Daughter of Shiloh. Ilene Shepard Smiddy

He figured the Indians had stolen her.

      Stealing horses and women was one of the ways an Indian brave proved himself a warrior. David, and Wade joined the others to help look for the mare.

      The field had not yet been laid by for planting. Dried cane stalks covered it; leaning in thick bunches, which made it difficult to see the ground. The road leading to the Furnace wound across the field and through a thick forest for several miles.

      They found the mare grazing on tender blades of grass in a stand of oak and pine at the edge of the field. The men spread out, herding the mare back to the fort. They nearly stumbled over the body of a man sprawled on the ground.

      David, remembering a similar experience in battle, knew seconds wasted looking at a dead body could get you killed, shouted “Run for cover.”

      All the men except Wade took off through the dried cane, running for the big gate. He stopped long enough to identify the body as being that of Reynolds. “Looks like the shot entered his left shoulder and came out his right breast. Never knew what hit him.” Wade muttered, sweeping the field and timberline with his gaze, checking for any sign of movement.

      He heard the racket the others were making in the dried cane. Leaving the body lay for now, he followed them back to the fort.

      Back inside the station they learned a soldier from the Furnace had arrived. He was looking for Reynolds, who had taken a musket and started out for Morgan’s on Sunday morning. When he did not return, Indian trouble was suspected, as some Indians had been seen lurking near the Furnace Road. The soldier thought he may have seen one on his ride over. The men decided to stay armed and on guard.

      John Pleak, Wade’s brother-in-law, announced he was going to move his family back to Clark. He just could not abide any more episodes with Indians.

      All was quiet, however, until early August. Robert Craig and Bill Arthur were on a hunt when a party of braves suddenly rose up out of some underbrush and fired on them. No one was hurt, and there were no more incidents involving Indians at Morgan’s Station until April 1, 1793.

       CHAPTER III

       April 1, 1793—The Raid on Morgan’s Station

      “Clarinda, see who’s at the door, child,” Martha scolded, thinking her daughter was ignoring the knock.

      The truth was Clarinda vaguely heard her mother’s words as she knelt on the hearth. Her eyes were transfixed on the open fireplace. Lately, she had seen shadowy forms in the fire. Men, women, and children running for their lives. The apparition appeared only for an instant. At first, Clarinda thought she was dreaming. This time, she knew for sure that she was fully awake. She clearly saw terrified faces in the flames.

      Feeling her mother’s touch on her shoulder, Clarinda jumped with a start as though pierced by an arrow.

      “What’s wrong?” Martha asked, surprised at Clarinda’s sudden reaction.

      “Oh, Ma, I saw them again. The phantom pictures. They were just like the last time. People running as if the devil himself was chasing them.”

      Martha wiped her hands on her apron. “Girl, you’ve listened to too many of William’s and David’s yarns. See to the door.”

      The knock came once more. Clarinda opened the door to find Polly Baker standing on the stoop. The Bakers had moved into a cabin across the square last fall.

      “I’m sorry, Polly, do come in. Ma is baking bread. I guess I was lollygagging a bit.”

      “I gave it no mind,” Polly said, coming inside. “Please, won’t you walk over to Becraft’s cabin with me? The sun is shining for a change. Most of the men and boys are out planting corn. I don’t want to go alone.”

      “I’ll ask Ma,” Clarinda said, welcoming the chance to talk with Polly about yesterday’s church meeting. The vision in the fireplace slipped out of her mind while she chattered with her friend.

      Back in the winter, a preacher named Handsford and his followers started clearing land for a new settlement. A church house was under construction, and later on they hoped to build a school. It was only a short distance from Morgan’s Station. Settlers living all around the area were happy to have a man of God move nearby.

      The Allington’s singing service was a regular event at Morgan’s. Families from as far away as Peeled Oak came, but everyone looked forward to a time when they could attend a real church.

      At Ralph Morgan’s urging Handsford had agreed to preach for them, at the station, on Easter Sunday. This was to be the first preaching ever held in that vicinity.

      News of the upcoming service spread all around the region. More than a hundred people had come to hear the Easter message. It reminded Clarinda of the camp meetings back home in Virginia.

      The ladies prepared baskets of food and spread their bounty on the ground for all to share. Even soldiers from the Furnace rode over to take part in the festivities. After lunch they played music and games and the men held a shooting match.

      Clarinda and Polly admired the young men strolling about, handsome in their blue uniforms. However, when a soldier dared to look in their direction, they quickly turned away with a flurry of skirts and stifled giggles.

      The girls were both mature beyond their years, their slim bodies showing the promise of early womanhood. Polly was thirteen years old, and Clarinda twelve. The two spent many hours together and shared their most cherished secrets.

      Along about twilight a shy young soldier maneuvered his way to within speaking distance of Polly and Clarinda.

      “Howdy, my name’s Sam Dunn,” he said politely. “I’m with Captain Enoch Smith’s militia. Well, to tell the truth, he’s my uncle.”

      Clarinda remembered her manners, and introduced herself and Polly. “We live here at Morgan’s,” she told him. Hoping to keep the conversation going, she asked, “did you hear the preaching?”

      “Ain’t much for churchgoing,” replied Sam. “But it’s right pleasant to see so many folks visiting and having a good time. Makes me think of North Carolina where I come from. Don’t see it happening much around here.”

      “No, not yet, but you will soon.” Clarinda smiled, pleased to have a subject to discuss with him. “Since Kentucky gained statehood last year, more settlers are coming every week. We haven’t had any Indian trouble in over two years. My brother Jacob wants to start a school. He’s awful smart in book learning.”

      Polly, standing beside Clarinda, envied the way she was able to chat with the soldier. Clarinda felt at ease. Her brothers and their friends always included she and her sisters in their conversations. Since coming to Kentucky the Allington men had taught their sisters how to hunt, trap, shoot, and read trail signs.

      Clarinda even memorized the positions of the moon and stars in the night sky. If need be, she felt confident she would be able to find her way home in the dark. She knew too, that if she got lost, she could follow a stream or river until she reached a settlement. She constantly pestered her brothers and William with questions and was never backward around men.

      The girls were enjoying the attention of the young recruit when David Allington appeared. Draping a protective arm about Clarinda’s shoulders, he drawled, “Ma’s looking for you girls. I just sent Nancy and Sarah home. Better run along.” David gave his sister a stern look, then smiled at Sam.

      “How are you doing, soldier?”

      “Fine, sir, just making polite talk with the ladies, meaning no harm.”

      “It’s all right, son. Big brothers tend to get a mite heavy-handed.” David laughed, trying to put the soldier at ease. “What’s your name?”

      “Sam, Sam Dunn, at your service.”

      “Pleased