Chapter 1

March 1750

The spring had come early, too early that year. Water flooded Chota, reserves of vegetables were tainted and many Cherokee became ill.

Talota's fever kept rising; she had lost weight and was unable to drink. One evening of heavy rain with her brother and younger son by her side, Talota went to her happy hunting ground to meet her elders, gone before her. The white husband she had taken to her heart had been gone since before the first snowfall. Her oldest son was living with his father's people. She told her youngest son Mingo of her love for him, and made him promise he would survive in the new world that was coming to the land of his Cherokee ancestors.

Mingo's father returned in May, a few weeks after Talota's funeral and took his young son home to England. The boy was not yet 11-years-old and spoke little of his father's tongue. As soon as he could, the white father he had rarely seen bought him white man's clothing and had his long hair cropped.

They boarded the HMS Emperor in Boston in late June. It took nearly eight weeks to cross the Atlantic and arrive in Liverpool. Mingo's hair had been cut a few hours prior to departure. His Cherokee clothes discarded two days before reaching Boston.

Mingo had even lost his name. In Boston his father ordered him christened in the white religion and he was suddenly called Christopher. He never forgave the older man.

The tall child who walked up the gangplank to share a cabin with his English father was wild and slightly scares, but he was dressed in the fine traveling clothes appropriate for a white boy. The child was sick during the entire journey. He lost weight. When they landed in England at last, he was angry as well as sick. Mingo was used to the ways of the Cherokee where children were precious and well cared for. He had been ignored and even harassed on the trip by his father and by the sailors. He had quickly learned a fact of the white world: children were meant to be seen and not heard, to speak only when spoken to. His English was limited and his father, who spoke Cherokee, had decided not to use it ever again. His son was now an English boy and on his way to his new home.

They rode in a carriage for nearly two day before arriving at the estate where he would spend the coming years learning to read and write, most of his summer enjoying horse-riding and hunting and most of the Christmas holidays. His father was easier on him at that point, showing him the country with pride, teaching him new words daily and making sure he ate well to make up for the lost weight. Mingo's heart rose in hope.

The estate was an old and very large mansion. He was immediately shown to a huge room that would be his. Two small windows faced the manicured lawn. Less than a week later Mingo was introduced to a grey-haired woman after his breakfast. She was his governess, hired to teach him manners, social rules and all that an English gentleman should know. Mistress Carmichael was a dry person; a Bible reader with a strict code of conduct. Mingo disliked her immediately. He crossed his arms in the Indian way, refusing to acknowledge her presence.

Defiance and pride. Mistress Carmichael knew she would crush those quickly. She never thought she would lose such a battle.

In January 1751, Mistress Carmichael left the estate with a huge sum of cash and a promise of a yearly stipend. The money bought her silence; should she ever tell of Mingo's true origin, Lord Dunsmore would destroy her and her credentials forever. As it was, he recommended her to acquaintances of his to raise their young three-year-old daughter. She would turn the young little girl into a proper Englishwoman. Mistress Carmichael left behind a very angry young man who, having learned English rapidly, had told her exactly how he felt about her.

Mister Parker, his tutor, arrived a month after Mistress Carmichael had left. He was a kind man and he managed to transmit his love of the written word by using wit and understanding. He sat with Christopher under the huge oak by the rose garden and taught him the English language by reading to him and having him repeat the names of everything he knew in Cherokee first. Parker was also very strict and as Christopher learned more and more English, he began keeping the boy indoors more. Parker was given the extra duty of teaching Christopher to become the gentleman he was meant to be. But Christopher never lost the habit of crossing his arms and staring down anyone who displeased him. He was still fierce and proud and his father secretly took pride in this part of Christopher's character.

Lord Dunsmore had plans for his son's future and duty to the Crown. With rank and privilege came honor and duty to the Crown. He never noticed that his Cherokee-bred son was dutiful and honor-bound to his own Cherokee blood. Mingo's pride and strength were devoted to growing into a warrior, right under his father's haughty nose. Mingo the Cherokee youth had nothing in common with Christopher, the blue-blooded aristocrat he pretended to be. He kept his Cherokee heart and soul secret from everyone around him

Christopher had his own horse in the stable. Good reports from Mister Parker meant an hour's ride. Books read and discussed meant a weekend of hunting with the gamekeeper.

Mingo made the most of the life he now led. Books were cherished, words were a blessing and knowledge was constantly sought. So with summer and the freedom to roam the forest and the gardens, to hunt and to ride, he reconciled the events which he could not yet control.