I learned something today in my research into those feisty pioneer women that I just had to share. I knew that the Daniel Day-Lewis movie Last of the Mohicans was based on James Fenimore Cooper’s novel of the same name. What I didn’t know was that the story of white girls kidnapped by Indians was based on the actual event experienced by Jemima Boone, who was rescued by her legendary father, Daniel.
The following short article is from a longer History.com article entitled 7 of the Gutsiest Women on the American Frontier. I’ve blogged about nearly all the women on the list but somehow missed Jemima. You should read the whole thing, it’s quite entertaining, but here’s my favorite part:
Rebecca Boone wasn’t the only formidable female in Daniel Boone’s family. His daughter Jemima earned her own spot in the history books on July 14, 1776. That’s when a Cherokee-Shawnee raiding group abducted Jemima, aged 14, along with two other girls while they floated in a canoe near their Kentucky settlement. Demonstrating their own knowledge of frontier ways, the quick-witted teens left trail markers as their captors took them away—bending branches, breaking off twigs and leaving behind leaves and berries.
Their rescue team, led by Daniel Boone himself, took just two days to follow the trail and retrieve the girls. The rescuers included Flanders Callaway, Samuel Henderson and Captain John Holder, each of whom later married one of the kidnapped girls. This event became such an integral part of frontier lore, author James Fenimore Cooper included it in his classic novel The Last of the Mohicans.
Ah, those ladies in defiance. How their legends live on.
by Heather Frey Blanton
Recently I’ve been researching a nameless pioneer woman who was murdered, along with her infant, on the Pennsylvania frontier. What I find so fascinating about her story is not only her willingness to attempt to wrestle a dream from the savage land, but that thousands of women ignored her fate and fearlessly followed in her footsteps.
Sometime between 1750 and 1760, Nathaniel Carter moved his wife and four young children to the Wyoming Valley in Pennsylvania. Records indicate they were the first white family to penetrate this far into an area controlled by Seneca, Delaware, and Cherokee Indians. While we know his name, even the names and ages of his children (Sarah, 11; Elizabeth, 8; Nathaniel Jr., 6), I have not been able to find out her name or that of her infant.
Imagine, a baby at your breast, young children holding on to your apron strings, and you follow your husband into the hostile wilderness along the remote Wallenpaupack Creek in the middle of the French-Indian War. At night, did her fear drown out the chirping crickets and hooting owls? Did motion in the brush send her into a panic? Did she see an Indian behind every bush?
We know that this family not only harvested their own logs for their cabin, but they built/made/grew everything they needed to survive. They even managed to befriend a small tribe of Indians known as the Paupacken, a branch of the Delaware. Their future was bright. As a family, they had grabbed hold of what would become known as The American Dream—determining their own destiny, bowing to no man or king. The frontier was their golden landscape. Surely, Mrs. Carter was filled with hope and optimism. Perhaps even a sense of peace settled on her as she watched her children play in the bones of cornstalks that fall.
No one knows exactly when the attack happened, since it was years before more settlers ventured into this area, but in November of some year now forgotten, the Carter family farm was raided by the Cherokee. Nathaniel had gone hunting. Mrs. Carter was there alone that day. No one can imagine the way her blood froze and fear sliced through her when she heard the war cries and looked up to see painted savages sprinting from the woods.
Nathaniel returned home and found his wife hacked to death with a hatchet, his young baby brutally dashed upon the rocks. His two daughters and son had been kidnapped. His house was in flames and his cattle had been stampeded into the forest.
Everything a man could hold on to had been taken from Nathaniel Carter in that lonely clearing.
And still the settlers doggedly marched forth into the American wilderness. Women trudged along beside the wagons, toddlers in tow, men cutting roads as they went. Did these hardy ladies watch the shadows in the forest, wondering if they, too, might meet the same fate as the Carter family? Resilient, defiant, they marched on, the land of dreams beckoning to them, their loyalty to their husbands overriding their fear.
If you’d like to know a little more about the Carters, I urge you to enjoy this wonderful song by a great bluegrass band, Kickin’ Grass! http://www.musicxray.com/xrays/122503