GRACIE’S STORY

CHAPTER 1

Dear Diary,

M Y NAME IS Grace Elizabeth Peyton. My daddy is R. V. (more about that later) Peyton. My momma is Mary Faye Spaulding Peyton. My brother is Robert Joseph Peyton. We call him Bobby Joe. He thought he was smarter than I am just because he’s older. But I don’t do the dumb things he sometimes does. They call me Gracie, and this is my story.

I got out of bed and ran down the stairs. Fortunately, the stairs went into the kitchen. Momma would already have biscuits in the oven, sausage in the skillet, and be waiting for my daddy and Bobby Joe to come in before cooking the eggs. They would be at the barn milking Goldie, the cow, and bringing in the eggs. I wanted to be ready when Daddy brought in the milk. He would pour it into a big bowl so the cream could come to the top. I could hardly wait. When the cream came to the top of the milk, Momma would pour it into the butter churn. Then, the fun would begin. I would pull the butter paddle up and down until butter would come.

Then I knew there would be buttermilk biscuits with butter. Daddy always wanted a big glass of buttermilk after it had cooled in the cellar. Momma would make cottage cheese and cheese. Our days were never boring.

Momma had let me sleep late that morning because I was up late last night helping her with the ironing. The flatirons had to be heated on the stove. They were heavy and made Momma’s arms tired after ironing only one of Daddy’s cotton shirts. She had sprinkled the clothes yesterday morning and had let them season before she ironed after supper. I helped her by holding Daddy’s shirts and the bed sheets on the ironing board that Daddy had made for her. She always washed on Fridays.

We had a big snow on Thursday. The snow was too deep for Momma to go to the clothesline to hang out the wash, so she had to hang them in the kitchen. They froze to the clothesline in the winter anyway. One time, Daddy’s long underwear froze to the clothesline, and she stood them up behind the kitchen stove to thaw.

She closed the kitchen door to make it warmer so the clothes would dry faster. She put ropes on nails that my daddy had driven in the logs. The ropes went from one side of the kitchen to the other. She had three lines plus the wash and rinse tubs. The kitchen would be so steamy you could hardly see, but it was warm.

On washdays, Momma would put a big pot of soup on the potbelly stove in the bedroom because she would have the cooking stove heating wash water. The kitchen was the biggest room in the cabin. Daddy and some other men started cutting the logs when we came from Virginia in the early spring. The snow had just melted when they started cutting trees. He had drawn the plans on my writing tablet and knew how many he needed.

Daddy and Momma had picked a spot in the valley with a hill behind the cabin. They said it would protect us from the wind. The cabin sat in a meadow with a creek running beside it. But first things first: A garden had to be plowed and planted.

But first, I need to start at the beginning of our Kentucky experience. Daddy always said I got the cart before the horse.

We had a hard time coming to Kentucky. Daddy started talking about leaving Virginia a year before we left. My grandparents were not happy about it. His parents tried to talk him out of it. My momma’s daddy thought it was a fool-hearted idea to even consider.

There were families leaving that Daddy and Momma knew. we watched them get covered wagons and supply them with the things they were told they would need on the trail and after they arrived there.

Of course, it was exciting for all us children. we didn’t have a clue as to where Kentucky was. To me, it sounded half way around the world. After we got on the trail, Momma said she knew it was.

We left Virginia with five families in late summer. We all met for a prayer meeting before we left. They knew there would be hardships along the way. They prayed for our safety.

Our wagon trail guide wanted to get to wherever we were going before bad weather. It didn’t happen, but we were safe.

For a long time, when I would lie down at night, I would cry. Daddy always built a fire for Momma to cook over. when the weather was good, we slept under the wagon at night. I would watch the flames dancing and hissing in the fire. Sometimes, the wind would blow through the trees, making groaning and moaning sounds.

When I closed my eyes, I would see my grandparents standing beside our wagon, crying. As we rode away, I could see them standing and waving until they were out of sight. If Momma hadn’t been holding me, I had thoughts of jumping off the wagon and running back to them. I knew we were leaving them, but to me, it was an adventure. We would be back soon. How little did I know what an adventure it would be and how long it would be before we saw them again. I realize now how hard it must have been for Momma to leave her parents and everything she had known and follow her adventurous husband to who knew where.

