A journey... Part II

ITTER cold with high gusts greet us as we depart, not a good time of year to be moving about in the out-of-doors. Mr. Burton assures me that we should have no trouble from any indians, much to the disappointment of the brothers Bryant. We crossed the river to the North and then turned Eastward along a well beaten trail. The trail lead East Northeast along fairly even ground for the majority of the morning.

I wore my heavy gray wool overshirt on top of my heavy black wool coat, and a wool scarf about my head and ears (and atop my wig) to fend off the cold. I have not missed the looks given me by Mr. Flynn, Burton and the brothers Bryant concerning my dark cloathes. Each of them, being poor men, wear simple drab brown cloathing in comparison to my own.

We travel all day without stopping, save a few moments to refresh our supplies of water, we even walk whilst eating. It is far easier to take a few handfuls of sustenance from one's haversack while moving, than to spend a prolonged period exposed to these elements.

My travel companions move quickly, their feet sure and silent on the cold, dry ground. We have made good progress today. As the sun sets, we turn off the trail and into the woods to find shelter for the night. We built a fire, but it did very little, shedding more light than warmth. The night sky is clear and cloudless, I can see every star in the Heavens against the black pool of the sky.

I lay my wool blankets out atop a bed of leaves, careful that the red one goes underneath and the dark gray one goes above, to keep me hidden in the night. I sleep with all my cloathing on, even my boots stay on tonight. I simply loosen my neck stock and unbutton my shirt collar and the top two buttons of my waistcoat for comfort.

A journey to tend to Mr. C-----

HAVE received word through a mutual friend that Mr. C-----, my first surviving amputee here upon this frontier is ailing. I have therefore resolved to pack up my instruments and travel to his homestead to pay him a visit in my capacity as his Physician.

We were first introduced several years ago, when I was housed at Mansker his station, Mr. C------ came into the area much like any other. He was giv'n some acres as payment for past military service, and claimed land near Bledsoe's fort. He was inexperienced as a farmer and was injured by his plow, I had no recourse but to amputate his left leg below the knee at the tibia.

He and his wife had little capacity for payment, which I finally took in the way of several chickens, a week's worth of meals prepared (as I oversaw the recovery of the patient), some tidy repairs to my clothing by mr. C-----'s goode wife and a lovely Beaver pelt (which hung in my office above the mantle for some time).

He sought me out the following October complaining of pain in the stump. I bled him vigorously, and he returned home, restored to his health.

After the destruction of the old fort, I traveled down Mansker's creek to the Cumberland River, where I went downstream until I found a spot that I could claim for my own that was a suitable distance from Fort Nashborough. My land is but a day's travel by boat to the fort, as it is all downstream. I am loathe to confess, however, that it takes me two days (three on occasion) of steady rowing to make the return trip.

I had built for myself a small sturdy cabin on a nice flat plot of ground and have since plied my trade sufficiently and with some success.

Since the word has come to me of his ailing, I have begun to make arrangements to travel with a party of gentlemen to pay Mr. C------ a visit at his homestead up near the area of Issac Bledsoe's Lick. The party is to be made up of myself, Mr. Flynn, Mr. Burton and the young brothers Bryant. Mr. Flynn is my closest neighbor, and the other gentlemen are, I believe, hunters and trappers by profession.

Mrs. Flynn has agreed to keep the girls whilst I am away. I have packed up my blue box and have made ready to travel upon the morrow.