This was an idea of mine a few days ago when I searched the vast internet and found little to no Daniel Boone fan fiction. Especially ones that featured Mingo romantically. I counted a grand total of four, and one was a spoof. I'm going to do the best I can and open up as much DB fanfictions as I can, and hopefully get the theme flowing. This fic is planned to be long, slightly au/spin-off-ish and have a sequel. It is a Mingo/OFC fic. I hope to be publishing my Jemima/Mingo fic later this week. It is heavily inspired by "My Dearest Friend" by Lucretia Skelington. I Highly recommend reading it!

I do not own Daniel Boone, and I am not making profit from this story.

Vivian rocked nervously, whispering to herself farfetched words of comfort. It had only been a week, and they had abused her in some of the worst ways possible. She felt sore, and dirty. She wouldn't be shocked if she ended up dying from some disease these spineless pigs gave her.

It had only been when the Injuns attacked that Vivian and her heavily pregnant belly had escaped, gone from that nightmare in hell. Whether it had been a disease or not, she wasn't sure to resent the child, or care for it like any happily along woman would. 'But I'm not happily along, am I?'

Jemima Boone hummed her cheery tune to herself, traipsing along with a rhythmic skip in her step. Her Ma sent her to collect water from the spring. The well was seeming to be working at its own pace, much to the dismay of the Boone family. Israel was out with Pa, and she was very content working side by side with her mother.

That didn't, however, mean she was happy having her Pa gone all of the time. It got quiet without him. Not that he was exactly a very loud person, but rather his visits home where always exciting, save for the countless amount of times they were raided by angry white men, attacked by Injuns, taken prisoner by…

Perhaps life with her Pa didn't always bring the best situations, but Jemima loved him nevertheless. Her Pa wasn't a terribly… intellectual being, but, he was a darn good fighter, and could take anybody on. He was teaching Israel well. Israel was growing up to be such a strong boy, always running after Pa and Mingo. She knew he wanted to be like their Pa, but she wouldn't be surprised if he one day decided to be like an Injun after all the flocking he did to Mingo.

Jemima reached down to the river, bucket in hand.

"Excuse me?"

Jemima jumped, dropping her bucket down, and into the river. The heavily accented voice belonged to a short, and unhealthily pale woman. She was holding a bundle of cloth.

"Do you happen to have any food with you? I can pay it off for you, see?" She held a meager amount of money, and gave a desperate smile.

Jemima dusted her gray dress off, and offered a half smile.

"I don't have any food with me here, but I can take you back to my cabin and my Ma may be able to supply you with an amount of food," Jemima rounded. "But you can always go to the fort in central Boonesborough and get some food. Cincinnatus doesn't charge much for a nice meal."

The woman sighed. "That's nice, darling, but it'd be preferable to eat without the company of men. Say, I don't suppose your Ma has any supplies for infants, does she?" She tilted the bundle to Jemima to reveal a small, sleeping newborn. It was also pale, like it's mother.

Jemima gasped, but followed through with a smile. "My Ma probably has some stored supplies from when my brother was younger. How old is…"

"He's four days. Benjamin Scott Thompson. I'm Vivian. Who would you be?" The woman asked while they walked back to the Boone cabin.

"I'm Jemima," she paused. "He's beautiful. But, where's your husband?" Jemima inquired.

Vivian cringed. "I don't have a husband. It's just me and Ben in this world."

Jemima remained quiet, but lit up when she saw the cabin. She led Vivian to the home, and left her on the porch while she retrieved her Ma.

Becky was shocked at the sight of the woman. Her chestnut hair was dull with dust and dirt. Scratches on her face marked her as a reminder of what happened. Becky invited her into her home without a second thought.

"Let me fix you up some supper before you starve. 'Mima, go fetch Israel's old cot and some blankets."

Vivian had been feeling much better after Rebecca had painstakingly set up a tub, and put together a new dress. She felt cleaner, fresher, more human. The only thing left on her were scratches and bruises. Thankfully she had been able to be graced with only a few scratches and little bruises on her face. The kind woman had even taken the liberty to lay out a dress for her. Jemima had tended to Benjamin. She felt like royalty.

However, she knew she had explaining to do. After being at the Boone cabin for a few hours, the man of the house had showed up. Daniel Boone. He brought a small blond boy with him and an Indian.

"I'm home, Becky. Ma'am," He paused. "What brings you to the cabin?" Daniel asked as Israel went and peered at the newborn.

"Pa! Look! It's an infant!" Israel's excitement put a smile on everyone's face.

"Israel! Be quieter, he's trying to sleep." Becky had scolded.

"His name is Benjamin. Would you like to hold him?" Vivian smiled softly. Israel's furious nod made Vivian laugh. She taught him how to properly hold an infant.

After an hour of plain discussion, Daniel had asked the inevitable question again. Vivian's face had flushed a bright tomato color. Uncomfortable answering him, she whispered, instead.

"If you could have your young'uns leave, then I'd really appreciate it." Becky booted the children outdoors, making Israel take Rosebud first.

Speaking in a calmer voice, she spoke. "Thank you, Rebecca, Mr. Boone," Vivian started. "I sought out your daughter when we crossed paths in the woods. I asked her if she had any food, and offered to pay her. After speaking, she brought me here, to your graciousness and hospitality. And I still intend to pay off my stay here. It had been a while since I've had a proper meal."

Daniel frowned. "Well where is his father?"

"His father is dead. Shawnee had come in and wiped the place out. I'm grateful for it, I had been given the opportunity to leave. Escape."

"What was your husband's name?" Dan and Mingo exchanged looks, and then replaced their eyes on the young woman.

"Dan," Becky started. Vivian cut her off.

"It's alright Rebecca. I don't know what his name was. I don't even know who the father is."
Rebecca's eyes widened with a shocked gasp.

"Don't judge too quickly, Becky." Daniel murmured, but you could hear the doubt laced on his tongue.

"I'm a French immigrant. I was owned by a pig named Dejìn McTavish. My experiences there with his men were less than appropriate. Horrible people, they were. It really hadn't shocked me when I learned of my pregnancy. I came to Boonesborough to give my son and I a new start. I hope he never remembers the harsh few days he had to live through." Vivian pushed her blond hair from her eyes.

"I am truly sorry for your experiences, Vivian. Please, do feel comfortable." Becky looked embarrassed.

"Dejìn McTavish. I do believe I've heard that name before, how about you, Daniel. He was the fool who fought you in Salem." Mingo finally spoke up. Vivian's eyes darted to him, and then the feathers that decorated his raven colored hair. A Cherokee.

"Ya, I do believe you're righ' 'bout that. Flocking roun' them prostitutes, he was. What did the Shawnee have against him, though?"

Mingo displayed a grim smile, and said nothing. His quietness intrigued the young mother, he seemed to have many things stored inside his head, but yet he chose to express them only when important.

"If you have no further questions, I'm going to see to it that my son and I get a full night's rest. Rebecca, Mr. Boone, Mister…"

"They call me Mingo. I am pleased to meet you, Vivian."