Ken-tah-teh, A Promise
Chapter 5
The Great Spirit seemed to be looking out for the two blood brothers. Daniel and Mingo set their traps along the Kentucky River close enough that they could sleep in the cave if they chose to. And in the January cold, they chose to.
The trapping was good and the pelts were prime and plentiful. Three weeks into their planned, four-week January outing the two men stood on the banks of the frozen river.
"Another month or so, Mingo, and the river should start to melt," Daniel said. "Maybe sooner with an early spring thaw."
Both of the tall men had their arms wrapped around them, hands inside their coats to keep them warm.
"If we keep taking in furs like we have been, Daniel, we'll need more than one canoe to bring our final cache home."
Sundown had snuck up on the two outdoorsmen as they stood side by side. There was an eerie silence among the trees surrounding them. The sky was a frigid purple and orange. Almost mesmerized by the glare of the rising moon on the frozen Kentucky, they both shivered.
"Gonna be a cold one tonight," Daniel slapped his friend on the back. "I'm glad I decided we should sleep in the cave tonight." He turned in the direction of their little sanctuary from the winter temperatures.
"You?" Mingo shouted, doing his best to keep in step with the big man. "I distinctly recall it being my suggestion we stay here for the night."
A warm and bright campfire was burning inside, as the last slither of sunlight shone on the horizon. Two ring-necked pheasants were roasting over the flames while the men had gone outside for one last look around. Daniel laughed. He had gotten his friend's goat again.
"Come on, Mingo, those birds ought to be just about ready."
It turned out to be a very cold night. Clear skies and a full moon had that tendency. With plenty of firewood and the fur covering they rigged to go over the cave entrance, the two trappers escaped the frigid temperatures.
Both men were quite comfortable. The cave was wide enough they could stretch out, one on each side of the fire. Daniel smacked his lips and rubbed his hands together over the warmth.
"I don't know how you do it, Mingo?"
"Do what, Daniel?" The Indian remarked as he sprinkled a little salt over the simmering meat and checked the biscuits baking on the hot stone by the fire.
"You always seem to find the plumpest birds-almost like they walk right up and ask you to cook 'em for supper."
Mingo grinned, "Well I can't be certain, Daniel, but I think it may have something to do with my feathers."
Daniel's face broke into his lop-sided grin.
"I think you're right, Mingo."
The two of them ate their fill of bird and biscuit, while outside the moonlight turned the snow-covered ground into a carpet of sparkling jewels.
"Yes sir, Mingo, you cook a mighty fine re-past." Daniel stood up and stretched.
"I'll go rinse the dishes and get us enough snow for a pot of coffee if you take care of the rest of the meat."
The Cherokee crossed his arms over his chest, and nodded toward the two carcasses stripped clean. "The rest of what meat, Daniel?"
"You mean to say we ate both those birds in one sittin' ?"
Mingo picked up one of the naked carcasses, "It would seem so, but then we had no midday meal to speak of either."
Daniel turned to go outside, "We did cover quite a few miles today, didn't we?"
"That we did," Mingo agreed. He slowly got to his feet, groaning and holding onto his back as he did so.
"What's the matter?" Daniel's eyebrows hid a forthcoming smirk as he waited for an explanation.
The Cherokee leaned over backwards trying to stretch out the tired muscles.
"Ever since Ken-tah-teh found that he can stand and walk as long as someone holds on to his hands that is all he wants to do back and forth, back and forth."
Daniel snickered and came over to his friend, "Kinda gits ya right here don't it?" He poked Mingo in the small of his back.
Mingo nodded in agreement, "I've walked more miles hunched over holding on to his hands than I ever walked with you, Daniel, on our many trails through the wilderness."
"Ain't easy bein' as tall as a timber, is it old man? " Daniel queried. "You rest easy then and I'll go fetch us some water for the coffee."
Daniel's laughter echoed through the cave as the Cherokee rolled his eyes. The well-worn coffee pot almost readied itself. It had provided the two wilderness men with many a cup of the steaming beverage. Mingo leaned back against the hard wall of the cave and thought of only two things -Songbird and Ken-tah-teh.
It had been one month since he and Daniel had left on that cold morning. He missed his family. How one beautiful woman now made his life complete. And how one little bundle of energy could give a man such joy. He wondered if he had ever given his own father that same amount of joy.
Those early days of his childhood in Kentucky, with Talota, his Cherokee mother and father were hard to recall. The unhappy days of his life in London seemed to overshadow them. At times, there would be a spark of a memory-a good memory when he held Ken-tah-teh in his arms. He wondered if his father, Lord Dunsmore, now Governor General of Virgina and loyal British subject would ever see his grandson-or if he would even care to.
"Here we go! Got that pot ready?" Daniel's bellowing voice brought Mingo back to the matters at hand. "I found a break in the ice and got us some fresh water instead of snow."
"Ready and waiting," Mingo answered and handed him the pot. Daniel filled it up and put it by the fire. Both men leaned back and rested while the coffee brewed. Shadows danced on the walls of the cave from the flickering flames. They began to lull both of the tired men to sleep.
"Hmmmm," Daniel sighed. "You wouldn't happen to have any of those sugar cookies left, would you, Mingo?"
"Sorry, Daniel, but those were gone yesterday." The Cherokee man poured a cup coffee and passed it to his friend. "Here you go."
The big man blew on the steaming drink and took a sip. "Mmmm, mighty good coffee, Mingo. What is your secret?"
Mingo took his first sip while the dimples on his face appeared. "My secret, Daniel, is not to let you make the coffee."
Daniel peered out over the rim of his cup, "Oh now that hurts, Mingo," he leaned back and grinned. "Yep, mighty good coffee."
Mingo reached into his pack, and brought out four big, red apples. "Will these do for some dessert?" He waited for Daniel to set down his cup and tossed him one and then another.
"Now where in the world did you get these beauties?" the big man asked as he took huge bite out of the first one.
Mingo finished chewing his first bite of the sweet fruit and swallowed.
"Songbird hid an entire bushel of these from me in our root cellar so they would last through the winter."
Daniel was halfway through his second apple, "That's a smart woman you married there, Mingo. You better hold on to her."
The Cherokee man nodded, "I plan to, Daniel. I plan to." He finished his first apple and took another sip of coffee, gazing into the fire.
"Miss 'em, don't you?"
"Eh?" Mingo looked up.
"Tah-teh and Songbird, you miss 'em."
Mingo tossed Daniel his second apple. "I miss them terribly," he answered as he threw his apple core into the fire. "Funny isn't it, Daniel how a man's life can change in a year or two? If you would have told me a year ago that I would be married and have a son I would have told you, you were daft."
He poured himself another cup of coffee and offered Daniel the rest.
"No thanks," the big man said.
Mingo continued,
"I always thought the road for me would be a solitary one and now I cannot imagine my life without them." He shook his head and laughed. "Each time I return home from checking our trap lines he is bigger, and talking more." Seriously, he looked at Daniel. "Don't you miss Israel and Jemima when you are gone?"
Daniel threw some more wood on the fire, "'Course I do, but they're bigger. There isn't anything more special than their first year or two. I know what you're goin'through, Mingo."
