New Frontier of Love (American Wilderness Series Romance Book 2)

by Dorothy Wiley

  William sat with a man at a table near a large stone hearth, unlit due to the summer heat. His brother spotted them and waved them over. “Sit down and have a drink. You boys have some catching up to do,” William called to them with his usual wide smile.

  Sam blatantly studied every face in the place before he made a move.

  The woman at the top of the stairs flashed a saucy smile and swayed her enormous breasts and ample hips suggestively. Sam took in her shapely form and, despite himself, found himself smiling back.

  “You can’t start a fire if you keep the flint in the box,” she told him, winking.

  He chuckled, along with several other men who heard the ribald remark. But he wasn’t ready for a fire—he wasn’t even ready for a spark.

  He quickly turned toward the others. Right away, he appreciated the Bear Trap’s atmosphere and mood. Unlike the taverns in New Hampshire, he saw no billiard tables, or fancy drinks sitting in front of men wearing fine fashionable clothing. Here, weathered men in soiled clothing and dirty boots filled the tavern, their faces and bodies hardened by the near daily life and death challenges of the wilderness. These men were part of a new breed of Americans. Like him, this breed thrived on the lack of civilization, not the presence of it.

  Nevertheless, as men do everywhere, they occasionally shared the need for a soothing drink and the companionship of others who face the same hard challenges of life.

  As he ambled toward William, Sam heard conversations about current crop prices, two men negotiating a trade, a man reading a newspaper aloud to his companion, and several men discussing odds on an upcoming horse race. The tavern windows, all open, allowed a slight breeze to float through, cooling the large room.

  William motioned the tavern owner over. “Three more of those good ales if you don’t mind Sir,” William said grinning.

  “Certainly, and their first round is on the house. I understand you gentlemen just arrived in Boonesborough. An accomplishment like that deserves more than ale at its end, but that’s all I have to offer,” said the genial owner of the Bear Trap. “I’ve been expecting a load of Marcus’ good whiskey, but it hasn’t arrived just yet. Will a tasty ale suit you?” The portly owner with a large red nose looked to Sam for an answer to his question.

  “Ale suits us fine.” He inclined his head in a gesture of thanks. “We appreciate your generosity, Sir,” Sam said and then introduced himself and the others. The tavern keeper’s name was Charles O’Hara.

  “I’ll be back, Sirs, with the best ales you’ve ever tasted,” O’Hara said, walking away.

  William nodded his blonde head vigorously. “He’s right, this ale is the best I’ve ever tasted, maybe because I was so thirsty and it’s been far too long since I’ve enjoyed one.”

  “Nope, it’s the water around these parts,” the man at the table said. “Nothing better than Kentucky water. Makes good whiskey too.”

  “Glad to hear it,” William said. “I want you three to meet my new acquaintance, Lucky McGintey. Lucky, these handsome fellows are my family—my two brothers, Captain Sam, and Stephen, and our adopted brother Bear McKee.”

  The man stood to shake their hands. Dressed much like Sam, Lucky wore a hunting shirt dyed black, buckskin leggings, and moccasins. He carried a pistol, tomahawk, and long knife in his leather belt and a well-used long rifle leaned against the table next to him. His powder horn appeared similar to theirs except that intricate and artistic carvings decorated it. A coonskin cap covered his long grey hair tied at the back of his neck in a queue pigtail. His sun-darkened skin bore the seasoned look of someone who had coped with the frontier for some time. Sam soon learned that the man had.

  William explained that Lucky was one of the first stouthearted men to come to the Kentucky frontier with Daniel Boone and that the man called himself a backcountry long-hunter, because of the far-reaching distances he covered in pursuit of wild game. Lucky supplied food for the settlement including wild bear, white-tailed deer, buffalo, elk, and wild turkey.

  “I truly fancy hunting,” Lucky said, patting his long rifle with fingers beginning to look gnarled with age. “It gives me a chance to get away from all this noise and commotion here in town.”

