Daybreak
The Lady Grey was a beautiful ship. She carried a cargo of cloth bound for the markets of Philadelphia. She was not large but was of a size to be comfortable for the passengers and crew. Besides himself Mingo saw that there were two other passengers, a newly married couple sailing from England to start a new life in Virginia. So newly married that they still called each other by the title and last name, Mingo was amused watching them as they began to build their lives together.
Mr. and Mrs. Miller were younger than he was and full of hopeful dreams. When they met just before boarding the Lady Grey Mingo introduced himself using his Cherokee name, thinking that the couple may as well receive a true understanding of their fellow passenger. Now if he could only reconcile his recent experiences with his past inside his own mind and find a measure of quiet within his own soul.
Henry had insisted on unloading his possessions without any help, then impulsively gripped both of young Murray's arms in a gesture of affectionate farewell. For the first and only time the older man held the younger man's eyes. The servant then climbed into the Earl's coach and rode away without any backward glance.
Mingo was surprised to feel a sense of loss as he watched the coach roll away from the Bristol dock. He felt the lump rise in his throat as the full realization of his choices entered his mind. He did not regret refusing his marriage to Guinevere Alford. He did not regret denying his father's title. He would not ever miss the life he could have lived as a titled Englishman. But he did miss Calvin Cushing and the comradeship of his few friends at Oxford.
And, he admitted somewhat reluctantly, he did miss his father. Or rather, the father that Lord Dunsmore should have been. The familiar longing for a father could cripple him if he dwelled on the loss. Standing on the dock before the ship that would take him back to his homeland, he decided that he would not allow himself to be crippled. Raising his dark head proudly, he gripped two of his bags in his hands and prepared to board the clipper. That was when he met the Millers.
The voice that hailed him was pleasantly pitched. He turned and saw the young couple moving toward him. The young man was nearly a head shorter than he was and slight. His honey-colored hair waved around his ears and over his high brow. His wife was only a few inches shorter than her husband with the same honey-colored hair. But instead of blue eyes like his hers were a honey-colored brown. Both of them wore an expression that relayed excitement tinged with uncertainty.
Mingo extended his hand and introduced himself. Both sets of eyes widened as they contemplated their journey in the company of a Cherokee from the wild lands of America. But Mingo was so gracious and he made his voice so warm that their unease quickly vanished and the three of them walked up the gangplank and began their new friendship.
The clipper bobbed gracefully over the slight swells. The cool fresh wind washed over Mingo's tall body and cleansed away the feel and smell of London. Unfortunately, the memories of the first crossing remained painfully clear. Not ready to deal with them, he pushed them back into the far recesses of his mind.
The motion of the ship caused him to sway on the balls of his feet as he grasped the rigging in both hands. He enjoyed watching the sailors at their duties. The men worked together to keep the beautiful ship balanced on the sea. This crossing would be spent on the deck for hours at a time instead of hidden deep inside the ship's wooden hull. His pale brown skin would soon take on the hue of burnished leather in the sun and wind. Snatches of the Iliad and the Odyssey came into his mind and he amused himself reciting remembered passages. The sailors shook their heads and grinned at their unusual black-haired passenger.
The first few days out were choppy and all three passengers were seasick. Mingo attacked the problem by staying on deck as much as possible in the clean air, holding onto the railing when the nausea washed over him. The sailors told him that if he watched the horizon instead of the ship or the sea, the sickness would ease faster and he found them to be correct. The Millers stayed in their small cabin with basins held in their laps.
After a week the sea quieted and Mingo convinced the man and wife to accompany him topside. He told them to watch the horizon or the sky, and they began to lose their severe nausea. Twice Mrs. Miller had to rush to the side, but Mr. Miller endured the day without once emptying his stomach over the side. After he helped his wife to their cabin and laid her down, Mr. Miller returned topside to begin to get to know his fellow passenger better.
Mingo was standing beside the sailor at the wheel, asking questions about their course and the devices used to plot it. When he saw the other young man exit the hatchway he stepped down and walked to meet him, easily balancing his tall frame against the pitching of the sea.
"May I ask your first name? It seems a bit too formal to continue calling you Mister. Unless, of course, that is your desire?" Mingo asked diplomatically.
The blonde man smiled. "My name is Walter. My wife is Nancy. We are from the farming area near York. And you?"
