that of which I am made

July 18. perhaps 'tis the heat which has caused us to slow down for a few moments of quiet contemplation, for not much else can one do without fear of collapse on days such as these.

Thoughts of days past, family and dear friends fill my mind. Thankful am I to grandfathers who taught us well, grandmothers who loved us much, to aunts and uncles, and to friends; all those who choose us over others... For these fine things and more, we are mightily blessed.

My eyes linger over a map, a bit of silver, a black arm band worn in time of loss, flowers gathered by tiny hands, letters writ betwixt friends and loves. These small pieces of life have such meaning to one, yet nothing to another. For without knowing its story, each piece is but another bit of useless stuff. Yet 'tis this useless stuffing of which I am made.

Fort Harrod

June 18. Terrible rains pound my small cabin as clouds and light race cross moon lit sky. Darkness oft broken by long flashes of light, and my quiet solitude disrupted by rumble of thunder louder than that of cannon fire. Were it not for the white wash of these cabin walls and small candle, one could hardly see to move pen cross paper. Once more vicious rumours hath reached mine tender ear; friends sequestered in Harrod’s town live in desperate fear of attack. Quickly we gather up only those things most necessary and flee toward the danger. Tis far late in the night when we arrive, Mistress Storey and I, to find all rumours quite true.

For with our very own eyes we have seen such nightmarish sights as can hardly be described; a giant of a red man barely clothed, shirt much stained and shorn nearly from his filthy red painted body, accompanied by many many more just as filth ridden, painted and jeweled as he. Indeed, another giant of a man with long flowing hair and much fearsome demeanor carrying a bow in bear skin the same length and stature as I! Never have mine eyes witnessed such beastly men bearing their teeth such as these! Fortune was much with us as we were able to pass through this hateful territory and slip unnoticed past these restless dogs and into the fort.

All danger and fear fled as mine eyes lit upon the face of our dear friend Mr. Mains, having traveled a great distance from the east to arrive just hours afore us. We were much delighted in each other’s company. A loft within a small cabin was found to stow our meager gear and we set about greeting our dear friends garrisoned within James Harrod’s fort. Mr. Godwin, known as Pit, and Mr. Webster were first to greet us, and quickly others too who had traveled far to lend hand, lead and rifle to the impending fight. Long into the night, nay early into the morn, we gathered to lay plans to overcome the pending siege.

Hardly able to remain wakeful, finally we returned to the small quarters granted us. Just as sleep had nearly taken us into her dream land, a sound the likes of which could not be immediately determined disturbed us greatly. Not but just sound, a feeling quite unusual? By light of moon through open window the source of this disturbance manifested; Bats! Indeed, many many of them, flying but scant inches over us in our repose. Nonetheless, sleep won out and carried us far from concerns over winged vermin.

June 19. Once more the pounding of rain and darkened black, grey and even green tinged skies greeted the morn, fierce winds blew through the fort and great sloughs of water ran from tentage and we were much gladdened to be stowed within our cabin. Friends not yet discovered the night last, made their way through the deluge to assemble with steaming mugs of coffee, tales of far off places, raids, and sad stories of losses so devastating as to make our tender heart break.

As the rains cleared and the hot sun sent steam rising, a few men, women and children ventured outside the fort gates. In fact, two lads feeling much restrained by walls, ventured further out toward the largest Osage tree mine eyes have ever taken in. Foolishly these two harassed each other into a game of shooting skills, but Lo! Just at the crack of the first shot, other shots were heard! My God, the boy was down, not just down, but shot full of lead, blood flying, bone breaking, helplessly jerking about with the agony!

Myself and Mistress Heasely were tending a fire and adding what bits of meat as we had to a meager stew when the multitude of shots rang through the valley. Gathering screaming children, we ran with all our might toward the safe haven of the fort. Blessed we were to make it inside just as the gates slammed shut behind our flying skirts! Quickly gathering my gun, lead and powder to the upper ramparts I ran, loading as my feet found purchase upon the rough ground.

Och! The sight before my eyes! T’was my own dear Mr. Mains flying toward the barred gate! The sheer terror which ran up my spine tightened my grip upon my gun and without conscious thought brought clear focus upon the black painted skull of the savage in my sights. “Dig, Dig!” was the scream from our lips as men began a hole for Mr. M to crawl under the fortifications. Lo! T’was the giant red man with long flowing hair running with a band of miscreants coming toward our most dear one! Tingling limbs worked without thought as we loaded time and again, our barrel so hot it blistered our skin. “Dig!” shouted Captain Curry until finally he was in!

