doing it.
“Lott, you mind givin’ this ole brother of yores a hug. You know to be such an ass sometimes, you really is sump’n,” Jake said.
“I love ya and I’m going to go get her tomorrow,” concluded Jake.
“I love you, too, you big ox. That is, most of the time,” laughed Lott, relieved that Jake had not taken offense.
The following morning, Jake was gone by good daylight and before noon had returned with Hatta and her few belongings.
In the weeks that followed, Hatta brought many changes to the Wilson’s household. She kept the house spotless, cooked better than either brother and with her pleasant demeanor, kept Lott and Jake from their habitual arguing.
Four months later, in November of 1834, Hatta gave birth to a healthy and beautiful boy. Since the Choctaws had named Jake, Homa Chitto. Hatta and Jake decided to use the name Homa, but to change it to Homer, the English name. Homer had brown skin and dark eyes like his mother, but his hair was a light shade of red, almost golden like his father’s.
Never had a man been more proud of his son. Jake continually spoke of future plans for Homer and Hatta and how he wanted to set good examples for the boy. Jake even tried to control his temper and tongue.
Lott always got up early and read a few chapters in the Bible before starting the day’s work. One morning he had an unexpected guest.
“Lott, you mind if Homer and Hatta listen to you? When I was small, my father read stories to me in God Jesus Book,” Hatta said. “I want to know more.”
“Come on out here. I can use the company,” replied Lott. “You ever hear ‘bout King David and the giant?”
“Tell me,” urged Hatta.
After Lott finished the story, she looked puzzled.
“Lott, why missionaries no come here with settlers? White men all know God? God not important?”
“Hatta, God is important but not all white men believe as this book teaches. And they’ll come, the preachers that is, and when they do, this country is going to get back on the right track. You and Jake is going to get married up right when the first one comes by.”
From then on, Lott, Hatta and Homer began their day reading and talking about the stories in the Bible. When the weather permitted, they met on the front porch, but when it was cold, they would sit around the fireplace in the kitchen.
Jake, always a slow riser, finally decided to join the group. Before long, he was taking an active part in the devotions and enjoyed impressing Hatta with his ability to read and discuss the scripture.
As Mister Mac had predicted, the first few years of settlement had brought a lot of violence and turmoil to the hillcountry. Meanwhile, there was not enough law enforcement to settle the continuing disputes. Judge Henry had moved from Union to the new county seat located near the center of Newton County, and he had only one sheriff and one deputy for the entire county.
There were violent fights among neighbors, heavy drinking and gambling. Men would meet every Sunday for horse racing, dog fighting and anything else they could dream up for entertainment. Often these meetings would end in brawls when losers were forced to pay their gambling debts.
Judge Henry always advised his sheriff, “Go out and see who started the trouble and if it was a fair fight. If one of them got killed and you think it’s fair, to hell with them. Don’t bring no one to me to judge on.”
Lott and Jake stayed clear of trouble. They worked hard and minded their own business. Jake still didn’t much care for farming, but he had two special interests. First, to Lott’s objection, he earned the reputation of making some of the best homebrew and corn whiskey in the county. People would come from miles around and most homes kept it as a normal household commodity. And second, as much pride as he took in his whisky making, his real first love was horses.
He had never even been on a horse until he began surveying with Mister Mac, but since then he was obsessed with how fast a horse could run carrying a man on its back. He searched and traded for the best horses in the state, and once a purchase was made, Jake bred for speed only. Eventually Jake made large sums of money buying and selling horses and he seldom lost a bet at the tracks.
One day Jake heard about a new breed of horse called a quarter horse, a mix between a thoroughbred and the type of horses the Spaniards had brought into Mexico centuries earlier. A man in Natchez was raising them, and the more Jake heard about how quick the horse was, the more he wanted such an animal. It took all the money he had put away from his liquor and racing, but he traveled to Natchez and returned with the first quarter horse the Newton countians had ever seen. His goal was not only to raise a fast horse, but also one that could carry his own massive weight.
A sudden downpour of rain followed by a refreshing cool northern breeze, swirled the leaves in the tops of the trees sending them fluttering toward the ground and brought an end to the extremely hot and dry summer of 1836. Fall was now in the air.
On one of these cool days, Hatta was hanging out some clothes she had just finished washing when the sounds of a wagon rattling and creaking up the rough path leading to the house caught her attention. The noise startled Red and Sourdough, Lott’s prize hounds, who were curled up under the front porch. They bolted out and raced toward the approaching wagon barking and yelping loud enough to warn the entire community.
Hatta quickly walked to the front of the house to get a closer look. As the wagon reached the house, Hatta nervously called out, “This is the Wilson place. What you want here?”
“I assume you might be Mrs. Wilson,” responded the man who was driving as he politely tipped his hat. Tm Samuel Thompson and this here is my wife, Sarah, and that young lady on the end is my daughter, Sarah Alice. We’ve come to talk to Mister Lott Wilson.”
“My name is Hatta, not Mrs. Wilson. Lott and Jake has gone to check on horses near the creek. They be back soon. Get down and come to porch.”
Shortly Lott and Jake rode up with their splendid horses in tow. They were surprised to see guests but assumed they were settlers wishing to locate their property.
Walking up to the steps, Lott introduced himself and Jake and then sent Jake into the house to get some chairs. Lott was introduced to Sarah Alice last and he noticed that she was only a few years younger than he was.
“Mister Wilson, this here is Sarah Alice, our one and only daughter. She’s a petite thing, but she’s some kind of musician. She can play anything she gets her hands on,” said Mister Thompson.
Lott took his hat off and bowed slightly as he reached to shake her hand. She was pretty and only stood about five feet tall with long curly blond hair and deep blue eyes, much the same color as his.
They stood awkwardly holding each other’s hand not knowing how to continue the introduction.
Sarah thought, “This is the most handsome man I have ever met in my life and with such good manners. I hope he isn’t with that Indian lady. I’ll just die if he is.”
Lott was embarrassed and finally found words to get himself out of his predicament.
Im Lott Wilson, and Jake and me was the first white settlers in this country. You all please have a seat,” Lott said, directing Sarah to a chair.
“I heard about you ‘fore we came over today, and Tm also proud to meet ya,” answered Sarah, taking her seat next to Lott.
“Mister Wilson, Tm going to get right to the point of our callin. Tm a Methodist preacher who is workin’ for the Lord in this county, and I want to hold a preachin’ on yore place and invite all the folks ‘round here to come,” stated Mister Thompson.
“A preacherman!” exclaimed Jake. “Hell, we’s been waitin’ for you for two years.”
Realizing his tongue had gotten away from him, he apologized, “Pardon me, preacher, the devil gets a hold of me sometimes.”
“The