  Sam understood that for men like Lucky, the wild woods made them feel free and offered a chance for adventure. The rich forests held everything he needed to live—game and wild vegetables, fruit, nuts, and berries for food, natural brine salt licks, and hides for clothes. What few items nature didn’t provide, mostly tobacco and powder and ball for his rifle, could be bartered for here in Boonesborough or in one of Kentucky’s three other larger settlements centered around a fort—Lexington, Harrodsburgh, and Louisville.

  William patted his new friend on the back. “Lucky’s been a hunter and wagon driver for Daniel Boone and been captured by Indians three times. Escaped twice and released once. That’s why they call him Lucky,” William explained.

  “Aye. A man captured by natives three times and still alive to tell a yarn about it is indeed a mighty lucky fellow,” Bear declared.

  “Or exceedingly clever,” Sam said.

  Lucky winked a twinkling eye at Sam, acknowledging the compliment.

  William continued, “He was just telling me all about Boonesborough. Says the town now boasts a large tobacco warehouse for storage and inspection of tobacco crops, a post office, a newspaper, a fur trade operation, several busy stores, three taverns like this one, and a ferry operated by the Callaway family.”

  Lucky took a quick sip of his ale and then said, “That’s right, the town’s growing as fast as spring weeds. But Kentucky’s still the right place to be if you like the wilderness. Once you get away from Boonesborough, the place is a hunter’s paradise. There are so many buffalo, it looks as if the meadows will sink beneath their weight and there are so many turkeys, they can’t all fly at the same time.”

  The men all laughed. Even Sam managed a small chuckle.

  “Sir, why did you say ‘once you get away from Boonesborough’?” Bear asked.

  “Improvident woodsmen have driven away what used to be multitudes of big game. Now you have to hunt fifteen, twenty or even thirty miles from here for large game,” Lucky explained. “You carry a mighty long blade there, Captain. I’ve seen men shorter than that blade.”

  “It serves me well,” he said. “Makes it easy to hurt a man’s feelings.”

  “If you use that on a man, I doubt he’d be feeling much of anything,” Lucky said.

  “That’s what I mean,” Sam said.

  Lucky cackled until tears ran down his leathery face, covered with so many deep wrinkles going in every direction it rather resembled a map. “I don’t know about the rest of these gentlemen, but you’ll do just fine in Kentucky Captain.”

  Sam had a feeling Lucky was right. There was something about this new state that made him feel hopeful for the first time in a long while.

  “Is Daniel Boone in town?” Sam asked, remembering that Little John wanted to meet the man. He had to admit, he’d like to meet the legend too. Not because he was famous, but because he admired him.

  “No Sir. He’s facing some trouble with lawyers. The bastards are taking his land. Boone claimed one-hundred-thousand acres more or less, but failed to get legal title to it.”

  “I’m certain he was too busy fighting natives and protecting settlers,” Sam said. He remembered their stories well. The town’s first fighting force of thirty men and twenty boys, aided by the courage and marksmanship of the women, though far outnumbered, fought nobly for a place in the vast wilderness. Blackfish’s Shawnee, wanting to rid their hunting ground of the strange invaders, attacked the Fort repeatedly, butchered cattle and burned cornfields. The settlers became virtual captives trapped within the Fort’s walls. By the time Blackfish finally withdrew, the starving settlers barely clung to life. Nevertheless, the Fort, to its credit, and the surviving settlers, to their glory, did endure. Almost none who came afterward, though, would recall their names. Sam swore he
would never forget their sacrifices and their dauntless courage, including Colonel Boone’s.

  Lucky nodded in agreement with Sam. “Sadly, the Colonel’s footsteps have too often been through blood. And his nights were often dark and sleepless. Boone lost two of his own sons and a brother to savage hands. Almost lost his daughter Jemima too when she and two Callaway girls got stole away down by the river by a Cherokee-Shawnee raiding party. But we gave chase and finally got the young women back after two days.”

  “Were the girls hurt?” Stephen asked.

  “No, Jemima said the Indians were kind to them.”

  “So why are they taking Boone’s land?” Sam asked.

