On a mountain farm on Middle Fork of Blue Creek in an obscure spot of tangled blackberry vines and old leaf mould are three graves. The long grave is that of Jake Pinson who once owned the farm. In the short graves are his two small children, Philip and Blythe who died with him and were buried the same day. in 1861.

Few know that the graves are there, or the story of the tragedy that took their lives; a story that lives on as a folktale in the region.

Jake Pinson, a native of Kentucky, came to Blue Creek before the Civil War and married Mary Belcher, who bore him eleven children. His two story log house was isolated and the few neighbors in the region avoided him because of his churlish manners and close-fisted dealings.

He was unfriendly, suspicious, of a violent temper, possessed a bitter tongue and a quarrelsome disposition. He was subject to black moody spells that suggest a deranged mind. His family feared him, his wife living in constant dread of his outbursts. That he also read the Scriptures and harangued at church services gives a pretty fair picture of him.

When the Civil War began, and Federal forces occupied the valley and sent armed patrols up the creeks, most of the farmers accepted the situation, though some had sent sons into the Confederate Army. To Jake Pinson, the presence of the Yankees was unbearable. They had brought about a division in his family that challenged his tyrannical power and made him secretly afraid.

Mrs. Pinson's family, the Belchers, were Union sympathizers. One of Pinson's sons had joined the Union Army and his eldest daughter, Morning Pinson, had married a Yankee soldier. Jake, a rabid Southern sympathizer, began a one-man war on the invaders. His outspoken remarks frightened the neighbors who shunned him. He met secretly with some Webster County bushwhackers and collected guns and ammunition for them, which he stored at his home. Everyone knew he was in for trouble. Mrs. Pinson decided to help it along.

On a Saturday, Pinson had gone to market with some ginseng to barter and remarked at the store that he wanted some Yankee bait, meaning bullets. That remark was reported to the Yankees. Mrs. Pinson had sent word to her brother, Bill Belcher, about Jake's activities. Belcher reported to the Yankees also.

On his way home, Jake met Lorenza Hill, who remarked on the beautiful red sunset. Jake replied "It will be redder than hell by tomorrow night."

On Sunday at church, Jake met some neighbors who told him of rumors that he would soon be arrested. He began to rage "I'll kill every damn Yank that comes into my yard. They'll never take me."

He ate dinner at home alone in silence. He was in one of his black moods. The children kept to another room, but Mrs. Pinson served him, and occasionally looked out the door. She explained that she thought a hawk was after her chickens. While he ate, a neighbor, Mrs Wills came in and as she stood talking to Mrs Pinson, she suddenly cried out. 'Oh, Mr. Pinson, look at all the Yankees coming down the mountain."

Pinson ran up the steps to the second floor, grabbed a loaded rifle and went to the end window. A Yankee officer approached the house. Jake shot him dead, a bullet in his brain. The soldiers took cover and opened heavy fire on the house.

Mrs Wills and Mrs Pinson huddled in the back room with the children. Jake opened up his store of guns and returned the fire. Smoke filled the cabin. Volley after volley sent minie balls through the doors, windows and through the chinking of the logs. One ball entered the front room, went through a stone in the chimney and into the next room where it killed little Phil. Another shot killed baby Blythe Pinson.

Mrs Pinson screamed, Stop, Stop! I am a Union woman. You are killing my children! The soldiers only crept closer to the house and continued firing. By having several guns loaded, Pinson had given the impression of having several men in the house. When his fire slackened, the soldiers began to hear the women screaming and the children crying. They demanded Pinson's surrender. Mrs Wills tried to persuade Pinson to surrender, but he shouted "They will never take me, the damned liars!"

When the soldiers threatened to fire the house, Jake agreed to surrender. When the soldiers stopped firing, he opened the door and stepped out. Three soldiers crouched at the corner of the cabin instantly drove their bayonets through his body, pinning him to the log wall. The butt of a musket scattered his brains over the porch.

Mrs. Pinson ran out past the troops

Billy, came and buried the bodies in shallow graves, without shroud or coffin. Mrs. Pinson was found in the woods and brought back, and finally regained her sanity.

The Pinson house was still standing, when Forrest Hull wrote this story for the Charleston Daily Mail in 1960. Some rooms had been added, and the, appearance changed, but over a stone in the chimney of one room was the hole made by the minie ball that lolled little Phil Pinson.

Nearby Jake Pinson and his children sleep among the wild blackberry vines. Submitted by Joanne Blankenship E@e, Great@ great-great-granddaughter of Jake Pinson.

He ate dinner at home alone in silence. He was in one of his black moods. The children kept to another room, but Mrs. Pinson served him, and occasionally looked out the door. She explained that she thought a hawk was after her chickens. While he ate, a neighbor, Mrs Wills came in and as she stood talking to Mrs Pinson, she suddenly cried out. 'Oh, Mr. Pinson, look at all the Yankees coming down the mountain."

Pinson ran up the steps to the second floor, grabbed a loaded rifle and went to the end window. A Yankee officer approached the house. Jake shot him dead, a bullet in his brain. the soldiers took cover and opened heavy fire on the house.

Mrs Wills and Mrs Pinson huddled in the back room with the children. Jake opened up his store of guns and returned the fire. Smoke filled the cabin. Volley after volley sent minie balls through the doors, windows and through the chinking of the logs. One ball entered the front room, went through a stone in the chimney and into the next room where it killed little Phil. Another shot killed baby Blythe Pinson.

Mrs Pinson screamed, Stop, Stop! I am a Union woman. You are killing my children! The soldiers only crept closer to the house and continued firing. By having several guns loaded, Pinson had given the impression of having several men in the house. When his fire slackened, the soldiers began to hear the women screaming and the children crying. They demanded Pinson's surrender. Mrs Wills tried to persuade Pinson to surrender, but he shouted "They will never take me, the damned liars!"

When the soldiers threatened to fire the house, Jake agreed to surrender. When the soldiers stopped firing, he opened the door and stepped out. Three soldiers crouched at the corner of the cabin instantly drove their bayonets through his body, pinning him to the log wall. The butt of a musket scattered his brains over the porch.

Mrs. Pinson ran out past the troops and into the woods where she remained for two days. Mrs. Wills remained throughout the affair, comforting the children and begging the soldiers not to harm them. They searched the house, found Pinson's guns and ammunition, talked of burning the place, but finally departed, carrying their dead officer on one of Pinson's horses.

For two days, Mrs. Wills remained in the lonely stricken home. She managed to feed the children could not remove the bloody corpse of the two babies or the father from the porch where he had died. The neighbors were afraid to go near the place.

Finally, Steve Morris and his son Billy, came and buried the bodies in shallow graves, without shroud or coffin. Mrs. Pinson was found in the woods and brought back, and finally regained her sanity.

The Pinson house was still standing, when Forrest Hull wrote this story for the Charleston Daily Mail in 1960. Some rooms had been added, and the appearance changed, but over a stone in the chimney of one room was the hole made by the minie ball that killed little, Phil Pinson.

Nearby Jake Pinson and his children sleep among the wild blackberry vines.

Submitted by: Joanne Blankenship Exline, Greatgreat-great-granddaughter of Jake Pinson.