by Merry Farmer
“And where is your dear sister?” Katie asked. “I’ve been wanting to meet her.”
Emma shrugged. “She left the fort over two weeks ago with a young militiaman named Jarvis Flint. They set out to try to settle a land dispute between two ranches a few days’ ride north of here. We haven’t heard from them yet.”
“And we won’t hear from them standing around here,” Katie’s mother interrupted. “Let’s get the two of you scrubbed and fed and settled in, shall we?”
The party that had gathered moved on into the center of the fort. Dean took Aiden off to the fort’s small infirmary to make sure his wound was in good shape. Katie followed her mother and Emma to a barracks where the women and children were staying. She bathed and ate while her mother hovered around her, and changed into one of her own dresses. It was almost a shame to set the beautiful Cheyenne wedding tunic aside, but her mother promised to take good care of it.
An hour later, she was finally able to set out across the fort to look for Aiden. She found him wandering amongst the row of barracks, poking his head in each one.
“Aiden Murphy, whatever are you doing?” she laughed at him.
He stepped away from the building he had just looked into and burst into a wide smile. There was as much joy as heat in his eyes as he limped the rest of the way down the lane dividing the rows of barracks to sweep her into his arms. She yelped as he tugged her off her feet and planted a passionate kiss on her smiling mouth.
“That’s what I’ve been missing,” he said.
“It’s only been an hour,” she chuckled, wrapping her arms around his torso. He was strong and firm. Her body remembered the feel of him above her, around her, inside of her. With a reluctant sigh, she realized it could be weeks until she could feel him like that again. Unless she crept out in the middle of the night and stole her way into his bed. Which wouldn’t be such a bad idea, come to think of it.
“When you get that look in your eyes, a ghrá, I tremble to think what adventure you’re plotting next,” he said. He kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose, and finally her lips.
“Oh, you’ll tremble, all right,” she told him, wickedness in her voice.
“I like the sound of that.” His mouth slanted down over hers, parting her lips and teasing her tongue. It was so wonderful, so right, that she did nothing but kiss him back, pressing her fingertips into his back. He pulled back and looked at her, one eyebrow raised. “What, no protest? No arguing?”
“No,” she told him. “Not about this.” She squeezed him tight. “Never about this. You’re right. We’ve been missing this for far too long.”
He kissed her again, ignoring a whistle from one of the passing militiamen who caught them at it. Katie was too happy to be standing right where she was, doing exactly what she wanted to do, to care. That is, until Aiden jerked his lips away from hers.
“What?” she asked, frowning, ready to argue him into kissing her until neither of them could think.
“Will you marry me, Katie Boyle?”
Katie blinked, brow flying up. “Like that? Just like that?”
He nodded, grin spreading across his handsome face.
“No romantic moonlight walk? No love poems? Not even a special song?”
“No, none of those things.”
“No golden ring or token of affection?”
“None,” he said, smiling down at her as if the sun had burst from the clouds.
She huffed out a breath. “And you expect a girl to say yes to a proposal without any of those things?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I don’t expect any girl to say yes without those things, but I know you, Katie my love. I know that you don’t need poems or songs, because our love will write the songs. I know you don’t need tokens and flowers, because we have the whole world waiting for us. I know you don’t need a night of romance, because every step we take and every adventure we set out on will be romance itself. I was meant for you and you were meant for me, and I want to spend the rest of my life as your husband and nothing else.”
His words filled her heart and soul to the brim, so much that she could hardly breathe. She wanted all that and more, and knew that Aiden would stop at nothing to give it to her, just as she would do anything to give it to him. She should have known from the start.
“Well then, Aiden Murphy,” she sighed, her voice thick with the fire that burned deep in her core. “How can I help but say yes?”
“You can’t,” he teased her with a wink.
How she loved him for that teasing. “Come here, you daft fool,” she said, threading her fingers through the hair at the back of his head and pressing up into him. “Come here and kiss me.”
Want more? Curious about Emma’s sister, Alice, and the militiaman, Jarvis Flint, who she rushed off with? And what is that land dispute between ranchers about anyhow? You’ll find answers to all this and more as Hot on the Trail continues with Trail of Destiny. Keep clicking to read a sneak peek!
Author’s Note
Few of the novels I’ve written have involved so much fascinating research. I would like to acknowledge the brilliant book The Cheyenne Indians: Their History and Lifeways, by George Bird Grinnell as my primary and most excellent resource. Grinnell lived from 1849 – 1938. He lived intimately with the Cheyenne for much of his life. His book is a first-hand account of the experiences he had and the Cheyenne that he knew. The version of the book that I read is a compilation of several works that were published in the first decades of the 20th century. It is truly an amazing book which gave me a tangible sense of what life was like for the Cheyenne before, during, and after the year when Trail of Dreams takes place.
