We The People Of The United States, in order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general welfare and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for The United States of America.

~Preamble to the U.S Constitution; adopted Sept. 17, 1787

1.

April, 1783

The pair of draft horses pulling the heavy load of the wagon stopped at the insistence of their driver. Wearing a deep furrow in his brow, the dark haired man checked a map, then checked a compass, then checked the map again and sighed in relief.

"This must be it," he told the horses.

Sam and Sue's ears pricked at the sound of his voice and with a slap of the reins to their backsides, they forged on. What was another mile or two to them? They had already cut a blazing path from South Carolina, up through North Carolina and Virginia. They stopped with their new master here and there to camp and rest when needed and waited patiently as they were ferried across the gentle current of the Ohio River.

William Tavington on the other hand, was chomping at his own proverbial bit.

In all his years he had never been so excited about anything until this new adventure he began. His mother had always told him that he would end up losing everything he had at the card table. But his father had already done that for him and at the age of seven and thirty, he had nothing left to lose the night he sat down at that card table. Who knew he would win everything he always wanted instead?

After the miserable defeat at Cowpens left Tavington nearly crippled, he soon realized he would never be fit for true active duty again. He could never leave his Dragoons behind in favor of administrative duties and yet his body failed to meet the demands leading his men into battle required.

He sold his commission as a colonel in His Majesty King George's Army for a fair sum and lived off of it through the end of the war. He knew he could never return to England after the things he did in the name of victory for Cornwallis. Cornwallis, Tavington thought with disgust. That man had used him to get the results he needed with the Colonial Militia and then blamed his failures on Tavington when it suited him. Cornwallis had also promised Tavington a share of his land grant in The Ohio Country when The Crown was victorious over the rebellion. Holding it over his head like some unobtainable prize, laughing at him or cursing him behind his back the entire time. Now who was laughing? Cornwallis was heading back to England with his head hung in shame at his defeat. The stupid fool wouldn't even meet with General Washington when the time came, sending his second in his place.

Tavington on the other hand, finally had what he most longed for, without Cornwallis. And all it took was that one game of cards. He wondered now what his parents and Cornwallis would think of that.

He and one other man were playing deep one night in a tavern just outside of Goose Creek, South Carolina. The other gamblers had found the game too rich for their blood and moved away from the game. Tavington wasn't sure if he had the man beat until the fool dropped a simple piece of folded parchment on the table, raising the stakes in more ways than either man could imagine.

Raising an eyebrow, Tavington said rather smugly, "What's this? I play for coin, not paper."

"Ah! But this paper is worth a lot of coin," the stranger replied. He laid his cards face down on the table and carefully unfolded the document. Turning it in his hands, he showed it to Tavington saying, "It's the deed to a four-hundred acre homestead in southern Ohio. Worth more than what you've got on the table and your pockets combined I'd wager."

Tavington looked the paper over. Part of him wanting to believe this man and the other part of him, remaining wary. What was it they said about something being too good to be true? He figured his opponent must have a good hand to be betting on his land but the man was right, a four-hundred acre piece of land, even un-cleared land was worth more than anything Tavington had left to gamble with on that night. Tavington also knew first hand that many family lands had been lost in a simple game of cards.

Tavington nodded and placed the paper back into the accumulating pot, accepting the bet. The man smiled in arrogance and turned his cards face up.

A ten, a jack, a queen, a king and an ace appeared on the table- a straight.

The murmurs of the men watching the game might have distracted Tavington if it weren't for the fact that his heart skipped about ten beats. He concentrated very hard on keeping his expression blank as he turned his own cards, snapping each one as he laid them out on the table.

A two, a three, a four, a five and an ace- all diamonds- a straight flush.

Tavington didn't have to say a word to his opponent for the other man to know he had lost. The look on his now blanched face was all the confirmation Tavington needed. He stood from the table and collected his winnings, leaving the tavern and the grumbling men behind him before a brawl could ensue.

