The Stranger: Chapter 1
by Rose Baker
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.
"Quick...Dan'l. Dan'l...there's bad news!"
Dan looked up and saw Cincinnatus running toward the cabin. "What is it Cincinnatus? You blown up your still of Blue Thunder?" he laughed, calling to the Boonesborough innkeeper.
As Cincinnatus arrived at the porch, he placed his hand on one of the posts and paused to try and catch his breath. "Dan'l...there's been...an ambush."
"Maybe you should sit down, before you fall down, 'Natus. Ambush? Now just what are you talkin' about?"
Cincinnatus got his breathing under control. "Dan'l, the militiamen that Mingo was guiding through to Fort Black were attacked as they crossed The Ohio, at Smiths Landing. They were all killed bar one."
"Killed! How did you find this out?" Dan demanded.
"Corporal Walters got away. He made his way back to Boonesborough. It's taken him three days. He says they was all killed. I hate to say this Dan'l," Cincinnatus paused, "but he says Mingo is dead as well."
Dan was stunned. "What! I don't understand," he said. "It was a routine trip. There are no Redcoats in the area. Who is it that's supposed to have ambushed and attacked eighteen men?"
"Walters says they were Redcoats, but you're right, it makes no sense with them being at Smith's Landing. He said they were trying to cross the river. As you know, it's rained real hard this last week, so it was high with floodwater. Mingo wanted to wait for it to fall, but Captain Darling insisted. As they got halfway across, the Redcoats came out of hiding and opened fire." Clearly distressed Cincinnatus paused. Shaking his head in disbelief, he continued, "There was no cover, Dan'l, so they was just mown down. If they tried to swim for it, the flood water just swept them away."
"But, what about Mingo? He's a strong swimmer. Maybe he's just injured and laying low," Dan suggested.
Cincinnatus shook his head sadly. "Dan'l, he was one of the first shot. Walters says the musket ball took him in side of the head, and he saw him swept downstream."
Dan looked away. He couldn't understand. This was supposed to have been a routine journey. Mingo had volunteered to guide the militiamen, who were unfamiliar with the territory. "I'm going to the Fort," Dan said. "We need to raise a search party, to see if anyone survived." He started to walk away and then turned back, grimly adding, "And we need to find and bury the dead."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Charlotte Browning cursed the mud. It was everywhere. This God-forsaken country was keeping her at her wits' end. The snowmelt had been bad enough, nearly causing the river to burst it banks. But now, with the incredible rainfall of the last week, the river threatened to completely flood the lower field.
On top of that, one of the cows had managed to escape. As the tall brunette woman tried to herd it back to the enclosure, her skirt and petticoats became more and more saturated with the sticky black mud. Why couldn't she wear trousers like a man? It would have made life so much easier. As this thought went through her head, she sighed, remembering that it had been over two years since her husband, Nathan, had been killed. Why had she been so stubborn? How could she have thought that she could still run the farm without a man to help out? Maybe she should try and sell, and move to one of the big towns. Her children, Mary and Israel, could go to a proper school then, and she could always find work as a seamstress.
Charlotte considered her options as she slowly drew closer to their Jersey cow, Daisy. She was near the river now and glanced out across it. Something was odd. There was an object, different from the branches and twigs that swirled amongst the muddy water. Charlotte drew closer still; her mud-caked boots making her progress painfully slow, and gasped as a body floated by. Then another. And another. As she got to the river's edge, yet another body bobbed up, its face pointed toward the sky. 'The poor soul', she thought.
What had happened to these men?
Up stream another body floated into view. It was tossed half over a clump branches and other river debris that formed a sort of raft. Charlotte steeled herself, knowing she was looking at yet another dead person. The clump bumped into the shore near her and spun, slowly revealing an Indian with a large bloody gash on his forehead.
