Chapter 1
Deep snow covered the Kentucky forest. Mingo crept silently, following the fresh trail of a large deer. He stopped and looked as far ahead as the thick forest permitted. Then he frowned. Borne upon the light winter breeze he could plainly hear a woman's voice raised in song.
He followed the sound to its source. A small cave was recessed into a rocky hillside, and at the cave's mouth was a woman. She sat and rocked forcefully, her voice continuing a kind of sing-song chant. He could make out the words but couldn't understand why she was singing such an odd song in the middle of the cold Kentucky forest.
"Charlie's neat and Charlie's sweet and Charlie he's a dandy….." Over and over she repeated the phrase as she rocked. In her arms Mingo could see a small bundle. At the distance he couldn't be certain but every indication was that the woman was rocking a small baby. As he stood partially hidden beside a thick sycamore tree a young man approached the cave from the south. In his right hand he carried a hunter's rifle and in his left a freshly killed turkey. As Mingo watched he bent and kissed the woman's forehead softly. Then he sat near her and plucked the turkey. All the while the young woman rocked and sang, totally oblivious to the young man's presence.
Suddenly she screamed, dropped the bundle and scrambled to her feet. The young man dropped the turkey and followed her. She fled several yards into the forest, frantically searching. He watched as the young man pulled the woman into his arms and held tightly. He could hear the woman's piercing screams and the man's voice soothing, soothing. Mingo hurried into the cave mouth and bent worriedly over the bundle. When he carefully lifted it he found that it contained an oddly shaped rock. It bore a slight resemblance to a human baby. Understanding flashed through his agile mind. The woman was deranged. Shaking his head in sympathy, he bent and quickly cleaned the turkey. Then he laid the carcass down and left to gather as much firewood as he could before the winter light faded completely. His own hunt was forgotten as he prepared to help the young couple.
As he gathered as much firewood as he could carry he noticed an area of disturbed ground. The snow had been pushed aside and a pile of rocks stacked in its place. The frozen ground bore evidence that it had been hacked by a knife. By the placement and size Mingo understood that he was looking at a grave. A baby's grave. The small wooden cross had been created from two pieces of carved firewood. He closed his eyes and bowed his head. Several seconds passed before he continued his search for wood. The baby must be the child of the young couple. The wife must have lost her mind with grief. Tragedy was common in the wilderness of Kentucky and Mingo had witnessed much anguish himself. But he knew nothing could compare with a mother's grief at the death of her child.
When he again came in sight of the cave he noticed the little donkey tethered to a sapling near the cave. The two people were back near the mouth. From a distance Mingo watched the young man puzzle over the cleaned turkey. Smiling, he hailed the couple from the shelter of the trees. The young man instantly crouched and grabbed his rifle, pulling his wife down beside him as she stood swaying and singing in the cave's mouth. She fell hard and began to wail. The distracted young man pointed his rifle in Mingo's direction but reached for his wife. In those few seconds Mingo saw his opening. He called from the shelter of another large sycamore.
"I mean you no harm. I cleaned your turkey for you, and I have an armload of wood for you now. May I come into your camp?"
The young man's voice was clear and indicated a sense of caution. "Show yourself first."
Mingo walked around the tree, alertly watching the other man's trigger finger. When the young man's hand moved to jerk the trigger Mingo leaped behind the tree. The ball whizzed beside the sycamore at the exact place he had been standing a second before. While the rifle was empty Mingo rushed at the young man, who stood and swung the rifle as a club. When the barrel swished at his head Mingo ducked and grabbed the rifle with his right hand. With his left arm he encircled the young man's throat. The rifle dropped. The youth struggled against the tall Cherokee's strong grasp. At his feet the young woman continued her high-pitched wail.
"Stop! I am not your enemy. I only wish to help you."
"What help? You're an Indian." Mingo's cultured English accent had not penetrated the youth's perceptions. The young man tried to pull Mingo's arm away from his throat. Mingo responded by shaking his slight young body.
"What does that matter if I can help you? Think, man! You need my help. You wife needs my help."
At mention of his wife the young man ceased his struggle. He slumped against Mingo's chest in total defeat. At his feet the woman grasped the Cherokee's trouser leg and began to pull herself upright. Mingo gave her his free arm and she held tightly and leaned against him.
"Charlie's neat and Charlie's sweet and Charlie he's a dandy….." The nonsense phrase continued to pour from her lips as her empty eyes looked up into Mingo's face. Her husband turned his head against Mingo's chest and looked lovingly at her pale white face. He reached his right hand to touch her cheek. The gesture was not lost on the Cherokee. He slowly released his hold on the man's throat, allowing the husband to embrace his wife.