Daddy had outfitted our wagon with everything he could think of to make us as comfortable as possible and, most importantly, to keep Momma happy. That didn’t happen either.

Daddy figured we would be wherever we were going by Christmas.

That didn’t happen either.

We left Virginia the last week of May 1778. A Mr. Clark had led other wagon trains into Kentucky. He said he didn’t like to leave later than that. He had been in snow storms as early as November. But his main concern was rain.

There were a lot of small streams that would overflow their banks. He had been in thunderstorms, floods, and mud that had lasted for weeks. wagons couldn’t go across flooded creeks. wagons would get stuck in mud, wheels would come off, and the wagons would turn over. Also, we had to cross the Ohio River on a barge. The horses had to be blindfolded and led on the barge. we walked onto the barge.

I had heard Daddy say Momma had an adventurous spirit also. To me, the adventure was turning into a disaster waiting to happen. I told Daddy I felt safer walking with Pal, Bobby Joe’s dog. He assured me God would take care of us.

Daddy had a friend who liked to explore. He would be gone for months at a time. My grandparents said he was nothing but a troublemaker. Daddy liked to listen to his farfetched tales, they said. I guessed he was the one who started Daddy itching for adventure.

He had gone with a small group of men into Kentucky to explore. He had been to a place called Frank’s Ford on the Kentucky River. He said the town wasn’t much to talk about. There were only a few cabins, an inn, some warehouses, and a dock. It lay in the bend of the river and was mostly swamp. But down the river was a land flowing with milk and honey. Later, I remembered what he had said. Daddy did find honey, but we had taken Goldie, the milk cow.

There was rich river bottom land and meadows alongside a creek which ran into the river. And it was unclaimed land. All a person had to do was build a cabin and claim his homestead. That’s when Daddy said he began to itch to go. I was happy where I was. I didn’t want the itch.

Finally, he convinced Momma to go. He promised her if in two years we hadn’t settled in, we would come back to Virginia. I kept hearing the word frontier. I told my friends we were going to the frontier, wherever that was.

There were certain things Momma liked. Her stove was one, her bed another. She had heard stories about frontier living: log cabins, dirt floors, cooking in fireplaces, and sleeping on boards nailed to the walls, to name a few. Daddy said he could manage the stove in the wagon, but he would make beds after we got there. I had hoped mine wouldn’t fall off the wall.

It had taken Daddy a year to find that adventurous spirit in Momma. I kept looking for it but couldn’t find it. My granddaddy, her daddy, had said it was a figure-men-tation of his imagination, whatever that was. His little girl, my momma, was a wimp when it came to adventure. I think that was what did it. Momma told Daddy she would just show him how wimpy she was. She started packing. If she had a wimpy bone in her, by the time we reached Frank’s Ford, it was gone.

I think my daddy secretly thanked him for saying that. Daddy said once when Momma sets her mind to doing something; she would grit her teeth and get it done. I think she did a lot of teeth-gritting that first year. Everything that she had heard would happen, did.

Kentucky is beautiful in the fall. It had been very hot in August and some days in September. But when the weather cooled and the leaves began to change color, Momma’s mood began to get adventurous. Then it began to rain. And did it rain! She said she felt like a drowned rat. By that, Daddy knew he had better find dry quarters for us. It’s hard to cook on an open fire in the rain.

Our wagon train was a sorry sight. There were other women and children. The women were not happy campers. The men had to do something. The wagons were getting stuck in the mud, the animals were wet, and the children were crying. wet chickens sure do stink.

Momma said we would need chickens, so he tied the crate to the back of the wagon. He said we would need two pigs, so he tied that crate to the right side of the wagon. He tied a plow to the left side of the wagon to balance it. He tied a milk cow named Goldie to the back of the wagon. I sure was glad to know that we would have eggs, ham, and milk when we got there. And, of course, the horses, Ben and Buck, pulled the wagon. Pal, Bobby Joe’s dog, ran alongside the wagon. I held my cat, Twinkles, on my lap.

I sure hoped somebody in Kentucky could show Daddy how to milk a cow. And how did you get ham out of a pig? I knew chickens laid eggs, and all you had to do was pick them up. Food was a very important part of my life, and I liked knowing it was there when I was hungry. Also, how do you use a plow? we were city folks, remember.

