New Yesterdays by Jim L Wright - HTML preview

Chapter 8

Seamus McCarley and his father had come to America filled with hope and dreams for a better life than they'd had in Galway. He found the gentle rolling hills of northeast Alabama to be especially pleasing. He was sure he could make some crops here and eventually raise a family.

By the time John Quincy Adams was elected president he was a moderately successful farmer, and without the aid of the slaves some of his neighbors depended so heavily on. He was rightfully proud of the fact that everything he had done had been accomplished by his own hand with the occasional help of his Indian neighbors. His cotton and corn produced beautifully year after year and the profits from selling the cotton for export to Europe made him one of the most prosperous farmers in the piedmont region. Frequently, as he worked the fields and built his house, he wished that his father had lived long enough to see it.

A year after they landed the two of them had taken jobs in a Tennessee logging camp. Ernest had thoughtlessly walked under a tree that had not been completely felled and hung precariously in the top of another tree. His plan was to cut the second tree, thus bringing both of them to the ground. As he made his way toward the second tree, he heard the loud snap of a branch breaking and looked up just in time to see the tree fall directly on him. He was dead before he hit the ground.

Seamus was disconsolate after the loss of his father. All their hopes and dreams of owning a farm in the south seemed to die under the tree that killed Ernest. He went about his duties each day, not giving any thought beyond the next tree to cut. The following spring he emerged from his haze of grief and realized that he was completely on his own and his father would be ashamed of him for giving up their dream. He collected his pay packet and began to move south again. As he moved into Alabama territory, he found fewer and fewer white people he might work for to earn a few coins. So, he kept moving. Spring 1810 found him in a Cherokee village near Turkey Town. The Indians there were very hospitable after determining he held no malice or evil designs on them or their lands. They were delighted to learn he was a farm boy and invited him to see their own farms.

Touring the fields of the Cherokee, Seamus learned a lot about local planting methods. He also offered advice he'd learned as a boy farming next to his father and grandfather. He held the Chief, Wesa in the highest esteem and respected his wisdom and advice. Often in the evening as they sat together enjoying a pipe, he shared his dreams of buying a farm and growing crops in this new land. He told Wesa stories of the English mistreatment of the Irish and how they had been dispossessed of their own lands and forced to work them as tenants. As the weeks passed into months the two men became closer and closer friends.

The days were growing shorter and shorter. The leaves of the giant old oak and hickory trees were turning to beautiful warm shades of rust and yellow. Gazing out across the seemingly endless forests showed a dazzling display of color. Soon, the trees would release their hold on their summer clothing and stand stark and nude in the winter landscape. Winter in the South isn’t as harsh as the ones in the old country, but they could sometimes be mean even in this soft climate. Seamus wasn't looking forward to moving on during the cold months.

Wesa asked Seamus to tell him again of his plans for his farm. He repeated his dream of a small house with a kitchen garden like an often-repeated prayer. He dreamed of fields of cotton and corn and a wife and family.

"How do you like living here, Seamus?" asked Wesa.

"I've enjoyed your hospitality here Chief. It's a beautiful land with the gentlest rolling hills and meadows. I can see why you and your people have chosen to build your village here."

"Everyone in our village has come to like you very much, as I have. We would like you to stay here with us and farm and enjoy a good life."

Seamus was momentarily taken aback. "I would love to do just that, but truth to tell I want to own my own place. I want a farm I can pass to my son when I am gone. Nothing in life is more important to me than the soil and I want to possess it. I want it to possess me."

The old Chief smiled gently at the Irishman. "That's what I am asking you to do. Do you see that bit of land there beyond the edge of the village? It would be a good place for a house to raise a family. The fields beyond are bordered by the creek and would produce great crops of anything you've a mind to plant. The soil is rich and soft. Accept this land as our gift to you. You and I will walk off the boundaries and you can begin clearing your fields over the winter. You will eat from our own stores until your crops begin to come in next summer."

Seamus was overwhelmed. His green eyes sparkled with tears he couldn't fight back. "I have never in my life imagined such generosity! I have saved money working here and will gladly pay you any price you ask for this land!"

“Seamus, you have been with us since just after the spring planting. You have worked alongside us as equals and never asked for anything in return. Your generosity has inspired our generosity. Accept this offer and become our neighbor. Live with us and prosper."

The tears he had been fighting so valiantly now came flowing out with great wracking sobs as he embraced his friend. "I accept your offer and in return I offer my undying loyalty and friendship!"

****