Whispering Hills of Love (American Wilderness Series Romance Book 3)

by Dorothy Wiley

  He could hardly wait to begin Kelly’s instruction. With a few drugs in her, just enough to keep her compliant, she would be a willing pupil. He would make sure she learned her lessons well.

  After washing up, Kelly returned to where Harpes waited. She approached slowly.

  Glancing up from his saddle bag, he openly appraised her. His look was so peculiar it sent a tremor of foreboding through her.

  She sat down next to a tree and stretched out her legs while keeping her eyes glued on Harpes. She fought to keep her growing uncertainty from showing.

  Harpes offered her a biscuit wrapped in a towel. “Here, you’ll enjoy this. You must be famished.” His voice was kind, yet edged with something else she didn’t recognize.

  Ravenous, she quickly gulped the sweet bread down. She would have to sleep soon, her senses felt dulled. She pressed her hands to her burning tired eyes. Her entire body felt heavy with weariness and her heart ached for William. What was she doing here with this man? She began to wonder just what he wanted of her.

  “Go ahead, sleep,” Harpes suggested. “There’s no reason not to rest. We’ve made excellent progress and it will be dawn in a couple of hours. I’ll keep a watch out.”

  She gave a forced smile and a slight nod of consent. “Maybe just a few minutes. Do you promise to stay over there?”

  Amusement flickered in his eyes. “Indeed, I’ll just be taking a short nap myself, right here.” He tapped the ground beside him as he too sat down and leaned back against a large pine tree.

  “First, give me back my father’s weapons.” Kelly tried to sound demanding, but to her dismay, her voice broke slightly.

  He frowned and shook his head decisively. “No my dear. I might need them in case we’re attacked.” He sat there, blatantly intimidating.

  That set alarms ringing in her heard. “If we’re attacked, it would be better if we were both armed.” She drew a settling breath and forbade herself to tremble, but her hands, hidden in the folds of her dress, twisted nervously.

  He seemed to enjoy her struggle to maintain her dwindling composure.

  She lifted her chin, boldly meeting his eyes, and fought for self-control. “I insist that you give me the weapons. They belong to my father, not you.”

  His expression darkened and something disturbing revealed itself far back in his eyes.

  Kelly’s guard was fully up now. Her heart thudded within her chest. They stared at each other across an uncomfortable silence. She swallowed and found her voice again. “I am a competent shooter, I assure you. I had to hunt my own food where I liv….” She couldn’t finish the sentence. She gasped, realizing something was not right with her. A warm pressure filled her head and then all of a sudden she felt like she was laying in quiet field in the sun. All her confusion, all her loneliness, all her shame, gone. She felt so good...

  She struggled to open her eyes, but they refused to stay open. Before her lids closed again, she saw Harpes mouth spread into a thin-lipped smile.

  Harpes wasn’t surprised that the drug affected Kelly so rapidly. The poor girl was exhausted. But the drug would make her sleep deeply. He would let her rest for an hour or so and then tie her on her horse. It would be late in the morning before the drug wore off, but by then he would have her safely hidden away at Belle’s house.

  He studied her. He’d seen strength of character on that delicate face and a strong mind in her intelligent eyes. This one might not be as easy as most to bend to Belle’s iron will. He felt sure there would be an interesting skirmish between the two until he got Kelly under his control. In fact, he rather looked forward to her resistance. It would make taking her all the more exhilarating.

  He decided to catch a few winks himself. He covered his face with his tricorne and crossed his legs and arms, a smile of satisfaction tipping the corners of his mouth.

  The instant they reached McGuffin’s campsite from the night before, William leapt off his stallion. Sam and Bear did the same and right away started searching the area. Most of it was covered in pine needles or rocks and finding a good track was going to be a challenge. But, as their father taught them, Sam could track a butterfly flying over solid rock. And Bear was nearly that good too.

  Sam and Bear spread out looking for tracks leading away from the campsite. William focused on finding any clue that would tell them what happened to Kelly.

  “Where did you see Kelly last?” he asked McGuffin.

