Jonathan's Journey

By Arthur Hamilton

Born the second son of a woman farmer, south of Salem, North Carolina, young Jonathan Henry Hamilton strikes out on his own in 1835, and becomes an overseer on a large slave Plantation. His actions and rapport with others, especially his gang of Bounders, as the slaves were called on the Bethania Plantation, made him very popular, particularly with the daughter of the plantations owner.
With His bride, and four bounders, who he frees, Jonathan strikes out for the territory, and soon to be state of Arkansas, and an arsenal of adventure, including the helping of a group of Eastern Cherokee from Georgia, who had escaped the Trail of Tears and taken refuge in the Great Smoky Mountains after the discovery of the gold on their homelands had caused them to be chased out of Georgia by the greed of the whites and US President Andrew Jackson. Jons reward for this help was enough gold to purchase all the lands, manpower, materials and even little town on the Saint Francis river in Northeast Arkansas to build a rice empire.
The struggles of Empire building finally start paying off and Jonathans family and Moses landing ark begins to prosper. But, there is trouble on the horizon! The issue of slavery causes problems in all the western states and Arkansas orders all free Negroes to leave, including the now 100 plus working the crops at Moses landing. Soon the civil war breaks out, and Jonathans oldest gains the union army in Saint Louis. While his second son and son-in-law join the confederatecy. At least one encounter in Missouri, pitting his sons against each other along with the absence of news of their whereabouts, only add to the stress Jon faces, trying to get his crops to market down the Mississippi to New Orleans, through a gauntlet of gunboats and emplacements. If all climates hen union gunboats and troops ascend the Saint Francis river to do battle with the Empire of Jonathan Henry Hamilton.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 30, 2015
• ISBN: 9781499068931

Arthur Hamilton

Born on his mother’s family homestead in North Dakota, during the Great Depression, three straight crop failures brought Hamiltons by the score, west to Eatonville, Washington where Arthur (Pat) has called home for over seventy years. After “short careers” in building homes, logging, lumber mills, Air Force, real estate, insurance, laminated wood beans, and wholesale drugs, it was time to retire and find other activities. Art wrote poetry, then short stories, and finally decided to try writing a novel. Walla! “Jonathan’s Journey”

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Jonathan’s

JOURNEY

ARTHUR HAMILTON

Copyright © 2014 by Arthur Hamilton.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

In reading Jonathan’s Journey, you may recognize names of people, places, events, etc…I purposely tried to work-in true places and events of history. Nontheless, this novel is completely and absolutely fiction.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 09/05/2014

Xlibris

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

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CONTENTS

Acknowledgements

Prologue

Chapter I:

Chapter II:  Margaret Rose McAllister

Chapter III:  Jonathan Henry Hamilton

Chapter IV:  The Blues

Chapter V:  Appalachia

Chapter VI:  The Cumberlands

Chapter VII:  Home Sweet Home

Chapter VIII:  The Empire Cometh

In Gratitude

For their support, and much-needed help, I would like to thank the following, and hope I didn’t forget someone:

Lynda Mozel

Mike Jefferies

Judy West

Anita Dawkins

VGMB – Grace Moose

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I have a lot of people to thank for their encouragement along with the following: Virginia Grace Moore, for her editing and suggestions early before getting sick; Judy East and Mike Jefferies editors of the local newspaper in my little town; Anita Dawkins for coming up with the title for this manuscript and a possible sequel and last but not least, Lynda Mozel, for all her computer work in my behalf.

PROLOGUE

Diary of Margaret Rose (McAllister) Hamilton

October 24, 1835

Married at last, and to a man I truly love. It was worth all the naughty behavior. I have the man I wanted, Jonathan Henry Hamilton, and I need no longer worry about the matches Mother kept making for me. And what a wedding it was, some say the largest ever in North Carolina. Friends and family are here after traveling many miles and days. Brother Allston came all the way from Chic Wood in South Carolina, and Uncle Silas is here from Baltimore, Maryland. I now have a wonderful extended family. My new father and mother by marriage, Alex and Martha Hamilton, are so nice to me. And new brother Drew is more rowdy than Jonny. But I am too tired and sore to decide how happy I am. I hope I can talk my Jonny out of moving us out of Bethania. I will update this later.

CHAPTER I

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There it was again.

Click-a-clack. Click-a-clack.

What the blazes is that? Jonathan thought, still in a dreamy stupor.

Click-a-clack. Click-a-clack.

Damn that blasted noise! Jon tried to open his eyes. One was stuck, and the other saw nothing. It was very black. His mouth snapped open in a yawn, and the resulting exhale of air smelled like a water closet. The brain was finally starting to function, and Jon suddenly felt sopped.

Buggers, I’m wringing wet! The bed under him was soaked. Alert now, he smiled broadly. I wonder if it’s from the covers or the cockelling? He reached back and patted the hump under the heavy quilt. Jonathan Henry Hamilton had just married Margaret Rose McAllister, daughter of Master Samuel McAllister the Second, of the Bethania Plantation in North Carolina.

I wonder what time it is. It must be blamed early. I cannot see doodly.

The click-a-clack sounded again from outside, and Jon was now determined to find out what the blazes had awakened him. Toes touched carpet, and long bones stretched upward. Suddenly, Jon’s head was wrapped in rough cloth. He thought he heard a crack mixed with the click-a-clacks. He knew he had tangled with the velvet canopy of Maggie’s huge bed. Freeing himself, Jon peered into the dark room.

There must be a cussed window here someplace. He staggered to his left, arms pointed straight ahead. He found a wall and palmed his way forward. His hand caught the drape just as his toe caught the chair.

AHHHH! Hell’s fire, that smarts! A groan sprang from under the canopy. Jonathan spread the heavy drapes open and peered through the lacy curtain. Beams of light created strange dancing shadows, and a sinking North Carolina moon still cast a light on the activity below.

Lordy, we must be fifty paces above the ground! Jon now focused his eyes on the commotion in front of the mansion. A broader grin stretched his cheeks.

Maggie. Wake up, Maggie dear. Our carriage is waiting. Not a stir emitted from under the quilt. House bounder Mose D. had already hitched two horses to the large wagon. Jonathan recognized Sloggy and Smutty, his team number fifteen.

Click-a-clack. Click-a-clack.

Mose was leading a second team of horses to the front of Sloggy and Smutty.

Good job, Mose. That wagon is loaded too heavy for Slog and Smut alone. I’ll bet Maggie has everything but the chamber pot in there. Jonathan had forgotten the tiredness, sore loins, and stubbed toe. Excitement boiled in his veins.

At last it’s here! October 24, 1835, Migrate Day. Jonathan glanced back at Maggie’s huge featherbed. The light from the window seemed to magnify its size. The four shiny cherrywood posts stretched the red velvet canopy. The only thing out of place was that hump under the quilt.

