Chapter 3
June 1, 1777 – 16 days before.
Henry Hartford arrived at the rendezvous point an hour ahead of time. He was a tall, nervous man, with blond hair and green eyes, in his mid-thirties, dressed as a woodsman. Colonel Hartford had requested another volunteer for this mission but Henry had insisted on volunteering for reasons known only to himself.
Mingo was right on time, however.
They gave each other a long, meaningful stare. Mingo finally smiled and extended his hand, "Henry, how are you?"
Henry smiled back, and clasped Mingo's hand. "You've changed a lot since we last shook hands, Mingo."
"Yes, things happen in life. I am a happy man now. I lead the life my mother would have wanted me to lead. How long have you been in America, Henry?" inquired Mingo.
"I left England in 1767, three years after you. I finished my studies in Oxford, became an engineer. My mother died a year before I came back but Father didn't send for me. He wanted me to finish my studies. He is now a Colonel in the Continental Army. Since Father drafted me into his regiment 6 years ago, I have done more spying than engineering. When one of his lieutenants came to Boonesborough and heard of an Indian friend of Daniel Boone, with an accent like mine, I felt it could only have been you, old friend." Henry hesitated. "I must call you 'Mingo', mustn't I?"
Mingo smiled readily, realizing that the friendship could not be re-established so easily. "It's who I am, who I was even when you knew me as a white man's son."
"Not just a white man's son, Chr-- Mingo. The man I knew was a lord's son, with a duty to the title." Bitterness crept into Henry's tone.
"I am Mingo, son of Talota, Cherokee princess; that's who I am, Henry. I hope you can learn to accept me as you did when we studied together, in our room in Oxford," Mingo said firmly.
A silence followed. Henry had to choose whether to end or renew the friendship.
"Do you still like Shakespeare?" An overture was made from one white man to a Cherokee brave.
"Yes, I do. I haven't much opportunity to read, but I do remember his work fondly. If you have any books in your pack, I'll gladly read them," Mingo offered.
Laugher was shared, as they remembered a time already ancient to both men.
"Daniel Boone will be here shortly, as you requested. He wanted to allow us a few moments together."
Daniel arrived less than an hour later, bringing food, entering the small camp whistling cheerfully. He didn't know how the encounter between Mingo and his old friend from Oxford would turn out.
When he saw the two men sitting on the ground, and exchanging friendly words, he was glad. It meant that Mingo was probably having a good time. Daniel often felt that Mingo's time in England hadn't been pleasant.
Mingo and Henry rose as they heard Daniel coming. There was a small fire; Mingo knew Daniel would bring food with him. Mingo introduced the two men. They shook hands and Henry, opening his bandoleer, offered Daniel a letter.
"From my father, Mr. Boone, for both of you. My father remembers you and how you led men before. We need both of you to help," said Henry as he passed the missive to the tall Kentuckian.
Mingo skinned the rabbit and readied it for cooking, while Daniel read the letter.
After Mingo had put the meat to grill, he read the letter as well.
"Will you help the Continental Army, gentlemen?" Henry had no idea how the two men would react. He didn't recognize the Cherokee man sitting across him, far removed from the British nobleman he had known in his youth.
"It's been proven? " asked Daniel."You know this to be true?"
"There is no doubt about it, Mr. Boone. The British are getting ready to move troops toward Washington. They are counting on a tribe of savages in the--" Henry stopped himself, realizing his mistake. "I meant to say that a tribe of renegade Indians are helping them; I meant no disrespect, Mingo." Henry finished.
They made no comment. Daniel knew that Mingo had an incredible capacity for ignoring insults, shrugging them off, dismissing them as if they had never occurred. It was hard for Daniel to ignore insults to his Cherokee friend, but he had learned not to try to deflect them.
Henry went on, "These renegades helping the British seem to be made up of warriors from different tribes. From what we know, they are outlaws even to their own. They attack here, or raid there and their dress or weapons point to a specific tribe, usually one which has been peaceful. Then skirmishes, more raids, attacks, and peace is broken between the local whites and Indians." Henry stopped again, taking a sip of the coffee that Mingo had brewed.
"Mingo, I didn't know you could cook! You couldn't do any of this in Oxford!" Henry laughed and the ice was broken. Daniel and Mingo relaxed.
