William Smeathers

William "Bill" Smeathers (c. 1767 – August 13, 1837), also known as Smithers or Smothers, was a pioneer settler of Kentucky and later Texas.

Early Life

The name of this remarkable pioneer has been variously spelled and pronounced, as Smeather, Smeathers, Smither, Smithers, Smothers, etc., but Smither was probably correct; and "Bill" is supposed, of course, to stand for William. The above is the name by which he was familiarly called. He was born on the western frontier of Virginia, near the Holston River. His father was a hunter, and frequently took his son with him to assist in bringing home the game. One morning he started at daylight, telling his wife that he would take a little round and be back to breakfast. As he did not return, a search was made for him. His body was found about two miles from home, nearly devoured by the wild beasts; but the narrow blade of an Indian tomahawk had been driven deep into his brain. His wife was so deeply affected by his death that she lived only nine days, and was placed in death where she had been in life—close by the side of her husband. William was so upset that he did not close his eyes in sleep during the night that followed her burial. Before day he went out, and standing by their graves, boy as he was, he raised his hand to Heaven and swore that he would devote his life to the destruction of the Indian race. And well did he keep that vow, for he never saw an Indian that he did not shoot at, and he very seldom missed his aim. He felt very conscientious about killing a squaw, and rejoiced that it was never his misfortune to meet with one.

William was twelve years old at the time of his parents' death. There were also two other children: James, aged nine, and Mollie, aged seven. One of the neighbors, a new-comer, having no place of his own, proposed to take care of these orphan children for the rent of the farm. This was agreed upon and he moved in. During that same year, William went to live with an uncle in Virginia, who agreed to give him a good education, and $100 in money when he became of age. This uncle, whose name was Chrisman, was a man who worshiped the rich and scorned the poor. He was so cruel and overbearing to his orphan nephew that the latter ran away from him in a few years. He wandered through the country, stopping wherever he could find anything to do, but found his stock of money was growing less and less every day. He was in a little town called Taylorville, near the Catawba River, when Colonel Shelby came through beating up for volunteers, and William joined him because he knew not what else to do. At that time the British had a military post on King's Mountain, so named from the fact that it stands alone, overlooking the country on all sides. It was at this point that the battle of King's Mountain was fought between the British and Colonel Shelby's men. The latter were successful, having killed Ferguson and a great many of his men, captured 1,000 prisoners, 2,000 muskets, and all their military stores, and lost very few of their own men.

After his discharge, William again wandered around the country until the following spring, when he was taken by a squad of men belonging to General Green's command, who had been sent out to press teamsters to drive the wagons. Although Smeathers was exempt from the duties of teamster, he was detained until after the battle of Guilford Court-House was fought, and was then discharged. After this he could find no employment and concluded to return to James River and visit his uncle and friends in that vicinity. But his uncle forgot to give him the $100, although he was twenty-one and had a very good education. He bade him good-bye, and started for his native town to visit his brother and sister. He found them still living with the man who had taken the farm. This man had a daughter whom Smothers courted one Sunday evening, and married the next Thursday. He was very anxious to proceed immediately to Kentucky, but his wife and sister insisted that the snow and ice on the mountains would endanger their lives; so the move was postponed until spring.

Arrival in Kentucky

On his arrival in Kentucky, he found the region around Lexington more densely settled than the country he had left on the Holston. He had come to fight the Indians, and did not feel like taking wages as a hand on a farm. He met a party who were coming down to fortify in the Green River country, and joined them at once. They built a fort at Hartford, on Rough Creek. When they were besieged they found that the Indians generally came from lower Kentucky, wading Green River at the falls. They established a fort there and called it Vienna. At first, of course, it was only a fort; afterward a town was laid out there and it was named Vienna. It is now called Calhoun. The father of William and Thomas Downs, a Baptist preacher, was the last man killed by the Indians here, which was between 1790-92, within a few hundred yards of the fort. The section of the country about Vienna was settled up fully ten years before Bill Smeathers came to Owensboro; the Indians seldom came in great force afterward, and they soon scattered. Mrs. Smothers lived only a few years after moving to Kentucky, and died, leaving two daughters and one son. Miss Mollie Smothers remained with her brother many years.

