Posts

Adam Sherrill’s Ride: From King’s Mountain to Boyd’s Creek

/in /by

In the chill December of 1780, in the midst of a three-pronged attack against the British-aligned Cherokees, Adam Sherrill’s horse suddenly stumbled on the frozen ground near Boyd’s Creek. The rider was thrown hard amid a sharp engagement with a Cherokee war party. Pain exploded through his chest as several ribs snapped. Before he could rise, a Cherokee warrior sprang upon him, tomahawk raised for the kill. In that frozen instant, a ball from a comrade’s rifle found its mark. The attacker fell. Adam, gasping, was pulled to safety by his fellow Overmountain Men. The wound would heal, but the memory of that narrow escape—and the hard service that preceded it—would stay with him for the rest of his long life.

Lying on the rough pallet as his ribs knit together in the weeks that followed, Adam Sherrill had time to think. Time to let his mind travel back across the mountains to the journey that had brought him and his family to this hard-won victory—and forward with worry about what lay ahead for those still in the field.

The pain in his side was sharp, yet it paled beside the fire of remembrance and the ache of concern. For Adam had marched not alone, but shoulder to shoulder with his brothers George and Samuel Jr., alongside their father Samuel Wilson Sherrill Sr., and with his brother-in-law Colonel John Sevier in one of the most remarkable campaigns of the Revolutionary War.

The Journey to King’s Mountain


By 1780, Adam Sherrill, born in 1758 on the Yadkin River country of North Carolina, had already put down roots in the Watauga settlements of what would become Washington County, Tennessee. Like his brother George, he had signed the Watauga Petition in 1776, declaring the mountain people’s desire for order and protection. His brother Samuel Jr. stood with them as well. In late September of that fateful year, the brothers—Adam, George, and Samuel Jr.—along with their father, rendezvoused with Colonel John Sevier’s regiment (their brother-in-law through sister Catherine “Bonny Kate” Sherrill) at Sycamore Shoals in Carter County. There, amid the crisp autumn air and the gathering of rugged frontier riflemen, the Overmountain Men prepared to cross the Blue Ridge. The family marched as a unit of resolve. The march itself was legendary: steep mountain trails, cold rains, dwindling rations, and the knowledge that they had left their own families exposed to Indian raids. Yet they pressed on, linking with other North Carolina militia before descending on King’s Mountain on October 7. There, on that rocky knob in South Carolina, the Overmountain Men unleashed a fierce, close-quarters battle. Adam, George, Samuel Jr., and their father fought in the thick of it under Sevier as Ferguson’s command disintegrated. When the smoke cleared, Ferguson lay dead, more than 700 of his men were captured or killed, and the tide of the Southern Campaign had turned. The victory at King’s Mountain would later be called the “turning point” that led to Yorktown. For the Sherrill brothers and their father, it was simply the day they stood with kin and neighbors to help save the frontier. After the battle, they marched the prisoners up to near Gilbert’s Town in North Carolina, then on to Morganton in Burke County, before returning home. These were just a couple of the many hard engagements fought to carve out the frontier they would call home.

Return to Boyd’s Creek, Recovery, and Concern


As Adam’s ribs slowly mended after Boyd’s Creek, he could take satisfaction in the broader campaign that secured the western settlements. Yet a fresh worry gnawed at him. Still sidelined by his injuries, he could not join the continued march south with George, his brother-in-law John Sevier, and the other friends and family who pressed onward. Reinforced by Virginia troops under Colonel Arthur Campbell, they crossed the Tennessee River toward Hiwassee, destroying Cherokee towns in a punishing expedition that lasted into the new year. Adam’s concern for their safety weighed heavily during his recovery—another chapter in the family’s shared sacrifice on the volatile frontier.

Closing Reflection


Adam Sherrill would go on to marry his second wife Rebecca Kilgore in Washington County in 1789 (daughter of one of the five Kilgores of Kings Mountain), raise a family, and eventually settle at the Head of Sequatchie (Gravelly Spur area) in what became Cumberland County, Tennessee. His brother George would later recount their shared service in a pension application, preserving the memory of the Carter County rendezvous, the march to King’s Mountain, and the hard fighting that followed. Their father Samuel’s quiet participation and Samuel Jr.’s steadfast presence added further layers of family resolve. Adam died in 1827.

He left no pension application of his own, yet his service—marked by the triumph at King’s Mountain, the near-fatal moment at Boyd’s Creek, and the anxious wait while loved ones marched to Hiwassee—lives on in the stories passed down through his descendants.

In the quiet moments of recovery on that winter pallet, Adam understood what many patriots felt: the Revolution was not won in grand declarations alone, but in broken ribs, long mountain marches, rifle shots that saved a brother’s life, and the quiet worry of those left behind.

Adam Sherrill is the maternal fourth great grandfather of the author. You can learn more about his descendants in the books of Randall Franks in our store, such as A Mountain Pearl.