I’ll fix that, he said. Jonathan leapt onto the quilt and heard that crack again. Wake up, Maggie. Arkansas is waiting. Strange noises and moans emitted from the quilt. Jon started patting and rubbing the hump. Finally, some red hair emerged from the quilt, along with some unintelligible mumbles.

It speaks. Jon increased his rubbing.

A slow cracking voice muttered, What time is it?

Time to get those kajoobies out of this crib and ready for Arkansas, said Jon, who jumped up and sprang to the other large window.

But it’s still dark.

Of course, it’s dark, my silly little pullet. We are leaving at dawn. Remember?

The red hair disappeared back under the quilt, accompanied by more moans. The flickering lights of torches below announced the two huge dark torsos approaching the carriage portico. Mose was leading another giant, a big gray horse named Corker. Master Samuel had grudgingly given up Corker to the newlyweds last night at the wedding reception. Nineteen hands at the shoulders and can outpull any team on Bethania, the master had said.

I sure hope he’s well broke, said Jon to himself, and docile.

He noticed the hump still lying still under the quilt. Taking a deep breath, he put forth a high shrieking whistle. The quilt jumped; and the red hair, pale limbs, and long white shirt appeared. Jon was surprised to see clothing but still enjoyed the sight of his beautiful wife.

When did you cover the apple cart, Maggie?

When you finally wore down and fell asleep.

The last time I noticed, you were a buffer.

Like you are?

Jon suddenly realized his nakedness. He turned around. Sort of like this, he said.

Do you like my chemise?

Looks like a shirt to me. I can still see the little nipper.

I put it on when I was writing in my diary. I was cold.

"Cold? You must be a trifle batchy, Sissy. It’s hotter than the fires of hell in here."

Stop calling me Sissy! I told you only Daddy calls me that. You know I don’t like that name.

Jon laughed aloud. He knew how to rig Maggie’s attic. Your daddy is now my daddy too, so I’ll stop calling you Sissy when we are on our way to Arkansas, and dandy Daddy can no longer call you Sissy either. So get dressed, Sissy.

Jon glanced back outside as the shoe hit his back. Bounder Mose D. was now tying Pasha to the back of the wagon, beside Corker, who dwarfed Pasha. Pasha was the pure white Arabian stallion Master Samuel had purchased and had gelded for Maggie’s twenty-first birthday.

What a magnificent creature, Jon thought. The custom-made silver studs on Pasha’s halter sparkled as they caught the torches’ lights. Jon was thinking about feeding all these animals over the long journey to Arkansas, and he was glad that Mose was coming along. Jon barely heard the testy words from Margaret Rose that he wasn’t your daddy, and Sissy wasn’t going to Arkansas. Maggie might, etc.

Well, what should I call your daddy? Master Samuel? Father-in-law? Pop-off McAllister?

I think he would like Papa Sam, quipped Maggie.

Okay, but if he takes back the horses, you’re walking to Arkansas!

He won’t. You know I can talk him out of anything.

"Talk? It’s con him. Anyway, the rig to Arkansas is loaded and ready for the Hamiltons."

Oh, why don’t we just stay here in my room for a few days of rest and roger? We’re in no hurry.

Oh no you don’t, my pretty plum! This trip was part of your vows. No back-bantering now!

Maggie grinned and gestured to Jon. Perhaps I might persuade you in another way.

Two long strides and Jonathan was on top of Margaret Rose. Persuade away, my pretty piece, and see where it leads you.

Thirty minutes later, Margaret worried. I hope Nunky Mose gets all my holdings in the wagon.

Jonathan answered with a kiss and swat to Margaret’s derriere, I told him to only pack the raggery we need for the trip.

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Diary of Margaret Rose (McAllister) Hamilton

October 24, 1835

I must finish my notes from last night. The wedding was an affair to remember. Jonny called it a babbling bear garden. But am I happy? I fear today will be my last on my beloved Bethania. Oh, how can I survive without dear Daddy, and my mother and brothers? Dear me, I miss them already! Thank goodness I’ll have Nunky Mose and Nanty Ella along and was able to talk Daddy into letting me bring Buel along too, even though I know Jonny was opposed to it. Poor Jonny has a load to handle and worry about. But I have faith in my new husband. I love him madly, and I’m proud to have his child swelling in my belly. Oh, what a day this has been . . .

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Jonathan’s plan was to head due west, along the Yadkin River; find the Boone Gap through the Blue Ridge Mountains to Fort Patrick Henry; then take the Wilderness Road to Kentucky. They would then follow the Cumberland River to Nashville. He had heard rumors that the old Daniel Boone trail was now a corduroy road, dangerous to horses. Maybe it’s better now, thought Jon. They would soon see. By the time his son was born, they would be on their new plantation in southern Arkansas. But what if it was a fluff?

Jon smiled, as he patiently waited for Maggie to appear from inside the Mansion of Bethania. He thought he wouldn’t mind having a daughter either. Mose and he would be able to farm his plantation.

Wow, I’ll have 320 acres of farm. That’s over four times what brother Drew will inherit, Jon said to himself.

Jonathan’s thoughts turned back to the crowd that was assembled under the portico and the heavy load in his wagon. It was now midmorning, and Jon had said his goodbyes to the crowd several times and held steadfastly against the demands, please, and sobs of the master’s family.

If you stay, I’ll give you all the farm you need, bordering the Yadkin, pleaded the master, Samuel McAllister.

Thank you, Master Papa Sam, but I am excited about this chance. Arkansas is a new adventure, and I must try it. Maybe someday we’ll come back and take you up on your generous offer.

But you are both too young, sobbed Susan Ashley McAllister, mistress of Bethania and Jon’s new mother-in-law.

I am twenty years old, and Maggie is twenty-one. How old must we be? was Jon’s answer.

Would it not be better if you and Mose went first, started your farm, then come back or send for Sissy and Ella?

No, ma’am, Mama Sue. Maggie must be with me to get the full 320 acres.

Susan was now sobbing uncontrollably. Jonathan had to chuckle. Even bent over sobbing, Susan McAllister was a head taller than Master Sam. Jon was sure glad Maggie resembled her mother instead of her father.

Jon was anxious to get started. He sucked in a deep breath, and his shrill whistle pierced the gossip of the crowd. Maggie, get crackin’! he shouted. Red hair appeared from the hand-carved double doors.

Just a minute, came the return.

Dammit, you said the same two hours ago. Snap to it, or you will end up a new grass widow!

Jon thought that Mama Sue should be happy if that happened.

Around the corner of the mansion appeared Jon’s older brother, Andrew, leading the big red horse named Dandy. Jon felt relief from his mother-in-law’s sobs, and beckoned Andrew to his wagon.

About to cut out, brother Drew?

Yeah, brother, I should have trotted long ago, but I had to rejigger the head.

Got tangle footed, huh?

Tangle footed and obfuscated.

Both brothers laughed. How was the poke party, brother Jon?

You should know, Drew. I saw you playing slap and tickle with that Johnstone grinch.