As soon as he asked Walter Miller blushed from his blunder. He remembered that the man had already told them that he was a Cherokee from the colonies. Mingo smiled in amusement and answered. "I was born in Kentucky twenty-one years ago this November. I have just finished my education at Oxford. My father is English. I am returning to my homeland."
Walter looked puzzled. The tall man before him must have been a son of wealth. Mingo surmised that he was trying to understand how anyone would purposely give up a life of ease in London for the harsh life in colonial America. Before Walter could ask questions that he did not feel ready to answer, Mingo continued to question Walter.
"You and Nancy haven't been married long? Do you have relatives or friends in the colonies?"
Mingo had chosen well. A torrent of words poured from Walter as he told Mingo about his family, Nancy's family, and their dream of starting an inn near Williamsburg. With just a little prompting Walter told about the farm he had left, the town of York, and the entire history of his part of England. Unwisely he told Mingo about the stash of money he and Nancy guarded.
Mingo quickly placed his long forefinger over his own lips in a gesture of warning. Walter Miller blushed at his mistake and looked around to see who had overheard his statement. Mingo shook his head negatively and the younger man relaxed. He sighed deeply.
"I'm not very world-wise, as you can see." Walter looked deeply into Mingo's eyes and Mingo could see him weighing his fellow passenger's character. Mingo allowed the searching. Within a few seconds Walter blinked and sighed again.
"Your secret is safe with me. But you must be much more on guard or you and Nancy will arrive in the colonies without your savings, or you will be robbed soon after your arrival. It is best not to trust anyone until you know them well. And I do mean well." Mingo's experiences gave his words an additional bite and Walter looked at his new friend questioningly.
Mingo dropped his eyes and rose to stand fully exposed to the sea wind, grasping the nearby rigging. His mind was whirling and he needed time to quiet himself. Walter continued to sit and watch the horizon, now beginning to gain a rosy glow as the sun began its final descent into the west.
Nancy stayed on deck with them almost the whole next day. Mingo discovered that Walter had little education and volunteered to tutor him in the classics. Walter agreed heartily and was an apt pupil, obviously enjoying the world opening before him.
Mingo chose to begin with Cervantes' story about the adventures of Don Quixote because of the action and because of the underlying messages. Nancy sat close beside Walter sewing a skirt for herself. The sea air brought color to all their faces and their companionship warmed their hearts. Though only two years apart, the three had vastly different life experiences. But their close association brought easy friendship. The crew enjoyed listening to Mingo's instruction and Walter's hesitant reading. It was a happy ship, the Lady Grey.
By the next week Walter and Nancy were trying to induce Mingo to stay in Williamsburg and be a partner in their inn. Though Mingo had no desire to be an innkeeper and kept reminding the two of his plans to travel inland, they mentioned their hopes that Mingo would join them at least twice a day. Twice a day he smilingly refused.
He had purchased a small chess set from a shop near the dock before he sailed and he taught both Walter and Nancy how to play. Several of the crew also asked to be taught. The captain already knew how to play and challenged Mingo to a game one evening after the meal.
The two men were well matched and the game continued for several hours. The captain had a mathematical mind and Mingo lost the game. He laughed good-naturedly and rose to retire to his own small cabin. The captain offered a snifter of brandy, extending the glass with the full expectation that Mingo would accept. Reluctantly he did. The captain gestured to a well-proportioned chair and Mingo sat down cautiously. He was suddenly suspicious of the captain's motives. The captain correctly read his expression and sat before his passenger in total silence. After several minutes he spoke.
"You are the son of Lord Dunsmore, correct?" The captain's question was completely unexpected. Mingo knew that he did not resemble the Earl in any way and he could not understand how the captain could have guessed. He looked at the older man several seconds before replying.
"That seems an odd question. I am Mingo, an American Indian. Why do you suppose that I have English blood?"
The captain nodded. "You are right to be suspicious. Never let your guard down, son. The world is a dangerous place. I know who you are because Lord Dunsmore told me. He knew of your plan to sail for the colonies and asked the booking agent to put you on my ship. He and I have known each other for years. He wanted you to be safe."