"Well, he ain't been doing it so well or for as long as you think, Henry," added Daniel.
Mingo simply ignored Daniel and nudged Henry to continue.
They learned that many small wars and raids were occurring all through the New England colonies that were now part of the new United States; that many of the white folks wanted war, wanted peace treaties broken. There were some battles fought between British forces and Continental Army regiments in the Lake Champlain area. To top it all, the militia and the Continental Army were receiving requests to protect many villages and settlements; they were being weakened by the constant traveling, and the constant fights. The renegade tribe was constantly attacking. They seemed never to lack warriors. The newly founded States and its army were being spread thin, providing men and money to arm the regiments and militia.
Colonel Hartford wanted Mingo to infiltrate the tribe and for Daniel to find the pattern of their plan. The Continental Army needed to disrupt the renegades, and to find out what the British were hoping to gain.
Would they help?
The two Kentuckians shared a look.
Of course, they would.
June 9, 1777, 8 days before
They were to meet with William Hartford in Merrick Town, a small village, two days east of the Shawnee territories. Mingo was quieter than usual on the trail. When his past resurfaced, it was never easy for Mingo to reminisce, to share any of it. He had learned that Daniel never judged, never questioned but accepted him as he was. Daniel teased often but always respected him.
Daniel shot a fair sized turkey and they shared the meal quietly. Days were much longer now, the temperature pleasant. They had walked at least 20 miles more than usual. Mingo spread his blanket on a rock near the fire; the ground was slightly damp from a small shower. Though he loved sleeping outdoors, a wet night never appealed to him. Once his blanket would be warm enough, he would lay it on the dry leaves he had gathered when they made camp an hour earlier. Daniel didn't laugh at his Indian friend - he had done the same for Daniel. They would sleep very well tonight under the stars.
"I know you won't tell me if you don't want to, but I'll ask anyway. Are you happy with your reunion with Henry? What kind of friendship did you share that he knew you were an Indian, not just a lord's son?" asked Daniel quietly.
Mingo wiped his hand on his trousers, and poured them each a cup of coffee. He looked Daniel straight in the eye. "Henry was the first and only lad I felt I could confide in. We shared the same tutor when we were about 11 or 12. I had learned English by then, but my manners still left something to be desired for a lord's son, as you described me. Father had hidden my true identity from the world. His old friend, Edward Cristham, told him that his estranged daughter's son had arrived in London to be educated, and asked if his grandson could share the same tutor. Cristham feared Henry's upbringing had been lax, living the colonial life." Mingo stopped, taking a careful sip of his coffee. He knew Daniel would listen and not ask anymore than he was willing to give him.
Daniel drank his coffee slowly. He checked the blankets; they were warm, so he spread them on the bed of leaves Mingo had made earlier. Daniel stretched his long legs out in front of him, leaning back on the log they would use as a pillow.
"Henry didn't want to be in England either, he didn't know this man he was supposed to call grandfather. He was as lost then as I was still after nearly 2 years in my father's home," continued the Cherokee in a very low voice. This confidence would be shared once, and once only.
Daniel nodded. He was listening. And he wanted Mingo to know he was his friend.
"I learned early that I was never to tell who I was, who my mother was, where I came from. Father told of an American wife who died giving birth and that a colonial family had raised me in his long absence. I had to maintain the lie. But when Henry came to my study room, and he told of America, of his life there, all those memories of my childhood flooded back. Henry was a white man's son but he lived a life that had more in common with mine that those of our elders. I didn't tell him right away; the fear of punishment was ever present in my life. At least on Father's estate, there were gardens that I could run in and enjoy if I studied hard enough. They learned soon enough what depriving me of the outside did to me." Mingo stopped once more.
Daniel didn't expect him to continue. So he got up to extinguish the fire, waved goodnight, and laid his long rifle by his arm.
Perhaps, one day, Mingo would be able to tell all about England.
June 11th, Six days before
They saw the wooden tower in the distance, with smoke rising. Merrick Town was a much smaller settlement than Boonesborough. It was a place to stop and get foodstuffs, to rest and get some basic supplies. A few people had built homes and were tending fields. Neither were surprised when a man lifted his rifle at their approach.
