“I shall take the woman to Creelsboro, but I will not take her as my wife. She is grieving. And I like living alone. I have no woman to tell me what to do every day.”
“And no woman to warm your bed.”
Mac’s cheeks flamed.
“Ah, my young friend. Forgive. Anger only dries up the spirit of the white man’s God who lives within.”
Mac blinked at Black Hawk. How could he be so wise and have known the Lord for so little time? “Please come with me. I wish to spend these last days with you.”
“I would like that, too. But I am to die here. It would be a risk for me to travel by day.”
True, he’d be sent back to Indian Territory. Or be killed trying to resist capture. “All right then. You can make yourself comfortable in my home.”
“Thank you, my friend.” Black Hawk grinned. “Your soft bed is gentle on these old bones.”
Reluctantly, Mac got up and prepared his pack for the long trip, knowing Black Hawk would not be there when he returned. Into Your hands, Lord.
For weapons he brought his Kentucky long rifle, his bow and arrows, and a knife he kept in the side of his boot. He packed a few pemmican cakes. He’d hunt on the trail and let Mrs. Danner barter for home-canned vegetables and fruit. He had to admit, her cooking on the open fire set with his stomach a lot better than the pemmican.
His throat thick, he embraced his old friend and left him with a final warning. “Be careful of Jasper. I expect he’ll pay the cabin a visit.”
“I may be old, but my ears still hear like a hawk.” He winked.
“God bless you, my friend. I’ll see you in glory.”
Black Hawk’s eyes watered. “I’ll be there.”
Pamela appreciated the heart behind the words Calvin Turner had shared. Mary mentioned they had suffered losses similar to her own. She’d scream if one more person called Quinton her husband, but to tell them the truth would be to tell Mac the truth, and she couldn’t trust him with that bit of information. In some small way it made sense to let him believe the lie. She felt safe. A recently widowed woman would be treated with respect by a God-fearing man. And Mac gave all indication that he was a God-fearing man. Someone like Jasper she should fear. Would she be safe in Creelsboro, owning and operating a store? Would the men in town let her do it? Nothing made sense anymore. Nothing.
She rummaged through the wagon and finally found the chest she’d been looking for. The one with fine linens. Mary and her family could use these. It seemed the perfect gift. It was practical and yet also fancy—something to decorate their tables. From another chest she pulled out a bolt of thick cotton cloth. Perfect for making shirts, dresses, and even some light trousers for the hot summer months, not that they’d wear them for a while.
Then the idea struck her to place the remaining linens in her trunk and her dresses and undergarments in the trunk with the money. Her task completed, she jumped down from the wagon, grabbed the items for the Turners, and headed for the house.
“Need a hand?” Mac strained a smile and stepped past her, placing a large pack in the back of the wagon.
“Oh, you’re back.” Pamela squelched her surprise. “Thank you. I’m giving these to Mary.”
He nodded.
“Is something wrong?”
“Nothing.” He took the two bundles from her arms and started toward the house. He stopped and turned back to look at her. “Anything else?”
“No.” Who are you, Mac? And what is so heavy on your heart? Did he not want to take her to Creelsboro? Was he only doing it because of a promise to her brother? Should she hire someone else? Perhaps Calvin. He could use some money with the new baby coming, couldn’t he?
“Thank you for asking them to bring Quinton’s trunks down.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I gave them to the Turners as well.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“What? Should I have kept them?”
“No. You have no need for the items, and they can make use of some of them. It’s practical.”
“And by that you’re implying that I’m not?”
He looked down at his feet.
“Look.” She poked her finger into his chest. “I’ll have you know I’m quite practical.”
He glanced back at the wagon.
“What?”
He fumbled with the bolts of cloth. “Do you know how difficult it will be to take that wagon on the trail?”
“Some. But the trail’s been used for years. It’s a well-worn highway now.”
Mac lowered his head but not fast enough. She saw his snicker.
