Chapter 1

The June afternoon was growing more threatening as the minutes passed. Charcoal grey storm clouds swirled and eddied above the two trotting men. Anxiously their eyes scanned the Kentucky hillsides for a cave, any cave.

Suddenly Daniel put out his hand and halted Mingo's rapid forward motion. "There! In that hillside. See it? Just what we're lookin' for."

Mingo nodded and together the two men trotted to the small entrance. Several feet from the opening the Kentucky vegetation seemed to halt. Though Mingo noticed the unusual lack of growing plants, he nevertheless gratefully entered the dry cave. Both men hurriedly dropped their rifles and packs, then scurried into the surrounding forest to gather as much firewood as possible before the storm broke.

Above them the heavy clouds growled in impatience. A blast of cold wind rushed from the storm's leading edge. Mingo dashed back into the cave just ahead of Daniel. He dashed back out and scooped a pot full of water from the tiny pond only yards from the entrance. Seconds later the first sprinkles of rain struck the hillside. Mingled with the cold rain were pea-sized hailstones. Mingo sprang back into the dry cave. He exchanged a look of relief with Daniel, then bent to start the fire and make a pot of welcome hot coffee.

An hour later Mingo stood and stretched. "This cave seems to go some distance into the hillside. I'm going to make certain that nothing malicious is sharing our shelter, Daniel."

"Good idea. I'd hate to wake up in the arms of a bear!" Daniel chuckled. "Though that would make a right good tale for the younguns." Daniel bent to the little fire and carefully moved the pot of coffee from the blaze. He placed his filled camp pot into the blaze and dropped in a dozen strips of jerky to soften.

Mingo grinned at his friend, bent, and gathered his rifle and shot pouch. He grasped the largest piece of firewood and laid it several seconds in the fire until it caught. Holding it aloft in his left hand, Mingo carefully balanced his rifle against his right side. He walked silently into the dark recesses of the cave.

Five minutes later he noticed a floor to ceiling slit in the cave wall. Bright light appeared to be streaming from this slit. Cautiously but curiously Mingo advanced toward the light. Seconds later he was standing totally amazed, staring at the crack in the cave wall. Not only was light coming through the slit but he could see through it into a park-like forested area. The bright green grass and large shade trees basked in the bright light.

"How can this be?" he questioned himself. Behind him he could hear the summer storm continuing to pour rain upon Kentucky. Yet before him was a bright, sunny meadow. Drawn forward by an unseen force, Mingo haltingly put his hand into the crack. He could feel the warm sunlight on his fingers. Shaking his head in puzzlement, he took another step forward and was startled to find that the crack allowed his entire body to slip through.

Time seemed to stand still as a curious sensation pulsed through his tall athletic frame. He shook his head to clear his mind and blinked in the bright sunlight. The warm summer air enclosed his chilled body soothingly. With a slight smile he slowly turned to look around. Nothing was visible except the many large shade trees and the bright green grass.

Gradually he became aware of the sounds of animals. The heavy odor of animal dung hung in the humid air. Frowning, Mingo followed his nose. He walked over a small hillock and came face to face with something he'd never seen before. Startled, he leaped backward. Then he cautiously, carefully placed one booted foot on the flat, silvery rock-like surface flowing like a river through the grass. It supported him perfectly. As he slowly walked across the surface he heard a loud, childish voice.

"Mama, look at him! I never saw a man like him before."

"Hush Devin, it's not nice to talk about people. And don't point!"

"But Mama…."

A deeper voice entered the conversation. Mingo's fine hearing caught most of the words.

"Ashley, he is dressed strangely. He's even got feathers sticking up from the back of his head. I don't blame Devin for pointing. He looks familiar, though. I wish I could remember…."

"He looks like one of the Village People. That's what he reminds you of."

"Of course! That's it. I remember reading in the Star that the Village People were planning a tour. I wish I could remember if they were going to be here in Kansas City."