Ha! Yeah, brother Jon, too bad she had her whole bee along.

After a few chuckles, Andrew asked, How are you going to feed your herd?

Well, I have some grains in the boot, but I fear not near enough.

You need another wagon, maybe a buckboard.

The master has already given me a pile. Dare I con him for more, brother Drew?

Bamboozle him out of his skivvies if you’re able. It’s your last chance.

Righto. I’ll try.

Jonathan now suddenly felt pangs of fear that he may never see his family again. Will you tell our sister goodbye for me?

Bet your trimmings I will. Did you talk with Mother and Dad?

Mother didn’t cotton to the sprout in the kilter.

Do tell. The little boot showed through Maggie’s fig out.

I know, and Mother saw it. I thanked them for the Hawken and told them I’d see them again soon.

Gum gripper!

Bite bear, brother. I will see you all again.

Time will tell, gummer. Take good care.

I will. So long, brother Drew.

Andrew jumped up on Dandy’s back, turned his back to Jon, and rode away through the iron gates and on to Salem.

Damn. I thought I could keep my lids dry.

Margaret Rose was now flitting through the crowd, hugging, kissing, sobbing, and bidding farewell to each. Jonathan had to chuckle at the names and shapes of house bounder and fellow traveler Ella’s offspring. Nine were lined up in a row. Master Samuel McAllister had a special name for all his slaves, which he called bounders. There was the oldest, Lenny Lightbark McAllister, who was the son of Master McAllister for certain, Maggie had said.

He’s a lot older than I am, thought Jon, who didn’t know the next two, a very black pear-shaped Nan and a dark brown Tom, who was much shorter than his siblings. Jon had seen him working in one of the tobacco barns. Jon recognized the tall light-complected Andy Androsterone, who maintained the houses on Bounder Row and was secretly charged with the job of getting as many Nans pregnant as possible to increase the master’s holdings. The next was the tall buxom Esther Blowby McAllister, a creamy tan beauty. Then Buelah Botcherbuns, who was Maggie’s maid and close friend. Next to Buelah stood one of Jonathan’s favorite bounders, Danny Doubleclutch, a teener with light skin, who helped get the teams ready in the mornings and back in their diggings at night. Jon hadn’t realized that Danny was one of Ella’s sons.

That wet nose is a fireball. I wish I was taking him along to Arkansas. Jon studied the next two, a dark girl, about fourteen or fifteen, and a very black boy, probably about twelve. Jon wondered where the others were. Maggie had told him that Ella bore thirteen children. The nine present were a strange sight, tall and short, young and old, and ranging in color from honey to coal. They all knew that this would be the last time they would ever see their mother, yet strangely all stood silent, waiting their turns to kiss and hug and convey their grief and goodbyes. Quite the opposite effects were being displayed by the whites, even though they all felt certain they would meet again in a few years, when good roadways were carved through the Blues. Maggie started down this lineup with her hugs, which she seemed to prolong with the oldest, Lenny. She almost skipped Esther in favor of her own maid, Buelah. They openly cried in each other’s arms. Maggie turned toward Jonathan, seemingly ignoring her father.

Can’t we take Buelah along?

Where would we put her and how would we feed her?

Daddy will help. Please?

Ask your father. We need a buckboard too.

Like hell! I’ve given you a bundle already! I might as well move to Arkansas with my doings! bellowed Samuel.

Margaret Rose scrambled back to hug and plead with her much shorter father again. Please, Daddy! You know we need all those things to survive.

I don’t want you to go, Sissy. Stay, and you two can have all you need.

But I promised Jonny. It’s part of our vows. You wouldn’t want me to lie, would you? Please, Daddy?

Master Sam looked around at the assembled crowd, pausing to look long and hard at his sobbing wife, Susan. Maggie was hugging and kissing him very intensely. Please, Daddy, she said again.

What’s this? Jonathan thought. Jonathan thought he had detected a tear running down the mockered face of Master Sam. I did see it, right into his dundrearies, he said to himself.

Alright! Dammit to hell, take what you need. Samuel turned away from his daughter’s clasp and wiped away his tears with the bottom of his vest. Maggie and Buelah started hugging and crying together, and were joined by the happy mother of Buelah.

Ella, it’s time to name the little nipper before you all depart. Bring him here.

Yassa, Massa Sam.

Jonathan watched as Ella appeared from the crowd, pulling the little burrhead, which Jon had judged to be about twelve.

Holy hell, another passenger? Jon muttered. Let’s see. That makes Mose D., Ella, Buelah, Maggie and I, and now this little legbiter. Maybe Papa Sam is right. He should go to Arkansas, and I’ll stay here and run Bethania.

I hereby christen thee Chipper Cheechako McAllister, the happy rookie, said Master Sam of the burrhead.

Scattered applause ripped through the crowd, but Jon noticed the rigid silence from the row of Ella’s offspring. Master Sam had now christened all thirteen of Ella’s sprouts, even sired some of them, a smiling Jonathan thought.

The more the merrier! Blast, I’ve got two fine teams of horses pulling a new heavy wagon full of Maggie’s dowry, tools, cotton, corn and tobacco seeds, plants, some food, money, a conniving wife, a giant bounder with his wife, daughter, and sprout, an extra banger of a horse, and Maggie’s prancer Pasha. And now another buggy! Hell, I’m bloated! Mose, will you go to the carriage house and pick out a buckboard? Put your grub in it, along with feed and grain.

Yassa, Massa Jon, said the big bruiser as he headed for Barn Row.

Master Jon? Jon thought. He must remember to tell Mose that he was a free man and would share the new farm with Jon. As soon as they got off Bethania, all of his group will be free, including himself, Jon thought.

Ella was quietly saying goodbye to her boodle, and Jonathan wondered if she and Mose would want to keep their names that Master Sam had tagged them with. He grinned at the thought of their names: Mose Dasilvalentis McAllister, meaning big, strong, yet meek. Jon’s grin became even wider, from ear to ear, when he thought of Ella’s name: Ella Elevated McAllister, named for the position of her legs every time Master Sam saw her. He was laughing now as Master Sam approached.

Now, son, you can head south to Salisbury and Charlotte, and catch the road west to White’s Fort in Tennessee. I think they now call it Knoxville. There’s a good road from there to Nashville, and I hear a corduroy road to the Mississippi. But I think the better way would be north to Abingdon, and catch the Great Valley Road to White’s Fort and then the Nashville Road.

Thank you, Papa Sam, but Maggie and I decided to trot up the Yadkin through Boone’s Gap. That way, we can see the Cumberland Gap, and follow the river to Nashville.

But Boone’s Gap is a corduroy. Those horses are too valuable to lose! Sam bellowed through his baraclave. And besides, the river is difficult to cross west of here!

Jon was relieved to see Mose driving a buckboard with another team of horses. I promise I’ll be damned careful.

Just the same, I’m not losing another team.

