Chapter Seven

Questions and Doubts

Jack was easier to hitch up to the wagon than his counterpart, Dan. Daniel could see the big gray was giving his Cherokee friend, Mingo, a hard time. He had to laugh as he listened in on the speech the Oxford-educated man was giving the animal. "Now Daniel, if you continue to resist my efforts, I will make certain that Jack receives your share of oats for dinner this evening." The big frontiersman edged up behind the Cherokee, "Why don't you try callin' him Dan, instead of 'Dan-yel,' Mingo?" he beamed. He saw those dark Cherokee eyes roll at him. The look on Mingo's face told Daniel, that he wasn't aware he was listening as the big workhorse received his Oxford lecture.

"I'm sorry, Daniel, it is a force of habit."

The unhitched harness was still in Mingo's hand. Daniel gingerly took the leather strap from him. "How 'bout you makin' sure all our gear is packed and I'll take care of this big feller." He watched as Mingo ambled to the back of the wagon.

Jack and Dan, shook their heads and kicked up the dirt anxiously with their hooves. First one, then the other. The rattle of their harnesses sounded like Becky's "kettle and spoon" call to supper. Hearing the buckboard and other team pull out earlier, the two horses were ready to get moving themselves.

"Easy boys," Daniel said. "We'll be on the road in a minute."

Mingo climbed up in the front of the wagon and watched as Daniel checked the horses' riggings one last time. He placed their rifles safely under the seat within easy reach. Their packs were securely stowed in the back of the wagon. "Jack and Dan, they have taken us on more than one journey, have they not, Daniel?" Mingo said.

Daniel smiled. "Yep." He patted Jack on the shoulder as he walked toward the wagon. "You ready to go home, Mingo?"

Mingo nodded. "I am ready whenever you are, Daniel." The Cherokee looked refreshed. He had a new bandage his friend had put on his wound and that had to feel good. Mr. Shelby had made certain of that before he was taken away. The rest of the bandages and witch hazel were in Daniel's pack.

Daniel climbed up in the seat beside Mingo. He unwrapped the reins from the brake handle. "I'll drive for a spell," Daniel said. "We ought to be able to get a few miles under our belts before the sun sets." He saw Mingo nod again as he kicked the brake loose and snapped the reins. The horses stepped lively and in unison down the road. "By the way Andy and Sadie asked us to stop for a meal on our way back home to Boonesborough."

Mingo thought for a moment. "Perhaps next time, Daniel. If you do not mind I would prefer to go straight home, or must you return Andy's wagon to him?"

The big man shook his head, "Nope. I asked Andy if I could borrow it for a couple of weeks. Thought I could help carry some logs for the new cabin Malachi Robinson and his wife are building. So there's no hurry to get it back to Allegany Pass. "

"That is good then," Mingo answered, but his mind was not on cabin building.

Mingo's normally reserved nature was extra evident to Daniel as they started down the trail. He had begun to realize that Mingo had been through something more emotional then physical in the last two days. His friend's experiences with torture were many--the Shawnee, the Creek, the white man, even his own brother. It was more than physical cruelty that was bothering him. "All right then, Boonesborough here we come," the big man slapped his friend on the knee. Gidyap, boys!" The team's heads bobbed up and down along with the rhythm of their gait. "Besides I suspect that Becky's got Cincinnatus and Tupper out lookin' for us already." Daniel thought he saw the hint of a smile on his friend's face. It was a start at helping Mingo talk about what had happened to him.

The woods ahead of them was filled with maple and oak trees, a gray and black squirrels' paradise. The July warmth and freshness in the air was a comfort. Neither spoke a word as they rode for a half an hour. Then suddenly Daniel yanked on the reins.

"Whoa boys!" he shouted.

Mingo grabbed his rifle and looked around for trouble. He saw none. "What is it, Daniel, what's wrong?"

"Almost forgot," Daniel answered. He jumped up and handed Mingo the reins. His long legs carried him easily over the seat into the back of the wagon.

"What are you looking for Daniel?" Mingo placed his rifle back under the seat.

"This," the big man answered.

He handed Mingo the picnic basket Andy had put in the wagon for them. Then he stepped back over the seat, sat back down and took the reins again. "Whew! I'm out of breath!"

The Cherokee held the basket in his lap, his eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement.

"What is this?" Mingo asked.

"Why it's a picnic basket, Mingo. Didn't they have picnics over yonder in Oxford when you were there?" Mingo could see that Daniel's playful side had been hidden long enough.

"Well, most certainly we had picnics at Oxford, Daniel," the Cherokee came back.

Mingo had stared at the basket much too long for the big man. "Well, for gosh sakes will you open it!" Daniel yipped. "Boy, Sadie would skin me alive if I forgot to give you this."

Mingo looked at him inquisitively, almost uncertain, knowing his big friend's sense of humor. But he opened the basket just the same. As Mingo removed the checkered cloth that covered the contents, his face lit up with a smile bigger than a child's on Christmas morning. Inside were Sadie's molasses cookies. The dark, spicy cookie was a favorite of his. One of the good memories he had of his younger days in London.