Charlotte frowned. An Indian was certainly not what she had expected to find, especially after seeing three white soldiers float by. The Indians in this area had been killed or driven out during the French and Indian War. The raft drew closer and finally grounded on the bank near where she stood. She could see the Indian was still breathing, but just barely. He wore a buckskin jacket with fringing along the sleeves. His trousers were made of blue broadcloth, with a red stripe running down the side. His long black hair was matted with blood and mud. The head wound was still bleeding.
What was she going to do? She was sorely tempted just to push the wretch off into the river again. Still, there was something about him. He looked unlike any other Indian she had ever seen. Besides, she knew she couldn't live with herself if she did such a thing. For her, killing chickens when their time came was next to impossible. She couldn't just let a man bleed to death. Making up her mind up quickly, Charlotte decided to rescue the stranger. She paused and looked at him. Her neighbors the Mackenzie's always helped her out, if she asked them. Unfortunately, it would do no good to ask them to help with this man. The Mackenzie's hated Indians -- like most of the people around these parts. Most likely Mr. MacKenzie would shoot the stranger on sight.
Charlotte took a deep breath and decided she would just have to do it by herself.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Charlotte tucked her arms under the stranger's and pulled him off of the makeshift raft. He was tall and wet, and very heavy. As she strained to drag his form a few feet, she wondered how she going to get him to the cabin. Charlotte eyed the recalcitrant cow Daisy, who by now had found a large clump of grass washed up on the riverbank and was calmly chewing away.
Gently, Charlotte lowered the stranger to the ground and headed for the cow. Fortunately, Daisy was curious like most cows, and had started plodding towards the stranger. The children often rode her. Charlotte could use the cow as a carthorse.
Moving so not to startle her, Charlotte caught Daisy and guided her over to the Indian. Using the tether rope, she looped it around his chest. Slowly but surely, good old Daisy made her way back to the cabin, towing the extra load without complaint. Now, getting the stranger inside the house would be another story. Thank goodness Mary and Israel were out. They had run an errand to the MacKenzies and would not be back for at least a couple of hours.
Charlotte carefully untied the tall Indian from Daisy's tether rope and bracing her back, dragged him into the cabin.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Dan leaned on his rifle and stared at the swirling waters below. The level had dropped, leaving a line of debris shoulder high, along the edge of the riverbank. Normally you could wade across the river, with the water coming to maybe waist-level at most. There was usually a flat-bottom boat that you could use to cross the river tied to a post, but it was missing. Most likely washed away in the flood.
'Then again, maybe not', Dan thought. Perhaps the missing boat was a part of the planned ambush.
Behind him Jericho made a low whistling noise.
"They wouldn't have had a chance, Dan'l!" Jericho called. "Look how high the river was. How could Captain Darling possibly think they could cross here?"
Grimly, Dan nodded in agreement. He was thinking exactly the same thing. Turning, he indicated to the group of six Boonesborough men that they should follow him. They did, and the party made their way to the water's edge.
"We'll follow the bank downstream as far as we can, and bury those we find," Dan said without emotion. Then, something caught his eye. Stooping down, he picked up a mud-coated rifle at the water's edge. Its decorated strap had a lone bedraggled feather clinging to its underside.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Jericho eyed Dan. He knew whose rifle it was. For once in his life, the usually vocal young man did not know if he should say anything. He watched as Dan stared at the gun and then, still holding the rifle, quickly turned downstream.
Slowly the frontiersman started picking his way along the muddy banks in search of his friend's body.
Jericho and the rest of the men followed quietly.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It was supper time at the Browning cabin and they were running late. Israel Browning sighed as his sister Mary yelled at him to catch up.
"Israel, stop jumping in every puddle you see!" she yelled. "Ma is going to kill us. We're already late, and if she sees how wet you are she is going to skin you alive!"
Israel rolled his eyes. Just because Mary had turned ten she thought she was a grown-up and could boss him around even more. He was only three years younger, but she was treating him like a baby.
Mary ran on ahead. As Israel hurried to keep up, he was busy thinking of what excuse they could use this time. He glanced at his sister's retreating form. Maybe it was better if he just kept his mouth shut. Mary usually had the best excuses.
