Mystery Beneath the Baneberry Bush: Based on the Thomas Jefferson Beale Cyphers

By Emma Jean H. Rose

A story of the famed Thomas Jefferson Beale ciphers that has been aired on national TV by the news media, various programs, and can be reviewed on the Internet is given renewed attention. Three sets of numbers are in the code, and until recent years, only paper number 2 had been deciphered. However, a new story emerges in the deciphered papers 1 and 3. It is the journal of Gilbert Bean, a young Scottish minister living in Bedford County, Pennsylvania. Mystery Beneath the Baneberry Bush is the story of this frontier and enterprising Bean family based on the journal. During the American Revolution, Gilbert Bean served in the Rawlings Regiment under Capt. Thomas Beal, founder of Cumberland, Maryland. Gilbert, Beau he was often called, made an effort to destroy all his personal public records, but his records from the National Archives state that he deserted. Did he desert the very cause that he was fighting for? Why was it necessary to code his journal? What is the strange “ark” Bet Bean stole from a British boat? Is there a treasure trove in Bedford County, Pennsylvania, more precious than silver and gold that will shock America?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9781664171671

Book preview

Copyright © 2021 by Emma Jean H. Rose.

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.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Scripture quotations marked KJV are from the Holy Bible, King James Version (Authorized Version) First published in 1611. Quoted from the KJV Classic Reference Bible, Copyright © 1983 by The Zondervan Corporation.

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

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 04/24/2021

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Contents

The Setting

Principal Characters

Introduction

Paper No. 1

Paper No. 3

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Epilogue

Dedicated to the memory of Carl and Cliff Cessna

The Setting

During the early 1700s, Scotch Irish Presbyterians became the vanguard for western movement in Pennsylvania. About fifteen thousand Indians, most of them belonging to the Lenni-Lenape tribe, lived in Pennsylvania at the time of the first white settlements in the area. The Shawnee moved into Pennsylvania during the 1700s and then drifted west to Ohio. The white settlers followed the Indian trails and waterways into the Cumberland Valley, their first great settlement, and the area remained predominately Scotch Irish until after the American Revolution. Indian attacks on these early settlers were not uncommon; however, most of the attacks were from renegades or the more northern tribes. The Indians were considered crushed by the end of the revolution.

A long dispute between Pennsylvania and Maryland over the boundary dividing the colonies resulted in the establishment of the Mason-Dixon Line and the final settlement of the dispute around 1770. Settlers who had hitherto thought they lived in Maryland found themselves living in Pennsylvania. Some of these folks were squatters and had no legal rights to the land. Some were unable to pay the more expensive fees for the land they claimed. Some just simply neglected the requirements necessary to hold the land. And some had grants that were lost or misplaced, and they had no way of proving ownership.

It is to this period, to this environment, and to this struggle for identity, existence, and independence that the Thomas Jefferson Beale Journal belongs.

Principal Characters

Robert Bean - Rob, Pa, first white settler in Bean Cove

Elizabeth Bean Beal - Bet, Ma, daughter of Robert Bean

Gilbert Bean - Beau, son of Bet Bean, husband of Rose, and father of Tom and Aaron

Jeb Beal - husband of Bet

Pat Beal - daughter of Bet and Jeb

Elizabeth - Sister, daughter of Bet and Jeb

Sam - son of Bet and Jeb

Ted - husband of Pat

Pee Wee Truett - husband of Sister

William Ray - Ray, scout and trapper

Conrad Rain - Con, hunter and trapper

Solomon Lowe - Sol, neighbor and father of Tom and Joe

Elisha Iams - Lisha, neighbor and miller

Lum Beal - neighbor and kinsman of Jeb

Isom Booe - Booe, hunter and trapper

Thomas Beal - lawyer and army captain

Jeff Beal - friend and companion of Beau

Ben - son of Eloee and Henry Lee, stepson of Rea

Ben Tewell - neighbor and rock mason

Slaves: Mo, Rea, Bart, Lizzy, Eloee, Tan

Introduction

It was spring, sometime in the early 1980s. I’m not sure of the exact date. The telephone rang.