"They must be! He's one of them. There must be some kind of promotion here at the zoo. We're lucky we planned to come today!" The woman with the unusual name seemed to be excited. There was a hurried whispered conversation which Mingo couldn't hear. He continued to walk along the silvery path, wondering whose village those touring people came from. He hoped they weren't Shawnee. As he pondered the question he heard rapid footsteps behind him. Politely he stepped to the side to allow them to pass.

Suddenly the pounding footsteps stopped. Mingo could hear the breathless giggle behind him. He turned with his most courtly smile and came face to face with a dark-haired woman and a blonde man. Clutched at her side the woman held a child about Israel's age. This boy was staring up at him with an open-mouthed gaze. Mingo watched, fascinated, as a fly buzzed into the child's open mouth, then out again.

"Good morning," Mingo said in his usual friendly manner.

The woman giggled again. She nudged the man at her side. "Give it to him, Travis," she said softly.

Travis stepped forward and dug a gum wrapper from his khaki pocket. He held the wrapper out to Mingo. Puzzled but a gentleman always, Mingo took the scrap of paper.

"Thank you," he murmured politely. Though totally perplexed at the unusual gift, Mingo decided that the offering from this Village People emissary was a definite sign of friendship. Though taken off guard, he quickly recovered and stripped the bracelet from his left wrist. He held the beautiful piece out to the blonde man. The woman beside him beamed with joy and snatched the bracelet from her husband's hand.

Mingo turned and continued across the hard surface toward the gate he could see in the distance. As he walked he put the gum wrapper into his shot pouch.

"Hey!" The man's voice behind him sounded aggravated, disappointed. Mingo stopped walking and looked over his shoulder at the man called Travis. It was then that he noticed the highly unusual clothing worn by the Village People before him.

A flush began to creep over the tall Cherokee's face as he beheld the vast amount of pale skin exposed on the woman called Ashley. She wore a sleeveless vest rather like his own. But her vest was very short, exposing most of her stomach and lower back. The deep neckline exposed a great deal of cleavage. As she swatted at the fly buzzing around her head Mingo noticed that the hair under her arm was totally gone.

Her legs were bare of any covering until midway up her smooth round thighs. A quick glance showed him that her legs were also devoid of hair. She was nearly barefoot. A thin sole was held in place by one thong between her toes. It was her only protection from the hard grey surface beneath his feet. Her toenails and fingernails were stained with a vivid, bright pink.

Travis was clad much the same. From both ears extended a thin black cord that seemed to be connected to something hidden in a pocket over his heart. Mingo suddenly became aware of what sounded like music emanating from the tiny black box inside the man's pocket. Though nothing at all like any music he knew, he decided that music it must be. The man was nodding his head to the pulsing beat. Perhaps these Village People were some kind of Shawnee after all.

Seconds passed as Mingo stared at the strange contraption in the man's pocket. Before him Travis shifted from one foot to the other. "I gave you the paper to sign," Travis complained. "I wasn't throwing it away. You're not one of those crazy tree-huggers are you?"

Mingo's sharp mind processed the words, but they did not fit with any concept he knew. Which group of people hugged trees? Perhaps the Village People were an offshoot of the ancient Druids of Britain. After all, they were speaking English. That explanation much better fit the circumstances than his first suspicion that they were Shawnee.

"C'mon, sign the paper will ya? Devin wants to go see the elephants and it's hot standing here in the sun." Travis' whiny voice brought Mingo out of his reverie. His dark eyebrows rose in puzzlement.

"Sign the paper that you gave me? With what? I don't carry a pen with me. Do you?"

Travis turned to Ashley and gestured at the pouch she wore around her waist. "You've got something to write with don't you?" Then he murmured to his distracted wife. "You'd think a celebrity would carry a pen, wouldn't you?"

Ashley opened the pouch with a strange metal tab which tracked along a metal strip through the leather. Mingo watched with fascination. He instantly saw that this way of closing leather pouches was superior to his own. Quickly he tried to imprint the design into his brain in case he could not acquire one.

