Chapter 4
June 13, 1777 – Four days before.
"Mingo, there ain't no other way," insisted Daniel, for what seemed like the hundredth time.
"Oh, but there is, Daniel; there is. We will figure it out together, with sharp thinking. And we will most certainly not use this foolhardy plan of yours!" answered the Cherokee sternly. Mingo was disturbed by Daniel's insistence that his way was the only way to go.
"Fine, fine, you want to find a better way, let's look at our options - again, you stubborn Cherokee," insisted Daniel. His tone made it clear he believed his plan was best.
"What would I need to do that would completely, utterly destroy your faith in me, that would make you hunt me, wish for my death? Answer, Mingo. Tell me!" Daniel said impatiently.
Before Mingo could open his mouth, Daniel went on, "I would need to kill Menewa in front of you. I would need to burn your friend Rain Cloud's lodge, while his wife and his two young daughters were sleeping in it - and still you would need to see me do it. I would need to dig the peace tree out, send a militia into Chota, with me leading it, and scalping the children in front of you. Those are the real options you would have for hating me, for destroying our friendship, in your eyes. Ain't I right?"
Still Daniel would not stop and let Mingo speak. "And I can't do these things, now can I? Or would any of this be acceptable for what we want to achieve? You would let me kill your friend's family for the sake of this mission? Would you, Mingo?"
Mingo tried to stop the flow of words. Daniel had never spoken so fast, as if spinning words that way could convince the Cherokee. Mingo was so upset that he had not been able to eat any of the midday meal.
"And now, Mingo, how could it be said that Daniel Boone would sever his bond, his friendship to his Cherokee brother? Give me options, my friend! I am listenin'!"
"You know I'm right. You need to join the renegades and to be accepted as one of them. And I need a reason to hunt you down, all the way to Canada and by hurting 'Mima, and being violent to Becky, in front of everyone, it's the only way, Mingo, the only way. I spoke to both of them. They agreed with my plan, they will help, it's doable, Mingo. You can do it. They can do it." At last Daniel stopped talking, threw the piece of wood on the fire. He hadn't eaten either; the rabbits were burned beyond eating by now.
"I have an idea then, Daniel. What if you send Israel to his friend Joshua for the day? You can hit your wife and your daughter; they can tell everyone in the settlement I did this." countered Mingo.
Daniel breathed slowly. He knew Mingo would be reluctant. He was himself reluctant. "It's the witnesses that will make the difference, Mingo. There will be word of mouth traveling through our wilderness, words that will save your hide, and make the cover safer."
It was hard on the two friends to think of what had to be done. What must be done.
Mingo lifted eyes, burdened beyond belief; Daniel stared at him. They shared a look. They knew then.
They would share the burden, along with their undying trust toward one another.
"I want to speak to Rebecca and to Jemima, privately." said Mingo, at last. He had thrown the charred food into the flame, but he did not move away.
"Of course you can. I'll take Israel with me tomorrow morning to check our snares; you'll have all the time in the world with them." Daniel was back to his normal speech pattern. He was as exhausted as Mingo was burdened.
"They have read Colonel Hartford's letter?" murmured Mingo, quietly.
"No, I thought we would read it together, but I gave them the reasons behind my plan. They know most of it, except for Israel, that is."
"Israel! Israel is going to hate me, and he will never forgive me for this deception!" Mingo said aloud what Daniel had known since he had spoken to his wife and daughter.
"Israel can't be a part of this. He couldn't play his part; he could never play-act hating you as fiercely as he will, by not knowin'." There, Daniel had said it. It would not remain between them.
Mingo shared another long look with Daniel. In silence, they got up and headed toward Daniel's home.
Supper was not a lively affair. Mingo pushed his food around on his plate, Daniel ate only half his own. Jemima barely put any food on hers. Rebecca insisted that things look normal; she kept glaring at both men, who never seemed to catch her message. Israel kept asking aloud what was wrong with Mingo, whose appetite in the household was well known. Mingo smiled a little and Daniel teased, trying to get a retort from the Cherokee. Daniel managed to fool his son, who went to play outside after supper while the two women cleaned up. Israel tried to get Mingo's attention but the Cherokee sat on the porch, looking at the sun setting.
Everyone was relieved when Israel went off to sleep.
Mingo accepted a last cup of tea from Rebecca, watching her intently while she prepared the hot beverage. She was her usual hospitable, friendly self, without a care in the world, now that her family was all around her, safe and sound. Jemima was also very natural and came to wish him good night.
Daniel refused the tea, and left his wife and Mingo at the table together while he went outside, checking his fields, the wood pile and bringing a bucket of fresh water inside. He wondered if they would talk while he was gone; Mingo and Rebecca had a deep affection for each other. But Mingo was very remote since he had heard of Daniel's plan.
Mingo wished them good night; he told Rebecca he would come later in the morning, after Daniel and Israel departed. He would sleep closer to the river, not fifteen minutes away from the cabin; he rarely stayed inside with the Boones.
Once alone, Daniel embraced his wife and kissed her cheek. "Will you be all right, Becky? Mingo doesn't want to go through with it."
"I know, Daniel. He and I will discuss it tomorrow; it'll be fine. I trust Mingo."
"I do too, Becky. With your life and 'Mima's." He couldn't let go of his wife.