Mama, come over here, my husband told me. I have a paper I want you to see.

Mama is the name my husband usually calls me by, and this wasn’t an unusual request since I helped with his office work.

What kind of paper? I asked.

Just hop into the car and come over here. I want you to see this.

I went to the office where I was handed a paper on which there was nothing but numbers. In fact, there were two different sets of numbers.

What’s this? I asked.

Figure it out.

What am I supposed to figure out?

Mama, it tells you where a treasure is buried.

Un-huh. Right! What kind of treasure?

Buried treasure! It is supposed to be over in Bedford County, Virginia. This is a code that tells you exactly where it is. Take this home and work on it. Let me know what you come up with.

Exactly where did you get this paper?

My buddy gave it to me. His wife ordered it from a television program and said to give it to you.

Oh. And I’m supposed to come up with an answer. Is this one paper all there is?

That’s it, Mama. Go home and work on it.

A few days later, I was given a pamphlet published by the Beale Cipher Association that told the story behind the numbers. It seems that a locked metal box had been left with a gentleman in Lynchburg, Virginia in the early 1800s with the instructions that the gentleman was to open the box after ten years if the owner had not returned to claim it. The box was put away and forgotten for some forty years. When the gentleman then opened it, it contained a letter telling how a group of people had buried gold, silver, and some jewelry brought back from the West, but the exact location was in code. There were three sets of numbers in the box. Eventually someone had deciphered one set, giving the contents of the trove and the approximate location. No one had been able to decipher the other two, but supposedly these two sets of numbers would give the exact location of the trove and the names of the heirs. How much of this was a hoax was anyone’s guess, but that was my first thought. The Beale Cipher Association also offered index cards and several other help items. The association sponsored a yearly symposium. Tours of the area in Bedford County, Virginia were also available.

The telephone rang. Mama, have you figured anything out yet?

Not yet.

Well, work on it.

A week or two passed. Each day, it was the same question, the same comment. My enthusiasm wasn’t much, but there was something about the story that bugged me. How could anyone haul the amount of silver and gold revealed in the first cipher from the Far West to Virginia over mountain roads impassable in the winter months two hundred plus years ago? Why Bedford County, Virginia? If the information needed for claiming this trove was in a locked box, why was it put in cryptic language? Was the author of the letter a real person? Would this be part of an unpublished Edgar Allan Poe story?

My enthusiasm was building. Not because I expected to find a treasure trove, but because I wanted answers to some questions about a subject that had become a popular issue. I read and reread the pamphlet. As much as I wanted to drop the subject, as much as I wanted to erase it from my mind, I could not let it go. Lord, what is this about? I asked.

I had a theory. I would test it. But only once! If it didn’t work, it was a dead issue. No more numbers. No more story. No more probing. Drop it. It would take a lot of work, and I was a busy person as an office helper, roadrunner, and caregiver to family members, but I would find the time. I had a new electric typewriter for which I was grateful because I was going to need it. The process would be tedious. It was beyond my potential and certainly beyond my wildest dreams, but I gathered my materials, and then I prayed. Lord, grant me wisdom, and if any good thing can come from this, guide me through it, but please help me not to waste time foolishly.

I meticulously put my theory together, being very careful not to make an error. Now instead of a set of numbers, I had a set of letters. I had as many letters as I had numbers, but I had nothing readable. Lord, I asked, Have I done all this work and used all this time for naught? Was I headstrong without listening? Temptation would have had me throw it all in the trash, but I didn’t. Rather, I put it in a drawer. Each time I opened the drawer, I stared at the letters. I wasn’t sure, but something seemed to catch my eye in these jumbled letters—a dark hide cemetery. Would this—could this—paper be talking about a slave cemetery? Was I on the right track after all? Was there actually something here I had not yet figured out?

The telephone rang. Mama, what have you come up with on the Beale papers?

I’m not quite sure. I believe this story has something to do with a slave cemetery.

My buddy is here. Let’s all go over there this weekend.

My comment had triggered a new enthusiasm. On a previous trip prompted by curiosity, he and his friend had met a gentleman who told them about a slave cemetery in the area, a bit of information of which I had been unaware.