Mingo digested the information in silence. There were two possible reasons for Lord Dunsmore's interference. One, he couldn't stop himself from manipulating one last event in his son's life. Or two, the man cared for his son's safety and knew Edmund would not take his advice. In his secret heart Mingo hoped that it was the second reason, but his mind admitted that it was probably the first.
"I also have a substantial amount of money to be placed in the Philadelphia bank where the Earl maintains an account. It is to be entered in your name. He asked me to inform you that it is to be used for whatever you see fit. A predetermined amount will be deposited each year for your use. You may leave it there, take it with you to Kentucky, spend every penny or give it away. He wants you to have it as your right. Do you understand?"
Mingo clenched his teeth to keep himself under control. It was plainly a bribe, meant to remind him of what he had given away by refusing the title. He sat silently with bowed head.
The captain, several years older, understood the young man's reluctance to bind himself to his father. Captain Dary had known Lord Dunsmore for years, ever since the young John Murray had crossed to the colonies more than twenty years ago. The Earl was a man of great self-control, ambitious and determined.
The son was nothing like the father, and for this the captain was grateful. He liked the young Cherokee very much, seeing in the young man a generous and honorable nature. He finished his brandy and rose, indicating that it was time for his guest to retire. Mingo copied his host and walked to the door. He turned and thanked the captain for the game, opened the door and was gone into the starry night.
In his own cabin Mingo sat in the darkness for several hours, wrestling with his emotions. He was variously angry, embarrassed, puzzled, and tempted. The money could go a long way in helping Walter and Nancy buy and run their inn in Williamsburg. But if he took the money, or any portion of it, it seemed to him that he was admitting to his father that the money was of value to him.
He was also concerned that somehow his father would use that knowledge to attempt to manipulate him back to London and the title. So as the beautiful sea night deepened toward the new day, Mingo argued with his absent father as he had done in reality for the past ten years. It seemed that some habits were very hard to break.
The next day a severe storm boomed overhead and the three passengers sat together below decks, clutching anything that wasn't shifting as the ship thrashed through the sea. Nancy Miller was very pale and she kept swallowing to try and prevent herself from vomiting. The two men were little better.
All three had basins balanced on their laps in the event that they lost their battle with their stomachs. Finally Mingo decided that the cold stormy air would help his churning stomach and he rose to climb the ladder. The ship pitched and flung him against the rungs, bruising his shoulder and upper arm. He caught the ladder and pulled himself on deck.
All hands were engaged in battling the storm. They shortened sails and the captain himself had the wheel. Mingo slipped over the wet deck to the stairs that led to the wheel. He carefully climbed them to stand behind the captain facing the storm. The wild seas and fierce wind excited the young Indian and his eyes sparkled. He rocked with the ship as the Lady Grey rode the waves. Captain Dary's hands gripped the wheel so tightly that his knuckles shone white in the diminished light.
The clouds were dark grey with a greenish hue and lightning forked continuously through their billowing mass. The charged air produced a glow of St. Elmo's fire around the masts, and Mingo gazed fascinated. He had read of the phenomenon but had never before seen it. The roar of the sea and the roar of the storm made it difficult to hear anything else, so Mingo remained quiet as the captain struggled to make himself heard over the storm. His shouted orders were relayed by the first mate to the crew, and they obeyed instantly.
The electrically charged air made Mingo's abundant hair fluff around his head as the wind blew the black locks. The sea spray stung his eyes and face but the entire experience was strangely exhilarating. Mingo was no stranger to storms, but he had never before experienced one that could claim his life. During his early childhood in Kentucky he had lived through one or more hail storms a year and several blizzards.
But this storm on the open sea was a killer and he knew it. He was a good swimmer but understood that being flung into the sea during such a violent storm would be disastrous. As he stood behind the captain he became aware that between shouted orders the man was alternately speaking encouraging words to his ship and asking protection from God. Frowning, the reluctant Anglican listened to the man's voice as he prayed to his God.
There was no hint of bargaining that Mingo had often heard from his schoolmates, especially before exams. There was no whining, no begging. He turned his head to better hear the snatches of prayer. The captain spoke as one man spoke to another, with respect and trust. Mingo had never heard anyone pray like this. The Bible contained many examples of men praying to God, but he himself had never heard a living man pray in the same manner.