Bold were they, these red dogs! One particularly stood out, perhaps his great height or the filthiness of his rags, but great was the burning anger in my soul to send this son of satan back, back to whence he came! Alas t’was not to be. His brethren, bold fighters were they! Long and hard did they fight, yet we of the fort were able to withstand their bloody assault. Ere long the shots rang out with less frequency, their yellow backs seen slipping into the trees, dragging off their wounded and dead, no doubt to recoup their losses as their own.

Finally, time passed without the hail of their snarls and shots and a great Huzzah was raised within the fort walls! Much celebrating commenced! Everyone gathered about the spring to dip neckcloth, bowl and cup to quench the heat from body and soul. Parson John gave blessings upon many and together we dined with much gladness in our hearts. Mr. Mains close by mine side, covered in more dirt than is usual, much the vermin upon that day! Having barely scratched and crawled through the hole dug small enough but a groundhog should pass. And yet, much thanks given, he had passed through unscathed. Once more late into the night our songs filled the air and wondrous time spent enjoying dear friends, Mistress Storey, the Heaselys, the Selters, our friend and oft times cook; Mr. K. Stambaugh, and so many others impossible to name. Huzzah, Huzzah, Huzzah! for our fortune this day!

June 20. Hot was the sun even upon rising, breezes unknown, nary cloud in the sky to grant even a moments respite and once more we fought! Evil dogs with snarling teeth and rankled hides came tearing through the trees and screams filled our ears. Smoke, thick from our musket and rifle fire, clung in the still air. All round us the fear, terror and fright, and yet we fight! Aye, indeed we fight, blistered skin from barrels blazed hot, split lips from lack of water mean nothing, t’is only powder, lead and shot that fills our minds. Rarely time to take proper aim, rather but a hail of lead we rained down upon those soulless beings with their black painted skin. Women run lead balls without ceasing, men load and hand up rifle and musket quick as can be done. Those of us of a true eye and aim never hesitating. Exhaustion, heat, and lead take our men and theirs. The hurled insults betwixt and between mean nothing against the blood stains of our souls, once more we fight. We fight until blooded and sickened by their losses they slip away once more into the woodlands and trackless forest, like shadows, evil shadows of the night, not but the smell of them left. Gone.

We seek out our loved ones, cry in the arms of those who have lost all, gather together with the Parson to pray and seek divine solace. Why, we wonder, why must life in this fair land be so hard, the losses so great? For land? For gardens and cabins and commerce? Nay, not those foolish things, but for our lives! Our very lives, and our children’s lives, for widows, orphans and those most beloved.

We carry on and we tarry not without rifle at hand, we press on in high hopes that our children will not carry burdens such as these, that they might have more than we. Indeed, that they know freedom from these murderous times. Yet, their eyes have seen, their tiny ears have heard, they’ll not forget what we’ve done. They will carry forth different burdens, different hurts and have other forces against them. Yet we pray we’ve done enough to prepare them, lest they be harmed. For as we fight; they too shall fight. They too shall hold the eye of their enemy in theirs. God grant them mercy to forgive themselves for what they shall do and what we have done. This small mercy we beg, in His name.

Women on the Frontier

June 11. With our most dear companions, Mistress duPont and Miss Katherine Dennis, we made the long and arduous journey to Mr. Boone’s Fort, to join like minded women of the frontier. Mistress duPont, who is of a much higher station than our own, was quite unfamiliar and a bit uncertain of this rough territory, though she persevered and bravely faced this new adventure with great fortitude. Willing even to forgo her usual accommodations, accoutrements and high styles, to take up the rougher sort of appearance common in this lowly place. The young miss was of a hardy sort, well prepared to undertake the care and assistance of her elder in their travels. Charged with their care we were most cautious to take well traveled and judicious routes. Further, upon our arrival, we begged leave of Mr. Farmer, to allow us make use of a small cabin within the confines of Mr. Boone’s fort. Fortune was with us and we were able to secure our position within the walls of the fort.
June 12. Upon rising, Mistress duPont was much vexed to find there was no coffee to be found within the fort. As this was quite disturbing, we set about resolving this practical matter. Soon we were refreshed and felt better able to face the assembled ladies and gentlemen who were to be our neighbors for this short sojourn.