As they approached the cabin door, Mary turned to him and placed her index finger to her lips. "Shhh, just let me explain why we're late."
"We could tell the truth. I was trying to catch one of those frogs. I'd like to keep one as a pet..."
"Shhh!" Mary shushed him.
They walked in together, expecting a telling-off from their Ma. Instead, their mother quickly and quietly walked over to them, and indicated they should be quiet. Puzzled the pair remained still as their mother bent down and whispered,
"I need you to be quiet. We have a guest, but he's not well. I don't know if you remember your Pa talking of his cousin, William, from England. He was coming to stay with us. Unfortunately, he fell from his horse while trying to cross the river and was injured. Somehow, he made his way here. He's asleep now, so don't wake him."
Israel and his sister nodded. They were curious and full of questions, but at their mother's stern expression, fell silent. Crossing the room they quietly washed their hands and faces in the basin on the washstand, and then took their seats at the table. When their Ma was in one of her moods, it was best to stay quiet.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Charlotte watched her two children, thinking how foolish she was. How was this lie going to work? What would she do when the Indian awoke? He was fast asleep now -- almost unconscious -- in her bed in the curtained off room. It had taken all of her effort just to get him inside, clean and tend his head wound, and get his heavy body into the bed. His hair had been so badly matted that she had had to cut most of it off. The mud and blood stained clothes she had taken outside and thrown in the river.
Dressed in her late husband's nightshirt, with the short hair, she had found the stranger did not look like an Indian at all. That had given her an idea. Nathan had often spoken of his cousin, William. He had died on the voyage to America only the year before. She had never told anyone, not even her children about him.
If people knew she had taken in an Indian, they would think she was mad. Or perhaps immoral. Probably both. But, a cousin by marriage? That was a different matter.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The day had been a long one. The men were tired. They had buried ten bodies, including Captain Darling's. Now as they sat silently, sharing some coffee, the sun sank low behind the hills. Dan sat a little apart from the others, staring into his empty cup. He was thinking how stupid Captain Darling had been. Dan had always known that the Captain had had grand ideas. Darling was young and brash and had wanted desperately to make an good impression on the Continental Army.
What a waste, what a terrible waste!
Dan simply could not comprehend why Mingo had let them move forward. He should have protested. Stopped Darling. Now Mingo was dead, and that didn't make any sense either. Mingo had been injured so often before, but he always pulled through. He had always been like a cat with nine lives. Dan put his cup on the ground beside his boots.
Not any more.
Jericho walked over to him. The young man pushed his hat back on his head as he asked, "How much further today, Dan'l?"
Dan thought a moment. He was bone tired and unable to go on. "We'll make camp here tonight, and continue on tomorrow."
Jericho nodded, and walked back to the others.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Three days later they had found and buried only four more bodies. Most of the men were ready to go home. Most thought their chances of finding anyone else unlikely. When they had set out, they had all hoped they would find someone alive, but as each day had passed, those hopes had dimmed.
Dan had become withdrawn and quiet. He had hardly spoken in days. Jericho seemed to be the only one who could talk to him. Because of this, he was nominated as spokesman and sent to tell Daniel that the men were ready to go back to Boonesborough.
Jericho took a deep breath as he crossed over to Dan who, as was his habit on this mission, was sitting alone. "Dan'l," he started, "the men want to go back.... Dan'l?"
Dan looked up. "Sorry, Jericho. What did you say?"
Jericho sighed and repeated it. "Dan'l, the men want to go home."
"Why? We haven't found everyone yet," Dan replied.
Jericho held his friend's weary gaze. "I don't reckon we'll find any more," he said.
"No. We ain't quitting." Dan shook his head. "We keep looking."
"Dan'l, you gotta' stop." Jericho declared, raising his voice. "Dan'l, you have to accept--" Dan shook his head again and rose to his feet, meaning to go. Jericho caught his arm and looked him directly in the face. "Come on," he shouted, "you have face up to it. Mingo's dead. And if we ain't found his body by now, we probably won't find it. Ever!"
Dan didn't say a word. He just stood there, stony-faced.