About the Author
I hope you have enjoyed Trail of Dreams. If you’d like to be the first to learn about when the next books in the series come out and more, please sign up for my newsletter here: http://eepurl.com/RQ-KX And remember, Read it, Review it, Share it!
Merry Farmer is an award-winning novelist who lives in suburban Philadelphia with her two cats, Butterfly and Torpedo. She has been writing since she was ten years old and realized one day that she didn't have to wait for the teacher to assign a creative writing project to write something. It was the best day of her life. She then went on to earn not one but two degrees in History so that she would always have something to write about. Her books have topped the Amazon and iBooks charts and finalled in the prestigious RONE and Rom Com Reader’s Crown awards.
You can email her at [email protected] or follow her on Twitter @merryfarmer20.
Merry also has a blog, http://merryfarmer.net,
and a Facebook page, www.facebook.com/merryfarmerauthor
Acknowledgements
I would never be able to do what I do without the help of some fabulous people. I’d like to thank my amazing beta-readers, Keira Montclair, Margaret Brashears, and Ashley Merrick for their amazing suggestions and advice. I have to thank my fabulous editor, Aven Rose, once again for helping me go beyond what I thought I was capable of. And finally, where would I be without the Mistress of Badass herself, my publicist Anne Chaconas, and the whole Badass Marketing team.
And a special thank you to the Pioneer Hearts group! Do you love Western Historical Romance? Wanna come play with us? Become a member at https://www.facebook.com/groups/pioneerhearts/
Trail of Destiny
By Merry Farmer
Chapter One
Wyoming Territory, 1863
Alice Porter was weary. Exhausted to the core of her soul. As her family’s wagon rumbled on over wilderness and wheel ruts worn by decades of prairie schooners traveling the same route, she considered that she might just qualify as a tragic, romantic heroine in some thrilling story of adventure. But there was nothing adventurous about her life, not as she saw it. Death, loss, heartbreak. That was it. That was all she had to look forward to.
“Fort Bridger,” their wagon trail’s trail boss, Mr. Pete Evans, called somewhere outside of the stifling canvas coveri
ng of Alice’s wagon. “Fort Bridger ahead.”
Alice pushed aside her maudlin thoughts and muscled herself to sit. She shouldn’t have been riding in the wagon to begin with, much less sleeping. Not that she’d truly been able to sleep. The weather had been so hot for the past few days that even under the shade of the wagon’s canvas, sleep was a distant possibility. Her father had indulged her where he shouldn’t have, but really, she couldn’t blame him. Her whole family had worried about her every sigh, her every tear, and her every listless look since Harry died.
Harry. Alice slumped against the pile of crates that held what was left of her family’s supplies and swallowed her grief. Dear Harry. He had been so handsome, so earnest. He had been a junior clerk in her father’s trade business when she met him, hardly her equal. Harry was smart and ambitious, though. He’d risen through the ranks to senior clerk, and he would have risen higher, if not for the war.
Alice fought down her misery the only way she could, by pushing to her knees and busying herself arranging the boxes and barrels and chests of belongings in the back of the wagon. She had to keep busy, had to keep busy the way Harry always had. She had been miles above him in social status, but war changed things. When he enlisted in the Union army, Harry had come to her and asked for her hand in marriage. She’d accepted. Her parents hadn’t. So they’d eloped.
“Ouch,” she hissed as a crate smashed into her fingers when the wagon hit a bump.
“Are you all right back there, my dear?” her father murmured over his shoulder from where he sat driving the oxen from the front of the wagon. He sounded as exhausted as Alice felt.
“I’m fine, Papa,” she answered. It was the answer she gave to every question, even when it was a lie. She would never be fine again.
Her parents had been furious when she and Harry told them, and her sister, Emma, that they had married. By that point, there was nothing anyone could do about it, and Harry had marched off to join his regiment the next day. Two nights was all they’d had together. Two glorious, magical nights. The letter had come only four months later, regretting to inform Alice that Sergeant Henry Porter had been killed in battle at a place called Antietam.
Alice’s life had ended that day.
“Fort Bridger,” Mr. Evans called again from somewhere up the line of wagons. “Get yourselves ready to line up and follow orders.”
Alice took a deep breath, then another for good measure, and crawled up to the front of the wagon. The canvas covering hung loose around the opening near the bench where her father sat. It needed to be repaired and stretched over the tall wooden bows that gave the covering its shape, but she wouldn’t have known where to start with those repairs. Her sister, Emma, would have quietly figured something out, but Emma and their mother had stayed behind on the Nebraska prairie when Emma’s ankle was injured in a terrible storm. It was just her and Father now.
“Father,” she said as she grabbed the back of his seat for support and stood as straight as she could in the cramped space. “We need to find someone to help us make repairs on our wagon at the fort.”
“Mmm,” her father answered.
