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

by Dorothy Wiley

  “No.”

  “Ye could go somewhere far away from Kentucky and start a new honest life. God will forgive yer sins, even murder, if ye repent and sin na more.”

  “I don’t believe in God,” he said flatly.

  His voice was totally emotionless and it chilled her.

  Miller kept their pace hurried and they continued to trudge through the center of the creek for what must have been an hour. She couldn’t judge the time from the sun’s position because gray and pepper-colored clouds now packed the dull sky. Soon the watercourse forked and he told her to take the left fork. Within a mile or so, the water grew deeper, becoming a full-fledged stream, running bank full. The horses soon had to swim. Then it branched for a second time. Again, they took the left fork.

  Rain began to fall, and it showered just long enough to dampen everything and then it quit as quickly as it had started. Artis’ wet boots and soggy clothing, and the cool November day, made her shiver. It made her glad she’d grabbed her shawl as she’d left her bedroom. She wondered whether being cold would be the only thing she would have to endure today. She would give almost anything to be back safely in her home again.

  Finally, the terrain climbed upward and the stream became only a trickling brook scampering through rocks and pebbles. Along the shoreline, layer upon layer of limestone joined together to create a stalwart barrier to the tall woods beyond.

  “You and your horse can water here, but just for a minute,” Miller instructed. “And relieve yourself if you have a need.”

  She dismounted and threw Beautiful’s reins across the saddle and let her mare water. Artis knew Miller would keep watching her, but she ignored her mortification and forced herself to stoop down behind a waist-high boulder. When she finished, she washed her hands and face and then hastily gulped down some water. While she drank, she heard him relieve himself on the opposite bank. She took that time to look back, hopeful she would see Bear and William coming up the creek. But only disappointment filled her.

  “No sense looking for your man, just yet.”

  There was something odd in his tone that bothered her. Why did he say, ‘just yet’? But she ignored his taunt and leveled a stern look in his direction. “He’s a Scot. He’ll not only track me here, he’ll use his hatchet to relieve ye of yer head.” She plunged on carelessly. “And if ye touch me even once, he’ll likely relieve ye of yer manhood too!”

  Triumph flooded through her when he winced at her words.

  “Mount up,” he commanded.

  She took a few more sips of water and then a deep breath and tried to calm herself.

  She wanted to leave a piece of her gown or something for Bear to find, but Miller was watching her every move.

  They remounted and turned away from the stream weaving their way between the larger boulders and limestone lining the riverbank. Artis noticed that the ground was still pebble and rock covered where she exited the stream. Even if Bear made the right choices where the creek and stream had branched, he wouldn’t be able to tell where they crossed the bank. Miller had found a place completely devoid of vegetation. The horses could not trample anything down or leave a track on the thick layer of stones and gravel.

  That meant she was now on her own. Her life was in her own hands. As good a tracker as Bear was, he would never be able to track her here. But if Miller wanted to extract his revenge by killing her, why didn’t he just do the evil deed? Why take her so far away? Unless…unless his real target was Bear. But if that were the case, why was he making it so hard for Bear to follow? Perhaps Miller wasn’t. Was he leaving clues? If so, Miller was definitely cleverer than she had given him credit for being.

  She was suddenly anxious to escape. She chanced a glance behind her. He still held the gun aimed at her back. Part of her wanted to make a run for it. If he missed, Beautiful could easily outrun his horse. But if he didn’t, she would not only lose her life, she would lose her future with Bear. That would be worse. Much worse.

  Be patient. The right time will come.

  “Keep going,” he said, scowling at her.

  Artis squeezed Beautiful’s sides and urged her mare to a trot. Soon they were once again weaving through heavy woods and dodging low-hanging boughs and limbs. She wondered again, where they were going. She realized she would have to recall how to get back when she finally managed to get away. She made a point to study the landscape, marking landmarks in her mind. She had an excellent memory and thought she could remember her way back if she concentrated on memorizing the markers.

  “Pick up the pace,” he demanded.

  If Miller wanted her to pick up the pace, she would oblige him. Deliberately, she took Beautiful as fast as she dared—riding hard, twisting, and curling her way through the trees with the skill of a natural horseman. Burdette had been right about the horse’s training. Beautiful reined well and the mare skillfully made the sharp cuts and snaking zigzags.

  “Slow down,” he yelled.

  Artis smirked to herself as she brought her mount to a slower pace. She tossed her head back and eyed him with cold insolence. Then she stroked and patted the mare’s neck, thanking Beautiful for performing so splendidly.