They set their cups by the empty coffee pot and settled in for the night. Mingo pulled his blanket all the way up to his chin while Daniel pulled his up to his shoulders and covered his eyes with his coonskin cap.
"Goodnight, Daniel."
There was no answer.
"Daniel?"
The big man sat up so fast his cap almost fell into the fire. He caught it just in time.
"You know, Mingo, I been thinkin' " and then he said nothing.
"Yes, Daniel, you been thinkin' " Mingo said, imitating his friend's speech pattern.
"We got two, maybe three more months of trappin' and," Daniel stopped again.
"And?" Mingo queried.
Daniel continued, "And it's gettin' harder and harder for you to leave Songbird and Ken-tah-teh."
Mingo had to laugh at Daniel finally saying his son's whole name. "Daniel, what are you trying to say? I would like to get at least one hour of sleep before the sun comes up and it's time to go."
The big man rubbed his hands over the fire nervously, "I think you need to stay home and…"
Mingo sat up, "Now Daniel, you know very well that February and March are the best months of the trapping season and I will not allow you to do all the work alone."
Daniel put his hands together, "Now Mingo, just hear me out. Doesn't Jericho still owe you some money from your last trip to Salem?"
The Cherokee sat back, "Well maybe a few pounds."
Daniel's eyes smiled, "I happen to know it's more than a few pounds and I bet he'd be tickled to work your part of the trap line to pay off his debt to you."
Mingo was a man who prided himself on his work ethic and paying his own way.
"I don't know, Daniel. I wouldn't feel comfortable asking Jericho to do that."
Daniel lay back down and put his cap over his eyes, his way of saying he was ready to turn in.
"Well that's fine, Mingo, cuz I already asked Jericho and he already said yes."
"But…" Mingo started to resist.
Daniel raised up, his eyes still covered by his cap. He pointed to the Cherokee that he could not see.
"No buts. You better get some sleep cuz we're headin' home tomorrow."
"Tomorrow? But Daniel I thought we still had another week to go."
The big man moved enough of his cap so that one eye was showing.
"Mingo, we for certain ain't gonna be out in this wilderness come the 2nd of February."
Now the Cherokee was really confused. "The 2nd of February?"
Daniel tipped his cap back so both eyes were uncovered.
"Mingo, I'm surprised at you. Don't you remember what you were doin' just about one year ago come a week?"
Mingo leaned back, pondering the date, and then a father's smile appeared on his face.
"I knew it was early February, but not paying attention to your white man's calendar I hadn't kept track of the particular date."
Daniel smiled, "Well my wife and young'uns have been keepin' track and Eeeowww too. They're plannin' a shindig for that little boy of yours. One year old is a mighty big steppin' stone in a man's life. Now get some sleep before the sun comes up and it's time to go." With one toss of his head, the coonskin cap covered both his eyes again.
"It suits you, Mingo." a voice came from under the coonskin cap.
"What's that, Daniel?"
"Fatherhood. It suits you," Daniel answered.
Mingo leaned back, closed his eyes and remembered the first time he laid eyes on his son laying quietly in Songbird's arms.
"I wish it was sunup already," he thought.
Chapter 6
Daniel and Mingo, each packed out as many furs as they could. Carrying "money" on their backs made the trip home faster and easier. They left their cache of furs at the tavern where Cincinnatus credited their tabs for future purchases.
"See you boys day after tomorrow?" their bearded friend yelled as the two tired trappers left his establishment.
Daniel waved, "See you then, Cincinnatus," and looked at Mingo whose face asked the question "Why?" They walked to the gate of the fort.
"Mingo, I told you my family wants to celebrate Tah-teh's first birthday and that's day after tomorrow." Both men waved to Tupper who was standing lookout.
"But Daniel, the tavern?"
"Well Mingo, Cincinnatus wants to celebrate too. You know how he feels 'bout Songbird and Tah-teh, and you too, but he's got some men staying at the tavern."
Light snowflakes began to cover Daniel's coonskin cap, Mingo's feathers and the trail beneath their feet.
"Men?" Mingo asked.
"A special detail of surveyors contracted by the Continental Army. They're laying down groundwork for a new fort to be built between here and Salem. Gonna build a new road through the hills and across the Kentucky. Yancy's been scoutin' for em until the weather breaks and they can start clearin' the land."
The two friends soon reached the place in the road where they would split up and head home to their families. Both stopped, and leaned on their rifles.
"You don't want to hurt "Eeeeowww's feelin's now do ya?"
"Certainly not," Mingo smiled. "What time should we be there?"
The big man in buckskins pondered, "How 'bout a little after midday?'
Mingo nodded, "What can we bring to this 'get-together'?"
Daniel was already half way home, "Just bring the guest of honor and his Mama-and you!"
The Cherokee man laughed at his friend and waved. He hurried down the road himself, to his lodge and his family.
A winter's sunset always seemed darker and shorter, Daniel thought as he approached his cabin. Smoke from the chimney and a light in the window meant his family was still up. Mingo's question stuck in his mind,
"Don't you miss Jemima and Israel and Rebecca, when you are gone?"
Of course, he missed his family while he was away from them. It just took a new Papa's way of thinkin' to remind the big man of how much. A grin came on his face as Daniel thought about his own little boy, Israel. How he would jump into his arms when he came through the door. And Jemima's pretty smile was a greeting all its own. His Becky's kiss hello and the look of love in her eyes. This was the real warmth that gets a man through the winter, he thought to himself.
Knowing what was to follow, Daniel leaned Ticklicker safely on the wood box on the front porch. His voice bellowed as he stepped up to the entrance of his cabin,
"Anybody home in the Boone household?"
"Pa!" a high-pitched voice was the first to answer. Daniel opened the door to an armful of Israel. His light-haired son was the man of the family while he was gone. But he was his father's little boy when he came home.
Is'rl, I declare you've grown a foot!" The big man squeezed him tight, then set him down, patting his behind as he did so.
Next came Jemima, "Missed you, Pa," she said, putting her arm around his waist hugging him tight. Daniel kissed her forehead and hugged her back.
" 'Mima, you're as pretty as your Ma," he whispered.
She blushed, "Oh, Pa." Jemima backed away allowing her mother to say her hello.
The red-haired Irish lass fell into her husband's arms. "It's so good to have you home, Dan."
Daniel wrapped his big arms around her, holding her close. Then he kissed her, smiled and kissed her again. He wouldn't let her go.
"What is it, Dan? What's wrong?" Becky asked him.
He put out his hand to Jemima and Israel so they would join in the hug.
"Nothin' is wrong, Becky. I just missed my family that's all."
Daniel imagined the same warm reception was happening in a Cherokee-Choctaw lodge down by Birch Tree River.
The sun looked cold, as it dipped beneath the horizon. Swift moccasins crossed the trail between the tavern and his lodge. Mingo remembered the days when he would have stayed for a pint or two before heading home. Those days were now gone and happily so. Home carried a new meaning for the Cherokee man. His simple lodge now held much more than his few material goods. It held his wife and son.
Even Daniel reneged on the second ale Cincinnatus offered the two of them. Mingo hoped he hadn't hurt his friend's feelings when he asked him if he didn't miss his children. There wasn't a more devoted family man than Daniel Boone. Mingo knew even with the cold winter air of approaching nightfall, the Boone cabin would be filled with the glow of hugs, kisses, and togetherness.
