In early June the war had dragged on for more than a year. Inconvenient things like shortages of food and other supplies got closer to home. Then it became personal.

Raiding Wisconsin troops torched the Doolittle’s big house in town, but to Bonnie Faye’s relief, the company was not the one Julius [her fiancé] had joined. She had no idea where he was these days. He had gone weeks without sending a letter.

Friends and neighbors who organized a bucket brigade to quench the flames miraculously saved the house, but there was extensive smoke damage and the kitchen was beyond hope. The house was no longer livable without extensive repairs.

Bonnie Faye’s Aunt Telme and her children gathered around her to discuss her options. "I think my best choice is to move to Grandpa and Grandma Booth’s cabin on Big Sugar,” Bonnie Faye said. “It looks like I need to learn to live on my own.”

Relieved, Aunt Telme said, “That would probably be best. Since we live nearby, I can spare Corrie Sue and Zack to help you get settled. I may need your help before long. It will be nice to have closer.”

Aunt Telme was expecting again. It was something of a mystery since Uncle Whis had left last July to join the Missouri State Guard. Bonnie Faye suspected he had not signed up at all and was hiding in the woods and caves near their home. Evidently, he had managed to spend some time at home.

The cabin had been empty for the last few years after her grandparents passed away, but it was well built and although only a little more than a mile from Pineville, was nestled in a wooded area and was almost invisible to anyone passing by on the road.

She stayed with the Danvers, who lived next door a few days while she salvaged essential supplies and sent a message to Little Bird to request her to come back and help with the multitude of tasks relocating entailed. Little Bird could hardly turn down her “baby” and stayed a few weeks to help Bonnie Faye settle in.

After the last wagon load had been transferred to the cabin on the creek, Bonnie Faye closed and locked the door of her childhood home. Although she hoped it would survive this terrible war, she had little hope that she would ever live in it again.

It was plain living, but close to the Clark family farm, about a mile downstream, and had a garden plot and a cleared corn patch. That meant if she burned off the weeds and plowed the plots with Charlotte, her mule, she had a chance of having crops to harvest before a killing frost. Planting was one of her priority as it was late to put in a crop for the year.

When Little Bird arrived, the first chores were to rid the cabin of its most recent occupants–dirt dobbers, and mice were the primary dwellers, but they found traces of other critters and a multitude of cobwebs and other detritus.

They planted a late garden and hoped for the best. Fortunately, the seeds saved every year in paper packets had been stored in the barn and survived the fire in town. The small orchard her grandparents had planted was a little worse for wear, but there were small fruits forming.

They were careful to keep Little Bird out of sight as much as possible when they were in town. She had dark skin and was terrified of being kidnapped and enslaved. It was easier for her to hide at the farm, but they were both always on alert in case a stranger was to show up.

The root cellar in town yielded a basket of seed potatoes they cut up and planted. Potatoes and onions would keep well if stored properly. With more optimism than was merited, they planted carrots, tomatoes, sweet and Irish potatoes, white sweet corn, squash and pumpkins. Though it might seem frivolous, she also planted a short row of popcorn. The most important crop was yellow dent field corn. It could be converted to whiskey if Uncle Whis would help her. She knew there was a nice little copper still up in the holler that branched off the valley behind the barn and she also knew he had plenty of experience.

Little Bird reminded her that food for the animals was also important. So they stocked up on animal feed.

She didn’t have a spinning wheel or loom, but if she needed homespun fabric, she hoped she could barter for it. Besides, she didn’t have the faintest idea of how to use either of them

All summer long, Bonnie Faye tended the garden and kept it watered and weeded to produce as much as possible. She wasn’t used to hard work, so she whined to Little Bird about the blisters and sore muscles acquired by hoeing. Little Bird just smiled and rather enjoyed seeing her former mistress toil for a change.

Both were leery of getting far from the cabin, so foraging for huckleberries and blackberries was limited. They had more luck with nuts–black walnuts, butternuts and chinquapins and butternuts were plentiful. It was as if nature was trying to help. Except for grapes. It seemed the minute they were ready to pick, they disappeared overnight. They weren’t called possum grapes for nothing.

She gathered apples and peaches from her small orchard and sliced some to dry on the porch roof. The rest she cooked down into apple butter and peach jam and stored them in the springhouse. When the first leaves turned in late August, Little Bird returned to Indian Territory.

Early fall passed uneventfully at the cabin in the woods after the visit of the bushwhackers. Bonnie Faye became numb to the often uncomfortably close violence and bloodshed. Hardly a day went by without her hearing of another atrocity or bloody encounter, but she wouldn’t allow herself to dwell on it. It was enough to focus on her survival and rely on Laddie to warn her if danger got too close.

The distance of the cabin from the main road was the biggest protection. Her cabin was simply overlooked. She was happy the lane from the main road was overgrown. When she needed supplies, she rode Rosie the mule following the trail that led over the hill to the Arnett general store and post office to avoid making a path to the main road.

Her days settled into a routine of sorts. It was essential to put by enough food to see her and her animals through a long winter and to protect what resources she had. She worked hard every day doing the necessary chores and fell into bed each night exhausted.