by Dallas Reese
the following is an excerpt from my forthcoming novel "Carolina Refuge, the Saga of Lt. Colonel James Steen," A novel of the American Revolution
SUMMER OF BLOOD
July 1, 1776, Spartan District, South Carolina
"Whoever sheds human blood,
by humans shall their blood be shed;
for in the image of God
has God made mankind."
"Massa, you got to git, the Cherokees is on the warpath, and they are a coming quick," the faithful servant, Andrew implored the family to get out now or face certain death.
Old John Richard Steen staggered while he gathered supplies and guns. Steen abruptly screamed to his wife Jane, grandchildren, nieces, and nephews to bring the horses and the wagon. Richard's son, Captain James Steen, was away gathering with the South Carolina militia in preparation for the defense of the backcountry. The captain's wife Eleanor had traveled with her baby son earlier to her father's house a few miles distant. She intended to complete some cloth weaving for covering for the new arrival. It was best Eleanor and the captain were both gone. Trouble was here.
"We must leave; we have not enough friends close by to defend ourselves. Steen exclaimed.
"But where will we go, Richard?
"We'll leave that to fate; for now, we must run."
Outside the neatly sewn log cabin, Thomas Steen hurried his brother Richard Jr. and sister Mary into one of the family's covered wagons. It was of rudimentary construction but sufficed to transport the large Steen family from Pennsylvania to upstate South Carolina only 20 years earlier. Thomas frantically called for his sister Sarah and brothers James Jr, William, and Elias. Thomas panicked when he heard crackling branches and horses neighing in the distance. He prayed his brothers and sister were safe.
Richard and Jane ran from the house to the wagon and screamed to Thomas to get the siblings. Thomas cried, "I don't know where they are." Richard helped Jane climb up the wagon and yelled at Thomas; we must get away; we'll return. You know your brothers will keep them safe. So Richard, Jane, Thomas, and Mary took off along the back trail beside Thicketty Creek. All prayed aloud the other children were safe somewhere ahead or behind.
Across the valley, an Indian Trader threw open the door to the home of William Bogan, yelling, "the Cherokees are on the warpath, and they mean to kill all you. So make good your escape now if you want your life." The Bogan family were the Steen family's closest friends in this wild frontier; now, their lives were in mortal danger. William Bogan's thoughts immediately turned to his daughter Eleanor, her children, and her husband, James. "I must get to them."
The distance across the valley was more than two miles, but if he mounted immediately, he could make it in minutes. So Bogan grabbed a hatchet, some flints, and gunpowder and ran to the barn like the young man he wasn't. He mounted his stallion and flew off toward the Steen place, worried he might be too late.
Little Sarah Steen crouched as low as her little body would allow. The thick underbrush scratched her face as she tried to stifle cries of anguish. Her oldest brother William begged her to remain quiet and calm as he tried to comfort her. They could see their brothers running frantically from their perch in the bushes to join them.
Suddenly out of nowhere, a hatchet pierced the thick summer air and landed with the force of a hammer on the back of the head of little three-year-old Elias Steen. James Jr. stumbled at the impact and squalled in terror as Elias fell from his arms. The hatchet landed with deadly aim, and blood and brains sprawled across the ground. Elias Steen died instantly. James put his brother down, drew his father's short land Brown Bess musket from his back, and aimed at the whooping Cherokee Indian running towards them like a wild Appaloosa. He fired with uncanny accuracy, squarely connecting with the Indian's head just above the nose. The ball & buckshot did their work efficiently. The Indian's head bobbed like a cattail in the wind as he dropped like a rock. James reloaded his rifle in 30 seconds, strapped it on his back, then stared at his lifeless brother, with the hatchet still firmly in the back of little Elias' head. James cried as he looked into Elias' dull blue eyes, then abruptly picked him up and cradled him, taking care not to touch the hatchet. He ushered his sister Sarah & brother William to join them as they dashed away from the thick underbrush and through a stand of pines.
The fork of Thicketty river was close by, and if the three of them could live long enough to get there, James Jr. knew their escape plan; he had a wooden canoe anchored on the banks. The whoops and yells of the approaching Cherokee Indian party grew louder as the children ran as fast as their wiry thin legs would carry them. James strained under the weight of his little brother's body. He loved him fiercely and would not let exhaustion stop him.
Years of running thru the hills of the backcountry paid off for the children, as their stamina and strength were equal to the approaching Indians. But it had to be. It was a run for life.
James Jr. urged Sarah & William to run faster as Spanish Moss whipped in every direction hanging from Oaks between them and the river. James was not only worried about his siblings now, but his thoughts raced as fast as he ran, wondering where his grandparents and other brother and sister were and if they had escaped. In the melee and furor to get away, he had lost track of everyone except William, Sarah, and Elias. And now Elias was gone, and these Indians had no idea what they had started.
A torrent of emotions swirled inside James Jr, then an eerie calm. He knew what his father would do. The Indians believed in blood, life for life, and death for death. As soon as Captain James Steen Sr. got word of this, he would give them a taste of their mantra, albeit a step further. The entire nation would pay.
James Jr., on this run for his life, decided he would help. He repeated to himself, "do unto others as they do unto you ."His dead brother's lifeless body withered under his arms, and he yelled, "I'll keep killing them until I can kill no more." Thoughts of revenge burned like a raging fire inside of young James Steen Jr.
The river current was swift. James Jr. felt relief as the little boat moved further away from his home. He knew the Indians would not catch them before they reached the safety of the larger Broad River and could get downstream to Union, where relatives lived. As James steered the boat, he heard the soft whimper of his sister as she held Elias in her arms. Blood was everywhere. Poor Elias never stood a chance. Sarah was too young to know death. So unfair. But James had a bit of solace. At least they didn't get his scalp. James decided they would bury Elias near the home of his uncle William in Union. It would be acceptable to his father and mother, and he knew Uncle William's family would watch over the grave.
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