When Valentine Brother, the grandfather of Civil War Marine, Charles Brother, was a teenager, his father scrambled to collect payment from his customers. Hard currency was rare. His neighbors had exhausted each other. It was time to go where the customers were hungry and highly motivated to buy—the new frontier—Kentucky, which would not be established until 1792.
Maryland Chronicle, or Universal Advertiser (Frederick, Maryland) September 12, 1787
Before dawn they packed the wagon: pots, weapons, blankets, flour, whiskey, and axes. Valentine wanted to go along, but his older brother held the reins. Valentine held the bookkeeper’s journal, still scrambling to log the inventory as the final rope was knotted.
Despite early vigilance to mind the store, Valentine soon tired of the women, the gossip, and the crying babies. He helped himself to the pantry, even sharing with the customers, allowing their appetites to “window shop” with flexible terms.
When the men returned, Valentine saw their sunburnt faces. He wondered, how come even sick and wet, the men have a sparkle in their eye? He wiped his apron and, when eyes fell on him for his sad report, he blamed the patrons, even knowing that it would take years, perhaps the rest of his childhood, for his father to collect the payments.
Mr. Brother listened, but calmly put on those same caked boots and walked out the tavern’s back door towards the woods. Apparently, he wanted another go in the wilderness compared to facing his pathetic son. Silence makes everything worse; Valentine thought, still wanting to tell a story.
At night, finally, with nowhere else to go, in that bottom-of-the-dry-pail, chalky with rust, against that poverty of affection, Valentine determined to never fall asleep on guard again. This is when Federicktown’s future sheriff and quartermaster was formed.
No lippy con-artist would ever fool him again.