As the storm whistled around him the young Cherokee warehoused the experience to ponder it later. He continued to stand behind the captain on the bridge of the Lady Grey until the clipper pulled free of the storm's greatest violence and entered calmer waters. Then he nodded to his exhausted captain and descended the stairs to the deck where the equally exhausted crew also nodded as he passed.
He found both Walter and Nancy retching into their basins and convinced them to at least hold onto the ladder to breathe fresh air. The smell of vomit in the close confines below deck caused Mingo's stomach to lurch and he pulled Walter to stand beside him at the base of the ladder. Once Walter stood steadily Mingo released his hold on the younger man and reached for Nancy. He pulled her up and supported her until she too was able to stand clutching the ladder. Then he walked into his own small cabin and shut the door. He needed to examine his experiences over the last few hours, alone.
The remainder of the passage was filled with gentler experiences. The three passengers joined the crew to watch dolphins flash through the ship's wake. Clouds formed fantastic shapes and the three friends spent hours fancifully assigning stories to their formations. They experienced two more storms but neither was as violent as the first. The crew visited with the three friendly young people and they each learned from the other.
Mingo continued with his lessons and both Walter and Nancy expanded their knowledge. They in turn explained their ideas for their inn and he made suggestions as he remembered the various inns that he knew. The young married couple listened carefully and when they were alone together incorporated Mingo's ideas into their own.
The Millers struggled to find a name for their inn. Nancy favored The White Dove but Walter argued that the name was too gentle. He favored The Wild Boar but Nancy complained that the name was too rough for the kind of establishment that she wanted. Finally they enlisted Mingo's help to break the impasse. He listened to their positions and then suggested The Amity House. Both Nancy and Walter liked the sound but puzzled over the name. When Mingo smiled and explained that "amity" meant peaceful relations and friendship the two looked at each other and nodded. It was perfect.
Once again the young couple tried to convince Mingo to join their enterprise. Again he politely refused. Each day as the Lady Grey slid closer to the North American continent Mingo's anticipated homecoming occupied more of his thoughts. His careful nature had his expedition already planned.
He would land in Philadelphia in late summer and travel as far south into Virginia as possible before the winter snow. He would stay the winter in the Virginia colony and then travel over the mountains as soon as the snow melted, arriving back in Kentucky by the next summer. He could offer his services to various shopkeepers and businessmen in exchange for lodging and food. He had decided not to touch the money his father offered, concluding that it was indeed a bribe. He was on his own and he would take care of himself.
The Lady Grey neared the American continent in late July.Her passage had been swift. A few nights before she would dock in Philadelphia Captain Dary again invited the son of Lord Dunsmore into his cabin. The captain also invited the Millers for the evening meal. The four people enjoyed a good meal and each other's company for several hours. Then the Millers thanked the captain for the delicious meal and the safe passage and excused themselves.
Mingo rose to follow them but the captain held out his hand in a gesture of delay. Mingo sat in the comfortable chair, crossed his long legs and waited. Captain Dary brought two snifters of brandy, handing one to his guest and keeping one in his hand as he sat down opposite Mingo.
"The Millers are fine young people. I have a good feeling about them. I think that they are building a good life together. And what, may I ask, are your plans young Murray?"
Mingo sipped the brandy and considered his answer. Though he liked and trusted Captain Dary he remained reluctant to discuss his plans. When he raised his eyes to the captain's he found the older man gazing at him fondly from across the floor. The older man's obvious affection startled the young Cherokee and he blushed before he could control himself. The captain saw the quick deepening of color and smiled.
"I am not the Earl's agent, Edmund. I have no prearranged report to send to your father. He only asked that I report your safe passage. And I will do that for him, even if you object. What is between you and your father is none of my business, nor do I wish it to be."
"Would you carry a letter back to him from me, if I asked?"
"With pleasure. I am glad that you offer this. He is not a bad man, son. He has always been conflicted about his decision to leave the colony of Virginia when you were a boy. Duty is a driving force for your father." The captain noticed the scowl on the young man's face and understood the reason.
"I know that I don't have to tell you that. You must have had plenty of evidence during your stay in his house. But Lord Dunsmore is not heartless. Not really. He is a product of his birth, his position, and his own nature. He is not sensitive to anyone other than himself, either by nature or by choice. I never could decide which it was. It is not my place to judge. Not you, and not him."