A Narrow Escape from the Battle of Wyoming

/in /by

Retreating on foot through the smoke and chaos, young Sergeant Giles Parman pulled his musket close and slipped into an overgrown thicket, using a fallen oak log as cover. Three Iroquois warriors passed within yards of him, their war cries echoing as they hunted stragglers. That desperate moment of survival would haunt him for the rest of his life.

One of the greatest motivating forces in wartime is the stories of fellow countrymen who suffer at the hands of the enemy. My 6th great-grandparents, Giles and Elizabeth Parman, lived such a story—one deeply interwoven with one of the Revolutionary War’s most devastating frontier defeats.

The Battle of Wyoming, also known as the Wyoming Massacre, occurred on July 3, 1778. What began as a military engagement soon became a sensationalized horror that spread across the colonies, fueling outrage and patriotic resolve.

Giles Franklin Parman Sr. (SAR Patriot # P-265930), born in 1758 in the Wyoming Valley, and his wife Elizabeth Penn were raising two young children on their roughly 100-acre homestead in the Plymouth District. At the time, this area was part of Northampton County, Pennsylvania (later Luzerne County). The Wyoming Valley itself formed a fertile, canoe-shaped corridor stretching 20 to 25 miles along the North Branch of the Susquehanna River and measuring about 3 to 6 miles wide between the flanking Appalachian mountain ridges.

Word of the invading force spread rapidly through the valley’s tight-knit farming communities. A mixed army of British-allied Loyalist Rangers—about 110 men under Major John Butler—and roughly 460–600 Iroquois warriors, primarily Seneca led by chiefs Sayenqueraghta (Old Smoke) and Cornplanter, had entered the northern valley around June 30–July 1. They quickly overran smaller outposts, destroying farms, running off livestock, and killing or capturing some residents in the prelude to the main assault.

At about age 19–20, Giles was already serving in the Pennsylvania militia, which required all able-bodied men aged 18–53 to answer the call. As a sergeant in the Northampton County Militia, he likely led a small squad of 10–20 local farmers. With his own homestead threatened and his young family at risk, he probably loaded Elizabeth and the children into a wagon and hurried them to the safety of Forty Fort (near modern Kingston/Wilkes-Barre), the main Patriot stronghold, before mustering with his men.

Inside Forty Fort, a heated debate raged among the roughly 375 Patriot defenders (five companies of militia plus a small Continental detachment). Lieutenant Colonel Zebulon Butler, a Continental officer home on furlough, and Colonel Nathan Denison urged caution, advising the men to remain behind the stockade and await reinforcements. Hot-headed subordinates, including Captain Lazarus Stewart, demanded an immediate offensive to protect homes and families. The majority voted to march out.

On the hot afternoon of July 3, the Patriot force—accompanied by fife and drum playing “St. Patrick’s Day in the Morning”—advanced northward from Forty Fort to open ground near Kingston. Giles and his men joined the formation as the Patriots established a battle line and initially pushed back the Loyalist Rangers with disciplined volleys. The crack of musket fire filled the air, but the line’s terrifying collapse soon became apparent amid smoke and screams as the right flank gave way under the hidden assault by Iroquois warriors.

Giles and his squad were suddenly inundated by war cries and a galling fire that shattered the Patriot line. The battle turned into a chaotic rout within 30–45 minutes. Panic spread as men fled toward the river, woods, or forts. Historical estimates place Patriot deaths at 160–300 or more in the fighting and immediate pursuit, with many scalped or killed while trying to escape. Loyalist and Iroquois losses remained light.

Giles survived the battle and made a desperate way back toward his family, with pursuers close behind. The scene around him was one of horror—neighbors cut down, the valley’s defenders broken in what colonists quickly called a “massacre.”

The exact path Giles and his young family took in the immediate aftermath has been lost to time. Did they remain sheltered in Forty Fort? Or did they risk returning briefly to their Plymouth District homestead to salvage what they could?

On July 4, Colonel Denison surrendered the fort under terms negotiated with Major Butler: the defenders would not take up arms again, and private property would ostensibly be respected. Family accounts and lore suggest Giles continued fighting for a total of about seven years in militia service (a figure repeated alongside his friend Michael Girdner), so he may not have been present for the formal surrender—allowing him to keep defending the region without strictly honoring the agreement.

Despite the capitulation, discipline among some Iroquois warriors broke. In the hours and days that followed, scattered killings, plundering, and burnings occurred across the valley. Homes and farms were looted and torched; livestock was driven off. While Major Butler largely restrained his white troops and claimed no non-combatants were harmed, the frontier reality included real brutality and revenge—motivated in part by earlier Patriot raids on Iroquois villages. Exaggerated tales of atrocities (including stories of the debated “Bloody Rock”) spread rapidly through colonial newspapers, inflaming public fury and helping inspire the 1779 Sullivan Expedition against the Iroquois.

Giles and Elizabeth helped bury and mourn neighbors and friends. They endured the “Great Runaway”—the desperate flight of hundreds of women, children, and elderly into the mountains and swamps, where many perished from exposure. Giles continued militia duties protecting the frontier through much of the remaining war, a common pattern for Northampton County men focused on local defense rather than distant Continental campaigns.

