They held no service. That Sunday, the pastor reached out with words of comfort to his congregation. The one member who needed comforting most sat silent, looking beyond him through the window, watching dark clouds gather.

***DB***

They took Katie Grace home. Daniel built her a bed and put it in the loft next to Israel's. Since he'd found her in the wilderness, she had spoken no more than ten sentences. Katie was almost always beside her aunt holding on to a fold of her skirt or with Israel who watched over protectively. She was reluctant to leave the cabin - even just to stand on the porch. Eventually, after a few weeks, Israel was able to coax her outside, but she always kept the cabin in sight.

Everyone, even Katie Grace, stretched loving arms toward Rebecca, but she never seemed quite able to receive them.

Three weeks after they'd brought Katie home, Mingo had stopped by and had supper with them. They ate together as they had many times before. They sat around the fire talking as they had many times before, and Mingo read to the children from his beloved book of Shakespeare, just as they had many times before, but it was not the same. After they had sent the children to bed, Mingo rose and said, "I should get back." He turned toward Rebecca who was silently putting her kitchen back in order. "Thank you, Rebecca."

"You are welcome Mingo." She smiled at him. "You don't need to run off though. Stay as long as you like." Then turning towards her husband she'd said, "I'm going to turn in."

"Night, darlin'." Daniel said as she disappeared behind the curtain.

They stepped out onto the porch together. The Kentucky night was bright with stars.

"Have you found something?" Daniel asked. "Is that why you came?"

"And here, I thought you might have missed my company." Mingo said with a small grin.

Daniel's face relaxed, and he grinned. "I'm sorry Mingo. We have missed you." They stood together looking out into the darkness. After awhile, Mingo said, "Your house is quiet, Daniel."

"Yes," Daniel sighed glancing to the door. "She's doing alright. She's just . . ." He hesitated at loss for words.

"Broken-hearted." Mingo answered. Daniel nodded.

"I can't seem to help her mend. I know I need to go out and set the trap lines, but I can't bear to leave her, even though my being here seems to bring her little comfort."

"You are a comfort to her, Daniel. As for your trap lines, I think I can be of help there. That is why I am here. I will set them for you."

"Oh, no. That is too much." Daniel protested.

"It will take a few weeks. What else have I to do? I've no family. No real responsibilities. Allow me to do this for you."

"Mingo, it is my responsibility."

"No one would question your sense of responsibility. Last winter, didn't you provide for some of the other families here?"

Daniel sighed, "Some of the families here aren't experienced hunters, I am."

"And now its your turn. Don't be pig-headed. You are needed here, and I am needed nowhere." Mingo could see a storm of argument gathering in Daniel's green eyes. He grabbed hold of his arm and said, "Please, let me do this for her. She's family to me too." Slowly, Daniel nodded.

"But, you've heard nothing?" He asked again.

Mingo sighed. "There was a raid up north. The same. They killed everyone, took nothing, burned the wagons."

"How many killed?"

"Seven. Six men and one woman. No tribe that I know of has claimed them. They've left no clues."

Daniel looked over at Mingo, and the Cherokee was startled to see a look completely unfamiliar to him flash across his blood-brother's face. It was a look of complete and utter rage and hatred. "I'm needed here now." He said fiercely. "But a day will come. I will hunt them down. I will put an end to this.