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

by Dorothy Wiley

  She warmed the coffee William had made before he left and set a Dutch oven in the coals, loaded with plenty of water, beans, some salt, and the wild onion she’d found on her stroll. As she sipped her coffee, she studied the cabin’s interior and decided what to tackle first. Then she started on her chores, her heart content.

  After a couple of hours, she took a deep breath. It smelled cleaner and fresher now. She collected a few sprigs and twigs with fall colored leaves and made a bouquet for an old pot she found in the corner. Then she baked some corn bread in the hearth and when it finished baking, she sat it on a brick to cool. The sweet aroma made her stomach growl. William thought he would be able to make it back by noon, so she decided to wait and eat with him.

  As she continued her chores, she thought about their lovemaking. The awakening experience had left her reeling. Afterwards, he had held her in his arms, stroking her head gently as she slowly recovered.

  Her own driving need shocked her to her core and, even now, made her face warm. And the way William was able to answer that need stunned her even more. She didn’t know it was possible to feel those things. He was a masterful lover. She had underestimated everything about being intimate with him. It was so much more than she anticipated. Spectacular even. And she was eager to learn more.

  She wondered if William could have gotten her with child. She would know in a couple of weeks, but for now, she set aside the thought.

  Suddenly drowsy, she decided to lay down and rest her eyes for a few moments. But her exhausted body and the warmth of their bed soon lured her into a deep, dragon-free sleep.

  A wet tongue was licking her face. William?

  Kelly’s eyes flew open. The face of the cutest puppy she had ever seen stared back at her, its eyes equally wide. With its puppy paws balanced precariously on the curves of her chest, the fat little ball of fur started wagging a fluffy tail and moved toward her neck.

  When he licked her chin, she giggled and sat up. The long-haired golden puppy tumbled into her lap and curled into a tight ball. She glanced around, but there was no sign of William.

  “Where did you come from little one?” She stroked the pup’s downy back several times and then picked it up. A male. A boy with huge feet and an even bigger belly. And long velvety ears that flopped down on either side of his warm brown eyes.

  William burst through the door, his arms full of more supplies and packages. A huge grin covered his face. “How do you like our new boy?”

  “He’s completely adorable!” she exclaimed, standing up. “Is he mine?”

  “Indeed.”

  “I’ve never owned a dog. Oh William, how can I ever thank you!”

  He chuckled. “I can think of some ways. Come see what else I got you.”

  Holding the puppy, she hurried over to the table now laden with all manner of items. She gave William a big kiss before examining the bounty. There was a new wool blanket, a block of cheese, a pound of sugar, an apron, candles, some paper and ink, a pretty blue shawl, and a few books.

  “Books, you got me books!” She opened each one reverently and then gave him a peck for each one.

  “I remembered how worn your tomes were back at your cabin. They were falling apart and you had to leave the books behind. I wanted to replace them for you,” William explained.

  “I read each of the three more times than I can count,” she said.

  “The shopkeeper promised me they were all good stories. And he said that one, The Art of Cookery, contained some excellent recipes and as well as perfumery guidance. Take a look at the page where I put the ribbon.”

  Kelly opened the book to the ribboned page and read,

  Sweet Scented Bags to Lay with Linen

  Eight ounces of damask rose leaves, eight ounces of coriander seeds, eight ounces of sweet orrisroot, eight ounces of calamus aromaticus, one ounce of mace, one ounce of cinnamon, half an ounce of cloves, four drachms of musk-powder, two drachms of white loaf sugar, three ounces of lavender flowers and some of Rhodium wood. Beat them well together and make them in small silk bags. A mortar, pestle and a grater are essential for creating a strong scent. Place the mixture in an 8 inch by 8 inch square piece of cloth and tie together with a ribbon.

  That will be fun to try someday, she thought. This cabin could use a little sweeter scent. “How thoughtful. Thank you once again, William.”

  “It is my great pleasure to bring you joy.”