How will I pull the buckboard? Jonathan asked.

You bamboozled me out of Corker. Use him! He can pull this big wagon alone. The pitted face of the master was popping.

Righto. Thank you, Papa Sam. Danny, will you take Corker back, and you and Mose rig a single yoke on that buckboard so Corker can pull it?

Yassa, came the answer from bounder Danny Doubleclutch, who jumped up on Corker and led Mose and his carriage back to the barn. Jon flopped his tall lean frame on the manicured lawn in front of the mansion. He was getting dandered.

This adventure is becoming a blunderbutt. He wondered if they would ever get cleared out.

Mistress Susan was again crying openly, head down in her facecloth, her red beaver tail sticking straight out behind her. Maggie enveloped her in an embrace. It will be fine, Mother. I’ll be back to visit in no time at all.

Not very convincing, blown through tears, thought Jon.

Buelah, start the ball rolling. Climb into the wagon and find a comfy seat behind the bench.

Yassa. Buelah Botcherbuns didn’t need any help. She kissed her boyfriend, Buff, and jumped up into the wagon.

Maggie, it’s time to get those dazzle sticks into the wagon.

Margaret Rose was still comforting her mother. Just a minute.

No! You’ve gobble-gummed long enough. Get cracking!

Maggie gathered her family into a wailing huddle. Her three younger brothers, Sammy, Virgil, and Miles, joined in.

Okay, Jonny. I’ll be there in a minute.

Damn. I think I’m going barmy, Jon reflected. If I don’t split soon, I’ll go cockamamie. Ella, you, the boot, and Chipper will ride with Mose in the buckboard.

Yassa, Massa Jon. One last review of her lot, and Ella grasped the hand of little Chipper and strode toward Barn Row. Jon saw nary a tear.

That’s the last time she will call me master. One more time, he mentally checked his list of booty. Hell’s fires, I finally think I’m ready!

From the huddle, Maggie called out, Jonny, Daddy wants to know if you can use a cow.

I’ve got a batch of animals already. What in the hell would I do with a cow?

Milk for y’all and meat if you need it! bellowed Master Samuel McAllister. Mose drinks a lot of milk, and the Chipper can use it as well, he added.

Hell’s bells, bring it on! The more the merrier!

Lenny, run to the carriage house, and have Mose tie on a cow, ordered Sam.

Yassa, Lenny hurriedly headed for Barn Row.

Doesn’t this just cap the climax? Jon asked no one in particular. He noticed the outstretched hand of master overseer, Lental McRae, and grabbed it in a hearty shake.

Looks like ye be a-gettin’ that farm after all, Jon Hamilton.

If I ever get on the road, Jock.

Not to worry, son. Ye’ll be a movin’ along soon.

I hoped to be moving this morning.

Denny, you worry. Ye’ll be a-still making the Yadkin by nightfall. It be a lunchin’ time the now.

Well, I ain’t hungry. If we don’t cut out soon, I’ll be a gone coon. Jon turned in Margaret Rose’s direction. Get in the wagon, Maggie! he shouted.

That brought a chuckle from Lental. Ye kinned this wen ye marry her.

Yeah, right. If she dallies on the trail, I might leave her in the Blues. More chuckles from the pair and a final handshake.

Take good care of yourself, son. I’ll be a listenin’ for a word from ye. I should be a goin’ along to keep the eye on ye.

Might as well, Jock. I’m getting a pile. But we won’t have any bounders in Arkansas.

Then I be a-stayin’. I need the job. Good luck, Jon Hamilton.

So long, Jock, and thanks. Lental headed back to the barns.

Okay, I’m ready, said the tear-stained face of Maggie.

And just in time. Jon felt relief as he saw the buckboard coming, pulled by Corker, and Mose was driving. It was leaning to one side, even though the little wagon was stacked. Ella and Chipper sat crammed on the bench beside Mose.

It’s about midday now, figured Jon, as he helped his pregnant wife climb onto the wagon’s bench. Buelah squealed and hugged Maggie, as Jon surveyed his boodle. Danny and Lenny jumped off the buckboard and lined back up with their siblings, who were waving to Ella. The cow behind looked to be young and well-shaped to Jon. Tie her on beside Pasha, behind the wagon.

Yassa, Master Jon, came the deep voice of Mose, who stepped from the buggy to handle the command.

Mose, from now on, it’s Jon.

Yassa, Mas… Yassa, Jon, Mose said with a big smile.

You follow me so you can watch the wagon and animals.

Yassa, Okay, Jon. More smiles.

Okay, let’s get cracking, and blow Bethania. Jon ran to the lead wagon and paused. He reached into the wagon’s boot and brought out his birthday present from his family, a brand-new St. Louis Hawken. He grabbed the flask, poured the powder and ball down the barrel, and rammed it home. Then he placed the cap under the hammer and fired into the air. Arkansas, here we come! he shouted. Jon then leaped up onto the bench. Let’s scoot before something else happens.

Tears were running over Maggie’s freckles. Will I ever see them again?

I promise, my pretty plum. Jon yelled at Danny, Hey, Danny, what are the names of the lead team?

Team numba five, Jake an’ Red, came the reply.

Jon now noticed they were a handsome pair of Chestnuts. Roll, Jake. Up, Red! Go, Slog. Go, Smut!

The heavy wagon started down Carriage Way. Screams, waves, hollers, and cheers ripped the air. Maggie blew kisses from wet cheeks and lips. Buelah was even crying, as the strange band slowly made its way through the tall, fancy-patterned iron gate of Bethania.

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I’m hot, Maggie said for the fourth or fifth time.

So am I, was Jon’s retort, and your feet hurt.

How did you know that?

Because you’ve been tongue waggin’ all afternoon.

Have you been listening?

I told you not to dress so plummy.

I know, but I had to dress fine for Daddy’s last viewing.

He couldn’t see you through the tears.

You didn’t see Daddy cry. You’re just gum-beating.

His baraclave was dripping on his eelskins!

Liar. Maggie slapped at Jon’s arm, You big bunco bunny!

Jonathan was laughing. Where did you learn that blabber?

From you. She laughed. Let’s stop, Jonny. I’ve got to loosen my strappings.

We’ve stopped twice already. We need to catch the Yadkin before dark.

But this bodice is burning me up!

Poor Maggie, thought Jon. She’s got to be comfortless in all that garb. Okay, my pretty plum. But I want you to get out of all that frock. Whoa, Red! Whoa, Jake!

Well, maybe not all, Jonny. That would be embarrassing.

Both wagons came to a stop. Jonathan jumped down, then helped Maggie and Buelah touch ground. Mose started fetching a bucket of water for the animals.

Let’s grain them a little too, Mose.

Yasser, Massa, er, Jon.

No more master! That goes for ya all! Jon shouted. We’re all starting a new life, free.

The three women were walking away, through cut tobacco stalks. And, Maggie, we’re not going to be embarrassed by each other. Before this trip is over, we’ll all be wearing Eve’s togs.

