Western Pennsylvania 1759
Could peace finally be at hand? Steen had spent the better part of the time as an adult engaged in relentless battle against people he was tired of fighting. The French and Indian War was turmoil from the start. Steen was barely a kid, still in his teens, when war broke out. The Cherokee and Creek Indians had been at each other’s throats for 40 years and they weren't friendly to the encroaching settlers like the Steen family. The Indians felt the white settlers had been stealing their hunting lands and so had been attacking settlers off and on for years because of real or perceived offenses. In addition, as was the case with so many problems, violence begat violence. It became a cycle of unending discord. The Bible story of Hosea had predicted the present turmoil. Those who sow the wind, reap the whirlwind. But, the winds of violence had been swirling in North America long before Steen and his family had arrived. Nearly every family on the wilderness frontier was alert and ready at a moment's notice for a fight. Not because they wanted to fight but because they had to fight to defend themselves and stay alive. Disease and starvation were bad enough, but being killed because of being on the very land that God himself and not humans truly owned was worse. It was as if no one on earth truly understood the fact that we are only here for a little while. No one really owns the land. We just rent it until we return to dust. However, the fight over land had been one that had raged since God created Adam and Eve. Sin had entered into the picture and ruined everything for every race and every nation. In fact, Steen thought there would only be one race with one language from the one true God if not for the Tower of Babel.
Steen knew that God himself had divided humans so they would constantly war with each other. The price for sin. Moreover, because of blatant rebellion against God and his commands to love one another, it would never stop. What was one to do? A troublesome dichotomy always presented itself. Damned if you do and damned if you don’t. How could you stop people from killing for the sake of greed or want of power over others? Steen knew the human race would never have the answers and he himself would not really know anything until he met his maker. Therefore, in the here and now, he taught his children rifle skills from a very young age, in order to help provide food and protection for their families. And if the killing was needed then so be it. One must live and in order to do that, sometimes one must kill, whether it is right or wrong will be for God to decide.
Steen’s family had been in Pennsylvania since 1740, having landed there after braving the fierce Atlantic journey from the north of Ireland to Philadelphia. By 1754, the family had finally gained a foothold in Pennsylvania and acquired a farm. However, by the summer of 1755, the threat from Indians was everywhere. The family never felt safe. The Shawnee were encroaching on all the families of the area. Combined with the French troops, who threatened from the Monongahela river east to the Susquehanna near the Steen home, a tinderbox of violence appeared about to explode. Steen’s father John Richard Steen had already faced the perils of the untamed Atlantic Ocean when he brought his family from Ireland to America in 1740. John Steen was a born gypsy, having moved from his Scottish home when but only a child when his family moved south from Scotland to Ireland to find a better life. John Steen knew he had not come this far to a new country to lose what he had gained. He was wary of the violence and knew he could not protect his family properly. So without so much as a wit of hesitation, the elder Steen implored to his wife and children the urgency upon which they must now act. The family needed to take the wagon road south. Their safety and future depended on it. The elder Steen presumed the Catawba and Cherokee were friendly to colonists in South Carolina and he was determined to bring his family to an area still mostly uninhabited by Europeans. Land as wild as a mustang was available and for the taking. And John Steen determined he would find a way to communicate and live in peace with the southern Indians.
However, before the elder Steen could steel the family together for the move tragedy struck. Indians, while on a hunting expedition killed John Steen. His wife knew there was but one thing to do. Take the family and get to South Carolina where there would be peace and prosperity gained from Divine Providence. Therefore, the family uprooted from Pennsylvania and came to Union District South Carolina in 1755. James Steen himself did not think the adventure of moving south with his mother and family would involve peril that would nearly take his life before it really began. But then again Steen had never faced the prospect of having to take another human life. He was only 20 years old when the Indian war began. Granted he was an expert sharpshooter and seasoned hunter, he still had no taste for killing anything other than what he needed to eat and survive. To Steen, the killing of animals was far different from that of humans. God had given man dominion over all animals and they provided a source of food. Humans were created in the image of God and were to be respected, honored, and loved. Reluctantly, Steen went to fight, and fight he did. He faced death square in the eye for six long years. His days were fraught with anxiety as he constantly looked over his shoulder, never knowing if the end would come on a particular day. The fact that Steen survived the perils of the French and Indian war at all was a miracle. Steen carried no physical scars, whether because of sheer luck or providence, he believed the latter because through it all his faith in God had not faltered. However, the emotional scars Steen carried were deeper still. By the time the French and Indian war was over Steen had gone from innocent boy to ruthless man. He had taken many lives and those actions did not coincide well with the dogma his father had rooted in him. Steen knew in his mind that he had done what he had to do to survive, but it wasn’t right. To take another human life was an unforgivable sin. Between 1756 and 1763, Steen had more narrow escapes than he would care to recall. A long seven years of kill or be killed. He had been on the run and worried about his own parents, his brothers, and sisters, and whether Indians would burn their homes to the ground. Steen thought most of the Indians were as wild as the backcountry was in its natural state. What he did not realize is they thought the same of him. The lack of cultural understanding was a double-edged sword that would not and could not be defeated anytime soon. By the time Steen’s family had settled in Upstate South Carolina the attacks were still happening, just as they had in Pennsylvania. It was as if there was no escape, no safety. Moreover, both sides, Indians and former Europeans wanted to live their lives in peace. However, there was only so much land, and all wanted it. A fight over land was really a fight over survival and the British