“What are you telling me, or not telling me, as seems to be your way of communicating?”
He looked back at her, fire in his eyes. He opened his mouth, then promptly closed it. “Let’s just say your concept of the trail has no basis in reality. You society folks always have a problem with that.”
“Society folks? Oh, I get it. You think you’re better than I am because you live off the land. You think that because I come from a place that has actual roads and rules, laws that are enforced, I have no logic? Let me tell you, you couldn’t be farther from the truth. My logic works just fine. And when we arrive in Cumberland Ford, I’ll find another who will take me to Creelsboro. Someone who doesn’t feel so high and mighty about himself.” She huffed and marched off to the house.
Just who does he think he is, telling me who I am and not knowing the first thing about me? I’ll admit I picked the wrong traveling shoes …. But Quinton had led her to believe the road was like the streets in Virginia. Perhaps not cobblestone, but the ground would have been well trod and hardened from the many, many people traveling along it for the past fifty-seven years or so.
A high-pitched whistle whizzed past her ear. Mac grabbed her by the waist and pushed her to the ground. Wood splintered from the log siding of the house.
Chapter 6
Stay down,” Mac whispered. The shot had come from the foothills.
Will pulled open the front door, squatted down, and ran over to them. “Who was that? Jasper?”
“I don’t know. Take Mrs. Danner inside. I’ll find out.”
“I’ll be right behind you,” Will informed him. “Not all of the children are in the house.”
“I’ll keep an eye out.” Mac released the frightened woman. He had to admit she had spunk.
Mac crawled on his belly toward the barn. He didn’t plan on beating Black Hawk to heaven. He worked a wide circle from behind the barn up to the edge of the trees. The shooter couldn’t have gotten too far. He hadn’t heard any rustle in the underbrush. Birds were beginning to sing again. Obviously, the person was lying low.
He turned and saw Will working his way around the barn. Hopefully, the children were playing in there.
Stealthily, he worked his way through the underbrush, careful not to make a sound. A mumbled whimpering caught his ears. He turned toward the southeast. Crying? Someone was crying?
“Hello,” he called out.
The sobs increased. Mac picked up his pace. The voice of a young one. Dear God, please let them be safe.
He broke through the underbrush and came upon Jason, with a pistol lying at his feet. “Jason, are you all right?”
The large brown eyes stared back at him. Black smudges ran from side to side across his cheeks.
“Target practice?” Mac asked.
The boy nodded his head. Mac opened his arms, and he came running into them. “I didn’t mean to shoot her. Is she alive?”
“You missed, thank the Lord. What were you aiming at?”
The child pointed to a tree about ninety degrees away from the house.
“I’m not your pa, but I think you’re a bit too young to be shooting.”
“Jason?” Will shouted, gasping for air.
“I’m sorry, Grandpa. I didn’t mean to.”
Will simply embraced the child and headed with him back to the house. Mac picked up the pistol, checked the barrel, and f
ound it warped. No wonder he hit the house.
He heard Will send out a familiar whistle, a sound that let everyone know all was well. Soon, folks started coming out of the house. Mac felt certain Calvin would be taking Jason out behind the barn later. But I think Jason will find that a welcome relief. The fear of what might have happened in that boy’s eyes sent a chill down his own spine.
One person hadn’t emerged from the Turner home. Mrs. Danner. How had he gotten on the wrong foot with her two minutes after he returned? And Black Hawk thinks I ought to marry her? He has no idea what this woman is really like. She’s so self-consumed.
Mac gnawed his inner cheek, reassessing that judgment. She did willingly give the trunks to Will and his family.
Mac took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Guess I need to go see if the widow is all right. After a few minutes greeting the various members of the family, he entered the house. The living area was empty. The kitchen, too. Where is she? Then he saw her exit the room she’d slept in with a small carpetbag in tow. “And just where do you think you’re going?”
“Cumberland Ford. There’s a tavern I can stay at.” She walked past him as if he weren’t there.
