War 1812 (3 page)

One of the servant girls was sweeping the stone floor the next morning when Jonah and Moses came down. A small fire still burned in the fireplace to take the chill out of the gathering room. The mixed aroma of coffee, bacon, and biscuits filled the room. The sun was rising, and the day promised to be a good one. The door opened as one of the Kentuckians entered. His eyes were swollen as a result of last night’s heavy drinking. He, nevertheless, smiled at Jonah, “It’s gonna be a scorcher, friend.”

The whinny of a horse was heard outside.
He’s seen to the caring of the group’s horses,
Jonah thought. As if reading Jonah’s thoughts, Moses volunteered, “I’d better go see to ours.”

Breakfast was a fast paced affair. The travelers who had taken refuge from the wet and dreary night were ready to be on their way before it got hot.

The leader of the group of Kentuckians was a man named Clay Gesslin. He was a militia captain and was leading his group to join up with others from his area already under General Harrison’s command.

“We stayed behind till the crops were laid in, then we came on,” Clay volunteered over breakfast. “Now we’re going to join Colonel Johnson and the rest of our men.”

“It could be we might travel together,” Jonah said as the men shook hands. “We are headed that way ourselves.”

“If you’ve a mind to and you can keep up, you’re welcome,” Clay responded. “We intend to push hard. We don’t want the fighting to be over and done with before we get there,” he said with a smile.

Thinking of the men’s partying last night; Jonah could tell just how big a rush they were in. After breakfast, Jonah and Moses packed their belongings in bed rolls and saddled up to leave. Thanking the owner of the tavern for his good service, the men paid their bill and rode off together in one group.

The so-called road soon turned into little more than a path through the woods. Due to the previous night’s rain, the path turned into a succession of bog holes. Soon the horses were slipping up to their withers in the bogs.

“Damned if we near couldn’t nah done better with a boat than these horses,” one man complained as he was pitched from his saddle as his horse slipped down. Seeing the horse was having trouble rising up, the man picked up his hat as he walked over to the animal raking a clump of mud off his shoulder as he did so. Reaching the horse, the man cursed loudly, “Damn this here road, damn those Redcoats and damn this horse. He’s done broke his leg.”

Retrieving his saddle and belongings from the horse he handed them to a friend on horseback. Taking a pistol from his belt, the man walked back to his horse. Watching, Jonah could see tears on the fellow’s face as he spoke softly to the animal before he shot it. No sooner had the echo of the shot died away when Clay said, “Move out.”

The group continued on the path, passing fewer and fewer homesteads as they traveled. Frightened homeowners peered out of windows or doorways that were cracked open just enough to see through. The conspicuous barrel of a musket always evident, letting the travelers know the settlers were ready to defend their property if need be. At the first couple of cabins, the men tried to buy a horse but were told there was none to be spared. At the second cabin, a man braver than most opened the door to talk with the group.

Jonah could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Even though he couldn’t see anyone he had the feeling they were covered; probably from the barn or from the loft in the cabin. The man had stated there was a tavern and trading post down at the end of the road a piece. It was at the edge of the wilderness and an animal might be purchased there. The remark he made about at the edge of the wilderness made Jonah laugh. He felt he had been in the wilderness for most of the day. Had their land been much as this area was when his father had decided to settle there? He’d often said he’d hacked out a homestead. His words had a new meaning to Jonah now that he was able to see and old enough to understand his father’s meaning. He had always respected his father but now that respect grew.

The sun was going down when the group rode into a clearing. In the center of the clearing was a tavern and trading post with a covered walkway to a barn and a corral just past the barn. A man stacking firewood paused, and pushing his hat back he watched as the group rode into the clearing and stopped. Jonah and Captain Gesslin introduced themselves.

“Light and sit,” the man said. “Supper is near done. Besides you can’t go much further tonight. The trail gets rough and near impassable at places. You may even consider taking the river from here on.”

Inside, the tavern lamps had already been lit. The place had a high ceiling with smoky beams. From the beams, lamps were suspended on ropes so they could be raised and lowered to be lit or be put out as needed. The windows were fitted with shutters that could be opened or closed from the inside. Each of the shutters had a cross cut into it for firing guns. The walls of the tavern were at least two feet thick and made out of stone. The place was a fortress of sorts; impregnable to anything less than cannon. The roof may burn but nothing else would.

As the men washed away the mud and grime from the road, two women went about setting the tables. Probably mother and daughter, Jonah decided. The meal was a virtual feast. As the men had not stopped to eat since breakfast it was a much welcome sight. The owner of the tavern had addressed the older of the two women as Mary when he told her the men would be staying over. With the help of the younger girl, Mary brought food to the tables. First she brought out two pots of beans with a mixture of chopped cucumbers and onions. Two haunches of roasted venison followed, then brown bread still hot from the oven. The young girl set small tubs of freshly churned butter, along with jars of canned blackberry preserves, as well as mincemeat pie and a creamy cheese made from sour milk. Homemade beer and ale was also in the offering for drink. The men ate heartily and went to bed early, exhausted from the day’s ordeal. Tomorrow was soon enough to decide about continuing on horseback or possibly taking to the river as the proprietor had recommended.

Chapter Three

T
he wind was driving
from the east, and the rain that had disappeared yesterday seemed likely to return today. Jonah doused water on his face and felt the early morning fog in his head clear. By the time a breakfast of fatback and biscuits with cups of strong black coffee had been finished, the sound of crows cawing and squabbling over what little morsel of food their neighbor had found could be heard. Following the tavern owner down to the river, Jonah saw the man’s wife giving an Indian squaw with a couple of small children food. They had gone to the back door to keep from startling any of the tavern’s guests.