The Cherokee couldn't make his feet move fast enough. He reached the clearing that was home to his lodge as the last sliver of light left the sky. The branches of the surrounding trees were empty, but his heart was full. With cupped hands, he made the gobble of a wild turkey. Songbird, he knew would hear it and know it was him. The young father wondered if his baby boy would know too or if he was already fast asleep.
"Is anyone home?" Mingo's mellow voice inquired. As he opened the door and laid down his unloaded rifle and gear, his gaze fell upon the joy that now filled his life. Across the room Songbird sat by the fire, with Ken-tah-teh in her lap. Their smiles lit up the lodge as Songbird winked at her husband. She stood the baby up on his feet.
"Go see Papa, Ken-tah-teh," she told him. Mingo started toward them, but she shook her head no. The Cherokee man bent down on one knee. It was a good ten feet between them. With wobbly, but sure steps, the baby proudly and carefully walked to the outstretched arms of his father.
"Look at my big boy, would you?" Mingo scooped him up and squeezed him tight. "Walking like a man all around our lodge." Ken-tah-teh's face was aglow with victory. "Can Papa have a hug?" The baby threw his arms around Mingo's neck. "And a kiss?" He answered with a kiss for his father. "I missed you, Ken-tah-teh," the proud Cherokee man said, then pointed to the other love in his life. "Who is that?" he asked the baby.
Ken-tah-teh smiled, "Mama."
Mingo nodded, "Shall we give Mama a kiss too?"
Ken-tah-teh pointed to Songbird. "Mama."
Mingo walked over to the fire and sat down by the beautiful maiden who had changed his life forever. Holding on to the baby, he looked into her eyes. "I missed you too, Little One." Putting his arm around her, he pulled her in close and gently kissed her.
"We missed you too," Songbird laid her head on his chest. "It is good to have you home."
Mingo leaned back and relaxed. In his arms the two most precious things in his life.
"It is good to be home."
Ken-tah-teh wriggled out of his father's arms and got to the floor. Mingo watched as he toddled all around the lodge.
"He grows more every time I return home," Mingo tightened his hold on Songbird. "Look at him go," he laughed.
The little warrior proceeded to bring to his mother and father every object he could find and carry without falling. One of Songbird's moccasins, Mingo's mittens, one of his mother's wooden spoons, his own playball. Each time making certain his parents named the item as he placed it at their feet. Songbird nudged her husband, "Our son likes to help me keep our lodge clean."
Mingo shook his head as he watched him. "I was afraid he would be asleep when I got here."
Songbird smiled, "I think he knew you would be home today. Don't ask me how, but I could not get him to go to sleep tonight."
The baby continued to bring what he could to show them. Finally, Mingo looked at Songbird, "How long will he keep doing this?"
"Until he tires himself out or runs out of things I allow to be within his reach."
The Cherokee man sighed, "He is tiring me out. I can't stand it any longer. Ken-tah-teh," Mingo said. The baby was almost to their bed, still searching. He turned to his father.
"Come here a moment," Mingo motioned for him to come.
Ken-tah-teh pointed to Songbird's other moccasin on the floor. "Uhhhh?"
Mingo shook his head no. "Come here, son."
The baby pointed again, "Uhhhh?"
Mingo put out his arms. "Come give Papa a big bear hug," he said. "We will get Mama's other shoe later."
Ken-tah-teh's face lit up and as quick as his little feet would go he scooted to his father. Mingo lifted him up and at once, he threw his arms around his Mingo's neck.
"Grrrrrr," the tiny voice growled. It was one of their games.
"Grrrrr," Mingo growled back and hugged him close.
Ken-tah-teh held on tight. "Papa." His brown eyes met with Mingo's.
He could feel his little boy nestle into his embrace.
"Papa's home," he said as he patted his tiny back. "Papa's home, son, for a long time." It was only a few minutes before the baby was sound asleep.
Mingo and Songbird sat by the fire enjoying its warmth and theirs.
"Are you hungry?" she asked and began to get up. He kept her from going.
"No, I am not hungry, only for this," he answered and held the two of them closer. He told Songbird about the deal Daniel and Jericho had contrived.
"Yes," she said. "Jericho is very happy about it. He told me when we visited the tavern while you were gone." The fire crackled as they talked. "But he and Cincinnatus were a little worried that Daniel would not be able to convince you."
With a shake of his feathers, Mingo laughed, "Oh Daniel can be very convincing and very sneaky. Although I am certain he will say he was being tactful." The Cherokee man moved to get more comfortable. Ken-tah-teh opened his eyes, lifted his head for just a moment, and then laid it on Mingo's shoulder, fast asleep.
Mingo continued, "He sprang the plan on me one night like this when the fire was warm. He knew I was missing you both."
Songbird patted his arm.
"I am glad," she said. "I am glad because it will let Jericho repay the debt he owes and it will let you stay home with us." She reached up and kissed him.
"I am glad too." he answered. "Little One?"
She nestled in as close as she could get to him.
"What?"
"Do you remember what we were doing this time one year ago?"
She gently pinched his side where she knew he was ticklish. "I remember you and Running Deer pacing for hours outside of the lean-to by the river."
He twitched at her touch. "I mean after that."
Her hand went from Mingo's side to Ken-tah-teh's back, rubbing in gentle circles like any mother would. "I remember the look on your face when you first saw your son," she smiled. "And the sound of your voice when you held him in your arms and gentled his crying with your song."
Mingo nodded as the memory put a lump in his throat.
"And I remember the pride in your voice when you told Daniel his name, Ken-tah-teh." She sat up and put her arms around them both. "Yes, my husband, my Cherokee warrior, I remember."
Gently, he caressed her cheek with his lips.
"Do you remember?" she asked him.
Mingo swallowed, "I remember never seeing anything so beautiful as you holding our baby. And how it took my breath away when you said, come and see our son." He took a deep breath and looked at Ken-tah-teh who was still sleeping. "When I held him for the first time, life took on an entirely new meaning for me." Mingo leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment. "When I said his name for the first time, my heart was pounding inside my chest. And Daniel's handshake was not just as a blood brother, but as a father."
He smiled at Songbird, "I have so many 'remembers' in this last year."
A proud father's grin appeared on his face as he spoke. "I remember the first time he called me 'Papa', no other name means so much to me now. And whenever I watch as you feed him, how he gazes into your eyes. That is a 'remember' I take with me whenever I am away from you." Mingo shivered, "The coldness each time I have to say goodbye, and the warmth when I return." Then he gently patted Ken-tah-teh's behind, "But that is enough talk from me. I think it is time for bed."
"I think so too," Songbird agreed. "Give him to me; I will get him ready for bed."
Mingo stood up slowly, his back a little stiff from sitting so long. "No, Mama, you go and warm up the bed for us. I will get him ready and we will join you." The baby was still sound asleep. Mingo laughed. It seemed waiting for his Papa to come home had gone way past his bedtime.
The big clay washbasin was filled with fresh water from the rain barrel. In spring and summer, the barrel sat outside to catch the rainwater. Now it sat just inside the door of their lodge. Mingo kept it filled with water from the river or melted snow if the river froze over. He had made sure it was filled to the brim before he left with Daniel.