Our scout leader said Fort Harrods was not far from where we had stopped for the night. He took two of the men, and they went to the fort to see if there was any lodging there for us.

They returned and said we were in luck. I knew it wasn’t luck, I had prayed and asked God to please let there be a house for us. Another miracle.

There were empty cabins. I hadn’t gotten used to calling houses cabins. Since President Washington had sent military aid to Kentucky to protect people from the hostile Indians, the people could leave the fort. They were staking out their homesteads.

When we arrived at the fort, it was pouring rain. Those cabins sure looked good. A roof over a dirt floor and an indoor fireplace sure could help a momma’s mood.

I may have been in the wilderness and living in a log cabin, but I knew Christmas could not be far off.

One day, there was a lot of activity in the fort. I could hear people talking outside our cabin. Daddy and Bobby Joe had gone out to milk Goldie and feed the animals. Somebody on the trail had shown Daddy how to milk. He taught Momma. She told him she learned for emergencies only. I’m sure glad she learned because we had a few, emergencies, that is. He said Bobby Joe needed to wait a year or two. I didn’t volunteer.

Momma and I liked to check the chickens. They were not laying, but we liked to watch them when they weren’t wet. The chicken novelty hadn’t worn off yet.

We were coming out of the shed/barn when we saw men come in the fort with a big cedar tree. we wondered where Daddy and Bobby Joe were. They were not with the animals. They had already been fed.

Bobby Joe and some of the fort boys were running around, getting in the way. The men had another tree we found out was for decorations for the cabins. I knew I was right; it was Christmastime. Bobby Joe said I was weird.

The men put the tree in the middle of the fort and told the women and children to get decorations ready, and they would decorate it.

The women decided to get together and popcorn and string the popped corn. The men had also brought in bushes with red berries on them. we strung them. We made angel decorations out of straw. we also made popcorn balls. Everybody added something to the tree: ribbons, corn shuck dolls, and even a bird nest. It was a lot of fun.

A preacher and his family were in our wagon train. They stayed at the fort, and the wagon train went on. He said we needed to celebrate Christmas. He and his wife began planning. One of the men built a manger and put straw in it. They asked people if they would put on a manger scene.

On Christmas Eve, we all gathered in front of the Christmas tree.

Someone had put candles on it.

There was the manger with Mary, Joseph, shepherds, and wise men. Someone had tied a cow close by. we sang songs. Daddy and some others had guitars and fiddles. The moon came up over the trees, and snow started falling. It was truly a Christmas night.

The preacher and his family left when another wagon train came by in the spring. We never heard from them again.

We hadn’t gotten to our homestead yet, so Santa Claus didn’t know where I was. But we did get presents from Momma and Daddy. I don’t remember the presents, but I do remember the fellowship we had that Christmas at the Harrods Fort.

We stayed there until after Christmas. Momma had gotten a little used to frontier living by then. I think she thought our cabin would be different from these. It eventually was, but not at first. Daddy said everything had to start from scratch, and scratch we did.

There were a lot of us city slickers, as the old-timers called us. They were used to teaching wilderness ways. Daddy said he also learned how to get hams out of pigs, but he would tell me that later.

Most of the wagon people, as I called us, already had their homestead destination picked out. Scouts had come back and told them where they thought the best place to settle would be. Daddy had already decided that we were going to Frank’s Ford. He was not going to live there but stake our homestead close to the Kentucky River in one of the flat meadows along the creek that ran into the river. He had heard it was land for the taking. So, we headed out. I had heard something about spring rains and asked God not to let us become drowned rats again.

When we arrived in Frank’s Ford, sure enough, all that was there were a few cabins, an inn, some warehouses, docks, and swamps. Momma didn’t look too happy. Daddy was smart; he didn’t stop.

We followed the trail around Frank’s Ford. It sat down in a valley with hills all around it. The river made a bend, and there were more cabins. There seemed to be more activity going on there.

The only way out was uphill. Daddy decided to go back to the inn. We had left Harrodsburg that morning, and the horses needed to rest. I thought to myself, they weren’t the only ones. Momma had put a quilt on my bench, but it was still hard. I could tell she was glad, too.

The inn had food. We had some kind of stew. I didn’t think about it until later and wondered what kind of meat was in it.