  “Lawyers are suing for his claims and it looks like the greedy weasels will succeed in defrauding him. Boone was so disgusted he transported himself and his wife to the mouth of the Little Sandy River in northeastern Kentucky. He has a nice cabin near here, but I don’t know if he’ll ever be back.”

  Little John would be sorely disappointed. Sam was himself. He had a lot of respect for Daniel Boone and the treatment of him that Lucky just described made him angry. He slapped his hand against the tabletop. “Fine way to repay the man for all he’s done settling this frontier. They ought to let those lawyers fight some Indians. Run them through the gauntlet.”

  “What’s a gauntlet?” William asked him.

  Sam turned to William. “From what I’ve read, Shawnees forced Boone to run the gauntlet. Native young men form two long rows and force their prisoner to run between them, beating their captive viciously with heavy sticks. Most men don’t survive, but Daniel escaped serious injury by surprising them and running in a zigzag pattern and butting the last warrior with his head, knocking him over,” Sam explained.

  “That’s what happened all right,” Lucky agreed. He cleared his throat and added, “After that, Chief Blackfish was so impressed he adopted Boone into the tribe, taking him to the river for a ceremony to ‘wash away’ his white blood. Daniel was so badly beaten up it washed away a lot of red blood too.”

  Sam bent his head and studied his hands as he thought about the irony of that bizarre bathing ritual. “Red or white, a man’s blood runs the same way in a river.” Then he took a long drink of his ale.

  “I’d like to see a lawyer run the gauntlet,” Lucky said.

  William lifted his blond head and sat up straighter. “Courts of law are gauntlets of the mind. It takes more skill to maneuver through them than most can imagine.”

  “I suppose you might be right about that,” Lucky admitted.

  “You said Kentucky was a hunter’s paradise,” Stephen said. “Looks to me like a cattleman would find it to his liking.”

  “What’s not mountains, or covered in forest so solid you can’t see daylight, is good land for grazing cattle. In fact, the Cherokee call Kentucky the Great Meadow. But most of the grass here gets turned into buffalo meat, not beef. Ain’t many here yet who have tried to raise up a herd. But the soil is fertile and I believe it will amply reward a man’s toil,” Lucky said. “The taste of a juicy beef steak is indeed a rare treat around here.”

  Just how many names did the natives have for Kentucky? ‘Land of Tomorrow’, ‘The Dark and Bloody Ground’, and now the ‘Great Meadow’. It seemed to Sam like even the Indians had a hard time figuring out this extraordinary place.

  Lucky took a long swallow of his ale, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said, “Pasture land’s already gettin’ scarce. Speculators buy it—run the price up. And a hell of a lot has gone out to veterans of the Revolution as compensation for service. I never found much use for land myself. At the end of my life, I’ll just have an old worn out saddle and about a thousand good stories.”

  “Indeed,” Sam said, chuckling. He admired Lucky and his way of life. But he was here to help his brothers. “Where do you suggest we try to settle?”

  “You’ll find some land that will suit you,” Lucky said, “but getting it won’t be easy, and you’ve got to be willing to go off quite a ways from this settlement and, if needed, fight for it.”

  Unprepared for what Lucky just said, Sam saw Stephen’s face cloud with uneasiness. Stephen was probably worried that he had brought Jane and his girls to even more danger, and he may have. They would certainly need to take great care when they selected and claimed their land.

  He gave Stephen a look telling him to calm down. Stephen rolled his eyes and then leaned back in his chair.

  Sam turned back to Lucky. “Are there any speculators that are honest, ones a man could trust?”

  “An honest speculator? Now that’s something to make a man scratch his head.” Lucky sniggered as he thought for a moment before continuing. “That man that brought William in here—Tom Wolf. He just left before you three came in. He has a reputation for honesty, despite his name. Don’t have any idea how much he’s selling land for though.”

  “I’ll be talking to the gentleman at the Land Office tomorrow,” Sam said, “about a Bounty Grant for my service in the Revolution.” He turned toward Stephen. “We’ll find some good cattle land near my land grant.”

  “The Land Office won’t open until the first of the month, but you should receive a larger and better grant because of your rank Captain. At least that’s what I’ve heard,” Lucky said.

