Prologue
June 17th, 1777
Jemima Boone was sitting on the porch, talking with her friend Diana Crawford. The Crawfords were moving away. Diana and Jemima would probably never see one another again. Jemima was used to having people come in and out of her life, but Diana's leaving was hard on her. She had made her an apron as a parting gift and decorated it with embroidery representing the settlement. They were talking the afternoon away at the Crawford's cabin. As she saw the sun beginning to travel westward, Jemima knew she had to go. She hugged Diana and asked her to try to write as soon as she could. It was unlikely that news would reach them for months, but they aimed to try.
Jemima walked toward the fort; she would meet her mother at Cincinnatus' tavern. Rebecca was picking up supplies that Daniel had forgotten to bring last week. Her father and Mingo had gone hunting yesterday morning; Rebecca and Jemima were both surprised the men weren't back yet. The fields needed tending. Daniel wasn't too keen on farming, but he did the work when it was required.
The Crawfords' cabin was closer to the fort than their own; barely a 20 minute walk.
As she walked inside the fort, many ladies waved at her; she knew some would frown when they would see her entering the tavern by herself. It was fine when she went in with her mother or her father, but people talked when she went in alone. Jemima had her parents' view about stating and standing by her opinions and ways, so if these ladies though she was acting inappropriately, she couldn't be bothered to care about it.
She opened the door; the smell of her mother's cooking was heavy in the air. It was obvious they would eat supper here, before heading home.
Her mother saw her and, smiling, asked her. "Have you seen your brother outside?" Jemima hadn't. Mother and daughter shared a look.
There was no one else in the tavern; sunny days had menfolk in the fields and many women helping them. Cincinnatus was cleaning behind the counter.
The door opened yet again. Mingo walked in. Jemima smiled in welcome. "Hello, Mingo, Pa with you? When did you get back?"
The tall Indian had left the door opened behind him; he turned toward Jemima's voice and glared at her. He stood in the middle of the room radiating anger. He went to Jemima in three long strides, grabbed her by the hair, slapped her face viciously and slammed her hard into the table.
"Don't move!" he barked harshly to the young woman.
Rebecca cried loudly, "What's wrong with you? What are you doing to Jemima?" as she went to check on her daughter.
Cincinnatus couldn't believe his eyes, but nevertheless grabbed the handgun he kept underneath his counter, charged and ready, and screamed at Mingo to stand where he was.
Mingo took two steps toward Rebecca, grabbed her shoulders strongly, stared her straight in the eyes and ripped her dress, plunging his hand straight into her bodice. He tried to lift her skirts up as he pushed her into the table.
He heard the hammer of Cincinnatus' gun and said in a threatening tone, without even turning his head, "Cincinnatus, I can snap her neck in 10 seconds. I suggest that you lower your gun, and she will live through it. Just watch. It is about time this woman learned what a real man is like."