The women were now about two hundred feet away, and their giggles and chatter were easily heard. Little Chipper was helping Mose with the watering. No one knew for sure if Mose was Chipper’s father, as Ella was only given permission to marry Mose a couple of years earlier.

Buelah and I want you to be the first in Eve’s togs, Jonny! shouted Maggie through the chitchat. Is it Okay if Buelah and Ella help me too?

Mmmm. I’ll have to think about that. Jon could see that Maggie was out of her flowered dress, and was being helped with the straps of her undergarment. Throw that damn thing away! he yelled. More giggles.

Haven’t you got other things to do besides gawk?

That’s going to be my life-long job. Jon wasn’t sure if he was heard through the flap jaw. He checked the sun, getting close to the hills ahead. They must have treaded for four hours or more by now. The river’s got to be close, he thought. It was difficult to judge how many miles they had traveled over the rolling humps of the Piedmont.

Mose was balancing two buckets at once, feeding the lead team, while Chipper was watering Pasha. It was a good thing Mose thought of those buckets.

The women were headed back now, and Maggie had her flowered dress on again. Jon wondered what bundling she had under it. He grinned. He was going to find out. Did you leave that cotton drag behind?

None of your business! Maggie retorted.

Oh, but you are my business now, and don’t forget it, my pretty. Jon wrapped his huggers around her, hands probing.

Enough of that now, big boy. Help me back up.

With pleasure. He grabbed left hands, and grabbed rump with the right. Maggie squealed, planted her foot in the wagon, and kicked. Jon jumped back. She had some undergarments on under the flowers.

Where’s that whip, Buelah? Maggie jokingly asked.

Oh my. It’s under the seat.

Throw it, Maggie. No place for blacksnakes in this family, Jon said.

I’m keeping it to keep you in line, she replied.

Jon observed that Mose and Chipper had now finished with the animals, and were putting buckets away. Okay, gang, let’s pad the hooves. Next stop is the Yadkin.

The wagons slowly moved west, chasing the glaring sun. It seemed a long while later that this odd band peered over a steep bank, observing a long, narrow valley, heavy with trees. The river should be in those woods, said Jonathan.

It had better be, teased Maggie, or your demise will be duly recorded in my diary.

Over daar, pointed Mose. Eyes followed the direction of the long, strong black arm, to an opening in the forest. They could see the river, and Jon thought he could see the Boone Road on the other side, at least two miles away.

How much rope did we bring, Mose? asked Jonathan.

We has plenty to get down, was the reply.

Good. This hill looks blamed steep.

Sho ’nuff is. We needs da horses pullin’ back.

We can use Smut and Slog as cock horses to let the wagons down slowly. But I’m worried about the animals.

I be walkin’ ’em down, said Mose.

Yeah. Let’s put down the hammer. It’s getting late.

We starts with Corker. He breaks trail.

Righto. Let’s tie down the fixens in the buckboard. Mose, will you get the braids pinned to Smut and Slog?

Was yu means, Jon?

Oh, sorry. Will you attach the rope to the buckboard and to the team?

Sho ’nuff.

How far down do you reckon, Mose?

’Bout long as Barn Row.

Damn. That’s probably three hundred feet. Better put an extra grip on these tie-downs.

The buckboard was finally ready. The big Corker stood ready at the brink. Mose had the rope tied to the back axle and stretched to team fifteen in the distance, to the rear.

You’ve got the bone breaker, Mose. What would you like me to do?

Yus stan’ here and keeps dem ropes straight.

Okay, but who will handle the ribbons?

Ella handles hosses fo yers.

Righto, but I want you to harness up to the buckboard.

Yassar, I do. Ease dem slows forward, Shogar.

I’s do, Daddy, was Ella’s reply, as she hurried back to handle Smut and Slog. The stage was set.

Good luck, Mose. When you’re ready, said an anxious Jonathan. Mose gave a signal forward, as did Jon to Ella, many yards behind.

Corker shied as Mose talked him forward. The two giants started over the edge. Easy, big Corker. Comes, big fella. The soothing voice of Mose helped, as Corker started downhill, front legs rigid and inching forward, one tiny step at a time, as the hind legs acted as drag, pushing back on the forked tongue of the buckboard.

Maggie was hugging Buelah and Chipper, as they peered over the edge. Jon was digging in heels, as if he were anchoring the tow. He felt relief that Mose was doing the frightful work. Mose had a hand on the bridle, taking Corker a step at a time, as slacking rope allowed.

Inch by inch, then foot by foot, the small heavily loaded wagon rolled, skidded, and slid down the hill. Jonathan judged that they were over one hundred feet down, when he noticed an even steeper grade just ahead of Corker and Mose.

Hold it! Jon hollered down, and raised his arms at Ella, who stopped the team. How goes it, Mose? Looks scary! he shouted.

We be fine, came the answer.

Is that a big drop-off ahead?

Yassa. Is only ah small drop. We be ready.

Okay, easy does it. Jon gave the come on wave to Ella. He thought he could still hear Mose’s steady voice talking to Corker as the two disappeared. Jon heard the C-R-A-C-K and felt the tension slacken in the rope, as the buckboard slipped out of sight.

Whoa! he shouted, and waved frantically at Ella. He could hear the sounds of tumbling plunder and a whinnying Corker. Mose, are you busted? No answer. Hold them steady, Ella! Jon shouted, as he jumped over the edge and propelled himself down the rope. The gaze over the drop-off was frightening. Mose was trying to free himself from the overturned buckboard. He was talking to Corker, who was tangled in the harness and trying to stand. Hang on, Mose. I’ll be right there. Jon could see the rear axle was torn from the buggy on one side, but the rope was holding it fast. How bad are you hurt? he asked as he lifted the corner of the wagon and unhooked Mose, then helped him up.

I’s not sure, Jon. I’s hasta helps Corka. The two men struggled to get the huge horse free from the harness.

The big horse fought to right himself, all three slipping and sliding in the loose soil. Finally, Corker was able to get his front legs straightened and sat on his haunches. He was even huge in that position. Jon was amazed that Mose seemed unhurt, as he stood soothing Corker.

Easy, Corka. Oo dem any bones broken? Mose rubbed and patted the big horse’s sides and flanks. The horse jerked when Mose touched his right rear leg. Whoas, big Corka, as he felt the heavy thigh. I’s walks him on down ta dem bottom, he said to Jon.

Are you hurt, Mose? Jon could see Mose’s cotton drilled shirt and pants were torn.

I’s fine, juss needs to get dem down.

Okay. Just a minute. Jon scrambled to the buckboard and unhooked the rope. The buggy slid down the hill.

Maggie! he shouted, Have Ella bring the team forward.

Okay, Jonny. Is Nunky Mose hurt? came her reply and question.

He says no. He’s a bruiser, but we’re not sure about Corker. Ease the toggles slowly. The rope started sliding down, through Jon’s large grippers.