The pretty Choctaw maiden washed her face and hands, then left the washcloth and towel for her men to use. On their bed, Songbird threw back the big elk skin blanket. She took off her deerskin robe and slipped under the covers. She watched as father and son got ready for bed. Already Mingo had taken off his vest and Ken-tah-teh's shirt and pants. The bare-naked baby lay on the rug, still half-asleep.
He was a big baby for his age, long and lean, with just enough baby fat to pinch a little; Songbird would tell him when she bathed him. Jet-black hair that covered his head to his ears and neck, and big, brown eyes like his father.
"You are my handsome, little warrior," she would tell him. "just like Papa." which always made him smile. She watched and listened as Mingo readied him for bed.
He washed him and gave him dry pants, then rinsing the cloth Mingo proceeded to wash the baby's face and hands and belly. Ken-tah-teh woke up and began to fuss, but the soothing sound of his father's voice was a lullaby to him. "Sh, sh, sh, Ken-tah-teh, "he said wiping away the baby's tears. "We have to be nice and clean or Mama won't let her men sleep with her." The littlest one yawned and stretched, then fell back to sleep. "Yes, son," Mingo stood over the wash basin, "Mama likes her men clean and fresh, not like some old smelly bear."
It made Songbird laugh.
Mingo took off his feathers, armlet and bracelet and threw them by his vest. She had missed him more than she realized as she took notice. Their bed would not feel empty this night. He then washed his own face and hands, arms and chest. Then rinsing the cloth in the water, he put it on his neck and let it run down his back. After drying off with the big cloth she had left them, he picked up Ken-tah-teh, and turned to Songbird.
"Mama, can we come to bed with you now?" The baby never stirred in the comfort of his father's arms. He was her Cherokee warrior, handsome, well muscled, strong, and now-home. She turned back the blanket and patted the empty side of the bed, an invitation to join her in sleep
"I think that is a yes, Ken-tah-teh," Mingo whispered to the baby who had no idea of the playful banter going on between his parents. He placed the sleeping infant in their bed of soft animal skins by Songbird who covered him up. The baby wriggled until he got comfortable and settled in to a deep sleep. Adding to the fire what he thought would be enough wood for the night, Mingo then joined them in bed. His rifle lay close by on the floor by his moccasins and trousers.
Songbird covered him up like she did the baby. Mingo wriggled under the blanket like Ken-tah-teh had done. Then he stretched out his tall form, putting his hands behind his head and gave out with a long sigh.
"Better than spending the night with Daniel in the cave?" she whispered.
He leaned up on one elbow, "Oh so much better…although, Daniel does not snore as loud as you do." Songbird reached over and lightly slapped his bare chest. Before she could take her hand back, Mingo took it in his. "I think we should spend the entire day tomorrow right here in bed."
She shook her head, "It sounds like a wonderful idea to me, but I do not think you will be able to convince him of that." Songbird's eyes fell on the baby sleeping between them. Mingo's eyes followed hers. "He is up at first light, and goes until the sun sets. If I am lucky I can get him to take one short sleep during the day."
Mingo laid back down listening to the crackle of the burning fire and the baby snores of his sleeping son. He squeezed Songbird's hand. "Did I remember to thank you?"
"Thank you?" she queried.
Mingo leaned back up on his elbow and looked at his wife. "Thank you for our son," he whispered.
Songbird smiled again. "I would thank you as well."
Mingo gently ran his fingers through the baby's hair, careful not to wake him.
"I think tomorrow, the day before we celebrate the birth of Ken-tah-teh at Eeeoowww's, that he and I are going to give you a Mama's day." Mingo thought for a moment. "It is all right with you that we will share his day of birth with our white friends there?"
Songbird looked at the baby she had given birth to one year ago and then to her husband. "Both of our Indian families know the importance of living among the white man, learning their customs, and sharing the land." She took Mingo's hand. "But that is not why Daniel and his family, and Cincinnatus and Yancy and all the rest want to celebrate his birthday as they call it." She smiled, "They do it because they love him and you."
"And you," Mingo added. He reached over and kissed the mother of his son. "Gv-ge-you-hi." He spoke in his Cherokee tongue, "I love you."
Songbird gently caressed his cheek, "Chi-hullo-li," she answered in her Choctaw tongue. "I love you. It is good to have you home again."
Sleep came to them as their eyes met in a long embrace.
Chapter 7
Around 5 AM Yancy's red rooster, Dudley, announced to Boonesborough and the world that it was the 3rd of February. "Time to get up!" his frosty crow made public. The only other person to hear him beside Yancy and his wife was Rebecca Boone. Their cabins were within shouting distance, or crowing distance in Dudley's case.
Rebecca's bed hadn't been this comfortable and full in a month. The big mountain of a man she called husband was the reason why it was cozy once more. She was a hardy woman of the wilderness. But when her man returned home to her, she became the blushing bride in love all over again. Feeling his back against hers was more warmth than any comforter in the settlement could give.
The Boone cabin was quiet and dark. Neither Jemima nor Israel had stirred. With a busy day ahead, Rebecca tried to slip out of their bed without waking her husband. He needed a good day of sleep after being out in the wilds for a month. And she needed to get started on Ken-tah-teh's maple birthday cake and her special maple syrup icing.
She tried getting out of their bed, but a big hand holding onto her nightdress would not allow it. It pulled her back under the covers.
"Daniel Boone," her high-pitched whisper squeaked as she burrowed deeper into the blankets and up against him. "You'll wake the children."
"So what?" the big man playfully whispered back and surrounded her in his embrace.
Rebecca Boone was a prisoner in her own bed. And escape never entered her mind.
Two hours later she woke with a start. Sunbeams through the window revealed to her what time it was. "Oh my word, Israel will be starving." Again she tried to get up, but a big arm lay across her middle.
"Dan, let me out of this bed," the snores from his side of the bed filled the alcove where they slept. When she slid out from under his grasp, Rebecca saw one green eye slowly open. She reached over and kissed his bare shoulder.
"You stay here, you need the rest," she whispered as she buttoned up her nightdress. The crooked, sleepy smile on his face warmed her more than he would ever know. Then came the snoring once again.
As she brushed her long red hair, she thought to herself, 'I'll get the fire going, start the coffee and the oatmeal, and then I'll get dressed.' She put her long housecoat on and opened the curtain to the alcove. To her surprise, Jemima and Israel were at the table eating their oatmeal. The fire was bright and the coffee pot was warming over the flames.
"Mornin', Ma," both children greeted her with a smile.
"Well, my word," was all she could say. Rebecca walked to the table and kissed them both on the head then went to the fire and poured herself a cup of coffee
"Good morning, to you."
Israel already had the mixing bowl for the cake and the jug of maple syrup on the table.
"Can we start now, Ma? Can we?" he begged.
"Israel!" Jemima said. "At least let Ma have her coffee."
The little boy's eyes snapped at his sister until Rebecca sat down by her white-haired son. With her behind she scooted him over until he started to giggle.
"Sh, sh, sh. Your Pa is still sleeping,"
The pioneer mother sipped slowly on her first cup of coffee.
"Mima, where did you learn to make such good coffee?"
The smile of a young lady who hoped to have a family of her own one day shone on Jemima's face.
"Oh, Ma, you know you taught me."
