Chapter 3
It was long after dark when Daniel arrived back at the campsite. Tempest was asleep rolled into her blanket against the rock outcropping. Mingo sat staring into the fire. Daniel touched his shoulder as he passed. Mingo poured a cup of hot coffee for Daniel and handed him the last of the small turkey that he had shot. He'd left Tempest beside the rocks holding his pack to assure herself that he would return. The pathos of the need for reassurance pierced Mingo's sensitive heart.
Daniel had been successful in discrediting the Devaney's story. They had gathered their meager belongings and left Salem, intending to return to the small town in Virginia from which they had come. None in the company regretted their leaving. Though no one remembered seeing Tempest, which was odd, everyone had noticed the Mr. and Mrs. And no one liked them. They were critical of everyone and everything, brutal to their animals and careless about their persons. They argued constantly and loudly.
Mingo was grateful for Daniel's efforts on his behalf and expressed his gratitude warmly. From long association Daniel saw the depth of the emotions in his dark eyes. Daniel smiled his appreciation and yawned. Mingo had readied his blanket and the tall man lay down gratefully. The Cherokee continued to sit before the dying campfire staring into the glowing ash bed.
Sometime later Daniel awoke to a loud wail. He sat up and in the starlight saw Mingo leaning over the child, murmuring. She was grasping his vest with frantic fingers. He took both her hands in his and began to softly sing. Through the damp Kentucky midnight air he could hear the lullaby words. He recognized the song that Mingo had sung for the Beaumarchais troop of actors. "Blue skies, green meadows, quiet, still..." His warm baritone voice was soothing. Daniel closed his eyes, and like Tempest drifted asleep to the sound of his friend's song.
The early morning light roused the three within minutes of each other. The morning routine duplicated yesterday's and within an hour the three were walking toward Salem to start the Boonesborough settlers on the trail to Kentucky. Mingo met with the constable and informed him of the decision to take Tempest to Boonesborough. Carefully Mingo read the constable's statement about the confrontation with the Devaneys and the destruction of Tempest's transferred contract. He signed it, thanked the constable, and saw the document carefully placed in the office safe.
The lead wagon on the trail to Boonesborough contained a man, a woman, and their two little girls ages three and seven. Originally from Virginia, the family traced its heritage back to Wales. The Davies were close knit and volunteered to let Tempest ride in the wagon with their two girls. Mingo convinced Tempest that riding was a good idea and again left his pack in her possession as assurance that he would not leave her.
Walking together in front of the wagons Daniel and Mingo spoke little. Both men were by nature quiet and their close association over the years made nonverbal communication easy. Daniel knew that Mingo was worried about Tempest. A blind girl was limited in her life choices. In a wilderness settlement there were even fewer choices.
A man who felt responsibilities deeply, Mingo often found himself in turmoil. His mind attacked the problem fiercely, requiring nearly all his attention. He walked beside Daniel automatically and was surprised when Daniel raised his arm to halt the procession for the noon meal.
Tempest stayed with the Davies family and ate with the two little girls. Mrs. Davies carefully watched to make sure Tempest stayed safely away from any danger. Mingo watched the family as they interacted with his charge. He sighed in relief when Mrs. Davies took all three girls into the timber. His eyes caught Kyle Davies' eyes and the two men nodded at each other in understanding. Mingo lifted his right hand in salute to the sturdy pioneer.
During the afternoon Mingo discussed his decisions with Daniel. Though Daniel assured Mingo that there was no reason to do so, he felt the need to explain himself to his friend.
"When I was a youth in London, one of my schoolmates came from a family that employed a blind servant girl. This young man made that girl's life miserable." Mingo closed his eyes as the memory intensified. "He would purposely leave obstacles in her path and delighted in making her feel helpless. When he told his meanesses his face would glow with cruelly. His father made plain to the girl that he was doing her a favor by employing her and assured her that no one else would do so. As a result, she was scared to complain about the treatment she endured in that household. I have never forgotten her. And the thought that this child, who has already endured so much, would find herself in a like situation is unconscionable to me."
Daniel saw the pain in his friend's eyes as the memory stung his tender heart. He nodded in understanding. Mingo's taut face relaxed and he released a sigh of relief. The afternoon passed swiftly and the day's journey ended at sundown.
That night Tempest wanted to sleep beside Mingo as usual and the tall Cherokee spread her blanket beside his own. He bade her lie down and assured her that he would sleep beside her, but he wanted to talk to Daniel before he slept. She lay down and was quickly asleep. The two men looked at her there. Daniel turned to his friend and whispered softly," Do you think the Davies' family would take her?"
