Frontier Highlander Vow of Love (American Wilderness Series Romance Book 4)

by Dorothy Wiley

  “In town, lockin’ the bastard up in his jail.”

  “I can see that you got caught in this terrible storm,” Kelly said, putting a now quiet Nicole back down on her bed. “You look a bit worse for wear.” She handed him a towel to dry off.

  He ran the towel across his face once and then tossed it aside. “Aye. Camel and I had to swim across high water. But that does na matter now.”

  His mind burned with worry. He could think of nothing else.

  “Nevertheless, I’m glad you’re here and that you are all right,” she said, gathering up the bloodied cloths and Artis’ soiled clothing. She tossed the cloths into the fireplace and put the gown into a bucket full of water to soak.

  The sight of the gown made his belly knot. Like Artis, its beauty was made heart-rending by blood.

  Bear towed a chair up next to the bed and just stared at Artis. He loved her. He couldn’t lose her. Not now. Not ever. He struggled to hold his raw emotions in check as he gently stroked the top of her head.

  “Talk to her,” McGuffin urged kindly. “Sometimes the voice of a loved one will keep them from slipping to the other side.”

  A startling realization washed over Bear as he realized he was her only ‘loved one’. The thought filled him with an overwhelming need to help her. He leaned closer to her ear and spoke in a soft whisper. “Ye’ve got to get better wife. As soon as ye do, we’ll start buildin’ our home. We’ll put it right on top of that hill on yer place—I mean our place—we’ll call it Highland House.” He heard his own voice break, as was his heart, but he forced himself to continue. “And we’ll build it just as ye want it. With lots of room for all the wee bairns we’ll have. You’ll find happiness there for many years to come. Remember my pledge. I’ll love ye forever, and ever, and ever…and a wee bit more.”

  He had also pledged his protection. But he’d failed her already. They hadn’t even been married one evening, for heaven’s sake. She’d lain, all alone in the back of the wagon, with her lifeblood spilling out of her while he’d been gone. How could he have been so negligent? Yes, it was dark, but he should have made sure she was all right after the robber fired his weapon. His carelessness filled him with self-loathing and sent his temper soaring.

  Vexed, he clenched his hand until his nails bit into his palm. He wanted to hit the man that did this to his wife. Aye, they were married right enough—and always would be, by God. He stood and pounded his fist on the nearby table, turning over the candlesticks Kelly had just righted.

  The sudden noise caused Kelly to jump a bit and then she started straightening things again. He sat down again and watched her for a moment. The candlesticks were not the only things in disarray. A bucket by the door was knocked over, a stool lay on its side, and several trenchers and tankards were scattered on the floor. A few of the strings of dried apples, peppers, and ginseng roots, hanging from the ceiling lay on the floor. Everywhere he glanced, something was out of place. Normally, the cabin was neat and organized.

  He abruptly realized Mister McGuffin looked like someone had beaten him. He’d been so troubled about Artis, he failed to notice the man’s scrapes, bruises, and torn clothing.

  Kelly was acting strangely too. She was normally a strong woman, but he could see her hands trembling.

  He sprung up, realizing something else was terribly wrong. “What happened here?”

  He stared at McGuffin expecting an answer, but the man just cleared his throat, scrubbed a hand over his face, and looked away.

  A brittle silence enveloped the room and the air grew tight with the tension he sensed from both Kelly and her father. Had the man started drinking to excess again?

  “Kelly, stop what yer doin’. I asked ye both a question. Answer me lass. What happened here?”

  Kelly peered up at him, but still didn’t answer. Her words seemed stuck in her throat.

  “Damn it! Someone tell me what the hell happened.”

  “Bear, please sit down. I’ll tell you everything from the beginning,” Kelly said. She appeared tired and haggard and let out a long sigh.

  “I do na want to sit,” he growled.

  She bit her lip and stared away, her eyes sparkling with tears demanding to be shed. She poured a cup of coffee and handed it to him. “You must be cold,” she said, her words and her hands shaky.