"I did?"
Rebecca teased, with just a hint of an Irish brogue in her voice. She nudged Israel again to include him in the fun. But the little boy was deep in thought. He had been toying with the same spoonful of oatmeal for the last five minutes.
Rebecca had an inkling of what was bothering her son. With all the talk of Ken-tah-teh's birthday and Dan being gone for so long, Israel Boone was feeling a bit left out. Being the recipient of his father's and Mingo's attention for so long and having a new, little rival to contend with was not setting well with him.
She knew Israel loved Mingo and Songbird's baby boy as much as the rest of them did. So the feelings he was having were most certainly confusing to him. Rebecca took the spoon out of his hand, lifted him up on her lap, and hugged him tight.
"What's the matter, Israel?" she asked softly.
"Nuthin', " he murmured, staring at the floor.
She winked at Jemima, and kissed his forehead.
"Hmm, you don't seem to have a fever,"
"Oh, ma," he moaned.
"You're excited about Ken-tah-teh's birthday aren't you? He is going to love that little pony you made for him out of corn stalks and husks.
He nodded hesitantly.
"Well what is it then?"
"Nuthin', I said."
Gently she took his chin in hand and looked him in the eye.
"I bet I know what's bothering you," she said.
Israel waited for her answer.
"I bet you think now that Ken-tah-teh is here, Mingo isn't going to take you hunting, and fishing any more."
Her little white-haired boy's eyes blinked in total disbelief.
"That's it, isn't it, Israel?"
Two large tears rolled down his cheeks as he nodded yes.
"I'm sorry, Ma," he swallowed. "I don't want to feel like that. You know I love Ken-tah-teh." His head dropped in embarrassment.
She hugged him tighter, and dried his tears with her apron strings.
"I know you do, Israel. And it's normal for you to feel that way."
"It is?"
"Why certainly it is," she wondered how long he had been struggling with these feelings.
"Contrary to what you might think, Israel, you are still a little boy."
She covered his mouth before he could object.
"And you've been the only little boy that Mingo had to share his Cherokee ways with. Now Mingo has a family and a little boy of his own."
Israel leaned back into his mother's arms.
"Do you think Mingo will still take me fishing and hunting and teach me how to shoot a bow and arrow?"
His little boy voice quivered as he fought back tears. There was a tone of real concern in his question. She remembered how Israel had taken to Mingo the very first time Daniel brought him home to meet them. The youngest Boone didn't see Cherokee, he didn't see Englishman, he just saw Mingo.
"Why, Israel, of course Mingo will still do all those things with you. Just because he has Ken-tah-teh doesn't mean he loves you any less. It just means he loves Ken-tah-teh a little more because he is his own blood. It's a different love, a father and son love."
His eyes were still full of worry.
"Like you and Pa," Jemima assured him, as only a big sister could. That brought a big smile to his little boy face. Rebecca nodded a thank you to her.
"Feel better?" Rebecca asked, as she gently ran her fingers through his hair.
His answer yes, turned into a very big yawn. He was still in his nightshirt.
"You know what I think, young man? I think you need to go back to bed and take a little nap. Your father kept you up way too late last night telling you trapping stories."
Pointing to the loft where he slept, "Go on now, Israel."
He jumped down off her lap and turned slowly toward his bed room.
"Aww criminently, Ma, only babies take naps." He said as he slunk toward the ladder to the loft.
Rebecca shared a smile with Jemima, and then looked at the alcove where her husband was still sleeping. Something clicked inside, maybe by working some of her motherly magic and diplomacy, she could make this situation advantageous to all parties concerned.
Israel, who did not want to be told to go to bed, even though a nap would make him much more agreeable when he woke, and for she and Mima who had a lot of work to do, work that would go much easier without the Boone menfolk underfoot.
"Wait just a minute, Israel. You know what would be an even better idea?"
The boy already had one foot on the ladder.
"What?" he asked.
Rebecca stood with her arms crossed.
"I think it would be better if you would go into our bed and make sure your Pa gets the rest he needs."
Israel turned back toward the two women, his face lit up like a new candle. Rebecca knew that this was a whole different kettle of stew. There was nothing Israel liked better than to jump into the oversized feather bed with his Ma and Pa.
Rebecca continued, shaking her finger mockingly at him, "If he tries to get up, you just wrestle him back down."
But she knew better. As soon as her little boy got in their bed, warm and safe, next to his Pa, he would be asleep in seconds.
"Do you think you can do that, Israel?"
Her words were wasted on an empty space where her son had been standing. The curtain around the alcove was rustling in a breeze named Israel. By the time she reached the curtain and peeked in, all she could see were the white locks on the top of his head. He was nestled deep under the covers and as close to his Pa as he could get.
"Sweet dreams, my baby boy," she said and kissed what she could see of him. As she turned and closed the curtain behind her, two sets of snores filled the bed room.
Jemima had already cleared the dishes off their big family-sized table and started to get what they would need to make the birthday cake. Rebecca planned to make a big cake for both Ken-tah-teh and Cincinnatus to celebrate their birthday. A maple cake with nuts and lots of maple syrup. She also planned on making a small cake just for the very special one year old, without nuts.
"One should have their very own cake for their first birthday, don't you think, Mima?"
The pretty redhead enjoyed having a baby to fuss over again, and him being Mingo's baby made it even more special. Rebecca smiled as she watched her daughter.
"Now then, Mima, we can get our work done without the men underfoot. Sticking their fingers in the maple syrup, eating all the nuts we cracked for the cake. But first…" she walked over to the fire. "I'm going to have another cup of your fine coffee."
The two women laughed as they sat together at the table, mother and daughter, planning their day ahead, and the special day tomorrow.
The same morning light which shone through the Boone's cabin was lighting the little lodge on Birch Tree River.
"Sh, sh, Ken-tah-teh," voice whispered. "Yes, Mama is sleeping. Let's make her a cup of tea."
Mingo had done what he had promised by letting her sleep. A warming fire, a dry Ken-tah-teh, and the aroma of sassafras that filled the lodge made for a nice surprise.
"Good morning," she said, stretching as she enjoyed the comfort of their big bed. She saw her baby's head quickly turn toward her. Mingo sat by the fire watching the tea they were brewing for her. Ken-tah-teh was standing, hand on his father's knee as he pointed to her.
"Mama," he said.
"Yes, I see Mama is awake," Mingo answered as he got ready to pour the hot tea for her. Songbird's moccasins were still on the floor where the baby had left them the night before. Mingo picked one of them up.
"Here, Ken-tah-teh, take Mama her shoe and give her a kiss."
Wearing a big smile, the baby toddled over to his mother, who had put on her robe and waited for him on the side of the bed.
"Mama," he said, proudly giving her the shoe he carried.
"Thank you, baby," she said and picked him up. "Can Mama have a good morning kiss?" Ken-tah-teh obliged as Mingo joined them with the steaming cup of tea.
"Hot, hot," Mingo held the cup away from the little pair of hands. He placed it on the floor by Songbird's feet and took Ken-tah-teh from her. "Let's see if Mama likes the tea we made for her," Mingo whispered in the baby's ear as he sat him on his lap.
The little mother took a sip, "Mmmmm, tastes good. Thank you, Ken-tah-teh," she told him. The baby's face lit up. "And thank you too, Papa," she repeated.
