Esther could hardly believe her luck. She had been left alone with the man that held her husband's life in his hands. As long as the Indian lived, Saul was subject to the law of his tribal vindication. But suspicions would be raised if the native suddenly turned up dead. It had to appear as if it were an act of nature; a sudden infection or wound mortification. Nothing that anyone could have anticipated.

The lady from Philadelphia shook her head with regret. She had spent over an hour talking with the Cherokee friend of the Boone's and she found him to be both interesting and intriguing. She still did not understand how someone with his education and upbringing could return to this country to live among the primitive savages and to accept their equally archaic ways concerning justice. Under different circumstances, he would have made a most engaging acquaintance.

The dark-haired woman smiled to herself. This was too easy, but she knew she had to be careful. A single light dose would not be enough. She needed to have access over several days. It needed to be subtle.

She dipped a cupful of the simmering broth from the pot and poured it into the mug. Reaching into her skirt pocket, she pulled out the small pouch containing a white, powdery substance that she had found in Cincinnatus' store room and then dumped it into the mug. After a quick stir she headed toward the Indian's bedside. Doing as Mrs. Boone had directed, she coerced the native into drinking the mug's entire contents.

…..

Becky had returned to the cabin a couple hours later having reassured her children that their Cherokee friend was doing well and that they would be allowed to return to their home sometime tomorrow. She had thanked Esther for staying with Mingo in her absence and was grateful that she had managed to convince the Cherokee to take nourishment on schedule.

She expected Dan to return soon. He would be tired and hungry after a long day, so she had prepared a hearty meal for him. She also knew that Mingo would have no interest in such a feast, so she poured another cup of broth into the mug.

The Cherokee looked up when he heard Rebecca approach. Shaking his head, he held up his hand as she came close. He was swallowing hard and covering his mouth with the back of his other hand. "Mingo, what's the matter?" she asked, suddenly concerned.

He swallowed a few more times before he could answer. "I think I am going to be ill."

"Oh," Becky gasped, quickly setting down the broth and picking up the wash basin from the bedside table. She held it under his chin as she helped him to sit up.

He continued to struggle to keep his stomach contents where they belonged, tears streaming down his face from the effort.

"Mingo," she said, using her free hand to pull his long hair away from face. "Don't fight it. I find that you often feel better once it's over."

He did fight for a couple more seconds before losing the battle and he violently vomited into the bowl in her hand. It seemed to go on forever, but since he had very little in his stomach, it quickly turned to gagging. Finally, he took a deep, painful breath and brought his head up.

"Do you feel like you're done?" Becky asked softly.

When he nodded, she set the basin in his lap and handed him a towel to wipe his face. "Here, take a sip of water and rinse out your mouth," she said, handing him the cup.

"Why didn't you tell me you were feeling poorly?" she chided.

The native shrugged. "I didn't realize I was. It came upon me quite suddenly."

Becky patted his shoulder gently. "Well, let me take this," she said grabbing the basin. "And I'll get you something to calm your stomach."

When she returned, he was leaning back against the pillows, a sad expression on his face. "Here," she said handing him a couple of mint leaves. "Chew on these. I find they help me when I'm under the weather."

He accepted them from her hand, but did not look up. "What's wrong? Do you still feel sick?"

The Cherokee shook his head. "I have disgraced myself. I am sorry that you had to witness that repulsive response to my nausea," he said quietly. He was obviously very embarrassed.

The redhead laughed. "For goodness sake, Mingo, I'm a mother. I've dealt with all sorts maladies. There is not much that repulses me anymore. You worry too much."

"Now," she said brightly. "Let me check your bandages."

She shook her head as she walked to the kitchen to retrieve the medical supplies. He would be absolutely mortified if he knew that in the midst of the worst of his fevered ramblings that first night, she and Dan had had to change his nightshirt and bed linens after he had wet himself. She wished that he would come to realize that it was not his fault. Sometimes these things just happened to people when they were sick or injured; even English-bred Cherokee warriors.

