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                             CHAPTER THIRTEEN
                  A HOSS RACE & COVERED WAGONS

   As we had anticipated, all our children and grandchildren started showing up early the
next morning, anxious to hear the results of our visit to all the Goodwin kinfolk. When we
were all finally settled on the front porch, William proceeded to tell them every aspect of
the entire six day trip. 
   When he finished relating the story of Old Fed and his family, his eyes began to tear up,
and he continued talking to everyone, but no-one in particular, asking, “Why does a man
have to be born into slavery, live his entire life servin’ a master, never experiencin’ the
anticipation of a better future, knowin’ his children and grandchildren face the same fate.
It’s not right. I would rather die than face that type of life. How could he believe that the
Lord had blessed him with a happy life? The Lord has doomed all of those people to a life
of heartache and misery. I’ve never owned a slave and never will, so somebody tell me
why I felt such a sense of shame when Fed was talkin’.” 
   My reply was, “William, I can’t answer that question, but I’m sure most of us here feel
the same way, and I only pray that we always will.” Julius and Wiley, both had several
Negroes. William Andrews also had two families of Negroes.
   Julius nervously turned the conversation to the matters at hand when he said, “Sounds
like y’all had a prosperous trip. From the signatures looks like we already got thirteen
families signed up.” William followed with, “Well, according to Harris and Mark, you can
also count on the Hays, Littles, and Parsons families. That’s sixteen for sure.” I continued
with, “Union County is slam full a’ Jackson’s and accordin’ to Harris, a bunch of ‘em have
plans to go, so we won’t really know how many we’ll have until we meet at Red Bank
Church.”
   Julius asked, “What if some of ‘em refuse to sign the contract? What do we do then?” I
answered, “Don’t worry ‘bout that. Mary, Nancy, and Tabitha copied down every word of
it and will have the signatures before any family from up there can join the group.” Julius
replied, “That’s great. I’d hate to have problems at the last minute.”
   Becky, while rocking Nancy Jane, entered the conservation with, “Looks like we’ll
have all ages on the trip ranging from the seventies down to little Nancy Jane here, who’ll
be the youngest.” Young’s wife Elizabeth, quickly corrected her by rubbing her stomach
saying, “No, I think it’ll be little Jasper or Amanda here. Whichever, it’ll be here in about
five months now.” Everyone with the exception of Young was taken by complete surprise. 
   After the consumption of a huge dinner and ‘bout two more hours of discussing the
planned trip, everyone began leaving for their homes with a feeling of excitement and
happiness.
    William, T.J., and I spent the rest of the summer outfitting four new wagons, breaking
in three new pair of oxen, and replacing old harness. Julius and Young were able to buy
fifteen used tents from the South Carolina Militia. I’m sure they will come in handy for the
trip and for a dwelling until we’re able to build houses. After the crops were in that fall, I
asked T.J. to ride over to John Bledsoe’s place with me. He was led to believe that we
were going to buy a new saddle horse for me. It was only a week until his eighteenth
birthday. When we walked out into John’s pasture, I said, “Happy birthday T.J. Go pick
out a horse for yourself.” His eyes got big and round, and his jaw almost dropped to the
grass. In his excitement he shouted, “A hoss for me! You really mean it, Papa, a real live
sho’ ‘nuff hoss a’ my own?” 
   While T.J. was picking out a horse, I told John, “I sure wish you and Sarah were
comin’ with us. We’re really gonna miss y’all.” John replied, “We’d like to go with y’all,
but with all the folks ‘round here buyin’ new oxen and horses, I’m makin’ more money
than I ever thought was possible. I just can’t possibly leave now. I hope when this
Alabama Fever wears off a little, we can join y’all over there.”
   With our help, T.J. finally settled on a three-year old black gelding. He looked a lot like
William’s Charcoal. John threw in an old saddle with the deal. When we started across the
creek into the yard, T.J. started yelling, “Y’all come on out here and see ma’ new hoss.”
Sarah was the first one out the door and just had to try him out. T.J. said, “Now, you
don’t start showin’ out, and don’t you dare run him fast.”
    Naturally, Sarah did both. As she jumped out of the saddle she said, “Boy, you sho’
picked out a fine hoss. He can fly. He might even outrun Hickory on a good day.” T.J.
replied, “Well, when you’re ready for a race, let me know. Ain’t no girl gonna beat me in a
hoss race.” Sarah said, “I’d race you right now, but we’ve already tired your horse out, so
we’ll race tomorrow mornin’. What you gonna name him?” T.J. said, “I been thinking
‘bout that all the way home and since we’re moving to Alabama, I think I’ll just call him
‘Bama’.” T.J. spent the next three hours rubbing Bama down and putting a glowing shine
on the saddle and bridle. 
