An Unbroken Lineage. the Sentinelese Bloodline is 60,000 Years Long

Chapter 5 – Zeke’s Daughter Mollie and Jacob Bartow

Chapter 5 Zeke’s Daughter Mollie and Jacob Bartow

This couple would have a daughter named Mollie who will be the matriarch of a huge clan and plays prominently in the Cracker Legacy of Lee County, Fl.

East of Ft. Myers, 30 miles or so, a little cattle village later named Ortona was born when Mollie Witt and Jacob Bartow cleared land for their ranch in 1853 and began living on their homestead. Jacob Bartow, Coleman and Matt’s friend Henry met with his Ma near Arcadia started his family and homestead there. He has a son named Jehu who likes to venture too far from home way out in the swamps, looking for adventure.

Not a large or muscular lad, in fact, he was scrawny, but one look at this boy in the woods tells you he is ready for what might come his way. Stealthily silent and still as a rock in a burlap bag shirt and well-worn trousers belted with a rope he patiently waits sitting on the ground with his back against a pine tree. Young Jehu Bartow is about 5 feet tall with a dark complexion and dark hair, sharp eyes and an impish grin. He looks natural to the woods as the tree he sat against, nose to the breeze and undoubtedly hearing all. 

He worked hard last night cleaning around the farmyard and tending his families critters so he could take a morning stand deep in Ortona’s woodlands. He knew being in his hiding place before daybreak would blend him with the woods and make his success possible. His strategy seemed effective as Mockingbirds, Cardinals, and Blue Jays were flying around paying him no mind. His pine tree in the palmettos was all the cover he needed.

Over the rhythmic dew dropping on the ground from the trees Jehu strains to hear the stirrings of some dinner. He recognizes the mumble of a distant early riser. He smells the distinct smell of muddy hogs so they must close. Filling the sky, big flocks of birds leaving last night’s roost like Curlew, Iron Head, and Hooper Crane fly by overhead. He can hear Mosquito swarms thick as a horse blanket humming a quarter mile away as the heavy fog settled to the ground. An alert a fox squirrel barks “Bar, bar, bar” mixed with squeals from the hog clan nearby added to the steady plop, plop of the dewdrops tapping ground off the trees to dry in the morning sun.

Jehu chose this spot because there is so much sign of hog. While rabbit hunting a while back, Jehu and his father hunted a middle of dry season cypress head and discovered a great deal of hog-plowing and scat.  When Jacob and Jehu came through the bull rush to the open lowland, it had a heavy green carpet of swamp clover.
Jehu said, “Pa, this place smells like hogs”

Jacob patted his son on the back and said ” I saw a little dirt kick up on the edge of the tree line yonder, see the dust over there where that hole is, they just ran through there when they heard us coming.” Jacob showed Jehu, bending down with one arm on his son’s shoulder as they both looked down Jacobs other arm, pointing into the trees.
“Now don’t you come out here without me, it is too thick and some big hogs are in the bunch that did all this digging” Jacob said to Jehu as he hugged him a little and stood back up.

Jehu looked at his dad and said “All right Dad.”

Jehu looked around and was astonished. The clearing looked as if it was a battleground cannon balled a hundred thousand times. If it was summer, this land would 2-4 feet under water. That is why the hogs preferred the moist ground full of crawdads for the eating. The hogs found the crawdad holes and dug or bulldozed with their snout and hooves when needed to catch the next crawdad. With those long piney-rooter snouts they could smell a grub or crawdad from a good distance. 
Jehu snuck back on his own this morning contrary to what his dad had told him that day, this morning Jehu sat against his tree on the palmetto hammock in this big dry cypress head all by himself.

A sudden movement from the side alerts Jehu to a huge boar hog. The boar is so big and closes, maybe 50 steps and Jehu is afraid to breath. The muddy-faced boar stares coal black into Jehu’s eyes and it begins to do what it came to do. He is starting to root for some variety of grub or crawdad. A huge boar can “Plow” holes a foot deep with his snout and hooves and a half-acre every hour. Luckily, for Jehu this hog did not care for him at all. Jehu did not dare twitch; a big boar can kill ten dogs and maybe a hunter. Jehu thought it better to let boar pursue his breakfast than instigate a dash to the big tree to climb in.

Forgetting to breathe for a moment, Jehu slowly exhales to ease his burning lungs. The old 36-caliber musket or “Kentucky Rifle” is best suited for squirrel or rabbit but could kill any animal when properly aimed and shot. Jehu did not have a great deal of confidence in the musket for a bear or hog as big as a bear, no matter how proper he could shoot. The boar with long, shimmering black hair and bulging muscle is impressive. With a long nose and sword-sharp tusk, he looked like he could eat Jehu if he wanted. He is the biggest Piney Rooter he ever saw and what a tusky boar.

Jehu thought to himself, ”That boar would smell really bad in the pan, and besides I am glad he didn’t eat me, I am not shooting that old boy”. Jehu sat there smiling thinking about the boar. He thought “Dad would be mad if he seen me now sitting next to this big hog out here”

Wild pigs (especially boar) are as dangerous as any animal Jehu could hunt. Many animals he lived around could eat a person like bear, panther, and alligator or wild old bulls out in the thick woods stomping you into a mud hole and leaving you to the buzzards. Jehu’s dad had told him a few stories about evil bulls in the thick.

Animals hunt their dinner, sometimes in teams, sometimes alone, some in the day but most at night. He supposed the big boar ate what and when he wanted to, he was a champion hog. Jehu had heard tales of a whole family ate by alligators at Indian Hill. Old Mr. Weeks was ate by his hogs on his farm. Snakes are everywhere and where you least expect, one bite could kill. Danger lurked any place a person walked. Granny Gitoe said if you do not wear shoes, you would always be watching to see the snake before you step on him. Keeping all this in mind Jehu thinks it best to sit quiet and not bother the boar.  He thought, “Maybe he will go away in a bit and I can go walk about looking for pigs, I just have to wait for the boar to move on”.

Jehu did not wait long to change his mind. He heard the pigs coming and when he saw the variety of hogs, he knew he had hit it right this morning. More swine begin congregating to his area and several are 50-pound pigs. This could be a great day. A 50 lb pig is the perfect pig. Bringing home two pigs would be cause for celebration. He would not hunt all day today, rabbits were easier to carry or clean but you had to walk more than a few miles to gather dinner sometimes. Those pigs would be small enough to drag a couple of miles easy and he should be home soon. He had to shoot him a few since they were so many available.

Jehu started thinking about all the eating he was going to do tonight. What would his Momma cook? Mama, Mary, and Mollie would have roast, bacon, pickled feet and enough to trade Mr. Johnson for some store goods. The lard can be cooked and then used to store venison in the larder barrel in the barn. Small pigs lard was sweet, not rank like an old boars and the venison would taste better. They would be eating good off of this morning’s hunt! 

Granny Gitoe could come to dinner and stay until breakfast. Jehu loves the areas midwife and storyteller. Jehu had to get Granny when his sister Mary was born since Dad was herding cattle down the river to Punta Rassa. Jehu wanted to ride the range with his dad, but he stayed with his ma and sisters and helped run the farm. 

Just a little more compelled to shoot two pigs with one shot, as he was to sit quiet; Jehu pulls back the hammer with a loud “CLICK”. This click made all the pigs grumble and stirred up. Jehu needs two pigs to stand close enough to line a shot through ones neck behind the head. High enough to hit the first pig in the top half of his first neck bone and hit the second in the face or heart or backbone. The pigs are moving around but seem intent on plowing for grubs. With a hissing snap and “KABLAM” his shot connects to the first pigs neck with a “THUMP” and as the second pig falls it worked just like Dad had said. Since the pigs were within 25 yards the power gave plenty enough steam to the too small rifle which was plenty of gun this day.

Jacob told him “I shoot through ones heart and sometimes hit the one next to him too with this .54 rifle. Everything has a way of working out.

Luckily the 50 pound pigs were small enough for the .36 caliber to penetrate both pigs, it probably would not have been nearly as effective on the giant boar that ran off with the rest of the pigs.