  “Nay, na longer.”

  Kelly was clearly distraught. Why? He sat down, not wanting to upset her further, but the muscles in his arms and shoulders tensed even more.

  Something else had happened and they didn’t want to tell him about it.

  Chapter 24

  William arrived at the Fort in a foul mood. He did not like riding a horse he was unfamiliar with. And riding the mount in terrible weather, with a thunderstorm booming overhead, and the gelding bearing the weight of the prisoner too, made the trip back to Boonesborough slow and far from pleasant. The horse had shied at the lightning more than once and side-stepped far too many times, trying to rid himself of the added weight. He finally decided to dismount to make it easier on the weary animal. Trudging through the sticky mud and driving rain, head bent against the wind, he led the gelding the last mile or so. Never had a mile seemed so long.

  William’s best clothes were soaked and his tall black boots were brown with mud. He was so chilled even his teeth trembled. All he wanted to do was toss this man into a jail cell and lock him up for the night. Maybe for good.

  Bear had wisely wounded the robber instead of killing him, and the man would need medical care. But first, William needed to see what this man knew about where the robbers hid the state’s gold.

  After tying the horse in front of the blockhouse, he yanked the still knocked out fellow off and then drug him inside his office. He dropped the dripping wet man on the wooden floor. Leaving the prisoner tied securely, he went upstairs to wake his deputy. William provided the young man with quarters in the blockhouse as part of his salary.

  William hurried downstairs and found the robber moaning. He was sure this one deserved to suffer, but he would get him medical care as soon as he got the information he needed.

  When Mitchell joined him, he briefly explained to the deputy what had happened. Then, grabbing the robber’s feet and arms, they carried him to the next room and put him in one of the dirt-floor cells fitted with bars and padlocks. After untying the ropes, he locked the jail securely, and returned to the office.

  “I could sure use a fire and some coffee deputy,” William requested. “Hopefully it will also wake this bloke up and we’ll get him to talking.”

  As the rain continued to drum against the roof and the thunder rumbled overhead, he removed his soaking tricorne and hung it on an antler hat rack by the door. Then he took a moment to pour the rainwater from his muddy boots and set them aside to dry out. He hung his wet coat on the back of a chair, dried his face off, and reloaded his pistol with dry powder.

  While William changed into a spare shirt he kept in his office drawer, the deputy scraped flint against a firesteel to light some kindling and soon had a small fire going in the office’s undersized hearth. Before long, the strong smell of the coffee brewing did help to wake the robber.

  “Where am I?” the man asked in a voice so weak William barely heard it.

  William grabbed the handbill off his desk and, followed by Mitchell, strode into the room that held the cells. “I’m Sheriff Wyllie and you’re in my jail,” he answered.

  He could see the prisoner through the bars. He looked pale, cold, and obviously in pain. “We know who you are—the fourth robber of the state’s treasury.” William held up the handbill so the thief could see the drawing depicting the four men. “And many other pilferings have been attributed to you and your three dead cohorts.”

  “One of them was my younger brother,” the man hissed, his fervent anger rapidly bringing him to life.

  “All three were killed while committing an armed robbery. We don’t abide stealing in Boonesborough.”

  “Go to he
ll.”

  “What’s your name?” Deputy Mitchell asked.

  “You can go to hell too,” the man shot back.

  “All right, we’ll just call you Mister Thief,” William said. “I have a ‘T’ brand hanging right over there that has in the past been used to brand the hands of thieves.” William had never used the brand himself, but didn’t want this man to know that. “Perhaps Judge Webb will order branding as part of your punishment, Mister Thief.”

  “I want a doctor. Get this lead out of my shoulder,” Mister Thief demanded. “And get me some dry clothes. I’m freezing.” The man’s teeth were rattling.

  The robber’s tone was belligerent and William was in no mood for either defiance or demands. “There are four classes of punishment Judge Webb imposes—fines, public shame, physical chastisement such as whipping, and death. I have a feeling you have all four in your future,” William said.