June 14, 1777, three days before
Rebecca was mending one of Daniel's shirts. She usually did her mending at night, but she was waiting for Mingo's arrival. Her husband and her son had left the cabin at dawn and the morning's chores were done. There were still many of the daily chores to attend, but Jemima was fidgety and, if she were honest, so was she. Sewing kept her fingers busy. She wondered, for at least the tenth time in the last twenty minutes, what was taking Mingo so long.
"Mima, put some water to boil, will you?" she asked. A cup of tea would do just fine right now.
A timid knock at the door had Jemima changing tasks. "Mingo?" asked the young girl.
"Yes, it is I; may I come in, Jemima?" responded Mingo.
Mingo never entered Daniel's cabin without knocking, but his politeness didn't do much to reduce the women's nervousness.
Jemima smiled at the tall dark-haired man, as he bent his head under the lintel. She couldn't help wondering one more time why no one ever thought to build higher doors during cabin raisings. Between her pa and his friend, there was absolutely no door they could enter standing tall.
"I'm making tea, Mingo; will you have some with Ma and me?"
Mingo nodded and tried to smile back at Daniel's lovely daughter, whom he cherished so much.
He sat on the bench closest to the fireplace. It was a warm summer day, clear sky, with a very cool breeze. Rebecca had the windows open, to allow fresh air inside.
Rebecca put her mending away and sat with him at the end of the table. She wanted to let him have time to form his thoughts. They waited in silence, while Jemima made tea and got a platter of Mingo's favorite cookies. It was much too early for such a treat, but anything to ease the tension would work. Jemima would be as good a hostess as her mother when she reached adulthood.
Jemima sat on the other bench at last, facing Mingo. They waited for Mingo to help himself to his tea; he smiled awkwardly, and taking a cookie said, "Did you make these for me, Rebecca? They're still warm."
Molasses cookies were his favorite. White man's tastes, he called his addiction to coffee and Rebecca's molasses cookies.
Rebecca smiled and took a cookie as well with her tea. Jemima didn't touch her own cup.
At last, Mingo said, "Has Daniel spoken of his plan to you?"
Rebecca nodded and waited.
"He told you why?"
Another nod.
"And you agreed to this?"
A slight hesitation, but another nod. This time, Jemima moved her head with her mother in agreement. Rebecca extended her hand to her daughter; mother and daughter were in this together.
"He .." Mingo had a hard time with what he needed to say, "Did he say that I would hurt you? That I would behave like a 'savage'?"
"Mingo, he has asked, we have agreed. You will hit Jemima and throw her down." Rebecca turned to her daughter.
"I don't fear you, Mingo. I know how important it is. I worry for you, but Pa says it's the only way people will believe the feud between you two. If I can help this way, I will. Pa said this will keep you safe. Hit me real hard, Mingo, and I will take it. I ain't scared of you, and I never could be." She sounded so much like Daniel. She would do her part to help. She suddenly looked like a grown woman who had a duty to perform and who believed in it.
He extended his hand across the table and put it above the joined hands of Rebecca and Jemima.
"Thank you, Jemima, for trusting me so. May I ask your forgiveness in advance for this hurt I will do to you?"
Rebecca understood so much of the pain Mingo felt. Last night, Daniel had held her so tight.
Jemima smiled at Mingo and said « It was my idea to bake you cookies this morning. I don't have to forgive you, Mingo. I always feel safe around you. We'll all do this together. »
Mingo turned to Rebecca, still holding on to the women's hands.
"Rebecca, how can I possibly do what Daniel asked?"
"Because Jemima and I will fix everything, and it will be easier on us both". She took another sip of tea and smiled, trying to give Mingo a better outlook on the events to come.
"First off, I'll wear extra petticoats under my skirts; you'll have to be careful when you lift them that no one notices them, but there won't be anything awkward between us. I'll wear so many clothes, all your hand will touch is cloth. Does this make you feel better?"
Mingo simply listened, his tea was cold, his cookie by the saucer untouched. He was turning grey around the ears.
"I've picked the dress I'll wear; once you rip the cloth away," she pointed to her left shoulder where she felt Mingo should grab her, "the dress will have extra stitching on the inside, tight stitching. It will stop ripping at the point Jemima and I will decide on. There will be more fabric inside so that once you put your hand where no gentleman should, you still won't be touching me. All that will be within your reach, Mingo, will be clothes and more clothes. I'll scream, you'll push me around, you'll throw insults my way, shake me up; Jemima will be hit once, and will lay beside us. She'll grab her shawl to cover my dress as soon as Daniel intervenes. No one will realize how little the rip will be and how covered I'll be. It'll all work in the end. Bruises for Jemima and me. We can handle bruises, Mingo. And you will promise us to protect yourself and to be safe during this mission."
Mingo was stunned, and wondered why he should be. "I can do this now, looking at the courage you both have."
The three hands were still linked together ten minutes later when at last Jemima said, "Can I have my hand back?"
On that note, the three companions who would share pain together, started to laugh.
"Yes, I will let your hand go, if I can have some fresh tea. I should taste your cookies before your brother gets home!"
All would be well, or as well and as bad as events would be. Hell was in store for the three of them, so that Mingo could become the renegade he needed to be.