It was getting dark, so Daddy decided to stay. He had to take care of the animals first. The room was cold, but it had a potbelly stove in it. Momma had never made a fire in one. She filled it full of some of the wood that was in a box. Then she tried to light it with a match that was in the room. It wouldn’t start. She kept trying. She saw a can that had coal oil for the stove written on it. She was just ready to throw it on the wood when Daddy opened the door. He yelled, Stop! and grabbed the can. He said that would have blown up the whole inn.

He took most of the wood out of the stove. There were some small pieces of wood that he called kindling. I always knew my daddy was smart, but it seemed he got smarter while we were going to the frontier. He stuck the kindling in the can, put it under the wood, and lit it. It blazed and started burning. We were soon warm and went to bed.

The next morning, we had biscuits, gravy, and some meat before we left. When Momma asked what kind of good meat that was, she was told it was squirrel.

She looked shocked and stopped eating. She was told if she didn’t want her family to starve, she had better learn to cook wild animals and like them; advice well taken.

We left Frank’s Ford and headed north up the hill. we went up hills and down hills until we came to a valley. Daddy kept going until we reached the river again. We found out later that the river made a long bend.

German settlers had come and settled down the river from Frank’s Ford. There was a post office, two churches, three stores, and a Masonic lodge hall. It was a busy riverport called Polsgrove Landing.

We went back up the river to a beautiful long meadow beside a creek that ran into the river. This was going to be our new homestead.

After Daddy staked our cabin site, we went back down the trail and visited with the people there. I think Momma began to feel better, but we were a long way from them and Frank’s Ford. It seemed we were in the wilderness all by ourselves.

When Momma saw the stores, she began to perk up, as Daddy called it. And there were cabins with plank floors, stoves, and beds. It was a busy port with goods going out and coming in.

Most of them had come down the Kentucky River before the wagons had roads to travel on, if you could have called them roads. They were enlarged buffalo trails.

We had fort hopped along the trail. Sometimes, our wagons would get stuck in the mud, and we would have to sit it out. Not only did the wagons have to dry out, but the mommas did, too. We did a lot of drying out before we reached our land flowing with milk and honey.

Before we left Frank’s Ford Inn, Daddy had made arrangements with the innkeepers for us to stay there at night until we built our cabin. We would eat breakfast and supper there.

There was a shed/barn behind the inn. The innkeeper said Daddy could leave the cattle there until he had a place to put them. He milked Goldie every morning and night. He said they were glad to get the milk. They didn’t have a cow, but Granny K did have a butter churn. What’s a butter churn? I soon found out. I told Daddy Momma needed one of those things. That was one of the first things he bought at Polsgrove Landing when they got our cabin built. I decided maybe wilderness life wouldn’t be so bad.

There were nests for the chickens and even a pig pen. The chickens weren’t laying, but they had settled down now that they had nests. Daddy put some dried weeds in their nests. He said they were happy birds now. Bobby Joe fed and watered all of them every morning and night.

He said Momma had been a trooper so far, but he thought it best not to put her back in the wagon bed now that she had been in a real bed again. You’re going to find out how smart my daddy is.

I think Daddy saw how our way of living was going to drastically change. Momma had no idea how to cook wild things. She needed to learn, and the inn was the place to learn.

The innkeeper’s wife was the cook. She and Momma hit it off when we first arrived. She said, The poor thing, I know what she has been through. She took her under her wing and taught her how to cook those wild things. I have loved her dearly for that. I had worried about my food. I wasn’t sure either about eating wild things.

I had never eaten a rabbit or squirrel but discovered they were delicious with biscuits and gravy.

Cooking had been a challenge for Momma ever since we started on this expedition, as she called it. I didn’t know what that meant when we left Virginia, but I soon found out.

She cooked on rock pits, as she called them. She had her coffeepot, two iron skillets, and a pan.

When we were traveling, Daddy would build one, and she had to put each one on at a time. Soon, she learned to put the coffeepot on first. It sure smelled good early in the morning. They would drink their coffee while the hoecakes were cooking.

Bobby Joe and I drink milk. Daddy would milk Goldie, and the milk would be warm. We soon got used to it.

