Errors
To understand a man you must know his memories.
Fredrich Nietzsche
The odor was barely discernible in the frosty Kentucky air. Daniel Boone stood still, his shoulders slumped in distress. He released a deep sigh. Beside him Mingo stood silently, his dark eyes sliding from one still form to the other. The two Cherokee trappers had been dead several days. December cold had preserved their bodies in grotesque postures. Mingo bent and retrieved a piece of a broken knife blade. He held it in the palm of his brown hand.
"A white man, Daniel." Mingo pointed to the frozen ground. Deeply incised in the Kentucky soil was a single footprint, the square heel easily visible. The track was made by a boot, not a moccasin. The temperatures had been above freezing for four days the previous week. Then the December cold returned with a light snow. The killing had to have taken place during the warm spell for the ground to be imprinted.
Scattered around the ruined camp were the remains of two knives, the blades broken. Both the men's rifles had been likewise shattered. Whoever had destroyed the two lives had done it brutally, with understanding of Indian ways. Mingo knelt beside the nearest trapper and carefully lifted the man's frozen right hand. The first knuckle had been taken from the middle three fingers. The warrior would not be able to fire a rifle or shoot a bow in the next world. He would be maimed for all eternity. Bitterly Mingo spat onto the frozen earth.
"Who is the nearest settler, Daniel? Who would know of travelers in this area?"
Daniel swallowed and avoided Mingo's burning eyes. He knew the nearest settler. It was Joseph Garth. The silence lingered until Mingo frowned in puzzlement. He stood and stepped before his friend, trying to look into Daniel's downcast eyes.
"Daniel? What are you trying to avoid telling me?"
Raising his light green eyes Daniel attempted to keep his voice from betraying his suspicions to Mingo. "The nearest settler is to the west. A man and his wife, from Virginia." In the returned silence Mingo pieced the slight clues together and added a name to Daniel's description.
"Joseph Garth! He would indeed be capable of this murder, Daniel. I remember how brutal and hate-filled he was. I sincerely doubt that a move into Kentucky has mellowed him to any degree."
"That's exactly why I didn't want to tell you Mingo. You're jumpin' to conclusions based on your memories of the man. He's prob'bly completely innocent."
Mingo's eyes narrowed as he remembered his treatment at the hands of Joseph Garth. The miner had treated the honey he'd given to the Tuscarora with nightshade, causing everyone in the camp to drop into a hallucinogenic trance. He, Daniel and Jeremiah had been in the camp and were drugged also. He was taken to the Garth coal mine along with all the young Tuscarora men. Once there they were put to work mining coal for Joseph Garth. Mingo's eyes flashed with angry fire as he remembered the humiliation suffered at the hands of the driven man.
"Daniel, I am going to his cabin to question him. I believe that he is a likely suspect in these murders. You don't have to accompany me. You may continue on to Boonesborough. I will stash my load of furs here and return for them later." Realizing how blunt his words must sound to his friend, Mingo's eyes softened as he continued. "Rebecca and Israel are no doubt anxiously awaiting your return."
Daniel looked deeply into Mingo's eyes for several seconds. He could see the anger and judgment residing there. He slipped the furs from his back as he spoke. "Mingo, I'm goin' with you. I don't have any great fondness for Joseph Garth either. But he does have the right to be considered innocent."
Mingo did not accept the chastisement well. He clenched his jaw and advanced toward his tall companion. "Like I was considered innocent, Daniel, under similar circumstances?"
Daniel blushed slightly as he too remembered the incident that nearly cost Mingo his life. The Silas Morgan family was brutally murdered on the trail to Boonesborough. Silas had just whipped Mingo for interfering with a cheating trade he was attempting. The brutal whipping continued until the blood streamed down the Cherokee's strong back and he fell into unconsciousness. The scars Mingo carried on his lean body were not as damaging as those he carried in his heart.
Daniel knew that those scars were keeping his friend from being as fair as usual. Combined with the wounds that Joseph Garth inflicted, Mingo was now nearly incapable of being objective. The dead Cherokee before them were an additional tally to the total heart wounds.
With an angry glance at Daniel, Mingo too slipped the fur pack from his shoulders. He silently began to gather brush to cover the year's catch. Daniel worked beside him for more than an hour. No words passed between the two. Anger and memories were a very effective barrier. The afternoon sun began to weaken as they finished their task and turned to lifting the dead Cherokee into the nearby trees.
Though the winter darkness was upon them Mingo would not remain overnight in the place of death. After both warriors were securely wedged into a tall cottonwood's branches he silently bent, retrieved his rifle and camp pack, then strode purposefully into the surrounding forest. Daniel watched him for several seconds before likewise taking his equipment and following the rigid back of his disappearing friend.
Mingo stopped a half-mile from the massacre site and still in silence leaned his rifle and pack against an outcropping of limestone. He stepped forward and picked up a stick of firewood, following the same direction for several more steps as he gathered. Daniel cleared a space on the frozen ground only a few feet in front of the outcropping. He picked up small sticks to use as tinder and had a fire started in only a few minutes. While Mingo continued to gather firewood he scooped clean snow into his coffeepot from the leeward side of the trees. He had coffee started before Mingo returned with his arms full of firewood.
Mingo filled his camp pot with clean snow, dropped in the frozen chunk of venison he'd saved from their last kill, and set the pot into the flames to boil. The two men sat before the warm fire, alone with their thoughts. The winter moon began to rise in the east throwing cold blue shadows upon them. Finally Daniel turned to the silent Cherokee beside him, his long arms wrapped around his body, his long legs bent and crossed before him.
"Mingo, I'll talk to the Garths alone if you don't think you can without already judging him guilty."
Mingo's eyes bored into Daniel's, the anger clearly visible in the dark orbs. Daniel set his jaw stubbornly and continued to face his most trusted friend. Mingo's brows lowered and his eyes narrowed as the anger took hold of his mind.
"Montaige said 'Nothing fixes a thing so intensely in the memory as the wish to forget it.' That describes my situation perfectly. Days pass by and I don't think about Silas Morgan. Then something happens and the memory returns in all its horror. All its horror, Daniel!" Mingo unconsciously shifted further away from Daniel's side. The involuntary movement pierced Daniel's heart and he dropped his eyes to hide the pain. He understood Mingo's last words perfectly.
Softly the tall Kentuckian spilled words into the night. They steamed in the bitter cold. "Mingo, I'm a magistrate. In that role I'm responsible for administering the law. I don't have to agree with it or disagree with it. It is a condition of the office."
Mingo's head turned so quickly that his black braids swung around his shoulders. "Exactly! The office meant more to you than my life."
"No, Mingo, no! You don't understand. I HAD to take you into custody to protect you."
"Am I a child that I need your protection? You see Daniel, with every word you insult me more."
Mingo leaped to his feet and strode into the surrounding darkness.
Before the fire Daniel pondered Mingo's last words. They had been spoken with deep sorrow. Alone before the warmth and light of the fire Daniel began to understand Mingo's viewpoint. In the dark winter night Daniel sat silently, the fragrance of boiling venison no temptation as he struggled with his new knowledge.