Parsons was a cold, miserable mess of a town. Walnut was worse.

It occurs to me that I have forgetten to mention Glendale, AKA Walnut.
While buying goods in town it seems the local school teacher shot someone in the hear over abuse of students and locals. He then proceeded to try and shoot me. Naturally I took cover, but alerted my friends to his injustices and we gave chase. While unable to catch up with him we were able to give the local constabulaty enough information so that justice was done. I understand he danced in the winds somewhat south of town, a fitting punishment for his transgressions.
After leaving Osage Mission we tramped through some bad weather and made it to Parsons just as the sleet hit. On the way I shared with my companions my thoughts upon the possible fate of Dr. York.
First, he could have been done in by natural dangers along the trail, being thrown from his horse, snakes, bad weather and the like, but as a strapping man in his thirties and well experienced with the trail I considered this a insignificant possibility.
Second, he might have been done in by the human dangers of the Trace, Indians, desperados, criminals and such are all too commonplace in these parts, as we have seen, but again, this seems unlikely, Dr. York was a former military man and quite competent in his bearing and manners.
Finally, there was the far more likely possibility that the good Dr. York was done in by some of the good and civil resident of the fine towns and settlements along the trail. Nothing broods evil better than independence, isolation and civility after all.
I was thankful to make it to town before the bad weather, but alas, my companions decided to inquire with the local Sheriff, a man who refused to call himself such. He tasked us with trying to find out what happened to a certain local doctor, and in an apparent frenzy in regards to missing Doctors my companions decided to trek out and try and find the man.
They sent a Deputy Brumsley along with us to help out.
Deputy Brumsley had an impressive moustache and it seemed to interfere with my companions understanding of his statements. He was quite clear in his meaning and enuciation to me but my companions insisted he was speaking in tongues. Clearly my services as a translator were required. Sadly it sleeted the entire time we were out and I shall be lucky not to catch my death of a cold due to the hours we spent larking about the countryside in a futile effort to find the missing doctor.
At the Doctor's residence I discovered a patch of blood on the floor near his bed and on the ceiling of his loft. He must have hit his head there before he wandered off, probably to his demise. I also discovered a wonderful bottle of Basil Hayden that I brough alone with me on my journeys. I am sure it is the reason I did not take ill after its conclusion.
We eventually wandered to a nearby residence that involved children who confirmed the Doctor had hit his head when the summoned him to come to their household. He never made it there and I am sure they will find his body somewhere between the two locations as soon as the weather improves.
We returned to town and inquired about the good Dr. York only to find out he had not stayed at any of the local hotels but did dine there in some somewhat dubious restaurant called the Star I believe. They mentioned that he had passed along to Cherryville and was destined for some place called the Bender Inn. Since Cherryville is the last place before Independence, his home, suddenly the Bender Inn has become the number one suspect in regards to his disappearance. We shall see, we arrive there tomorrow.