  “That coffee sure smells good,” Mitchell said. “Would you like some sheriff?”

  “Indeed, I would,” William said.

  For a few minutes, they both sipped the fragrant brew in front of Mister Thief. William leaned comfortably against the wall and he could see the man swallowing and licking his lips, craving the hot coffee.

  “Can I have some of that?” the thief finally asked in a meek voice.

  “Only cooperative prisoners get coffee,” William said. It was bait that hid a hook. “But we have a barrel of stale water over there if you want a dipper full.”

  Mister Thief pinched his lips and glared at William. “My name is Jacob Miller.”

  “Is that your real name?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you, Mister Miller.” William said. “Deputy, please get the man a cup of coffee.”

  As the deputy retrieved a cup, William asked, “Where did you and the others hide the gold you stole from the state treasury?”

  Miller just stared at William. “If I tell you that, what do I get?”

  “First, a doctor. I’ll send my deputy to wake the town physician now instead of waiting until morning. That way you won’t bleed all night and it will be less likely to fester.”

  “And?” Miller asked, through narrowed eyes.

  “And, I’ll tell Judge Webb that you cooperated during questioning,” he answered. “Perhaps that will cause the good judge to not send you straight to the gallows.”

  “Only perhaps?”

  “Well, Judge Webb has a well-earned reputation for being an intolerant and impatient judge. I cannot guarantee what he has in store for you. But if I were in your boots, I’d sure try to win his favor.”

  Mitchell passed a cup of steaming coffee through the bars and the man took it with his uninjured arm.

  William knew it wouldn’t be long before the bleeding worsened if the lead weren’t removed soon and the shoulder stitched up.

  “Where’s the gold?” William asked again.

  “I might as well tell you. You’ll find it anyway,” Miller reluctantly answered. “It’s in my saddle bag. I was going to take off for Tennessee after I robbed the four of you and took my revenge on that fellow who killed my brother.”

  No wonder the horse had such difficulty. The poor animal had been carrying the weight of two men and the gold. It had been raining so hard he never took the time to look inside the two saddle bags. The gold had been hidden in plain sight.

  “Deputy, go outside and bring in the saddle bags hanging on that horse. Then take the weary animal to the stables and see that he’s feed properly, watered, and sheltered from the storm. Give him a thorough wipe down too.”

  “You’ll say a good word for me?” Miller implored, returning William’s attention to the robber.

  “I’ll let the judge know you revealed where the gold was and anything else you’re willing to tell me.”

  “And the doc?”

  “As soon as he gets back from tending to your horse, I’ll send my deputy to fetch the doctor.”

  William shut the outer door to the jail and eyed his still scrawny deputy as he drug in the weighty bags leaving a trail of water behind them on the wooden floorboards. “Thanks deputy, I’ll take it from here. Please tend to the robber’s poor horse as quickly as you can and then fetch the doc.”

  After Mitchell left, William inspected the well-soaked leather saddle bags sitting in the middle of his office floor.

  He opened one bag. The thief had told the truth. The shining gold coins glittered in the dim light of William’s oil lamp. The heavy bags held a mixture of gold eagles, half eagles, and quarter eagles. William knew the coins in the dazzling assortment were eleven twelfths pure gold, the same 22 karats level as English crown gold.

  Governor Garrard would be well pleased. He needed a safe place to store the gold. He used his knife to pry up one of the floor boards under his desk and tucked the weighty bags inside.

  He retrieved writing materials so he could make an accurate list for the judge and went back to question Miller. “Now, I want you to tell me what other robberies you four committed and where,” William demanded.

  Once he had the list, he would send messages via the postal rider to each of the towns’ sheriffs and determine if any murders had been committed during the robberies. He wouldn’t be surprised to find out that the four committed numerous slayings.

  If this were the case, he had a feeling Miller would wind up hanging despite his cooperation.

  With his quill and another cup of coffee in hand, he sat at a rickety pine table against the wall in the narrow jail room and Miller began relating a lengthy list of crimes. It was going to be a long night and he wouldn’t be going back to Whispering Hills anytime soon.