Settling at Yellow Banks

Smeathers, not liking the dense settlements around Hartford and Vienna, came to the Yellow Banks and built a cabin on the banks of the Ohio. This was about the beginning of the present century. The cabin was of round logs and had two doors; from one he had a view of the Ohio, and from the other he looked into his garden. On the lower side of the house there was a shed-room, which was made by extending the main roof, being enclosed by slabs of timber planted in the ground. About four feet of a single log was cut out to make a passway into the room. In it he deposited his peltries and groceries, and when he entertained a large company, which was frequently the case, it was converted into a bed-chamber, more agreeable in cold than warm weather, owing to the abundance of deer and bear skins and buffalo robes which were kept there.

Nature had been liberal in her gifts to Smeathers. In personal courage he was inferior to no man, and he was endowed with a good understanding. The operations of his mind were quick, and there was a sprightliness and point in his conceptions which never failed to interest the listener. In conversation, he rarely descended to vulgarity, and never affected the coarse manner or rude speech of the ruffian. His voice, like his mind, was clear and distinct; and if he had received a thorough education he would have been a shining light in the land. But his love of fun was his controlling passion, and led him into many improprieties and may have clouded his memory with crime. In person, he was five feet eleven inches high; his hair and beard were dark brown; his eyes were prominent and a clear, deep blue ; his complexion was fair; and the expression of his countenance was playful and intelligent. Whatever he did seemed to be performed deliberately. He spoke the truth, except when he was planning some mischief, and then his fertile imagination readily invented whatever was necessary to the success of his scheme. On these occasions he could invent the most marvelous and miraculous lies, giving all the particulars and attendant circumstances. Incredulity itself would be silenced by his earnestness of tone and his minuteness of detail.

Smothers was delighted with his new home at the Yellow Banks. He was in search of a good hunting-ground for himself, and good range for his horse and cow; and in these respects his situation could not have been improved. From Panther Creek to the Ohio River, and from Green River to Blackford, he was the only inhabitant. He roamed the forest alone and slaughtered the game at pleasure. The necessaries and even the luxuries of life were furnished to him at his very door. The barges, as they were slowly cordelled by their armed crews, would stop and give him salt, flour and groceries, in exchange for dried venison, bear-meat and buffalo robes. No man below the falls could furnish so sumptuous a meal, and no man ever entertained with more genuine hospitality. The visitors had a general partiality for "old rye" and "flour bread," as these articles were unknown in the interior. At the conclusion of one of his repasts, a man called "Leather-legs" wiped his mouth on the skirt of his hunting shirt, and remarked: "Smothers, I believe I will pull up stakes where I am, and come down here." This observation cast a shade over the countenance of Smeathers, but he quickly replied, assuring his friend that the unhealthfulness of the climate would greatly endanger his life; "and besides," said Smothers, "I intend paying you a visit on Pond River, and taking a long tramp in the hills; I like to hunt in the hills; the water is so much better than it is in the bottoms, and then you are clear of the black gnats, mosquitoes and gallinippers that swarm in these flats." "Stop, Smeathers," said Leather-legs, "you are taking a great deal of pains to tell me that you don't want me here. I won't come; if I break up I will go to the mouth of the Wolf, or to the Red Banks." "Well, then," said Smeathers, "we will be neighbors, and I will call and see you at either point."