  They continued on for miles in silence, the only sounds coming from the horses’ hooves and leathers.

  “Turn south,” he yelled without warning.

  She flinched at the sudden sound of his voice. She tugged Beautiful to a stop. “I thought we were goin’ south,” she said, deliberately sounding confused.

  “No, we were headed west,” he said, “go that way.” He pointed to his left. “Move.”

  Actually, Artis was fairly certain which direction they had traveled since leaving the stream, but she wanted to be sure. That knowledge could be important later when she made her way back to Highland.

  A few minutes later, Miller directed her into a steep ravine. They made their way through the gulch until she spotted an opening in the side of the canyon wall. A cave.

  The thought of being trapped in a cave with this man made her extraordinarily uncomfortable. She hated dark cramped spaces—especially caves. Her dismay grew when he dismounted and tied his weary horse nearby. But she remembered her resolve to stay strong and summoned her courage once again.

  “Get inside,” he ordered.

  She dismounted, tied Beautiful, and stared at Miller. She narrowed her eyes and met his icy gaze straight on. “We have to take care of the horses first. Your geldin’ is about to drop. They need to be unsaddled and allowed to water and graze.”

  “They can rest just fine standing right there for now.”

  She tossed her braid behind her back in defiance and placed her hands on her hips in a not so subtle challenge. She was tired from a lack of sleep last night and the long ride, cold, hungry, and thirsty. She was in no mood to be cooperative.

  He met her gaze without flinching. “Get inside,” he said again, pointing the way with the pistol.

  “Nay, I will not! It would na be proper.”

  Miller scoffed at her response. “To hell with proper,” he roared, “get inside now or I’ll properly skin you.”

  She stiffened and marched up a steep incline, over rocks and grass toward the darkness of the cave opening just as rain started to fall in earnest.

  Chapter 39

  Artis stood at the cave entrance unable to make her feet move.

  “Get in there,” Miller commanded, pushing at her back.

  “I can’t.”

  “You will unless you want to die right here and become food for the wolves tonight.”

  Artis let out a breath and took another deeper one. Old fears, large and looming, shadowed her mind. As a child, she’d found a cavern in the hills around her home. And, like all children full of curiosity, she just had to explore it. But she lost her way and spent hours trying to find her way out of the dark labyrinth, crying the entire time. When she finally did locate the exit, she swore she would never enter a cave again.

  “Please, do na m
ake me go in there,” she pleaded. She reached into her pocket and made a tight fist around the clan badge, hoping it would give her strength.

  “What are you afraid of? Ghosts?”

  She would rather face ghosts than the cave. “Can I just wait out here? I promise on my dear mother’s soul I will na run away.”

  Miller must have reached the end of his patience because he shoved her inside. Then he pushed her again, hard, and she stumbled and fell scraping her hands on the rough rocks.

  She peered around, her eyes wide and her heart thundering within her breast. For a few moments, she sat crouched, paralyzed with fear, and couldn’t move. The cave’s shadowy walls and black tunnel seemed to hide horrors that fed her panic. She forced herself to breathe deeply and clutched her gown’s skirt with her hands to keep from shaking. Then she remembered the clan badge and held it tight in her closed fist against her heart.

  Gradually, her terror lessened and she furtively studied the cave and her situation.

  Miller seemed to ignore her as he moved about and settled several things.

  The cave looked as though someone had previously occupied it. There were several pallets for beds, an overturned bucket, a coffee pot, some other gear, and signs of a previous cook fire.

  She eyed him apprehensively. “Why did ye bring me here, Mister Miller?”

  “You’re my bait. I didn’t really want to kill you. I want to murder the man who killed my brother. I wasn’t going to risk getting shot by him again, so while in jail, I concocted a plan—I’d lure him to our cave. I deliberately broke a branch or two to let them know what fork to take. At the other fork, I knew they would head toward the more isolated area, because they would think I would. And when we stopped to drink and then left the creek bed, I made it look like a piece of my shirt tore off on the boulder by the path we took.”

  “But if ye wanted them to find us, why make it so hard to follow us by goin’ through the water?

  “I could tell that sheriff and your man are smart fellows. I didn’t want to make it too obvious that I was setting up an ambush. I want them to ride right into my trap unawares and unsuspecting.”

  Yes, Miller was definitely far more cunning than she’d given him credit for being. He was as conniving as a weasel.

