Chapter Six: Flower Blooms In Bristol/Chadwick Saves A Young Man

In mid-1811, about forty miles west of Bristol, near a smaller community called New Madrid, an earthquake hit, but the effects were felt when a catastrophic flood threatened to wipe Bristol off the face of the earth. For the first time ever, due to the earthquake, or so it was believed, the Mississippi River flowed backward and destroyed several smaller towns down to practically nothing. People in Bristol did their very best to fill burlap bags with dirt to block the river’s onslaught. People worked day and night, and Flower was one of them.

She would sew the burlap together as quickly as she could, doing as many as possible. She felt as if she couldn’t keep up with the demand.

But she did. When the flood finally receded, Bristol’s dirt streets were thickly muddied and covered with a good foot of water, but damage to homes and life especially were spared. No one lost their life.

There was one young man near her own age. He just happened to have the unfortunate luck to be visiting friends when the flood struck, but his looks, the way he carried himself, sent a shiver of joy (or was it apprehension?) through her being. Flower had never known love, only pain and fear she lived daily, but this—this was different. Whatever, this feeling called love had drawn her right to him like a moth to flame.

After the flood had dissipated, he, William Farragut, actually came to her house.

“I want to personally thank you for the extraordinary work you have done. Were it not for you, this town would have perished.”

“Why, thank you, William.”

“No, it is I who thank you, Flower. You have done us all a service that I am not sure could be repaid properly. But—I would like to invite you to be my guest at a friend’s home tomorrow evening for dinner and perhaps some dancing. You do dance?”

Flower laughed.

“It seems ages ago since I have, but I do remember how.”

“Good. Then it is settled. I shall arrive at five tomorrow afternoon. Dinner is at six.”

With that, William gently raised Flower’s right hand and kissed it. Then he was gone.

The rest of that day into the night hours before sleep, she couldn’t stop smiling, as she sometimes pirouetted around several rooms humming a bright lovely tune.

In ther middle of that night ...

“Run, Rosie, run! They are getting closer! I can hear them catching up!”

“Flower! You’re hurt! The arrow! Let me help you up! We have to keep moving!”

“OW! It hurts, Rosie! It hurts so badly! I can’t, can’t run any longer ….”

Flower woke up drenched in sweat, reliving the truth of what happened.

That man, Hamilton, saved their lives and she nearly lost her leg, but she carried a painful reminder: a jagged, five-inch scar along her calf, and a permanent limp because of it.

Suddenly, she didn’t feel like dancing.

September 1811

The weather was just beginning to cool, and Chadwick was once again at a crossroads. The survey work had come to an end and his travels had taken him north into Kentucky.

He had taken time to rest in a small town called Logan. The horse given him was part of his severance pay and, of course, it beat walking. For a dollar, he had his horse, Friendly, taken care of and fed at the local livery, found a small place to grab a meal and a room with a real feather-down bed. Until he lay down, he had almost forgotten what that felt like.

Chadwick was slowly making his way back home. It would be good to see Mother and Father again after years of being away. He had hopes of seeing his sisters as well, but he wasn’t betting that that would happen. But tonight, a long-awaited good night’s rest was in order before he made his way home.

The following morning, after dressing and having a morning meal of cornbread, beef, and eggs, and three cups of coffee, he made his way to the livery where he heard a commotion taking place.

“I said, give me that knife or I’ll bash you into the ground, runt!”

“NO! It was a gift from my father for my birthday. He would tan my hide if’n I just up and let you have it!"

“Me and my friends here’ll do more than tan yer hide, whelp! We git done with you, there won’t be much to recognize.

Still, from Chadwick’s view, the boy, rather thin, held his ground against the three older boys surrounding him. Chadwick had to give the boy credit. He was incredibly brave.

“You want this knife? You’ll have to take it from my dead body!”

That was all it took. The three boys were all over him. Thrashing fists landed over and over again. Still, the one who dared them fought back as best he could, and the odds were well against him.

Chadwick moved swiftly. Grabbing the collars of two boys, he wrenched them backward and the third he spun around and landed a hard, deep blow to the belly.

“I will say this but once—get out of here or you will get a beating like never before."

They didn’t have to be told twice.

Turning to the boy with a cut lip and what would soon be a black eye, he helped him to his feet.

“Thanks, mister. Thanks a lot.”

“You’re welcome. I didn’t like the odds. My name is Chadwick Kincade.” He stuck out his hand, which the boy grabbed, and they shook hands heartily.

“I’m James Bowie but my friends call me Jim.”

“You must sure love that knife a great deal to take such a beating for it.”

“Yeah, I know, but it came from my father. He’s a smelter and made this knife for me for my birthday."

“Then I can see why you fought back so hard. Good for you. May I see the knife?”

“Sure.” James reached down into his boot and pulled out a knife with a four-inch blade and handed it to Chadwick.

“Nice balance. Not heavy, not light, and the bone handle has a nice feel in my grip.”

“Yeah, I like it and one day, I’m going to have a knife people will talk about for weeks. I’m thinking when I turn eighteen, Father will make me the ultimate knife.”

“Well, then—Jim, I wish you success in that, but I have to be going. On my way home to visit family.”

“Well, I do thank you again and if you ever come this way again, stop by to say hello.”

Twenty minutes later, Friendly was saddled and Chadwick started his ride north to Vermont.

Late June 1812

The War of 1812 took its toll in lives on both sides. One person was lucky enough to have a minor wound but was sent back from the front lines by his stepfather. Now, William Farragut had free time for at least ninety days.

One of the very first things he did was return to Flower.

When hearing a knocking at her front door, Flower opened it and a smile as long as the Mississippi River spread across her face.

“The war? Is it over?”

“It is for me, Flower. I rode here fast as I could because I have something important to ask you.”

”My, my, aren’t we in a hurry. Now that you are here, pray tell, kind sir, what is your question?”

“Flower Kincade, would you do me the honor of being my wife?”

October 1812

Chadwick stayed with his mother and helped to run the store for the better part of four months. He understood why she had had such a difficult time explaining his father’s passing, considering it would be something she would have to do four times.

Know though, in the last thirty-five days, his mother, Hope, had taken ill, and the night of the thirty-first, she passed on in her sleep. The work, the responsibility, the continued worry over her children had taken their toll on Hope.

Chadwick no longer had a reason to stay and sold the store to a Mr. Alfred Brimford for a tidy profit which would become Chadwick’s stake for a new life.

He would find his sisters somehow and give them the grim news. In the process, he would search out new lands to call home, perhaps buy a farm. He was young still, barely twenty and four. Surely, something out there was calling to him.

Written By: Danceinsilence