God bears with the wicked, but not forever.
Cervantes
Mingo crouched behind a clump of sumac bushes. He carefully watched the man before him. He could hear another man's voice raised in anger and a child crying. Inching forward he could see the two wagons through the trees. As he watched the stocky man with several days beard growth brutally pulled on the team's reins, causing the frightened horses to roll their eyes. The man leaned over and hitched the team to the first wagon.
On the side of the wagon away from him Mingo could see a skirt brushing the ground. Then a small girl toddled under the wagon, her pale face streaked with tears. She stood sucking two fingers as she watched the man pull the reins, pinching the horses' mouths painfully. The near horse kicked out in pain and the child caught the hoof in the center of her chest. She flew several feet through the air, landed hard and did not move.
Mingo lurched forward but he stopped suddenly as through the trees before him rushed a small man, his face red with anger. From his sheltered observation post Mingo saw a young woman skitter from behind the wagon just as the stranger bent over the still form of the little girl. The young woman began to scream and beat her fists against her head. Another woman rushed to her side from the shadow of the second wagon.
The stranger knelt beside the still child and touched his hand to her chest. Beside him the woman screamed uncontrollably as the second woman tried to pull her away. The bearded man stood unemotionally beside the agitated horses. The small man gently lifted the little girl and turned to the two women.
"Where can I lay her down? Listen to me! Where can I lay her?"
The second woman beckoned the buckskinned man as she dragged the screaming mother toward the near wagon. Another man appeared, his features amazingly like the first man's. Two boys came to stand stoically beside him. Mingo watched everything from the shelter of his hiding place.
The younger man shouted to the stranger, "We can't stay here all day waitin' for the little maggot to die!" The faces of the two boys beside him registered no emotion at all. Mingo's concern grew as he saw them turn and disappear behind the second wagon. The man's cruel words caused him to clench his hands in anger.
Suddenly a woman's high-pitched scream echoed off the surrounding trees. The horses pawed the ground nervously and pitched forward against their harness. The brutal man beside them clubbed the first horse over the end of his sensitive nose with a piece of firewood. The animal's squeal of pain blended with the woman's screams. Just then the stranger reappeared and roughly took the man's arm.
"I need a shovel. I'm goin' to bury that child decent, and you're goin' to wait 'til I do!"
To Mingo's surprise the bearded man laughed, the sound reminiscent of leather dragged over gravel. The slight man reacted by grabbing the man's collar. "I said I need a shovel."
"So you did, mister. And I'm goin' to get you one." The stocky man sauntered to the wagon bed and lifted a shovel from the contents. "Here you go. Knock yourself out."
The stranger's rugged face registered his disbelief. "Don't you have any feelin's? That little girl was your daughter, wasn't she?"
"So?"
From the forest Mingo could see the other man's eyes grow wide in anger. 'Don't do it,' Mingo said in his mind. He held his breath and tightened his muscles, ready to spring to the stranger's defense. But the slight man only grabbed the shovel and strode angrily around the wagon.
Above the sound of the shovel rose the high keening wail of a grieving woman. Shivers ran up Mingo's spine as the sound continued. The bearded man strode around the wagon and Mingo heard the sharp sound of the slap. Instantly the wailing stopped.
"What'd you do that for mister? That ain't right!" Mingo heard the stranger's voice raised in anger. Uncoiling his whip as he ran, Mingo dodged through the trees to circle behind the bearded man. Just as the brute lurched for the stranger's throat, the small man swung his shovel and struck a heavy blow to his attacker's head. The sharp bark of a rifle sent a ball into the slender man's left side.
Mingo cracked his whip and disarmed the other traveler. Drawing the whip in another whistling arc he caught the shooter's right hand, splitting a five inch gash in the palm. Both boys stood stiffly behind the howling man. The stranger leaned against the nearest tree, his left hand pressed over the bloody hole in his side.
The two women sat huddled together on the ground and looked at the tall Cherokee standing over them. On the ground before them lay the body of the little girl, her chest bloody and her blue eyes staring sightlessly at the leafy vault above her. Mingo gestured to the women.
"This man needs care. Please help him to sit."
Neither woman moved. They continued to stare at Mingo, fear plainly written on their features. He moved carefully to the woodsman's side, never taking his eyes off the cursing man with the bloody palm.
"Can you sit?" he asked the wounded man. He nodded, and slowly sank to the ground, holding his breath against the pain. Mingo bent and picked up the other man's rifle, balancing it carefully across the sitting man's knees. Then, dropping his whip, he pulled a length of rope from his pack and tied the unconscious man that had dropped from the shovel blow. He strode to the other man and roughly pushed him to sit in front of a wagon wheel. He pulled the man's hands through the wheel, then tied him firmly to the wooden spokes.
"Boys, can you help me?" Mingo spoke to the two boys who appeared to be near the ages of six and eight. Neither child gave any indication that they heard his question. Mingo cocked his head as he waited. When they remained speechless, he turned to the two women.
"Ma'am," he said to the younger woman. "Please help us. I will bury the child. I mean no harm to any of you. This man tried to help you. I think he deserves your care, don't you?"