"I hope so Daniel. If not, at least they are giving her a secure traveling experience, keeping her from danger. It would be much slower if she insisted on walking with us. You know, she really is a very compliant person. I am very fond of her."
"I wouldn't say that too loud. You know that it wouldn't take much for some of these folks to get suspicious of you in spite of what I say."
"I do know that Daniel. And that's really very sad."
"It is. But you and I both know that reality is often sad."
Mingo nodded in the firelight. The two men were quiet for several minutes then Daniel turned to his friend with a question.
"Mingo, I've never asked you this because it's really none of my business. But seein' you with Tempest, it occurs to me that you'd be an especially good father. O' course I already thought that seein' you with Israel and Mima. But this youngun was a stranger and you still gave her everything you had to give. Why haven't you ever married?"
In the silence that followed Daniel feared that he had overstepped a boundary. He had spoken thoughtlessly. He knew that Mingo was a very private man. Mingo's expression was pensive and in the firelight his face seemed sad.
"Mingo, forget that I asked. It's just that you are so good with youngun's that I...well, I was just wonderin' if you didn't miss havin' your own?"
"Yes, Daniel, of course I miss having my own children." Mingo's voice reflected his inner anguish. Daniel secretly cringed with the knowledge that he had provoked the revelation. "And I will answer your question. I imagine that both the communities of Boonesborough and Chota wonder the same thing. No one woman has yet filled all the chambers of my heart. And if one touches my heart, she leaves vacant many rooms in my mind. Or if I find a woman whose mind mirrors my own, I find her heart does not fill the emptiness in mine. No woman that I have found shares my experiences."
"Well, Mingo, I kinda doubt that you're goin' to find a Lady Something or other out here in the backwoods with an Indian mother like you had!"
"You imply that I am too choosy. Should I settle for a woman who satisfies part of my being only? Did you?"
The conversation was becoming more personal than Daniel had foreseen. But having instigated the conversation he felt that he couldn't abandon it now. So he forged ahead into the deep waters.
"No, Mingo, I didn't settle for less than I needed. Becky is stubborn and outspoken at times. She's got a true Irish temper. But she has such an understanding and forgivin' heart that I overlook the other. She's a good wife and mother. She's independent but she has a real gentle, needy side to her too. She needs me, and I need her."
"And she shares your vision of life, Daniel. That is the key. And I have not found that. Maybe I never will. But for me, my wife must share my view of life. She must love me for who I am, not what I could have been or might have been. She must love me, not as the son of Lord Dunsmore or the nephew of the Cherokee chief. Does this make sense at all?"
Daniel nodded his head. Finding someone to accept you for who you are was difficult for anyone. He understood that for Mingo it was going to be nearly impossible. Not only because of his complicated parentage but because of himself. He was a man like none other that Daniel had ever known, a truly unique individual.
"Well, Mingo, it's late and we've still got a long journey ahead of us. Let's get some sleep." Daniel reached out and grasped his friend's arm in affection. Then he rolled in his blanket and fell quickly asleep. Mingo stepped silently to his bed beside Tempest and lay down. In her sleep the girl rolled to lie against his arm. Her warm and steady breathing lulled the lonely man to sleep.
Mingo awoke with the first light of morning and lay quietly allowing his thoughts to coalesce. He knew that his mind was trying to give him important information. As he lay watching the sunlight pinkly touch the tallest trees he thought about his journey over the divide when he first returned from England. How beautiful the land looked to him then. Very different from the hot, humid miles he had walked south from Philadelphia with Walter and Nancy.
Memories of the months with Walter and Nancy filled his mind. Once a year he wrote to them, and once a year they answered. Their inn had grown to two stories and now included a large taproom, a kitchen, a dining room and twelve guest bedrooms. Their family had grown like the inn. Their first son, named after him, was joined by seven brothers and sisters in the fourteen years since Mingo had seen them. He smiled as he lay thinking about them.
He sat up suddenly as the thought flashed through his mind. He was as close to them as to Boonesborough. They were close to the city of Williamsburg. Perhaps they would take Tempest to live with them! That would be the perfect solution. In every letter Nancy implored him to visit. As the minutes passed Mingo came to the decision to take Tempest to Williamsburg. If Nancy and Walter could not take her, then surely he could find an answer in the large bustling Virginia capital.