“I should repair a few rips in the canvas too,” she added. Her own voice was strange to her, tired and weak. What had happened to the lively, daring girl she’d been? The one that dared to run off with a man her parents disapproved of?
She knew the answer to that question all too well.
“At the fort, we’ll….” Her father’s attempt to speak faded into silence.
Alice frowned, dragging her attention away from her own problems and focusing on him. She rested a hand on his stooped shoulder. He was slumped against the seat, and she could feel the heat of his body, far hotter than even the extreme summer weather warranted, through his shirt.
“Papa?” She leaned as far forward as she could to try to get a glimpse of her father’s face. It was pale and drawn. “Oh dear, Papa, are you feeling all right?”
“Yes, yes,” he grunted, waving her away. “I’m fine.”
It was as big a lie as the one she told herself.
Alice scurried to the back of the wagon as her father slowed it to a halt. She pushed aside the canvas flap strung across the back of the wagon and searched for the proper footing to help herself down. All around her, wagons were fanning out and finding spots to park around the outskirts of a modest fort. As far as Alice could see, most of her fellow travelers were smiling with relief and excitement. They’d been walking constantly across the Wyoming wilderness for more than a week now, and any chance to rest at a fort was a blessing.
Interspersed among her fellow pioneers were men in simple uniforms. A lump formed in Alice’s throat, but she forced it away. These were not soldiers, even though Fort Bridger was a military installation. Most of the soldiers had gone east to fight the war. She’d overheard Mr. Evans telling her father and a few other men that the western outposts were manned by militia now, men from the west who were not part of the military, only filling in while they were gone. They looked a bit like replacements with their mismatched uniforms, scruffy beards, and overgrown hair.
“Here, ma’am, let me help you.”
Alice’s observations were cut short by a tall, handsome militiaman with hair as long as hers, caught in a ponytail at the back of his head.
“I….” She hesitated, one foot balanced on the back of the wagon, the other still in the bed, gripping the last bow for balance.
“It’s no trouble at all,” the long-haired man said. He had clear, blue eyes, like the sky, and a kind smile. Before she could protest, he reached up, gripped her around the waist, and lifted her right out of the wagon.
The strength in his arms sent a giddy tremor through her. He must have seen the fear in her eyes, because he drew her close and steadied his arms around her once her feet were on the ground, giving her a moment to find her balance.
“Are you all right, ma’am?” he asked, keeping his arms where they were.
She glanced up at him. Strong, clean-shaven jaw, gentle smile. His uniform was clean and the shirt collar crisp. He smelled of leather and the outdoors, but it wasn’t unpleasant. A faint, hollow pulse ticked against her ribs.
“I’m fine,” she gave her standard reply, lowering her eyes.
“Good,” he answered, then let her go. “I can help you with your things if—”
“No. I’m fine.”
She stepped away from the militiaman, pressing a hand to her stomach. Perhaps she was hungry. Or maybe she was ill. That had to explain the odd feeling in her gut.
There was no time to dwell on the odd feeling. She smoothed her black skirts, brushed a stray wisp of blond hair away from her face, and marched to the front of the wagon. The oxen were already chewing parched grass in the spot where they had stopped to rest. All up and down the line of wagons, oxen were grabbing a bite to eat as the militiamen helped their owners to get organized. A few children were already running up to the palisade to peer through the cracks at the whitewashed buildings of the fort.
“It’s bigger than Fort Caspar,” Alice commented as she reached the front of the wagon. “I hope they have a supply depot. We could use a few more—”
She stopped when she saw her father crumpled in the wagon’s seat. His skin was pale and dry, and he’d dropped the long-handled whip he’d been using to direct the oxen.
“Papa,” she shouted, hopping up on the edge of one of the front wagon wheels, the only foothold available. “Papa, what’s wrong?”
As soon as she touched her father, shook him, he groaned and tried to sit straighter.
“I’m fine, sweetheart. Just a little tired. Just a little….”
He slumped again. Alice jumped down from the wheel and twisted, searching every which way for help, her heart caught in her throat.
“Help, somebody, help,” she called out, too stunned to shout. “My father. Help.”
Other Works by Merry Farmer
The Noble Hearts Trilogy
The Loyal
Heart
The Faithful Heart
The Courageous Heart
Montana Romance
Our Little Secrets
Fool for Love
In Your Arms
Somebody to Love
Sarah Sunshine – A Montana Romance Novella
The Indomitable Eve – A Montana Romance Novella
Seeks For Her – A Montana Romance Novella
Hot on the Trail
Trail of Kisses
Trail of Hope
Trail of Longing
Trail of Dreams
Trail of Destiny (coming April 2015)
Trail of Redemption (coming June 2015)
Trail of Chances (coming July 2015)
Trail Blaze – a prequel novella (coming May 2015)
Second Chances
(contemporary romance)
Summer with a Star (coming March 2015)
One Night with a Star (coming summer 2015)