After the war, the family remained in Pennsylvania for a time. Giles sold and migrated westward around 1792–1793 to Greene County, Tennessee, settling along the Nolichucky River. There he served as a justice of the peace, road overseer, election inspector, and helped found the Flat Branch/New Providence Baptist Church in 1803. Elizabeth died before January 10, 1799. Giles then remarried Phoebe (Gilbert) Woolsey. Across both marriages, he raised roughly 11–12 children. Later, the family moved to Knox County, Kentucky (near modern Corbin), where Giles received a land grant, built a plantation on the Cumberland River, and raised horses. He died there in 1832.

Giles represents the archetypal Revolutionary frontier Patriot: an ordinary young farmer and family man thrust into extraordinary circumstances. Unlike officers or Continental soldiers in major eastern battles, he and thousands like him in the Pennsylvania and New York back country fought a grinding, personal war of home defense against raids that blurred the lines between military action and civilian terror. His survival at Wyoming, continued service, and subsequent life as a community leader and westward migrant embody the Revolutionary promise—defending liberty on the edge of settlement, then helping build new communities in Tennessee and Kentucky as the nation expanded. Giles’s life mirrors the resilience of countless unsung Patriots who paid the price for the freedoms that followed.

Read more of Randall’s writings in his others books found at Randall Franks Store .

Frontier Guardians : A Legacy of Patriot Sacrifice

/in /by
In the quiet hills of Ottway, Greene County, Tennessee, the small Malone Cemetery guards a powerful story of generational sacrifice. Here lie two Revolutionary-era veterans: John Joseph Malone Sr. (1724–1783) and his son, John Malone Jr. (1752–1823). Father and son, buried side by side, their graves mark not just a family plot, but a testament to the raw courage that secured America’s western frontier.
John Joseph Malone Sr.’s path to patriotism began in Somerset County, Maryland, where he was born and raised a family with wife Sarah Hart. As colonial tensions simmered, he saw early militia duty in Maryland: in 1757 or 1758, he served in Captain Thomas Norris’ Company, with payment delayed until 1767 (£1 10s for 30 days of attendance). Before long, the pull of western lands drew him southward. By 1774, records place him—and remarkably, his young adult son—in the thick of Lord Dunmore’s War, a brutal prelude to the Revolution.
Serving together in Captain David Looney’s Company of Virginia militia (from Fincastle County), the Malones helped defend settlers against Shawnee raids over the Ohio Valley. Their unit was assigned to guard the Clinch River frontier, patrolling under Lieutenants Daniel Boone, Gilbert Christian, and John Cox to protect settlements while the main Virginia forces engaged elsewhere.
Notably, John Sr.’s other sons, William (b. ~1759) and George (b. ~1760), also served in this conflict, contributing to the family’s collective defense efforts.
The broader war exploded on October 10, 1774, at the Battle of Point Pleasant—a thunderous clash at the confluence of the Ohio and Kanawha Rivers. In foggy dawn light, Chief Cornstalk’s 300–500 warriors attempted a surprise assault on Colonel Andrew Lewis’s 1,100 Virginians. What followed was a ferocious all-day fight: rifle fire cracking through the trees, warriors shouting war cries from concealed positions, militiamen holding lines in desperate hand-to-hand combat.Cornstalk himself rallied his men with the legendary cry, “Be strong! Be strong!” Yet the Virginians prevailed, though at grievous cost—75 killed and 140 wounded in what some called the bloodiest frontier battle against Native forces. The victory forced a treaty opening Kentucky to settlement and stoked revolutionary fires against British policies seen as favoring Native allies.
By the mid-1770s, the Malones had migrated to the Holston River settlements (future eastern Tennessee). In 1775, a John Malone (likely Sr. or Jr.) appeared in Captain George Matthews’ Company from Augusta County, Virginia, amid escalating patriot mobilizations.
In 1777, John Sr. joined fellow settlers in signing a bold petition affirming patriot loyalty and seeking North Carolina’s protection amid Tory and Cherokee threats. Throughout the Revolutionary War, his service shifted to vital local defense: scouting raids, guarding forts, and holding the volatile frontier where British-incited attacks nearly unraveled the southern cause.
Evoking the rugged riflemen of the 1770s backcountry—ordinary farmers like Malone, armed with long rifles and unyielding resolve.
Malone did not live to see final victory, dying in 1783—the year peace was signed—and resting in the cemetery that bears his name. His son, also a veteran, joined him decades later. Both received postwar land grants for their service.
Though not always listed in early official DAR rolls, their patriot status endures through grave markers, militia records (including those qualifying some descendants for modern SAR/DAR membership), and family tradition.
In an era of Yorktown glory, the Malones remind us: Liberty was won in forgotten riverbank battles and watchful frontier nights, often by fathers and sons standing together.
As America’s 250th anniversary nears, stories like this call us to remember the hidden heroes in our own family trees. Who fought unseen in yours?
Read more about his family in A Mountain Pearl : Appalachian Reminiscing and Recipes available at www.RandallFranks.com/Store .
John Joseph Malone, Sr. is the maternal sixth great grandfather of the author.