three

Part Two Chahta Hapia Hoke We Are Choctaw

Four

Five

Six

Part Three Following The Creek

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Author’s Notes

ACKNOWLEGEMENTS

My Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. He gave me the talent to write.

Coffeeville Public Library

Blackmur Memorial Library-Water Valley

Jesse Yancy Memorial Library-Bruce

Calhoun City Library

History of Yalobusha County Mississippi, by the Heritage Committee of the Yalobusha County Historical Society, 1982

Mississippi, Planned and edited by Dunbar Rowland, 1976

"The Handbook of Texas Online: CHOCTAW INDIANS, by Jeffrey D. Carlisle

Choctaw Museum of the Southern Indian, by Bob Ferguson

USGS-National Mapping Information

The Choctaw Before Removal, edited by Carolyn Keller Reeves

The Way I Heard It… A History of Calhoun County, June 1975 by Ken Nail

Yalobusha County Historical Society, President Mike Worsham

Billy Joe and Patsy Upchurch for their vast knowledge of Yalobusha County history.

Frank Fernandez for helping me to distinguish where Hendersonville and Okachickama Hill were in the 1800’s.

Don Sides for a lively discussion on where James Perry’s hill was located. Don, I put James Perry on Okachickama Hill since it fit best in my story, but thanks for your vast knowledge on the subject.

Lori Gambrell for her expertise with computer graphics so that my barely legible scribbling became a beautiful map of how Yalobusha County looked in 1834.

PART ONE

THE TRAIL

ONE

august 1833

TENNESSEE TERRITORY

BASE OF THE GREAT SMOKY MOUNTAINS

Hang on, Sarah! I’m coming, Beau Taggart yelled as he urged his horse Lightning into greater speed, knowing the raging river had drowned out his words.

He berated himself for lagging behind on the embankment, determined to let sassy-mouth Sarah Elizabeth Casterloer cross under her own steam. When he saw her sitting high upon the bench of the large Conestoga wagon, he had offered to steer the cumbersome cart across the swollen waters but only received a sharp, ‘No, thank you, Mr. Taggart’ from the exasperating woman as she sniffed out her displeasure. Before he could explain to her the dangers of the flooded river, she had snapped her whip across the backs of her stubborn oxen as her wagon lumbered forward and into the water.

Sitting astride his horse he had observed the equally stubborn woman try to physically keep the oxen plodding forward before watching, in horror, as the beast suddenly dipped under the water, tipping the wooden home-on-wheels forward before dumping Sarah off her perch and into the muddy, fast-flowing river.

He now urged Lightning closer to the wagon, hoping and praying that Sarah would emerge from the murky water safe and unharmed. As he steadily closed the gap, he saw her pop up against a wheel, clinging for dear life and catching her breath before pulling herself up the spokes to plop back onto the bench.

Water streamed from her dress as well as her hair but the brave woman that she was, Sarah grabbed the dropped reins as she called to the oxen to move forward.

The big Conestoga lumbered up the muddy embankment on the opposite shore, coming to a stop on hard packed, dry land. He took a long look at the young woman, making sure she wasn’t harmed and taking in the sight of her hour-glass figure outlined to perfection under the wet dress. He was only a man after all and a beautiful woman in a wet dress certainly got his attention.

Beau thought Sarah Casterloer was the prettiest woman he had ever seen the first time he laid his eyes on her. Nothing in the four months of their travels south had dampened that opinion. Even soaking wet she was a beaut. He finally brought his lustful thoughts under control as he doffed his hat to her in a gentlemanly manner.

Mrs. Casterloer, he said as he addressed her properly. You did a fine job of pulling your wagon across even though you took a mighty dunking yourself.

I’m fine, Mr. Taggart. Don’t you have other wagons to see to?

Yes, ma’am, he replied trying to catch her eye but she kept her head averted and her eyes on the flooded river they had just crossed. I’m helping Jules cross next so I’ll be going. I would have helped you, Mrs. Casterloer, if I had known Henny wasn’t helping. Where is he, by the way?

This time his words brought Sarah’s bright blue gaze directly to his face. Fire sparkled momentarily in their azure depths before she lowered her lashes. When she spoke her voice was without any emotion. I thought you knew, Mr. Taggart. Henny disappeared soon after helping my parents cross.

But, Beau stuttered then clearing his throat and trying again. But that was hours ago. Do you mean Henny has been missing all this time?

Sarah’s only reply was a shrugging of her slim shoulders.

Beau swallowed the disgust he wanted to express out loud before saying, I’m sorry, Mrs. Casterloer, I didn’t know. We’ll find him.