  “Over there, leaning against that boulder. I slept here.” He pointed to the spot. William studied the area and found a man’s boot print. The boot sole was quite large, larger than McGuffin’s or his. Her abductor had big feet. Likely a tall man. At least Indians hadn’t captured her.

  “Was anything of yours missing?” William asked.

  “Yes, my pistol, my rifle, my lead, and powder horn. The only other thing of value was my whiskey. That was untouched,” McGuffin answered. “Glad of it too, because I’m parched.”

  Kelly’s father reached into his saddle bag.

  “Don’t you even think about drinking,” William hissed. “At a time like this, all you should be thinking about is your daughter.”

  “My guess is she’s all you’re thinking about,” McGuffin countered with an air of defiance as he uncorked the jug. “I’ll leave the worrying to you while I take a quick sip or two.”

  It was all he was thinking about, but William found a perverse pleasure in the challenge. He placed his hands on his hips. “If you even breathe the fumes from that jug, you’ll feel my fist going down your jaw instead of the whiskey.”

  McGuffin tossed his head and eyed him, a melancholy frown darkening his features.

  William boldly met his eyes. Kelly was not going back to Virginia with this bastard. But first, he had to find her. Tension coiled within him, hardening the muscles in his arms and making his fists clench.

  “William, over here,” Sam yelled.

  William quickly raced over to where Sam stood, and Bear joined them at once. McGuffin moved without haste, ambling up to them as Sam was explaining what he’d found.

  “This hoof print is from a much larger horse than Ginger. Probably a stallion. A man mounted here. See the mark of his boot there. And then, over here, you see Kelly’s mare follows behind it.”

  “I found the print of a man’s boot heel close to where Kelly rested,” William said.

  “Where do the prints lead? Back to the road?” McGuffin asked Sam.

  “That’s safe to assume, but I’ll confirm that. Get mounted and bring my gelding. I’ll follow the tracks for a bit on foot.”

  They followed behind Sam at a safe distance, careful not to damage any of the tracks he followed. As expected, they led back to the road, and then headed north. “If they went north and we’ve just come south, they must have passed by the road to Boonesborough before us and took the fork north toward Lexington.”

  “Let’s get going, we’ll catch up to them soon. Whoever he is, he’ll pay for taking her,” William swore. “And if he’s hurt her, I may only be sheriff for a day, because I’ll have to strangle the man with my bare hands.” That was a very real possibility. The thought of another man attacking Kelly made his teeth grind together in anger. He would not let being a sheriff stop him from killing the man.

  Sam remounted and took off first, keeping his eagle eyes on the tracks. William and the other two men followed behind. Sam was able to keep them at a steady trot and still follow the tracks, but their slow pace grated on William’s nerves.

  They followed the trail left by the two horses for several miles and then across the Kentucky River, where the tracks disappeared. William waited, thumping his fingers on his saddle, for several minutes on the north bank until Sam picked up the hoof prints again. Whoever abducted Kelly was smart enough to walk their mounts upstream through the low water and rocks to hide their tracks.

  But the man was not clever enough to elude Sam. After walking his horse upstream, his brother picked up the tracks again about a hun
dred yards west. Sam yelled, “I’ve got it.” The three of them rode along the river’s north bank in Sam’s direction and then followed him into the woods. The tracks, still heading north, ran parallel to the main road.

  All of a sudden, Sam stilled his mount and held his hand up. William scanned the thicket ahead, and realized they’d come face to face with a party of Shawnee. A small band of about ten, probably hunters, slowly moved in their direction. They were outnumbered more than two to one, and every one of the muscular braves held a bow in his hand. Those odds did not overly concern William because Sam and Bear were both experienced and formidable Indian fighters, and he could hold his own too. But he had no idea what kind of a fighter McGuffin might be. He put his hand to his pistol, but did not pull it for fear of setting off a fight. He did not want Kelly’s father killed in an Indian skirmish. She didn’t need any more grief in her life.