Reaction to Additional Settlement

The remark of Leather-legs made a deep impression upon the mind of Smeathers. It proved to him that others were at least thinking of intruding themselves into the small boundaries which he had assigned to himself; that the 150,000 acres of land which he had enjoyed as a hunting-ground would be occupied by other men; that settlements would be made, farms opened, and the game driven away or destroyed, and that he would be left in his old age without the means of support, in the country from which he had expelled the Indians. He did not spend his time in gloomy despondency, but, like a true man, resolved to make every effort to avert the awful train of calamities which he saw at no great distance before him. A surveyor's chain he regarded with particular abhorrence, and, if opportunity presented, he would place it where it would never be stretched again; corner trees, he thought, ought not to stand, as they would be the starting points for subdivision. It will not be stated that he ever cut one, but many were missing. He determined also that his house should present fewer attractions. His table, instead of luxuries, was supplied with the simplest and coarsest fare of the hunter. He almost deserted his home, wandering weeks and months together in the woods. He hunted deer and bear on this side of the river, killing as many as he wished, and twice a year he took an Indian hunt on the other side, where he was equally as successful. Sleepless days and nights would be spent to get a shot; and at every crack of his rifle an Indian fell.

The melancholy and dreadful news, against which he would have gladly closed his ears, at last saluted Smeathers, that at least twenty families had arrived upon his territory, and were then preparing to build houses and open plantations. The surveyor with his compass and chain was making new lines; the axe was busily plied in felling his trees; and the wedge lustily driven was riving his oaks. His lines had been broken and he was surrounded. In anguish and bitterness of spirit he contemplated his situation, and no ray of light broke through the dark cloud which enveloped him. At first he had almost resolved upon a hostile demonstration, but the number of the emigrants and the respectability of a portion of them, convinced him of the absolute folly and madness of such a course. Like all brave men, when fairly driven to the wall, he made up his mind to meet his fate with fortitude, and, making a virtue of necessity, he determined to cultivate the good opinion of the new comers by a friendly visit to them. Near Blackford he called upon Ely and Natty Bell. At the house of the latter he was agreeably surprised to find his brother James, who was laying siege to Bell's sister-in-law; she capitulated shortly afterward and they were married. In his circuit he saw Barker and Killenbarger, Holmark and Holinhead, Jones and Jordan, Glenn and Gentry, and on his return home he heard the axe of Felty Husk, who was cutting logs to build a house near the residence of Thomas H. Painter. Husk and Smothers afterward contracted a friendship which closed only with their lives.

Charged with Murder

Until this point, there had been no legal tribunals in this section, and might had generally constituted right. But Anthony Thompson was commissioned and qualified as a Justice of the Peace for Nelson County. He lived a few miles to the west of Vienna, and his district was about as large as six of our present counties. Thompson had a clear head, an iron will, and the kindliest feelings toward the whole human family. The uneasiness which Smeathers experienced at the appointment of a magistrate in such close proximity to himself gradually faded away. Five years of impunity convinced him that Squire Thompson was his friend; and although he had never seen him, he began to like the man, but rather preferred that Panther Creek should still continue to run between them. One day Thompson called upon Smeathers and they were so well pleased with one another that they became great friends. One sultry evening as the last rays of the setting sun were playing upon a bank of cloud, fringing its outline in purple and gold, Smeathers and his sister sat upon the doorsteps enjoying the cool air, and silently enjoying the splendors of the scene. Unnoticed by them, a keelboat had made fast at the landing, and several of the men were already in the yard. The foremost, a man by the name of Norris, was of Herculean proportions, and it was the boast of the crew that hee had never met a match in a fisticuff from Louisville to New Orleans. Miss Mollie left the side of her brother and entered the house. When they approached, Smeathers arose from his seat and invited them to walk in. They indulged themselves in such freedom of remark that Miss Mollie concluded she could not remain with propriety and ran to the house of Felty Husk. Smeathers, who had not observed the absence of his sister, remonstrated with them in mild but very decided terms upon their unbecoming and unworthy behavior. The firmness of his manner, and the truth of what he said, made an impression upon the boatmen. Six of the number upon leaving the house called to Norris to come and go to the boat. He told them to go on and that he would be along directly, but he never went. In the dim twilight Smothers saw ten or twelve of the crew ascending the bank in a line to his house. Retreating by the back door, he concealed himself in a bed of strawberries which grew in his garden. When they entered and beheld the lifeless body of their comrade and friend extended upon the floor, with the warm blood still trickling from two ghastly wounds, their rage and indignation knew no bounds. They threatened to hunt for Smeathers until they found him, and to slay him at sight. Perceiving that they were searching and ransacking the house, and expecting them in the garden, he left his hiding place and spent the night in the woods. At daylight the next morning he knocked at the door of Ben Duncan, Esq., who lived on Pup Creek, ten miles above Yellow Banks. He informed 'Squire Duncan of the nature of the charges which had been made against him on the night previous and demanded a judicial investigation. 'Squire Duncan summoned the boatmen as witnesses and opened his Court of Inquiry. In answer to the summons, the crew came in a body to the house of the justice. Many of them were armed, and declared it to be their intention to seize the prisoner and hang him to a tree. But the friends of Smeathers were there, and no man had more friends or truer friends than he had. They told the boatmen if they opened the ball in blood that the sun of that day would shine on many a corpse; that Smeathers had surrendered himself to the officers of the law and was a prisoner; that they could give their evidence if they had any, but if a hand was raised in violence they would resist it to the death. As they were prepared to make their words good the examination went on smoothly and quietly. The court decided that the offense was available, and required Smeathers to give bond and security for his appearance on the first day of the next term of the Ohio (now Daviess) Circuit Court. The bond was immediately filled by the prisoner and a number of securities, and after recognizing the witnesses the court adjourned. Smeathers, with six of his chosen friends, returned to his home. The boat was still at the landing, but the war was not renewed.