Jericho threw his hands up. "If you want to keep lookin', Dan'l, it'll be on your lonesome. We're heading back. With or without you!"
With that, Jericho angrily turned away and walked back to tell the rest of the men.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Charlotte had been so tired that she had fallen asleep on the spare bed in her clothes. She opened her eyes now and looked out the window. Dawn had long since come and gone. She frowned. The children were extremely quiet. Perhaps they had gone straight outside. Suddenly, it occurred to her to check on the Indian. Padding across the floor she pulled the curtain to one side, only to find Mary and Israel standing, staring at the strange man.
"What do you think you two are doing? I told you to leave Cousin William alone," Charlotte whispered. "Can't you see, he's unwell. Now get about your chores!"
"Sorry, Ma," Mary piped up. "Me and Israel was just checking on him. We was real quiet."
"I wanted to see if he looked like Pa," Israel added.
'Poor Israel', Charlotte thought. 'He misses his Pa so much. "Come on, you two," she said softly. "I don't want you waking him up. Off you go!"
As the children hurried out, heading for the door, Charlotte quietly followed them. "Don't forget the bucket," she said. "And don't forget to check for eggs. And Israel...."
"Yes, Ma?"
"Don't get too muddy."
Charlotte returned to the stranger to make certain he was still sleeping. Then she tiptoed out, thankful that the children had not awakened him. She still had no idea what to do when he awoke.
A sharp cry from outside startled her.
"Ma! Ma! Come quick!" Israel yelled.
"Daisy's gone again!" Mary added.
Grabbing her boots on the way, Charlotte headed out the door. When she reached the children on the porch, she found that, indeed, the ornery cow had gotten out again.
As she pulled on her boots, Charlotte said, "Mary, can you please check around the back of the cabin. I will check the lower field. Israel, go inside, quietly, and get the spare tether rope." Charlotte growled as her foot slipped, missing the boot, and ended in the mud. It was going to be one of those days. Finally getting the boot on she started out, but before she had gone too far, Mary called her.
"Ma! I found her, Ma."
"Thank goodness," Charlotte said. "Mary, can you manage to get Daisy, and this time, tie her to one of the posts?"
"Sure can, Ma."
As she trudged back to the house and went inside, intending to see where Israel had got to, Charlotte paused. She couldn't see her son, but she could hear him talking.
'Oh no!' she thought, realizing where he was, and rushed into her room.
Once there Charlotte gasped. Israel was standing by the stranger's bed, talking animatedly to him. The Indian was awake.
"Israel, get out!" she cried.
"But, Ma...."
"Get out, now!"
Israel's lower lip started to tremble. Charlotte glanced at the stranger who was looking straight at her, a puzzled expression on his face. "It is all right. He has been no bother," the stranger said, his voice deep and quiet, though rough from lack of use.
Charlotte felt her jaw drop. She just stared at him. She had been worried that he would not be able to understand, or speak to her. Or at best, maybe, know some broken English.
This stranger spoke perfectly, and like a gentleman.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Where am I?" the stranger asked, looking confused and at a loss. " I cannot remember...anything." He paused and added softly, "I am afraid I do not know who I am."
Charlotte gulped. That put a totally different spin on her story. Taking a deep breath, she asked hesitantly, "You really don't know who you are?" The stranger shook his head and then winced; the action obviously bringing him pain. "You had a nasty fall and gashed your forehead severely. I'm sure it must hurt."
"Yes...my head hurts...." The stranger answered and became quite distressed. "But please tell me.... Do you know who I am?"
Charlotte sat tentatively on the edge of the bed. "Of course I do, William," she lied. "Nathan wrote of you many times, and told us all about you. You must remember. I'm your cousin's wife...sorry, his widow. I'm Charlotte. Nathan and I had two children, remember? There's Mary. She's outside. And this is Israel."
At the name 'Israel' the stranger frowned. "Israel?" His hand reached for his temple. "Israel, I know that name."
Israel this whole time had been quiet. Now he piped up. "Cousin William, you knew my Pa."