colonies were rapidly expanding westward. The raging conflict would not subside without tragedy. It was inevitable. Steen just wished there was a different way. But sadly blood runs wild when misunderstanding lingers. In fact, many of the families that had made a home on the Broad Creek in upper South Carolina had moved further south to Camden to escape the constant barrage of Indian attacks. Steen’s friend Nathaniel Jeffries asked Steen to help watch his home while Jeffries removed to Camden to keep his new wife safe until she could bear a son. In addition, Jeffries wanted to build a new house near Thicketty Creek that would provide more natural defense for the soon-to-be-growing family. For Steen this was an easy decision, Jeffries had married Steen’s younger sister Sarah in 1758. Sarah and James Steen had grown up as close as hands and feet in Chester County, PA. James’ one goal was to protect his sister from the turmoil the family faced from constant attacks. On a regular basis, Steen's steely resolve, uncompromising bravery and sheer innocence of youth helped him protect Sarah from facing the pervasive drums of war. Steen and his family found what they thought would be a relatively safe space deep in the backcountry of Upper South Carolina in a place the Indians called Thicketty. It got the name for good reason. The pines, underbrush, and forest were thick as molasses. Clearing the land to build a farm would take a massive effort. Steen worked with his brothers for nearly a year to cut out dense undergrowth and build fortifications to protect the property from Indian attacks. James Steen, unlike his father never was trusting enough to believe they wouldn't be attacked. He had seen too much in the French and Indian war to believe otherwise. By the time spring arrived, Steen and his brothers were planting corn, tobacco, and other crops to provide for their family. The weight of much of the work fell upon Steen’s mother and sisters while Steen and his brothers fought the still-raging French and Indian War. It was a battle of time to get back to work the farm and then continue to assist the army in efforts to stop the war at hand. Steen would leave to rejoin the Army and be gone for months at a time and then return south to assist. Finally, early in 1760, a treaty was signed between the French, British, and hostilities ceased. Steen was elated at the prospect of peace and a new life ahead. Now, several months later the spring broke like new dawn, and thoughts of violence were memories of a past Steen wanted so desperately to leave behind.
Spring 1760-Union District, South Carolina
James Steen rode briskly through a meadow and approached a clearing where the sound of splashing water echoed. As Steen approached, he caught a glimpse of Eleanor Bogan, wading in the edge of the Broad River dunking clothes into it. Steen wondered why he had never seen her here before. He had brought his horse to this part of the Broad at least ten times in the past year and this beauty had never appeared until now. Could she be a mirage? Bogan was wading in the shallow, shaded by a Black Willow tree, seemingly unnoticed, but certainly not to Steen. It was an unseasonably hot day for early spring. Not expecting a soul to walk or ride within a mile of where she sat, Eleanor had loosened the clasp of her dress while she worked. Even from a distance, Steen could plainly make out the most feminine of forms through the cotton dress. As Steen approached, he could see the beauty of her supple soft features and flowing black hair. It was enough to intoxicate a sober man who had never tasted a drink of beauty such as this. Steen had a visceral vision. At once enthralling and entangling, he could not look away. Steen dismounted his horse and offered an unreturned pleasantry. Eleanor barely noticed him, probably thinking him just another farmer stopping at the river to water his horse. Startled by Steen’s fast approach the honorable Miss Bogan quickly reclosed her dress. Steen’s stealthy life as a hunter made him hard to hear when he approached. He could not take his eyes away from Eleanor. She was as fresh and intriguing physically as this spring day. Steen, taken aback by Eleanor Bogan’s standoffishness, recollected himself for another go. He considered himself a striking man worthy of notice by all. At six foot one and 170 pounds he was bigger, stronger and more imposing that most every farmer in Union District. In fact one of the only people he had ever met who approached his size & stature was the esteemed farmer from Virginia who commanded his division in the French and Indian War, General George Washington. In this moment, standing before Steen was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. It had been less than a year onward from the French and Indian battles and through the haze of this South Carolina May Day under the bright Carolina blue, Steen was capable of seeing that love could exist for him again. If only in the exquisite beauty of the sight now before his eyes. Steen felt something deep down that made him calmer than the ocean in the eye of a Hurricane. Maybe it was not just Eleanor’s beauty. Steen was enjoying the relative stability afforded by a farm, livestock and a life of his own. However, Steen’s feeling at this particular moment was something else entirely. In fact, Steen considered his current situation to be as close to heaven as he would get until he parted this life and returned to dust. He had never seen a sight more beautiful than this woman. If only she would only notice him. As Steen’s thoughts raced, he imagined the words of his father, “If you ever find yourself put off by someone, shut yourself up for a half hour and you’ll instantly be cured”. Steen put the thought away, because his gentle approach had not turned Bogan away. Her inattention to matters of attraction seemed to be the real reason. Eleanor Bogan did not desire attention and made no attempt to notice any other presence. Steen was perplexed because he could not command the girl’s attention no matter what he tried. Everything in Steen’s demeanor and appearance should have aroused Eleanor Bogan’s sympathies. Maybe the present past was too evident in the lines on Steen’s face. Regardless, Steen had no appearance of arrogance. If attractiveness, judged by demeanor and appearance alone, was the measure of a man, then Steen assured success. Physically Steen struck an impressive figure. His piercing green eyes and tall frame silently demanded respect and deemed him noble and agreeable. Steen’s warmth and generosity endeared him to all in the Union District. He could at once be charming, emotional, tender and completely enveloped in listening and learning when the situation required. Conversely, he could be as hard and cold as his Scotch Presbyterian roots would allow. It was a cross to bear. However, this was a time for tenderness. Above all else, Steen’s unfailing senses would be needed. Steen at this moment needed to muster up the wit he duly possessed and a modicum of courage to make another approach. Destiny would not allow another outcome.
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