Disclaimer: The following work has been written solely for the enjoyment of fans and not for monetary profit. The rights to the characters initially created for the Daniel Boone series belong to 20th Century Fox and Fess Parker. All other characters are of the author's own creation. No copyright violation is intended.
His Songbird
SUMMER
Chapter 1
The warming glow of an August day found two friends walking through a cornfield. 'If a Kentucky sunset doesn't take your breath away, then you're no Kentuckian.' Daniel Boone had been heard to say. This year, however, the sunshine had not worked in their favor. The tall buckskin-clad frontiersman ambled through the field of corn by his cabin---his Cherokee blood brother walked beside him.
"It does not look promising, Daniel." the handsome, copper-skinned native remarked in his Oxford-educated tongue. "These stalks should be to my shoulders by now and much greener."
The leaves on the plants were dried up and withered as they both inspected the sad yield. Corn was a staple in the young growing land they called home---Kentucky.
"Too dry, Mingo," Daniel answered. "It's the same with the beans, peas, and the greens. Good thing we had an early spring plantin' and harvest, when there was plenty of rain. We might be lookin' at a long, hungry winter if we don't start to ration a little bit now."
All the people of Boonesborough were in the same predicament. A warm and rainy spring saw the settlers planting crops with the expectations of a good harvest. But the rains slowed in late June. July was dry, and August even drier. The harvest was a meager one, especially the corn crop that was used in many different ways.
Mingo picked up a puny-looking ear of corn. The kernels were shriveled instead of plump and juicy. "I am not certain even the wild geese would eat this." He tossed it to the ground. "It will be a long winter, Daniel, with no vegetables."
The big man nodded, as they walked toward the Boone cabin. "Becky's already pickled some of the early beans and beets dried some peas. She put up some strawberry and cherry preserves even dried some of the cherries."
Both tall men sat down on the edge of the porch and stretched out their legs. The warm wind that kicked up the dust at their feet only reminded them of the drought the settlement was facing.
"We better have Cincinnatus put in some extra flour, sugar, molasses, and make sure we keep the chickens happy and safe from varmints," Daniel said with a smile on his face. "And see if we can find us a couple more milk cows. We might be eatin' custard all winter."
"And get as much game as we can to salt and make jerky with," Mingo added. He nudged his friend in the ribs. "The only one who will be happy about not having enough greens for the winter will be…."
"Israel!" They both answered in unison.
Israel Boone was Daniel's youngest, a blond-haired bundle of energy, who regularly made it a point to state his opinions on eating vegetables. "Criminently, Pa, you'd think we was rabbits the way you and Ma go on 'bout eatin my greens," the youngster would say.
"Chota has not fared any better," Mingo said, as he looked in the direction of his people's village. "My uncle Menewa told me their harvest would be just enough to get them through the winter, or he would surely share with the people of Boonesborough."
"Well, that's right nice of your uncle, Mingo," Daniel said. "I expect we'll just have to build us a couple more root cellars, and put away what we can of the beets, bush beans and peas we put in early. At least we got two plantins' out of them before the drought hit us."
The Cherokee warrior stood and gazed at the clouds. He crossed his arms on his chest, and then turned back to his friend. "It is a peculiar thing, Daniel, how different weather can be from one valley to the next. One day, I foresee great minds studying those differences, much more than they are studied now."
Daniel's crooked smile appeared on his face. "What do you mean, Mingo? "Poor Richard's" been studyin' the weather for years."
The Cherokee rolled his eyes. "As much as I respect Mr. Franklin and his experiments, I believe these scholars will be looking at the sun, the moon, the wind and the water, and how they relate to the changing of the seasons. You know I do recall…"
Mingo was in a more talkative mood than usual. Big Daniel Boone felt an Oxford lecture coming his way. He stood up next to his friend and put a hand on his shoulder, cutting the lecture short. "You got your head in them stars again, Mingo. As much as I'd like to hear about those educated men, we got to figure out what we're gonna do without a healthy corn crop."
Mingo looked out over the stalks of the sweet, yellow vegetable that were withering in the late summer sun. "Daniel, I do not wish to entertain the thought of a winter without Rebecca's prize corn pudding."
"And let us not forget your prize-winning corn cakes," Daniel's face lit up in jest.
The Indian's scowl was a false one.
"Daniel now is neither the time nor the place to malign my cooking."
"Now hold on there, Mingo, I disagree. I think anytime and anyplace is a good time to 'me-lign' your cookin'. "
The big man had succeeded in escaping his learned friend's lecture on weather.
"I will remember that the next time you are starving on the trail, Daniel Boone," the Cherokee's dimples gave him away.
"Speakin' of cookin', Mingo, you are stayin' for supper, ain't you? I think Becky's makin' Irish stew."
The Cherokee groaned as his hands went to his stomach.
"Oh, Daniel, not tonight. You know I cannot stay. Why couldn't Rebecca be preparing pea soup or liver, instead of her Irish stew?"
Mingo's nose wrinkled, "I despise those dishes, but you know how I love her Irish stew." He thought about it, and then picked up his rifle and pack. "No, I must be on my way."
Daniel placed his hand on his friend's forehead, as he would one of his own children.
"Hmmmm, don't feel feverish to me."
The Cherokee rolled his eyes, "Daniel, must you always be so flippant?"
"Yes, Mingo. I'm afraid I must." the big man was mocking him. "But don't be foolin' me. You're gonna stop at Wild Geese Lake and catch some of them trout we saw the last time we was there."
Knowing he would not get in the last word, Mingo turned toward Boonesborough.
"Perhaps I will. It is on the way to my final destination. Menewa asked me to sit in council with Chief Standing Bear of the Choctaw. It seems some of our young braves crossed the river that divides Chota from Choctaw land, to hunt. He wants me to assure Standing Bear that it will not happen again. But first I need to stop and see Cincinnatus for some supplies." He put his nose up in the air and sniffed.
"Oh, Rebecca Boone, and your Irish stew. It will be all I can think of until I return."
Daniel chuckled at his friend's disappointment.
"And when will that be? We've got a lot of work to do before the snow flies ya know."
Mingo waved as he started toward the fort. "I will be gone for only a week or two, Daniel," he called. "I will be back in time to help you dig the new root cellars."
"I'll try and save you some stew!" Daniel shouted back and watched as Mingo waved again in disgust as well as hunger.