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.

Talota's Rock

Chapter One

Prologue

When he entered his own lodge in Chota, the Cherokee village, Mingo was no longer a man of two worlds, a half-breed, as many called him; his mother, the daughter of a Cherokee chief, his father, an English officer and land surveyor. In Mingo's own words, while in the world outside, "he was a confusion to himself."

Cara Mingo was the name given to him by his mother. He was raised in the land the Cherokee, named Ken-tah-teh, or the Promised Land, with his Indian mother, and English father. It was a happy life until she died and his father had to return to England, taking a reluctant son with him.

As Mingo told him, when he confronted his estranged father many years later. "So you took me with you, a Cherokee boy, not yet a man." His father's reply, "You were my son." Mingo's quick retort, "I was your shame. A savage not fit for the back alleys of that jungle you called London!" As with many sons and fathers, theirs was not the best of relationships.

The life Mingo chose when he was old enough to choose was hers, that of the Cherokee. He returned to Ken-tah-teh, and made a life of his own. In his lodge, he could embrace the best of both worlds.

The bearskin rug on the floor had been taken from a valiant adversary who had almost killed him. His hand-stitched shirt, weapon's belt that held his knife and tomahawk, his bullwhip….and a pair of moccasins that no longer fit him, one of the last things his mother made for him before she died…these were his treasures.

Talota was her name, the Singing Wind, taken by the Great Spirit while he was that "Cherokee boy, not yet a man."

On the opposite side of the lodge were remnants of his other life. The life he was forced to accept after his mother's death...that of his English father. Educated at Oxford in London, Mingo had to live in the English aristocracy, but his heart and soul belonged to the Cherokee. Three things he brought with him from England, three books, Defoe's Robinson Crusoe, Gulliver's Travels by Swift and Shakespeare, his beloved Shakespeare. The rest of that life he left in the streets of London.

The Cherokee blood that ran inside him was stronger than that of his father's English blood. He returned to the land named Kentucky, called by most of the natives that lived there, "a dark and bloody ground." He liked his name better, "Ken-tah-teh," the Promised Land. It rolled off his English tongue like the beautiful name that it was. His was a constant struggle, called "white" by his native brothers and "savage" by the many white men who hated the Indian.

In his educated ways, he did his best to make peace between the two with patience and understanding. Forced to be thick skinned when insults came his way he had no hatred in his soul. His mother's gentle nature was also his. She had warned him of the two-edged sword he would walk. It was her wish that he try to make peace between the white man and the Indian.

It was dark as Mingo walked back to his camp by Birch Tree River. Close enough that the sound of running water was his lullaby every night, when finally he laid his head down to rest. The moon had been up for hours and lit his path back from Boonesborough, the first white settlement built in the untamed land known as Kentucky. It was founded by his friend and blood brother, Daniel Boone. They had been hunting all day.

Boonesborough was half a day's walk or more from Chota so when Mingo's life found him near Daniel, his family, and the people of the settlement, his camp near this- river became his home. It wasn't as big as his lodge in Chota, but it was near a special place for him.

Inside his lodge, the handsome Cherokee warrior was ready for a good night's sleep. The twilight air was still warm from the summer sun. Tired from the hunt, he laid his weapon's belt and whip by his rifle. His long raven hair covered his bare shoulders as he took off his shirt and lay on the deerskins that covered the floor. He smiled as he looked at the multi-colored patchwork quilt that was beside him, a gift from Rebecca Boone, Daniel's wife. She worried about him sleeping out in the "elements." He would not need the quilt this hot July evening. His eyes closed as he took a deep breath and began to reflect back to an earlier time.

Listening to the river run, he could hear his mother's soft voice of long ago. "Remember, Cara Mingo," she would say to him, "as long as you can hear the running water, the life of the Cherokee will be good. Fresh drinking water for our people, for the plants and animals, for the crops we grow. To wash you at each setting of the sun and to remind you to thank the Great Spirit for the life he has given us."

At that time, he was just a boy of eleven years, living with a fear even his own mother was not aware of. Something that gnawed at his insides, until one day he came face to face with it and overcame it….or at least he thought he had.