Chapter Text
The colors of the North Carolina back country were vividly alive again; the morning frost was gone replaced by just a gentle dew and the sun stayed in the sky for longer. And the residents of Fraser’s Ridge were rejoicing the arrival of Spring. The past winter was difficult especially for those dwellers who knew a world with indoor heating but that was all being forgotten as the birds were chirping and new life was sprouting everywhere one looked.
Ian Murray, easily one of the best hunters on the Ridge, had left before dawn in search of some game for the residents less skilled at hunting including a few of the elderly folks. And after achieving the goal and heading back towards home he heard unfamiliar voices.
A man with a working-class British accent said, “Murdoch, you’re being daft. The cut there is too deep, we must find someone that can help ya.”
“Drew, where are we going to find anyone to help in these back woods?” A man with an American accent responded. “As long as I keep it away from dirt and other mess, it should be fine until we get back to Wilmington.”
The other man, named Drew, chuckled, “That thing is already starting to fester and the smell is worse than anything I smelled in the filth of London. I’m sure there is an Indian conjour woman somewhere near here who can help.”
But Murdoch, the injured man, seemed very reluctant. Ian had spent enough time around Auntie Claire to know that injuries should be tended to has soon as possible or bad things could happen. But he also knew dealing with strangers could lead to trouble. So he was torn, assist one’s fellow man as the Good Lord would advise or get away as quickly as his feet would take him.
“God in Heaven, let this be the right path,” Ian silently prayed to himself. Ian made a loud noise and introduced himself from a distance, “Aye, forgive me the intrusion and for hearing your conversation but my name is Ian Murray and I am a settler on Fraser’s Ridge not a quarter of a day from here. My Aunt is healer and I am sure she would be able to help that injured arm.”
Drew and Murdoch looked at Ian with puzzled expressions; he sounds like a Scot and has the skin color to match but the dress and adornments look more Indian. As Murdoch was preparing to deny him, Drew piped in, “Mr. Murray we would be happy to accompany you to your Aunt. My stubborn friend needs tending. My name is Drew, Thaddeus Drew. And my friend here is Edward Murdoch.”
Murdoch looked as mad as a storm but what could he do except extend his hand to Ian and say, “Yes, thank you Mr. Murray.”
“Well, come,” Ian said, “If we move along we’ll get there before sun down.” Ian started off while Murdoch glared at his friend who just gave him a grin.