"I do want to make an offer to you, however. I make at least one passage a year, and I always come into Philadelphia. If at any time you need my help, in any way for anything, I want you to ask. I am very fond of you, Edmund. I respect you, I honor you, and I care about you. And someday there may come a time that you need me. Will you accept my offer?"
Captain Dary's blue eyes looked full into Mingo's. The young man's suntanned face wore an expression of doubt. The captain remained silent and allowed his young guest to sort out his thoughts and emotions. After several seconds passed without any comment from Mingo the captain rose and spoke.
"Give me your answer before we dock. We should be in Philadelphia by day after tomorrow. Now it is late, and I must make a final inspection of the Lady before I retire. Please excuse me, and good night."
The captain finished his brandy and set the glass on the polished dining table. He donned his hat then walked silently through the cabin door. Mingo continued to sit silently in the comfortable cabin, deep in thought. Then he too rose, set down his glass, and walked through the door to his own cabin where he spent most of the night in thought. As dawn neared he began his letter to his father. The sun brightened the small room with light before he finished and lay on his narrow bunk for a few hours of sleep.
The Lady Grey docked mid-morning July 29th, 1766. The colony of Pennsylvania was prosperous and grateful for the end of the French and Indian War. Philadelphia was the largest city in the American colonies and Mingo stood in awe after he walked down the Lady's gangplank and onto the dock. The few memories that he had of his departure years before were painful and he did not allow them to fully form in his mind before he pushed them back down into the deep recesses of his soul.
He gave Captain Dary the letter to his father. Warmly he expressed his appreciation and acceptance of the captain's generous offer made two evenings previously. There was a feeling of security in knowing that Captain Dary would be available if for any reason Mingo needed help or advice. Before walking off the ship Mingo grasped the captain's hand in affectionate farewell and was surprised when the older man pulled him into a quick embrace. All the sailors stood at the rail and waved as he stepped off the Lady. He had been a favorite with everyone aboard and to a man they wished him all good things.
Beside him Walter and Nancy Miller stood with their hands clasped as they gazed at the beautiful city. The dock hands were piling the three passengers' belongings nearby, and the three friends slowly became aware of that fact and began to recover from their initial reaction to the City of Brotherly Love. The three friends had decided before leaving the ship that they would lodge together for at least the first few days until they got their bearings and decided how to proceed with their respective journeys.
While Mingo guarded their belongings the young couple investigated the various nearby inns and reserved two rooms at the one they felt was most promising. They returned and engaged a wagon to transport their belongings and Mingo's to their lodgings, unpacked and excitedly asked their friend if he would like to share a walk with them to investigate the city.
So in the late afternoon the three friends set off to explore. They watched the ships in the harbor and the activity around them. They strolled through the nearby market, and Walter purchased a paper cone of roasted almonds coated with sugar which the three shared as they walked. An unfamiliar sound drew the three to a large building near the docks. There freight was being loaded on wagons to be taken to various points throughout the city and the colonies.
The unusual sound they heard was a bullwhip being cracked to maneuver the harnessed mules and oxen. Fascinated, the three friends watched the teamsters as they snapped the whips over, around and behind their teams. Mingo at once understood the value of the whip as a weapon and decided to find a way to induce a teamster to teach him. Boldly he walked to the nearest man and asked. The burly man dismissed the dark youth without a glance.
Rebuffed but not dismayed, Mingo continued asking until a middle-aged man with bright red hair agreed to show him the basics. He beckoned the young man out of the building to an open area near the docks. There he set up several empty bottles that were scattered around and showed the youth how to position the whip and flip it with the wrist to make it hit a target. Mingo stood fascinated. The Millers quickly lost interest and informed Mingo of their intention to continue their walk. Mingo nodded absently and watched the teamster knock each bottle off its perch with the bullwhip. After several minutes he asked if he could try.
The teamster grinned and gave the young man his whip. Mingo carefully laid the whip out along the ground as he had been shown. The teamster backed away several yards. With a quick flip of his wrist the young Cherokee brought the whip whistling off the ground. The slender tasseled end caught him behind the right ear and opened an inch-long gash on his neck. With a quick exclamation of surprise and pain Mingo dropped the whip.
The teamster laughingly showed his pupil his mistake and bade him try again. As the blood ran down the side of his neck Mingo tried again, and this time the whip whistled through the air and cracked near one of the targets. Eyebrows raised in happy amazement, Mingo turned to the teamster and grinned.