Mr. Taggart, her voice rang clear in the warm afternoon breeze, Henny can take care of himself. I suggest you take care of whatever my father has you doing first before going off after my husband. This is not the first time he has disappeared and I am sure it won’t be the last.

Her husband. What a strange word to apply to Henny Casterloer. Sarah knew they were married in the eyes of God and legally married in the eyes of witnesses, but she didn’t feel married. She wasn’t sure what it should feel like but all she felt for her husband of four months was a very un-Christian emotion of dislike. She was told she had a choice of marrying Henny or not, but truthfully, what were her options? She wanted land in the new state of Mississippi and the only way to purchase it was through a husband. Even a good-for-nothing one like the one she had. Her mother assured her love would grow between them after they were married. It hadn’t.

She watched the last wagon struggle to cross the violent water. Every stream they had crossed up until now had been flowing sedately, giving the six wagons very little difficulty. Now that they had left the winding trails of the Smoky Mountains, the small inlets and streams were overflowing from rainwater.

Sarah’s father, William Johnson, started this wagon train moving early spring, four months ago, to avoid traveling over snow-topped mountains, but he had not taken into account the rainy season causing the tributaries to swell to overflowing.

Sarah contemplated her life as she sat on an old tree stump and gloomily looked out across the vast body of water to where the Milnor wagon fought with the current trying to reach of the embankment.

Here she was, fifteen-hundred miles from home, her beloved New York City, in a wagon train, headed to the unknown just to be called a landowner. This had been her parents’ dream. One they thought would never happen for them but one they had saved for all their lives. She was glad they were finally able to make their dream come true and be landowners.

She was a landowner, also, because her parents’ dream had become her own.

But being a landowner came with a big price. A husband. She needed a husband to buy land so now she had one. Just not the right one. In her dreams the man she would marry would love her as much as he respected her and those feelings would be returned tenfold. But she couldn’t love Henny and never could she respect him. This marriage, though, had been her decision. The only decision she could make because there were no other men, no boyfriends, hanging around whom she could love and respect. Sarah’s parents raised her to be independent, but most men of her acquaintance only thought of her as bossy so she had never had a serious boyfriend. In the rush to leave for this trudge south the only person she could choose was Henny.

There were other reasons Sarah finally agreed to marry Henny. She truly believed as her parents had that her intelligence and confidence would rub off on Henny, making him a better man. They were sadly mistaken. The second reason she married Henny was because he was also the son of her parents’ best friends, Fritz and Martina Casterloer.

There was a third reason for marrying Henny. One Sarah kept close to her heart, not even sharing that reason with her mother. Sarah and her parents had deep, abiding faith and believed in Ask and ye shall receive. Weeks before the purchase of the land and the preparation for the trip, Sarah prayed, almost without ceasing that the Lord would provide her with a husband as well as a companion for the trip. When there remained only Henny she began to realize he was the man God had chosen. She now questioned this decision, wondering if she was meant to come on this trip after all because now every time she was near Henny she only felt repulsion. Love had not grown between them in these past four months so now Sarah wondered if she had only imagined God answering her prayers with Henny. She wondered if her prayers had been selfish and not the will of God at all. As the days passed, she no longer had to wonder. She knew Henny was not the answer to her prayers. She knew she had to live with her mistake for the rest of her life for only she made the decision; not God.

As usual though, Sarah never showed her disgust for her husband because her parents had taught her the basics of being a lady. Along with that teaching they had filled her head with geography, Latin, and mathematics. Since she was their only child, they wanted her to be able to fend for herself if anything happened to them. Leaving her behind in New York while they claimed their land in Mississippi was not up for discussion.

This was when the idea to become a landowner sprang into her own head and she began formulating business plans, something to support herself. Excitement about the new adventure kept her giddy all the way through the two hour wait in line at Richard Bolton’s New York and Mississippi Land Office. When Sarah and her father were finally inside the small office, Mr. Bolton himself stated that women were not allowed to own land and he would not sell to Sarah.

Feeling a deep anger at Mr. Bolton’s words Sarah wanted to let loose a temper tantrum right there in front of everyone and accuse the businessman of unfair practices but Sarah took a deep breath, letting her father speak. William Johnson calmly stated that his daughter was purchasing for her husband who could not come today. Mr. Bolton said he would be happy to sell land to her husband but the groom would need to come to the land office himself to make the purchase, thus beginning the prayer vigilance for a husband, resulting in Henny.

Marriage, Sarah had been told, was a sacred vow. She had learned to read the Holy Bible at her Grandmother Johnson’s knees. When the old woman’s eyesight began to fail, she asked her only granddaughter to read to her. Sarah learned at an early age that women were important in a marriage to teach the children right from wrong and to be a helpmate to her husband. So now, she was bound to Henny Casterloer until death parted them.