  At once, Sam started using sign language to communicate with the Indians. His oldest brother was the only one in the family who knew how to sign. To use the ancient language of the natives, understood by many tribes, was a sign of respect. William hoped it would help them to avoid a battle with the Shawnee. His belly tightened. They did not need this delay.

  “We seek only peace on this beautiful morning,” Sam translated for their benefit as he signed.

  William urged his mount alongside of Sam. If there was going to be trouble he didn’t want Sam to be out in front alone.

  The warrior who seemed to be the group’s leader positioned his horse in front of the other braves and stared back at Sam and William. He was a large, lean man with muscles that rippled across his chest and stomach. His long, sinewy legs were bare. Three rows of paint striped his cheeks, and his smooth gold skin stretched over high cheekbones. What looked like eagle feathers entwined with his long black hair. He held his bow, notched with an arrow, at the ready, as he appraised Sam through squinted dark eyes.

  “His name is Strong Eagle and he asks why we are north of the Kentucky River, off the trail, in their hunting ground,” Sam said.

  Then Sam answered, “We search for one of our women, who was taken by a big man on a large horse. Have you seen such a man with a woman whose hair is the color of the sun when it is high in the sky?”

  Sam translated the brave’s answer. “He says, ‘I see not’.”

  “Ask if we can continue to search if we promise not to hunt in this area,” William said.

  After Sam signed the question, Strong Eagle responded, “My people are the friends of the birds, the animals, the trees, and the flowers. We respect all living creatures. Leave the woods and the fields as you find them. Go, and find woman you seek.”

  Sam answered, “We will try to leave this forest as we found it, so that it may be enjoyed by all and all those who come after us.”

  “And, ask if they will try to steal her if they find her with the white man before we do,” William urged.

  Sam regarded him uncertainly, but then translated William’s question.

  Strong Eagle responded without hesitation. “Shawnee promise Big Turtle not to take any more women from whites. Will take woman not.”

  William knew that ‘Big Turtle’ was the name the Shawnee had given Boone when they made him a blood brother.

  “We are friends of Big Turtle and will tell him of your loyalty to your promise,” Sam said.

  “Tell him I will remember his cooperation on this day,” William said.

  William glanced back at McGuffin, who thrust out his jaw and then said, “Captain Sam, how do we know they haven’t already taken her? I say we give them a fight.”

  William shot him a burning look. “Shut the hell up,” he shushed through stiff narrowed lips, “before you cause problems.”

  McGuffin’s face went livid. “How dare you speak to me with that tone, you insolent cur.”

  “Time to leave,” Sam said to them in a voice of authority. Then Sam turned to Big Eagle. “May your hunt be successful and your bellies full tonight.”

  As soon as Sam finished his sentence, his brother took off and William trailed behind him. He earnestly hoped that McGuffin would be smart enough to follow peacefully with Bear in the rear.

  As soon as they were well away from the braves, Sam’s eyes drew downward in a frown and he turned to McGuffin. “You, Sir, are as dumb as a rock. It’s always easier to go around a mountain than over it. You almost provoked a nasty fight back there and one or more of us could have been killed. Maybe even all of us. That would have left no one to rescue Kelly. Don’t question me in front of natives or anyone else ever again.”

  “My apologies, Sir, I’m just so worried. I thought that maybe whoever stole her might have traded her to those Indians.”

  “I could see the truth in Strong Eagle’s words, even if you could not,” Sam said. He spat out the words contemptuously.

  William could tell his brother thought little of McGuffin. He had to agree with Sam’s assessment.

  “We all know what that man could be doing to my sweet Kelly,” McGuffin said, pitifully.

  The man sounded to William as if he were on the verge of tears and, for the first time, truly concerned about his daughter. Maybe the danger she was in finally sunk in to his thick head. McGuffin was right. They were all well aware of what Kelly could be enduring, and it made his stomach clench with impotent rage.

  He was also mindful of how much she had already suffered. His mind burned with the terrible memory. But her clueless father remained ignorant of her rape.