“No, you’re not.” He reached out and grabbed her elbow.
She glared at his hand. Hot daggers of emotion singed his heart. He released his grasp.
“I absolve you of my, my … of Quinton’s dying wish.” Why can’t I tell him he’s my brother? Pamela wondered. What am I afraid of?
“Absolve all you want, Mrs. Danner, but that doesn’t change that I’m a man of my word.” His voice remained tight but controlled.
Pamela shivered at the thought of this mountain of a man ever losing control.
“Mrs. Danner, perhaps we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot here. I wish to honor Mr. Danner’s request to take you to Creelsboro. And I will try to not make judgments about your social upbringing. Truce?”
Pamela relaxed her shoulders. “I appreciate your concern, Mr. MacKenneth, but I think it best if I should try and find another traveling companion. You and I tend to be fire and ice.”
“More like fire and gunpowder,” he mumbled.
Pamela chuckled. “You may be right there. Seriously, though, I’ve been giving this a lot of thought, and I’ve concluded I should ask Calvin or one of the others to take me.”
“Calvin, with his child due soon? You can’t be serious.”
“Yes, you’re right. He’d need to stay by his wife. Perhaps one of the other brothers. I’m sure they could use the money.”
“At the moment I think they’re all rather busy discussing firearms and safety with all their children.”
“Oh dear, I heard it was safe. What happened? I just assumed it was a stray bullet.”
“Jason was target practicing without permission. Calvin will be quite busy with the boy for a while.”
Pamela resisted the urge to rub her backside. On more than one occasion, she’d been the recipient of such instruction. Thankfully, her infractions had never revolved around a firearm.
“Mrs. Danner, I am the most logical choice to take you west. I have no family obligations, and I have no business that would need my attention.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a fur trader. But as I mentioned to you before, during the spring and summer I’m a farmer.”
Pam sat down on a wooden chair. Handmade, she presumed. “I don’t know, Mr. MacKenneth. The trip will be long and hard. I have enough grief dealing with Quinton’s death, the loss of my parents, and …” She shook her head. He wouldn’t understand how others had made plans on her behalf. A man like Mac lived his own life.
Why am I fighting with her to continue the trip? She’s right. She could find someone else. Even one of the Turner brothers would do a great job. Why am I insisting? Mac turned and walked over to the one window in the front of the log cabin.
There had been no further evidence that Jasper would pursue them. Even Black Hawk wouldn’t fault him for letting the woman go with whomever she felt more comfortable. He pulled off his coonskin cap and wiped his brow.
He glanced back at the young widow. Fine yellow hair concealed Mrs. Danner’s face, her head bent as if in prayer. Her fingers knit together. Water-filled blue orbs appeared and stared back at him.
“Mr. MacKenneth …”
“Mac,” he corrected.
“Mac,” she continued. “You’ll probably think less of me than you do already, but you seem to be a bad omen. Every time you appear, something bad happens. And personally, I’ve faced enough hardships. I don’t want to risk more.”
Mac mentally picked his jaw up from the floor, clamping his mouth shut so he wouldn’t speak a word out of turn.
“Quinton died shortly after you arrived. Jasper showed up on the trail; and since you’ve returned, I’ve been shot at. Don’t you think that’s more than coincidence?”
Lord, give me the right words here. I don’t want to alienate this woman further. “There is another side to what you’ve presented.”
“What’s that?” Her eyes searched his as if longing to be proven wrong.
Slowly he made his way over to her as if approaching a fawn. “God may have had me there to help you just when you needed it.”
She blinked.
“How would you have removed that wagon from Quinton?” He paused, letting the question penetrate. “How would you have dealt with Jasper if you had managed to get Quinton free and had continued on the road?”
A tear trickled down her right cheek. He raised a finger to remove it, then thought better. Scanning the room, he lowered his voice. “And if I hadn’t been here, you might have been hit by Jason’s bullet.”
