Tales, Traditions and Romance of Border and Revolutionary Times

by Edward Sylvester Ellis

The family of Taylor embraced himself, wife, and three children, while that of Sheits numbered but three—himself, wife, and one child. The few articles which the limited room in the wagon, and the hurried nature of their departure allowed them to remove, were a chest of drawers, which was a gift from the parents of Mrs. T., a feather bed, also a parental gift to Mrs. S., a brass kettle or two, some few culinary articles, and the axes and rifles of the men. These and their horses, and a stout farm wagon, were all they had saved, yet they were well content to come off with their lives, and trudged along, satisfied if they could but reach a haven of safety from the barbarities which had been inflicted upon their less fortunate neighbors and friends.

The greater portion of their way lay through the forest, where every sound to their affrighted ears gave token of an enemy lurking in their path, and the rustling of a leaf, or the sighing wind, awoke their fears, and called up their latent courage. This had been passed, however, in safety, and they had reached the brow of the hill from whence they had a view of the beautiful valley below, where they hoped to find a haven of rest. Pausing for a moment to admire the scene which opened before them, they gave vent to their feelings in eulogies upon the lovely landscape, and words of encouragement to their wives and children. Alas, as they spoke, the deadly rifle of a concealed foe was leveled full at their breasts, and the savage red-skin was thirsting for their blood, within a few feet of them. Hidden by the thick underbrush which grew up by the side of the road, five tawny warriors, painted and bedecked with their war feathers, lay crouching like wild beasts, ready to spring upon their prey. Just as they started to resume their way, and descend the hill toward the settlement, the crack of two rifles, the whizzing of two leaden messengers, and the fall of their husbands, alarmed the women and widowed them at the same instant. The aim had been sure, and both the men fell without a groan, pierced through the heart with a bullet from an unerring rifle. Quick as the flash from a summer cloud were all their hopes of safety and future happiness blasted, stricken to the earth with the fall of their husbands. No cry escaped the now bereaved women. Their feelings were too deep for utterance, nor was there any time for grief or repining. Left in an instant self-dependent, they looked around for the foe and for means of defense. Nothing was within reach but the axes of their husbands; these they seized, awaiting the onset of the savages. They had not long to wait. Pushing aside the foliage, the five warriors sprang, with a grunt of satisfaction, from the thicket into the road, and made for the wagon to secure their prisoners. The first who came up seized the son of Mrs. Taylor, and endeavored to drag him from the wagon, but the little fellow resisted manfully, looking, meanwhile, up into his mother's face, as if to implore protection at her hands. The appeal was not lost upon her. Seizing, with both hands, the axe of her husband, and swinging it around her head, she brought it down, with all the vengeful force of her arm, upon the shoulder of the Indian, inflicting a wound which sent him off howling with pain. Turning to another, she served him in like manner, while Mrs. Sheits had sent a third back to his lair with a severe blow across the hand which severed all his fingers. The other two were wise enough to keep without the reach of their blows, but endeavored to intimidate them by terrific yells and brandished tomahawks. Nothing daunted, however, the heroic women maintained their attitude of defense, until wearied of their efforts, and, fearing the approach of relief from the garrison of the fort, the two unwounded Indians rushed into the thicket for their rifles, to end the conflict. Taking advantage of this opportunity, the women started the horses, and the red-skins, not daring to pursue them, they were permitted to reach the fort in safety, from which a party set out to bring in the dead and scalped bodies of their husbands.

Stories of such danger and fortitude as this can be but dimly realized by the women of to-day. Yet the annals of our early history are all too painfully darkened by such records; and it is well for the heroes of the prosperous present to know through what hardships this rich inheritance was secured to them. Emigration did not stop in Virginia any more than it had rested in Pennsylvania:

"Westward to the star of empire takes its way;"

and the glorious Valley of the Mississippi won forward the daring steps of the pioneers. It is known how long and terrible was the contest by which Kentucky was wrested, inch by inch, from her ancient owners, until her lovely soil, baptized in sorrow, received the name of the "dark and bloody ground." Here, as always where there is a chance for her development, and she is permitted to play her free part by the side of man, woman did her share of the onerous work, and had her share of the perils. One of the most terrible of the family histories of that period is the following, of the household of a widow, by the name of Shanks, full particulars of which are given in the history of Kentucky.

On the night of the 10th of April, 1787, the house of Mrs. Shanks, on Cooper's Run, in Bourbon County, was attacked by Indians. This house, which was a double cabin, consisting of two rooms, with an open way between, contained, at the time the assault was made, besides the widow herself, a widowed daughter, three other daughters, a young girl, and two sons of adult age. Although the hour was near midnight, one of the young men still remained up, and in the opposite room a sister was busily engaged at the loom.

An hour before, while they were yet unconscious of the actual presence of Indians, the suspicions of the son was aroused by the cry of owls, hooting to each other in the adjoining wood, in a rather unusual manner, and by the terror and excitement of the horses, who were enclosed, as customary, in a pound near the house.

Several times the young man was on the point of awaking his brother, but as often refrained, through fear of being ridiculed for his timidity. At length hasty steps were heard without, and then came several sharp knocks at the door, accompanied by the usual question of the wayfarer, "Who keeps this house?" spoken in very good English.

He hastily advanced to withdraw the bolt which secured the door, supposing the new comer to be some benighted settler, when his mother, whose greater experience had probably detected the Indian accent, instantly sprang out of bed, and warned her son that the men outside were savages.

The other son being by this time aroused, the two young men, seizing their rifles, which were always charged, prepared to repel the enemy. Conscious that their true character was discovered, the Indians now strove to break in the door; but a single shot from the loop-hole compelled them to shift their point of attack, when, unfortunately, they discovered the door of the other cabin, which contained the three daughters.