  “Being with you is my greatest joy.”

  “And I you. But, I have to hurry back to town. I need to finish questioning Helms and interview the witnesses to the shooting at the blacksmith’s, and then later today, I have to meet up with Sam and Bear at our old campsite. I need to retrieve all my things and my law books before the two of them leave to return to Cumberland Falls. Not that anyone is likely to steal my humble possessions, but I wouldn’t want to risk someone stealing my law books.”

  “I hate to see Sam and Bear leave,” Kelly said. “It’s reassuring to have both of them around.”

  “Indeed, but it’s time they got back to the others. I’m sure Sam misses Catherine. After all, they are newlyweds.”

  “I think he would miss her terribly even after they’d been married for fifty years,” she said.

  “Sam told me something interesting at the swearing in ceremony.”

  “What?” she asked, her curiosity growing.

  “It seems Catherine is an extremely wealthy woman.”

  “Truly?”

  “Not only that, her family is English nobility. And her late husband had a verified claim to ten thousand acres surrounding Cumberland Falls. That’s about fifteen square miles. Now she owns it. Or rather, she and Sam own it. She insisted that they share everything.”

  Kelly felt her eyes widen and her mouth drop. She blew out a breath. “She never let any of us know.”

  “She wanted Sam to marry her for love, not her wealth, so she kept it a secret from all of us, even him. She didn’t tell Sam until a few days into their honeymoon.”

  “I’m astounded. She always seemed elegant, almost regal, but never would I have guessed she was noble. She’s so kind and humble.” She stroked the pup’s head as she talked.

  “Well she is definitely noble. She even has a large estate in England that produces a substantial income each year,” William explained.

  “That explains her fine clothing and all her pretty things. And why she could buy Jane and me those gowns and under garments to wear to her wedding. She was always so generous with all of us.”

  “Yes. She even gave a nice chunk of land to Stephen and Jane, so they won’t have to worry about filing a claim, which could take many months. Stephen has already nearly completed their new home. In fact, by now, it’s probably finished.”

  “That’s wonderful news. Their new baby will have a new home. Can we go visit?” she asked hopefully.

  “Of course, perhaps in the springtime. But for now, I need to attend to my duties here.”

  “Please say goodbye to Sam and Bear, and to my father, for me. I said my farewell to Papa after our wedding dinner, but I’d like you to tell him that I’ll miss him. Now that I have paper and ink, perhaps I should write him a note you can take with you. I’ll encourage him to stay strong and sober.”

  “Splendid idea. Don’t let me leave without it.”

  The puppy started licking her fingers. “Are you hungry boy?”

  “Of course he’s hungry. He’s a puppy,” William said.

  “What will I feed him?”

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” William confessed. “Do I smell cornbread? What’s in the Dutch oven?”

  “I made beans and cornbread,” she said, proud of herself.

  “I can tell coming home to you every day is going to be delightful in so many ways,” he said, and tugged her to him, hugging her. “For now, he’ll just eat what we eat. When I get a chance, I’ll buy some game from Lucky McGintey.”

  “How is the sweet old fellow?”

&nbs
p; “His aim is still true. He brought a pack horse loaded with meat into town earlier today.”

  “What do you think we should call this little boy?” Kelly asked, continuing to pet the pup.

  “He’s yours so I’ll leave that up to you.”

  “How about Riley?”

  “Riley Wyllie. I like the sound of that,” William answered and kissed her. He leaned down to kiss the pup too, but Riley licked him on the nose.

  She brought a hand up to stifle her giggles.

  “He can’t hold his licker,” William said with a wide smile. “We’ll have to keep him away from the pub.” He threw back his head and chuckled richly.

  His jest made her laugh as well. “Here, you take him for a minute and I’ll serve us up some food.”

  “I’d better clear our table off. Let’s just set him down for a while,” William suggested. “He’s going to need something to chew on. All puppies like to chew on things.”

  “I noticed an old leather strap by the smokehouse.”