  “Hope you’re right,” Sam said, lighting his pipe. He inhaled deeply, savoring the sweet and pungent smell.

  “I’m certainly disappointed that we have to wait several days,” Stephen grumbled.

  “Nothin’ to be done about that,” Bear said. “It’ll give you a chance to rest up some.”

  “I’m not interested in rest, I’m interested in land,” Stephen said, his expression darkening with worry.

  “I would advise you men to be more than a little careful about the land you choose. Men fight each other here over land about as often as they fight the Indians or fight over women. Maybe more,” Lucky said. “And don’t set your homes up too close to the river. Come a big rain here one night. That water really got to running. Washed out a number of folks.”

  Sam and Stephen exchanged glances. They would have thought of that, but it was a good reminder. He had read that the rivers here could crest far above their normal levels and their banks often spread beyond what people would expect.

  “There’s good land out yonder, but you have to go get it, it ain’t coming to you,” Lucky said.

  “Tell me, how far is yonder?” Sam asked, smiling at the man’s term.

  “Can’t tell you. It’s just where you need a horse to get to it,” the older man replied.

  On their way back to camp, Sam thought about Lucky and chuckled as he said, “That Lucky McGintey is a tough old fellow. He’s got a lot of bark on him.” He hoped they would meet again, maybe even become friends in the weeks ahead.

  “I didn’t like what he had to say. It would be a hell of a note to have come this far and not be able to get the land we need,” Stephen said, nearly growling.

  “It’s too soon to worry. Don’t borrow trouble,” William said. “In a few days we’ll find Mr. Wolf and seek his help. He told me where his office is, but said he would be gone for a few days visiting his son.”

  After that, the men hardly spoke at all until they reached their camp.

  Deep in thought, Sam let Stephen and William tell the others about their conversation with Lucky McGintey. For some reason, he couldn’t keep his eyes off Catherine as she listened intently to what his brothers said. What was she thinking? Was she considering finding her own land? Or was she going back to Boston? And why, for heaven’s sake, did the woman have to look so beautiful just sitting there? Her figure was curving and regal and her fiery eyes gleamed, full of life and warmth.

  “If Daniel Boone’s having trouble keeping his land, it makes me wonder how we’ll fare,” John said, sounding worried.

  Sam reluctantly forced himself to refocus his attention on the conversation.

  “It is difficult to comprehend,” Stephen
agreed. “The man is a legend.”

  “Even legends sometimes struggle with life, and the law,” William said.

  “We’ll get our land,” Sam pronounced, recognizing it sounded, even to him, more like a threat than a promise.

  Catherine glanced over at him, her eyes sharp and assessing. She remained motionless for a moment, then hugged her arms to her.

  As his eyes met hers, he saw a spark of some hidden emotion.

  If he wasn’t mistaken, it was longing.

  CHAPTER 5

  Sam carefully wiped the long maple stock of his Kentucky rifle. Keeping the rifle clean helped the weapon to perform well, and that could mean the difference between life and death.

  Like Sam, Stephen and William immediately fell in love with the weapon and both brothers sat next to him, cleaning their rifles as well. Before they left, he’d used most of his savings to purchase new Kentucky rifles, made by Pennsylvania gunsmiths, for each of the men and one for Jane as well. He taught them all to use the newly designed lighter rifles, and the exceedingly accurate weapons enabled them to protect themselves and to acquire a steady supply of food.

  “What makes these weapons so accurate?” Stephen asked.

  “First and foremost, the skill of the German gunsmiths in Pennsylvania. And, the long narrow barrel gives powder more time to burn, increasing the muzzle’s velocity and accuracy.”

  “I know you can shoot the wings off a bee a hundred yards away, but I need more practice with this rifle,” Stephen told him.

  “Preferably on four-legged creatures,” he said. “How about a hunt tomorrow?”

  “It might do us all good to just rest for a day or two. If Bear, William, and John will stay with the women and children, you and I can stretch our legs some. I feel like I’ve developed bow legs from sitting on George for so long,” Stephen said. “I never thought I could grow weary of being in the saddle, but I am beginning to think I am.”