The Trial

Smeathers was much perplexed in mind upon the subject of employing good counsel to argue his case before the Circuit Court. For all minor offenses he had appeared in his own behalf, and had been uniformly successful; but in a case which involved the question of his life or death, he was unwilling to trust himself. But he was poor, and lawyers' fees were high, and he knew not well what to do. His anxieties about the matter were happily relieved. The great advocate, Joseph H. Daveiss, knew Smeathers well, and admired him greatly for that indomitable courage which never had been known to quail in the presence of danger. He heard, at Frankfort, of the affair, and sent Smeathers a message which was characteristic of the man: "Don't ruin yourself hiring lawyers. I will be with you on the day of the trial." Smothers knew his man, and relied upon the promise with implicit confidence. The fame of Jo Daveiss as an orator and the wide-spread acquaintance of the accused brought a concourse to court, such as had never been seen in Hartford before. The keelboatmen from Louisville were there, and strangers from a circuit of 100 miles were in attendance, curious to see Bill Smeathers, and anxious to hear Jo Daveiss. The trial itself was likely to be one of surpassing interest and remarkable singularity. Only two lawyers would appear, and they were brothers. As soon as the sheriff had made proclamation that the "court was open," Smeathers tendered himself in discharge of his bond, and took a seat within the bar. John Daveiss, the Prosecuting Attorney for the district, was much interrupted in his duties during the day by repeated questions concerning his brother: "Where is he?" "When do you think he'll be here?" " Maybe he will not come at all." And a variety of inquiries and speculations saluted him wherever he went. On Monday night, Jo Daveiss stayed at the house of Stephen Stateler, four miles from Hartford, and on Tuesday morning he and Stateler walked into town. Court was already in session, and was devoting the usual hour to motions. Stateler and Daveiss sat upon a bench in a remote corner, engaged in conversation. Stateler was much the taller man of the two, but they were dressed alike in blue jeans, and to all appearances were a couple of sensible farmers. Stateler had no idea that he was talking to Jo Daveiss, but still he was strangely fascinated by his company. When Judge Broadnax had disposed of the motions, he opened the docket and called the case of the Commonwealth versus William Smither, alias Bill Smothers. John Daveiss was up stairs with the Grand Jury, and of course made no response to the call. Stateler's companion left him and took a seat by the side of his client. Smothers, who was not in the least surprised at the course of his lawyer, shook him warmly by the hand. Broadnax becoming impatient directed the sheriff to summon the attorney for the Commonwealth. John Daveiss walked down stairway, and with his papers in his hand stepped in the doorway where he had a short conference with his witnesses. Broadnax repeated the call of the case with emphasis, and said he wished to be advised if the Commonwealth was ready. John Daveiss, stepping inside the bar, said he believed he would not apply for a continuance, although one important witness had not yet arrived; that he might come during the progress of the trial, and he reserved the privilege of taking his testimony. "What say you, Mr. Smothers?" said his honor. The shrill voice of Jo Daveiss answered, "We are ready for the defense."

