Worth Her Salt

Sarah earned her salt in the Carolina hills The year was 1800, they mined to pay the bills The ground was hard and rocky, the winters were bone chilling The Cherokee were a mixed lot, some friendly some still killing And there in Appalachia, the life was hard on mountain folk And salt was badly needed for preserving meat in smoke But the salt mines were some days away right through the Indians land But getting salt was paramount and so a trip was planned A group of men caught traveling just might provoke a fight A lone girl might pass safely two days and a night So Sarah Green of 15 years when the salt ran low Packed rations on an old plough horse and said she’d gladly go She followed paths worn down by time and Cherokee and deer She drank from many creeks she crossed, the water cold and clear At night she tethered up her horse and built a little fire To ward off all the wildlife and then she would retire And once she got to Kingsport where the salt was mined She purchased all the salt she could then left the town behind Back through the woods along the path with danger all around This little girl of 15 years was finally homeward bound The paths she rode are now long gone, the Indians are too Homesteaded or paved over as settlers moved on through But the story of young Sarah and her young bravery Lives in the Appalachia folk in her family’s memory I read the story in a magazine and decided it was worth the effort of a poem.