The Cabin

The Cabin

Did you ever go away off in search of the nearest and dearest kindred - and then, unexpectedly, on a bright and fragrant spring morning, find those dear ones in the dark depths of an almost impervious wilderness?

Baynard Hall The New Purchase 1855

The dry moon lay flat on its back. A horse stood tethered to a grateful walnut tree. The buttery fragrance of staghorn sumac wafted across the ravine. It was dusk as John Steinmeier pried loose strata of the cabin he planned to burn. His uncovering of the cabin revealed a plank notched with a latch string hole. He appreciated it. Outsiders could enter the cabin only when twine extended through the latch hole. It kept out the callous wild. His labor brought him near to the cabin’s origins. He expected rot as he looked for penetration of moisture in its hollows. He saw none. As he toiled, Steinmeier recalled his lodge’s recent funeral procession of Brother Winpenny to the city limits where it was met by brethren from Centre Lodge.

When the town was just a thickening of a country settlement, a Quaker built the cabin about six miles out along Allisonville Pike near the Pendleton Toll Road. He judged it a proper location to establish trade as it was abundant with turkey, quail and squirrel. Most hunters in the area used rifles. Unless a turkey ran in line with the barrel, it was hard to shoot its head with a rifle. The Quaker used a shot-gun. He sought good price from travelers along the pike for his game.

He built the cabin, midway up a ravine, of rough hewn logs chinked and daubed. He hung rag carpets round the inside of its walls to buffet the winds. He left the cutting out of a door, windows and chimney for the cabin to a more convenient season that never arrived. The impulse of his improvement ran ahead of his barter. There were too many hunters and not enough travelers. Even with Cincinnati salt, the game quickly turned rank. The Quaker retreated to the White River settlement.

The next occupants feared cutting openings in wrong places in the cabin and so cut none at all. They made an entrance by prying up two corners of the cabin and taking out the third log from the bottom. They fancied the land for a dairy. The ravine proved too obstinate. That and the grudge of Widow Myers who charmed their cows. The cattle gave bloody milk that would not churn. The calves had hollow horns. Haste was made to a better creek.

The third inhabitant battened a door on a large wooden hinge with the latch lifted from the outside by the string. South and east windows opening were sawn and sashes fashioned. The primeval cabin was weather boarded over. That occupant worked at the Bacon & Negley saw-mill on Fall Creek near Millersville.

The saw mill was just down stream from Ballenger's mill which had a still house. Ballenger’s mill was a source of annoyance to all. It was badly built and badly rebuilt when destroyed by fire three times. It had the good fortune of being up water from the prosperous Bacon & Negley saw-mill. Bacon & Negley’s dam backed up water against Ballenger's mill. Ballenger sued Bacon & Negley for damages. Bacon was worth nothing. Negley compromised the case at a sacrifice of two eighty-acre tracts of land, the mill, two horses and a wagon. The occupant of the cabin lost his job.

Ballenger's lawyer ran the mill for years until Ballenger sold out to Leverton, who sold to the Trues, who sold to Brubaker, who sold to Brother Winpenny. Winpenny rebuilt the mill and distillery. At no time during its history was the mill more successfully managed than when operated by Winpenny. After several years, Winpenny died. The mill suspended business and the still was removed. Not long after, the tracts sold at foreclosure.

John Steinmeier was the buyer. The cabin stood on one of the eighty-acre tracts. Steinmeier had traveled to the ravine by horseback to burn the cabin so as to keep squatters out. Instead, the effort of loosening the cabin’s strata found within him a dear sentiment. The cabin had withstood a succession of striving and strife. Kindred folk had kept the cabin secure from the almost impervious wilderness. It’s hollows held promise. Steinmeier vowed to keep the cabin as memory of the fellowship of Brother Winpenny. Steinmeier untethered his horse and rode back to his wife.