  “Were you out exploring today?”

  “Yes, I found two graves on the rise behind us.”

  “Probably two of the many relatives Boone lost while settling Kentucky,” William said.

  “It made me think of my mother’s grave. I feel badly that I’ve left her behind.”

  “We all leave love ones behind eventually. While I never met your mother, I’m sure she would want you to do what was best for you. I have no doubt she’d understand,” William said. “She’s not there anyway. She’s with the angels in heaven.”

  “Of course you’re right. I’ll start thinking of her as being there instead of back home in Virginia.”

  “Kelly, when you went walking, did you take the pistol I left for you with you?”

  “No, I didn’t,” she confessed. “I forgot. I set out to just get some water, but couldn’t resist looking around for a while before I got started with my cleaning.”

  “The place does look remarkably better. But promise me you will always keep that pistol handy. I’ll buy you a rifle too and a good long knife. And keep my ax inside with you too. Once Riley gets to be the big fellow he promises to be by those feet, he can alert you to danger. But until then, you’ll have to be especially careful.”

  “I promise,” she said.

  He took her hand and led her to their bed. “Now it’s time to thank you properly for all your hard work.”

  “But it’s the middle of the day!”

  “Indeed.”

  CHAPTER 23

  The weeks flew by and her days at the cabin seemed to Kelly more like a pleasant dream than anything else she could compare them to. Her puppy grew like a spring weed, each day getting taller and heavier, until finally she could no longer easily carry him in her arms. By the season’s first frost last week, he could even bark and growl like a grown-up dog. She grew more attached to Riley by the day and thought of him as her child. An exceedingly hairy child, his thick coat was a light golden color, much like William’s hair. Her constant companion, she sometimes felt like she had two shadows.

  But he wasn’t her child. Her first child now grew inside of her. When she’d missed her monthly flow for the second month, she knew for a certainty. And joy filled her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She placed a hand on her belly wondering if their child would be a tall boy like William or a little girl with blonde hair like hers. She wanted to make a special dinner for William tonight and then tell him her wonderful news. After studying her new cookbook while she drank her morning coffee, she decided to make bread, a soup, sliced smoked ham with a mustard sauce, fried potatoes with garlic, and maybe William’s favorite custard for desert.

  It was frosty again this morning. Crystals on every tree and shrub glittered in the first rays of the sun and bespangled every object in their yard. Interlocking ice crystals hung from the branches and leaves of trees, and painted the grass blades white. Although she had never heard the term, William had called it a hoar frost, and said it wouldn’t last long.

  With her new blue shawl tied tightly around her and her warmest socks and clothing on, she milked the cow and started gathering eggs. Just as she had done back at her old cabin, she had named her egg chickens after the first few books of the Old Testament. “Good morning Genesis! And how are you Exodus?” Leviticus, a soft chestnut in color, was her favorite chicken. Fuzzy feathers surrounded her head, like untidy hair, giving her an unsettling, but amusing appearance. She did not name the chickens she raised solely for their meat.

  Finished with the cow and eggs, she made her regular morning trip to the creek, with Riley trailing beside her, his tail wagging enthusiastically. All of a sudden, Riley stopped, his tail frozen in mid wag. His eyes focused intently on something, his lifted nose pointed toward the forest. She peered into the woods trying to determine if it was a deer or perhaps a reckless rabbit that made its presence known. It was not unusual for Riley to take notice of other animals in his area, but he rarely barked. Or growled. But he did now. A low throaty rumble tumbled down his chest. The sound made the hairs on her neck stand up.

  She slipped her hand into the deep sturdy pocket she’d sewn onto her apron to hold her pistol and gripped the handle. The feel of it in her hand was reassuring. Filling her bucket with her other hand, and keeping one eye on the tree line, she watched Riley. His guard was definitely up. “What is it boy?”

  In response, Riley barked just once. But the bark was serious, a definite warning. Something wasn’t right.