Mistress DeEsch, Mistress Heasley, Mistress Hayes, Maggie, the Parson and a few others who are well known in these parts were quickly found and an acquaintance betwixt themselves and Mistress duPont was struck. We were all quite delighted with Mistress Heasley’s manner, speech and appearance. For myself it was quite refreshing to find a sister in station, demeanor and thought. Though Mistress Reasoner, being a much higher sort, would surely have looked down her nose upon such a one as Mistress H had she not retired to her suite, much too distressed by the heat to trouble her good self with the likes of us.

The fine Mistress R. did not show herself this day at all, though a native woman of very similar appearance, known only as Two Knives was oft seen and heard within the crowd of gathered women. Indeed this woman Two Knives shared with us the customs of her native people, their dress, accoutrements, and culture. T’was nearly enough to cause us pause in our pure hatred of all things savage, feeling a near kinship with this well spoke woman. Disconcerting, to say the very least. Nearly confounding. For this woman did seem to have a voice much as my own; strong, outspoken, independent and she would have had us believe this is indeed the common demeanor of many the savage’s women. T’is something to think upon, surely. Though one need only momentarily to think upon our heavy loss at hands of this woman’s man to rekindle the fire within our very soul. T’is easier to wonder; was this a fine bit of trickery to coax us to see the commonality of all sister women? Though we resolved not to be lulled into trusting one such as she, our heart was indeed opened by the kindest gesture of friendship; a small piece of this woman’s own treasure given with open heart. The weight of this bit of silver shall serve as reminder of our two opening hearts and our time passed in each other’s company, a visible token of what we have learned from one another.

The remainder of the day though quite warm and a bit stormy, was filled with cheerful conversations, a bit of demonstrating of our varied skills and even a bit of dancing! As the setting sun’s rays lit the fortyard a very special ceremony took place, for one of the fine young ladies of our small group had only just completed her education and forsaking the custom of graduating with her class had chosen to come join us here at Boonesborough. We were all much delighted to hear of her many accomplishments, being able to do much more than make her mark upon a piece of paper, we believe Miss Marz shall be quite a force to be reckoned with!
My own dearest companion Miss Katherine celebrated the 10th year of her birth with a bit of sweet cake and seemed quite delighted to receive a small gift of artist’s necessities from her mother, Mistress Dennis. Mistress Dennis must also have been taken with the heat, much like Mistress Reasoner, as she did not show herself a single moment of this day. The children of the fort played late into the night, thrilled with one another’s company, making fast friendships which shall surely last many a year to come.

June 13. Our pleasant sleep was much reduced by the accompaniment of a very small, but none the less, uninvited guest of the rodent variety. Not quite the vermin which I have become accustom to in this place; but a wee mouse which ran the length and breadth of the cabin, very nearly causing Mistress duPont to assume a position upon a table with broom in hand shrieking! Indeed, one may safely assume, given but the opportunity, Mistress d and Miss K. would surely have spent the remainder of the night ensconced atop the highest table top, much like a princess with the pea! But we digress…

The day being Sunday, the Parson called for a worship service within the fort walls. Mistress Dennis deigned to make an appearance, though one my wonder if it were not merely for the purpose of showing off such a fine gown. Beg pardon, for the boldness, but t’was my thought. For though Mistress Dennis did kindly join Mistress duPont and Miss Katherine in divine services, she was promptly not seen again for hours. Only making a brief appearance to have her portrait sitting with a local artist, Master Dennis Muzzy. Whist I was made busy with other necessary tasks, the ladies three did wander garden paths as Mister Muzzy followed behind, sketch pad in hand.

Though the heat was quite intense Mistress Reasoner too stepped outside her fine quarters to grace us with a small tea party and a word or two of her own. My, my, my, the fine beautiful gowns, trinkets and sundries she did show, things of great worth and dignity the likes of us shall certainly never attain. Though Mistress Dennis does seem quite taken by such things, indeed she made purchase of a lovely burnt orange linen from the dear Mistress Ruff, the purpose of which is to make a round gown.