John Daveiss, recognizing the voice of his brother, embraced him affectionately, and having introduced him to Broadnax and the bar, proceeded to impanel a jury. The evidence in the main was in accordance with the fact already stated. Jo Daveiss made no labored effort at cross-examination, but permitted the witnesses to make their statements in their own way, sometimes putting a single question to elicit an explanation. When the attorney announced that the testimony was closed in behalf of the Commonwealth, Jo Daveiss exchanged a few words with Smothers, and then rose and said, that his client, from motions of delicacy, had positively refused to introduce his sister, who was the only witness that could state anything material to the defense; that the prosecuting attorney might proceed with his argument to the jury. By the feeling manner in which he made this simple statement, he seemed already to have gained the vantage ground. But John Daveiss was a man of no ordinary ability, and knowing that he had to cope with one of the greatest advocates of this country or the world, he put forth his full strength in his opening speech, endeavoring to forestall the impression which had always attended the powerful efforts of his brother. The evidence was arranged in a masterful manner, and he closed by a spirited and strong appeal to the jury to discharge their sworn duties honestly and faithfully, exhorting them to disregard alike the fame and passion of the orator who was to follow him, and assuring them that whilst the wicked might rejoice at acquittal, all good men would say amen to the condemnation and execution of a marauder, an outlaw, an assassin and a murderer.

That wonderfully eloquent and strangely eccentric man, Jo Daveiss, then rose to address the jury. It was his ambition to do everything after a fashion that nobody else in the world ever had attempted. He was never known to ride to a courthouse, but made his circuit on foot, whilst a negro boy accompanied him on horseback, carrying his papers and clothing in a pair of saddlebags. His manner, his style, his tactics at the bar, were all his own, and they all lie buried with their master in the field of Tippecanoe. No fragment of a speech of his remains today; and from the erring and fading memories of men we derive our only ideas of the inspiration that moved upon the feelings and swayed the passions, until he could drive his triumphal car over any obstacle that might oppose his onward course. Tradition furnishes only a dim outline of his speech in defense of Smothers, which was probably the greatest forensic effort of his life. It was made for a friend, without hope of reward, and the whole power of mind, body and soul were poured forth in his cause.

He commenced as if he had a fee to assist in the prosecution. He reiterated the strong points in the attorney's Speech, and offered additional arguments in favor of conviction. Thee friends of the accused began to whisper that he was a snake in the grass, and that he had come to help his brother, and the eyes of Smothers were raised in calm surprise the face of his counsel. But Daveiss went on urging that an acquittal, under all the circumstances, would be a monstrous outrage upon law and justice, and insisting that the jury ought, without hesitation, to hang the criminal. Adopting all the epithets which had been so liberally bestowed, he called upon them to hang the marauder, hang the outlaw, hang the assassin, hang the murderer. Proof or no proof, let the hangman proceed on his mission of strangulation.

That such, in effect, was the common reasoning of prosecuting attorneys, and lie had been repeating in substance what had fallen from the gentleman who preceded him; but the law was established upon principles precisely of an opposite character. He dwelt upon the tenderness and mercy of the law, and the safeguard it threw around the life and liberty of the citizen. That malice, premeditated malice, was an essential ingredient in making out a case of murder, and without it there was no murder. That if the killing was in sudden heat, it was manslaughter; and if the blow was given in self-defense, or in defense of family and home, then it became a virtue, and was no crime at all.

