South of Illinois Territory
The young ensign pulled his red coat tighter around his body and shivered as he stood watch on the edge of the makeshift camp. The climate in the interior portion of this British territory in America made it difficult to become adjusted. The days were warm and humid, causing his heavy woolen coat and every garment beneath it to become uncomfortably damp with perspiration. When the sun went down, the temperature dropped as well and the uniform that hung on his thin frame now felt both cold and wet. At least, when he had been stationed on the eastern coast, he could count on the occasional sea breeze to even things out.
The small company to which he was currently attached was making its way west to the new garrison outpost of Fort Monro, not far from Spanish territory on the Mississippi River. They were still a few days, if not a week away and presently camped alarmingly close to the Continental held Fort Vincennes. There were also several native Indian tribes in the area, some of which were not on friendly terms with the British.
Thankfully, the night had been relatively quiet thus far, but the heavily wooded area that surrounded the camp was unnervingly dark and seemed to intensify even the slightest sound. The soldier shifted his rifle to the opposite shoulder and walked a few steps further from the camp. They had marched all day and he was tired. He was afraid that if he didn't keep moving he might actually fall asleep while standing.
He yawned and allowed his eyes to close for just a few moments, but they snapped open when he felt something cold and metallic press against his throat.
"Not a sound, Ensign Lindsay," a voice whispered in his ear. "Gently unshoulder your rifle and hand it back. Do as I ask and no one will be harmed."
The young man swallowed hard, but obeyed the command.
"Good. Now slowly back up with me."
The soldier started to nod, but thought better of it when the edge of the knife dug a little deeper into his neck. With careful, small steps, he and his abductor quietly slipped into the forest.
…..
Fort Cumberland, Kentucky Territory
"A return cargo?" Daniel Boone asked. He cocked his head and studied the officer in front of him.
The major nodded. "Yes, very important Captain Boone. And that is the reason that I asked for you. The gunpowder and rifles are vital to Fort Vincennes I assure you, but what you will be bringing back is of the utmost importance to our cause."
"And what exactly will we be bringing back?"
Major Griffin shook his head. "Unfortunately, I can't tell you. Not even I know. These orders came straight from General Washington. I will show you if you wish."
The frontiersman first looked to the Cherokee standing beside him and then back to the officer. "Not that I'm doubtin' your word, Major, but this does seem a mite peculiar. It might ease my mind if I do see those orders first hand."
Griffin nodded and gave his orderly the necessary instructions.
As they waited, Daniel turned to have a private conversation with the man at his side. "What do you think, Mingo?" he asked.
The Indian shrugged. "Well, you have been given some rather ambiguous assignments in the past. Perhaps it is the intent that attention not be drawn to this cargo by the use of military personnel."
"I suppose," the woodsman agreed.
The orderly returned and handed the folded paper to his superior, who turned it over to Boone.
"As you can see, Captain," Griffin said. "The General asked for a discreet courier that could both deliver the items to Vincennes and return with the cargo being held there. Colonel Baxter, the fort commandant, will provide you with further instruction upon your arrival. I know that General Washington has the utmost respect for you and your abilities."
Daniel shifted his weight uncomfortably. "Well, with such an endorsement, I don't really see as how I can refuse. When do we leave?"
Griffin nodded. "The wagon will be loaded and readied tomorrow morning."
…..
Fort Cumberland, Kentucky Territory
Mingo exited the guest quarters that he shared with Daniel Boone and took a deep breath. The morning air was surprisingly cool for June, but the cloudless sky was a sure sign that the day would heat up soon enough. He turned toward the east, but the sun had not yet risen above the tall stockade walls of Fort Cumberland. That was the problem with "civilization"; it blocked the signs and senses that he had come to rely on – such as knowing the time of day without the need to search for what may or may not be a reliable timepiece.
Daniel had left a few minutes ago to meet with Major Griffin for any final instructions. The Cherokee had offered to head to the livery stable to check on the wagon and team that would take them to Fort Vincennes. They had made a similar trip a couple years back when they, along with two Kentucky woodsmen, a young Shawnee squaw, a rogue Scotsman, and a reluctant Continental major, had transported a cannon from Williamsburg to the fort. He hoped this trip would be smoother and free of Redcoats.