As for myself, the women and a few men of the fort had gathered near a miserable small shelter outside the fort walls to hear the tales and story of my own poor life. Though it brought tears to mine eyes to repeat the hard words, it is my story to tell and tell I shall. For if in the telling of my own loss, one man may be moved to join up and fight against those red devils, my tears have worth. Many a woman, child and even a man or two were moved with great emotion upon hearing of the devastation those savages have wrought. As indeed they well should be, for is not the loss suffered great? Are times not hard? One can not lightly gloss over what has been done by those yellow dogs with red skin and red coats. For in forgetting are we not doomed to repeat? Aye, we will tell the tale far and wide in hopes those men and women who lost their lives might be remembered. And yet… the weight of this bit of silver upon my ear, causes me to wonder momentarily of the losses suffered by our sister Two Knives...

Recent Travels

June 7. My dearest friends, we beg your mercy and forgiveness for the lateness of our writings herein. The trail has been long and our travels far into the wilderness. As such; our time hath been otherwise spent in other endeavors.
The fortnight past; 29 May, found us encamped upon Wolf Creek. Our Governour, Patrick Henry, hath upon Monday the fifth day of May, in the year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and seventy seven, and in the first year of the Commonwealth, made known to the public his acts for regulating and disciplining the militia.

The men of the Commonwealth mustered up with great zeal in the early hours, however with each passing hour, became most disenchanted with the Colonel in command; one Colonel S. Dennis. Sheriff C. Hodges, known by most as a bald headed prig, collected many a tariff for public lewdness, drunkenness and even thievery! Upon more than one occasion whilst we encamped in this place, men and even women were forced to be bound by hand and by foot to a post for the public to humiliate.

The Morgan Company, lead by Captain Dennis Morgan was found to be the most resourceful and ready of the assembled men and were therefore well rewarded for their service. Other companies, sadly were found insufficient in their tasks as set by Colonel Dennis and were often dressed down for any number of fractious causes.

Perhaps the men of the militia were granted their greatest desires, when t'was found the Colonel’s own wife had turned 'gainst him; found to be a wanton, thief and woman of much ill repute, causing the Colonel’s reputation much harm!

For his part, he acted fairly in that said woman was held to the same punishment of pillory and stocks as others accused of such atrocities. Her begging and pleading upon knees did nothing to warm the Colonel’s cold heart once the woman had proven her true nature. Regardless of this outlandish behavior, our belief remains true in the fine men of this commonwealth who remain steadfast to our cause and stand ready fight with moment’s notice the red skin devils and their red coated yellow bellied deceitful allies of Britton.

Our more recent travels, as of 5 June, brought myself and my companion Mr. J. Mains to the banks of the Licking River where we prevailed upon the mercies of a local inn-keep. T'was our great fortune to unexpectedly encounter Mr. M. Schwendau whom we had last met upon the battlefields of Koh-koh-mah. Further, it seems Mr. Schwendau shall be presiding as land steward over the entire encampment at Blue Licks and shall therefore be more often in our company.

For once having time to tarry about, Mr. M and I took great pleasure in walking the buffalo trace and the hallowed ground of Blue Licks. The spirits our forefathers reached out to touch our hearts and souls as we tread the very ground where Major Hugh McGary had leapt upon his horse shouting, "Them that ain't cowards, follow me." Tears for the men lost in less than 15 minutes welled within my eyes and made blurry all but the blue sky above.

As the sky was so blue, Mr. Mains and I determined to avail ourselves of the fish residing within nearlby Johnson Creek. Much to our regret, the fish remained most reluctant to become our supper, only permitting two of their kind, which were quite small, to be caught upon my line. Mr. M’s lines remained quite untouched by even the smallest nibble, which brought him no small level of disgust!

Our dining fortunes turned dramatically for the better as Mr. K. Stambaugh of Bee Lick, offered up to us as many roasted chickens as we were able to stuff within ourselves! Mr. B. vonDielingen joined us, as did other local inhabitants for an evening of much enjoyment. Mr. vonDielingen, who had been captured by the Shawnee, was much gladdened to have returned to his people and the land of his birth. Though much scarred by recent atrocities, Mr. v. did regale us with tales and many songs, adding much to the night’s entertainments. By my count, an excess of 15 long guns were close at hand to shoot marks both still and on the wing, with differing levels of success. Late into the evening the spark of our powder and the ring of our laughter filled the rolling hills.

‘Tis indeed time such as these which mark our hearts forever. Much gladdened are we for the warmth of friendship and love of dear ones. For, ‘tis these very moments which our fathers, brothers and country men die to protect; the twinkling eye, merriment, and song, all life’s simple and trifling yet most treasured moments.

