Knife Point: Chapter 3
by Tami B.
Disclaimer: The following work has been written solely for the enjoyment of fans and not for monetary profit. The rights to the characters initially created for the Daniel Boone series belong to 20th Century Fox and Fess Parker. All other characters are of the author's own creation. No copyright violation is intended.
“Israel!’ Jemima called. She had searched for her brother for some time and hadn’t found him. If this was one of his jokes: she hoped their mother paddled him good. “Israel!”
“Lose your brother?” a voice said from behind her.
Startled, Jemima turned around to see Mingo. He was wearing a huge grin. “Mingo, I’m glad you’re here.” She came to him and placed her hand on his arm. “Israel and I were playing hide-and-seek, and I can’t find him. I’ve been looking for over an hour. Something may have happened to him. Will you help me find him?”
“Of course,” Mingo said. His voice had grown serious now. “Where was he last seen?”
“This is where I last saw him,” Jemima answered. She extended her arms outward.
“Then we had best begin to look.” And with that, Mingo and Jemima began a search of the area.
When Israel awoke at the bottom of the rocky crevice first thing he noticed was that his head hurt. He brought a hand to it and felt a bump. When he looked at his hand, he saw the blood from his head there. The wound on his chest hurt too. There was also a slight pain in his leg that came from him lying on his marble bag in his pocket. He moved to sit on his posterior and pulled it out. After counting the marbles, he put them back in the bag. All of them were there. He hadn’t lost a one. Then he looked into the western sky. The sun was setting. His next thought sent shivers down his spine. The bad man was after him. He had to get home. He’d be safe there. After coming to his feet, Israel climbed out of the five foot deep crevice and ran towards where he thought home would be. He didn’t notice that he had left behind his marble bag behind.
“Oh, Mingo,” Jemima cried. “It’s getting dark and we still haven’t found him.”
“We will find him.” Mingo said as he bent to look at the tracks on the ground. “We have followed his tracks this far. They will lead us to him.”
“We won’t have to. Look!” Jemima pointed to Israel as he ran towards them. They watched as the boy stumbled, rose to his feet, and began walking wobbly. “Israel! We’re coming.”
Israel snapped his head up when he heard his name called. His initial reaction was to run, but it was a girl who had called him and not the bad man. Just then, an intense pain in his head sent him to his knees and then to unconsciousness. He collapsed to the ground and landed on his side.
After reaching Israel, Mingo knelt beside him and then gently turned him onto his back. He saw a large bump above the boy’s temple with blood all around it. He then looked for other obvious injuries. It wasn’t long before he found blood on his shirt, which he pulled back to reveal the cut on his chest. Jemima joined him just then. She was softly weeping. “We better get him home,” he advised her. Her only reaction was a nod of her head.
Mingo gathered Israel into his arms and began the relatively short journey to the cabin. He moved swiftly but carefully. Jemima followed, sometimes beside him, and sometimes behind.
As Rebecca carved the turkey, she wondered where the children were. They should have been home by now. She figured they had lost all track of time considering the day had been such a nice one. She could lecture them when they arrived, but she opted not to mention it. If she were their age, she would have found it difficult to cut short her good time merely to come home for dinner. They would be home soon. Jemima would see to it.
At the sound of the cabin door opening, she lifted her head to see Mingo enter followed by a visibly upset Jemima. In the Cherokee’s strong arms lay her unconscious son. She felt as if her heart stopped. She dropped the knife and fork, wiped her hands on her apron, and quickly moved to Mingo’s side. “What happened?” she asked, her voice cracking. She ran her hands through Israel’s hair and saw the blood on his head and chest.
“We were playing hide-and-seek,” Jemima explained between sniffles, “and Israel ran off and out of my sight. Mingo and I found him hurt. I don’t know what happened.”
“Mingo, take him to the bed,” Rebecca ordered.
As Mingo moved towards the bed located just outside of Daniel and Rebecca’s bedroom, Jemima began to gather a basin of water and cloths. When she joined her mother, Rebecca had already pulled back the covers, and Mingo had laid his small charge onto the bed. Sitting beside her prone son, Rebecca took the cloth, dipped it into the water, and then began to clean the wound on Israel’s head as Mingo placed an arm around Jemima and pulled her close. He knew the girl was upset and needed comforting, and with her mother busy, he was the next best thing.
Israel moaned softly and opened his eyes. With his vision blurred, he had a hard time making out who he was looking at. He decided he was looking at a woman with red hair and he heard her call his name. He wasn’t sure who she was, but she evidently knew him. His eyes glanced upward and he saw a man. Fear gripped him. Was he the bad man? No, he thought. He wasn’t the bad man. This man was an Indian. The bad man wasn’t. He relaxed. Next to the Indian, he saw a girl. Who was she? Did she belong to the Indian? He then took in his surroundings and couldn’t remember where he was, but it really didn’t matter as long as the bad man wasn’t here. Maybe this was home. If it was, he was safe from the bad man.