Shaking his head, the red-haired man walked to his wagon, reached into it, and pulled out a duplicate whip. He placed the new whip in Mingo's hand and took his own. After explaining how to keep the leather supple, the teamster turned to take possession of his wagonload of supplies. At that point Mingo realized that the whip in his hand was now his. He quickly strode to the teamster's side.
"What do I owe you for this whip?" he asked, reaching into his pocket.
The teamster turned and looked up into the dark eyes above him. He smiled.
"Son, I've never seen anyone crack a whip on the second try. You are gifted. You owe me nothing. You've already paid me by giving me a story to entertain my fellow teamsters for years to come. Take the whip with my blessing." He turned to his team, then stopped and returned to Mingo's side. "And son, always remember that this whip is a weapon, no less than a pistol or knife. Respect it as such."
Mingo stood still amid all the activity around him. He realized the potential of the gift that had just been given to him. Carefully he coiled the whip in his hands, then saluted the teamster as the man walked out of the building with his wagon and into the nearby alley. The teamster saluted in return and was gone.
A week later the Millers with Mingo as companion left the thriving city traveling south. Walter and Nancy had convinced Mingo that there was no reason that he should not accompany them on their trip to Williamsburg. They had not abandoned the idea of making Mingo their partner, though the young Cherokee continued to deny any desire to join them.
The summer days were hot and very steamy, making both animals and people uncomfortable. Though all three dunked themselves daily in the abundant streams and rivers, they remained damp and sticky day after day. Clouds of insects constantly surrounded them, the incessant buzzing creating frayed nerves so that by day's end all anyone wanted was to sleep.
The Millers slept in the wagon bed with a blanket stretched over the wagon sides to try and dissuade the mosquitoes. Mingo slept beneath the wagon on the ground. All night he could hear the mules swishing their tails and flipping their manes to try and dispel the clouds of insects attacking their tender noses, eyes, and ears. He couldn't help but contrast his present surroundings with those he had left behind in London.
Too sticky hot to sleep, the young Cherokee lay remembering what he successfully pushed from his mind during the busy times of the day. People, events and the connected emotions pressed forward in his mind until they could not be denied. He resolved none of them, and their continued presence wore on his mind until his temper snapped. He would rise and walk alone in the still summer nights until he was exhausted and could sleep a few short hours before the sun brought a new day's trials. His fellow travelers noticed his distress but did not understand the reason. Neither they nor he had the maturity or experience to know how to broach the subject so the distress remained. The relationship was beginning to suffer.
Finally Mingo's foul temper exploded through his careful restraints. The mules stubbornly pulled the wagon into a deep mud hole that the men had tried to guide them around. Nancy, slapping mosquitoes and dripping sweat, berated them for their carelessness. Walter, also dripping sweat and itching from a dozen mosquito bites himself, snapped back. The words stung more than he intended and Nancy began to cry. Standing up to his ankles in the mud hole Mingo was an irritated witness. He attempted to correct Walter for his treatment of his wife and the young Englishman angrily turned on his friend.
"You keep out of this! I don't need you tellin' me how to talk to my own wife."
"She doesn't belong to you, Walter. She's not your property."
"What did you say?"
"She is your wife; you don't own her."
The two young men squared off, facing each other in the hot sunlight with the sweat running down both of their engorged faces. Nancy stood in the shade nearby, continuing to cry quietly from heat, emotional distress and her two-month pregnancy.
Walter stared at the tall dark man before him. A suspicious look grew in his blue eyes and before his mind could assess his conclusion blurted out, "Do you own her then?"
Mingo's right fist dropped Walter where he stood. Nancy shrieked and ran to her husband lying bleeding in the Virginia mud. He sat up and glared at the Cherokee who stood over him, both hands balled into fists and his eyes on fire. The three tired young people glowered at each other in the hot sunlight. Mosquitoes buzzed around their faces, the hum further irritating their nerves.
Walter struggled to stand and pushed Nancy aside. He squared his shoulders and balled his fists. Mingo circled cautiously, all his training evident in his stance. His reach was several inches longer than Walter's, and when Walter's punch fell short Mingo lashed out and dropped his friend once again. At that point Nancy also dropped to the ground in a faint brought on by the heat, her condition and the violence she was helplessly witnessing.