While the man held his singing wife Mingo dropped his pack against the cave wall. Then he spitted the young turkey over the small fire. He walked the few yards to retrieve the dropped armload of wood. As he passed by the young husband he leaned close. "I'll go and gather another armload before it gets completely dark. Don't shoot me by accident." Mingo's voice held a measure of humor intended to put the young couple at ease. Then he strode into the blue winter shadows.
Upon his return he noticed that the woman was now seated and once again cuddling the rock inside the blanket. He glanced at the young man who was sitting before the fire, his eyes focused on the bright flames. Mingo knelt and quietly dropped the wood, taking care not to startle the singing woman. The phrase continued to fly from her lips, her unfocused eyes blank in the firelight. He leaned his rifle against the nearest cave wall beside his pack. Then he reached into it and withdrew his coffeepot and coffee. He leaned over and spoke softly to the silent man.
"Is there water nearby?"
When the man didn't respond, Mingo touched his shoulder. The haunted eyes rose to his face. Mingo repeated the question and the young man pointed to the right. "How far?" Mingo's question went unanswered as the man returned his gaze to the dancing flames.
Mingo stood silently and looked at the two people. The woman was definitely out of her mind. The man didn't seem far behind her. Deep in thought Mingo walked in the direction the man had pointed. After a few minutes he heard the gurgle of water. The small stream was nearly frozen over but a small channel in the center remained open. He leaned far out and filled his coffeepot.
Back at the cave Mingo placed the coffee into the pot and set it into the campfire. He placed more wood on the fire, then walked a short distance deeper into the cave. A large pack was open propped against the back wall. He could see camp equipment and little else. A small pack rested nearby. Several blankets were rolled against the packs. After only a minute he returned and knelt beside the young man.
"If we move the fire deeper into the cave it will be warmer." Mingo touched the man's shoulder. "Did you hear me? We should move deeper into the cave."
The young man shook his head. "Melody won't go with me. I've tried. She just screams and screams. I don't know why." His voice was soft and held no inflection. Mingo's concern increased as he looked at the young man's face. It was totally devoid of expression, just like his voice. He had given up. Mingo shook his shoulder forcefully.
"Listen to me. Your wife needs care from you, not defeat. If we are to save her life we must get her farther into the cave. Now help me!" Mingo pulled the man to his feet and pushed him toward his swaying wife.
Mingo stood behind the woman and bent to lift her to her feet. Her husband stood in front of her and reached to take the blanketed rock. He exerted a pull for several seconds before she relinquished it. Then Mingo easily lifted her into his arms and carried her farther into the cave. As soon as the fire was out of her sight she began to scream. Mingo held her tightly and winced as the high pitched sound bounced off the limestone walls and into his sensitive ears. She struggled in his arms, her hands pulling at his long braided hair.
"Hush, hush." His deep voice crooned the word. Melody's screams continued until Mingo sat and began to rock her forcefully, mimicking her own previous rocking motions. His body leaned far forward and backward. The exaggerated motion seemed to calm her and her screams stopped. She shook with cold and stress.
"Bring a blanket, quickly," Mingo shouted to the dazed husband who continued to stand with the rock in his arms. He jumped and rushed to do Mingo's bidding. He draped the blanket over his wife's limp body. She lay quietly in Mingo's arms as he rocked back and forth. After a short five minutes she was soundly asleep. Still holding her closely, Mingo scooted back to lean against the cave's rear wall.
"Now, kindle a fire back here. Do it quickly. She is very cold. Didn't you notice?" Mingo's voice betrayed his impatience. Then he looked up and searched the man's young face. He couldn't be more than seventeen or eighteen. The woman was even younger. Mingo looked into her slack face. In the dim firelight he saw the deep circles around her eyes and frowned. He opened his coat, removed her cape and repositioned her body so that her back rested against his chest. His arm held her tightly against his warm body. He draped her cape over her chest, shoulders, and legs, then pulled the blanket close around them both. She felt as cold as the limestone wall at his back.
When the fire was kindled and light and warmth flowed into the chilly air Mingo completely stopped rocking and sat holding Melody warmly against his chest. Melody's husband brought the roasting turkey and warming water to the new fire and carefully positioned them. He looked up at the dark Indian holding his pale wife and swallowed.
"What are you going to do to us?"
Mingo shook his head in disbelief. Then he remembered their youth and sighed. "Son, I am going to help you. That is all. My name is Mingo. I am a Cherokee from a village a half-day's journey from this cave. What is your name, and what are you doing out here in the dead of winter?"