“Israel?” Rebecca repeated his name. “Darling, can you tell me where you hurt?” She watched his face intently. He squinted his eyes slightly because his head was hurting. When the pain lessened, he turned his head towards her. She saw his pupils were larger than normal.
The boy began to answer, but then suddenly stopped. The bad man said not to speak or he would come and cut out his heart. At that thought, he touched the cut on his chest that the bad man put there. It was a reminder to him not to speak, and he wouldn’t. He wanted the bad man to stay away.
Rebecca opened Israel’s shirt and began to clean the wound over her son’s heart, thinking he had indicated that it was causing him discomfort. “The cut isn’t deep. You’ll be fine,” she told him, forcing her tone to be cheerful. “Jemima, brew a tea of willow leaves. Once he drinks some, it will help the pain.”
“Yes, Ma,” Jemima answered. She immediately moved to do as she was told.
“Rebecca, I have an idea where Daniel might be. Yad told me when he brought Israel home the other day when they encountered Okchakko Talakto-“
“Who?” she interrupted.
“The Creek warrior, Okchakko Talakto. The English translation is Blue Eagle,” Mingo said. “Perhaps, I should locate Daniel so he can come home right away.”
“Yes, Mingo, please do,” Rebecca answered as she watched Israel close his eyes. “I need him, and so does Israel.”
Patting her shoulder, Mingo smiled. “If all goes well, we will be back by tomorrow morning. I will ask Cincinnatus or Yad to look in on you.”
“Thank you,” Rebecca said with a smile. She angled her head towards him. “Your help is greatly appreciated.”
“Do not mention it.” Mingo patted Israel’s shoulder, and then he turned and made his way to the cabin door. He had every intention of finding his friend and returning with haste. When he opened the door, he saw that it had begun to rain. He groused inwardly at having to spend a night in the rain, but knew the Boones were worth getting a little wet. ‘A small price to pay,’ he thought.
Immediately after Mingo’s departure, Jemima approached her mother cautiously. “Ma, I’m sorry about what’s happened to Israel. I should have known he wouldn’t follow the rules and stay within the boundaries I had set. I should have anticipated him running off.”
“It’s not your fault, Mima.” Rebecca took her daughter’s hand and squeezed it lovingly. “As your father would say, what’s done is done. What we have to do now is care for him the best we know how. I wouldn’t be surprised if, in a few days, he isn’t his usual self again.”
“I hope you’re right.” Jemima smiled slightly, but she was still feeling guilty about Israel’s injuries. “That tea should almost be done now.” She moved to get her brother a mug of it. Then she came to a sudden stop and looked over her shoulder. “Ma, thank you for forgiving me.”
Rebecca twisted around to face her. She wanted to tell her that there was nothing she needed to be forgiven for, but decided not to. “You’re welcome, dear.” She turned back to Israel, who remained asleep, his breath steady and easy. Rebecca gently laid a hand on his chest, and prayed that he would recover quickly.
Later in the evening, Rebecca and Jemima ate dinner at the table while Israel slept. Each one concentrated on their own thoughts, and so the cabin was extremely quiet. A knock at the door startled them both, and they grinned at being jumpy.
“Becky! Jemima!” a voice called out.
“It’s Cincinnatus,” Jemima announced. She went to the door to let him in.
As he stepped inside the cabin, he doffed his hat. “Evenin’, Becky. Mima.” He nodded his head towards each of them when he said their name.
“Good evening, Cincinnatus,” Rebecca greeted him. Then she held up a hand. “Before you ask, Israel is doing fine. He even ate a little dinner.”
“Do tell.” He made his way to the boy just to see for himself. When he reached the bed, he saw Israel asleep with a bandage around his head and another running across his chest.
He lifted the bandage away from the head wound and then did the same with the other. “You did a good job fixin’ him up.”
“Thank you, Cincinnatus.” Rebecca came to stand beside him. “I have had a mite a practice.” She chuckled as she realized she sounded like her husband.
“Did Israel say what happened to him?” Cincinnatus asked. “Mingo said no one knows but the boy himself.”
“No. In fact, he hasn’t said a word,” Rebecca replied. “He won’t even nod or shake his head. I can hardly get any kind of response from him. He’ll look at us, but that’s all.”
“That’s a shame,” Cincinnatus said, slapping his hat against his leg.
