April 1775 a plantation in South Carolina
It was a beautiful and warm spring day. The flowers and the grass moved easily in a pleasant breeze of a light wind. The birds sang their songs from the trees. Dozens of these trees stood on the large estate. Lovingly planted and cared for. Their crowns bore the most beautiful flowers imaginable. Cherry and apple trees, now kissed awake by the spring sun, were waiting to present their ripe fruits some time later. Right in the middle of this large estate stood a house. It was a stately building and the porch invited to linger. Lovingly designed flower arrangements completed the picture, which complemented the pieces of furniture harmoniously.
In a rocking chair, made of dark and noble wood, sat an elderly man. His hair was grey and he had tied it back to a short braid. The glasses were on the front of his nose tip and his grey-blue eyes looked up at regular intervals from the newspaper he read so as not to miss the action around him. Because nothing really escaped those eyes. With a stern look and a firm voice he delegated his servants. They were slaves like everywhere else at that time. They came with the ships of the travelling traders from Africa or other colonies. But for Mr. Lehman they were not slaves in the direct sense. For him they were above all people. No more - no less. He even paid them for their work. This man was the head of the Lehman family. He was in his early 50s and a merchant for various colonial goods. He also had successful relations with Great Britain. Many of his goods went overseas. Tobacco, cotton, fabrics. The British thankfully took it from him. Because they could not grow such things themselves, which was also connected with the British weather. Over decades he built up his trade relations and became rich and wealthy. So it came as no surprise that he could afford such a dreamlike property with a guesthouse and stables and a dozen servants.
While his eyes wandered over the property, a woman sat next to him on a dark wooden bench. She was a beautiful person and much younger than her husband. But also in her appearance she differed clearly from the other women in the surroundings. She was a native Indian and a Cherokee. Her long black hair fell loosely over her shoulders. The dress she wore harmonized beautifully with her dark eyes. You could read a certain pride from them. A pride that was not so easy to break. Her hands were busy embroidering.
"What are you doing?" Something broke the silence. It was Stuart Lehman who hectically jumped up from his rocking chair and shouted this sentence at his servants. They desperately tried to catch a horse that had escaped. But this hustle and bustle did not go unnoticed. Heads now looked out of every corner.
"That must not be true!" The otherwise so quiet Stuart became abusive and it was not at all his way to react. His wife, who carries the name Galilahi and which means "attractive and pretty", stood up and approached her husband. She touched his arm. "Stuart, please calm down!" Her eyes met and his mind recovered a little. But that was only of short duration. In the next moment he almost lost his composure again. A young girl ran fast steps from the field across the meadow directly to the horse. She carelessly dropped the bucket of potatoes. "Raven!" She shouted it out loud and had soon reached him. In the meantime he had a rope around his neck. But he could not be tamed. He climbed up and hit the one helper on the head with one of his front hooves. He landed on his back with a loud scream in the dusty ground. "Tahoe!" Shoutend her parents at the same time and ran over the porch. Again their name sounded. But she did not listen to it. With her calm voice and her whole way she calmed the horse. She spoke quietly and calmly and put her hand on the head of the horse. With her other hand she carefully took the rope. Raven scratched slightly with his left front hoof and snorted through his nostrils.
"Miss Tahoe Lehman", her father shouted angrily. "What are you thinking?" He ran towards her. "Calm down, Stuart", his wife spoke to him. "Father, it's all good", said Tahoe, stroking her fingers slightly over Raven's mane. "If you think this is good..." He interrupted the sentence he had just spoken and pointed to the Kane lying on the ground. He had a laceration on his head. „Please Father and Raven didn't do this on purpose. You know best how he reacts to others!" Tahoe looked at him with her big dark eyes and with a look that all fathers know from their daughters. "Mmmh, all right. But you make sure that Raven doesn't harm anyone anymore. Did we understand each other there, Tahoe?" His look at her said it all. Understandingly she nodded to him. "Yes father! "Brings Kane into the house. He must be treated!" On the heel he turned around and went back towards the porch. Visibly annoyed and upset, he sat down in his rocking chair and tried to read his newspaper. Tahoe brought the meanwhile quiet Raven back into the stable. Mrs. Lehman and Joe helped the injured Kane to his feet and supported him carefully on the way into the house.
So this beautiful spring day was quite turbulent. To the taste of Mr. Lehman too turbulent. He had enough worries about his business. They were still going well enough. But the daily reports about the riots in the individual cities along the coast, which broke away from Great Britain and the crown, made him uneasy. With deep wrinkles on his forehead that felt more every day, he had to accept it as it was.
Later in the evening the Lehmans sat at the table and had dinner. There was stew. Mrs. Lehman was an excellent cook and so it was never surprising that her house was well attended most of the time.
During the meal Stuart remembered the news he had read in the newspaper unpleasantly. His wife noticed the change in his behavior. "Stuart, darling. What about you", she asked him. He briefly closed his eyes and shook his head slightly. "Don't worry. It's all right." His gaze hit hers. He sighed and then continued. "I'm just worried about this bad news from Britain and the colonies." A silence arose at the table and Stuart rose. He went to the fireplace and looked into the blazing fire. The flames were reflected in his eyes. "There will be war!" His voice, his words - they sounded hard and yet you could hear a certain degree of concern and fear. He turned around to his family sitting at the table. His daughter slowly let the spoon sink onto the plate and looked at her mother. She drove her hand soothingly over her daughter's hand. "Are you sure you're Stuart?" He took turns looking at his wife and daughter. But he said nothing. Silently he sat down on his chair again. "We can only hope. Only hope", he said after all. "What if the war really comes, father?" Worried and questioning, dark eyes looked at him.
"Then only God can help us!" His words, they remained silent in the room. He took his cutlery and tried to continue enjoying his meal. His two women at the table looked at him and tried to devote themselves to their food.
Some time later the time had come and the reports of the first fights came through the cities. It was not long before the mobilization was declared. Now it was there! The war. Although not felt close, but it was there. In the cities, in the villages - slowly it crept up. Like a predator that had its prey firmly in sight. The Lehmans also noticed the change. But everything was to become much worse than they could ever have imagined. At the latest in one year they will get to feel it on their own body. But they could not know that now at this time yet.
During these first fights between the British and soldiers of the American colonies, especially a young and brave soldier made a name for himself. It was a Lieutenant of the British Cavalry Regiment, called the "British Green Dragoons". A man with a name that everyone in the colonies knew in less than two years.
"William Tavington.