Beside him the child still slept, curled into a ball with her hands clasped over her head. Even in her sleep she defended herself. The position of her body touched the man's heart and he renewed his determination to do the best for her that he could.
As he watched she wakened and sat up, reaching her hands out to find him. When she touched his body and found him sitting, she smiled and leaned against him. Gently he hugged her, careful not to allow anything that could possibly be construed as inappropriate. He was on his guard now and wanted to do nothing to give an enemy ammunition to wound him. Or her.
Daniel awakened as Mingo stood. He stretched and greeting his two fellow campers, then went to rouse the settlers' camp. Mingo led Tempest to a patch of bushes and left her with instructions as to the position of camp. He stirred the campfire and looked up to find Mrs. Davies beside him. He rose as she spoke,
" Where is Tempest? I'll take her into the woods."
Mingo indicated the direction he had taken the girl and the young woman started off to get her. After several seconds she called to Mingo. His suspicions aroused, he strode quickly to her side. Tempest was not where he had left her. He bent and studied the ground. She had started off at a right angle from the direction he had indicated to her. After only a hundred yards he found her struggling through the bushes. She wore a look of alarm on her little white face as she thrashed through the brush. Mingo spoke her name quietly before he touched her and she turned to him and buried her face in his chest. He could feel her shaking in fear as her arms hugged him tightly. Silently he shook his head, angered at himself for his carelessness. He took the child's hand and brought her back to his camp. Mrs. Davies reached for the girl's hand.
"Tempest, Mrs. Davies is here to ask you to breakfast." Mingo placed the child's hand into the woman's.
"Esther and Elizabeth are waiting to have breakfast with you. You'd like to have breakfast with them, wouldn't you?"
When Tempest remained silent Mingo spoke. "I smell pancakes, Tempest. I can see Esther and Elizabeth waiting for you with their plates all ready. Why don't you go and have breakfast with them?"
When the child consented and walked away with her hand firmly held in Mrs. Davies', Mingo gave the young pioneer woman a grateful smile. Daniel walked back into camp as Tempest was leaving and gave the girl a pat on the back as he passed.
While they ate Mingo explained to Daniel his decision to take Tempest with him to Walter and Nancy Miller. Daniel was frowning long before Mingo finished his explanation. "Mingo, you can't take a blind girl hundreds of miles through the Carolina and Virginia wilderness alone."
"I intend to return to Salem first and buy a mule and supplies. Surely you didn't think that I intended to have her walk? The pace would be so slow that winter would overtake us!"
"It's not only the trek that is concernin' me. It's you bein' alone in the woods with a girl child. Mingo, you know what could happen to you. I know that you do!"
"Daniel, I will ask the constable to either accompany me or send someone that he trusts with me."
Daniel sat silently drinking his coffee as he thought. Mingo was as stubborn as anyone once his mind was made up. And he had to admit that the idea of taking Tempest to Williamsburg was inspired. The town of Williamsburg was clean and prosperous, filled with educated minds and wealthy men. The chance of someone taking in a blind girl was better there than anywhere Daniel could think of with the possible exceptions of Boston or Philadelphia. But his concern for Mingo remained. Somehow there had to be a way to find a woman, or better yet a family, to accompany him.
With that thought in mind Daniel rose and walked purposefully toward the Davies wagon. Mingo sat and watched him go, wondering. In the silence he began to understand Daniel's purpose and rose to follow in the big man's footsteps. As he rounded the wagon to join the conversation that he could hear around the campfire he saw Daniel rise. Mr. Davies rose with him and the three men walked out of hearing distance of Mrs. Davies and the three girls.
"Mr. Boone, I truly am honored that you would consider asking me to take that poor blind child to Williamsburg. But I simply cannot spare the time! Surely you can understand. I have a wife and two small children to care for now, a new home to build and a new community to join. I'm sorry. We will continue to care for her on the trail, but we cannot make her part of our family or go back to Virginia. We just can't." The pioneer turned on his heel and rejoined his family, giving undisputable finality to his answer. Mingo left Daniel with an aggravated glance, took his cup of coffee from the rock where he had set it down, and walked into the trees. Daniel understood that Mingo was angry at his interference and wanted some time alone. He glumly went about preparing their breakfast of cold corn cakes and jerky.
When the wagons were ready to roll Mingo bade Daniel farewell and took Tempest's hand. He asked Daniel to get a message to Menewa explaining his absence and Daniel promised to carry out his request. Mrs. Davies and the two little girls hugged Tempest goodbye, Mingo waved his hand to Daniel, and the travelers parted company.