Pioneer Story Page 2

All Mary could say was, "Lord, watch over us."

Mary and Robert discussed their decision with their two sons at supper. George and Matthew were eager to join their father. They knew the answer before Pa said, "no." Mother needed their strong backs to tend the homestead. Robert set off to find their new land the next morning. Now, as the first snow of winter blanketed the cabin, he returned with the news.

Mary gently touched Robert's hand. It was still cold, but warmer than when he arrived home. He was slowly thawing out. She thought about the many times he had gone on long hunts, stalking otter, bear, deer and other critters. Often, he was gone for months. Sometimes Robert had been the prey instead of the predator. The slash of white across his leather brown cheek reminded her of a skirmish he had with a war party a decade ago. She knew of other scars too. The jagged trail of a hunting knife decorated his chest. Long, savage claw marks covered his right shoulder and stretched down his back. They were the final, ferocious acts of a mortally wounded panther.

Robert was a hunter by trade. He supplied the raw hides and furs needed by tanners and furriers. Born in 1760 in the Blue Ridge Mountains, he lived his life on the remote fringes of civilization. The outside world was far away. News trickled in, by word-of-mouth, from traveling tinkers, tavern keepers and families moving West. Much of the news Robert heard was of events that took place months earlier. Every story contained a kernel of truth, embellished with every telling. Robert heard stories about the struggle for independence. He had neighbors join the fight. Some fought beside General Washington; others were loyal to The Crown. He knew the British incited some tribes to harass the frontier. Despite this knowledge, Robert was never involved in the war. King George lived thousands of miles away, across the ocean. Robert had rarely laid eyes on a redcoat. His liberty was never in peril. Robert could act, speak, and think as he wished.

Robert had all the freedom a man could want. He lived wild and free. He roamed the vast wilderness at will. He lived by the laws of nature. He usually ate well because he knew the habits of the forest creatures. He recognized scores of wild plants that were delicious foods or medicines. He could survive in any weather; start a fire with two sticks; build a cozy shelter without a single tool; make warm clothing and moccasins from animal skins. He could travel safely anywhere, completely undetected. He had learned to sleep with one eye open, move silently and quickly without disturbing a single rock or twig. He had the freedom to move on, start over. If a place didn't suit him, there was plenty of new land for the taking. There was more than enough free land to swallow everyone in the colonies and England too!

At thirty-four years old, Robert was master of his wilderness world. People in the Tidewater region, with their fancy homes, store-bought clothes, and genteel manners, would have been unimpressed by this buckskin-clad country cousin, but few men knew the woods as Robert did. He had seen one of the last buffalo around Big Lick when he was fifteen. As a young man, he had frequently penetrated unexplored territory that would one day be part of the states of Kentucky, Tennessee, Ohio and West Virginia.