   The next morning right after breakfast the big race was on. William and his family came
down to see it, and we all sat on the front porch to watch. The track was across the creek,
over the irrigation bridge, around the big oak on the back side of the cotton field and back
to the front porch. The first one to pass the hickory tree out in the front yard was the
winner. William was the official starter. 
   Facing the pair sitting anxiously on their mounts, William held his right hand over his
head. When he suddenly dropped it, they were off like a shot. Hickory was slightly behind
when they reached the creek. Bama ran through the creek which was about two feet deep,
while Hickory leaped it completely in a single bound and wound up in front on the other
side. On the way back Hickory again cleared the creek completely while Bama choose not
to break stride and ran through it again. Hickory won by a head. T.J.’s response was,
“Didn’t prove a thing ‘bout their speed. Just proved Hickory could jump.” 
   Young and Elizabeth were expecting their baby any day now and asked Sarah if she
would come up and stay with them for a while and help with the birthing. Sarah happily
agreed but told her mother privately as she was packing her saddlebags, “Mama, I’ve
never seen a baby born before. What am I supposed to do?” Becky assured her that there
would be someone there to help deliver the baby, and all she needed to do was help with
the washing and cooking. Sarah rode up to Young’s on the twenty-first of October, and
Jasper Tompkins Goodwin was born on the twenty-fourth. Sarah was back home on the
third of December.
   All the Goodwin women planned to make our last Christmas in South Carolina an
event to be remembered. Becky wrote Harris and Mary and asked them to plan on coming
down a few days before and staying through the holidays. The rest of the families would
come over early on Christmas morning. Becky even got Reverend Salter to agree to come
over for dinner and deliver a private Christmas afternoon service for us.
   Harris, Mary, and their children, Warren and Nancy, arrived on the twenty-third, and
we thoroughly enjoyed those two days with just them alone without the noise and
interruptions of the whole Goodwin clan. William’s Mary, and Harris’ Mary, being the
great cooks they are, were a tremendous help to Becky and Sarah in preparing all the
Christmas food. Sarah and T.J. were in charge of all the Christmas decorations including
the big cedar tree that T.J. brought in four days before Christmas.
   Unbeknownst to any of us, Sarah had gone to the store in Edgefield and bought a bag
of hard candy for each of her nieces and nephews, tied them with a bright ribbon, wrote
their names on the bags, and placed them neatly under the tree. Sarah wanted to give them
out as the children arrived, but Becky reminded her that if she did, none of ‘em would eat
a bite for dinner. They decided to wait until right before the Christmas service to pass
them out.
   William and his family all came down and had breakfast with us on Christmas morning.
Just after sun-up, all the other children and grandchildren began to arrive. Wiley, Amy,
and their daughter, Caroline, were the first, then came Julius, Margaret and their children,
Aquilla Miles, Theophilus J., and Mary Ann. Next came Young G. and Elizabeth with
their new baby boy, Jasper Tompkins. 
   By mid-morning, Tom and Frances Wright, with their boys, Henry, Theophilus, and
Julius; Charity and Dempsey Hatcher, with their children, Jackson, Elizabeth, Rebecca,
and Dempsey Jr. ; Gillie and Buck Forrest, with their children, Jeff, Elza, Ellen, and
Rebecca were all there. Counting Becky, Sarah, T.J., myself, and the preacher we had
forty-four people for Christmas dinner.
   In all my fifty-three years, I,ve never seen such a spread of scrumptious vittles. There
were pies and cakes of all kinds, turkey, ham, chicken, dressing, cornbread, biscuits, rice,
potatoes, gravy, turnip and collard greens, beans, peas, and all kinds a’ candies and
cookies I’d never seen before.
   ‘Bout three in the afternoon, Sarah called the children in and passed out the candy.
They were exuberant. When she had finished, Preacher John crowded all the rest of us into
the parlor for the Christmas service. He opened his big Bible to the book of Luke and
stated reading the Christmas story. His deep vibrant voice and the message had us all
mesmerized, even with the occasional loud cracking sounds from the mouth of four-year
old Willie T. and the subsequent giggles of nine-year old, Mary Ann, and seven-year old
Rebecca. The preacher was very patient, paused with every loud crack and proceeded
with an excellent message.
   After everyone left, William, Harris, and I were sitting around the kitchen stove. The
women and children were out in the parlor by the fire place. Harris said, “Let me catch
y’all up on who me and Mark have signed up for the trip to Alabama. Thomas and Cassie
Hays, their daughter, Elizabeth and her husband, Amos Little, and her brother-in-law,
Aaron Little; Sampson’s daughter, Sandal and her husband Daniel Jackson; Anna
Goodwin Woodson’s son, Goodwin Woodson and his wife Nancy Jackson Woodson; and
three other Jackson families, brothers of Daniel.
