He rode past many of those daring souls now. Rough looking men and women stood everywhere, talking, making deals, telling stories. Some were the epitome of the free spirit of the wilderness. Backcountry long-hunters, self-schooled doctors, blacksmiths, farriers, gunsmiths, and merchants. Others were the embodiment of those motivated only by greed—fortune seekers who came only for a chance to profit at the expense of others.
Unlike his brother Stephen, for Sam going to Kentucky was about adventure, and a new beginning, not land. The journey allowed him to draw upon his courage and experience freedom—the freedom for which he, as a Captain in the Continental Army, had fought so hard and for which so many others died. They won more than a war. They won a country. And the freshest part of that new country was Kentucky—that’s what drew his family here.
Now that they were here, would he find a new beginning? Or would his past cling to him like a cold wet blanket? Even as his mind asked the question, he fought against disturbing reflections of long-ago. The sight of the Fort had triggered memories of his own battles. His shoulders grew tight with tension and his forearms hardened beneath his sleeves. He grimaced, remembering the comrades he lost, many under his own command, during the Revolution. Some of those he’d ordered to fight were little more than boys. He saw their faces most often in his nightmares.
He should have died with those young men. And, several times, his injuries were so severe he nearly did. But for some reason, against all odds, he still lived. He rubbed his jaw, now covered in several months of whiskers, wondering why the Almighty had spared him.
Perhaps because his brothers and the others needed him.
As they made their way further into the busy town, his edgy nerves put him on high alert. Sometimes when that happened, it merely made him more cautious. But at other times, it was a warning. He studied Boonesborough through the eyes of the warrior he had become, his mind a strange mixture of both hope and caution.
Catherine didn’t know what to think of Boonesborough. It was unlike any place she had ever seen, and she had traveled extensively, even to Europe with her parents and their servants.
Jane steered her wagon alongside hers and they both shifted closer to each other on their benches. “This is nothing like New Hampshire,” Jane said.
“It’s a far cry from Boston too,” Catherine called back. She remembered hearing stories of frontier lawlessness, drunkenness, gambling, and white men taking Indian wives, usually without the sanctity of marriage vows. From the looks of this town and some of its people, she decided the stories were all truthful.
Boonesborough seemed to affect Kelly, who sat on the wagon bench beside Catherine, quite differently. Having never seen the places Catherine and Jane remembered, the bustling town and the sights before them seemed to astound the young woman. “Have you ever seen so many bodies in one place? It’s a wonder they don’t run into each other,” Kelly said, “and it’s so noisy.” Kelly covered her ears with her hands, trying to shut out the din of horses’ hooves, wagon axles, people yelling, dogs barking, and the myriad of other loud noises in the town.
Kelly was used to the solitude and peace of the deep woods, where her abusive trapper father often left her on her own for months at a time. A motherless, pretty, young woman, Kelly was forced to grow up much too fast. Her rape by the men who had killed Catherine’s husband, had left Kelly emotionally scarred.
Catherine was relieved that Stephen and William killed the two vile murderers and that William had suggested Kelly join their group on their journey. She smiled, remembering the squawking chickens, milk cow, and old mule, Kelly insisted on bringing with her—all still a part of their entourage. The animals had become like a family to Kelly and her only means to fight the severe loneliness of complete isolation.
Catherine returned her attention to the town. Long ragged beards covered the faces of a good many men and unkempt hair hung to their shoulders. She wondered if there was a shortage of barbers, scissors, and soap in Boonesborough. Many wore heavily stained buckskin-hunting shirts that reached their knees. She was sure the sour smell she caught from time to time came from their unwashed bodies.
She also noticed a few smartly attired men accompanied by fashionably dressed women. They would look fitting on the streets of Boston. The frontier town seemed to hold a bizarre mixture of all kinds of people, some of whom appeared to live here, while others looked to be passing through.