The remaining pigs scattered screaming, crashing through the brush away from Jehu as the smoke cleared. Jehu felt emboldened as he left his stand with a sharp knife and a deliberate attitude. Taking life is a solemn time. As he walks to the pigs to bleed them he can still hear the pack of hogs fussing among themselves nearby. He took a knee next to pig #2 and stuck his knife in the side of his neck behind the ear and jaw and found the juggler, 10 seconds and a few kicks and the pig is silent. Pig #1 is dead but to be certain he sticks his knife in its juggler to let the blood flow. Jehu is excited, he thought to himself with a smile “Mama will be proud”. Jehu’s excitement caused him to forget to reload his rifle and he had better calm down long enough to remember that.

Back at home, Jehu’s mother Mollie is doing the days washing. The river made life so easy; she could garden and water her fruit trees like Guava and Mulberry, Mollie even has citrus. She was so afraid of the big alligator population she instructed her brood, “Sometimes big gators can stalk you from the river but if you are careful to keep an eye open to them hiding underwater at the shore they can not sneak up on you. If you did not see them and walk too close you could disappear and never be heard from again. That ole gator will jump out to strike like lightning, drag you to the bottom of the river and drown you”.

Mollie had an instinctual need to look under foot and everywhere else danger could hide, especially the Caloosahatchee. It was an instinct rooted in the fear of making that fatal step. She passed this instinct on to her kids and they never got bit or ate, none yet. She kept them scared of anything they needed to be. If a person was to step on a moccasin, rattlesnake or alligator they were apt to die so be scared or be dead. She told them about the rattlesnakes in the palmetto and the moccasin in the water or mud. She told them about all the people that died from these perils that she knew and anything else that would make an impression.

Jehu’s family the “Bartows” are one of the pioneering families in Florida and for that his father Jacob is proud, but some of them were Indian fighters which did not set well with Jehu’s Grandpa Zeke. Jacob was born in Atlanta in 1821; Martha was born in 1827 to Zeke and Martha Witt. Jacobs’s dad Peter came to Lake Alfred in 1830 after serving a hitch at the fort there where the army forced the big Seminole city to disband and run south or be foot marched to Oklahoma at gunpoint.

She and her husband Jacob eventually homesteaded these 160 acres and had squatted darn near twenty years before then. It was a great home for a man with a wife and three kids to thrive. Jacob could be home sometimes, when he was not on the trail. Occasionally he could be gone a few months when they drive from Kissimmee and Okeechobee, to Estero’s Bahaia or Punta Rassa. In the early years of their marriage Mollie collected cattle alongside Jacob and sold them to her father Zeke or the Roberts clan.

After a few years they both had a hankering to raise a family so they squatted some land in Indian country near what was to become Ortona. At first, it was a place for her and Jacob to get away to, but later as the family needs grew it grew into a home.

The sun is pretty high in the clear sky and the chores are moving along without complexities. Mollie’s daughters Mary and Mollie are helping in the garden while they wait for dry cloths to fold and put away. Mollie’s son Jehu is out rabbit hunting and due home by dinner. Jehu is more of a man by the minute, which means thinking to do what needs to be done, without Mama’s chiding. The girls are 6, 10 and Jehu is 12 years-old.

Mary asked her mother from across the farmyard “Ma, do we have to dress the collards today?”
Mollie answered back “I think you should wait until we water tomorrow, it is too dry”    Mary smiled and shook her head in agreement thinking to herself “Good, I don’t want to smell that manure today nor do I look forward to it tomorrow”. Mary, named after her grandmother was a good daughter and sister.

Mary was a dark version of her mother, you could see Indian traits with her dark skin, her mother and sister had a lighter shade of skin but the same traits. Mollie an impish 6 year old squealed ” Momma, there is a big grasshopper eating the collards, come look!” 

Mary went over to her baby sister and cried “Yew, its big and yellow, Momma it’s a nasty looking bug”
The three womenfolk stared down at the bright orange grasshopper, it was 3 inches long and had left a trail of destruction on the collards newest leaves. Mollie did the motherly duty and kicked it off the leafs then stomped it in the dirt assuring it had ruined its last leaf.

The girls both groaned “Yewee” while a couple of miles away Jehu started heading home.

Jehu waits for the hogs to bleed out and reloads the .36 cal musket. To fire his rifle again he had several steps to take to prepare the rifle to fire. First he had to check the mark to show the unloaded position on his ramrod down the barrel and see his scratch he marked at the exposed exit point. Then he had to load the right amount powder for his shot, he made that load at home and wrapped it in paper so he did not load from his powder flask because it could blow up with a spark . He would give the side of the barrel a sharp tap with the hand to set the powder. He had musket balls in greased cloth patches so they would slide down without a spark when he used his ramrod. In short, 8 to 10 inch steps, using a smooth motion he set them home. Then he had to make sure the ball was seated on top of the powder to ensure he was ready. This took about a minute usually, but today it went pretty quick because he feared the hogs might rush him.

To the east, he can hear the family of hogs grumbling and squealing about fifty yards into the Bull Rush Grass. That big boar and the others are squealing and snorting. It was a great shot and now a good time to get home. He takes a quick look into the trail through the Bull Rush and spots that big boar. He looks right into Jehu’s eyes from a mere 20 steps away. He has black mud all over his face with his eyes and tusk beaming through. Young Jehu mischievously smiles, causing a twinkle in his youthful brown eyes. This boy is dark and tanned with both his White man and his Indian characteristics prominent, just like everything else in the state becoming unique to Florida, a blend of White man and Indian.

Jehu grabs a rope from around his pants to tie a pig to each end, and drags the pigs with the rope around his waist. This leaves his hands free for his gun. He leans forward and starts to drag. The rest of the hogs stay behind as Jehu leaves the woods while their squeals fade from earshot.

Across the Roberts pasture Jehu goes home dragging his prizes of a day‘s hunt. The Roberts are cousins and the big cattle family here. Jehu’s father worked for this family and ranch. His father Jacob had known the Roberts up in Polk County when he was young and had worked for them a long time. Someday Jehu will become a prosperous cattleman and builds a big herd near Lee County.

As Jehu returns home his slender mother wearing a faded blue dress and grey streaked black hair in a bun is hanging laundry in the farmyard; his sisters dressed like their mother were in the garden weeding. Over in the corner of the yard stands a young bull tied to an oak tree. This bull lives on goats milk, grain fed, and he will feed them like royalty. Once about every year and a half they slaughter their yard bull and start over with a new calf. Although beef is plentiful, it is easy to barter with fresh meat when it is was farm raised, hand fed stock. Jehu’s father Jacob remembered early days when there were more maverick cattle than people hereabouts. Folks back then preferred venison to scrub cattle, wild hog being the mainstay. Young Jehu is excited to clean his hogs. He dragged them to the barn, which is next to the well-expanded shotgun shack they live in.

At the entrance of the barn is a post with a block and tackle and a wooden spreader hung to clean game from the wild or the farmyard fare. Jacob stores his tools, supplies, goods for his yard animals and horse in the barn. About fifty steps into the trees at the edge of the yard is a smokehouse the size of modern day refrigerator for their smoked meats and fish. Living on the Caloosahatchee River supplied plenty of mullet, gator, turtle, deer and hog to smoke. The “Sea Cow” is a daylong job when Jacob and Jehu decide to harvest one from the abundance of the river. Sea Cow meat is composed of fat and meat swirled in layers like a giant Danish roll and separating the two is tedious butchering, but vital if you want decent steaks.

His mother waves him over yelling “What you got there boy?” 

Jehu’s reply was a happy “We have 2 pigs just big enough to be worth killing”.

Jehu’s mother Martha smiled and patted down her dress and thought “I don’t like him hog hunting by himself, those tusky varmints will cut him up and eat him,” She says, “Jehu , you got a lot of work there son. Where did you find those pigs?
Jehu said “Back by Robert’s pasture”

“Don’t want you in the swamps tracking hog and cow son, they are too dangerous for you all alone,” Mollie told her son, and she continued, “You better get a drink of water here” as she pointed to the pump “You have been working mighty hard this morning boy”.

While he worked the pitcher pump Dad got from Tampa Jehu was all smiles and no stories. His mother persisted so Jehu told how he was walking in the woods looking for rabbits and saw those pigs. 