Mingo rushed to her side and picked her up. He carried her to the deep shade of the nearby trees and laid her gently on the ground. Not knowing what to do, he stood and stared at her limp body. Behind him he could hear Walter struggling to rise. Several seconds passed until Walter knelt by his unconscious wife and bid Mingo bring the water bucket to him. Reaching his hand into the bucket Walter threw a handful of water into Nancy's face. She moaned and retched. Walter quickly turned her onto her side as her stomach emptied.
Mingo stood watching for several more seconds, then turned and pulled the mules from the mud and into the shade beside Nancy. He sat on the side of the wagon opposite from the Millers, understanding that they would want privacy. He could hear Nancy's voice whimpering and Walter's voice soothing her. Water splashed as Walter washed the blood from his sweaty face.
Mingo reached into the wagon and pulled out the gun he had purchased in Philadelphia. He pushed his way into the timber and disappeared. When he returned several hours later the Miller's were asleep before the fire. They had discovered that damp wood makes a thick smoke that discouraged insects. Mingo, remembering his Cherokee boyhood, quickly plucked and cleaned the small turkey that he had shot and spitted it to roast. He stirred the fire and added more seasoned wood to cook the meat.
He rubbed salt into the carcass and carefully placed it to roast. After an hour the fragrance wakened the Millers. They both sat up and saw Mingo sitting in the darkness several feet away from them. They looked at each other, then Walter rose and approached the brooding Cherokee.
"I was wrong to say what I did. I apologize. I know there is absolutely no reason to think that either you or Nancy has behaved wrong in any way. I'm sorry. Will you accept my apology?" Walter held out his right hand.
Mingo continued to sit where he was. His feelings had been terribly hurt by Walter's angry words and he was having difficulty accepting the apology. His own behavior that escalated the episode was a further embarrassment. Finally he glanced up into Walter's sincere face. He could see Nancy watching anxiously. Slowly he stood and took Walter's hand. The two young men stood for several seconds, then Walter smiled and released Mingo's hand. Nancy smiled too.
Walter glanced at his wife again. She nodded and he turned back to face Mingo. "Mingo, Nancy and I are expecting a child next spring. She told me while you were gone. That's why she's been so touchy. We're sorry for any upset we've caused you. We want to name the baby after you if it's a boy. Is that alright?"
Mingo's head jerked and he looked at his friends in complete surprise. "You would name your son Caramingo?"
Walter looked puzzled, then his face relaxed into a smile as he understood. "No, Mingo! Your English name. Edmund. Is that alright?"
Mingo blushed with his mistake, but the heavy darkness hid the red flush that covered his dark cheeks. Someone wanted to name a child after him. The honor was overwhelming. And of course they meant his English name--they were English! He understood that they meant no judgment about his parentage. A slow pleased smile began to spread across his handsome face. The Millers saw the smile and relaxed. The strain between them vanished so they sat and shared a midnight meal of wild Virginia turkey flavored with friendship.
The three found the perfect place for an inn as they approached the bustling town of Williamsburg. As they traveled south a crossroads branched, one road going on to Williamsburg and the other to the community of Yorktown. An inn situated at this crossroads was sure to do a brisk business.
Leaving Nancy and Mingo to construct their camp Walter unhitched the mules and mounted one for the few miles into Williamsburg to investigate the possibility of buying the property. The miserable summer heat was beginning to abate as September began. The two friends had a comfortable camp ready when Walter returned.
Nancy anxiously searched his face for clues. But Walter was silent as he fed and watered his mule. Nancy's eyes sought Mingo's and they both shrugged. Glancing at her husband every few seconds, Nancy stirred the pot over the fire. Mingo finished placing a tarp against the side of the wagon as a shelter from the probable rain that appeared to be brewing above them in the gathering grey clouds. He spread their blankets carefully and stood as Walter came to the fire.
"Well, the piece is owned by a family. Their father was one of several brothers who inherited the land from their father. Apparently the family has been here almost since the beginning of the town. I spoke to the eldest brother, who appears to be quite old. They may agree to sell it to us." Here Walter's carefully bland face split into a wide smile. Nancy squealed and hugged his waist. Mingo smiled at their excitement.