Catherine and Jane pulled their wagons to a halt side-by-side to let a woman, heavy with child, waddle slowly across the muddy street. She glanced over at Jane. Stephen’s beautiful red-haired wife was with child and her belly would soon look much like this woman’s, but she was sure Jane would still be just as lovely as she was now.
Jane’s young daughters, Martha and Polly, leaned out of the front of the wagon, staring wide-eyed from behind their mother’s back. The girls both had birthdays on their long trek from New Hampshire, but she suspected the two, along with John’s son Little John, matured in other ways too, having gone through experiences well beyond the normal realm of childhood. Stephen and Jane were desperate to find a new safe home for their girls, where they could once again return to the trouble-free world of children.
“Is this Kentucky?” Catherine heard Polly ask loudly.
Polly, age six, looked much like her father, with dark hair that flowed from a center part, pointing to bright blue eyes. But Polly’s eight-year-old sister Martha was a redheaded green-eyed miniature of her mother. Martha’s braided hair was unable to restrain the small curls twisting across the girl’s freckled forehead and cheeks.
She’d already grown very fond of both girls on their way here.
“No silly,” Martha said, “this is a town with Kentucky people.”
“Momma, Kentucky people are mean and dirty looking,” Polly said.
“These are frontier people Polly. They have a hard life out here in the wilderness and it shows on some folks more than others,” Jane said.
“I hope it won’t show on us like that,” Martha declared.
Catherine grinned, silently agreeing. She wondered how her life would change if she stayed in Kentucky.
Would she find love in the wilderness?
Or loneliness?
CHAPTER 3
Off to Sam’s right, the waters of the Kentucky River, painted by the afternoon sun, flowed by like molten gold. Bouncing sparkles reflected off the water’s surface and reminded Sam of the way his knife glistened in the sun.
As they entered Boonesborough and passed through the busy town, he had felt uneasy. But now, as they searched for a good site to set up camp on the other side of the settlement, he watched the peaceful river flow beside him, surprised to feel his heart beating faster, his mouth curling in a half-grin.
For months on the trail, he could hardly stand the wait. He often wanted to push the clock ahead. Forward to that moment in time when he would step out of the stirrup and put his feet down on Boonesborough’s soil. And now, the time had come.
He spotted a secluded spot by the river, shaded by immense sycamores, with nearly white trunks, polished by generations of elk, buffalo, and deer rubbing against them on their way to water. The ancient river ran deep, flanked by rocks and limestone cliffs on its rugged southern side and on the north by dense woods that covered hills near and far beyond.
“Let’s camp over there,” he yelled to the others, pointing to the spot.
Near the river, he threw his leg over the saddle, stepped out of the stirrup, and felt at home for the first time in his adult life.
Sam took charge with quiet assurance, his back to her.
Catherine stared at his broad shoulders, wondering if they would ever tire of the secret burden he carried. And if he could open up, would he be as passionate about love as he was about fighting for his freedom and his family?
She had a feeling he would be an ardent lover, taking passion as seriously as he did everything else. This perplexing, handsome man, unlike any she had ev
er known, awakened parts of her for the first time. Was one of those parts her heart?
Sam turned around and she saw that his face radiated a vitality she hadn’t seen before. It was a though he’d suddenly come alive, sure of himself and his rightful place.
Was reaching Kentucky that important to him?
Then he looked over at her and there seemed to be a deeper significance to the look he gave her.
She tried to figure out what it meant, but only grew more confused.
Besides, it was time to get settled in. She wrenched herself away from this ridiculous preoccupation with the man.
As they set up camp, Sam situated the two wagons and livestock to allow good visibility of the immediate area.
Then he helped Catherine unhitch her team of two stout horses. Wearing sturdy gloves to protect her delicate hands, she moved with remarkable speed and skill, and exhibited a strength at odds with her slender body. The widow continued to surprise him. This was not the same woman he first met on the trail. She was adapting to the wilderness, confronting it head on, picking up the skills she would need here on the frontier. He had to admire that.
As he grabbed a halter for one of the horses, she reached out and placed her hand on his forearm. Even through her gloves, the warmth of her personal contact made his heart clench.
