Chapter 5: Fair Trade

 

     "If it isn't old Benny Reed and his best girl," greets a dirt-covered militia officer standing beside the brown-leafed Tradail Oak as sunlight beams over the eastern ridge in the cool October morning. 

His white quarter horse along with two mules are lapping from the nearby log trough.

"Aren't we the merry-andrew," laughs Benny right back, his black and tan trotting beside the wheelbarrow carrying two oak casks. 

"Aye, we surprised Ferguson on King's Mountain and routed the whole lot."

"Whewee, Colonel Preston, you done good. As for my best girl, these are the last of the kegs and then Lottie and I are heading over the hill to find her."

"Well young man, you're one barrel shy of that score you promised, but all my silver went to provisioning the Fincastle volunteers and they're mighty thirsty after that battle." 

     The Battle of Kings Mountain was a surprise victory for a cobbled group of about eight-hundred patriot militiamen against a force of over a thousand redcoats and loyalist militia. British Major Patrick Ferguson and his army were on their way to join a large force under General Cornwallis in preparation for an invasion of North Carolina. After days of marching, Ferguson decided to camp for a few nights on the largest of the foothills at the border with South Carolina. His defensive site on the high ground became a corral as the overmountain men surrounded the hill at dawn. 

     After an hour of thrusts up the wooded hillsides and bayonet parries from above, the mountain was taken and Ferguson killed along with three-hundred of his soldiers. The rest were marched north to patriot strongholds in Virginia. It was the first major victory for the colonists in the south, akin to Washington's taking of Trenton in the north, and it contributed to a British retreat from the interior. 

 

    

     "Sorry Colonel," Benny stammers. "A British officer sent his man and two redcoats for that missing keg." 

"Now that's a gift horse if I ever saw one," Preston retorts. "Tarleton's Raiders never showed to back up Ferguson. I might owe you more than a few pounds."

"How's about one of them mules for my trip over the ridge?"

"I need them both for the wagon team. What say you take my old stallion and I vouch for your aid in that battle?"

"Much obliged, but that's more than I'm owed for a run of whiskey."

"Listen young man, Tarleton getting that lost barrel may have helped to turn the tide. Spies sent word that Cornwallis has left Charlotte and is on the road back to Charleston." 

"Well taking sides is no good for business, but being on your list might come in handy if'n your Whigs manage to win." 

"Indeed, a war pension would get you the acreage for a copper forge and a corn field to boot. My family needs hard-working settlers on our land in Kentucky." 

"Mama always told me not to count my chickens before they hatch, but at least that white horse is a pretty fair rooster."

"Ha, it's settled then," Preston concludes, clapping Benny on the back. "One more word to the wise: On the other side of Clinch Mountain the creeks run east to the New River, north to the Big Sandy, and west to the Licking River. There are settlers on those first two drainages, but Virginia's claim is not yet recognized by the Indians to the west."