And now, here he was driving a new team, hitched to a new wagon, loaded to the gills with supplies on to his new land.

He had no idea what he was getting into, and really could care less. It was more the idea of having something that was all his own. Or at least something he could make his own. He thought back to a time in a tobacco field, when he held the pink flowers of the plant in his hand, marveling over the beautiful countryside and how everything seemed to grow so effortlessly before the reality of war snapped him back to attention.

Anyone else would have cursed at what they saw when the homestead came into view through a break in the tree line. There was a cabin, albeit a small one and everything was so overgrown he could hardly tell what had been cleared and what still needed to be cleared. To William Tavington it was beautiful in a way he never imagined.

He pulled his team around to the back of the property and found a poor excuse for a barn and what looked to be like a privy.

He jumped down from the seat of the wagon and stretched. His mind immediately began to take note of conditions and prioritizing what needed done first. Tavington laughed at himself and wondered if he would ever stop thinking like a soldier. You can take the soldier out of the army, he thought, but you cannot take the soldier out of the man.

The horses needed to be seen to first and Tavington measured their grain and strapped the canvas feed bags over their muzzles. Then, knowing they were itching to get out of the harnesses they had worn for so many weeks, he unhitched them and managed to find pegs on the side of the barn suitable for keeping the expensive tackle. With Sam and Sue's collars wiped down to keep the leather from rotting, he turned his attention to finding fresh water.

According to the map he was given with the deed, there was a spring a hundred yards or so to the north of the house. He dug out a yolk and brand new buckets from the wagon and went in search of it, hoping it wouldn't be too hard to find.

He found it exactly where it was mapped, and with the horses fed and now watered; he left them to graze for a while in the paddock next to the barn. He leaned against the fence and watched them, smiling with satisfaction over the first miniscule bit of farm work he'd ever completed.

It occurred to him there were few things he could want for at that moment and he hadn't even gotten into the house yet.

Tavington left the horses where they were and turned towards the house. From the outside he had to admit, it didn't look quite as bad as he thought when he first saw it. The door looked a little weathered and one of the tiny glass windows on each side had a crack in the pane. Some of the chinking would need replaced. But there was an impressive woodpile stacked neatly on the east side and he was certain it was still dry. One less thing to worry about for now.

He lifted the latch on the door and had to shove hard to get it open. He ducked inside and glimpsed around the dimly lit cabin. It looked as if it had been completely abandoned. Dust and cobwebs were everywhere but other than that, it remained untouched. There was a simple table and chairs with a lantern sitting in the middle, a bedstead in the corner that although dusty, looked as if it had just been made. There was a dry sink under another small window and a rack with a few dishes hanging on the wall. In the fireplace he found an iron crane for hanging cooking pots, a dusty ash bucket and fire poker. There was a loft that contained what, God only knew, and a ladder to reach it. He would worry about that tomorrow.

Tavington decided to clean the place up first before bringing his belongings and supplies in, taking inventory of what he had and what he would still need. It would also make it easier to decide where things should go. He started a fire in the hearth and set out for more water and before he knew it, his cabin- his cabin- was well on its way to becoming his new home.

The sun was beginning it's decent into the evening sky before Tavington had his things brought into the house and squared away. Barrels of salt and flour set next to the dry sink and other food supplies were put away into wood crates he stacked to form a pantry. The floor was swept and he discovered that unfortunately he would have to settle for sharing his bed with a family of mice for that first night. No matter, he didn't care. At that point he was ready for his dinner, a quick wash and bed. After putting his horses up for the night that was exactly all that remained on his agenda.

Tavington heated some water to wash and fried up a piece of salt pork, promising himself that he would hunt for some small game on the morrow.

After eating and washing away the grit from his travels and cleaning, he rolled out his bedroll over the straw mattress of his bed. The last thing to cross his mind as he fell into a deep sleep was, Fuck Cornwallis and his land grant!