“Thanks for your help, Captain.” Then she smiled at him again and hastily drew her hand away, but continued to eye him with a calculating expression.
Sam felt a warm shudder pulsate up his spine. Why did her smiles affect him so?
He nodded to her and then quickly turned to go help Stephen, at work unhitching Jane’s team of oxen. Now that Stephen had learned Jane was with child, his brother would want to get her settled as soon as possible. Jane badly needed rest. They all did.
It had been a long week traveling the difficult final stretch of the Wilderness Road. They had passed a half dozen shallow creeks as they neared Boonesborough, most filled with muddy and often stagnant water. Twice this morning, they stuck a wheel. He scrunched his nose, smelling the foul mud dappled on his leather breeches. He needed a bath and a chance to give his clothing a good scrubbing.
They made camp in a subdued mood; the arduous trip hard on all of them. Tired of sleeping outdoors, dirty clothes, ticks, mosquitos, infrequent baths, and severe storms, for the last few weeks they started dreading each day rather than eagerly anticipating it. Despite making the journey on fine horses and well-equipped wagons, it required an effort now for each to keep their spirits up.
Normally, his brothers spent their days joking and trading jests and tales. But lately, fatigue and the monotony of the journey had sombered even the jovial William. It didn’t surprise him when William went in search of an ale and companionship at the local tavern as soon as they arrived. The last few days, he had seemed quieter than normal. Frustrated at the slow pace the wagons forced them to travel, lately William had acted preoccupied and kept to himself reading or cleaning his weapons. Sam suspected his most handsome brother missed the comforts of their old local tavern, including female companionship, and sorely missed his job as town Sheriff. On their journey, William had wanted to spend some time in Philadelphia and Virginia, visiting with some of the lawyers and statesmen there, but Sam had refused, knowing how important it was to reach Kentucky and get homes built before winter.
A keen observer of human behavior, Sam sighed a breath of relief when they had finally neared their destination, because tempers were growing shorter and little annoyances were becoming bigger irritants.
Stephen unsuccessfully tried to comfort Jane, whose pregnancy sapped her energy and made her more irritable by the day. She lost her temper fully twice that week, and Stephen swore it was for no good reason at all.
Now, Sam heard her threatening to brain Stephen with her stew pot when he suggested that she looked worn-out.
“How could that have made her mad?” Stephen asked, looking baffled.
Sam shook his head from side to side. He had no idea. He was as bewildered as Stephen was.
He saw Bear walking over to help Catherine unload her trunk. Bear had tried several times to engage her in conversation but Sam noticed that so far she had not warmed up to his adopted brother. He had to admit, that pleased him.
The children, however, had grown fonder of their giant friend by the day. Bear’s nickname reflected both his personality and his daunting appearance. A giant, hair-covered man, originally from Scotland, he was orphaned on his journey to the American colonies. Sam’s parents had graciously adopted the young man into their family.
Sam helped Stephen remove the oxbow and tie and secure the oxen, then Stephen told his daughters they could get out of their wagon. Sam watched the two excitedly pop out and squeal as they jumped to the ground. At least the gleeful girls still had energy. The two ran off.
“Stay close girls,” he and Stephen both yelled at once.
He looked over at John who was just finishing unsaddling the horses. John had spent most of his free time on this trip fishing and continuing to miss his deceased wife. Lately, the architect had had no luck fishing and had broken his best pole. John had spent the previous evening repairing it, and then tried fishing again, only to bring back dozens of mosquito bites. Sam grinned as he noticed John scratching himself in several places as he led several of their horses, including Sam’s, to the river to water. Walking beside his father, six-year old Little John, John’s only child, led his beloved horse Dan. Before long, the boy would carry a real weapon not his toy rifle. Kentucky would likely force the child to become a man before his time. When that time came, he would be sure Little John was prepared. John had already asked Sam to teach his son how to use a knife. Soon, the boy would begin lessons on shooting as well.