She also knew she was supposed to submit to Henny but after their wedding night her only feeling was contempt.

Thinking now of her husband, with his bright red hair, ruddy face and stout body she knew she should have prayed more and waited longer. For what she was not sure, but she was sure it was someone other than Henny. Jewel, her mother, went so far as to inform her that women at age twenty-two had been put on the shelf so she was lucky to find a man who wanted to marry her. Her mother was not being cruel but Sarah knew Jewel Johnson gave a sigh of relief when her only child finally found a husband.

When the idea of marriage was put to Henny, he had no problem consenting to marry her. He had caught up with her one morning, two days prior to their marriage, when she was walking to the market. She could tell by the smoke and cheap perfume clinging to his clothes that he had not been home all night. His eyes had roamed over her body, he had licked his thick lips then said he was honored to be marrying her and could hardly wait until their wedding night. He also informed her that her money may be buying the land, but it belonged to him and he would be the boss on his own property.

Well, they would see about that when they got to their land.

Her land.

The ornery bawling of cattle brought Sarah out of her musings as she let her eyes meander across the stream to watch the musters herd the cattle across the widespread water, trying to keep them headed toward shore and not downstream. Two cowboys had been hired by the head wrangler to help him see to the four hundred head of cattle, twelve oxen, and fifty horses.

Sarah swung her gaze back to the struggling wagon where the head wrangler was straddling one of the oxen, trying to ride him and the wagon out of the mud-sucking water.

The head wrangler was a sight to behold.

Beau Taggart.

Sarah admired the strength in the man, watching muscles bulge in his arms beneath the brown cotton shirt as he forced the oxen to move forward. His strong thighs encased in walnut colored canvas pants gripped the heaving sides of the animal as they moved forward as one.

She watched Mr. Taggart sit a horse and had to admit his seat was graceful and natural. All outward appearances were very pleasant to the eye, but when he pushed back that black hat and let his gray eyes sweep across her, Sarah always shivered as she was doing now, not sure if it was from a sudden breeze on her damp hair or his admiring gaze. She acknowledged that Mr. Taggart’s deeply tanned face and longish black hair were very attractive, but he was a man of mystery. Someone to be wary of and as a married woman someone she shouldn’t waste her time thinking about.

Sarah’s nimble fingers continued to braid her long blonde hair where it lay against the soft cloth of her cotton dress. It had been more than an hour since her crossing, plenty of time for the hot summer air to dry her clothes. She was so glad she won the argument with her mother over discarding her corset. Jewel was always properly attired and wanted Sarah to be also. The only proper way to wear a dress, according to Jewel Johnson was to wrap the female body in a corset so that her chest was flat and her waist tightly cinched.

Sarah lived by this propriety when they were traveling by train, even with the stench from the cattle cars and the dust that blew into the open windows, but after unloading from the Chesapeake & Ohio Railroad in Virginia and a week on the trail, she threw her corset in her trunk, refusing to wear it another hour. She even won an argument with her mother that the garment put restraints on her handling the oxen as well as crawling up and down onto the high wagon. Much to her surprise her mother and the other women of the small wagon train discarded theirs less than a week later. If she had been wearing a corset when she fell off her wagon she hated to think what would have happened to her. The least of her problems would have been that the stiff garment would have still been wet and clammy under her dress.

Sarah remembered once again how it felt to be sucked down into the muddy water and feel it rush into her mouth when she opened it to scream, causing her to choke and sink further down into the muck. If she hadn’t grabbed the churning wheel, she wasn’t positive what would have happened.

Straining every muscle in her body, she had managed to pull herself up the wheel and back onto the wooden bench, trying to catch her breath and move the oxen forward at the same time. That was when she had noticed the black horse treading water beside the wagon and Beau Taggart’s handsome facial muscles pulled into a worried frown. She didn’t have time to wonder at his attention to her plight or the speed in which he responded to her spill into the water because she was too busy coughing or pulling on the reins when the oxen had wanted to stop in their fight against the current.

Sweat dotted her face just thinking she could have died in the rolling waters but she knew if she hadn’t saved herself, Beau Taggart would have. Pulling a handkerchief from the pocket of her travel-worn dress, she swiped it across her face and neck as she breathed deeply of the summer air. The mountains had been cool and pleasant even though the air had been so thin at times it had been difficult to breath, but now they were out of the mountains and the air was much warmer and humid.

She checked the braid for loose strands before tying it off with a ribbon. Sarah had never been vain about her looks but she knew her blonde hair and blue eyes were attractive. She also knew her body was firm and trim. She had walked everywhere she went in New York City. To the market, to see friends,