He smiled at his Ma and said “This big bunch of hogs come running out of the woods and I shot one and killed two, and didn’t shoot-up any meat either”

He had a look of being up to something but his Ma could not imagine what, she just knew he was up to something. She nodded her head and patted him on the back as she went to the garden. Back at the garden Mollie and the girls talked about the hogs and if Jehu was behaving and what Mr. Johnson would trade for a small pig. Little Mary wished for some cotton cloth for a dress for her that was printed with Daisy and Pansies, Mary wanted some soft cloth she found in light blue which would be fine. Everybody will get a little something and it would be exciting for them. 
 
He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and went back to work. Jehu drags the pigs to the spreader bar and winched on up and tied it off. He cut the first pigs back feet near the Achilles and strung him up adjusting the rope to the correct height and proceeds to skin him. The pigs are small and his freshly stone sharpened knife made for an easy butchering. After skinning, Jehu opens up the pig and cautiously removes his guts, careful not to break the bladder or anything else placing the guts in his twenty-gallon tub to dump away from the barn. After cleaning both pigs, Jehu uses a bucket of water to wash the meat off real good so his Mother may approve and enable her to clean it again when cooking so it would not be gritty or hairy.

It was well past noon when Jehu was done. He carries the pigs into the house in halves and mother is going to clean and quarter the pigs and go to town with one pig in quarters to sell in Ft. Myers to the little towns butcher near the fort. The Union Army had a company there of all black soldiers and fresh meat was very popular. Jehu built a hot fire for the smoke house and put two shoulders and a ham on the wire shelf. The smoker was taller than Jehu and about 3’x3′ square with the fire in the bottom the ham will slow cook and smoke as the fire burns down in the smoker.  When he gets back it will be seasoned.

He then takes a ham and back strap to Granny Gitoe to trade for a kid (goat). Granny told him she had too many goats and he knows she wants some pork. As he grabs a ham and a back strap off the kitchen table where his mother is wrapping up her butcher work he says “I want to go to Granny’s and trade a ham for one of her new goats, that would come in handy next month”
Martha smiles as Jehu leaves and waves him goodbye, already looking back to her work. He walks about two miles in a hour through open pasture west to Granny Gitoe. Jehu arrives at Granny’s home and enters through the west side of her 20-acre grove and farm. Granny had the river in the back and a spring where her cottage is. The grove consists of ten-year orange grafted on wild lemon. A friend in Ft. Myers gave her cuttings from the groves and some of the trees she has in her grove. Desoto’s men spit orange seeds that 300 years later a evolved to a sour citrus tree that grew wild and independent of man’s cultivation known as” Florida’s wild lemon”.

As he enters Granny’s farmyard gate Jehu makes a stop at the garden where he tries a bean off the pole and a guava from a tree in the garden providing shade and then had a big collard leaf, which was all very good as he could forgive the collards bitterness knowing the young leaves would be mild. He stepped away from the rows of the garden on the path to the house front door and stopped at the mulberry tree for two red ones and a few purples.

He knocks on the door and Granny yells, “Come in Jehu”.

Jehu says “Granny I have a ham to trade for a kid and some back strap to roast for you”

Granny smiled and said, “By the looks of that ham I would say this is a small pig, lets throw the back strap in and stew it with the collards”.

Jehu said,” Yes ma’am, I shot both in the neck and head with one shot, they died fast and didn’t suffer a bit, are you going to fry the back strap chunks in the pan?”.

Granny said, “Yes, do you want a piece”

Jehu smiled shaking his head yes and said “Thank-you “.

Granny told Jehu the kids from the new round of goat births were just old enough to leave the farm and accepted his offer with a “Let’s get this cooking” 

He talks while Granny starts staking her ham out saving the rest for soup. Jehu said “I seen those pigs standing there and shot em quick, I was so good I surprised myself”

Granny laughed and chided “You ought to be humble; knowing you killed both with one shot tells a person that you shot good”

Granny loved Jehu; he was such a good boy and was growing fast. She had “Irish Potatoes” in the yard and collards to cook with this ham. When Granny takes those collards and cooks a meaty hambone and some potatoes, Wow that is good stuff. She will brown the steaks and drop them in and it will complete the meal.

Jehu said, “Granny, your collards smell so good in the garden I tried a piece, It wasn’t bad bitter at all”
Granny grinning a big toothless smile says, “I seen you out there boy, you took a big ole piece, I seen that”
Jehu asked, “Would you like me to go dig some of your potatoes and pick a mess of greens?”

Granny said, “Well my young man Jehu, that would be mighty fine and if you was to wash them while you are out there it would be good.  You keep an eye peeled for my ground rattlers as they are apt to be hiding in the squash and don’t move my vines too much, it isn’t good for them” 

Silently smiling Jehu headed to the garden because Granny G was fixing to cook some collards and ham, ham from a 50 lb pig. While smiling he thought to himself, “Maybe she will roast a goat when we tire of hog this week” Jehu went to the squash and there was a ground rattler under a big squash leaf.

Jehu wondered “Was he getting shade from the sun or hiding from the hawks, maybe there was little hopping mice for him to ambush in the garden?”. Jehu kept an eye on the snake and shared the garden with him respecting his sometimes lethal venom.
Granny’s long, white haired ponytail is black and gray today due to heating her washing water over a lighter knot fire but her eyes and beauty smiled at Jehu through the soot. Who would have thought this slender, five foot tall Indian woman could be so strong. Granny keeps 20 acres of grove and helps the area with its mid-wife needs. Sometimes Granny smokes a corncob pipe claiming it was “Rabbit Tobacco” but right now, she is intent on the Ham Stew she would cook with the ham steaks she does not eat right away with Jehu, while they wait for the stew. It will be seasoned with the collards being cooked together with them. She thought, “Those leftovers with some fresh chunked potatoes would be the best”. She reached in her cool box ( no ice, just out of the sunshine through the window and safe from bugs)and took out the mornings goat milk. She helped the areas new parents feed their babies “Goats milk” including Jacob when he was old enough. Luckily she always had an extra nanny goat for them to get their milk. Granny watched Jehu and his sisters play and grow all their years.

Granny was about 70 years old and very wise. Wise with the wisdom you get from suffering the good life. Granny suffered pioneering, as natural as it was. Granny resisted marriage and had tolerated few men once leaving home. Men stunk worse than the cattle and were not real fun to be around if they owned you so, she stayed single. Granny liked the life she had, quite a few babies called her Granny and she was pleased. Grannies mother was Cherokee, her father was Portuguese missionary. When they died Granny was raised by her Grandmother Whidden near Arcadia.

She worked for the Roberts off and on for 50 years. She used to work in the house for her grandma and eventually worked as a cook on the drives to Kissimmee or Tampa. She had a place of her own in Ortona and stopped caring for the “Chuck Wagon” a long time ago. Now she is free to raise her goats and citrus, fruit and oaks in the pasture and along her cabins road. Of course, you can still find some wild cattle about but Granny has steered clear of mavericks this long she probably will never have any.

Jehu inquires about the Indians she has in her family and she tells him to care for his family, neighbors and respect the animals and he would be a good Indian too! Jehu is a dark looking breed and makes any Indian Grandma proud. Some of the kids made Granny lonesome for motherhood although she mothered anyone she saw needing it all of her life. Jehu was at her door a few times a week and he was the closest she had.

By 1875 cattle was the established state business. Old cowboy clans like the Roberts and Whiddens, King and Smiths were very established operations and each ran their particular range in south Florida by then. With the railroads expanding and phosphorous mining and tourism on the rise the state economic composition was bound for change. Over 125 years later, none has outlasted the cattle industry.

Chapter 4- Henry Whistler

Chapter Four- Young Henry Whistler, First Generation of Whistlers to be Crackers.
Little Henry would become a patriarch of this saga’s family tree. Although, Henry was not born in the state he became part of the Cracker Legacy of Lee County, Florida.

Red haired, blue-eyed Henry screamed his first greeting around 7:00 on the morning of June 5, 1852 south of what is now Birmingham, Alabama to his proud parents Irish John Whistler and his fiery wife Samantha.

Henry’s father John grew cotton. He was a tall slender, blue-eyed man with broad shoulders, and reddish hair and his mother Samantha was tall, fair complexioned with bright red hair. John and Samantha had been married two years and anxiously awaited the birth of their son. At Henry’s arrival, they were the picture perfect young family that seemed destined for good things.