Sadie Willis made the best molasses cookies in the territory--big, soft, thick, and with lots of extra sugar on top.

Mingo sat with a cookie in each hand. He bit into the sweet treat letting all the extra sugar fall on his lap. He would worry about brushing it off later. The second bite was even better than the first. He leaned back on the seat, and let himself relax. For the first time in two days his weary body rested. He couldn't explain it, but these silly little molasses cookies melted the icy feelings that were cold inside him. Something good and simple, like a molasses cookie, took his mind off all that he had been through in the last few days. It calmed him.

"Well are you gonna eat all those cookies yourself, or do I have to stop these boys and wrassle you fer one?" Daniel's face broke into a big grin.

Mingo started to hand him one, then took it back. His dimples presented themselves as he delighted in his own childish prank. The puppy dog look he saw on Daniel's face made him smile all the more. He handed him two of Sadie's home baked treasures.

"Much obliged." the big man said and had them gone before Mingo had taken another bite of his. The Cherokee gave him another and started talking….talking about everything. The hesitancy had slipped away. He told Daniel about his boyhood fear of the water and how Trapper--Mr. Shelby, saved him on that day twenty years ago and then taught him how to swim.

The horses set their own pace, leaving the driving an easy task for any man on the long straight road ahead. Daniel Boone was a good listener. He understood people, but most of all he understood the confused life of his friend. So he was ready to let his blood brother talk when he knew Mingo was ready for him to listen.

The wild flowers of summer were in full bloom as they rode through the quiet, verdant woods. Honeybees and hummingbirds took turns buzzing their choruses. Mingo reached for the canteen that was under the seat. He handed it first to Daniel who took a big drink, then took a drink himself. He closed it up and set it in the seat between

them.

"I am troubled, Daniel. Did I give Simon Gore the information he wanted because it is what I was instructed to do? Or was it because I was terrified of drowning as when I was a boy? Was it that easy for me to become a traitor?"

"And I am troubled as well that these men have taken from me a special place where I always felt safe to go and be with my thoughts. Will I ever be able to go back to that place again?" Shaking his head, "I do not know, Daniel, I just do not know."

Like the water over the Falls, all the insecurities of the last experience poured out of him.

Mingo suddenly realized that Daniel hadn't spoken a word in forty-five minutes. He stopped and looked at the big man. "I am rambling aren't I, Daniel?" he asked. "I sound like Israel the first time he shot your rifle and hit the target dead center. Do you remember? His mouth could not keep up with the thoughts in his head. He just kept talking and talking and talking."

Daniel smiled at that memory of his little boy. "I remember," he chuckled. "And you're not ramblin' Mingo, you're just talkin'….to me. I think all this has been churnin' 'round inside you right here." He reached over and touched his friend's chest. "And if you don't let it out, you're gonna explode, so you just keep talkin' and I'll keep listenin'."

There is a look, or a smile, or a gesture between close friends to let them know how they feel without saying it aloud. Mingo gave Daniel that look and then took the reins from him. He needed something to do with his hands while he talked. "Daniel, I feel so betrayed. Shelby befriended me as a boy, helped me to overcome my fear and then used that fear against me. He gave Gore the one piece of information that he knew could quite possibly break my spirit and make me commit treason against you and General Washington and the country that I hold dear. "

Mingo saw that his friend was pondering the questions he had posed. "Oh I realize Daniel, that it was our plan from the beginning to have one of us be captured and leak the information. But now that it was I who did so--so easily it would seem," he faltered. "Well, I am filled with doubts.."

The sun was disappearing through the trees, throwing strange shadows on the trail ahead. The hot moist air of summer would quickly turn cool, once the daystar finally set. Daniel pointed to a small clearing. "This looks like a good spot to camp for the night."

Mingo pulled on the reins. "Whoa."

Daniel jumped down and began to unhitch the big horses. "Why don't you get a fire going and start the coffee? I'll get these boys some supper."

The smell of burning wood and fresh coffee was a combination all too familiar to the two companions. Many a Kentucky night like this one had been spent under the stars. Mingo spread their blankets on the ground with a log behind them to lean on as Daniel gave Jack and Dan a rub down and a big helping of oats and water. The pair nickered with delight as he did.

When Daniel returned to the fire he observed Mingo sitting in front of the fire, breaking up twigs into little pieces and throwing them into the flames. It was a nervous habit of the Cherokee's.

Daniel poured himself a cup of coffee, sat down, leaned back on the log, and then stretched his long legs out in front of him. The first swallow of coffee went down easy. "We shoulda saved us some of them cookies," Daniel said.

Mingo stared into the fire.

"Answers Mingo," Daniel said. "Remember when I asked you for answers after Tara Mingo shot Yadkin and you took the blame tight-lipped and mysterious like you can be sometimes. You wouldn't tell us about your brother to save yourself."

Mingo nodded. "I remember."