…..

The new morning started similarly to the previous. Mingo got himself out of bed and came into the main part of the cabin to sit with Daniel next to the fire.

"Feelin' better?" Dan asked. Becky had told him what had happened earlier the previous day. He had also both felt and heard his wife jump out of bed in the middle of the night when the Indian had had a bout of dry heaves.

"I am," Mingo replied. "Sorry, if I woke you."

The woodsman waved off the apology as unnecessary.

"Are you taking Saul out again today?" Mingo asked, regretting that he did not feel well enough to come along.

Dan nodded. "He mentioned that he enjoyed fishin'. Me and Seth Rogers are gonna take him up to Little Bone Creek."

The Cherokee nodded. "A good spot for trout. I envy you, even though right now the thought of fish makes me somewhat queasy."

"I thought you said you were feelin' better?" the frontiersman questioned.

Mingo smiled weakly. "I am. Just not exactly superb."

…..

Becky had arranged for Esther to escort the children back to the cabin when she returned. As exasperated as she sometimes was with Jemima and Israel when they bickered over minuscule matters, she had missed them both terribly.

She heard Israel coming down the path long before she saw him. "Ma!" he shouted when he saw his mother on the porch. She stepped into the yard as he ran to her and she hugged him tightly.

After a moment, the boy pushed her away. "Where's Mingo?"

"In the cabin. Mind his shoulder!" Becky warned as the youngster sprinted in that direction.

The red-haired woman hugged her daughter, and then thanked Esther for accompanying her offspring home.

The older woman smiled. "Happy to do so. I appreciate you tolerating my intrusion into your home while the men are away." She paused. "How is Mingo today?"

A deep frown came across Becky's face and she sighed. "He claims he is alright. He was quite ill yesterday afternoon, however."

"Really?" Esther asked with perceived nonchalance.

As Dan's wife nodded and told her of the previous day's events, the other woman tried to hide her smile. Yesterday's dosage must have been about right. That gave her the confidence she needed to up the ante today. With luck, the Indian would be dead by the end of the week.

…..

"Maybe I can help?" Esther offered.

Rebecca was becoming frustrated with Mingo's refusal to eat. She knew that he had not been altogether truthful about how he felt and empathized that food had no appeal when one felt poorly. She truly understood; she had felt similarly when pregnant with Israel. But she had also forced herself to eat to keep up her strength.

"It can't hurt to try," the frontierswoman said with a sigh.

Esther took the mug of broth and surreptitiously poured in the contents of the small pouch from her pocket.

Mingo was sitting on the bench on the porch, enjoying being outside for the first time in almost three days. "I understand that you are being rather stubborn," Saul's wife stated as she sat next to him.

The Indian warily eyed the mug in her hand. "I am not trying to be so, but at the moment I find the smell of any food revolting."

The woman frowned. "Seems somewhat contrary to what you told me about being a Cherokee warrior."

"What?"

"You said that you were expected to endure all manner of trials, yet you refuse to honor Becky's request," she challenged. "Are you so afraid of embarrassing yourself that you will cause the woman who has tended you distress?"

Mingo flinched. "I did not realize."

"So are you brave enough to risk partaking of this broth that she has taken time to prepare for you?"

The Cherokee hung his head in shame. "Give it here," he sighed."One way or another I will get it down."

Esther smiled. For an educated man, he seemed to be exceptionally gullible.

…..

After Israel's continuous pleas, Mingo had agreed to watch and instruct the boy as he practiced with his bow and arrow. He had a pounding headache and his stomach was in knots; he feared that he would lose its contents at any moment.

"What'd I do wrong?" Israel asked when his arrow completely missed the target.

The Cherokee shook his head; he had not been paying attention. He was shocked to find that his mind had wandered elsewhere. "I must apologize, Israel. I am not as focused as I should be. I…," he suddenly doubled over as a sharp, stabbing pain shot through his abdomen.