  “All right. I understand. Let’s go back now, I’ll keep a watch out,” she said softly, her own sense of danger beginning to needle her.

  As calmly as she could manage, she started back toward the cabin. But Riley didn’t follow. She looked back for him. His stance was rigid, menacing, and he hadn’t moved an inch. What was he doing? He wasn’t old enough yet to intimidate anything, except maybe a rabbit or squirrel.

  “Riley, come boy,” she urged and kept walking, more briskly now. Nervously, she took a quick glance over her shoulder when he didn’t obey.

  “Riley, come, now!” she yelled.

  He caught up with her. But this time, his tail wasn’t wagging. He whined and nudged her hand with his cold nose. Could he smell something? He raced up to the porch, as if to encourage her to hurry. And she did.

  Alarm erupted fully within her as she leapt onto the porch, some the water splashing on her boots. “Riley, inside.”

  But, acting like a great brave watch-dog, Riley leapt off the porch and ran off, barking, toward the woods.

  Her heart sank. But there was nothing she could do now.

  She hurried inside, slamming and barring the door behind her. Immediately, she peered through one of the port-holes, but noticed nothing unusual. Best be ready though in case there really was trouble out there.

  She grasped the rifle, opened the pan, filled it with powder, closed the pan, poured powder down the barrel, placed the ball in the barrel, drew the rammer, and rammed the powder and projectile.

  The nagging in the back of her mind refused to be stilled. Something or someone was out there. It was early morning and William said he wouldn’t be back until late in the day. She struggled with the uncertainty in her mind. Should she saddle her mare and try to find William? No, she would have to risk exposing herself until she got the horse saddled. Should she wait on the porch where she could see her surroundings better? No, someone could sneak up behind the cabin. Should she just stay barred up inside until William returned? Yes, that was definitely the safest plan.

  She heard the nicker of a horse and the answering soft, low, breathy whinny of Ginger. She peeked through the front port-hole hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever it might be. But spotted nothing. Unfamiliar sounds, though, seeped in to haunt her.

  In quick succession, she peered first through the side portal, and finding nothing crossed the cabin and looked out the other side as well. Nothing. Then she went back to the front port-hole, and put her face to the
hole.

  Kelly flinched and sucked in a breath. She retreated a step and then another, her heart pounding.

  An Indian’s dark eyes stared back at her. He gave her a narrowed glinting glance. “No Boone woman!” His tone was hostile. The rest of his words were in his native tongue. He wasn’t alone. Other footsteps resounded on her porch and she could hear Riley barking and growling at the intruders to his territory.

  Fear gripped her, but she mustered her courage, raised the rifle, and advanced toward the portal. This was her home and she would defend it!

  The savage stepped back as she presented the long rifle through the opening. He quite openly studied her, and she him. His long sinewy arms gripped a tomahawk. His coarse hair hung straight, and the skin of his bare hairless chest was a reddish brown. He seemed impervious to the cold. And to fear.

  It was the closest she’d ever been to a native and her heart thumped wildly in her chest.

  He let out a fierce high-pitched cry, clearly intended to scare her.

  She found the alarming sound exceedingly unnerving, and it sent shivers up and down her spine. But she wouldn’t frighten that easily. She would be safe as long as they didn’t set fire to the cabin.

  She was tempted to just fire the rifle, but feared that killing one of the braves would cause the others to attack. Should she shoot anyway? The flintlock rifle held one shot. Then she would only have a second shot with the pistol. She would have to make both shots count and then quickly reload, before they could break down her door with their tomahawks.

  She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. She trained the rifle’s sights on the brave’s chest. She didn’t want to kill him; she just wanted him to leave. But if she had to kill, she would.

  He swiftly darted away, out of her line of sight.

  Then she heard something on the side of the cabin. She instantly swiveled her head in that direction. Another Indian peered into her cabin from that porthole, his dark eyes animated and glimmering. A quick look at the other side of the cabin revealed the agitated face of yet another brave! Dear God, how many of them were there?