Israel awoke just then and lifted his head to see a man he hadn’t seen before standing by his bed. The man had a bushy beard. Fear crept into his being. Was the bad man behind all that hair? No, he decided. The bad man was bigger than this man. He was still safe.
“Howdy, Israel,” Cincinnatus greeted him.
Israel stared at the man with the bushy beard, and then looked towards the redheaded woman standing beside him; then back to the bushy beard man.
“That’s some goose egg on your head,” Cincinnatus said. “Did Hannibal give it to you?”
‘Hannibal? Who is Hannibal?’ he thought. He wanted to ask the bushy beard man who this Hannibal was, but he wouldn’t. He mustn’t speak because that would make the bad man come, and he didn’t want to see the bad man. He was very scared of the bad man.
“Israel, will you tell Cincinnatus how many fish you caught a few days ago?” Rebecca asked him in an effort to get him to say something. Anything. The boy just gazed into Rebecca’s blue eyes and remained silent.
“Ma, Israel fell asleep before he had an apple with his supper. I cut one up for him. May I give it to him?” Jemima asked as she came to stand beside her mother.
“Certainly,” Rebecca answered and stepped aside to allow her daughter to pass.
Jemima sat on the bed beside her brother. She handed him an apple slice. He took it from her, and bit off a portion of it.
“Nothing wrong with his stomach,” Cincinnatus observed.
“I’m grateful for that,” Rebecca said as she crossed her arms.
“I reckon I’ll be gettin’ on back. I left Yad and his sister back at the tavern to look after things while I checked on you. Yad’s probably raiding my supply of ale, and not bothering to pay for it,” Cincinnatus grumpily explained. “As if I can run a business without payment. You need anythin’, Becky, before I go?”
“We’re fine, Cincinnatus. Thank you for coming by,” Rebecca said as she led him to the cabin door. “Dan should be home in the morning.”
“I’ll come tomorrow mornin’ just the same,” Cincinnatus told her. “Maybe that boy will be feelin’ up to talkin’ then.”
“I hope so.” Rebecca opened the door, and Cincinnatus left the cabin uttering his goodbyes. She then joined Jemima and Israel and watched as he ate the apple slice in total silence. He looked at her at times, but otherwise, there was no reaction; not a smile, not a pout. Nothing. After taking a seat beside Jemima, she placed a hand on her shoulder. Jemima patted her mother’s hand. In this way, they comforted one another.
Late in the morning on the next day, Daniel entered the cabin. Mingo was right behind him. He leaned Ticklicker against the wall and hung his powder horn and coonskin cap on the peg by the door. Jemima came to him and he hugged her tightly. “How’s Isra’l?” he asked, not bothering to mask his concern.
“Ma said he woke up a lot in the night because his head was hurting. They’re sleeping right now,” Jemima replied. “Pa, there’s something else. Israel hasn’t smiled or said a word since he was hurt. Ma’s tried to get him to talk, but he won’t. She’s hoping that when he sees you that might change.”
“Let’s give it a try,” Daniel said as he took her hand. The trio made their way to Israel’s bed.
Just as Daniel sat beside his slumbering son, Israel awakened. The boy trained his eyes on him. “Howdy, son, I hear tell you’ve given your ma quite a scare,” he said, turning a lopsided grin.
Israel continued to gaze into the big man’s green eyes. He was relieved that this man looked nothing like the bad man. Then he contemplated his words. The big man was confused. He was the one who was scared. It was his heart the bad man wanted to cut out. He couldn’t have frightened his ma. Then another thought struck him. The man mentioned his ‘ma’. Who was his ma? He didn’t know, but he had an idea she was the red-haired woman that was always there when he woke up in the night. It didn’t bother him not to know who his parents were. His main concern was that the bad man not see him or hear him. He wanted to keep his heart right where it was.
“Dan?” Rebecca said as she fell into her husband’s arms and they kissed. She had been napping on her bed while Jemima kept watch over Israel. When she had awakened, she had come to check on Israel and found Daniel already there. “How long have you been here?”
“Not long,” he replied. “I’m sorry to say he’s not talking for me either.”
“He will,” she said with confidence. “It may take some time, but he will.” She looked down at her son and saw he was squinting his eyes. She immediately sat beside him.
The little boy brought a hand to the bump on his head and tried hard not to let out a moan. He couldn’t. The bad man might hear him. But oh, how his head hurt!. ‘Ma,’ he thought, ‘if that’s who you are, make my head feel better. Please.’
Rebecca placed one hand on the side of his face and the other at the base of her son’s neck. This had happened during the night, and she had learned that the episodes didn’t last too long. He usually slept afterwards.