Tie yourself to the rope, Mose.

Yassa. Mose looped the rope around his waist and grabbed the straps of the horse’s bridle. Alrights, big Corka. Easy now, big fella.

The sharp incline was only fifty or sixty feet, and then continued at about a forty-five-degree angle to a leveling some one hundred feet below, where the slope was slight through the trees to the Yadkin.

Thank God for small favors, Jon thought as he lowered himself. The belongings were scattered below. Jon raised his head and voice to Maggie. Bring ’em to the edge.

Alright, Jonny. Please be careful.

At last they reached the leveling. Jon waved at Maggie, who stopped Ella and team fifteen.

How bad is it? Maggie yelled down to Jonathan.

We’ll answer that when we’ve taken stock.

Mose was walking Corker ahead then back, giant with giant. Corker had a slight limp, favoring the back leg. How is he, Mose?

No broke bones. I’s has some horse grease in dem buckboard.

We’ll find it. Jon started taking inventory. The water was gone, but could be replenished easily at the river. The grain made a path down the hill from the crash site.

How many barrels of grain did we have, Mose?

Threes, came the answer.

Jon noted that one was crushed, and the other two were damaged. One was still about half full, with a pile on the ground. We can salvage this grain. Do we have a shovel?

Yassa. One bes in dem big wagon.

How about this buckboard? A quick check showed that besides the axle being torn loose, the bench was gone, and the right fork of the tongue was broken. That’s what muddled Corker’s leg, thought Jon.

We’s can fixes da wagon. Tools be in big wagon.

Okay. I’ll spring back up and bring back Buelah and the sprout, and some tools. Maybe we can get this plunder picked and the axle fixed before dark.

Yassa.

Jonathan started the first of what would be several trips up the rope, hand over hand. Maggie met him at the top with hugs and tears. Ella still held the team steady, about thirty-five or forty feet from the edge. Take the team back, Ella.

Yassa, Master Jon.

It’s just Jon, Ella.

Yassa, Jon.

Okay, Maggie darlin’, I need to harness Buelah and Chipper to the end of the rope. See if you can dig out a shovel and the tools from the wagon’s boot.

Alright, Jonny. It sounds like you are continuing on.

You bet your bubbaloos we are continuing! Arkansas is waiting for us. Let’s get crackin’!

Buts I’s skeerd. I’s can’t goes down, cried Buelah.

We’re going down together. Your blankets are down there, and I have a job for you before dark.

Buts I’s skeerd, she sobbed.

It will be fine, Buelah. I’ll be with you soon. Maggie was trying to settle Buelah down.

Chipper’s not scared. Are you, Chip? asked Jonathan.

Nossa, said the little trooper.

Good boy. Jon pulled up the end of the rope and made a loop for himself. He was glad Mose had thought to throw strappings into the wagon, and he lashed Buelah to the rope, then Chipper just ahead of her. Maggie had found the shovel, and Jon slung it down the hill. He found one of Maggie’s bonnets and wrapped some tools and wire in it, and tied it to his waist. He thought he’d best take all the tools. He grabbed the wire and wired down the lid of the wooden toolbox and strapped it to the rope ahead of Chipper, then strapped the bonnet back to his waist. Jon hugged and kissed Maggie, and pulled the loop up to his waist.

Ready, Ella? he called, and she waved. Okay, let’s get a wiggle. Jon motioned Ella, and backed off the edge. He grabbed the screaming Buelah’s waist and helped her over. Chipper jumped down, both black hands holding tightly onto the rope. Twice in the first few steps, Buelah’s feet slipped out from under her, but Jon was there to catch her.

We’re all doing fine, he said, but only got sobs from Maggie’s body servant. They passed the crash scene, and Jon started flipping scattered articles on down the hill. Ella had Smutty and Sloggy in a perfect rhythm, and the trip down seemed too easy to Jon.

Whoas! hollered Chipper, about fifty feet from the bottom. Jon repeated the order loudly to Maggie up above, as the tools from the box in front slid past them. The box had broken from the rope and slipped out of its wires. Jon grabbed the box as it tumbled by him.

Pick up the tools, he directed. Chipper got several pieces and handed them back to Buelah.

Mose was just below them and said, Lets dem tools slide on down, Jon, and I’s grabs ’em.

Righto. Jon pushed the box on down, and Mose caught it. Do you see any more, Chip?

Nossa.

Jonathan noted that most of the articles from the overturned buckboard had now been pushed and gathered at the bottom by Mose. As they reached the bottom, Mose was rubbing horse liniment on Corker’s hind leg. Jon helped free Buelah and Chip, and found the shovel and buckets that Mose had stacked.

Take this shovel and scoop up this grain into the buckets, Jon said to Buelah.

I’s does it, said Chipper.

Okay. Be careful not to get dirt in with it.

Yassa, said the munchkin, who short-handled the shovel like a pro.

Good boy. Buelah, will you sort out and stack all our booty so we can load it tomorrow?

Yassa, I’s dos.

Good. Is Corker better, Mose?

Yassar, I’s thinks so. I’s greases him good.

Okay. Then let’s see if we can fix the buckboard.

Is everything alright? came Maggie’s voice from above.

Yes. Relax the team. You and Ella start unloading the wagon.

Why do that?

It’s too heavy to horse down the hill.

Okay, Jonny, will do, answered Maggie.

Mose had already straightened the axle, and Jon could see the U-bolts were in place but were ripped from the floorboards. How do we fix that, Mose?

I’s gets dem axe and cuts dem tree. You’s splits ’em.

Sounds like a smasher. Jon found a splitter and hammer, and the two tall men headed for the woods. Mose found a few trees to his liking, and only a few strokes from the powerful man’s axe fell an eight- or nine-inch tree. He then bucked it at about four feet. Before long, Jon had them split down the middle. They carried the logs back to the buckboard. Jon was amazed at the prowess and skills of the gentle giant, Mose.

You’re a wizard, Mose. Where did you learn this?

I’s be carriage house bounda foe yars.

I’m lucky and tatted to have you and Ella along.

It was almost dark when these two wagoners had splints holding the axle fast to the buckboard, and the tongue fixed with another splint.

Just like new, Mose. Thank you.

It’s be workin’ orights, buts be down in back.

Jon took that to mean that the buckboard would slant down in the back, as Mose had to split the axle blocks so the U-bolts would poke through the splints.

That’s peachy, Mose. Just so it travels.

Its travas, oright. I’s sleeps with Ella under it.

That’s right! You need Ella down here, and I need Maggie up there. Looks like we sleep apart tonight.

Yassar. Ans Buelahs an’ Chips sleeps heer too.

Ah-ha! This will be our honeymoon all over again, thought a grinning Jonathan.

Hey, Maggie, you and Ella wrap the rope to the wagon.

Okay, Jonny. Are you coming up?

