rapidly thinking of putting some space between herself and the stranger for everyone knew insanity was contagious.
Excerpt from A Fitch Family History by Maureen Fitch Carnes
Reading between the lines of his journal, one can easily believe Darius's main reason for staying with the Cherokee all winter were not so much due to inclement weather as to a burgeoning love for White Fawn. Anyone who reads his journals, but especially those of us who are his progeny, would love to know more details of this love story. Unfortunately, men of Darius's stamp rarely ever wrote of romance,
Having spent a night sleeping on the ground at roughly the same locale that the Cherokee's teepee village was located that winter, I can imagine my ancestor sitting at a fire and admiring White Fawn. Darius writes of a strong bond between himself and Bear and one can easily picture him slyly asking questions about the young man's sister. As a friend of Bear's and Bear's family, Darius must have spent a great deal of time around the young Indian maiden, perhaps even sharing a teepee, though in a completely chaste relationship as the Cherokee custom would have dictated—not to mention Darius's own strong Christian roots.
At the onset of spring, however, we read that Darius is getting "itchy feet" and is anxious to set out again. It seems as if the love story is coming to an abrupt and unsatisfying end as Darius leaves the village alone.
Darius is quite meticulous in the following journal entries as he records the sights, sounds, and life of what would one day become western Tennessee. So devoid is the narrative of any personal thoughts or feelings—or even the "impressions" he so frequently chronicled in the previous summer's writings—one gets the idea of a man trying to repress some deeply held thoughts and emotions.
In early June, after meeting with several other Indians—and fighting his way out of a couple scrapes, Darius Augustus Fitch arrived at the Great River, the Mississippi. Having never been sure before whether or not it was just a legend, Darius writes with awe (not just clinically, anymore) as he describes the unbelievable expanse of moving water with logs floating in it large as a house. He also expressed worries about the rest of his journey—not the least of which is wondering how he will get across the river.
Chapter Seven
Garison looked up at the woman—not long from being a girl, he realized—and asked, "Might I, um, might I have your name? It might make all of this seem a little more real." He extended his hand and said, "Mine's Garison Fitch."
She hesitated, but something in the man's eyes made her change her mind. She took his hand and felt how strong it was. The skin was tough like one who worked with his hands, but somehow softer than most of the men she knew. The touch of his hand somehow, though it made no sense to her even at the time, convinced her that the man wasn't insane. Lost, maybe. Hurt, maybe. Strange, definitely, but not insane. She smiled, "Sarah."
He nodded and when it became evident that no last name was forthcoming, he smiled, "I'm very pleased to meet you, Sarah."
When she had taken his hand a brief headache started at the front of his head and coursed through his whole body in a moment of pain like he'd never felt before. Just as suddenly as it came, it was gone. There had been just enough time for him to say, "Ow!" quite emphatically.
He had momentarily squeezed her hand quite hard and she had jerked away, but when she saw the look of anguish on his face and the way his hands went to his head, she asked, "Are you all right?" She hadn't really wanted to ask, but it was in her nature to look after others' needs.
"I'm fine," he said, his voice barely a whisper at first. Not really meaning to be talking outloud, he said, "That was weird!" Then, looking up, he said, "For a second there, I had the worst headache I have ever had in my life. Then it was gone as quickly as it
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