"Mingo?" the young boy asked, frightened to see his friend in such agony.

The Indian tried to calm his own nerves for the sake of the child. "Please, go get your mother," he gasped.

The youngster ran for the house as fast as his short legs would carry him.

"Ma!" Israel cried. "Ma! Come quick!"

Becky was busy in the kitchen preparing for the evening meal, but rushed to the door when she heard her son call out. She could tell from his tone that it was more urgent than his usual childish demands.

"Somethin's real wrong with Mingo," the boy cried. He grabbed her hand and dragged her toward their friend.

The frontierswoman was shocked to find the native kneeling on the ground, moaning loudly, his arms wrapped tightly around his waist as he spewed the meager contents of his lunch on the ground. With only a cursory glance, she realized that the situation had suddenly become significantly more serious.

Rebecca grabbed her son by the shoulders. "Israel, I need you to get Jemima and both of you go the fort and stay there, but send Cincinnatus back. And have Mrs. Gorman come help me. Can you do that?"

The boy nodded, tears welling up in his wide eyes. "It's going to be alright. Just do as I ask." the redhead said as calmly as she could, as she gave him a hug.

…..

Following their fishing expedition, Dan, Saul, and Seth Rogers had arrived back at the fort in early evening. They had decided to stop into the tavern for quick ale before heading their separate ways and found Charlie Doyle tending bar instead of Cincinnatus.

Doyle explained that Dan's children had come to the fort a couple of hours ago to fetch the tavern keeper because Mingo had become very ill. The frontiersman and Saul had exchanged worried glances and hurriedly made their way to the Boone cabin.

The sight that Daniel found when he entered his home was unnerving. Mingo lay on the bed, his eyes wide but unfocused. His body was jerking violently with convulsions and occasionally he would cry out in distress.

Cincinnatus caught the woodsman's eye and motioned with his head to follow him to the porch. "I don't know, Dan'l. It just don't make no sense."

Dan sighed, still somewhat in shock. "Is the wound mortifyin'?"

The wiry man shook his head. "No, and that's the strange part. The wounds look good, they're healin' up fine, even his breathin' was better, at least afore all this happened. He's sweatin' like a hound dog in the summer sun, but he's got no fever." He paused. "He's gettin' worse by the hour. I'm not sure he's gonna make it this time."

Saul's wife slipped past them carrying the water bucket. Things were mostly going according to plan. She may have given the Indian a little too much at one time, but he hadn't just dropped dead. The old man was just as perplexed as everyone else as to the cause.

On her way back to the cabin, Esther heard the men mention her husband's name and she stopped out of sight to listen. And what Daniel Boone said shocked her.

Dan rubbed his eyes with his hands. "Cincinnatus, I hate to even think about this, but we have got to have a plan in place in case Mingo dies. I've got to get Saul to Salem as quick as I can so I can protect him and you need to get everyone to the fort. Once the Cherokee find out, they are going to be out for blood. Menewa has already promised that if Mingo did die, Saul was going to pay for it with his life. And he meant it. They'll hunt us down until they kill him."

Esther rounded the corner, her eyes wide with fear. "What did you say?"

"Uh…Mrs. Gorman…I didn't know you were there," the woodsman stammered.

"Well, I was and I heard every word," she said, her voice trembling. "I thought you told my husband that it was Mingo's decision as to what would be the punishment from this so called Cherokee justice? Now you are saying that it is someone else? So you lied?"

Dan raised his hand to calm the woman and try to make her understand the situation. "I didn't lie. That was the case as long as Mingo lived, but it became his chief's decision if he didn't."

"So if that Indian dies," she said pointing to the cabin, "my husband is a dead man?"

"According to the Cherokee," Boone said.

Esther paled. "Oh God…."

"Now, let's not worry about it 'til somethin' happens," he said quietly.

Dan came to her side to put a reassuring hand on her arm, but she jerked away. "No, you don't understand. It was me. I did it. I poisoned the Indian."