The stranger seemed suddenly overwhelmed. "I'm sorry.... my head is exceedingly painful. Your Pa, you say?"
"Come, Israel. Cousin William is very tired and unwell. Why don't you go outside and help Mary make sure Daisy doesn't escape again."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
After Israel had gone outside Charlotte returned to her bedroom. The stranger was lying there with his eyes closed. She thought, as long as this man did not regain his memory, that once he recovered, he could help with the farm. He did not look at all like the Indian she had rescued. Perhaps he was an Englishman who for some unknown reason had been dressed up as an Indian. He sounded English. She looked at him. Whoever he was, he had a kind face, and her instincts told her he was an honorable man. Her Nathan had died. His cousin William had died. No one would know this man was not William. No one.
This man could easily become William.
As Charlotte moved to rearrange the covers around the stranger's shoulders, he opened his eyes again and smiled. Then he asked, "Please, you say you know who I am. Please, tell me what you know."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Over the next half hour Charlotte told him what she knew of William Browning, taking a mental note of anything that might trip her up later. She was deliberately vague on certain facts, explaining that Nathan had not told her everything about him. He had come recently from London, after spending a short time in Philadelphia. In London he had been a book-keeper.
After losing his wife to Smallpox, he had decided to make a new life for himself in America. He had no children, but Nathan had asked him to become Israel's godfather. She told the stranger that he, William, was related to Nathan on their father's side. He had been travelling to their farm but his horse had spooked and thrown him. Luckily he had been close to the farm and had made his way here before collapsing.
After making sure he was comfortable, Charlotte urged him to rest and then she left him alone.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The man in the bed watched the brown-haired woman go. His confusion had not been lessened by her story, but had grown. Some things had sounded familiar, but the more he concentrated, trying to remember, the more his head hurt.
With his eyes closed, he tried again to grasp hold of something that made sense to him. His thoughts whirled about. There were glimpses of faces, fleeting images of places he had known.....
But as he tried to grasp hold of them they drifted away. Exhausted, he sank back into the pillows and fell into a deep sleep.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Jericho decided to stay with Dan after all, but over the next few days their search continued to prove futile. The river was starting to drop and the banks were soft with mud, and as a consequence, their progress was painfully slow. After several hours of fruitless searching they came to a long, straight section of river near Limestone. Dan stopped and looked at him.
"I think we might turn back, Jericho," Dan said softly.
Jericho nodded his agreement. He was relieved that Dan had finally decided it was time to give up. Their journey back was as silent as their original search. Still, as they retraced their steps, they continued to search along the river bank, hoping against hope that they had missed something, and that the lowered water might reveal something more. Perhaps a trace of the missing men.
And, of course, of Mingo.
When they finally reached the outskirts of Boonesborough, Jericho left Dan and went on to the fort. The young man watched as the great tall frontiersman headed toward his cabin. Daniel Boone's shoulders were slumped. His gait slower than usual. He was taking the death of Mingo real hard.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Rebecca spied Dan. Her husband was walking toward the cabin. As soon as she saw him, she knew it was bad news. Israel and Jemima had been busy helping to get their supper ready, and only noticed their father had returned as he walked through the cabin door.
Israel rushed over, with Jemima hard on his heels. "Pa! Pa!," he cried. "Did you find Mingo? Tell me he's alright, Pa!"
Rebecca walked over and took hold of Jemima's shoulders, as Israel looked up at his father expectantly. Bending down so he was his son's height, Dan spoke quietly, glancing quickly at Becky and Jemima, "I'm sorry son. We couldn't find Mingo. I'm afraid it look's like he's dead."
"Oh Pa! No!"
Israel started crying. Jemima was already quietly sobbing.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Dan stood and, keeping one hand on his son's shoulder, met Rebecca's eyes. There were tears in them. He opened his great arms and wrapped them around his entire family.
'What a terrible waste,' he thought. Dan knew of so many good men who had been killed in this war by the British.
And now his best friend, Mingo, had been added to the score.
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