Well, okay, I said, but I don’t have anything specific.

The two-hour trip to Bedford on that cold, sunny day in the fall was enjoyable for the four of us. A snake staring my husband in the eye when he was crawling through a barbed-wire fence resulting in a snagged feather jacket and feathers flying through the air was the biggest event of the day. The use of a metal detector resulted in no new information.

Over the following weeks, the interest of others in the Beale ciphers waned, but silently, mine intensified. Seizing every possible opportunity, I traveled thirty-five miles to a university library to do research and translate my jumbled letters from a dead language into modern English. I had only begun to decipher the cryptogram, but I was certain I had the key.

The information I was slowly receiving was exhilarating, and I wanted to share it with others who had worked on it. I called the author of the book There is Gold in the Blue Ridge, hoping to share my newly found discovery. If you will meet us in Bedford, I told her, I will show you how to decipher the code. She responded with We don’t meet people. I can’t say that I blamed her. I probably wouldn’t have either. I called Dr. Carl Hammer, a computer expert retired from Sperry-Univac Corporation. The Beale Cipher Association had hired him to examine the code using computers. This is a very interesting story, he said. You should call Carl Nelson.

Mr. Nelson was head of the Beale Cipher Association and a retired government cryptologist. I called Mr. Nelson. Interesting, he said. I would like for you to send me your work and let me take a look.

Somewhat reluctant to just mail all my hard work, I gathered up my material and had it notarized. Let’s drive it up to him, my husband suggested. That sounded great to me, and so we drove to Arlington, Virginia to deliver my package. Mr. Nelson was preparing to present a television program on the Beale ciphers and welcomed us with keen interest. He showed me the material he had prepared for the presentation. Together we looked over my work, and he suggested I leave it with him to be evaluated. We agreed that he would keep it for not more than a year. It was a year of constant discouragement. I received many letters from him informing me that I could not decipher a code in this manner. I was breaking all the rules. I was not a cryptologist. I should forget this whole matter. He tried to help me understand how my theory was wrong. I understood what he was explaining to me, but I had another deficiency he didn’t know about. I didn’t have an imagination big enough to write the story I was in the process of deciphering.

Eventually I wrote to a program that had televised the Beale story. I received a form card thanking me for watching the show. Having determined that some Egyptian artifacts might be in the trove, I called a museum in New York. They were interested until they learned the source of my information. It seemed that all avenues of outside interest or help were exhausted. Fortunately, my daughter Lynn, a student at Baylor University, believed wholeheartedly in my work and joined me in research. My friend who sent me the paper also believed I had found the key and was my constant prayer partner. Sustained by their faith and prayers and grateful for Lynn’s help in research, I settled into my own world of amazing facts and stories. I would continue to work on the project, but I would keep my findings for my own pleasure and enjoyment. With no outside pressure and criticism, I could periodically drift backward into a time that was more than two hundred years ago and become one in the daily life of a pioneer family—one letter at a time.