After several seconds the younger woman rose and stepped to the wounded man's side. She bent and helped him rise, then they rounded the corner of the wagon out of Mingo's sight. Mingo then turned his attention to the child and her partly dug grave. Sorrowfully he finished digging. The child's mother remained beside the little girl, rocking in grief. When he finished the grave, Mingo bent to the young mother.
"Do you have a blanket to wrap her body?" His voice was soft and sympathetic. She responded to his tone, silently rose and reached into the wagon for a blanket. She handed it to him and watched passively as he tenderly wrapped the little body. Then he laid her in the grave and filled it. When the earth was all smoothed the young mother lay down silently upon it. Mingo left her there to grieve and went to check on the small hunter.
Mingo found him lying on the ground with a folded cloth over the wound. His face was pale and moist, his eyes closed. Mingo touched his shoulder and the man opened his blue eyes. Suddenly Mingo's mind reached for a memory thread. The small man beckoned for Mingo to bend.
"This woman told me she and the other woman, I think she said her name was Pearl, want to get away from these two. I guess what we saw here is just an example of what their life's been like."
Mingo stared into the other man's eyes. The hunter frowned. "What'er you lookin' at me like that for, Injun. You look like you think I'm agoin' to turn into a haint."
"Charles? You are Charles Hays, are you not?"
The buckskinned man tried to pull himself upright. Mingo pushed down on his shoulder and prevented the rise. Then he reached and pulled his long black hair behind his head. His dark eyes sparkled. The hunter stared at Mingo's face several seconds, searching.
"You taught me how to be at ease in the woods twelve years ago. Remember me now? There was a storm, and you shared my shelter."
"The young man with the books and the mule! Sure I remember. That storm seared my eyeballs and busted my eardrums. The mule 'bout pulled his fool head off. I cain't seem to grab a holt o' your name though."
"Mingo."
"That's it fer sure. I recollect that I thought your name didn't match your fancy way o' talkin'. It still don't. It do match your get-up though. I'm surely happy to have your comp'ny agin. I'd fergot that you could crack a whip liken a rifle shot!"
"We can talk later, Charles. Now I want to see how badly you're wounded."
"Wall, I been shot worse and mauled worse. But I won't say this ball don't hurt."
Mingo pulled the cloth off the wound. The woman had cleaned the blood from the wound but not extracted the ball. Mingo carefully examined the hole, then rolled Charles to the side and looked at his back. He could see where the ball was lodged, near the surface in Charles' lower back.
"Charles, I can see the ball under your skin. That's actually a blessing. I can easily
remove it." Mingo patted Charles' shoulder encouragingly.
Charles lay full length on the ground. Mingo looked up and saw the young woman coming through the woods towards them. She carried a load of firewood. Mingo took out his flint and steel and made a quick fire. Silently she placed a metal pot of water on the fire. Mingo slipped his knife out of its sheath and placed the top two inches in the flame.
"Madam, my name is Mingo. Thank you for your help. What may I call you?"
"Name's Justina."
Mingo looked into her hazel eyes and was disturbed by their expression. Resignation resided there, and a barely hidden desperation. A current of anger flowed just under the other emotions. Now that he was close to her he could see healed scars on both cheeks. She noticed the direction of his gaze and covered both her cheeks with her hands. Mingo looked away and checked the temperature of the water.
"Do you have another cloth to use as a bandage? Maybe a towel?"
Justina reached into the wagon and pulled out a small face towel. Mingo went to Charles' side and uncoiled his whip. Charles understood and placed a length of the whip between his teeth. Then with Mingo's help he rolled onto his stomach, gripped the wagon wheel in both hands, and nodded his head. Mingo pulled his shirt up, firmly grasped his knife and cut an inch gash across the raised bump on Charles' lower back. Charles stiffened in pain and bit down hard on the leather braid. Mingo reached his knife tip under the ball and flipped it out. Then he pressed the towel against Charles' bleeding back.
"Justina, hand me a strip from you underskirt please." Mingo wound the strip over the towel, pulled Charles' shirt down over the wound, and covered him carefully with his own blanket. As Mingo stood he became aware of a moaning wail from the child's grave. He turned to Justina and motioned for her to come close.
"Charles told me that you and Pearl wish to leave these two men. Is that so?" Mingo's voice was soft and his expression was anxious. He was faced with a wounded man, two women and two children miles from any town. The two men were unlikely to let them go far unmolested.
Justina looked into Mingo's worried face and nodded. "I can shoot. And so can Pearl, if'n she has to."
"What about the two boys? They are your sons?"
"No sir, they ain't. They belong to Horace. The man who's married to me."
"Are you planning on taking them with you, then?"
"No way, no how. Horace'd use that as an excuse to come after me. If'n I leave 'em, maybe he won't bother."
"What about Pearl?"
"You seen what Oscar's like. You think she wants to stay with him?"
"Does she have any other children besides the little girl?"
"Nope, and now she don't have Ladybug neither."
Mingo was taken aback at the lack of emotion in Justina's eyes. Her voice was as expressionless as if she was reading a list. In the bright daylight he could see that the scars on her cheeks had been made by a knife. Once again she noticed his gaze and put her hands up to her face.