Dear ones, I remain yours most truly and humbly,
Anne

Ouabash Valley Frontiersman Spring Rendezvous

Having battled the French and Indians with the Ouabash Valley Frontiersmen we have returned with no more silver, prizes, nor goods than when we left.

My dear Mr. Hodges, Mr. Gholson and I fought well; provisioned the militia with much meat, carried messages and many necessary items, and yet were found wanting.

Lacking the strength to carry all which was needed, we made do with only that which we could easily carry, and for lack strength or foresight were penalized mightily. Further, dampness was our greatest foe; for our inability to strike fire and burn through a simple barrier prevented my men and I from obtaining our greatest desire.

Once more my fine smoothbore Lucky proved herself, yet sadly she and my companions were placed but fourth and garnered no prize.

Nonetheless we have seen dear friends, spent time in the woods and slept beneath the stars, no regrets have we. None, save the loss of our fine water jug, which must surely be replaced soon.

The Raid upon Martins Station

May 7. We arose early to find a golden sun burning through a haze which had settled in the night to obscure the majesty of the Cumberland Gap. Off we set immediately, seeking the flash of trout in yonder streams with which we would like to break our fast. Though sparkling waters were quickly found, our desire was left insatiated. Though in truth, my heart was entirely satiated by the company, the magnificence of the surroundings and the anticipation of the coming day. Rarely in our travels do we find ourselves thus completely undone by our surroundings, truly in a condition of such complete satisfaction as we found upon this very morning.

Together, my companion Mr. Mains, and I tread ancient paths, among the rhododendron and pines. The silent whispering of our forebears filled our heads as the cool morning breeze caressed our cheeks and caused our hearts to swell with the knowledge we were not alone. Filled were we with tender thoughts of those many who had gone before on this very trail, leaving invisible footprints upon the earth and our souls.

Having reached the summit we so desired, we returned to Webb’s Inn to join friends. Over many cups of coffee and a hearty breakfast reigned tales of times past and future, completely unbridled by truth. Sustenance of heart and belly now satisfied, my dear companion and I set off for Martins Station.

Not wishing the constant company afforded by the masses gathered upon the hill outside the fort, nor to garrison within the fort, my companion and I hacked out a small encampment within the shelter of soft pines. Having but the necessary items, our camp was set quickly with little effort. Mr. Jos.Hinson’s comments notwithstanding, our encampment was quite well suited toward our purposes.

Indeed, t’was not long into the setting of camp that friends seemed to pour out of the very woods with hailed greetings, rough slaps upon our backs and much good natured ribbing. Thus the entire day was spent in the company of friends, visiting suttlers and admiring the many goods available for notice of the public. Many were the faces we had not seen since year last, or in many cases had but corresponded with and never placed face with word. It was a fine thing indeed to spend even little time in the camps of friends. Unbidden, the day quickly slipped into night and though constantly on guard of attack our company of settlers, hunters, horsemen and friendly natives passed the night unmolested by the gathering savages. Though safe from native attacks, Nature surely blew her best winds through the mountains causing minor harm to some.

May 8. My companion remarked upon the new day; “I was half awake and two thirds asleep all night!” which did indeed seem a fair if not mathematically accurate statement. Our small camp held tight and the morning coffee was enjoyed immensely. Having sutlers nearby caused our vain side to appear and I departed company from Mr. Mains in search of female companionship to obtain garments befitting a Sunday service. Though unable to locate the whereabouts of Mistress Patton, Mistress Selter and I passed a pleasant, but unfortunately short time together strolling through the assembled tradesmen’s tents. Just as a purchase was negotiated to obtain a pistol from Mr. Moore a runner approached announcing imminent danger of attack!

As is my wont to do, I flew off toward the station camp to render my services to Captains Titus and Martin. Though concerned with my obvious femininity, the captains discerned my sincere intent to fight, with or without their leave or consent to do so, and thus they welcomed the additional steady hand, powder and lead of an experienced shooter.

Within moments the thunder of hoofs confirmed our worst fears, the whooping and snarls of painted savages ripped through the afternoon air with the sounds of engagement. A rough moment took place in getting the inexperienced men into formation and out the narrow gate, nearly causing Captain Titus to explode with rage, but once no longer hemmed in by the fort walls, the men showed their courage and hours of drilling became muscle memory, as finally they began to follow command as second nature.

