Eden on the Frontier - A Colonial-era sweet romance western PA 1772

Untitled Part 1

Eden on the Frontier

By

Cheryle Williams

A Story of Colonial-era America in the backcountry of western Pennsylvania

Second edition 2018

Copyright 2016 by Cheryle Williams aka Cheryle Elaine WIlliams

All Rights Reserved

Other Young Adult novels

by Cheryle Williams

Stairway to Heaven

Strangers in the Province of Joy

Dedication and Acknowledgment

Many thanks to my friends, family and fellow writers who have helped me on the path to publication. You are much appreciated!

Thank you, Gwen Phifer, for your wonderful cover design!

Many thanks to my editor, Sarah Giese!

The Blair family in my novel would have read the following verse in the King James Bible they brought over the mountains with them. They would have taken its wisdom to heart:

Love not sleep, lest thou come to poverty; open thine eyes, and thou shalt be satisfied with bread. (Proverbs 20:13, KJV)

Note to My Readers

I've not written any scenes that might upset you with violent situations, specifically, scenes concerning physical abuse of persons or animals. I'm concerned about that issue myself, especially when I read historical novels. I have your sensibilities in mind as I write.

Chapter One

May 1772

Pennsylvania farm country

Carlisle in the Cumberland Valley

My name's Eden Anna Blair and I just turned seventeen at the end of March when the last snow of winter melted off our fields. I was so looking forward to our regular routine of getting the farm ready for spring planting, but Father surprised us by saying no, we're not going to plant this year. We have to sell our land. It's not big enough for us anymore, not when there are twelve of us in the family, with Mama and Papa and ten children. There's fresh land to be had further west on the Pennsylvania frontier. If we don't go now, someone else will claim it.

That's why we're leaving at the crack of dawn on this fine May morning. The new owners of our farm wave us farewell. They're church friends from our Presbyterian church, Scots-Irish people like ourselves. My parents know them from County Antrim in the north of Ireland when a passel of families took passage together to the colonies. That was before my sisters and brothers and I came into the world. This farm is the only life we young people have ever known, but now we're leaving it for good.

I'm not sure how I feel about this move. Mama's unhappy about being uprooted, but she holds her tongue. The older children like me are aware there's tension between our parents over this and we're trying to hide it from the younger ones. For my part, I'm in charge of watching seven-year-old Mary on this journey. She's seated atop the packhorse I'm guiding along this rough country road. Mary and old Brownie are the only things I have to worry about on our week-long trek to Bedford. The plan is to meet up there with our other relatives and rest a spell before moving on. That's fine by me.

I can handle one child and a horse. I'm putting one booted foot after another on the hard ground, avoiding any holes. Father gave me his old pair of half boots, the ones he wore to go out shooting game. I stuffed rags about the toes so they fit well. I'm taking this journey step by step.