"Horace done that last winter when I dared to question his decision about comin' out here. Said he couldn't abide no wife of his back-talkin' and wanted me to never ferget that."
Mingo drew in his breath sharply. Brutality was not unknown to him, but he had never before known of men as cold as these two must be. Quickly his mind decided to put as much distance as possible between the two men and those in his care. He strode to Charles' side and leaned over the other man.
Charles tried to sit up. Mingo pushed him back down. "Not now. Lay there and rest. I'll make ready and then get you." Mingo patted his shoulder and went to the second wagon. Justina stood nearby, watching him. He silently beckoned to her.
"We will take all four horses. Gather only the bare necessities for you and Pearl, roll them and tie them. Take only the barest cooking utensils."
Justina nodded and began throwing Horace's belongings out of the wagon as she dug for her things. From his place tied to the wheel Horace cursed and bellowed, straining against his tight bonds. When Justina passed in front of him to gather Pearl's things she did not move far enough away and he kicked behind her knees and dropped her right in front of him. He kicked her twice in the side before she could get up. As he readied for another kick Mingo brought his foot down in the man's groin and pressed hard.
Horace's high-pitched yelp caused the horses to partially rear in their harness. They jerked the wagon forward, dragging the bound man with them. The wheel rotated as far as it could, twisting Horace's body as it revolved. His left shoulder was badly wrenched.
Mingo quickly sprang for the nearest horse and quieted it. Horace continued to yell and curse, causing all four horses to roll their eyes in panic.
"Justina, come here quickly! Hold these horses and quiet them."
Mingo trotted to the other team and quieted them with his gentle hands and soft voice. They looked at him with wide eyes. Their experiences warned them to beware of all men
but Mingo's gentle manner encouraged them to settle. Soon they were standing quietly. Not so the team Justina held. She had no experience with horses and the off horse was nearly panicked enough to run.
"Mingo!" Charles' voice was filled with urgency. "Justina can't hold the horses!"
Mingo ran the ten yards to stand opposite of Justina. He gently stroked the horse and spoke softly in its ear. After a few minutes both horses quieted and stood still. Mingo nodded to Justina and she continued to gather belongings.
She held her side where Horace had kicked her, walking in a crouch to lessen the pain. Mingo watched her and shook his head with anger. He released the team and tied them to the nearest tree. Then he walked to Justina's side.
"Are your ribs broken?" he asked softly.
"I don't think so. He wasn't sittin' square or he'd a broke 'em for sure. I was stupid to walk so close. Deserved what I got."
Mingo grasped her arm firmly. "Don't ever say that. No one deserves to be treated like you've been treated. No one." She lifted her hazel eyes to his, puzzlement and doubt evident in her gaze.
"If you will finish gathering what you and Pearl need I will start packing the horses."
Justina nodded and Mingo walked back to the rear team and unhitched them from the wagon. He stripped off the harness, cutting the reins shorter to be easily used. He tied them to the wagon tongue.
Pearl began to wail as Justina tried to pull her off her child's grave. Horace let loose with another string of curses. "Stupid dumb slut. Shut up! You sound like a damned panther a'screechin'!"
Mingo reached into the wagon, pulled out a man's shirt, tore a sleeve free and quickly tied the gag into the foul man's mouth. He did the same to Oscar, who remained unconscious from the blow Charles delivered. Then he walked to Pearl and helped Justina raise her. She continued to wail and beat her hands against her head. Together they dragged her to the tied horses.
"Stay with her," Mingo said. He tied the small bundles Justina had prepared and tossed them over the horses' withers. Then he did the same to his pack and Charles'. Finally, he bent and helped Charles to his feet. The small man balanced himself against the horse's body, steadying himself. After several seconds he nodded to Mingo and the Cherokee boosted him onto the horse. Justina and Mingo helped Pearl onto her horse, then Mingo helped Justina mount.
He made one final tour of the camp, looking for anything they had missed. He gathered Charles' rifle, one of the traveler's rifles and his own, rolled his whip, threw the other rifle out into the woods, threw the shot pouches and powder horns the opposite way, then mounted his own horse.
Just as he turned the horse's head he remembered the two boys. "Justina, where are the boys?"
She shrugged carelessly. Mingo frowned and she nudged her horse near his. "You got no reason to be aworryin' about them boys. They're wilder 'n coons. They'll come back 'n untie their pa. We'd best be gettin'on down the road a ways afore they unloose their daddy. I'm thinkin' Horace 'n Oscar'll prob'bly come after us, just 'cause they don't like losing what belongs to 'em. And they think me 'n Pearl belongs to 'em. Maybe the boys'll slow 'em down a mite."
Mingo looked at Charles, leaning on his horse's neck. "Charles? Can you ride?"
Charles straightened and stiffened his spine. "Let's go Mingo. We'd best get as far as we can afore night. These two varmints can prob'bly see in the dark like weasels."
Mingo nodded, moved his horse behind the other three to act as rear guard, and the four new companions headed west with the sun.