She opened her mouth a fraction to speak. For the first time, he noticed how perfect her lips were, the perfect shade of pink for her fair complexion, carefully riding the contours of her mouth. Whoa! Mac jumped up and retreated to the window. He kept his back toward her, his stance rigid. Where had those thoughts come from? It was all Black Hawk’s fault. If only he hadn’t suggested I need a wife. Who was he fooling? The woman was beautiful. He’d never seen anyone finer. He had to protect her. Glancing over his shoulder, he wondered how much he’d have to protect her from himself.
A knock at the doorway broke his wayward thoughts.
“Is it safe to come in now?” Mary smiled.
Mac felt the heat rise on the back of his neck. If he’d been wearing a four-in-hand, he’d be pulling at the collar of his shirt.
“Beggin’ your pardon, Pamela, but you’re a different woman around Mac. And, Mac, I’ve never seen you raise your voice at anyone before. To see you’ve done that to a widow … You should be ashamed of yourself.” Mary put on her white linen apron and went straight to the kitchen.
They had been heard arguing. Great. He winced. “I apologize, Mary. I’ll be in the barn if you change your mind, Mrs. Danner.” He slipped on his cap and hiked over to the barn.
He examined the wagon. Why had he lost his temper with Mrs. Danner? What had caused them to blow up with each other in the first place? He tried to think back. Nothing. Then his words, “It’s practical,” echoed through his mind. Mac leaned against the wagon and let his head bang against it. He was no good with women. Never had been. Why was he the one being dragged across the country with her? Surely God could have found a better man.
And perhaps that was the real problem. He was fighting God’s choices for his life. Mac squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his forehead with his thumb and first finger. Why did You lead me down that road, Lord, at that particular time? The answer that he was needed was too easy. Perhaps there was more to Mrs. Danner’s situation than simply needing a guide to Creelsboro. Perhaps God had chosen to use this opportunity to teach Mac to trust Him on a new level.
Mac slid to the ground and sat with his knees to his chest. He’d always considered himself a Good Samaritan of sorts, willing to go the extra mile for others. Of course, his lifestyle limited the contact he
had with others. He gnawed his lower lip.
“Heard ya hollerin’ at Pamela Danner. What’s that all about?” Will Jr. asked as he came in and towered over him.
“I’ve just been trying to figure it out myself.”
Will Jr. tossed back his head and laughed. “Ya don’t figure out women, my friend, ya only figure out how to live with them.”
“I don’t need to figure that out. I’m not living with her.”
“You most certainly are if you’re taking her halfway across the state.” Will Jr. sat down beside him. “Tell me, what’s the real problem ya have with her?”
“She’s unbelievably impractical. Just look at the contents of this wagon. I can’t imagine how we’re going to get this across the river.”
“Several trips?” Will Jr. quipped.
“That’s the problem. A trip that would take maybe five days at a good run could take two weeks, perhaps more.”
“I see. You think she should just run across the state like you?” Will Jr. narrowed his gaze, his bushy brown eyebrows knit together. “No one runs like you. I swear you’re half Indian.”
Mac was tempted to tell Will that Black Hawk was back in the area but decided against it. The fewer who knew, the safer his old friend would be. “I admit I’d rather run than ride.”
“That’s what I’m saying. You’re more comfortable with that. Me, I prefer a horse. I get there quickly, and I’m not hot and sweaty.”
Mac chuckled and nodded his head. “No, I’m not expecting the woman to run across the state. But couldn’t she lighten the load some?”
“Aren’t the contents of this wagon what she needs to run her business in Creelsboro?”
“I reckon. I think they would have been wise to ship it through a northern route or have it delivered shortly after they arrived.”
“I see. Now you’re a man who knows how to run a store.”
“Don’t go twisting my words, Will. I made no such boast. I’m just speaking logic, pure and simple logic.”
Brides of Kentucky Page 5