Without a note he reviewed the evidence from beginning to end, calling the names of the witnesses as he went, and contended that the Commonwealth had tailed to prove that his client had slain the deceased. That he was found dead in the house of the prisoner at the bar, but no man had seen the prisoner inflict the wound. That circumstances, however conclusive they might appear, were frequently deceptive. He read a case in the English Reports where an innocent man had been executed upon circumstantial evidence even stronger than that before the jury, and took the position that the unscrupulous and vindictive prosecutor was guilty of murder, and that the twelve jurors were his aiders and abetters, because they did not require that positive and undeniable proof which leaves no room for a reasonable doubt. That if, in truth, it was the hand of Smothers that directed the blade, the facts in the case warranted the conclusion that the other was the aggressor. That the prisoner was a man of sense and a man of prudence, and never would have sought an encounter with a giant, whose physical force was so great that he had never found an equal; and who had a host of thirty comrades who would have rushed to his call and staked their lives in the quarrel. That the deceased was the aggressor in the beginning, and it was a fair inference that he so continued to the end. That unbidden he had invaded the precincts of the prisoner's home, and in return for civility and hospitality, had offered insult and injury. That his foul, false tongue had aimed to fix the seal of infamy upon the spotless tablet of a maiden sister's fame. That when his companions, impelled by repentance and remorse, had left the house, he lingered upon the spot. That if Smothers had slain him, he slew him in the holy cause of religion and of virtue, and that the King of Heaven had strengthened the arm that drove the pointed steel to his heart.

He paid an eloquent and glowing tribute to the brave pioneers, who, by their toil, sweat and blood, had won the great valley ot the Mississippi from the Indians, and consecrated it to agriculture, to commerce and to the arts. He denounced in terms of the bitterest indignation the deep ingratitude of the Government which suffered them to languish and die in poverty and neglect, whilst all its favors and patronage were lavished upon fawning sycophants and cringing parasites and flatterers, who knelt and worshiped at the footstool of power. That a golden crown had been tendered to Julius Caesar for his victories in Gaul, and for the addition of that province to the Roman territory. That these men had conquered an empire thrice as great and thrice as fertile as Gaul; and neither the charity, nor the bounty, nor the justice of the Government had ever induced it to bestow upon one of them so much as an iron skillet. That a representative of that Government was here today appealing to a jury of the country for the blood of one of the bravest, because he had stood upon the threshold of his rude hut, which was his castle in the eyes of the law, and had defended his family against the licentious and wanton insults of a blackguard and ruffian. Were he in place of his client he would leave his Government, and seek "some boundless contiguity of shade, where the rumor of oppression and of wrong might never reach him more."

That if Smothers had to die, it was meet and appropriate that he should die at Hartford. Hartford had been the theater of his valor, and Hartford should be the scene of his execution. That he came with the party that erected the first fortification; that his hand dug the ditch and planted the palisade; and when the Indians besieged and fired upon you from stump, bush and tree, whose aim was deadliest and whose rifle rang clearest in your defense? And when they were defeated and turned their backs in retreat, who was fleet-footed enough to lead the van in the pursuit? Who hovered around them like a destroying spirit until he had died the waters of your rivers in their blood? Who trailed them to their homes beyond the prairies, and restored your stolen property without ever receiving one cent in compensation? That whatever falsehoods may have been invented and circulated against his client, the forked tongue of slander itself had never charged that his soul had been stained by the sin of avarice. That with ample opportunities of securing an immense landed estate, there was not a foot upon the earth that he could call his own. That while others had enriched themselves by speculation, peculation, violence and fraud, the poverty of Smothers was a vindication of the sterling integrity of the man. That his public service needed no rehearsal. That Isaac Shelby, in a conversation, had endorsed the heroic conduct of the "boy Bill Smothers" at King's Mountain. That he carried in his pocket an honorable discharge from General Green, after the great battle of Eutaw. That after he came to the West, the hills and valleys and the rivers had witnessed activity that never tired, eyes that never slept, and courage that never flinched in the hour of danger. That if they met the demands of the Governmcnt official by the sacrifice of the life of the prisoner, let the martyrdom occur on the mound on which we stand; let the last glance of the departing soldier rest upon the scene where in the vigor of manhood he strove to give peace and security to your homes and firesides; and as his slender form swings in the air, take a long and a last look at the truest and boldest man that ever raised an arm in your defense.

