Chapter 2
After breakfast the next morning Mingo, Daniel and Israel released the horse and began to investigate the animal's degree of training. Looping a soft rope around the horse's nose and head to use as a kind of bridle, Mingo prepared to pull himself onto the animal's back. Daniel stood at the horse's head, holding the rope to steady the horse if need be. Grasping a lock of the horse's mane, the tall Cherokee easily leaped onto the grey back. The horse seemed completely at ease, only shifting his one front foot to distribute the weight more evenly. Daniel released his grip on the rope and Mingo pressed his heels into the horse's ribs to indicate that he wanted a forward motion. With his beautifully formed head held high, the Spanish horse walked forward. After a few steps, Mingo pulled back on the rope with a steady pressure and the animal walked backward. Laying the rope on the animal's neck, Mingo indicated a left turn. The horse performed perfectly. Mingo and Daniel exchanged looks of satisfaction.
Pointing the horse's head toward a level stretch in the direction of the fort, Mingo lightly kicked the animal's flank. Instantly the horse broke into a smooth gallop that quickly ate the ground beneath them. The sensation of flying was very pleasant, and the horse's gait was as smooth as any Mingo had ever experienced. He sat leaned slightly forward as the wind rushed through his long black hair and blew the heavy braids out past his shoulders. A few yards before the fort's gates he pulled the horse to a walk. The sentry on the wall had alerted the stockade to Mingo's headlong flight, and several men streamed out of the gate and grabbed the horse's rope.
"What's wrong?" "Are the Boone's alright?" "Is it an attack?" Nervous voices rose around him from all sides. Mingo raised his hand for quiet. The grey horse stood still under him, large dark eyes wary of the people pressing him on all sides. Before Mingo could answer, one of the settlers a little less wise in the ways of horses brushed against the animal's left back leg. Instantly the horse kicked out with both hind legs, sending the settler flying several yards through the air to hit hard upon the packed earth.
The surrounding men exclaimed in alarm and the Spanish horse reacted to the shout by wheeling and kicking out again. Mingo tried to calm the horse with both voice and touch, but the stallion continued to circle causing the pressing settlers to back away several feet. After many tense seconds the horse relaxed. He stood at the center of a vacant circle, completely ringed by the Boonesborough settlers. Mingo was embarrassed by the situation. He slid off of the horse and firmly grasped the rope. Three men and Cincinnatus were bent over the prone man that the horse had kicked. He lay unmoving on the ground. Several of the other men were eyeing Mingo with anger.
"What do you mean, ridin' into the settlement like that and scaring ever'body? Ain't you got more sense?" Silas Barker was an outspoken man, rough but usually fair. The tension of the situation made his question more sinister than he intended and two men stepped closer to Mingo, their faces red with anger. As they entered the vacant circle, the horse laid his ears back and bared his teeth. Surprised, the two men took a step back. All of the men that had seen the horse's reaction began to talk at once, and the horse lowered his head and pawed the ground nervously. Mingo stroked the animal's neck to settle his agitation.
"Gentlemen, if you will lower your voices the horse will settle down. He is a Spanish war horse, and he is simply reacting to what he perceives is a threat. "
"Where'd you get a Spanish war horse?"
Mingo explained the situation to the ring of men just as he had explained to the Boone family fourteen hours previously. The knot of men exchanged glances, some suspicious, some curious, and some hostile. It was plain to the Cherokee that all the settlers didn't accept his answer. The unconscious man had been carried into the fort and most of the men followed soon after Mingo's explanation was complete. A handful remained looking at the Spanish horse from a safe distance.
"He is a beauty, I'll say that." The blacksmith was usually a quiet man, but over his lifetime he had seen many, many horses. "I've never seen one like him. Where do you suppose he came from?" The small man reached out a practiced hand and stroked the horse's muscled flank.
"I really don't know. But my guess would be from the Spanish lands to the west. How he got this far into Kentucky is a puzzle to me too." Mingo rubbed the horse's muzzle, and the horse responded by laying his nose on Mingo's shoulder. The blacksmith saw the exchange and shook his head.
"Seems to have claimed you, that's for sure. What are you goin' to do with him?"
"I don't know that yet either. I think while I am here I will write out a notice to display on the signboard of Cincinnatus' store. Maybe someone will see it and recognize the animal."
The blacksmith gave the horse a final pat and returned to his shop. Mingo walked to the hitching post in front of Cincinnatus' tavern and slipped the rope through the iron ring. The horse relaxed one hip and closed his eyes. Mingo completed his business in a short time, received welcome information on the man that the horse had kicked, and rode back to the Boone cabin.
When he returned from the fort and told of his experience there, Daniel, Israel and he spent the remainder of the morning grooming the horse. They brushed most of the dirt from his coat, then washed him with a little of Becky's lye soap. They had removed the burrs from his mane and tail and brushed the long hair until it shone. They all agreed that he was a beautiful speciman.
That afternoon Israel sat on the back of the tall horse as Mingo held the lead rope and walked a mile or so away from the cabin. Israel questioned Mingo about Spanish horses, and in the course of their conversation Mingo began to tell Israel the story of Don Quixote. Into his mind flashed the perfect name for the Spanish horse: Rocinante. This was the name that Don Quixote gave his "war horse", though in actuality it was a broken down cart horse. But in the mind of the disillusioned hero Rocinante was a fiery stallion. Since the grey was a true war horse the name seemed to fit, and Mingo was pleased with his choice. Israel became quiet as the story bloomed in his mind, and the mile journey back to the cabin passed quickly.
After supper Mingo walked out to the stable to ponder his options concerning Rocinante. He stood in front of the horse and gently ran both hands down the thick arched neck. The horse's dark eyes closed and he whickered softly with pleasure. Mingo had to admit to himself that he was already very fond of the animal. But his heightened sense of honor made it difficult to think of keeping him. He knew that a horse as spectacular as this one belonged to someone else. The most likely owner was at Ste. Genevieve since there was a Spanish garrison there. He was reluctant to travel there, however, as he and Daniel had been treated unfairly by the commander of the fort. The thought that this magnificent animal may be owned by that pompous, arrogant man made Mingo's heart burn at the injustice. Still, he decided that he should investigate the possibility as it was the honorable thing to do. He laid his head against the horse's muzzle for a brief minute and then stepped through the stable door and into the night.