Samantha and John enjoyed raising their son. Henry was an active boy and from an early age always seemed to be thinking. Samantha and Henry spent plenty of leisure time in the yard. Often Samantha sat in one of the slat chairs under the shade of an old oak and watched Henry learn his life’s lessons and grow.

When he was four or so one of his first chores was weeding in his mother’s garden. He worked the yard’s fence rows trying to weed hard to reach places for the family goats which were fenced out of the garden. By pulling weeds Henry stayed busy doing some man‘s work for his Momma. Usually Henry fed goats the pulled weeds and talked with them. Sometimes they would nip his fingers so it did not take long for Henry to learn to give them plenty of grass to grab in a bite.

While goats are cantankerous, Henry learned not to take the goat’s pugnacious nature personal. They were just contrary at times as Henry discovered. He learned to appreciate his goat-friend’s ornery sense of humor over time. Normally, the goats ignored Henry weeding but today the black and white Billy played with him by butting Henry when he was not looking. Probably the goats were mutely laughing at Henry, but they appeared guiltless after each assault. Time and time again Henry fell face first inexplicably. All Henry knew was every time he bent to pull some weeds “WHAM” he would fall on his face. Samantha watched Henry and his hilarious bewilderment as that rank old goat snuck up on Henry and butted him over a dozen times that morning. Henry eventually understood the game when he saw his Ma gleefully laughing her face beet red, nearly on the ground with hilarity.

 

Henry looked at his mom dazed and said, “This darn goat keeps knocking me down, and I feed him all the grass I pull”

Samantha smiled broadly and said “Your Billie is playing goat games with you, he plays a little rough, maybe you should take a break and come sit with Momma a while.”

Henry came and sat next to Samantha, leaning on her elbow like children do.
She tussled his hair and said, “I love you Henry, you are my little man.” Raising her son on her peaceful farm was exactly what she wanted to provide Henry; just as her family had raised her a mile or so up the road.

At six years old, Henry could aim and shoot his mother’s squirrel gun accurately if she loaded it. By nine, he knew how to read, write, add and subtract at a time when most adults were illiterate. He was always a well-behaved little man. Samantha proudly walked with him to the homestead village surrounded by cotton. He and Samantha would visit the butcher‘s general store, the church and her family’s plantation when the time and chores permitted. Henry’s father John worked for Samantha’s uncle and brother at the Cannon family plantation north of town.

John and Samantha owned a 40-acre spread south of town with an old farmhouse John’s grandfather had owned. In a subsistence garden of three acres or so, they grew greens, squash, corn, cotton, turnips and tobacco. The remaining land was pasture for their breeder pair of red walking horses and the horse’s shed for them to get out of the weather when they choose to. An old barn stood next to the cabin with additional stalls for the horses, a milk cow, hay, feed, and tools, saddles and other gear. They enjoyed their ancient log home and it’s farm life. John’s ancestors arrived in Massachusetts many generations ago and migrated to the Virginia colony to farm tobacco and cotton. In the early years of the 18th century they came to Georgia to eventually settle west in Alabama Indian lands to the farm John had and Little Henry was born.

As time passed, ten-year-old Henry was nearly five-foot tall, freckle-faced and skinny as a pole. He might play after school for a short while but was always happy to go home to his evening chores. He had goats, chickens and a yearling bull to take care of in the mornings before school and evenings before dinner. The war came to Henry at this age. The farm animals he prized, but war baffled him. He worried about his animals, school friends, parents and the teacher he had a crush on like all the other boys in class. To the South it seemed the Confederacy was destined to win, but most were apprehensive of Civil War.

His father, John joined a Confederate company and marched off to war. Henry missed him badly and watched as his mother suffered as well. He shared Samantha’s sadness and together they worried about John.
About two years later , John came home. He had been injured and went home with a broken leg. Homeward bound, carrying a rifle, and canteen, broken-legged John made his way hundreds of miles. Surviving by living off the lands berries, drinking from streams, lakes, and rivers. He walked on the farm and both Samantha and Henry ran to him, hugging John almost to the ground. Wordlessly the three walked to the cabin and went in. John sat at the table with Henry and Samantha standing at either side.

Henry wiped some tears from his face and said, “I am so happy to see you Dad.”

John smiled, cried with joy and relief, and did not bother to wipe his tears, as he had grown accustomed to. When a soldier lets go he is past the point of being concerned with his tears. He puts an arm around Henry’s waist, pulls him close, and then does the same with Samantha.

Samantha talks through her sobs, “I am going to cook you some eggs and bacon right now. She stays where she is drinking it all in, then heads to the stove to cook.

She says over her shoulder, “Henry, go fetch some britches and shirt for your Daddy.”

She asks John, “Do want to wash up at the well?”

John smiles and walks to the well. Henry runs close behind with clean clothes and a full of joyous heart. John is still in a funk, it has been a rough journey home and rougher war. After their meal he enjoys a hot bath Samantha and Henry prepared in the tub. John needed to unwind a day, that first day home he was quiet as he had some cobwebs in his mind. As the day drew down and evening was upon him he slept in his own bed with Samantha by his side.
The next morning John felt great and excitedly started the day. He went to the barn and milked the cow and went back in the cabin to put the milk in the kitchen. It was very early, maybe three in the morning, but Samantha set at the kitchen table by an oil lamp burning low.

John came in and whispered, “Here is the milk” and Samantha put it in a cool box on the kitchen floor by the back door.
Samantha shrugs her shoulder and rubs her arm with a wince. “My arm has been hurting me at night lately.”
She walked next to John and leaned against him. Pointing at her arm saying, “Right there.”
John rubbed her arm a minute, started on her shoulder, and sighed. Samantha, sporting a wickedly innocent smile grabbed his free hand and walked him back to bed.

After waking again John is back up, Samantha and Henry are doing the morning chores and breakfast minus the eggs waited for John on the Table. Samantha stops working and walks by John, patting his back as she passes.

Samantha feeds the old potbelly some kindling and a chunk of a log. She was excited that Henry would be going to school shortly and starts humming as she cracks two eggs in the frying pan. She looks at John as he starts eating, their eyes meet, and Samantha winks. John has a full smile that is not going away anytime soon and Samantha flips the eggs. Henry walks in, hugs his Ma and Pa, and heads to school cheerfully.

Samantha coyly asks John, “Would you like some more?”

John starts laughing and chuckles back, “Darn tootin, soon as I finish this breakfast my frisky lass”

Samantha and John spend the day catching up on lost time. Henry comes home in the afternoon with his parents setting on the settee on the front porch, Henry grabs the rocker and sits. Everyone smiles at one another wordlessly, Henry breaks the silence with a question.

“Do you need me to do anything before I start my chores?”

John gets up and shakes his head no “I want to do the chores with you.”
Henry beams a grin and the two walk to the barn for the horses oats and head to the pasture. Samantha stays on the settee grinning watching them together. Once they were out of sight she started finishing the dinner to be on the table in a couple of hours after the men of the house are ready.

Out in the horse pasture Henry and John put the oats in two shallow wooden boxes on posts and the horses eat. John pats the mare and tells Henry, “You have all the animals looking great.”
Henry shrugs his shoulders. He tried hard to keep everything up, it was hard for a ten-year-old to do everything right but he learned fast.

Henry says, “I do my best, you taught me most and my mistakes taught me the rest.”

John shakes his head in disbelief at how much his son had grown. Henry is becoming a man.
He pats Henry’s back, “You have grown so much in the two years I’ve been gone Henry, I am very proud of you.”

Henry beams his grin and claims, “I am proud of you Dad, you are at war and we hear how bad it is.”
John’s face sobers thinking of the battles and friends lost, “I pray you never understand what hell it is Son. You, your mother and our farm and the Cannon family is my world, but the fight goes on.”
The men head to the farmyard to see the animals have food and water.
Once finished admiring chickens and playing with the goats they join Samantha. She has a pork roast smelling like a dream. The turnips are in the roast pan absorbing the juices from the pork shoulder. Collards were in a bowl on the table with plates and forks. Henry and John get the steaming roast platter to the table as Samantha finishes the pork gravy. Samantha and the gravy come to the table, the men stand and let her sit, Then John Asks Henry for a dinner prayer. All three bow heads and hold hands.