The youth sighed and sat close to the small fire. "I'm Dennis Dowling. Melody and I are from Boston. We married against our parents' wishes, and we decided to come west and start our lives together. We had a little cart at first but when we got to Salem they told us to leave it and walk or we wouldn't be through the mountains by winter. So we loaded the donkey and walked. We didn't think it would be this hard! I'm no fool. Not really. But Melody was with child and I didn't know it until we were in the mountains. She kept it from me for a long time. We couldn't go very fast but we just kept walking west until she couldn't go any more. The trail was too steep for her to ride the donkey.
There was nowhere to go for help. We rested in this cave for a week or so, and then the baby came. It wasn't time; it was too early. It was a little girl. There was so much blood." Dennis swallowed hard. "I burned her bloody skirt and blanket so the animals wouldn't come after us."
Dennis' voice was barely louder than a whisper now as he sank into the memory. "Melly screamed and screamed. I didn't know what to do to help her! I saw our cow calve once, but that's all. We weren't farmers. My family produces glassware. That's my trade. A glassblower! I don't know anything about babies." Mingo saw a shudder pass through the youth's body.
"Did she lose a great deal of blood?" Mingo's quiet question caused Dennis to swallow again and grip his arms with his hands. He nodded silently. "How long ago did the baby come?"
"A week ago. She stopped bleeding yesterday but now she's….well, you know." Dennis' voice trailed away into the darkness. "I love her so much. Your name is Mingo?" When Mingo nodded Dennis continued, his voice quiet as though talking to himself. "She was the prettiest little thing I ever saw. She came with her father to our shop to buy a set of table glasses as a surprise for her mother. Her family is well-to-do. They own a ship in the spice trade. I don't know if you noticed, but her eyes are such an unusual shade of blue that they're almost purple. And her hair is the prettiest shade of brown you've ever seen. It's shiny and soft as silk."
Mingo watched the obvious love wash over the young man's face. Against his chest Melody moaned and rolled her head on his shoulder. She was gradually absorbing enough warmth from his body to rise to consciousness. "Pour a cup of coffee for her now, Dennis. It should be brewed. We need to get her body temperature to rise."
Dennis did as Mingo instructed and brought a steaming tin cup to his wife. "Wait a bit. It's too hot right now and will burn her." Dennis nodded and sat beside Melody, gently smoothing her pale cheek.
"Would you like a cup of coffee Mingo?" When Mingo nodded Dennis rose and brought a cup. He set it beside Mingo and went back to stroking Melody's cheek. Mingo sipped the hot coffee gratefully. The cold of the limestone at his back and Melody's chilled body against his chest had drained his own warmth.
"You go ahead and eat. Then you can take over from me. We'll need to get her warmed through before she can begin to recover." Mingo finished his cup of coffee and held the empty cup out to Dennis. The young man poured another cup, then began to eat slices of roasted turkey. The minutes passed and the small space began to feel noticeably warmer.
"Dennis, I think we could give Melody the coffee now. It's still warm but shouldn't be too hot." Dennis was at Melody's side before Mingo finished speaking, holding the warm coffee to his wife's colorless lips.
"Melly, drink this sweetheart. It's just warm coffee. You'll feel better."
Melody opened her blue eyes and looked into Dennis's face. She obeyed him and swallowed a sip of coffee. He smiled radiantly and she sipped again. It took several minutes but Melody drank the entire cup. Then she sighed, closed her eyes and fell into a deep sleep.
"Shouldn't she eat too?" Dennis looked into Mingo's face for confirmation. He nodded and Dennis brought a slice of turkey for his wife.
"Wait, son. Let her sleep for a while. Then we'll feed her."
"Here, you eat this then. I'll bring you some more, and some more coffee." Mingo smiled at the complete change in Dennis' behavior. Affection for the slight youth began to grow in Mingo's heart.
"Tell me about your life, Mingo. You're a Cherokee and you said you live near here? What's a Cherokee?" Dennis's conversation streamed out of him as he grew accustomed to Mingo. His gratitude beamed from his bright brown eyes. Mingo swallowed the last of the turkey, drank his cup of coffee, and spent the next hour explaining Cherokee traditions and history.
When he finished his explanation Mingo yawned. "Dennis, I need to get up and stretch. You take my place. Melody's much warmer now and I think she'll wake soon. I don't want to scare her by my unfamiliarity."
Dennis carefully supported his wife's limp body as Mingo eased his stiff frame free. He stood and walked out of the cave into the February moonlight. Thirty minutes later he returned with another armload of wood.
He glanced at Dennis and saw the young man's eyes were closed and his breathing steady and deep. Pouring himself the last of the coffee, Mingo sat looking at the two young faces. Then he carefully draped another blanket over the two bodies, rolled into his own, and lay down before the fire.