  William’s mouth twisted. Should he tell the man? He clamped his jaw tight and quickly banished the thought.

  Bear pulled alongside him. “Steady man, we’ll find the lass. Then we’ll kill the bloody bastard.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Harpes carried Kelly to her horse, admiring her slender white neck and full bosom, and carefully placed her in the saddle. He tied her to the mare with her chest leaning over the mare’s neck, her long blonde hair mixing with the horse’s flaxen mane. Her wrists were delicate. He hoped the ropes didn’t burn them, but scars already ringed her wrists anyway. He tied her ankles to the stirrups then looped a rope around her waist that he tied to the saddle. Where had the scars had come from? One of these days, when he had a moment alone with her, he would ask.

  For now, she slept like an angelic baby. But she sure didn’t look like a baby. Unable to resist touching her seductive young body, he stroked her arm sensuously. Beneath the fabric of her riding habit, he felt firm muscles. Yet she was also slim and elegant. His gaze traveled slowly over her voluptuous figure. His curiosity as well as his body aroused, he ran his fingers through her yellow hair. Her tresses felt like silk. His gaze slid rapidly from her beautiful hair to her breasts. Unable to resist, he let his hand wander down and under her to cup her bosom. So soft and full, a perfect fit in his large hand. Then he considered her narrow waist and shapely thighs. He slid his hand under her gown and up her thigh to feel the smooth skin there. Soft as a rose petal. He let his fingers linger there. She reminded him of a white rose, delicate and enchanting. He clutched her bottom and laid his face on her thigh, then closed his eyes and inhaled her scent.

  A fire kindled in his loins. Sorely tempted, he considered untying her.

  But, he had already tied her securely to the mare and taking a drugged woman who could not respond to his skilled seduction would be a lukewarm experience at best, even with one as enthralling as Kelly.

  He would begin her lessons and sample her charms soon enough. They were no more than an hour or two from Lexington. Then this lovely rose would be his. Wholly his.

  Forcing himself to stop his sweet exploration, he climbed onto his mount and hauled Kelly’s horse beside him by the reins. He would have to take it slow. He did not want to risk her falling out of the saddle. That could be disastrous. She was a far too valuable asset to damage with scratches and bruises.

  The crisp air cooled his face, but the sun shone through the trees in brilliant crystal rays that p
romised a warmer day. The beautiful morning and the prospect of bedding Kelly soon, boosted his spirits and he inhaled the sweet scent of pine deeply into his lungs.

  He wasn’t worried about Kelly’s father following. They’d come out upstream of the Kentucky River and made their tracks disappear into the woods, and they had a significant lead on the man. Even if her father did catch up to them, he could easily handle the miserable drunk. In fact, he hoped McGuffin would show up. If he could dispatch the man and send him to hell, he would never have to worry about her father attempting to find her in Lexington. He tried to avoid murder anywhere near a town. That only drew trouble, but out here in the middle of nowhere, he could dispose of the body somewhere where only the wolves would find it.

  And Kelly would sleep through it all, unaware that her father was dead.

  After some time, Sam picked up Kelly’s trail again and within a half hour located their campsite. “They camped here for part of the night,” Sam said, dismounting. He peered around the area.

  “That bastard better not have laid a hand on Kelly,” McGuffin swore.

  It was the first thing the man had said that William entirely agreed with.

  “There’s no sign of a struggle,” Sam said.

  “Let’s see how long ago they were here,” Bear suggested. He dismounted and strode over to a fresh pile of horse manure. His expression grew serious as he studied the dung, moving the round clumps on the top aside until his fingers were in the middle of the pile. A half smile crossed his face. “They just left, judgin’ by the freshness of these droppings. They’re still a wee bit warm,” he said and then stood, grabbing a handful of leaves to wipe his fingers on.

  Still mounted on Smoke, William spun the stallion around and took off at a gallop up the trail. He soon heard the other three men following close behind him.

  His determination to reach Kelly before her captor could harm her surged though him with the force of a tidal wave. Even running at his fastest, Smoke could not gallop fast enough to suit him.