Ken-tah-teh looked up at his father and with no warning grabbed his nose.
"Nose," he stated innocently.
The little lodge by Birch Tree River filled with the laughter of a mother and father who, tomorrow would celebrate the anniversary of a very special birth.
Still holding his son, Mingo spoke up,
"I think, Ken-tah-teh, that from now on we will declare the day before your day of birth as Mama's Day. What do you think?"
Songbird smiled as Mingo nodded his head up and down, hoping the baby would do the same-which he did. Then he put out his arms for her to take him.
"Mama's Day?" She asked, as she took the baby in her arms. "Well first I think our little warrior is hungry." She opened the front of her robe and let him begin to nurse. Mingo leaned over and kissed her then stood up.
"Yes, Mama's Day. And I know just what we shall do for Mama today."
The Cherokee man added some wood to the fire, went outside and came back with the big kettle Songbird had traded for. Filling it with water, he put it over the flames.
"What is Papa doing, Ken-tah-teh?" Songbird asked her little one, who continued to nurse. She ran her fingers through his black hair. "You are Mama's handsome river boy," she sang to him. The baby took hold of her hand and held on tight.
Mingo went back outside and returned with the big wash tub Cincinnatus had given them.
"Ever' family needs a washtub," Cincinnatus would say, "whether you're Injun or white man. Fer washin' clothes, and dishes, and fer takin' a bath if you've a mind to."
Mingo placed the tub near the fire and emptied into it the now hot water from the kettle. Then he filled the kettle again and put it back on the fire.
Now Songbird could see what her husband was planning. He was fixing her a hot bath, something that was a rare and enjoyable occurrence in the wilderness. By the time Ken-tah-teh had been burped two times and his tummy filled, Mingo had the wash tub turned into a bath tub two thirds full of warm water.
He would let the last kettle come to a full boil until Songbird was ready for her bath. Then adding it to the tub, the water would be nice and warm for her. But when Ken-tah-teh saw the tub, there was no holding on to him. Songbird put him down and he scampered to his father, who stood between him and the fire.
Holding on to Mingo's trousers, he pulled himself up and peered into the tub full of water. He started to put his hand in, then looked up at Mingo.
"Hot?"
Mingo smiled proudly, "No, son, it's all right. It is not hot yet." Giving the baby an open invitation for some fun, Ken-tah-teh reached in with both hands and started splashing. Mingo picked him up.
"That is for Mama's bath first, Ken-tah-teh, not yours."
The baby shook his head, "No, Tah-teh," whining and wiggling in his father's arms. He leaned down toward the big tub of water. Ken-tah-teh loved a bath. He loved the water and was not afraid of being in the water. Both Mingo and Songbird made certain of that.
At an early age both of them would take him in the river when they were swimming. Slowly at first, they let him dangle his feet and splash. Then Mingo would sit him on his stomach while floating on his back. He would let the water come up around the baby's legs and tummy, holding tight to him. It wasn't long before the baby begged to be in the water with them.
As soon as the river warmed up this spring, Mingo planned to teach his son how to swim. But for right now that big tub of warm water looked very inviting to the little boy.
"Mama will take her bath first, then you," Mingo whispered to Ken-tah-teh. "She wants to look pretty for your party tomorrow." But the baby was not convinced.
"No," he answered abruptly, then pleaded. "Tah-teh down." Songbird joined her husband, who was in trouble with their son.
"Did I remember to tell you that he has learned a new word?" she asked him.
"No?" Mingo replied.
"Yes," she smiled. "No."
A disgruntled Ken-tah-teh kept on. "No, Papa."
Finally Mingo sat down with the baby on his knee. Firmly he spoke to his son.
"Listen to Papa. We are going to let Mama have her bath first."
The baby was still looking at the tub. Mingo continued, "While Mama enjoys her bath, would you like to go outside with Papa?"
Outside was the magic word. If there was anything that Mingo and Songbird's little boy liked better than the water, it was being outside. He pointed to the door of their lodge.
"Tah-teh go?" he begged his father.
Mingo stood up, hugging his baby while patting him on the behind.
"Yes, Tah-teh go," he assured him, smiling at Songbird, who had the baby's clothes in her hand.
"Come, Ken-tah-teh, Mama will get you dressed while Papa gets his coat."
Mingo handed her the little bundle of energy.
"Tah-teh go?" he repeated while she put on his long pants, fur boots, and a shirt. All the while the baby kept an eye on Mingo, making certain his father did not go out without him.
"Wait until they see your new coat, Ken-tah-teh," Songbird told him. Tekawitha, Mingo's cousin and adopted daughter of Chief Menewa had fashioned the baby a new bearskin coat, complete with hood and mittens. Inside it was lined with soft buckskin and when they put it on him he looked like a little bear cub.
Mingo laced his own coat and tied on his weapon belt. Taking only his knife and tomahawk with him, Songbird knew he was not planning to go too far from their lodge. He then went to the fire, took the last kettle of boiling water and poured it into the wash tub. Now Songbird would have a warm bath to enjoy while her men went outside to play.
"Grrrrr," Mingo growled. "Where is my little bear cub?"
Ken-tah-teh begged, "Up, me," his arms in the air as far as they would go all bundled up for the cold. "Tah-teh up," he asked again.
Mingo pretended to groan as he picked up his baby boy. "You are a growing bear cub, aren't you?"
Songbird watched as father and son went to the door. They turned back to her.
"All right, Mama, you enjoy your bath and we men will go hunting." Mingo winked at her. "Wave bye to Mama." The little furry bundle waved to Songbird, and out the door they went, leaving her to that wonderful tub of hot water. She watched for a moment from the door.
Mingo carried Ken-tah-teh to the garden where she would plant corn, squash, and beans. She could hear Mingo telling him what they would plant. He pointed out the trees and the birds that made them their home, all the while Ken-tah-teh's little head turning and taking in everything.
She knew Mingo would tell him of the Great Spirit and the many things He provided for his people. How they would thank the Great Spirit for all that He had given them. Mingo put the baby down on the bare and frozen ground. Holding onto his hands, Mingo walked slowly enough so the little warrior could keep up.
Father and son, walking together, Songbird knew it was something the Cherokee man had longed for. Taking one last peek at her husband and baby, she looked to the sky and thanked the Great Spirit. For this was something the beautiful Choctaw maiden had longed for as well.
Songbird closed the door, slipped off her long deerskin robe and stepped into the bath. As the water surrounded her body in warmth, she closed her eyes and sighed,
"And thank you, Great Spirit, for this most wonderful hot bath."
Chapter 8
"February's sun is a fool's sun," Cincinnatus Cicero Jones often said. "It shines bright in the sky, but chills you head to toe."
In the Kentucky wilderness, February could be one of the coldest months of the winter. On this 2nd day of February, 1776, the sun was radiant, but the air was brisk. Inside the tavern and general store of Boonesborough, Cincinnatus prepared for a very special celebration. One year ago today Mingo and Songbird's little boy was born. And it just so happened that it was his birthday too.
Jericho Jones, who was no relation to Cincinnatus, but a friend and helper around the store, had already filled the wood box to overflowing. The younger Jones cut plenty of wood to keep the tavern comfortable for the special event. He cleaned the soot and ash from the hearth as well. That would help the fire burn bright and warm and long.