Henry prays, “Thank you Lord for bringing Pa home, for Ma and Pa loving me and for the great life we have. Please protect us during this war. We thank you Lord for this dinner and all our blessings. Amen”

Samantha starts loading plates as John carves the roast, Henry’s mouth is watering waiting for Ma to be ready to eat.
Samantha sets to her plate and says “Dig in fellas”

Samantha’s home cooking melts in John’s mouth and is better than any other food he ever ate, but John cannot forget the last battle he was in. It was in the North and was a rout. His company was shot to pieces and during the retreat, he was left for dead. He woke to sounds of guns, large and small off in the distance as he crawled deeper in the thicket. He had a bad headache and could barely cover himself in brush. When he woke again he heard no battles and his company was gone. He saw no soldiers Confederate or Union.

John knew his home was southwest and off he began his journey with his bum leg and empty belly. He had his Sharps Rifle he recovered off a union cavalry soldier with a large bag of paper cartridges he had learned to prepare and his canteen. After a month of foraging and limping, he came across a homestead in the woods. John knew he had to be in the South. He walked straight to the man in his garden and asked, “Where am I”

The farmer spit some tobacco to be able to speak and said, “Alabama, fifty miles south of Birmingham. The farmer offered some venison left over from supper and gave him a handkerchief with a couple of pounds of fried venison. John filled his canteen from the farmers trough and went on his way, he made it home in a week. John did not care what his company would think of him going home, unfortunately he did care what he thought of himself. He knew he barely lived through quite a few battles and he loved his family so much, he had to go to Atlanta and join the Confederate Army regiment Johnson’s Guard there. He stayed home a week and returned to defend Atlanta.

Before leaving, He hands a heavy rifle to Henry and says, “Keep this oiled for me Son.”

All three are heartbroken but the war rages on and John’s duty to serve included protecting his family, he had no option.
Samantha was distraught when she woke Henry the fateful morning in 1864 . She had not been in town yesterday when the posting appeared, but Ruby stopped by very early in the morning and broke the news. Ruby was in her 30’s and was Samantha’s sister. She had red hair and a complexion like Samantha but not as tall.  Samantha heard the knock and saw Ruby in a black dress out the front window by the door. The red hair and white complexion was a stark contrast to the black dress Ruby had on and it raised an instinctual alarm in Samantha as she thought “Why a black dress on such a beautiful morning?”

Samantha answered the door with a smile in the early hour because she was always happy to see Ruby. Samantha wondered why Ruby did not have her daughter with her this morning thinking, “Where is Savana?”.

Ruby had been crying and Samantha asked, “What’s wrong sweetheart?”   Shaken and nervous Ruby says she has to sit down. She sat at the kitchen table and started crying. She wordlessly motioned for Samantha to sit next to her.

When Samantha sat down Ruby started talking “I stopped by the church before dinner yesterday and the pastor posted the casualties from the Army. John was on the list my love. I have cried all night and day because I fear for you and Henry. What will you do?”.

Samantha’s tears welled up and she could not speak. Ruby patted the back of her hand and together they cried wordlessly for an hour.

Samantha finally spoke “I must wake Henry, please stay here and be with us”. Shaking her head as if not able to believe the truth Samantha walked to Henry’s room. She knew how much her son loves his father and how hard the jolt of shock will be.

That day in 1864, he lost his hero and father. John died in a battle near Atlanta. All young Henry had left besides memories of his lost father was John’s army rifle, knife and the will to use them. He was very lonely for his dad and his pain grew from head-spinning shock to terminal bitterness. Henry’s environment changed from the gentility of youth to a world of every man for himself without his father in it.

Six-months after the fall of Atlanta the town got wind the union neared for occupation, things turned bad. Typically, the Yankee troops brought the bleakest austerity. Hell became the reality. With the news that Union troops arrived, former trusted friends turned to cowards. Many of his trusted friends became thieves in the night. Looting then fleeing with neighbor’s property and cash was the rule of the day. Trusting friends and family were the common prey for these thieves. Others simply left all responsibilities not mobile behind and ran south to Florida or out west for their lives.

Fear made the folk act, as never before in reaction to the fear their world will burn to the ground. The townspeople Henry had known from birth turned into traitors, cheats, thieves, and even born-again abolitionists. People starved as the union troops ate all in sight. Samantha and Henry had to claw and scratch out an existence. Past trash was now treasure and going without was the only option. The townspeople surrendered to the troops what they asked for and went home to nothing if they had a home after the troops picked quarters. Any of the people living in the cotton plantations, sharecroppers and the like, knew their homes were to burn with the cotton. With some living in the street, the little homestead village became distorted, unclean. Homelessness here or to flee became their choice.

That was when the Cannon men, father and son, got on their horses and rode off. The women and children were already gone but the men would not leave until they had to. The plantation had been in the Cannon family for generations and it was their life too. As the pair rode off a union musket ball rang out and hit Henry Cannon knocking him off his horse.

His son Jake jumped out of his saddle and kneeled by his father asking “Where are you hit”.

Grandpa Henry Cannon growled “In the guts, you run like hell, now!.”  

As Jake got up to mount his horse, a shot hit him in the head. He fell over his dad Henry; they both died there and burned with the cotton.

Samantha’s family had the oldest plantation and its cotton was the first burn. The day the cotton burned the union army rode up to the Cannon Family’s plantation eastern fence and their riders tore it down. Then the troops rode or marched over it. The union army commandeered the family home. While her family was the founder of the tiny village no one noticed their plight. Samantha felt the townsmen betrayed the Cannon family.

After that, Little Henry started running around with his cousin Jake, who at 13 held a mighty big grudge against the union army. Jake carried a squirrel gun and Henry shot his Ma’s musket.

Truth be known both squirrel guns were their mothers, who had them since they could hunt with their fathers and brothers. When the boy’s mothers were girls, the adventure available to them was in the woods hunting and talking. When their mothers were young, they hunted everyday that they did not have to be homebound with chores. The small-bore guns were light for a girl to pack. These boys felt very upset that their uncle, grandfather and Henry’s dad, Big John died by despicable acts of the enemy.

Jake’s dad was still alive fighting in Georgia, but just thinking of him hurt made little Jake angry. Jake and Henry searched good spots to sneak a shot at union soldiers instead of squirrels. They had to be slick because they would be killed same as grownups. These were some angry boys. Sometimes anger medicates tortured souls in depression and these young fellows were hurting bad, that was surely the cause.

The first soldier they shot felt good to the boys, good to strike back at the awesome power of the union troops and the killers of many family and friends. Henry never did feel regret or remorse, not after his Pa died protecting him from the union Yankees. Not after they took all of his animals and anything else he could not hide. Not after his Ma missed Pa so strong that her joy died, replaced with a lonesome yearning for his Pa easily recognized in her eyes.

Thus he started killing in a time of war and what was right and wrong was a fuzzy issue. A solitary union man was walking towards town; guess he did not rate a horse. The boys wanted to kill some soldiers and here was their chance. Crouched down in the trees about 50 yards off the road Jake whispered in Henry’s ear “Let’s shoot this fella here and strike one up for the South. Little Jake and Henry aimed, Jake shot first and struck the soldier in the head. Henry put his hammer back down gently and smiled at Jake. They stayed down for 10 minutes and when they knew the coast was clear they snuck off. The soldier never stirred lying in the road on the way to town. The death waited until the next morning for discovery. After safely away from the dead soldier, Henry and Jake celebrate.

“You sure shot the eye out that squirrel” Henry snickered through a grin.

Jake scratched his head and shook it a little.
“Henry, I guess it’s right to kill them Yankees but I feel a little strange about it”

Henry replied, “I feel funny too, as I want to go dance a funny jig on a Yankee’s grave”

Jake smiles and he and Henry go home with Jake knowing Henry would never feel bad about killing Yankees.
The boys told their mothers they were going to the woods to hunt then they would sniper soldiers walking alone or in pairs. Since the union took over the plantation many soldiers walked that road to town and back to the plantation. After a few killings, the soldiers got nervous and started searching the woods along the road.

The boys could hear them in the woods and stayed clear of them. They picked different roads around the plantation and waited and when it looked like they were sure to get away, they took a shot and crept off to a new spot or down by the creek. There they talked about the killing or Jake’s dad being out there fighting or how the Yankees stole all the farm animals and ate them. Nearly all the goats, chickens, and pigs were gone. Only one of the chickens eluded capture and escaped in the woods, Henry seen it in the trees but did not want to shoot the last of the bunch.