Paper No. 1

71, 194, 38, 1701, 89, 76, 11, 83, 1629, 48, 94, 63, 132, 16, 111, 95, 84, 341, 975,14, 40, 64, 27, 81, 139, 213, 63, 90, 1120, 8, 15, 3, 126, 2018, 40, 74, 758, 485,604, 230, 436, 664, 582, 150, 251, 284, 308, 231, 124, 211, 486, 225, 401, 370,11, 101, 305, 139, 189, 17, 33, 88, 208, 193, 145, 1, 94, 73, 416, 918, 263, 28, 500,538, 356, 117, 136, 219, 27, 176, 130, 10, 460, 25, 485, 18, 436, 65, 84, 200, 283,118, 320, 138, 36, 416, 280, 15, 71, 224, 961, 44, 16, 401, 39, 88, 61, 304, 12, 21,24, 283, 134, 92, 63, 246, 486, 682, 7, 219, 184, 360, 780, 18, 64, 463, 474, 131,160, 79, 73, 440, 95, 18, 64, 581, 34, 69, 128, 367, 460, 17, 81, 12, 103, 820, 62,116, 97, 103, 862, 70, 60, 1317, 471, 540, 208, 121, 890, 346, 36, 150, 59, 568,614, 13, 120, 63, 219, 812, 2160, 1780, 99, 35, 18, 21, 136, 872, 15, 28, 170, 88, 4,30, 44, 112, 18, 147, 436, 195, 320, 37, 122, 113, 6, 140, 8, 120, 305, 42, 58, 461,44, 106, 301, 13, 408, 680, 93, 86, 116, 530, 82, 568, 9, 102, 38, 416, 89, 71, 216,728, 965, 818, 2, 38, 121, 195, 14, 326, 148, 234, 18, 55, 131, 234, 361, 824, 5,81, 623, 48, 961, 19, 26, 33, 10, 1101, 365, 92, 88, 181, 275, 346, 201, 206, 86,36, 219, 324, 829, 840, 64, 326, 19, 48, 122, 85, 216, 284, 919, 861, 326, 985,233, 64, 68, 232, 431, 960, 50, 29, 81, 216, 321, 603, 14, 612, 81, 360, 36, 51, 62,194, 78, 60, 200, 314, 676, 112, 4, 28, 18, 61, 136, 247, 819, 921, 1060, 464, 895,10, 6, 66, 119, 38, 41, 49, 602, 423, 962, 302, 294, 875, 78, 14, 23, 111, 109, 62,31, 501, 823, 216, 280, 34, 24, 150, 1000, 162, 286, 19, 21, 17, 340, 19, 242, 31,86, 234, 140, 607, 115, 33, 191, 67, 104, 86, 52, 88, 16, 80, 121, 67, 95, 122, 216,548, 96, 11, 201, 77, 364, 218, 65, 667, 890, 236, 154, 211, 10, 98, 34, 119, 56,216, 119, 71, 218, 1164, 1496, 1817, 51, 39, 210, 36, 3, 19, 540, 232, 22, 141, 617,84, 290, 80, 46, 207, 411, 150, 29, 38, 46, 172, 85, 194, 39, 261, 543, 897, 624, 18,212, 416, 127, 931, 19, 4, 63, 96, 12, 101, 418, 16, 140, 230, 460, 538, 19, 27, 88,612, 1431, 90, 716, 275, 74, 83, 11, 426, 89, 72, 84, 1300, 1706, 814, 221, 132,40, 102, 34, 868, 975, 1101, 84, 16, 79, 23, 16, 81, 122, 324, 403, 912, 227, 936,447, 55, 86, 34, 43, 212, 107, 96, 314, 264, 1065, 323, 428, 601, 203, 124, 95, 216,814, 2906, 654, 820, 2, 301, 112, 176, 213, 71, 87, 96, 202, 35, 10, 2, 41, 17, 84,221, 736, 820, 214, 11, 60, 760.