The Verdict

In his charge to the jury, Judge Broadnax himself approved the able lawyer and the upright man. Forgetting the many annoyances of Smothers, he exhorted the jury to look in mercy upon the prisoner, and to give him the benefit of every reasonable doubt. The jury, after a retirement of ten minutes, brought in a verdict of "not guilty."

Life After the Trial

Smothers invited his counsel to go home with him, and Daveiss accepted the invitation. He was so well pleased with the country around Yellow Banks that he settled the place afterward owned by James Rudd, and planted the orchard which stands upon the slope of a hill. His brother, John Daveiss, not long afterward commenced opening the farm upon which the Crutchers subsequently resided, and now owned by Mr. Lostetter, and lived there for many years.

The speech of Jo Daveiss opened to the mind of Smothers a new field of thought and a new object of enmity. All his private and personal animosities were forgotten in the disgust and indignation which he felt toward his Government. Hitherto he had regarded bear-hunting and Indian-fighting as the greatest pleasures of his existence; but he now reflected that he had expended the flower of his youth and the strength of his manhood in destroying wild beasts and savages, that he might increase the power and resources of a Government which had sought his life; and that that Government, with means beyond his power of computation, had failed to make the slightest provision for his wants, and would neglect him to the end. The voice of Jo Daveiss ever sounded in his ears that he ought to seek some shade where he would be free from oppression and from wrong. Brooding in silence over such subjects, he came to the deliberate conclusion that a proper self-respect required him to leave the territory of the United States.

When he arrived at this conviction he confided his purpose to no one, but began to make necessary preparations for his departure. He had always felt a strong partiality for Bob Tarlton and other friends on Rough Creek, and he could not think of going without seeing them; and to make the visit as pleasant as possible he proposed a big bear-hunt. In company with Husk and Glenn, he started with his dogs to go directly to the house of Tarlton. He found Tarlton and his friends in a grand spree. After spending a day with them, they all started on a hunt, which lasted several days. They succeeded in killing a monstrous bear, which they quartered and took to their camp at the Falls of Rough.

Leaving Yellow Banks

On his return to his home, Smothers commenced making active preparations for his departure. About the first of February he went to the house of his brother James, who lived near Blackford, to spend a night with him and bid him a last adieu. When he announced his intention, his brother, overwhelmed by the sudden shock, gave free vent to his sorrow. He considered their separation the greatest calamity that could have befallen him. He clung to him and insisted on going with him. Bill remonstrated with him, "Jim, be a man. If I had been hung at Hartford, I should not have drawn a sigh nor shed a tear, and I don't like to see you crying as if you were a woman or a child."

When Smothers had taken leave of his sister and embraced his brother's children, he stepped out of the door and saw his brother James leading a couple of horses from the stable, and informed him that all hands were going to accompany him home. They remained with him several days. One day at dinner, Smothers informed his brother that he wished to start the next morning at sunrise. Rising from the table they took an affectionate farewell. James and family returned home, and the next morning Smothers, with his three dogs, stepped into his skiff, and they were shoved off by Husk.

From New Orleans to Texas

After a prosperous voyage of two weeks, Smothers landed at New Orleans. He spent one day in that city in purchasing ammunition and embarked on the next, descending the Mississippi toward the delta. He passed through the right hand mouth of that river and entered the Gulf of Mexico; hugging the shore, he rowed along in the direction of Texas. After two or three detentions he rowed into Galveston Bay about the first of May, and spent a month on the Island of Galveston—the only quiet month he had known for forty years. He again started on his journey and this time landed at the mouth of Yeagna Creek, where he began to look about for a permanent home. He selected a place forty miles from the spot where he landed, a place combining more advantages than any other in the country.