"He said that I should check back after noon tomorrow. So, wife, let's eat and then prepare for sleep. I want to really look the land over tomorrow before I see him. Smells good. I'm hungry!" Walter took a wooden bowl and dipped a fair amount of stew for himself. He sat down and spooned the stew into his mouth. Mingo copied him and did likewise. Nancy more daintily ladled her stew into her bowl and joined the two men. The three friends retired early as the early autumn rain began to fall.
The following afternoon Walter raced back to his wife and friend with the good news. The family would sell a piece of land measuring five acres square just south of the crossroads. After Nancy stopped squealing and Walter stopped waltzing her around the campsite, the three young people measured out an approximation of the five acres and situated the inn and stable to take advantage of the site.
In their minds they could see the white clapboard rising, the shingled roof against the sky. They planned for seven rooms, one for themselves and six to let with a large taproom in the center and the rooms on three sides. Their room would be the largest and in the center, making the other six that flanked theirs equal in size.
The following day Mingo went with Walter and Nancy to sign the papers transferring ownership of the land. The land was expensive, taking most of what they had saved. They had little left with which to build their inn. But there was thick timber on all sides and Mingo convinced them that they could still build according to their design using logs instead of clapboard. The three decided to construct the main room and the three rooms behind it first. Then they could add on as time and money allowed.
They rose the next day and paced out the dimensions of the building. Mingo and Walter worked side by side chopping the trees necessary to build the cabin. Neither young man had any experience in chopping trees, but they were helped by a traveler who stopped to noon with them on his way to Yorktown.
He showed the two young men how to fell the trees and notch them to make the logs fit on top of each other. By nightfall the two had managed to chop down two trees, trim the branches and notch them. They were so tired that they didn't eat much and fell into their blankets just as the moon rose over the trees.
The next morning Nancy spread bacon fat on their raw, blistered hands and bound them tightly with strips of cloth. They were both so sore that they could barely move. The farmer's son was familiar with soreness and hard physical work so his body soon limbered. Not so the body of the Earl's son. His years of ease had softened his body and hands until he was in a fair amount of pain. He gritted his teeth and refused to give in.
Day after day the two young men chopped trees. They used the mules to drag them to the site and then realized that they had piled the logs exactly where they needed to dig the foundation and had to spend a day moving them. Nancy laughed at their mistake and baked them corncakes for supper. Her good nature pleased both of the tired young men as every evening she tended to their blisters and small wounds. She washed their sweaty shirts and kept water warm for a quick sluicing whenever they wanted to rinse their sweaty bodies.
By the end of September the main room had been raised and the three smaller rooms were attached to the south. The men cut doorways into the rooms and placed one window in the two end rooms and two in the center room which would be the Miller's. The nights were cool now and the two men rushed to chink the logs before cold winds could start to blow.
Two neighboring farmers and their teenaged sons helped them for two days in exchange for use of the two mules during their harvest. The roof was shingled with shake shingles and the fireplaces for the center room and the taproom completed before the first really cold rain fell. The large privy pit had been dug and the little house completed over it.
The three happy people moved all their belongings into the two completed rooms and sat on the floor gratefully as the rain drummed on their newly finished roof. They ate their first meal inside together before the large stone fireplace at the front of the room. The meals for the travelers would be cooked there and the guests would be seated around tables scattered throughout the large room.
Nancy snuggled under Walter's arm and sighed contentedly. Mingo watched heir faces in the firelight. He felt great affection for his two friends and pride in the help that he had been able to give to them. They smiled at him in the glowing light.
"Mingo, we couldn't have done this without you. We want you to know that whenever you are visiting nearby, you can stay at The Amity House free of charge for as long as you wish. And if you never come back this way, you can still write to us. We will never forget you. If this child is a girl, our first son will still be named for you. You are part of our hearts forever."
Walter swallowed and Nancy blinked back tears. "You are welcome to stay here through the winter. In fact, we hope that you do. Then you can start from here next spring and continue on to Kentucky with a full stomach and a cool mug of ale!"
Mingo's words were warm with emotion. With a full heart he replied, "Thank you. I accept your offering of a winter home. And I too shall never forget your friendship."
The three friends sat several more minutes as the fire died. Then the Millers rose and bade their friend goodnight. They walked hand and hand into their own center room and left their friend warm before the fire in the big echoing room that he had helped to build.