  Bear and Artis would just have to wait to get married.

  He hoped his brother would not be too distraught.

  Chapter 25

  Kelly sat across the table and Bear waited for her to begin. She seemed to be choosing her words carefully. For several minutes he listened to her relate what had happened when she arrived at the cabin. A man named Steller had been waiting here for Artis, holding a pistol on her father. The name lingered around the edges of his mind as he continued listening to Kelly. Then he remembered where he had heard the name before—from Artis. His father taught him to forgive his enemy, but remember the bastard’s name. So he’d made a point to remember the name of the man who had caused Artis so much grief. “Wait, did ye say the man’s name was Steller?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “He’s the devil that slit her mother’s throat!” It was no wonder Artis drug herself out to the smokehouse. She must have been terrified.

  “Murdered her mother?” Kelly asked, her eyes widening.

  Plainly, Kelly had not overhead the conversation he’d had with Artis in the back of the wagon on their way to town for the delegates’ meeting.

  “Aye. And the devil drove Artis and her village from Scotland. He burned many other Highland towns to the ground to make room for sheep farmin’.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me. The man is beyond cruel. If he’d found Artis, he would have taken her with him, despite her severe wound.”

  The questions mounted in Bear’s mind. “Why? Why did he come all this way for her and how did he find her? And why would he want to take her with him?”

  Kelly turned her pensive face away from him.

  He reached out and put a hand on her forearm. “Tell me lass.”

  “Oh, Bear. I don’t want to be the one to tell you.”

  “Tell me what?” He tried to stay calm, but he was losing his patience. The veins in his neck throbbed and strained against his skin. Why was she being so perplexing?

  Kelly rubbed her lips with her fingers as if to hold in her words. Then she took a deep breath and shot the words out. “Steller says she is his wife.”

  Her words thrust through him like a knife to the heart. He felt as if his breath were cut off. He withdrew his hand from her arm. It started shaking. He was glad he was sitting down because he mig
ht have fallen down, so great was his shock. Could it be true? The question hammered painfully on his heart. He’d known Artis only a few days and had no way of knowing if everything she’d told him were true. Was it the worst sort of naiveté, even madness, to believe everything she’d said was true? All the tenderness he sensed coming from her, was it genuine? Had he unwisely rushed into marrying her? Did he give his heart to a married woman?

  His entire body knotted, his muscles twisting and tightening, as he sat there considering Steller’s outrageous claim. He ignored the mocking voice inside his mind that repeated ‘she’s his wife,’ over and over. Another more forceful voice answered ‘nay, she’s my wife’ again and again.

  He gazed over at Artis, lying on the bed, fighting for her very life. She looked so pale and helpless. His mind replayed everything she’d told him over the last few days. In his mind, he heard every word of the pledge she made to him. Her vow felt as true as God’s word. He tasted the sweetness of her kisses again. He felt her warmth against his chest. He touched their clan crest. It all meant something. Everything.

  And, somehow, with complete clarity, he knew he could trust her.

  He pushed back from the table and stood. He would give no credence to anything Steller said. The man was the vilest sort of human—capable of anything. Lying would come naturally and easily to him. It was nothing more than a despicable lie.

  “Nay, I do na believe the loathsome man. He’s lyin’,” Bear said fiercely. “I trust her. I trust her heart. She said she loved me and only me and I believe her.”

  Kelly’s eyes widened. “Oh Bear, I know you’re right. Artis would never have married a man like that. I haven’t known her long, but I trust her too.”

  “So do I,” McGuffin agreed. “But I don’t trust Steller. Bear, the man nearly killed Nicole trying to force Kelly to reveal where Artis was. What kind of man could kill a child?”

  “The kind that dies by my hand,” Bear said harshly. “Na sir ‘s na seachan an cath. Neither seek nor shun the fight. Steller came here seeking Artis to hurt her again. I’ll na give him the chance.”