In the thick forests of the South Carolina backcountry, light hit the ground scattered and split, filtered through leaves and pine needles as through a cathedral’s stained glass. Sunbeams swirled with dust and gnats in the torpid August air. When Gibson reached his destination, one man was waiting for him, as agreed. In the open they would have taken shots at each other. But here they could meet quietly and alone, as equals and gentlemen.1 The shadows obscured profound differences between the men. At age fifty-five, George Gabriel Powell was ten years Gibson’s elder, one of the most powerful figures in the colony. He held a seat in the colonial Assembly and owned a sprawling plantation called Weymouth at the mouth of the Great Pee Dee River above Georgetown. King George III had given him command of the Pee Dee Militia, which provided protection from Indians and from the threat of rebellion by slaves, who far outnumbered free colonists along the coast. Gideon Gibson, by contrast, was arguably the most dangerous man in South Carolina.
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