   That’s the ones from up ‘round Union County, then Mark signed on his in-laws, Joseph
and Alcey Parsons. ‘Course y’all already know ‘bout Theo T. and his boys, Joshua, Tom,
and Solomon. Looks like we’ll have ‘bout fifteen wagons and a passel a’ people meetin’
y’all at the church the end of February.” William replied, “Then that means we’ll have
‘bout thirty wagons goin’, countin’ Ira and Mary Ann Portis.”
   I interrupted with, “Oh yeah, Harris. I forgot to tell you, that we got a answer from our
letter to the Portis’ last month, sayin’ they’ll be at Hays’ Store sometime ‘round the
twenty-third of February and at the Red Bank Church ‘bout three days later. I sent them a
good map. Accordin’ to their letter, there’ll probably be a few more families with them.
Please let the Hays’ know when you get back home.”  
   Harris and his family left the next day for their home in Laurens County. William, T.J.,
and I were out at the barn feeding the stock when William said, “Papa, I’ve been thinkin’
‘bout what we could do on our trip in case we run into some bad rain storms. I sho’
wouldn’t want Mama, Mary, and the younguns gettin’ sick on us. I think I’ve got the
answer though. You know those tents Julius brought over are ‘bout the right size to make
a good cover for the wagons.” 
   William continued, “If I was to make three small wooden slots on the outside of both
sides of each wagon, then cut some long hickory poles, soak ‘em good, then bend them
where the ends would fit in tha’ slots and then let ‘em dry that way, we’d have a good
solid frame to put the tents over. That way we could keep them and our belongings dry no
matter if it was rainin’. If it wadn’t rainin’ we could just take the tents off and fold ‘em up.
We could even let the women and younguns sleep in the wagons ‘stead of on the ground.” 
   T.J. said, “That’s a great idea, William. Can I help you build ‘em?” William replied,
“Yeah, I’ll even let you pick out the hickory. Grab that axe over yonder and go on out in
tha’ woods and cut me twenty-four saplings ‘bout the size a’ ya arm. Make sure they’re at
least fifteen feet long. There’s a bunch of saplings ‘bout that size out back of Coot’s old
cabin.” I interrupted with, “Whoa, wait a minute, I need both a’ y’all to help me first. I had
the blacksmith in Edgefield build me a heavy iron and wood strongbox to fit snug under
the wagon seat. It sho’ is heavy, so y’all help me get it into one a’ these new wagons ‘fore
y’all get started on y’all’s project.”
   William asked, “What’d you get that contraption for? We ain’t gon’ be haulin’ no gold
or nothin’, are we?” I laughed and said, “No, but we’re all gonna have a lot of cash money
with us for buyin’ land and such, and I wanta make sure it’s safe. I trust all a’ us, but we
gonna have a buncha folks with us I ain’t even laid eyes on yet.” William replied, “Oh
yeah, you’re right.” He grabbed one end of the box as T.J. got the other and lifted it onto
the wagon. William sent T.J. up to his place to get Jack, Harriet and Simpson to help
them, and I went on back in the house to get a cup a’ coffee, talk to Becky and Sarah, and
warm up by the wood stove.
   Between sips of her coffee, Becky said, “Whether y’all like it or not, y’all got to help
get rid of those leftovers from yesterday. We got more food than I know what to do
with.” I told her, “Becky, I could eat that kind of food for a month and never complain.
Y’all outdid y’allselves with that Christmas cooking. I thought it would take three of us to
get Preacher Salter back on his horse after all he ate. Never seen a man eat so much in my
life.” Sarah defended him by saying, “Well, he doesn’t have a good wife like you do to
cook hot meals and look after him.” 
   ‘Bout noon, Becky put a big pan of cornbread in the oven and started warming up the
leftovers. She said, “Sarah, run on up the hill and tell Mary to bring the younguns and
come on down here for dinner. On your way tell all of ‘em in the barn to wash up and
come on in too.” She continued, “Theo, if you’ll get out a’ the way and get some extra
chairs from the dinin’ room, we’ll just eat right here at the kitchen table. It’s a lot warmer
in here.” I obediently said, “Yes, ma’am”, and started moving chairs.
   After a dinner of leftovers William, T.J., and the children went back to the barn to
finish their work. Late that afternoon, Jack came running into the kitchen and said, “All a’
y’all come on out to the barn and look.” Sure enough, they had one of the wagons
completely covered with a canvas tent and tied down securely around the sides. William
said, “Mama, you and Mary won’t have to worry ‘bout any a’ y’alls stuff gettin’ ruint by
rain now. It don’t take but a few minutes to cover the wagons and tie down the canvas.”
Of course, Jack, Simpson, and their father gave us a demonstration by quickly covering
one of the other wagons. Jack jumped up in one of the wagons and said, “See, you can
stand straight up in here and not even touch the top.”