"So now you're lookin' for some answers from me."

In anticipation, his Cherokee friend broke up the last twig and threw it into the fire. "It would seem so, Daniel. Do you have any to offer me?"

The big man sat up straight, put down his coffee cup, and looked into the eyes of the man across from him. He slapped his hands together, and pointed at him with his two index fingers and then raised them to his mouth. "Mingo, the word traitor and you don't even belong in the same sentence. I don't know a more loyal and honest man than you. The white man and the red man haven't always treated you with kindness, and still you fight for peace between em. Traitor, no! No man better ever call you a traitor and expect to stay standin' while I'm around. And that's all I got to say 'bout that."

"I know such a man myself," the Cherokee added respectively.

Daniel smiled a thank you. He poured himself another cup of coffee and continued. It was his turn to talk now. "Shelby told me what they did to you. How Gore beat you and cut you and then at the Falls…."

Mingo closed his eyes and listened.

"….I don't know any man who wouldn't be a mite uncomfortable in that situation, whether you liked water or not. Stretched out like a hide dryin' in the sun, bein' pulled up and down, hangin' over a seventy foot drop off, knowin' your life was in the hands of a madman like Gore and those two outlaws he called friends. Any man would be afraid, and if they say they wouldn't be…well then they're lyin'. I expect when you get home you'll be able to swim just like you always have. I've never seen you run from a river yet when you've been with me." The big man threw more kindling on the fire. "And Shelby, well he didn't betray you….you just grew up. It's one thing bein' a little boy learnin' how to swim. It's another thing being a grown man and another being asked by your Commander-in-Chief to put your life on the line, by flushin' out enemy spies. Your priorities are different now. Shelby was doin' his duty, and you were doin' yours. And yes I said priorities." Daniel waited for another reference to his limited vocabulary. He could see his learned friend was not going to give him one this time.

"As far as your special place, I'm afraid I can't help you there. You have to face that one on your own…but I'm thinkin'you won't be alone when you get there." Daniel finished the last of his coffee and sat back against the log.

Mingo leaned back as well, considering all of the answers he had been given. "How could one man with a backwoods education, who gets pleasure out of hiding Cincinnatus' suspenders so his pants won't stay up, be so wise in the ways of the world and people?" he asked quietly. Daniel could tell his words had touched him.

"It ain't easy growin' up, is it Mingo?"

"No it is not, Daniel."

Both men sat with their arms crossed in thought. There wasn't another living soul within thirty miles of them, even the night birds had gone to sleep. Still, Daniel looked all around to see if anybody else was listening before continuing. Then he leaned over, tapped Mingo on the shoulder and whispered.

"Just between you and me, Mingo. I hate mice. I've hated em since I was a young'un and one of the little critters ran up the leg of my breeches in the middle of church meetin' You never saw so many ladies hide their eyes when I stripped off those breeches in front of the whole congregation…stood there in my long underwear. I was, ten years old and already six foot tall, standin' half naked in the middle of the Lord's house. Why the preacher almost……"

Daniel had to stop

Mingo was laughing so hard he held onto his sides to ease the hurt of his bruised ribs. The Cherokee couldn't catch his breath. Tears ran down his bronzed cheeks. "Oh Daniel," he said. "Please no more. That is a picture I am not sure I want painted in my mind. Who would ever think the mighty woodsman, Daniel Boone is afraid of mice?" And with that, he started to laugh all over again. "Standing in the middle of a church meeting in your long underwear!" He howled. "Wait until I get back to Boones…." Mingo froze as he was abruptly interrupted by a finger, shaking violently in front of his nose.??

Daniel did he best to maintain a severe tone, but it was useless. Still he did his best. "If I find out anyone else back in Boonesborough knows about this. If one person puts a mouse in my pack or in my pocket,…If Cincinnatus makes sure there's a mouse in my chair 'fore I set down, or if my own son hides one of them little critters in my boot, I'll find you, Mingo, and I'll hang you upside down by your heels from that big sycamore tree in our front yard." Daniel's straight face lasted no more than two seconds before he started laughing with his friend. He could see the Cherokee was trying to regain his composure as well, but with very little success.

"Oh Daniel, it feels very good to laugh, even if it is painful." Mingo said, drawing a deep breath. Then he stretched out on his blanket. Daniel watched him lie down and gaze at the stars. They had got their sparkle back for him. Daniel smiled. Apparently his friend had all the answers he needed.

The two friends settled in for the night, as they had many times before by a warm campfire. Both had their long rifles close by their sides.

Daniel pulled his coonskin cap over his eyes and yawned, then stretched--a ritual Mingo had observed many times before.

"Good night, Daniel."

"Night, Mingo."

"Daniel?"

"Yep."

"Thank you."

"Get some sleep." The big man reached over and slapped his friend on the knee.

"Daniel?"

"Yep."

"There are still two cookies left in the picnic basket."

Daniel chuckled, "Sounds like a good breakfast to me."

"To me too," Mingo closed his eyes.