Bet your bloomers I’m coming up, and Ella’s coming down. You and me, my fine fluff. No answer to that.

Soon he heard, It’s ready, Jonny. Jon gave a yank on the rope, and started up, hand over hand. He was getting good at climbing and repelling. Hell, I’m half monkey, he thought, as he reached the top.

Ready, Ella?

Yassa, I’s be ready. Ella scrambled over the edge.

Wait. You all need food. It’s in the wagon.

I’m starved, said Maggie.

Yassa. We’s need food. How we’s gets it down?

"Not sure, Ella. What’s in these buckets?

Thisens collards, thisens hominy, chics peas, an’ corn pone.

Which ones do you need for tonight?

Collards, hominy, corn pone.

Drat. Those buckets will spill on the way down.

Can we bring them all back up here? asked Margaret.

Nice try, my pretty plum. But all their night wrap would have to come back up also.

We’s gets by wit corn pone, Massa Jon.

Ella, it’s Jon, not Master Jon. Ella smiled and curtsied. Okay. We’ll wrap up some corn bread and tie to my waist. I think we had better rewrap the rope to the team.

Oh, nosaar. I’s make it down oright, said Ella.

Are you sure?

Yassa. I’s ready, Mass, ah Jon.

Righto. Let’s go then. I’ll be back in a jiff, Mag darlin’.

But it’s too dark, Jonny.

That won’t keep me away, my little minx. Come, Ella.

Jon stepped down over the ledge and, with one hand, helped Ella. Just lean against me, keep a solid grip on the rope, and take small steps backward.

I’s will, Jon, came Ella’s shaky voice ahead of him.

The ageless black woman and young white male eased their way down the hill. Jon figured they were about a quarter way down when Ella’s feet slipped and she started to fall. Jon wrapped his long arm around her and blocked her fall with his body. Are you alright? he asked.

I’s fine. Hows far ta go?

A long piece yet. I’ll steady you. Take off your shoes.

Yassa. I’s do. Whars I’s puts dem?

Here in this bag with the cornbread.

Yassa.

Down the pair went, Ella slipping and clutching rope, Jon keeping her in front of his frame and trying to let the rope slip through his right hand, which he now realized was getting sore. It was too dark to see, but Jon knew when he entered and passed the sharp incline. He suddenly had an idea to wrap his leg around the rope, and it helped the pressure on his hand, but was creeping up his leg to his crotch. Thank God we’re almost there, he thought. Jon could see that Mose had gathered wood and started a fire below.

Almost there, Ella.

Yassa, Jonny. Smiles and relaxed tensions spread to all on the rope and below the rope. Mose climbed up to help the last few feet, and embraced his wife.

He’s surrounded her! She’s disappeared! Jon exclaimed under his breath. Now, is everyone all set?

We makes do fine, said Mose.

Jonny, what’s happening? came the call from above.

I’m on my way back up, Maggie. Get the pad ready.

Be careful. Are you sure you can make it in the dark?

With you at the top, I can run up the rope!

I said be careful, you big lummox!

Get ready. Here I come. I’ll see you all in the morning.

All the ex-bounders said goodbye, and Jon started up hill. He was struggling with the sore hand, but kept climbing. Maggie kept asking how he was doing. Are you there, Jonny, and Where are you, Jonny?

On the path to passion! he answered. He was feeling frisky. Aaah help, I’m falling! he yelled.

Jonny, Jonny, are you alright? from above.

Dos yuz needs help, Jon? from Mose below.

Nah, I’m fine.

Jonny, don’t scare me like that!

BOO! Jon’s head appeared at the edge. He still couldn’t see Maggie, nor she him. She started forward. Stay there, Maggie. Just talk to me.

I’m right here, she said. He started in that direction.

Speak, Maggie dear.

She had snuck around the wagon. I’m here, Jonny.

Jon veered a little to the left. Margaret crept back to the rear of the wagon. Over here, Jonny.

Okay, you can stop playing games.

Why? You were playing games coming up the hill.

I apologize. I’ll never do it again.

Liar. Just stay there. I have a lantern.

Well, light my fire, baby!

I don’t know where the lights are. Why don’t you go back down and bring a light from the bonfire? she teased.

Lordy, you are baffy in the brain box! Both laughed, as Maggie lit the lantern. Jon pulled her to him and planted a long wet kiss on her. Ready to play, bouncebutt?

No. Cool down. I’m hungry as a bear.

Oh yeah! I almost flipped my lid! What’s for supper?

Mama packed some food in the wagon.

Great! Food and futz. Let’s eat!

Can we have a bonfire too? I’m cold.

You’re cold? Again? Don’t fret. This womb wizard will warm you. The only fire sticks up here are ready to romp.

Settle down, Jonny. There’s room for us in the wagon.

You first. I’ll help.

Sure, like you did earlier?

It got you up in a hurry.

Maggie and Ella had unloaded much of the pile, and had stacked what remained to one side, leaving room for the honeymooners to squeeze together, just as Jon liked.

Mama fixed some apple butter for the corn bread.

We’re not very blamed organized. They have the fire. We have the pots and pans. They have the cook! We have the hunger. Oh well, let’s eat. I’m hungry and horny.

So what’s new, big man?

This may be our only time alone for the next five hundred miles.

You’re not very subtle, Jonny.

No need to beat the bush!

The canoodling was fast and furious. Maggie quickly handled Jon’s blue veiner.

Good thing our clan can’t see the buggy bounce.

They’re probably fast asleep, like you should be, Jonny.

Not a bad idea. Jon rolled onto his back and closed his eyes, pulling Maggie on top of him.

Jonny, will the horses be alright?

Jonathan rose up in a hurry. Damn. We better tie them down.

I’ll help you. I hope Pasha is alright.

He is. Let’s see. We have a couple bales of hay.

Right here, Jonny.

Okay. You grab the lamp and come with me.

Just a minute. I’ve got to put some clothes on.

"Oh no you don’t, my little tart. Grab some shoes and jump down here.’

Alright, Jonny.

Pasha was still close, and luckily the two teams were still harnessed together and hadn’t strayed far. But the cow was nowhere to be found.

Mose heard the commotion from below. Is ya all ahrite, Jonny? Mose’s voice pierced the dark.

We can’t find the cow, Mose.

We finds him in des mooning.

I’m an airheaded modocky.

It’s be orites, Jon. He’s not go far. Good night.

Good night down there. To Maggie, Jon added, Let’s give them some hay.

One team of horses was lashed to the left side of the wagon, the other team on the right. Pasha took the same place he had been all day, at the rear.

We’ll give them each a nice little bundle, said Jon.

Alright, Jonny. But we’ll have to break both bales.

Yeah. Let’s make a mat with the remainder, to sleep on.

That sounds wonderful.

And let’s leave a small pile for the cow, just in case.