As she was now, Kelly was often quiet, no doubt spending her private thoughts sorting through turbulent feelings. Jane told Sam that after the rape, feelings of guilt and anger, and often nightmares, still plagued the eighteen-year-old. Jane said Kelly wanted nothing to do with men for the rest of her life. Maybe if his family showed her enough kindness, she could learn to trust men again. He decided to try to serve as a brother to the young woman. Here, she would need a big brother to look out for her.
He strode over to help Kelly unload her chicken crates from her pack mule.
“Is this one Genesis, Exodus, or Leviticus?” he asked. She’d cleverly named the chickens after the first few books of the Old Testament.
“No, that one’s Deuteronomy,” Kelly said, bringing a hand up to stifle a giggle.
Good, at least he’d managed to make the young woman chuckle.
“Now that we’re here in Boonesborough, I need to acquire a rooster,” she explained, letting several chickens loose.
“My guess is he’ll either be named Joshua or Samuel,” he offered.
“I think I just might name him Sam,” Kelly said, tilting her head at him as she smiled.
Barely able to keep the laughter from his voice, he said, “Then he’ll be a mighty fine warrior, protecting all your hens.”
Surprising her, and himself, he promptly did his best rooster imitation, which wasn’t all that good, but it sent Kelly into hysterics. Soon everyone gathered around them and joined in sharing the young woman’s amusement. Then Bear tried to imitate the crow of a rooster. Martha and Polly liked Bear’s animated version the best and begged him to do it a second time. Good naturedly, Bear complied, while chasing one of the chickens around in a circle. Catherine burst out laughing. Her laugh was marvelous, catching, and a ripple of mirth flickered through Sam. He suddenly felt ten-years younger than his thirty-nine years.
Sam guessed it was fatigue and relief making them all so silly, but whatever the reason, it felt good. They needed a few moments of merriment after the rigors of their journey.
After the amusing diversion, he felt more elated than tired. Light-hearted, he took a deep breath, enjoying the feel of the fresh air expanding his lungs. Even dead tired and stinking dirty
, he was exactly where he wanted to be. Before they left New Hampshire, he had come to realize that the war had extinguished the fire within him just as surely as blowing out a candle snuffed out its light. After he had left the Continental Army and returned to his home in New Hampshire, life held little meaning or purpose. As a mapmaker and sometimes guide through the wilderness, he managed to make a decent living. But, it was just work. It made him feel unfulfilled, empty, and oftentimes lonely. Like a shadow of his former prewar self.
But now his life would change. Although he felt the physical burdens of constant travel and little rest, his mind and heart had grown stronger with each passing mile. Every day seemed to have more meaning. Every hour his spirit felt more alive and filled with cautious hope. He had savored every minute that brought him further into the wilderness and this new frontier.
A place where, with a bit of luck, he could experience life once again.
He watched Catherine out of the corner of his eye as she clapped her hands following Bear’s last performance. Joy bubbled in her gentle laugh and life shone in her eyes.
CHAPTER 4
After setting up camp, Sam, Stephen, and Bear prepared to ride back toward Boonesborough to join William. John agreed to stay behind saying he would help the women and children settle in. Before he left, Stephen made sure John and Jane kept their rifles loaded and nearby while they went to town and Sam asked Catherine and Kelly to do the same with their weapons.
“How do you suppose William is doing?” Stephen asked, pointing his beloved horse George toward town.
“My guess is William has either gotten himself elected mayor or thrown in jail. Hard to tell which,” Sam said.
“Aye. He is unpredictable,” Bear confirmed. “At least William makes more friends than enemies.”
They tied their horses in front of the Bear Trap Tavern next to William’s horse and pushed through the rough door. The noisy place smelled of a mixture of the clean scent of the pine log walls and the musky dirty men who sat at the tables. By the time their eyes adjusted to the dim indoor light, every eye in the place focused on them, including two from a woman at the top of the stairs.
New Frontier of Love (American Wilderness Series Romance Book 2) Page 3