Paper No. 3

317, 8, 92, 73, 112, 89, 67, 318, 28, 96, 107, 41, 631, 78, 146, 397, 118, 98, 114,246, 348, 116, 74, 88, 12, 65, 32, 14, 81, 19, 76, 121, 216, 85, 33, 66, 15, 108, 68,77, 43, 24, 122, 96, 117, 36, 211, 301, 15, 44, 11, 46, 89, 18, 136, 68, 317, 28, 90,82, 304, 71, 43, 221, 198, 176, 310, 319, 81, 99, 264, 380, 56, 37, 319, 2, 44, 53,28, 44, 75, 98, 102, 37, 85, 107, 117, 64, 88, 136, 48, 154, 99, 175, 89, 315, 326,78, 96, 214, 218, 311, 43, 89, 51, 90, 75, 128, 96, 33, 28, 103, 84, 65, 26, 41, 246,84, 270, 98, 116, 32, 59, 74, 66, 69, 240, 15, 8, 121, 20, 77, 89, 31, 11, 106, 81,191, 224, 328, 18, 75, 52, 82, 117, 201, 39, 23, 217, 27, 21, 84, 35, 54, 109, 128,49, 77, 88, 1, 81, 217, 64, 55, 83, 116, 251, 269, 311, 96, 54, 32, 120, 18, 132, 102,219, 211, 84, 150, 219, 275, 312, 64, 10, 106, 87, 75, 47, 21, 29, 37, 81, 44, 18,126, 115, 132, 160, 181, 203, 76, 81, 299, 314, 337, 351, 96, 11, 28, 97, 318, 238,106, 24, 93, 3, 19, 17, 26, 60, 73, 88, 14, 126, 138, 234, 286, 297, 321, 365, 264,19, 22, 84, 56, 107, 98, 123, 111, 214, 136, 7, 33, 45, 40, 13, 28, 46, 42, 107, 196,227, 344, 198, 203, 247, 116, 19, 8, 212, 230, 31, 6, 328, 65, 48, 52, 59, 41, 122,33, 117, 11, 18, 25, 71, 36, 45, 83, 76, 89, 92, 31, 65, 70, 83, 96, 27, 33, 44, 50, 61,24, 112, 136, 149, 176, 180, 194, 143, 171, 205, 296, 87, 12, 44, 51, 89, 98, 34, 41,208, 173, 66, 9, 35, 16, 95, 8, 113, 175, 90, 56, 203, 19, 177, 183, 206, 157, 200,218, 260, 291, 305, 618, 951, 320, 18, 124, 78, 65, 19, 32, 124, 48, 53, 57, 84, 96,207, 244, 66, 82, 119, 71, 11, 86, 77, 213, 54, 82, 316, 245, 303, 86, 97, 106, 212,18, 37, 15, 81, 89, 16, 7, 81, 39, 96, 14, 43, 216, 118, 29, 55, 109, 136, 172, 213,64, 8, 227, 304, 611, 221, 364, 819, 375, 128, 296, 1, 18, 53, 76, 10, 15, 23, 19, 71,84, 120, 134, 66, 73, 89, 96, 230, 48, 77, 26, 101, 127, 936, 218, 439, 178, 171, 61,226, 313, 215, 102, 18, 167, 262, 114, 218, 66, 59, 48, 27, 19, 13, 82, 48, 162, 119,34, 127, 139, 34, 128, 129, 74, 63, 120, 11, 54, 61, 73, 92, 180, 66, 75, 101, 124,265, 89, 96, 126, 274, 896, 917, 434, 461, 235, 890, 312, 413, 328, 381, 96, 105,217, 66, 118, 22, 77, 64, 42, 12, 7, 55, 24, 83, 67, 97, 109, 121, 135, 181, 203, 219,228, 256, 21, 34, 77, 319, 374, 382, 675, 684, 717, 864, 203, 4, 18, 92, 16, 63, 82,22, 46, 55, 69, 74, 112, 134, 186, 175, 119, 213, 416, 312, 343, 264, 119, 186, 218,343, 417, 845, 951, 124, 209, 49, 617, 856, 924, 936, 72, 19, 28, 11, 35, 42, 40, 66,85, 94, 112, 65, 82, 115, 119, 236, 244, 186, 172, 112, 85, 6, 56, 38, 44, 85, 72,32, 47, 73, 96, 124, 217, 314, 319, 221, 644, 817, 821, 934, 922, 416, 975, 10, 22,18, 46, 137, 181, 101, 39, 86, 103, 116, 138, 164, 212, 218, 296, 815, 380, 412,460, 495, 675, 820, 952.

1

It was the early l700s. Young Robert Bean was a passenger on a boat headed for America, and tales of this new land were circulating among the passengers on the ship.

I hear tell that ye must give ye family history when ye be getting to New York, an Irish passenger told him.

I be thinking they charge ye a fee when ye be going through the line, another said.

Robert, or Rob as they called him, didn’t have much of a hankering to go through lines and give out family history. He didn’t have much specie, and he wasn’t interested in paying a fee either, so when they were in sight of land, he jumped ship and swam ashore. A Scot by birth, he left England and soon joined a group of Scots who were headed west.

The group settled along the Susquehanna River, and Rob learned how to clear land and plant and to trap and hunt. This was a life he loved and a country he wanted to stay in, and as soon as he could sell enough pelts to save specie, he planned to go back for his wife and little girl.

Rob rowed up the Ono to do some hunting and happened upon a young Indian who appeared to be in severe pain.