Jon noticed the quilt. Maggie hadn’t forgotten it. They spread the remainder of the second bale of hay on the floorboards then put a blanket over it. Next the quilt, which Jon lay on and Maggie climbed under, and another blanket over both. Several minutes passed before Jon realized that Maggie had become silent. He felt her shaking, and opened his eyes. Maggie was writing in her journal, tears running from her eyes. She is a wizard, finding room to write, he thought. What’s the matter, Maggie?

You know I miss them.

I know, darlin’. Maybe some sleep will help.

If we could have only gotten away from Bethania! she sobbed.

We’ll be across the river tomorrow.

But will we ever see them again?

Bet your buns we will, no blowing off. More silence. Look at it this way, Maggie. We’re spending the night on our own property.

What do you mean?

This is the land your daddy was going to give us if we stayed put on the plantation.

Say, Jonny, I do believe you’re right!

What’s say we celebrate our holdings, Maggie darling. I stole a bottle of your daddy’s corn juice.

Frowns turned quickly into smiles as Jon dug into his bag under the wagon’s bench.

If Daddy knew this, he would run you out of the country.

Ha, he already has!

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Diary of Margaret Rose (McAllister) Hamilton

October 24, 1835

Our first day on the road to Arkansas, and we had a disaster with the buckboard, which overturned trying to descend a steep hill. More of this in tomorrow’s entry. Enough to say we’re still on Bethania. For the first time in my life, I wish it were smaller! I fear the pain will remain until we have put Bethania behind. Will I ever forget this day? The voices of friends and family still ringing in my ears, the parting hugs and kisses, still warm on my lips, and the tears not even dry from my cheeks. The word farewell still stings in my heart. Leave it then to my Jonny to warm our innards, and our souls, with Daddy’s corn liquor.

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The wagon shook violently. It woke Jonathan and Margaret with a start. Maggie hugged Jon in fright. What’s happening, Jonny? More shaking.

What the blazes is that? Jon was quickly putting on his nether garments. Oh, my aching bones.

I’m scared, Jonny. The wagon seemed to come up off its wheels on the off side.

I’ve heard of earthquakes, but I’ve never seen one, said Jon. You better put on some togs. He slipped into his trousers and jumped out of the wagon. The horses were nervously prancing and pulling on their reins. Jon noticed that the cow’s pile of hay was still on the ground, untouched. The rope contracting and then tightening was the cause of the shaking. Jon stepped toward the edge of Hamilton Hill, just as Ella and Mose’s faces appeared. No wonder the cussed wagon was shaking, Jon thought. They were lucky the wagon didn’t tip over down the hill.

G’morn’, Jonny, said Ella.

This is a pleasant surprise. To Maggie, he said, It’s Ella and Mose, Maggie.

I’ll be out in a minute.

Maggie thinks there are only sixty seconds in a day. Jon smiled. Both Mose and Ella laughed, and Jon was happy that they understood and appreciated his humor.

Dem cow no show? asked Mose.

No. I was just about to go looking, Jon lied.

Orites. Ferst I’s has dem bucksboard tied ta rope.

What’s your plan?

We’s pulls dem up an’ has breekfiss.

Sounds good. We use the buckboard to transport our booty. I’m starved.

You’re always hungry, came the voice from the redhead in the wagon. The red-haired beauty stepped out wearing a colorful cossack.

Ferst we’s ties dem rope ta dem teams, said Mose.

Okay. They’re still harnessed together. I’ll bring Slog and Smut around.

The rope was tied to team fifteen, and Jon watched as Ella backed them, and the buckboard started up the hill. Jon waved at Ella’s son and daughter at the bottom.

Keep your eyes on the buggy.

Yassa, came the echoes below.

Jon noticed that the steepest area was now flattened some, as the buckboard hadn’t disappeared as it climbed steadily. Mose busied himself separating team five from their harness, as the buggy emerged at the top. It looked funny to Jon. It sloped down to the rear; Mose had a bench, and had built up the boards in back with a part of the tree he cut yesterday. Does that darkie ever sleep? he wondered.

Mose gathered wood from the buggy’s bed and started his bonfire. Ella and Maggie produced a Dutch oven and some fixings.

What’s for breakfast? asked Jon.

None of your business. Wait and see, said Maggie.

We’s goes now an’ find dem cow.

Right, Mose. The two men climbed aboard Jake and Red bareback and started their hunt. I’ll see you back here in a piece, Mose.

Yassar. I’s goes back an’ circles about.

Righto. See you in a beat.

Jonathan headed north through the rotted sot weed. He became aware that the ground was gradually descending. The brush became thick, so he stopped. From his perch atop Jake, the slope seemed to continue.

Lordy, I hope this doesn’t drop this easy all the way to the river. Maggie will bury me in her journal! It must drop off, Jon said to himself.

Jon turned to the right, and started a circle. That danged cow couldn’t have vanished, he thought. There was no food around here for her. Jon thought only jackasses were that stupid.

Damnation, I may as well muddle on back. I’m blamed hungry.

Jon was the first back to the wagons.

No luck, Jonny? asked Maggie.

Not unless Mose has found the bugger.

I was hoping for some milk with our breakfast.

Well, you’re in for a treat. We have some of Momma’s eggs, hot meat, potatoes, and flapjacks.

We’s goes whole hogs, said Ella.

Good. I can eat pork.

Hold on, Jonny, till Mose gets back.

Yeah. Forget about that bloody cud muncher! Jon hollered into space. Let’s eat!

There’s he be. Ella pointed in the direction that Jon had first headed. I’s sees no cows.

Well, I’m sorry, Maggie. It’s my fault we lost her.

It’s our fault, Jonny, Maggie said with a grin.

Mose pulled up to the wagon. Whoas, big fella, he said to Red, and he swung down.

Hell’s fire, he can almost step off that horse, observed Jonathan. Maybe we can buy another cow ahead.

You’re just jaw-jocking, Jonny. There is only wilderness ahead, answered Maggie.

There are communities in them thar hills, my pretty plum.

Like what?

Like Sycamore Shoals, and Fort Patrick Henry.

Silence gripped the two couples, as their hunger became very apparent. So silent, in fact, that Maggie heard Chipper and Buelah at the bottom of the hill.

We need to save some for Chipper and Buelah.

We’s puts food in pots, said Ella.

Good idea. The lid on this Dutch oven should keep it from spilling. Are you finished, Jonny?

For now. He turned to Mose. What’s the plan, Mose?

We’s puts dem food an’ grub ins dem buckboard an’ backs dem down, puts Pasha in forks. I’s walks dem down.

Alright. Let’s get the food buckets and these pots in the buckboard. What are these poles for? asked Jon.

Dems helps dem horses an’ wagon down.

I like it. You’re a crust, Mose. Let’s do a trial without Pasha this first run.

Yassa. Bas I’s be walkin dem down.

Can we put any more in? It looked like about a third of the pile on the ground had been transferred.

Dat be’s ’nuffs, Jon.

"Okay. We’re ready for the trial run. Lash