The Long Way Home; Part 2, Traveling to Hendersonville.

Phoebe was restless that night, much as she had been four nights earlier, at the outset of the journey. Her mind raced with anticipation for the business that awaited her in Hendersonville the following morning, leaving her with little sleep and a great many thoughts.

Reflecting on the journey thus far, Phoebe felt a deep sense of gratitude. The passage to Murphy had taken less than two days, aided by remarkably favorable weather. A quiet excitement stirred within her—not only for the potential rewards of her legal claim, but for the opportunity to visit old friends: Robert and Elenor Orr, who had shown her great kindness in Pendleton, and John Casada, brother of Reuben Casada and first cousin to Nancy. Though still two days from their final destination, Phoebe looked forward to renewing those friendships once they reached Hendersonville and commenced the necessary legal proceedings.

Upon arrival, the first order of business would be to call upon the office of Mr. John N. Woodfin, Esq., and sign the documents authorizing him to act as her agent in the lawsuit. Mr. Woodfin would pursue Reuben's estate for her dower rights and represent Reuben's children as the only living heirs.

Four nights earlier, her anxieties had centered on the hardships of the journey itself. Tonight, her thoughts were fixed on the litigation ahead and on claiming what was rightfully hers and her children's. She was grateful that the Unicoi Turnpike had been widened to accommodate wagon passage, even if tolls were now required as a consequence of private investment in its improvements. At her age, travel was arduous even under the most favorable conditions. The turnpike had grown considerably busier, with farmers from East Tennessee and northern Georgia driving livestock to market along its length.

Phoebe, Nancy, and William were all capable with a firearm—a necessary precaution. The dense undergrowth along the trail made travelers vulnerable to bushwhackers, most of whom were thieves, though violence was not uncommon. Fortunately, "stands" had been established every twelve to fifteen miles along the turnpike—rest stops offering taverns, inns, and livestock pens. These intervals were designed to accommodate a full day's travel for drovers moving large herds to market.

From the old Federal Road near the Tellico Blockhouse to Murphy, North Carolina, was approximately seventy miles, much of it steep and demanding. Phoebe hoped they could reach Murphy in fewer than two days. The town had become an important crossroads, connecting to river routes that led to Charleston or Savannah, where furs and hides were shipped to Europe.

Travel was governed by daylight, which was diminishing as summer gave way to autumn. Phoebe hoped to reach Hendersonville within four days. The road from Murphy to Hendersonville, though less steep than the ascent to Unicoi Gap, stretched another one hundred and twenty-five miles. On a favorable day, a wagon drawn by two strong horses could cover approximately fifty miles, and they were fortunate to maintain that pace. Dry weather kept the roads in good condition, and the cool temperatures meant the horses required fewer rest stops. Even so, the mountains often blocked the sun earlier than in the foothills, shortening the hours available for travel.

Early the following morning, after another sleepless night in McMinn County, William—with Nancy's assistance—hitched the horses to the wagon. William, a horse doctor by trade, had all the necessary equipment for the journey. As they set out, Phoebe savored the crisp autumn air. Unless one had lived in a city—with its muddy, manure-filled streets and the ever-present odor of human waste—it was difficult to fully appreciate the pleasures of country life.

In Blount County, neighbors lived half a mile or more apart, and every home had both a barn and an outhouse. Placing these structures on the eastern side of the house was a local custom. Autumn in the foothills and mountains of East Tennessee was an experience unlike any other. Each season carried its own distinct character: the heavy, musty forests of summer gave way to the airy, sweet fragrance of ripening crops in the fall. The leaves turned brilliant shades of red and gold, shimmering in the gentle morning breeze. The anticipation of harvest and the quiet satisfaction of a season's hard work filled the air, making every moment of the journey a sensory pleasure.