A writing instrument was thrust toward him. He took it and stared at the blunt point. Then, cooperatively, he pressed the end of the instrument to the gum wrapper he'd retrieved from his pouch. No marks appeared on the paper.

With a grunt of impatience, Travis leaned over and grabbed the pen from Mingo's hand. "You know, you're carrying this Indian bit too far fella. Even they know how to use a pen!"

Mingo watched as Travis pressed a button on the end of the pen and a slim metal piece protruded from the blunt end. Handing the pen back to Mingo, Travis waved his hand at the gum wrapper. "Now sign it, will ya? Jeez!"

Feeling rather chagrined, Mingo complied. He handed the pen back to Ashley and the paper to Travis. Then he turned and walked rapidly toward the shady gate only yards away. Behind him he heard Travis' complaint drift on the steamy air.

"Cripes, Ashley, he signed it 'Mingo'. Who the hell is Mingo?"

"Maybe he's only somebody the company hired to promote the tour. I guess they don't want the real guys out in public. Probably too dangerous for them. He can't sign it Felipe Rose or some lawyer'd get him. You know how sharky they are."

Thirty yards away Mingo pondered the exchange between the couple behind him. He was stopped before strange iron gates that seemed to rotate on a vertical axle. Above the gates was a large sign: Swope Park Zoo.

Closely he watched as two elderly people and three children pushed their way through the device. When it was his turn Mingo forcefully pushed against the bars and their rotation allowed him to pass. Intrigued, he spent several minutes manipulating the machine. Travis, Ashley and Devin passed through, all three giving him disgusted looks. Pointedly Travis flung the gum wrapper at Mingo's booted feet. It fluttered in the gentle breeze.

He stooped and picked it up, again putting it in his shot pouch. Travis glanced behind himself and saw Mingo's action. He shook his head disgustedly and muttered, "I knew it! A tree-hugger!"

Mingo followed the family toward a half-dozen little huts perched side by side before him. From a dozen feet away he could see people in the little huts, totally enclosed by large panes of glass. When he got close he noticed that the glass was of a particularly high quality. There were no variations of thickness, no cloudy flaws. He carefully touched one of the panels. It was smoother than any glass he'd ever seen.

"Hey! Don't smear the glass." An angry voice from inside the booth caused Mingo to drop his hand with a guilty expression on his face. He stepped to the little hole in the glass and faced an elderly man. The man wore the largest pair of eyeglasses that Mingo had ever seen. He stared at the bright red frames.

"Give me your five bucks and go on, fella. There's a line startin' to form behind you."

The man held out his hand near the slit at the bottom of the glass. Mingo hastily reached behind his belt and pulled out a shilling. With a slight smile of friendliness he handed it to the man behind the glass.

"What's this? Are you tryin' to pawn off some bit of Canadian coin young man? It won't work! Slap me with a Lincoln or move aside."

Behind Mingo a harried looking woman with two children looked at the shilling in Mingo's hand. She quickly stepped forward with a twenty-dollar bill in her hands. "Here, this is for me, the two kids and him."

She pushed Mingo forward away from the booth. Standing in the deep shade of the Osage orange, she faced Mingo and reached for the coin. "That's an English shilling, isn't it?" she questioned. "My ex-husband, the prick, had some old coins in the basement. Can I see this?"

Mingo wordlessly placed the shilling in her outstretched hand. She released a low whistle. "Wow, 1767. You were going to use this to get into the zoo?" She looked at Mingo carefully and saw for the first time his unusual dress and accoutrements. A suspicious look drew down over her features. She backed away from Mingo, pushing her two children behind her. Almost running, she quickly pushed her children into the park and turned toward the African exhibit.

Mingo sighed. Since stepping through the slit in the cave wall he'd lost his bracelet and a shilling. He had gained a slip of metallic paper. This strange society seemed to be taking more than they were giving. If he wasn't careful he'd soon be missing more than he cared to part with. Firmly grasping his rifle, settling his shot pouch securely on his shoulder, Mingo gracefully walked toward the bears.