Cincinnatus stood by the fireplace inspecting the good job Jericho had done. With one hand on the mantle, he stared into the flames. Songbird had sparked a memory deep inside him and touched the older man in a way no one else in Boonesborough knew about, except one other person,…and Cincinnatus knew he could trust that person to respect his privacy.
It was a time long past, in a different place and Cincinnatus had been a different man. Not the tavern-keeper, store owner, or doctor of Boonesborough that he was today. 'Natus Jones had been a fur trapper living in the hills of northwest Pennsylvania, along the Allegheny River.
The bearded man warmed his hands over the fire and remembered to years back-a young and beautiful Indian woman and a baby of his own. Long ago gone, but never forgotten, he reached for his handkerchief to dry his eyes.
Cincinnatus was happy for his friend, Mingo, the Cherokee man who had shown Daniel Boone the perfect place to build the fort they now called home. Being half-Cherokee, half-English, Mingo had always strived to bring peace between the white man and the Indians even when the white man didn't always treat him with the same respect.
The first time Cincinnatus saw Mingo and Songbird together, he knew it was a match made in Heaven, a match blessed by the Great Spirit. When the little Choctaw maiden smiled at the store keeper and shook his hand that first day, he was certain she was the one for Mingo.
The love of a good woman is what every man needs, the older man thought to himself, even if they won't admit it. Every man is searching for that love, for that partner who completes him. Some men find it, he thought. And some men find it, only to have it taken from him way too soon. His was a long, lost memory as cold as the ashes of a day old fire. But every so often, on a freezing winter's night, in an empty tavern, those memories came back and warmed his lonely heart as he sat by the hearth.
The comfort of this blazing fire before him now reminded him of the warmth of a woman's love that once was his. It was proper; the tavern-keeper thought again, that Mingo would meet someone so special, someone who would warm Mingo, like his woman had warmed him so long ago. It was proper because Mingo was that person who Cincinnatus had shared the story of his other life with. On a trip to Pennsylvania, he and Mingo shared several stories over their campfires at night.
But that memory was then and this was now, February 2nd, 1776. Today was Ken-tah-teh's first birthday. And even though Indians don't really celebrate birthdays the way the white man does, Mingo's friends among the white settlers of Boonesborough wanted to help him and his family celebrate this special day.
Cincinnatus was expecting the same little group who had welcomed Mingo and Songbird when they brought their baby boy home to their lodge for the first time. The Boones, Jericho, Tupper, Isaac Crandall and his wife, Marie and a man who Cincinnatus had been seeing a lot of in the tavern as of late, Yancy Taylor.
Yancy Taylor was tall like Daniel and Mingo, but thinner in build. He had a thick head of hair that had turned gray with age; Yancy did not wear a beard like so many other men of the fort.
"Gits in the way of kissin' my wife," the easy-going man would say with a grin.
All who knew him said, the only time you'd see Yancy without a smile on his face was if he was asleep. Although he was older, both Daniel and Mingo remarked how neither could keep up with him, whether they were hunting or fishing or eating. It was a well known fact in Boonesborough that Yancy Taylor loved a good meal, hard work, and his big family. When he wasn't laboring on his own farm, he was working odd jobs to make ends meet.
Right now, Yancy was a guide for the two surveyors hired by the Continental Army who were staying at Cincinnatus 'general store and tavern. They weren't men Yancy would normally associate with and there was something about them Cincinnatus didn't like. They were English; he knew that by their talk. There were many Englishmen who were on the side of the colonists. And Yancy wasn't one to pry in to a man's private business. The Continental Army was paying them to survey, just like they were paying Yancy to guide them.
Besides, this time of year when the root cellar was beginning to empty out, it helped keep food on the table, wood in the fireplace, and whatever else his wife, Sarah, and six young'uns might need to get through the winter. The job would only be for a few more months, and seldom was he away from home for more than one or two days. And Cincinnatus knew that was real important to this good-natured family man.
Yancy and the surveyors he was guiding had already had their morning meal and were gone. There was plenty of time for those who called Mingo and Songbird friends to come together for Ken-tah-teh's birthday. Cincinnatus felt bad that Yancy would not be here, but it was just as well. The tavern keeper didn't know the surveyors. They were strangers to Boonesborough, and hearing words like savages and redskins coming from their rum-filled mouths did not make for a good first impression. It was not an uncommon occurrence with so many travelers passing through, but Cincinnatus would have none of that today-not during Ken-tah-teh's party.
Most days, they left after they ate and did not return until sundown. After their supper and a few pints of rum, the four of them would bed down for the night in their rooms up over the tavern. But today of all days, just about midday when Cincinnatus was expecting the party guests, the door to the tavern flew open and in walked the four burly men and Yancy Taylor.
"Come on in," Cincinnatus shouted wearing a big smile that immediately turned to a scowl. Yancy quickly squeezed by the four men to get to him.
"I'm sorry, Cincinnatus, but there wasn't anything we could do. The pack horse went lame and we ended up totin' all the equipment back ourselves."
An icy glare followed each of the four men as they commandeered their table in the back of the room.
"Four rums if you please, Mr. Jones," John Eliot barked.
A full head of gray hair that matched his well-kept beard, John Eliot carried his 225 pounds well on his 6' 3" frame. He was the head surveyor. Working along side him was his younger brother, Cameron. His hair wasn't quite as gray yet, but he had the same build as his brother. They were English, leaving London two years before and traveling to the colonies to seek their fortune. John was 55 and Cameron, 48.
The other two men making up the foursome were Reese Gaylord and Simon Briggs. They were younger, both in their 30's. They, however, were not English; like many men in the growing land, they found work where they could. Honest, dishonest, it made no difference as long as they got paid. A jingle of coins in the pocket one day, gone the next if there was a tavern nearby. They had been working with the two Englishmen for about a month, a little longer than Yancy. Their jobs basically were to carry the surveying equipment for the Eliot brothers once they were at the site being surveyed.
Both Gaylord and Briggs were known around Boonesborough, not always the most honest of men, but never convicted of any serious crimes, just suspicious enough to make the hair on the back of Cincinnatus' neck stand on end.
The icy glare that had followed the four men back to their table now turned to Yancy Taylor, who sheepishly smiled at the tavern keeper.
"I told 'em, 'Natus. I told 'em you were having a special to-do here today. They said they would be on their best behavior. They're just going to play some cards, have a few drinks and not bother anybody."
Cincinnatus went behind the bar to draw the four rums.
"They better be, Yancy. You tell 'em we got women and children comin' here today. I don't want to hear any of that rowdy rum talk about savages or redskins like I heard before from their table. This is Mingo and Songbird and little Ken-tah-teh we're talkin' about."
Yancy went behind the bar, put his arm around his friend, and took hold of his beard.
"Don't you worry, Eeeooowww. Mingo is my friend too. I'll make sure they know." He picked up the tray holding the four mugs of rum. "Besides I'm kinda glad. I didn't want to miss Tah-teh's special day."
As Yancy delivered the drinks to Eliot and his men, the door opened and in came Rebecca, Jemima, Marie Crandall, and Sarah Taylor. They took over the two front tables closest to the fire, pushed them together to make one long table and began filling it with food and gifts.
