April 12, 1006

During 1860, Micajah McNatt was two months old and the family lived in Arkansas. The history of this family is similar to other families that settled in Onega. It was customary for the father and two or more sons to go west of the Mississippi, and find a suitable tract of land for the family to settle.

They would then go back and the remainder of the family was added to the exploring party and traveled west. The western traveling Cherokees were subjected to many hardships on their journey west.

As soon as the Rhea family acquired the large plot of deep sandy soil, they built a two or three acre lake to dam up the Running Branch Creek. This lake was later named McNatt Lake. The lake was used for many years for public events. It was an excellent swimming and fishing lake, and since it was supplied with clean pure spring water it was used for baptismal services as well.

The excellent water that the Rheas dammed up soon became known locally as a key ingredient in the making of whiskey. The local whiskey manufacturers would take large containers to the flowing spring water. The whiskey was used by many families for treating family ailments.

J.W. (Will) McNatt and his wife Beulah lived their entire lives in the Aubrey Area. Will was a son of Micajah and Emily. Emily was a daughter of J.W. Harmon and Jane B. Turner ( we called her Grandma Blackeye). According to the Denton County Census of 1910, Micajah was born in 1860 in Arkansas, and Emily was born in McMinnville County, Tennessee in 1866.

Will McNatt was born in Texas in 1885. Will and Beulah had two sons, J. Arby McNatt and Troy W. McNatt. Beulah was a Wheeler. Documentation on the Wheeler family can be traced back to Virginia in 1745. This family has a long interesting family history and have been in this area for a long time.

Will McNatt was the owner of the Aubrey café until 1946, when he went to work as a collector for the Aubrey Utility Company. Will and Beulah celebrated their 50^th wedding anniversary in Aubrey on October 4, 1955. Will died in 1971 and was buried in Belew Cemetery. Beulah then went to live with her son Arby, in Wautauga. She is also buried at Belew Cemetery.

The photo, I am sharing came to me via email sometime back. It was shared with me by one of Edgar Waldrum’s sons. I am most happy to have this photo, and will continue to wok on identifying the people in the photo. Help me if you can.

The following story was written by Lillian Goin McKinney while she was attending college in Denton as a teenager. Her daughter Billie McCauley has recently discovered some of her Mother’s writings and is sharing them with us. This story is about when they were children living out on Blackjack Road west of Aubrey.

by Lillian Goin McKinney

Bill Shepherd, Myrtle Coffey, Emmett Cagle, George and Jim, Claude and Nooge Smith, and Callie and I got tired after the Thanksgiving Day dinner at the Blackjack School house, so we wandered off across Wheeler’s orchard.

We found some apple trees just loaded with good, ripe juicy apples. Even a barrel had some in it.

Every one of us knew we shouldn’t do it, and certainly we weren’t hungry,

But why not help ourselves?

There was not a soul in sight, so we decided to try and get by with taking a few. They would never be missed from that world of apples, anyway. We settled that each one of us could have three or four. The boys could put theirs in their shirts, and Callie, Myrtle and I could tuck up our skirts to hold three or four.

Stealing? Yes, we knew it! We also knew that Mr. Wheeler was a stingy old codger who would never, ever give any of us any apples.

We were talking about him, too loud, I know. Gleefully we shouted each other down, gloating over the biggest apples. Heavenly bliss, stealing apples, throwing down on the softly plowed ground the small ones, and laughing about it. No one but us would ever know, we said.

So busy were we that we never heard anyone around until Mr. Wheeler grabbed my arm and growled, "Go put them apples back in them there barrels!"

I let out my God awfullest blood curdling yell and stopped everyone in his tracks. Jim and Nooge (Nugent) fell from the tree like a couple of apples, but came down feet first and on the run.

"Stop!" the old man’s voice cracked like a whip – that’s when I saw the switch he was holding.

Quickly I tried to drown out his voice by squalling louder. I was scared, too,

because that was a big old switch and I knew I deserved being beat to death with it. (And I expected to be, too!)

"Put. Them. Apples. Back. In. That. Barrel!" He accented every word through clenched teeth.

Scared and disgusted looks were on everyone’s face except Jim and Nooge.

They were cutting it through the fence row and out of range. They left a high trail of dust behind them, marking the trail of their flight.

The rest of us eyed them enviously, but were trapped.

Mr. Wheeler called each one of us by name and one by one made each of us empty our shirts and skirts into the barrel.

That was when I missed George. The old man was still holding my arm and I needed George to peel me away from him. I called and called George – I was still crying and sniffling after a fashion. Jim was already gone, so I’d have to go back to the wagons alone. Now I was really afraid.

Maybe George heard the fear in my voice, for he dropped from an apple tree near where the old man and I were standing.

This must have startled Mr. Wheeler (I know it did me!) because he let loose with that switch, flailing first at George, then going after the rest of us.

Hot, dirty. scared, and guilty we scattered fast, and ran back toward the school house.

We were a sorry looking bunch of kids when we got back to the school house and the wagons. It seemed to me that all Blackjack was watching our return. Some came to meet us.

But guess who didn’t meet us? The two thieves who got away with it. Jim and Nooge were sitting on the spring seat of the wagon, munching apples and smart alecing.

"Where in the world have you all been?" they asked.

The aftermath? Our parents made us go back and help Mr. Wheeler sort his apples for market. Our pay? One apple each for about three days work apiece. And oh, yes, Jim and Nooge had to help, too!

[ Home ]