Fifteen Years in the Wilderness

For fifteen years, Smothers trod the wilderness alone, except an occasional meeting with an adventurer like himself who was willing to brave the dangers in order to enjoy the pleasures of the chase; and then he made it convenient to separate as soon as possible, believing that it was safest to be alone. He was satisfied with his manner of life, but it was his destiny to return to the habits of civilized life, and in view of his age he did not regret the change.

His Last Years

One of his daughters, Mrs. Berry, a woman of a kind and affectionate disposition, was devotedly attached to her father, and induced her husband to follow him to Texas, that she might at least provide for some of his wants. The tears streamed from her eyes as she beheld his emaciated form and tottering steps. She made every effort and used every argument in her power to induce him to make her house his home that she might care for him in his old age. But her importunate attentions wearied him, and he declared he would never go to see her again as he could have no peace in her house. He was very fond of his grandchildren and spent a great deal of time in play with them. At last Smothers told his daughter that some friends from the Brasses had promised to be at his house early in the fall and that no consideration would induce him to be absent on their arrival. A presentiment that she was seeing her father for the last time overwhelmed her with sorrow at their separation. Even the fortitude of Smothers was shaken by this manifestation of filial affection.

Early in October, his friends started to take the hunt with Smothers. They hitched their horses near a spring, walked up the hill and got over the yard fence. The dogs sallied forth to resist intrusion upon their prostrate master, but they were quieted upon hearing familiar voices. When they entered the house they saw the form of Smothers extended upon a bear skin. He wore a white woolen cap, but his locks and his beard were whiter still. His tomahawk was belted to his side and his open palm rested gently upon the back of his gun which stood in the corner. The active limbs were stiff and cold. The tongue that had urged on the strife was mute. The pulse that had beaten high in the van of battle had ceased to throb. The devoted friend, the implacable enemy, the lion-hearted Smothers was no more.

The hero of the foregoing history is thus noticed by the celebrated Washington Irving in his "Experiences of Ralph Ringwood," who was Governor Duval, of Florida. The latter was hunting in the wilds near Yellow Banks, when he saw a stranger, and the following conversation ensued: "What are you after?" cried he. "Those deer," replied I, pettishly; "but it seems as it they never stand still." Upon that, he burst out laughing. "Where are you from?" said he. "From Richmond." "What! In Old Virginny?" "The same." "And how on earth did you get here?" "I landed at Green River from a broad-horn." "And where are your companions?" "I have none." "What! All alone?" "Yes." " Where are you going?" "Anywhere." "And what have you come for?" "To hunt." "Well," said he, laughingly, "you'll make a real hunter; there's no mistaking that! Have you killed anything?" "Nothing but a turkey; I can't get within shot of a deer; they are always running." "Oh, I'll tell you the secret of that. You're always pushing forward, and starting the deer at a distance, and gaze at those that are scampering; but you must step as slow and silent, and cautious as a cat, and keep your eyes close around you, and look from tree to tree, if you wish to get a chance at deer. But come, go home with me. My name is Bill Smothers; I live not far off; stay with me a little while and I'll teach you how to hunt." I gladly accepted the invitation of honest Bill Smothers. "We soon reached his habitation, a mere log hut, with a square hole for a window, and a chimney made of sticks and clay. Here he lived with a wife and child. He had "girdled" the trees for an acre or two around, preparatory to clearing a space for corn and potatoes. In the meantime, he maintained his family entirely by his rifle, and I soon found him to be a first-rate huntsman. Under his tutelage, I received my first effective lessons in "woodcraft."

After I had passed ten or twelve days with Bill Smothers, I thought it time to shift my quarters, for his home was scarce large enough for his own family, and I had no idea of being an encumbrance to any one. I accordingly made up my bundle, shouldered my rifle, took a friendly leave of Smothers and his wife, and set out in quest of a Nimrod of the wilderness, one John Miller, who lived alone, nearly forty miles off, and who I hoped, would be well pleased to have a hunting companion.

Source: History of Daviess County, Kentucky. Chicago: Interstate Publishing Co., 1883. Print.