They set out at dawn, with William guiding the horses while Phoebe and Nancy reminisced in the back of the wagon. Nancy recalled how unkind Sallie Jordan had been during her visits to her father Reuben's plantation on the French Broad River. After the Quean girl departed, Sallie had moved in and made it abundantly clear that she had no desire for Reuben's heirs to be present. Nancy remembered Sallie's pettiness well—refusing to allow Reuben to give Nancy's dog a treat, or begrudging her a few ears of corn for supper.

Phoebe's thoughts turned to her son, who had not been so easily driven away. She wondered how he was faring, as she had not heard from him in years. Rumor had it that following a confrontation with the Jordan boys at a corn shucking, Reuben had disinherited his son and driven him off the property. Some said he had gone west—perhaps to Missouri, as many did when the western territories opened. Mail was slow and unreliable on the frontier, and Phoebe could only hope he was alive and well.

Sallie Jordan remained on Phoebe's mind. Though Phoebe acknowledged that her own life had been far from without fault, the stories she had heard about Sallie were a source of embarrassment to Reuben and to the wider community. Tales of scandalous behavior at plantation gatherings circulated freely, and many believed Sallie was manipulating Reuben for the sake of his estate. Rumors abounded that Reuben had written multiple wills—some favoring his children, others leaving everything to Sallie. It was said that the Jordan brothers had acquired plantations from Reuben, though no one could confirm whether any payment had been made.

Phoebe's thoughts returned once more to her son. At a corn shucking, the Jordan boys had taunted him relentlessly until he finally struck back, knocking one of them to the ground. Reuben sided with the Jordans and disinherited his own son. Phoebe was convinced that Sallie had Reuben entirely under her influence, and no good had come of it.

Communication remained difficult, and Phoebe longed for news of her son. Some claimed he was dead or had enlisted in the military, but she held to the hope that he had found a new life somewhere in the West.

After four long days of travel, they arrived in Hendersonville. Phoebe was struck by how much the town had grown. When she had last lived in the area, neither the town nor the county had yet existed. Henderson County had since been carved from Buncombe County, and Hendersonville's population was now approaching five thousand. The bustling town supported inns, taverns, shops, and a wide variety of businesses.

The journey had taken a considerable toll on Phoebe's seventy-seven-year-old body, but after finding a place to rest, she was prepared to face what lay ahead. She was only days away from filing her suit, and Mr. Woodfin believed she had a strong case to reclaim her dower rights and her children's inheritance.

Nancy and her husband had relocated to Tennessee considerably later than Phoebe, and as a result, Nancy still maintained a strained relationship with her father. Phoebe had only learned the full details of Reuben's life after his death, as those around her believed she needed to understand the truth about the Jordans in order to prevail in court. The community's prejudice against the Jordans ran deep, likely rooted in the widespread belief that they had manipulated Reuben and his estate for their own gain.

Phoebe had heard that as Reuben aged, he grew increasingly concerned about the state of his soul and sought membership in the Baptist Church in Hendersonville. The congregation, mindful of his marriage to Phoebe and his years of cohabitation with Sallie, initially denied his application. At one point, Reuben and Sallie had presented a letter to the Justice of the Peace and to the church, falsely claiming that Phoebe had died, in order to legitimize their union. Sallie was about to discover that Phoebe was very much alive.

If reputation were to become the central issue in the estate settlement, Phoebe harbored some concern about her own past in Pendleton—but she set those thoughts aside. She turned her attention to the present. Hendersonville was now a thriving town, a far cry from the rough frontier settlements of her youth. In those earlier days, the South Carolina Piedmont had been the center of commerce, with goods flowing in from the frontier and from the Atlantic ports. Pendleton had been a lively and prosperous town, full of energy and opportunity.

After her marriage to Reuben, Phoebe had embraced the vitality of Pendleton; however, they had eventually moved to Buncombe County at his mother's urging, settling on a plantation along the Swannanoa River. The offer of a house and land had been too favorable to decline.

As the sun rose, Phoebe resolved to gather her thoughts and find breakfast. It was a significant day. At last, she was prepared to act—not merely to speak of what needed to be done, but to do it.