One day the boys got caught. They fired on three soldiers and only hit one. Henry missed his shot and the soldiers made a dash to the boy’s location. Jake managed to get another shot off and killed the second soldier but the third soldier shot Jake in the head with his pistol at close range as a frozen Henry watched his brother-like cousin Jake die, Henry could not get the powder in his barrel fast enough to stop the killing of Jake and it made Henry never hesitate again.

The soldier made sure Jake was dead and then snatched Henry by the collar and marched him to the road. Henry stumbled and when the soldier bent to snatch him up Henry stuck big John’s hunting knife in the soldier’s guts to the hilt and somehow yanked the knife out to stick in the soldier’s neck, then watched him die too. Henry was drowning in shock and very confused as he held on to the knife in the dead soldier’s neck for a while. He finally snapped out of it and realized no matter what happened he had to get gone. Henry gathered the weapons and ran to his Aunt Ruby’s house. He ran in and told his Aunt.
“We were shooting at soldiers and they shot at us, I think Jake is dead.”

Ruby said, “Take me to him Henry” and out the door they ran.  They eased up on the site of the shooting. Ruby almost fell over the soldier who Henry had knifed and only then did she start looking over the scene. Ruby scooped up her 13 yr. old son over her shoulder and off they ran. A few minutes away from the scene, Ruby had to put Jake down. She held his hand, cried and prayed for his soul. After 15 minutes or so Ruby said she was ready to go on.

Henry said,  “Aunt Ruby, I know how sad you have been and I have watched you and momma suffer and now this. I am sorry, it all happened so fast”.

Ruby Looked up and said “Why were you boys shooting at the soldiers?”

Henry looked her in the eyes and said “We shot them for killing our family. I want to shoot some more”

Ruby looked at him and saw he was not mad, just certain. She loved him as one of her own and she did not let on that she understood and might have agreed. Her son was gone, her little brother, her father, Henry’s dad Big John, and her James was fighting somewhere south of Atlanta, Ruby was becoming resentful and angry. Henry grabbed Jake’s feet and helped Ruby bring him home.

Henry learned to be sneaky, conniving and merciless in this cesspool for humanity. Nothing coming out of this could be good. In this period, young Henry gained his very evil ways, the habits, and methods that would serve him well when he became the ruthless pirate of his inescapable destiny. Someday Henry would rule his own domain with an iron fist and a cold heart. He would never regret doing what he felt needed to be done.

Although Samantha’s loss was genuine, she would not bow to the despair. She would find a way to leave town and flee to the Southern half of Florida to her oldest brother’s house. Samantha will get Henry away from the union army and their murdering Yankee soldiers. She was so tired of the awful war and needed to find some family to lean on. Her home just took more every day. Her Momma and Aunt were already on their way to Florida and she was ready.

She longed for John but he was in a better place, she was in the Yankee hell south of Birmingham and needed to move on. Life would only be so hard on a fetching lass as herself. She could always count on her charms and men’s foolishness. Samantha was very curvy and possessed a captivating beauty.

The Union soldiers were her ticket to freedom and a young Captain was an apparent Company Commander. She walked by him once and he followed with manners but insistence in talking with her. The more he heard the quicker the wheels in his mind spun. He was tall, slim, and genuinely interested in Samantha’s troubles. He gave her travel money and a supply mule team driven wagon to travel south. Samantha was so very grateful. A girl had to do whatever to survive and survive she and Henry would. 
When Henry and his red-haired mother Samantha fled to Florida, total chaos had set in. The bulk of the Union troops finished their burning trek through the state and seemed to pause north of the plantation at the Tennessee River just as Henry and his Ma were beginning the journey to Henry’s Uncle Luther‘s house in Fort Myers.

Ten years earlier Luther moved to Florida and formed the Alabama Citrus Company. Luther saw the wisdom in a farming operation below Florida’s freeze belt. Maybe Henry and Samantha can start anew there.
The first day on the trail was uneventful. That evening they found a nice place close to the trail and set up camp. The wagon had many personal keepsakes for the Florida homestead. They had some linen, silverware from Ireland and dresses from Atlanta, Baltimore or New York. Most of their possessions worth keeping had fit in the wagon the Captain had furnished.
They had canned foods from the garden since spring and staples like flour, lard and sugar were available to them in the wagon. Henry and Samantha slept with smiles on their faces from their escape. They woke up to no wagon or mules. The only thing left of their possessions were John’s rifle he had taken possession of in earlier battles of the war and other gear that Henry slept with. Samantha retained the days clean clothes she set out last night and of course her purse.

Samantha looked at Henry and said, “If that don’t beat all”

Henry looked at his Mom and replied” Ma, we don’t have a thing left and not a mule to carry it”.

She said back “I know son, this is some mighty trying times, maybe we better get down the road before we don’t have each other”.

Henry looked up through his teary blue eyes and freckles with a fearful glance and whimpered his question “I am sore bellied for breakfast and we don’t have anything to eat do we?”

Samantha shook her head and said “We have a little to carry, we have the shovel and that box of kitchen tools by the fire, the plates and pot for coffee and that bit of coffee in the rag in that pot but we should save that for tonight”. She decided they had whined enough and said” Henry we need to go and start our walk to Florida.” She knew the journey would be hell and the longer it took, the worse it would be.

Her brother Luther would straighten them out if they made it. After shaking off the shock they fashioned a convenient way to carry the leftovers and started the day, without breakfast. Leaving in September Henry and his Ma traveled through six months of hell at a rate of two or sometimes four miles a day on foot in the security of the thickest of woods. The small families only hope lay with Uncle Luther and the safety of Florida. Traveling in the fall gave them cold nights and hot days. They slept hiding in the woods like animals and in the mornings headed south.

Once winter set in, they slept during the day and traveled at night to hide and stay warm. Palmetto heart and wild grapes and other wood’s fare like gopher berry, mulberry, and huckleberry would go right through you but was plentiful until the first hard freeze of winter. Some small towns were quiet and safe enough looking to venture in to. Every town has good and bad and although Henry and Samantha had no desire in meeting either they entered a few towns for trail goods.

One incident along the trek came from a man who took interest in the pair after spotting them buying supplies near Jacksonville. The stranger Henry observed was wearing a brown and worn leather coat and chaps. He rode a brown pony about 12 or 13 hands high and had a rifle in his scabbard. With dark complexion and a squinting-eyed face staring at Henry’s mother the boy grew scared and feared the man. With an obvious obsession in his hard to see, face peaking through its gray beard and hat Henry could see the man was cause for concern. In an attempt to avoid trouble, they stayed clear of the roads with their road agents and low lives. Henry noticed this man looking at Samantha and when leaving recognized his horse from afar leaving town five minutes after Henry and Samantha. This suspicious character tracked them from town and watched them leave the road to the woods.

It was early in the morning when this man rides to Henry’s sleeping spot, he must have been tracking them after sleeping all night in the woods nearby. Henry, just dozing off awakened at the sound of the hooves. He hears the familiar clip-clop sound of a horse from one hundred steps or better. Henry sights his loaded rifle just under the hat of this miscreant and takes his shot.

“CAPOWW” the smoking round roared as it left the barrel and hit the stranger in the head with a thud and skips through the trees upon its exit. The shot jerks the man clear of his saddle, throwing him to the ground with a flop and Henry is thrilled. The rifle shoots true and packs a powerful impact.

John gained this firearm; a Sharps Calvary rifle developed in 1859 for the Union Cavalry, in early battles and brought it home in the early part of 1864. Henry’s pride in the single shot and his excitement from the guns effect are obvious by his shaking hands, triumphant smile and wide, happy eyes. Now Henry understood, this was no squirrel gun. The sight of Henry’s joy would normally warm a mother’s soul but not this time.

Him standing there in his trail weary attire of sun-faded blue overhauls, brown coat, his bright red-hair, shining blue eyes and grin beaming his rarely enjoyed glee was a remarkable sight. It should have been contagious to his Ma, but it did not work that way.

Samantha, awake from the shot sleepily walks to Henry shaking her head in disgust. Henry’s mother, grabbing the rifle from a flinching Henry cried “So, why did you kill him?” She continued “What did he do to get shot for “ Henry said ” He followed us all night and was going to hurt you and me, he rode because we had something worth killing us for”.  