Daniel lowered his own rifle and called out, "My name is Daniel Boone. I am expected in the tavern."
The man lowered his rifle as well and came toward them, "I'm Lt. McTavish, sir. Sorry for the welcome and my lack of proper uniform. Colonel Hartford doesn't want me to be known as a soldier. He's waiting for you."
«This is my friend Mingo; he's also expected», Daniel said in introduction.
The three men went directly to the small tavern. They crossed the threshold and followed the young lieutenant. McTavish approached an elderly man, also dressed as a woodsman, and addressed him quite formally.
«Sir, Mr. Boone and his friend Mr. Mingo are here.»
Daniel quickly put everyone at ease. «Daniel will do».
Mingo added to the introduction «And 'Mingo' is enough for me as well, sir».
Lieutenant McTavish showed no surprise at hearing Mingo's accent, so he was obviously in the know.
«Daniel, Mingo, I can't thank you enough. Has my son has told you everything and given you my letter?" asked the Colonel.
«Yes, sir. But if you have more information to share with us, we'd be grateful, sir. What you're asking of Mingo worries me. He's an old friend of mine, and I wouldn't want harm to come to him," said Daniel.
«Daniel, I can take care of myself,» admonished Mingo.
«So, Mingo, you were a classmate of my son in England? Why did you chose this life?» asked the colonel bluntly, waving his arm at Mingo's clothing and hair.
«I was born Cherokee, sir. I was but a child when my mother died and my father took me to his home and had me educated in the way of his forefathers. But I am Cherokee and I came back to live my life here, as it was meant to be.» Mingo was as proud as ever.
The innkeeper came bearing a jug of ale and three mugs.
«Mr. Jones, there are four of us here,» said the old officer.
«There's water outside at the well if he be thirsty. But I don't serve Injuns.» The ignorance and utter lack of civility from the tavern keeper dismayed McTavish, who was willing to come forth and defend Mingo's honor.
Mingo said quite politely, «I will take a mug, Mr. Jones.»
The middle-aged man looked the tall Indian up and down and repeated slowly, «I don't serve the likes of you and won't."
«I will take a mug and share ale with these friends of mine,» Mingo's tone was hard and serious.
Daniel smirked. He knew exactly what Mingo was capable of. He simply leaned his tall frame against the tavern door and let his friend handle the situation. He kept his eyes on young McTavish. The young officer might feel an obligation to defend Mingo, and Daniel wanted to make sure the young officer would stay put. He extended an arm and pushed McTavish to his side, murmuring words to stand still.
The colonel sat at the long wooden table and watched both men's interaction.
«I don't serve the likes of you in my own tavern. You can all go if you don't like it.» The man was nearly as tall as Mingo, freshly shaven, with strong, hard arms. A noteworthy opponent, unwilling to let go of his prejudice, and willing to lose money and business rather than serve an Indian, he had hard steel gray eyes that bored straight into Mingo, without backing down.
Mingo quickly grabbed the man's vest, and said quietly, «I will take ale in a mug and I will sit at this table with my friends», he stared straight back and added politely, «Please, Sir!"
The next ten seconds were long for the young lieutenant. Daniel held him firmly.
Then the tavern keeper said «Of course, Mingo. I will bring a fresh clean mug to the table. Please sit down and accept my apology. Colonel, are you satisfied?"
McTavish, Daniel and Mingo turned at once toward Colonel Hartford.
He smiled mischievously «Gentlemen, may I introduce my aide-de-camp, Lieutenant James Atwater, who was simply obeying my orders."
Mingo let go of James Atwater, and smiled. «Testing my reaction, I would assume. Did I pass your test, Colonel?»
«With flying colors, Mingo. The man my son knew isn't what I am looking for. I need an Indian, a strong- willed individual, but an Indian first. And willing to do what must be done to fulfill our mission," the colonel didn't apologize.
Daniel let go of McTavish, clapped Mingo on the shoulder and poured him a mug of ale. Daniel waited for the last mug to arrive to pour his own. He sat down and asked Colonel Hartford to explain in detail what was expected of them.
McTavish sat beside Mingo, obviously in awe.
Daniel and Mingo looked at one another and started to laugh.
Their laughter was rich, powerful, full of friendship.
It would not come as easily in the weeks to come.