After we got to our permanent home, Daddy built her a tall rock pit so she could stand up and cook. It was long and narrow, so she could put the coffeepot, the pan, and one skillet on at the same time. She had kept her cooking aids, sugar, salt, flour, baking powder and soda, and vanilla where she could get to it when she needed it. She also had meal so she could make hoecakes. It’s surprising how little things could make her so happy. Daddy said that was his job: keeping her happy. It also made us happier when she was happy. She was happy most of the time. Some of the things Bobby Joe did made her unhappy.

Granny K, that’s what I called the innkeeper’s wife, helped her a lot. God always sent us angels when we needed them. Momma sure needed one.

While we were at Polsgrove Landing, Daddy told Mr. Polsgrove that he would start cutting trees for our cabin.

Mr. Polsgrove could spot a city slicker a mile away, he told us later. He knew those people needed help. And help us, they did. I think that is why Daddy and Momma helped newcomers when they first came.

Daddy told him we were staying at Frank’s Ford Inn at night. He was going to our homestead and start cutting trees the next day. Mr. Polsgrove told him it was a slow time for them. They had built all the buildings they needed for now. He was going to send some men up the next morning to start cutting trees. He said Daddy needed one hundred sixty trees for the size cabin he wanted to build. Momma was flabbergasted. Daddy said he figured it would take that many. He had been leery about being able to cut that many that winter. Mr. Polsgrove said it was impossible for one man.

They did come the next morning. Some would cut trees, some drug them down the hills, and others peeled the bark off. They had to be notched and cut into boards for the floors.

They worked every day but Sunday. Daddy’s hands got blisters on them, and Momma put her herb ointment on them every night. Eventually, they got tough as shoe leather, as he called them. He no longer had city-slicker hands. I was proud of him.

All this time, Momma, Bobby Joe, and I were at the inn. Daddy said Bobby Joe would just be in the way, so he left him there to get in my way. While we were there, Granny K and Momma did the cooking. Papaw K took Bobby Joe with him hunting for rabbits and squirrels. I churned butter.

When he came back with them, he gave them to some trappers to skin and dress. I wondered how they dressed animals. Later, I found out and what they did with the fur.

I always enjoyed eating, but now I look forward to meal times. Granny K had a big garden at the inn to feed travelers. It kept them busy putting food on the table, they said.

Momma got a lot of experience helping her cook. She could cook rabbit and squirrel with the best of them, Granny K would say. Papaw K said as long as they cooked them, he would supply them.

Bobby Joe learned a lot, too. I was grateful to Papaw K for keeping him with him. There was a blacksmith at Frank’s Ford, and Bobby Joe liked to watch him work. Sometimes, Momma would let me go watch him if Papaw K was going.

CHAPTER 2

I T WAS WINTERTIME, and there was a lot of snow on the ground. No wagon trains came through, but there were explorers and trappers that stopped in. They walked everywhere they went. They didn’t ride horses that needed shoeing. Mr. Blacksmith, that’s what I called him, said he could get caught up on making horseshoes.

Bobby Joe and I played in the snow a lot. There were no other children there at that time. There were some children at Leestown, but it was too far for us to go. They never came to Frank’s Ford while we were there.

We settled into a schedule. Daddy left every morning and came back every night. Momma and Granny K fixed lunch for all the men. They had to cook it the day before and pack it so it would be ready for him early the next morning. It kept Papaw K and Bobby Joe busy bringing in meat. Some days, they would fish in the river. It would freeze over, and they had to cut holes in the ice to fish. Most of the time, they brought in rabbits and squirrels. They had potatoes, squash, onions, pumpkins, and apples stored in their storage room in the back of the inn. Granny K didn’t have time to can food from her garden. She had herbs growing in the kitchen. She also had sugar, flour, and meal stored. They had a cat that stayed around to keep the mice away. Twinkles stayed in there a lot. The next summer, Momma canned green beans, tomatoes, and corn out of our garden and took them to her during the winter.

Sometimes, the snow would be so deep Daddy would have to ride one of the horses because he couldn’t get the wagon through the snow.

The men had built a small shed to keep their tools out of the weather when they were gone at night. They went back to Polsgrove Landing. Daddy would whittle pegs out of small limbs at night. He said they had to be put in the logs to hold them together.

They had agreed that if it snowed so many feet during the night, they would