She replied, “He might never have seen us. You are too quick on the trigger. Life is not for you to take needlessly”. 

She was disgusted with any part in a man’s death she might have played and for Henry enjoying such a cowardly act. Then Samantha promptly whipped young Henry within an inch of his life with the musket butt. First she caught Henry off guard with a poking barrel to the midsection and back flipped the butt over handed on his forehead with a KLUNK, the same way Samantha would beat out a hanging rug with a broom. Standing over a dazed Henry lying on the ground she grasped the barrel and used the butt end as if she was pounding butter in a churn. His ribs were a safe bet for his Ma once he was down to help him remember. She tapped his ribs with the edges of the butt to beat them thoroughly, as if she was trying to separate the meat from his rib bones while she growled at him about his bad behavior. Each sentence of her berating had a rib bruising exclamation point.

Henry, mercifully unconscious, missed the verbal tirade from the headshot she inflicted with his rifle. Samantha knew the whipping was brutal and although he is not yet thirteen Henry now is man sized and needed the strongest discipline she could muster, it might curb his lack of respect for God’s given life and the Lord’s teachings. His ribs would hurt a long time for him to consider what she said. A mother’s work is never done. 

The man’s horse looked to be starving as bad as Henry. When he shot the highwayman, he had planned to eat some of it but when he woke from the beating it was gone, Ma had sent it off. “Aw Ma” he croaks as he tries to rise on shaky legs, “That horse had a back strap that would have fed us fresh meat and pounds of jerked for later on down the trail” Henry mumbled.

It was near the end of winter and berries and varmints were gone or thin. Samantha was not about to let Henry gain anything from his senseless act. This was not the first man Henry killed but was the last in her presence. Boy his ribs were sore and when he took a breath it had a corresponding knife sharp pain.  Samantha shook her head to herself behind Henry’s back regretting the egg-sized lump she put on Henry’s forehead. The war was not going to make him a murdering animal, not if she could help it. 

Samantha said, “Henry, I am starved as much as you but you are not going to kill strangers for your needs, no matter how strong the need is. You will not be a killer to stay fed, or have the things you want. I know you have shot men who were shooting at us and killed many at a young age but that was kill or be killed. This was not, you just shot him because you were scared and you could eat his horse and keep a camp for a few days. We do not have time to set in a camp, even to eat some poor fella’s horse”.

Samantha would have had that man eating out of the palm of her hand, and her hand was a bit lonesome if the truth were known. 

Henry spoke to Samantha as respectful as he could when he said, “Ma, I found him following us to our camp and I think he was in town when we left. He followed us out of town and all night, He was going to kill us for what we have. I am scared to the bone that someone will catch us sleeping again and kill us this time”

Samantha said, “Henry, you wait for a weapon to be drawn next time if you are going to defend us. I love you and you make me proud, this journey is so hard for any human and half grown you have made it possible for us to survive it, but if you became a murderer I would wish us both dead, please don’t do it again”.

Henry’s hate and fear were so strong that Henry just wanted to shoot anyone they cross paths with. Most grown men are bigger than Henry, who at almost thirteen was gaining height fast, but weighed one hundred and twenty pounds. A full head of red hair and ice blue eyes caught most off guard. Henry needed an edge and surprise was a good one. He had to protect his Ma and himself. That is easiest from a distance.

Ma did not agree with Henry saying, “A real man can let people come up close enough to get to know them. You are not a coward; you can’t kill everybody you run into in the woods that you do not know.”  

Samantha felt he was using her as an excuse to kill all he could because it made him feel big and in charge. She said “Henry, you keep killing and someday a posse will hunt you down and shoot you like a dog or take you home to hang in front of your family and friends” She prayed he would grow up and listen to his Mamma.  

Henry noticed some of the cowboys sported a grey Confederate hat or shirt and this lightened his mood knowing the union must not be this far south. Henry was right in that the union forces did not influence the area and were weak this far south although they had a company in Ft. Myers it was not a dominating force.

Arcadia will be out of reach for outside law enforcement forty years after the war. More people die in Desoto County than out west at the turn of the century due to cattle range disputes. Arcadia, a wild cow town community had up to 50 gunfights a week as the range wars were constant with range justice enforced and revenged by others keeping the pot of murder boiling for the entire decade of the 1890‘s.

As they walked past a trio of cattlemen, the men invited Henry and Samantha to their camp. A big man on a roan was waving his hand at Samantha and Henry calling “Hello over there” He came riding up a minute later and said “What are you folks doing out here? It’s hotter than a frying pan in the devil’s house today”
Samantha said, “We are from Alabama and heading to my brothers house in Fort Myers”

The Big Cowboy smiled and said “My Name is Matthew” as he come off his horse, landing on his feet he raised a dust. He dusted himself and his hands and shook Henry’s hand and took off his hat when he spoke to Samantha shyly saying “You both look hungry and thirsty, want a drink of my water” as he handed out his round army canteen to them. Henry looked to his ma and she looked at the big cowboy and saw he was just a teenager.

Samantha took the offered canteen and said “Thank you Matthew, I am Samantha Whistler and this is my son, Henry”.

Matthew smiled and said, “Please come to our camp, my brother and our partner have dinner for tonight and will be cooking soon. It isn’t a mile from here”.

Samantha and Henry smiled and followed Matthew to the camp. About an hour later Henry and Samantha met Coleman and Jacob. Coleman took off his hat and so did Jacob as they walked up to Matthew and his dinner guest. Coleman was big like his brother Matthew and just as polite.

He looked at Samantha and said, “My name is Coleman Weeks and this here is Jacob Bartow” then he patted Jacob on the back who smiled and nodded his head. Coleman then asked, “Would you like to go to my aunt’s house in town, she would feed you a lot better than my cooking?

Samantha Smiled and squinted from the early evening sun going down behind Coleman and said, “Thank you Coleman, My name is Samantha and this is my son Henry. We have walked from North Alabama and are heading to my Brother Luther Cannon’s home in Fort Myers. I could not think of imposing on your aunt but we would appreciate some of that fresh pork you have there”.
Jacob spoke his first words of the meeting on the prairie with “Please set back off the fire a bit and I will fix you a plate ma’am, Henry, jump up here, and get some grub”.

Henry smiled at the cowboys as if they were heroes and waited for them to load their plates first. Jacob handed Samantha a plate and she blushed and thanked him. She thought to herself” These cowboys are so polite, I hope it rubs off on Henry, I would be so proud if he grew to be like these men”. 

It was early evening with the cowboys fried fresh pork smelling like heaven cracking in the pan, last week’s biscuits and fresh coffee to wash the meal down, which was the finest cuisine the pair had enjoyed since leaving Alabama. It was also the first sign of human compassion to exist on the long arduous trail. These cracker cowboys, two in their twenties or late teens had mothers like Samantha and brothers like Henry at home. Two of the young men were brothers being Matt and Coleman Weeks. They said they had cousins in the Carolinas but their family had been cowboys in Florida a hundred years. The third man, Jacob Bartow, who looked to older than Samantha quietly made Her and Henry feel at home. Jacob, a skinny cowboy, very quiet but friendly had cousins that married Seminoles and he himself looked a bit Indian. Jacob was the elder of the trio by a generation but seemed just as affable. They all looked about the same though, tall and thin with brown hair. Florida’s hellacious sun would keep her cowboys thin and faded, but they were tougher than nails on the trail. Folks like Samantha and Henry nearly burned alive on the trail during the hot days in the spring of 1865 in Arcadia, but the cowboys flourished. Samantha and Henry were ecstatic to wash the meals gear (tin plates and iron pan) and enjoy a night by the fire listening to the cowboys banter and stories.

The next morning was a little sad goodbye for the pair who relished the security of being among friends but south they trekked. Coleman had drawn a map in the sand by the fire and pointed them to the southwest. They were to walk in that direction until they found the River. Then they were to follow it to the town of Ft. Myers.

After many months of wading, crawling, and jumping away from snakes the pair arrives in southwest Florida’s Lee County near Luther’s Groves. Samantha and Henry came to a creek bed a little before dark and decided to camp there. They had some of the cowboys biscuits, dried meat and sat down to enjoy their meat, biscuits, and coffee the young men had shared. Henry took the pan, fork, silverware, and tin plates to the little creek and washed the dishes in the current.