What be ye trouble? Rob asked him.

The frightened Indian, lying in the bushes and trembling, stared at Rob.

I suppose ye not be hearing, Rob said.

Rob made a move to give the young Indian a hand, but the Indian pulled a knife from his side. He scowled at Rob and held the knife offensively toward him. Rob stood tall and straight, looked the Indian straight in the eye and chuckled.

I be thinking ye not be much in shape to fight today, Rob said, and with one quick move, he kicked the knife from the Indian’s hand.

Rob picked up the knife and handed it back to the Indian.

Now, what be ye trouble? Rob asked.

The bewildered Indian stared at Rob.

Ye not be understanding me words, do ye? Rob commented, offering him some water to drink.

The Indian, a bit more trusting, drank the water and pointed to his leg. Rob realized that it must be broken.

I’ll try to fix ye leg, but it’ll hurt, Rob said.

The Indian didn’t understand and stared wistfully at Rob while Rob splinted and fixed the leg as best as he could.

Want something to eat? Rob asked, offering him some jerky.

The Indian shook his head. He looked sick, and Rob thought it best to stay the night with him. He built a campfire, but the Indian quickly put it out, pointing to the woods beyond and shaking his head no, making movements to indicate that they might be scalped. Rob understood and managed to make the Indian aware that he did. With a stick, the Indian drew some teepees in the dirt and pointed west.

Ye live west? Rob asked.

The Indian pointed to Rob, and then he pointed to himself and pointed west.

Ye be wanting me to go west with ye?

The two were communicating.

Robert Bean was a daring young man. He was stocky and had thick, reddish-brown, slightly curly hair that he cropped short. He had deep blue eyes that twinkled and squinted when he laughed. He never really laughed out loud but just chuckled when he was amused. He was quick-witted, a pleasant fellow with a real sense of humor and liked everyone he met. But he had a serious side too. He had come to America to stake out a land grant that he knew to be farther west.

Rob fixed some crutches for the Indian and for days followed him west over the trails, finally arriving at an Indian camp in a mountain cove.

Is this your people? Rob asked the Indian.

Ye be sit, the Indian told him, motioning to a blanket outside a teepee.

Rob chuckled at the Indian’s strange use of the words he was learning, but he took his seat on the blanket and waited. The young Indian returned with an old man Rob thought to be the leader. He pointed to Rob, and with Rob now understanding much of what the Indian was saying, he explained to the old Indian how Rob had helped him.

Rob was anxious to learn the ways of the Indians. Contrary to what he had heard, the Indians had a sense of humor, and it wasn’t long until Rob had them laughing. He told them stories about sailing and about things on the other side of the wide waters. The Indians liked Rob and wanted him to stay with their tribe.

Rob had taken a special liking to the cove and decided to stay. He sat on top of a hill near the campground, observing the topography of the land. A promontory, not as high as the surrounding mountains, jutted into the cove, forming a median between two streams that ran along each side of the ridge. Sometime in the ancient past, nature had wrought its fury, fanning out a rock ledge along the east side of the promontory. A very narrow valley lay between the promontory and the East Mountain. Wild hogs had made a path up this narrow valley to the big bog at the toe of the ridge. A ledge on the east side of the hill where Rob was sitting set the boundary of the bog. A vent in the ledge indicated to Rob that a cave must be there. Farther down the cove on the west side of the promontory, three streams emptied into a single hole, creating a loud noise like that of a waterfall. Rob was fascinated by this natural wonder. On the promontory high above the hole, a cavern vented toward the west.

This cove be looking mighty like the tract of land I be looking for, Rob said to himself, and he wondered how anyone could claim land that other folks lived on. He dared not mention such a hideous act to this tribe who had so graciously taken him in. He figured they wouldn’t understand anyway.

Several months had passed when a large band of renegades raided the camp, slaughtered most of the women and children and killed a large number of the men. Distraught over their loss, the survivors decided to move farther west, but Rob loved this cove and vowed to stay, especially since he had a strange attachment to it.

The old Indian chief was killed in the raid, and the young Indian whom Rob had helped was now the chief. When they were prepared to leave, the young Indian approached Rob.