"Good," Rebecca said, "Mingo and Songbird and the baby aren't here yet."
Cincinnatus put another log on the fire.
"No, Becky, but I expect they're on their way."
Mingo's long strides could make it easily from his lodge to Boonesborough in thirty minutes. Walking with his family would take a little longer. Songbird was a strong woman and did well in keeping up with her husband. Taking turns carrying a little warrior who watched and listened and pointed and asked about everything around him tended to make their journey a bit longer. It would be an hour's walk or longer for Mingo and his family. But the new parents didn't mind, for they loved the land they named their son after and loved sharing it with him.
Overhead the sun was shining, but not enough to warm the winter air. The ground was still frozen, but dry and bare. Ken-tah-teh insisted on walking between his parents, holding on to their hands. But it wasn't long until his little legs began to tire.
"Tah-teh up," his arms went up to his father.
Handing his rifle to Songbird, Mingo growled as he picked him up.
"Come here, you little bear cub. Wait until Eeeooowww sees your new coat. Can you growl for Eeeooowww?"
A little growl came from the hooded face. Within minutes Ken-tah-teh's head lay on Mingo's shoulder. In the safety of his father's arms, the baby was lulled to sleep by the gentle song his parents sang to him.
"Sleep well, young Ken-tah-teh,
Named for the Promised Land.
Sleep well and sweet dreams,
For our brave little man.
Rest well, Little Warrior,
So you will grow strong.
We'll keep you safe and warm,
And sing you a sleeping song."
"We are almost halfway there," Mingo said to Songbird. "Why don't we stop here for a drink and rest for a few minutes?"
She leaned Mingo's rifle against a big log and took off the empty cradle board she had been carrying on her back. Mingo placed the sleeping baby in it and leaned it on the log as well.
"I think he has gotten too big for the cradle board," Mingo said. "I will carry him the rest of the way so he can sleep."
Songbird sat down on the log next to the baby. Mingo picked up his rifle and sat down next to his wife. He handed her the water pouch. She took a drink and handed it back to him.
"It is good that he sleeps now," Songbird said, "He will be in good spirits for his special time."
Mingo leaned his rifle against the log and took a drink of the water. He put the pouch back in his pack and stretched his arms and legs out in front of him.
"We have a lot of time," he said pointing to the sun. "Daniel said midday and it is two hours until then. It would not be in good taste to arrive too early, you know."
Songbird leered at him. "What is my husband suggesting we do, to not arrive too early?"
Mingo leaned back listening to the snoring baby, and then leaned forward wearing a familiar smile.
"Well, if my wife is tired, I could spread out my blanket right here on the ground and we could take a little rest of our own."
"Mingo," she said coyly.
"You know, Songbird, it is not often that we are alone together while he sleeps."
She stretched her arms out in front of her and smiled.
"We are alone together every night while he sleeps."
Mingo rolled his eyes, "Yes, and he sleeps between us in the same bed."
Songbird looked away, feigning disappointment.
"Is my husband saying that our son should not be sleeping in our bed with us, but in the other bed, cold and all alone?"
Mingo stood up, his arms across his chest.
"Now Songbird, you know very well there is no other place I want Ken-tah-teh to sleep than with us in our bed….until the time when he is old enough and wants to sleep in a bed of his own."
The Choctaw woman stood and faced him.
"And maybe by then there will be another little one sleeping in our bed with us."
Mingo's eyes dropped to the blue and white blanket rolled tightly by his pack.
"Hmmmm, I wonder?" he smiled, now joining in her teasing.
Songbird took his crossed hands from his chest and put them around her neck. She leaned in close, wrapping her arms around him.
"Do not wonder, my husband, it will happen," she spoke softly. "The Great Spirit will send us many children." Then she looked into his dark eyes. "But today is our son's day, our firstborn son's day. Today we celebrate with our good friends at Boonesborough who we do not want to keep waiting."
Mingo pressed his lips to hers. They held each other close for a moment, and then looked at their sleeping son.
"I guess we had better get back on the trail," he said and handed Songbird his rifle. He took Ken-tah-teh out of the cradle board. "Come, Little Warrior, Papa will carry you. Mama will protect her men."
Mingo held on to the rifle and the baby while Songbird put the empty cradle board on her back. Then she took back the rifle, his powder and shot and they were on their way. Ken-tah-teh opened his eyes for a moment, and then laid his head back down on Mingo's shoulder. Dropping off to sleep once more, he did not wake up until they approached the gates of Boonesborough.
Mingo waved to the guard on the wall of the Fort. Seconds later the big gate swung open and welcomed them in.
He made certain Songbird was close by him as he looked to see if any strangers were around that might not be comfortable with Indians in the Fort. He didn't see any.
Ken-tah-teh's head turned in every direction. This was more people gathered in one place than he had seen since his last visit. Every horse he saw he pointed out to his parents,
"Po," he said.
"Po-nee," his father tried correcting him.
"Po?" the baby said again.
"No, Ken-tah-teh, say Po-nee," Mingo tried again.
"Po?" the baby pointed straight ahead. Then Mingo realized who he wanted his father to see. Coming toward them were Daniel and Israel Boone, wearing identical grins on their faces. Israel reached them first.
"Hi, Ken-tah-teh, Happy Birthday!"
Recognizing Israel, the baby pointed to the littlest Boone.
"Hi, Songbird, hi, Mingo," Israel continued.
"Hello, Israel," they both answered.
''Well now, would you look at you?" Daniel finally caught up with them. "Tah-teh, I declare you're going to be taller than me and your Papa."
The baby began to wriggle and squirm as Daniel put out his arms.
"Po. Po," Ken-tah-teh said again.
Mingo let him go to Daniel.
"So that's the 'Po' you wanted me to see, Ken-tah-teh."
It was evident the baby was comfortable in the other big man's arms. He pointed to Israel.
"That's Israel," Daniel told him. The baby pointed again. "Israel," Daniel repeated. "My boy."
"Boy?" Ken-tah-teh asked.
Daniel smiled, "Yes, my boy. Like you are your Papa's boy."
The baby pointed to Mingo, "Papa."
Daniel laughed, "Mingo, he talks more than you do. Then again that ain't sayin' much. You bein' a man of few words." Daniel winked at Songbird.
Mingo had taken his rifle, powder and shot back from Songbird.
"Now you have done it, Daniel. Now he will call Israel 'Boy' until he learns his correct name." Mingo stated.
Israel was standing in front of Songbird, her hands were on his shoulders.
"That's okay, he can call me 'Boy,' "Israel answered.
"Boy," the baby repeated.
Daniel turned to Songbird,
"And who is that?"
Ken-tah-teh pointed, "Mama," he assured Daniel, who grinned at the proud mother.
"You sure are a smart boy, Tah-teh."
The big man gently poked the little nose that was inside the furry hood.
"Tah-teh, are you in there?"
To which the baby grabbed Daniel's nose and exclaimed,
"Nose."
Now it was Mingo's turn and he couldn't hide his delight.
"Oh, Daniel, we should have warned you. That is one of his favorite games."
They had reached the door of the tavern.
"Come on, Tah-teh," Daniel said, "There are a lot of people inside waiting to see how big you've gotten since one year ago ."
