The Amish Seamstress by Mindy Starns Clark Page B

Massacre happened in December 1763, and this was written about two months after that. I have to wonder if by ‘this time of unrest,’ that’s what she’s referring to. The Indian conflict and the war of words, as you called it.”
    Verna squinted through the lenses of her glasses. “But it sounds as though she’s writing from somewhere else. The Indian conflict happened here in Pennsylvania.”
    I shook my head. “Obviously, this letter is about a trip. My guess is that she and this Gorg person had been here but then traveled away. What’s the GWR?”
    Verna thought for a moment. “Some kind of travel route, I suppose? A roadway of some kind?”
    â€œGWR,” I mused. “The Georgia–West Virginia Route?”
    â€œThe George Washington Roadway?”
    We considered the date and decided it would probably be a bit premature to name a road for a man who hadn’t yet risen to his full prominence. Still, the GWR had to be some kind of road.
    â€œShe mentions a Moravian,” Verna said, turning to look at the shelves along the wall where she kept her history books. “I seem to recall something about the Moravians…” She rose and moved over to the books, tilting her head to scan the spines.
    I returned my attention to the letter. “Do you recognize the name Gorg?”
    â€œNo, but if he’s also an ancestor, I probably knew who he was at some point.” She turned and looked at me, an idea alight in her eye. “The old family Bible, of course. It’s on the table in my room.”
    â€œYou want me to get it?”
    â€œPlease. Second door on the right.” She plucked a book off the shelf, and as I headed down the hallway, she shuffled back over to her chair.
    Verna’s bedroom was sparsely furnished with a single bed, a bureau, and a table by the window, on which was a brush, a bottle of lotion, and a massive black Bible. I carefully picked up the Bible, noticing that its cover was old and brittle, and hurried back to the living room. When I got there, though, Verna had the history book open on her lap and seemed to want to show me something first, so I set the Bible aside for a moment and gave her my attention.
    â€œI thought so,” she told me, placing her finger on the page.
    Leaning forward, I read the heading she indicated, The Moravians Venture Out from Bethlehem .
    â€œThis whole chapter is about the Moravians,” she explained, “and their migration from Pennsylvania down to North Carolina in the mid-1700s.”
    â€œNorth Carolina? Do you think Abigail would have traveled from here to all the way down there?”
    â€œWell, I wasn’t so sure at first, until I read this third paragraph.”
    Curious, I skimmed the words she indicated, which were about a group of Moravian brothers of varying skills and professions who had traveled together to North Carolina in 1733 to establish a new settlement there. That was interesting, but I couldn’t figure out what had Verna so pleased until I got to the end. It said:
    They followed the Great Wagon Road, which was a main route of travel for southbound settlers of the era. Starting at the port of Philadelphia, the roadway passed through Lancaster and York, Pennsylvania, down through the Shenandoah Valley, at that time ending around what is now Salem, North Carolina. Over the coming years, the Great Wagon Road would continue to expand and eventually provided passage all the way to Augusta, Georgia .
    I looked at Verna, my eyes wide. “The GWR in her letter is the ‘Great Wagon Road.’ ”
    We shared a grin. I couldn’t believe we had found the answer to at least one of our questions so quickly.
    After that, she put the book away and asked for the Bible, so I handed it to her. She struggled to balance it on her lap as she opened it, so I scooted in beside her and steadied the book.
    â€œIs this the Westler family Bible?”
    She