Unbeknownst to Henry a large gator was making his way to him, but Henry was gone before he could be ate. Henry comes back and says, “The winds are swapping west to northwest, I hope it don’t get any colder” It was a miracle the two survived the trek through Florida.

Later in the evening, the wind had tuned to a steady western blow, strong enough to blow Henry’s hair in his face when he turned the wrong way.   Now a cool breeze is blowing from the west off the Gulf and the clouds are going by fast. The wind is a relief, blowing too hard for bugs to swarm. Henry is just taking it all in. The moon looks ghostly full when not hiding behind the racing clouds and the little creek is swift as well with an occasional snap of silver mullet breaking the top. It is the fourth full moon of the year and a sweet, pungent aroma tells of a grove well into its flowering cycle. With their relief audible in their breath, they realize safety, family and friends are near. Henry looks at his gaunt, sunburned mom and they hug for the first time since the killing and whipping. 

Samantha said, “That orange blossom smell must be Luther’s groves”.

The sweet smell is sweeter than the French perfume called “Orange Blossom” she had from Atlanta, but she recognized it. Henry said, “Ma, that smells like your perfume”. Soon Henry’s Uncle had him working in his grove south of Ft. Myers with the operations ramrod, Captain Wrightson. Henry loves this cow town of Ft. Myers. Not a Yankee in sight and life here was normal. There are no highwaymen, no troops burning towns. Of course, you could go to town and see the daily pistol and or knife fights. Sporting bare-knuckle events between friends and foe in the taverns and the streets or alleys were common entertainment and a fight is like a flower, it blooms and throws seeds amongst the observers who, after time will start their own broohaw.

Too soon, Henry and his rye had trouble staying sober long enough to watch the town’s sometimes lethal shenanigans or at least remember them. As he aged through his teen years, Henry was very content to call Ft. Myers home. He enjoyed the backroom brothel occasionally but his money did not come easy. More often, he would drink on First Street and hit the mash with his acquaintances from town who worked for Jacob Summerlin out at his Punta Rassa ranch. This ranch ranged from town southwest to today’s Iona and Punta Rassa to the south.
 
Mr. Summerlin had much more than that.
 
The docks at Punta Rassa shipped 35,000 to 40,000 head of cattle some years back in the 1830’s and 1840’s. Jacob Summerlin scrubs mavericks out of Lee County and the surrounding local area but he rode all the way to Tampa with little camps he worked along the way. Henry worked 5 and ½ days each week, 12-16 hours a day, but he figured cattle work was harder. He was happy to wake because he was becoming a better grove man every day.

Henry learned fast in the farmyard and at school, even during the war and traveling to Florida. Henry had always learned fast and for that, he is happy.

The Caloosahatchee River runs through Fort Myers and empties into Estero Bay. Henry worked in two groves for his uncles company, one on the river and one up Moccasin Creek several miles south of town.

The company had a huge grove on Moccasin Creek and Henry helped manage pickers (use to be slaves) and kept the groves with the Captain. The company sent the slaves down to the groves before the war with Captain Wrightson commanding ship from Mobile Bay down to Ft. Myers and Estero.
 Uncle Luther and the Captain felt that slaves would always be slaves and Henry agreed and treated them that way. Ft. Myers was a dandy place all right and Henry was finally home. Much to Henry and his friends chagrin, the population of Florida was 25% emancipated slaves, which was a sore subject for Fort Myers in 1865.

Footnotes:
*The union’s black troops rarely showed themselves outside of the fort during the war but they were non-existent after the war. They had to travel battalion strength as groups of two or four would disappear, presumably in the swamps under a Gator hole. The purpose of these troops were to harass confederate cattle shipments and they saw some action in Charlotte Harbor and north but south of Ft. Myers was a no-no and southeast to Immokalee was unheard of. Those cowboys Samantha and Henry met east of Arcadia said they never saw any Union troops. The Seminoles kept white man jumping when he was east of town, especially Union troops. I am sure Punta Gorda had plenty of armed citizens as well but it was a hot spot with it’s dock suitable for driving cattle on to large waiting ships. The Union Navy was a constant companion to the dock and the harbor was clearly a priority.

The Seminoles stayed away from town. They stayed in the swamps with the cattle and the freedom they took from the union troops a generation ago. The three Seminole Wars saved many southern Indians from the trail of tears that went west of the Mississippi River. Never surrendering the Seminoles forces resettled their braves and families to central and in south Florida.

The Seminoles occupied the southeastern United States for 12,000 years. The U.S. Government granted citizenship to the Seminole Tribe in 1934.

In pre Revolutionary War times many of the Irish-Scottish immigrants were in servitude to pay their passage but were educated and well equipped to be the business and civic leaders many of them were destined to become. Irish immigration began in the 17th century but they were soon to be the most populous immigrant in the colonies excluding the English. In 1718, a large group of Irish -Scottish immigrants came to America and the stream continued until the Revolutionary War and continued once the war was over.

Chapter 3- Mollie and Jacob Bartow

Chapter Three- Zeke’s Daughter Mollie and Jacob Bartow
Little Mollie grew to womanhood without her mother, but her Father and Grandparents did the best they could. Mollie married when she was fourteen and followed her cowpoke-husband Jacob around as he drove cattle for Zeke or the Roberts clan who were related by marriage generations back to the Witt Clan.

Zeke did not wish for Mollie to ride herd because cow collecting was hard and very dangerous work, but he had no way of controlling her after she married. Zeke never did appreciate Jacob Bartow’s presence in Mollie and his life and from time to time considered doing away with him and often wondered what Mollie’s mother would think about it if she were alive. Zeke was tempted most days and kept his temper like a true man as he never drew a bead on Jacob’s back or even laid a hand on him. Jacob and Mollie sensed the turmoil Zeke suffered and it scared them mightily, which drove them away a bit so they could enjoy their independence. Zeke understood this and continued to love and help his daughter by accepting Jacob as best as he could.

Mollie rode herd in the early years of marriage teaming with Jacob collecting mavericks, but the work made it impossible for them to start a family. After seven or eight years passed they homesteaded a ranch in the Indian lands on the northern banks of the Caloosahatchee. It was over a days ride east of the Ft. Myers settlement during the period between the Indian war years and almost a decade before the Civil War.

The Indians were family for Mollie and many were cousins, but Jacob was an outsider and although they were safe from attack the tribe felt free to take any herd they built for themselves and this limited their ranching substantially. Any cows kept close to their cabin was safe, but the pasture was open to moonlight raids by the tribe. This pressure kept their herd down to a dozen or less because cattle grazed up 20 acres pretty quick and any further away from their cabin meant the tribe would come get them when it struck their fancy.

Although the cattle herd was held back the family grew and soon the first child born was a son named Jehu The following year they had a daughter Mary who was named after Mollie’s Mother, Zeke’s first wife. She was followed by a sister “Little Mollie” named after her mother three years later. This is how Mollie came to stay at home and build a ranch and family while Jacob drove cattle and was gone much of the time.

Times were not easy and being on her own was not what she had hoped for, but her father and the tribes mothers watched over her and her brood and one of the tribal midwives helped during births, her name was Granny Gitoe. Eventually Granny Gitoe or as the kids called her “Granny G’ moved in on her own homestead a mile down the river to the west, which this far east was not much more than a glorified creek. Granny “G” had been born from a mother who was Seminole and Cherokee and a Portuguese father whose family had came to Florida and eventually Ft. Myers as missionaries from Spanish-held Cuba. In Jacob’s absence the tribe took care of Mollie, but the young braves still took surplus cattle that they considered to be their cows anyways.
The children grew as weeds and Jehu champed at the bit growing up waiting for the day he and his father Jacob could ride together, which they did eventually and built quite a herd.

#Open House 11-1pm Satuday 8/2/14 76Bridge St #Winsted CT, stop by, heres a link to the homes info bit.ly/1rEFUIE #Affordable , #Realestate Nice Home

Peacemaker

Poesy plus Polemics

(originally posted here May 2013)

Colt Single Action Army Pistol
Photo from en.wikipedia.org

Forty-five caliber
Royal blued steel
Black walnut hatched grips
Fine balance and feel

Sat low on the hip
For gunfighting draw
Giving wild frontiers
Apparatus of law

Hard men in hard times
Lived and died by the gun
In violent romance
Of leather and sun

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