Teepee not down. Do ye not be wish go? he asked.

I not be wish go, Rob answered, extending his hand to the young Indian. I be thinking to stay.

They shook hands, and the young Indian handed Rob an arrow.

Happy hunting be ye, the Indian told Rob as he started westward with the rest of his family. And much be thank for help chase bad ones.

Rob chuckled. I be thinking that Indian might learn to talk someday, he thought to himself.

Rob built a cabin, and in the spring, he planted corn. He hunted and fished and dried the meat. His only visitors were Indians and the scout who had led him to the Susquehanna.

It was several years before Rob was able to return to the Outer Hebrides. His daughter, Elizabeth, or Bet as they called her, was grown with a son, Gilbert, about the age Elizabeth was when Rob had sailed to America. Bet barely remembered her Pa, but he soon became her idol all over again.

Things have changed, Robert, Rob’s wife told him. I not be going to that savage land with ye. Bet has a son, your grandson, that be needing good schooling, and he be needing his mother. Bet shan’t go either. She shan’t be taking little Gilbert away. Ye best stay here.

Rob knew there was no place in the Outer Hebrides for him now. He had found a place of peace and solace and determined to return to America and to the cove. He sailed back alone. Bet vowed to follow.

2

William Ray, or Ray as he was called, was a little fellow when he first came to Bean Cove with his dad. His mother had died when he was a baby, and his dad raised him. His dad was a hunter and a scout, so Ray had grown up in the woods and on the trails. It was Ray’s dad who had led Robert Bean’s group west to the Susquehanna, and Rob and his dad had become best of friends.

Ray had family that settled on the Juniata River a few miles north of Bean Cove. They started a trading post, and the settlement became known as Raystown. However, Ray preferred to stay on the trail and became a skilled hunter and scout like his dad.

A Scot by birth, Ray had learned to read and write from his dad. He wore his long, brown hair in a single braid behind him and only trimmed his beard. In the winter, he wore a fur hat and clothes made from animal skins. He wore a piper’s plaid on his shoulder and a horn his dad had made dangled at his side. He kept a hunting knife in his boot and always kept his rifle handy. In the summer, he took great pride in wearing a Scottish tam. Ray, a good-natured fellow, felt at home with the Beans and was welcomed as family, often staying at the cove for a few days after his dad had died.

Ray and Beau Bean were checking traps for Rob. Beau ambled up the end of the promontory to the rock ledge. Rob had built a shelter that was used for tanning and storing hides. Suddenly Beau’s eyes widened, and he stood very still. There was a bear in the shelter. Now what was a sailor to do when staring a bear straight in the eye? He was certain that his being a reverend wouldn’t help. Bears don’t care about titles. The bear stood there with its foot on a pelt and looked straight at Beau. Ray! He would get that bear. Holding his gun high above his head, Beau ran quickly down the end of the ridge, yelling for Ray somewhere on the toe.

Ray! Beau’s voice rang with excitement.

Aye! came the reply.

There’s a bear on the rock ledge.

How big is he?

Big!

Whoopee! Let’s get him.

Leaving Beau on the toe, Ray rushed to the top of the ridge, but the bear was gone.

He’s gone, yelled Ray. Do you see him, Beau?

He’s coming down the side.

Head him off.

Head him off? How do you head off a bear? mumbled Beau.

Ray was in a fit to get that bear. He knew it would probably run into the cave at the bog if he didn’t get there first. He rushed back down to the toe and saw a bear standing above the cave entrance.

He’s not big! exclaimed Ray, aiming his gun.

Looks big to me, but that isn’t the same bear, answered Beau.

No! Ray lowered his gun. There’s one bigger?

Un-huh!

Which way was he headed coming down the ridge?

Beau’s friend Ted was standing on top of a hill. He had heard the yelling and didn’t know which way to go.

Did you see a bear come off the ridge, Ted? Beau yelled.

Aye! He’s headed toward the cabin.

Toward the cabin? Ray squawked.

Ray quickly turned and ran toward the cabin. Beau was on his heels. Ray wanted to get that bear before Rob did, not because he wanted the