"Gentlemen," the native greeted the two soldiers who were checking the harnesses. It was difficult to contain the sigh as they both tensed when they saw him. He had been to the fort more than a dozen times in the past few years and he witnessed that reaction at least once every time.
"I've come to see to the final preparations," he explained, gesturing toward the wagon.
One of the young soldiers nodded. "The wagon is loaded with the requested supplies, rifles, and gunpowder…. uh, sir."
Mingo tried to hide the smile. "Thank you, Corporal."
The soldiers exchanged a surprised glance, then nodded before turning smartly and walking rapidly toward the stable.
After taking a quick inventory of the contents of the wagon, Mingo returned to the guest quarters to retrieve their rifles and packs. Daniel was waiting for him when he came back.
"Ready?" the tall woodsman asked, taking the rifle from his friend.
"More than," the Cherokee admitted. "Let us be on our way. The sooner we leave, the sooner we will be done."
Daniel settled onto the wagon seat and waited until the native had done the same. He gave the reins a slap and the wagon jerked forward. At the gate, the guard saluted and Captain Boone returned the gesture.
When they where a short distance from the fort, the woodsman turned toward the man seated beside him. "Mingo, you don't exactly seem too happy about this trip," he observed as he gave the reins another slap to set the pace for the horses.
The Indian shook his head. "Oh it's not that I lack enthusiasm, Daniel. I just don't care for mysteries."
"When I'm not always partial to 'em myself," the frontiersman said, pushing his coonskin cap further back on his head. "But you were the one who pointed out that maybe discretion was needed for this assignment and according to Washington's orders that seems to be the case."
Mingo frowned. "General Washington has the entirety of the army at his disposal. Why would he need to disguise the mission? We are caring a few rifles and some gunpowder, but hardly enough to warrant clandestine activities."
"Don't forget about what we are bringing back," Daniel reminded.
The Cherokee sighed. "Oh I haven't. That appears to be the most secretive aspect."
It was Daniel's turn to frown. "You worried?"
"I'd say more wary than worried," Mingo said. "I just have this feeling that things will not go exactly according to plan."
…..
South of Illinois Territory
The two men had backed a few feet into the woods before Ensign Lindsay was swung around and ordered to move forward. He tried to turn back to see is captor, but the knife moved quickly from his throat to the middle of his back between his shoulder blades.
"Same rules still apply, Ensign. Don't make any noise or do anything to call attention to yourself," the voice behind him said quietly. "I assure you that you would be dead before anyone could help you. Now, keep walking straight until I tell you to stop."
The young British officer kept his head up and still, but glanced around with just his eyes. The thick trees allowed little light to penetrate and, while his eyes had adjusted somewhat to the darkness, he could not make out any real details.
"Who are you?" he asked, but was rewarded with an increase in pressure from the knife.
"No talking, remember?"
Lindsay tried to recall the training he had received not all that long ago about what one should do if captured. 'Try to discover as much information as possible before attempting to execute a plan' his instructor had told the cadets. All he knew thus far, he thought grimly, was that there seemed to be only one man who was not interested in a conversation.
Only one man; the realization came to him. Surely he could overpower a single individual, couldn't he? He just had to wait for the right time and place, perhaps create some type of diversion.
They walked a few more minutes and finally the officer saw what he was looking for - a clump of trees on one side and a rocky outcropping on the other. If he could catch the man unaware, he could strike out and find a suitable place for cover. He took a deep breath and spun hard to his right, knocking the man off balance. He was about to make a mad dash for the trees, but stopped short when he heard multiple rifles being cocked.
"I wouldn't try it if I were you Ensign, " another man warned as he stepped from behind the outcrop. Several more men, each carrying a rifle, showed themselves from behind the trees.
The Redcoat's eyes grew wide with recognition. He was surrounded by the rebel army.