Smoke from burning cabins, screams of terror, agony, defeat and defiance filled my senses entirely. A high fever burned inside my soul for revenge against this heathen force. Further, a burning raging hatred for the militia's drilled volley fire filled me and nearly caused me to break rank and engage the enemy at will, as I knew my aim would be more accurately used, and alone I could pour many many more ounces of lead down the enemy’s throats and rip through their soft red bellies.

T’was only the sheer force and brute strength of the Captain’s will that held us together in rank, particularly when approached by savages with our own dear women as captives. Surely Satan himself must embody those hellish fiends for no son of God could destroy so viciously the innocence of women and children. My God, the terror those savages struck with their fires, tortures and scalping knives, twas surely a blessing for those who were quickly dispatched, not to be taken with force to the red man’s evil places to be further tormented. Worse still, were those race traders, those men of white skin who hath turned their yellow backs upon the ways of right and Godliness! Those yellow cur dogs deserve no less than the very tortures which they themselves inflict upon their own kind.

Within what seemed hours or even days of fighting the battle was over, a haze of gunsmoke filled the valley and the wounded and dead were retrieved from the field. Screams continued to rend the air as the good doctor made every attempt to save life and rend torn and useless limbs from the bodies of the mortally wounded. The militia formed up a line and marched to a safe area for the enjoyment of a rum ration and acknowledgement of a job well done. My dear companion once again found, we enjoyed the lecture of our friend Mr. M. Baker, after which some quiet time alone and the remainder of the day slipped easily by.

This quiet reverie was once again broken by the sound of drums, screams and the crack of firelocks. To arms we ran for it seemed another battle was underway, this time with a layer of intrigue! Early in the warm afternoon sun, acting in our natural capacity as spy and scout, intelligence was gathered of devious schemes afoot. Indeed, we had heard whispered rumor of the savage’s intent to disarm Captain Titus. Once such intelligence had reached our ears fierce was our intent to dissuade any fool from such a mission. Further, other spies had gathered intelligence of evil intent to remove the cannon from our possession. Thus we were hardened to battle with our very lives to protect the honor of our captain and our strongest defense.

To Captain Titus did Mistress Bailey attached herself with much determination. Acting as his personal guard along with Colonel Brown, Captain Titus addressed his men with a bellow and allowed them to know Mistress Bailey was granted his full permission to fire at will, and buttstoke any man who came within harms distance of himself.

Thus into battle we did advance. Darkness nearly upon us, the hateful fire, smoke, and crack of firelocks filled the night. Truer men than these can hardly be imagined. Strengthened by fierce loyalty and determined to protect that which was ours we marched into the night and took on the savages with raw power. Captain Martin roared commands at his men and the men responded with perfection firing as one into the night. During the heat of battle, the smell of powder and a heady knowledge of our forebears lent strength to our purpose. Indeed, so filled were we with a second life of those who had gone before, it seemed invisible fingers guided our own to insure perfect loading and we were joined with another’s eye with which to aim true. We welcomed in the ghosts of our fathers past and joined in spirit with them, we did surely fight with double strength, loyalty and honor! No evil intended man would brook the range between myself and Captain Titus, for rather we would place ourselves in harms way, guarding his very life with our own.

Twice, yellow bellied men with paint upon their bodies to cover their cowardliness, came to engage our captain and were instantly put down as the cur dogs they were. And still the fires burned bright into the night. Orphans screamed with terror as they were torn from lifeless mothers arms, men once sound of mind and body, lost a level of conscience and allowed their minds to take leave of their senses. Yet still we fought! And the savages too seemed filled with a mindless rage, as defiant and evil as we had ever engaged. Mistress Nature again whipped her mighty winds through the mountains and so the battle fever blew through us.

Memory does not serve one well in such times and suffice it to say this is for the best; for many such battle memories are too difficult for a thinking man to bear. The savages were partially successful in their endeavor to relieve us of the cannon, however their joy was much depressed to find our good men had spiked the thing, leaving them a heavy but useless trophy. Our own men were much gladdened with the capture of the most offensive of savages who was even now bound and left for dead in a secure blockhouse, to be dealt with appropriately.