   We all went back into the kitchen, and I finally brought up the subject we had all been
avoiding when I said, “We’re only goin’ to be able to take a certain amount of our
belongings with us, so we need to start decidin’ and makin’ a list of the things we can
take, and what we leave behind.” Becky replied, “Theo, you and William decide what farm
tools y’all want to take and go ahead and load them. Then y’all leave it up to me and Mary
as to what we decide on. There’ll be a lot less arguments that way. Besides, you bought
those oxen to pull the four wagons, and if we see they can’t do it after they are fully
loaded, then we’ll start takin’ things off.”
   I replied, “That’s fine with me, but there are some things that we 
can eliminate before loadin’.” Becky retorted, “Like what, for example?” I replied, “Like
that heavy stove, there, and those eighteen hickory rockers out on tha’ porch.” With fire in
her eyes, Becky said, “Theophilus (a name she only used when she was mad), I’ve been
feedin’ y’all off a’ that stove for ova’ twenty years now, and if you think I’m gonna leave
it, you’re crazy. Besides that, ole Coot made each and every one of those rockers with his
own hands on account a’ his love for us and not a’ one of ‘em is gonna be left!” I could
see what I was gonna have to contend with for the next two months before we leave for
Alabama. I just hope those poor old oxen out there in the pasture survive the trip.
   By the end of January, 1825, I had convinced Becky that I had saved enough money to
buy a new stove plus new furniture and other necessities. She did convince me to take four
of the rockers, and by the middle of February we settled on the exact items we would be
able to take with us and were able to sell or give away the rest. We gave the stove to our
daughter, Frances, and the rockers and some other heavy furniture to our daughter, Gillie.
They were to pick them up the day we left.
   Bartlett Bledsoe’s estate was finally settled in 1819, twelve years after his death. Our
property went to Wiley and Amy and, having known Bartlett and Lydia, I suppose that’s
the way they would have wanted it. Wiley sold it on February 22, 1825 for four thousand
dollars and came by on February 23rd to give me the money. When I told him that we
never bought the land, he said, “I know that, Papa, but I didn’t either, so who should get
the money? Me and Amy sho’ won’t take it.  We figure it rightly belongs to you and
Mama. Y’all are the ones who built the house and worked the land for the last thirty-three
years.” I replied, “This turn of events I never expected, but this extra money will sure help
when we get to Alabama.” We gave William one thousand five hundred dollars of it to
off-set the cost of their house. He and Mary were completely surprised but were happy to
get the money.
   On the morning of the twenty- sixth, a strange horse and rider came across the creek
and into the yard. He was a tall, husky built fellow, with graying black hair, sporting a well
trimmed moustache. He appeared to be in his early forties. I walked out into the front yard
as he jumped off his horse and said, “I hope your name is Theo.” When I nodded my head,
he continued, “I’ve already stopped at two farms looking for y’all. My name’s Ira Portis,
from Ransom’s Bridge, North Ca’lina.” As I shook his hand, I said, “Yeah, I’ve been
looking for y’all any day now. How many families came with you?” He replied, “Just two,
but with the younguns and Negroes, there’s ‘bout twenty-five folks. We all set up camp
back at Red Bank Church late yesterday evenin’. We wanted to make sure we got here
early.” 
   I said, “Come on in the house, I want you to meet my family.” We went on out to the
kitchen, and Becky poured us a cup of coffee and asked, “Can I fix you some breakfast,
Mr. Portis?” He replied, “No, thank you, I ate ‘round daylight this morning, and please
call me Ira or Preacher like all a’ my friends do.” After catching us up on his family and
the Franklin County folks, two hours had passed. Ira said, “Well, I’d better be headin’
back up to tha’ camp. We’ll see y’all day after tomorrow.” We walked with him to the
front yard and waved goodbye as he crossed the creek. 
   On the morning of the twenty-seventh, two of Wiley’s Negroes, Buckeye and Fudge,
came walking up to the house. Wiley had sent them over to help us load and also to drive
for us. Buckeye was ‘bout sixteen, six feet tall and as broad as an axe handle. Fudge, was
‘round twenty, short and a little pudgy ‘round the middle. They were fascinated when they
saw how we had outfitted the wagons for the tents. Both of them proved to be well
trained in the handling of oxen and had two of the wagons backed up to our back porch in
no time. They took the other two wagons up to William’s house.
   By the end of the day the wagons were completely loaded and ready to leave early the
next day. Fudge was to drive one of William’s wagons, and Jack was to drive the other.
William had painstakenly worked with Jack for the past month teaching him all the in’s
and out’s of handling the oxen and wagons. Buckeye, T.J. and me were responsible for
our two wagons. Our last night in the house that had served us well for the last
thirty-three years was a little sad, but this was overshadowed by our excitement over the
trip.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN                                                                                                       BACK