“They’re friendly,” the man said by way of explanation. “I give them leftovers, and they give me trinkets of various sorts. We can take them down to the village and sell a few now and again.”

“I wouldn’t be giving them any rum,” Captain Gesslin volunteered.

“Naw, we don’t trade any of that. It’s just the squaws trading with the misses. We don’t get many braves about.”

“Probably off fighting alongside the Redcoats.” This was from one of Gesslin’s men.

As the men made their way to the river’s edge, one of the men placed his moccasin clad foot on the bow of a birch wood canoe, and the canoe turned over. The man seemed to fidget about and then turned to Gesslin and spoke.

“Captain, if it’s all the same to you, I’d as soon keep traveling on my hoss. I can’t swim a lick and this here… boat seems a might frail to me.” The man’s concerns were enough to set the others to joshing him.

“What you so skittish for, ‘fraid you might get dumped into the river? Well, it’d probably do you some good was you to have a bar of soap handy.”

“Hush up, Hicks, I took a bath during the summer, same as you.”

“Shore you did,” Hicks declared. “Only I’ve had one a month since.”

This caused more laughter until Gesslin broke it up. “I’m inclined to agree with Lang. I don’t mind fishing out of a boat, but when it comes to fighting, I’d rather have my horse beneath me.”

This brought a chorus of agreement from the men. Jonah gave a slight nod to Moses and he went to pack up. This was the last known tavern and trading post until they reached Franklinton; so Jonah and Gesslin bought more supplies. Moses had their packs together in a matter of minutes. In one, he packed coffee, a slab of bacon, salt, a small bag of flour and one bag of cornmeal. Even adding the new purchases to their supplies it was still mighty slim provisions for the trip ahead. They would have to live off the land and fish when they could.

Getting his gear together, Jonah laid a couple of woolen shirts and a pair of woolen socks down on his blanket then rolled it up. That way they’d be handy if he got wet or it turned cold. The early September morning already had a chill. Tying his blanket roll on the back of his saddle, Jonah watched as Moses checked the patch boxes and shot pouches. Their rifles would be useless without patches and shot. He then wrapped a couple of extra flints in a small rag and placed them in the patch box. With their powder horns full and each of them having an additional horn tied to their saddles, they were ready. Leading their horses over to where the Kentuckians were standing, loud voices could be heard.

Captain Gesslin was haggling over the price of a horse with the tavern owner. He felt the owner had intended to sell them the canoes or trade them for their horses with the promise they could pick them up or buy them back on the return trip. Trouble was, it was unlikely they would come back this way anytime soon. Therefore, the horses would be the man’s to do with as he pleased. It would be easy to sell the horses and say they were stolen. A deal was finally struck after the tavern owner noticed the Kentuckians had circled about him with a no-nonsense glare in their eyes. The man still got a better than fair price for the horse but grumbled he’d been robbed. The grumbling stopped suddenly under the glare of Gesslin’s men.

The sun was bright and starting to warm up as they headed out following the west bank of the Scioto River. Riding close to the river was difficult in places, so they followed game trails as they were able, always keeping close to the river. At places the trails widened and looked well traveled. Jonah felt these trails were likely used by Indians. The path wound crookedly along the edge of the woods. They were steadily climbing as they went when Captain Gesslin halted his horse suddenly. The rest of the men reacted as one forming a wedge-like formation with the group on either side of the captain looking toward the woods and listening.

“I smell smoke,” Moses whispered to Jonah.

After pausing, the group rode on slowly keeping their guns ready. The climb leveled off on a small rise and faint tendrils of smoke drifted on the breeze as it filtered through the tall dark pines. The captain halted abruptly and got down from his saddle, giving the reins to the man behind him who still sat on his horse. Watching from his horse, Jonah could see Gesslin as he eased through the woods, until he disappeared from sight. The men sat in their saddles for what seemed like an eternity, tense and alert. The drifts of smoke and the deathly silence created an eerie sensation.

The horses seemed uneasy as first one then another would paw the ground then blow. Gesslin finally came back in sight and waved for them to come forward. A clearing of several acres opened up as they rode forward. A small stream ran from the river past a cabin and outbuildings. What used to be a cabin was not much more than smoldering embers at this point. The settlers had been attacked yesterday from the look of things. It appeared the family had been massacred as they went about their daily chores with little or no warning. A man lay next to a well with an arrow sticking from between his shoulders and one in his neck. A youth… a boy of about sixteen, lay next to a lean-to with his head a bloody black pulp.

“They took a tomahawk to him,” one of Gesslin’s men volunteered.

By the cabin door a naked woman lay dead. The dried blood between her legs was evidence she had been raped. Both breasts had been cut off.

“Hope she was dead when they did that,” Moses said as he picked up a bedspread that lay nearby and draped it over the corpse.

A call from the barn startled Jonah. They walked over to where one of the Kentuckians was standing. A teenage girl had been wrapped in a cowhide which was dangling from a rafter by a rope. The girl’s eyes had been punctured, the sticks still in place. Like the other woman, her breasts were gone also. The man, whose name was Hicks, cut the leather lace binding the cowhide together, and they could see the girl had been tied up. She couldn’t use her hands to remove the sticks. She had been raped as well.

“She’s still breathing,” one of the men said in disbelief.

As the rope binding her was cut, she whispered, “Kill me… kill me, please.”

Jonah was shocked when Gesslin took his razorback from its scabbard and deftly sliced the tortured girl’s throat. Jonah wanted to be angry but realized it was a kindness.
Would I have been able to do it,
he wondered.