As the fires burned down and the smoke began to clear we rejoined our companions within the station camp walls. Much rejoicing took place with the capture and success of the field. The prisoner was brought forth to the Captain’s presence and lo! Even in his weakened state, did this evil son of Satan make an attempt for Captain Titus’s sword! Having been earlier informed of this savages greatest intention, we were on the lookout for such an attempt and made quick work of him. His meaty hand twisted beneath my own as toward the sky I pulled it and gave him over to Colonel Brown, who immediately tossed him like refuse of a chamber pot into the fort yard.

With this excitement past, the Captain and I passed a short time quietly together, celebrating with a rum ration. As is his duty, the captain then went out to address the assembled men and women of the station camp. His sincere and heartfelt thanks was given to all those who fought bravely, but especial thanks to Captain Martin who’s own diligence and perseverance were remarkable. Three cheers were given and the huzzah’s rang over and over long into the night.

Mr. Mains, and I once more retired to our own encampment to discuss the passed hours, during which we had hardly laid eyes upon one another. His time spent primarily in company of Mr. Delph on a couple of mules well outside the station camp. Afore long the soft strains of Mr. C. Ross’s whistle and Mr. J. Salt’s voice carried into our small copse of trees and begged us join in the merriment. Delightedly we joined with friends new and old to cheer the day, sing songs upon Mistress J. Wingo’s whim, late into the night we joined with others in telling tales of exploits past. Few times in our lives have been passed so happily as these few hours around the campfire with twinkling stars above, mountains standing guard around us and the warmth of love and friendship upon our hearts.

May 9. It was with great dismay we awoke to find fellow scout and hunter Mr. Baker standing at our very feet whilst we slept! Indeed! with much vigor I beg Mr. Mains chose his friends more wisely in future, For Mr. Baker was there to inform Mr. Mains he was needed now at this very moment as the sun cracked the horizon, to go with him on an important mission.

Left to our own devices we determined to make coffee. With bucket in hand to the spring we went, passing two farmers and their indenture along our path. Said indenture, a Mr. Neidlinger, had upon the previous evening oft let loose with his tongue a number of insults which we had chosen not yet to responded to in kind. However, unbidden into the morning light his wayward thoughts got the best of him once more and one further insult too many resulted in a pail of cool spring water being dumped upon him. Now knowing the folly of his ways Mr. N. begged the forgiveness of Mistress Bailey and further presented her with a small gift that she should know his sincerity.

Once coffee, a bit of food and the company of others were enjoyed, it was not long before Mr. Mains returned to find us in the farmer’s paddock. Lo! Mr. Mains appeared to have once again suffered injury during his time with Mr. Baker, in whose company not one month past he had received a vigorous burning from the application of Cowpeas to his flesh courtesy of Mr. B.

This time however, it seemed the wound was self inflicted as Mr. M had been much carried away with the telling of a tale and stumbled upon a stob as though reliving the tale. Grateful not to have removed his own eye, Mr. Mains returned to our company, much marked but not truly wounded except perhaps in pride.

The sound of a horn rent the glorious mountain air as the Pastor called to one and all for divine services. To the station camp we assembled in the presence of Gods wisdom. With the pastors word, the surrounding mountain beauty and His word we were many of us carried in spirit far beyond our simple selves to truly feel His presence. The magnificence of these moments with God and His chosen company cannot be described by this humble writer.

T'was truly a blessed morning, furthered by the tender words of friendship offered by one whom this writer most admires and respects. For in all God’s creatures it is often the lowliest, most humble and downtrodden that He Himself instills His words and acts for the benefit of others. And so it she, our own dearest Mistress Maggie, a simple indentured servant who brings friendship and God’s words closer to our hearts, bringing tears to our eyes as the beauty, glory, and honor being her friend fills us so fully that room must be made by the spilling out of tears.

Indeed many words of love were spoken on this glorious day, and no better place on earth in which to share them. Love and friendship only tempered by the lack of time to be spent in each one another's company. For time doth pass too quickly and too soon must we be upon the trails to return to our home lands, but never in our hearts will this time among loved ones, past and present, be forgot. The grandeur of the mountains, the word of our Lord, and the divine inspirations granted to us this day are far reaching into our very soul leaving us somehow different and better than when we arrived.

Our greatest and most humble thanks to Mr. Heck, Captain Titus and those assembled at the Station we remain deeply indebted to you.

Your most humble servant,

Anne

sketching of the goings on may be viewed:

http://www.graphicenterprises.net/html/martin_s_station.html