When the pain eased, Israel opened his eyes to see who the woman called his ma sitting beside him. He wanted to cry, but he wouldn’t. Again, the bad man might hear him. He also wanted his head to stop hurting, and wanted as well for the bad man to go away and never find him. After feeling his ma’s hand near his neck, he covered it with his. Then he leaned forward and as he hoped, she embraced him. He wrapped his arms around her neck. He reasoned that the bad man couldn’t find him if he buried his face in her shoulder. At that moment, he felt very safe. He wanted to thank her for protecting him, but he couldn’t. The bad man might be nearby.
Rebecca rejoiced in her heart for this small miracle. Since his injury, he hadn’t shown any inclination towards understanding much of anything, but he did seem to understand comfort, and if he wanted her to she would hold him all day. As it turned out, she didn’t have to. He fell asleep in her arms and then she laid him back down on the bed.
Daniel and Mingo mounted the crest of Boone’s Hill and stopped to look around. After setting the butt of his rifle on the ground, Daniel rested his arm on the one holding it. “Not a sign,” he said. “The rain’s washed away any tracks that were here. But, there has to be something around here that will tell us how Isra’l got cut.”
“All we know for certain is that he fell into a crevice and hit his head on the rocks within it,” Mingo said as he absent-mindedly fingered his rifle. “That’s where we found his marble bag.” Mingo patted the inside of his vest to be certain he was still carrying it.
“That answered the question of the bump on his head, but not the cut on his chest.” Daniel removed his cap and placed it behind his belt. “That was made by knife or a sharp-edged object of some sort.”
“And it is reasonable to assume that Israel did not cut himself deliberately, or even accidentally,” Mingo added.
“Which leaves an unknown person who did the job. But who is that person?” Daniel asked, not expecting an answer. “Mingo, I think whoever did it, did it to terrorize the boy. I don’t know why, but a knife wound across the heart is something personal. He was making a statement at the point of a knife. The trouble is nobody knows what that statement is.”
“Daniel, whoever this man is, he is dangerous. If he did this to one child, he will do it to another,” Mingo stated.
“We’ll look around a spell longer, and then we’ll go to Boonesborough and warn the folks. Someway, somehow, we’ll find who did this,” Daniel said with determination. “I won’t allow another child to be hurt by this madman.”
Lifting his rifle, Daniel cradled it in his arm and resumed his search. Mingo dutifully followed. For another two hours, they turned over practically every rock, but found no sign of who had assaulted Israel. Daniel was unwilling to give up, but Mingo convinced him it was time the settlers were warned. He ceded to his friend’s wisdom and the two of them headed for the settlement.
It was dark when they reached the tavern. From outside, they could hear the boisterous activity within. Daniel opened the door to find Virginia standing on a table, belting out a song about a lost love as the patrons cheered her on. As they moved inside, they saw Cincinnatus. He was busy serving drinks to the happy crowd. Then they saw Yadkin sitting in the corner; a look of disapproval on his face. They went to their friend and sat beside him.
“Just look at her.” Yadkin pointed his mug in his sister’s direction. “Singin’ and dancin’ like a cheap tart. A married woman like her ought to have some pride.”
“She looks like she’s havin’ fun,” Daniel observed as Virginia danced around the room with Cincinnatus, a new song on her lips.
“Dan’l, I don’t want her havin’ fun. I want her to go home,” Yadkin groused. “Besides, if she were Becky, you wouldn’t be sayin’ that. You’d be draggin’ her out of here.”
Before Daniel could reply, Virginia danced herself and Cincinnatus towards them. “Dan’l, Mingo, so glad you could join us. Care to dance?” Virginia asked.
Daniel glanced at Yadkin and then back to Virginia. “Why not?”
“Well…ah…Dan’l, no offense, but I was hoping to dance with Mingo first,” Virginia said. “I hear he does a wonderful waltz.”
“Virginia, I would love to dance with you. Perhaps, Cincinnatus could accompany us on his violin,” Mingo suggested, as he took Yadkin’s sister by the hand and lead her gallantly to the center of the room.
Cincinnatus retrieved his fiddle from the table top and played a ballad, but Mingo and Virginia danced a waltz anyway.
“Humph. Shunned by my own sister. How do you feel now, Dan’l?” Yadkin asked.
“I feel…thirsty,” Daniel said and went to get himself a drink.
The tavern door came open and a stranger stood on the threshold. Daniel looked in his direction. When the man made no move to enter, Daniel approached him. Before the tall woodsman got within five feet of him, the man turned and ran out of the tavern. He contemplated following him, but decided against it. Judging by the smell of him, he was just a drunk looking for another drink. Still, Daniel wondered why he had run off. Then the thought struck him. Could he have been the man that hurt Israel? Grabbing his rifle and powder horn, he ran after him.
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