The Ninety Six of the Revolution has vanished except for the remains of some of the British intrenchments and of Kosciusko’s mine.  Two miles away, on the Columbia and Greenville Railway, stands the present village of Ninety Six, and through the edge of this there flows a little stream called Kate Fowler’s Branch.  It was on the edge of this brook that, many years before the Revolution, Kate Fowler’s father built himself a house in which Kate was born and grew to womanhood.

In those days South Carolina was noted for its fine horses, and Anthony Fowler took a great pride in his, but as the years went by he grew old and Kate grew up.  She was a beautiful girl and an industrious one too, for after her father had become too infirm to attend to his farm Kate managed it for him and his negro slaves did the work.  Like most of the girls of the back country settlements, she was an excellent horsewoman and she always rode a very fine horse which she had reared herself and which she called Bullet.  On Bullet she went into the town and transacted her business or rode from field to field where the servants were at work.

At last the war began between the King of England and the South Carolinians, but at first Kate Fowler paid very little attention to it.   There were brawls between the Whigs and Tories of her neighborhood, to be sure; much talking and boasting, and once or twice some blood spilled.  But Kate’s father was too old to be of any service to either party, and Kate laughed and jested with Whig and Tory alike when they paid her for her produce and was angry with each alike when they took it without paying.

Since there was so much of this talking without paying she was rather glad than otherwise when a strong garrison of the King’s troops came to occupy Ninety Six.  These troops, under Colonel Cruger, a Tory from New York, kept the neighborhood more orderly than it had been, and besides offered an excellent market for the butter, eggs, and vegetables which Kate Fowler had to sell.  In the garrison there was a young Tory lieutenant, and sometimes when he was not on duty he would slip away from the town and go to visit Anthony Fowler.  In this way he saw Kate often and at last they fell in love with each other.  After that they wished that the war might end.

But the war did not end.  There  were marches and countermarches, sieges and battles, and to Kate and her lover the time seemed long.  And then one day there was much excitement, for news had  come that General Greene was approaching with an American army.  All the British soldiers were busy after that, strengthening the fortifications and getting in provisions.  And after a time Greene and the Americans arrived.

Green laid siege to Ninety Six and shut the British up in it, but no one paid any attention to Kate Fowler on her farm two miles away.  And Kate, since she could not sell her produce to the British, began to sell it to the American officers and soldiers.  In this way she became a familiar figure in their camp, and they welcomed her not only for the eggs and butter and fresh vegetables which she brought, but also for her bright eyes and her keen wit.

In the meantime the siege went on, and as Kate saw the American trenches getting closer and closer to the town, and heard rumors of the great mine which Kosciusko, General Greene’s engineer, was digging in order to blow the Royalists up, she began to be uneasy about her lover.  She was careful, however, not to let the Americans know that she was troubled.  She wished them to think that she did not care what happened to the British.

Colonel Cruger also saw the interrupted progress of the Americans.  Closely invested, cut off from supplies, and with more than a suspicion that a mine was being sunk beneath his works, it was evident that relief must come soon or the post must surrender.  One dark night when a misty rain was falling he sent for one of the Tories of his garrison.  This man’s home was in the neighborhood, so he knew the country and the people.

Cruger explained the situation to the Tory and asked him to try to carry a letter to Lord Rawdon, who had already advanced from Charles Town as far as Orangeburg.  The Tory undertook the task, and on that same night crept over the breastworks and into the American lines.  As he passed the American pickets he came near being caught, but fortunately for him continental troops, and not local militia, were on guard at that part of the line.

“Who is there?” rang out the challenge as he passed a watchfire.
“One of Pickens’ militiamen,” replied the Tory in his backwoods drawl.
“Why can’t you plagued militiamen stay in your own lines?” demanded the officer in charge, angrily.
“I was a huntin’ of some dry wood,” whined the Tory, and they let him pass, for there was nothing about him that betrayed him to be other than he claimed.

Having made his way through the encampment, most of the troubles of the Tory were over.  Knowing the Fowlers, he went to their house, borrowed a horse, and hurried on to meet Rawdon.

Rawdon, fearing that Cruger would surrender before he could reach him, immediately ordered the Tory to carry his answer back to Ninety Six.  The man took the letter, but he realized that it was a great deal easier to get out of the fort than it would be to get back in.  The nearer he approached the place the less he liked his errand.  It was much better, he thought, to be free in his native woods than under the fire of the American guns.  When he went to Kate Fowler’s house to return the horse he told her that he would not go any further.

Then the girl, with thoughts of her lover in her mind, told him to leave the letter with her.  After he had gone she filled her basket with butter and eggs and vegetables.  When all was ready she mounted Bullet and rode to the American camp.

The Americans suspected nothing as the girl rode as usual through the camp selling her produce and laughing and joking with the soldiers.  But little by little she worked her way toward the very front lines, and at last came to the place where an American lieutenant with a squad of men stood behind a log barricade directly facing the gate to the town.  She stopped here, talking to the officer and watching for her chance.

Then, suddenly, when everyone was at ease, she wheeled her horse and spurred him.  Like a deer Bullet flashed over the barricade and raced for the gate of the fort, and as she  went the girl tore the letter from her bosom and waved it frantically toward the British sentries.  For a moment the Americans were too stunned to fire at her, and when they did so they missed.

But the British saw and understood.  They flung open the gate and began to shoot at the Americans in order to confuse them.  There were whoops and hurrahs and the whole American camp stood to arms, but amid the confusion Bullet had passed the gate and Kate Fowler was safe.

When Ninety Six was evacuated by the Royalists Kate went with her lover to Charles Town, but many years later, when the war was only a memory and she an old woman, she came back to her old home and lived until she died on the banks of Kate Fowler’s Branch.