  He showed her where he’d torn off a piece of his shirt. “That and my fire should ensure that I lured that man of yours into my trap. From here, inside the cave and from this vantage point, I can shoot him with my long rifle from a fair distance as they approach. He’ll never know what hit him. And if that sheriff comes along, I got a piece of hot lead waiting for him too.” Miller’s mouth twitched with amusement.

  “Ye have a rifle here?” she asked warily.

  “No, I got four long rifles, and plenty of powder and lead too. Miller went further into the cave, reached up to a hidden spot just above his head, and pulled down a long package covered in oiled cloth. He sat it down and unwrapped it. “One of these belonged to my brother. The other two were our partners. We kept an extra set of weapons here. We used this cave as a hideout in between our gold gatherings and other robberies.”

  For the first time since he took her, Miller put his pistol back in its sheath on his belt. As Artis watched, he proceeded to load all four long rifles. Would one of those balls kill Bear? Or William? The thought made her want to scream.

  When Miller finished, he leaned all of them against the wall by the cave entrance. “I’ll probably only need two of these. I’m an excellent shot,” he bragged.

  Good God. From the cave’s elevated vantage point, Bear and William would be as vulnerable as two deer in the forest if they didn’t know Miller waited in the cave and was heavily armed. She would have to find a way to warn them.

  Or kill Miller. Could she do it?

  “I think I’ll to use my brother’s rifle to kill your man. I think he would have liked that.”

  Yes, she could kill him, she decided. She would have to.

  Bear’s heart leapt when he spotted what appeared to be a piece of fabric stuck on the sharp edge of a crevice in the limestone along the riverbank.

  He urged Camel to the spot and jumped off. Grabbing it, he examined the cloth. It was part of a man’s faded blue shirt. It did not look weathered so it could not have been there long. “I found somethin’! I think they left through this openin’ in the boulders,” he called over to William.

  “What did you find?” his brother asked, riding up on Smoke.

  He showed William the cloth and then handed him Camel’s reins.

  “I’m goin’ to proceed on foot until I pick up their trail again on the other side of these boulders. Follow, but na too close in case I miss a track and need to double back.”

  It took him but a few minutes to find the tracks again. The two horse’s had left clear prints in the damp leaves. He remounted and wove Camel through the thick woods as swiftly as he could without losing the trail.

  They were getting close. He could sense it. Maybe it was his heart sensing her heart. He just knew somehow that she wasn’t far away.

  Then the worst possible thing happened. It started to rain.

  “We’ve got to hurry,” he yelled to William. “We need to find them before this rain washes away their tracks.”

  Bear urged Camel to trot faster but continued to study the ground whirling past him. The rapid pace combined with looking down constantly became dizzying, but he forced himself to continue.

  The rain steadily increased and soon became a deluge. He heart felt like it was drowning.

  His chest tightened with dread. Right before his eyes, the tracks melted into the ground, disappearing forever.

  “No!” he shouted into the storm.

  Miller used his flint and firesteel to start kindling to flaming. Then he added wood from a pile stacked next to the cave wall. When he had a fire going, he made coffee.

  It didn’t surprise her that he built a fire. Miller wanted Bear and William to find them. He’d set his trap and was just waiting to spring it.

  Artis bit her lip, trying to quell her old fears about caves and her new distress for Bear and William. She needed to act soon. They might not be far behind.

  When the coffee finished brewing, Miller poured himself a cup and to her surprise offered one to her as well. Chilled and thirsty, she took a sip. It was so bad it could quality as coffin varnish—the expression the locals used for bad coffee.

  Miller made his way to the cave opening and hunched down. He sat there calmly drinking his coffee, waiting, watching.

  For Bear. For her husband.

  For William. Kelly’s husband.

  And little Nicole’s father.

  She had to do something!

  She sat the cup down, walked over, and stood behind him. “Mister Miller, ye can na shoot them in cold blood. At least be a man and stand up to them. Fight them face to face.” Perhaps if she appealed to his male pride, she could get him to abandon his plan to ambush Bear and William.

  “I’ll let the lead from these here rifles stand up to them. Far more effective.”

  “Please, what can I say to make ye change yer mind?”

  “Not a thing. Not a damn thing.”

  She would make one last effort. “Ye do na want to go to hell do ye?”

  “I imagine the devil, if there is one, is holding a hot seat for me there already. Nothing I do matters to anyone anymore.”

  It mattered to her. She knelt and reached down for her dirk. She had to do this. For Bear. For their unborn children. For Kelly and Nicole. She raised the blade, her hand quivering.

  She let out the tiniest cry just as she plunged the blade toward his back.

  It was enough to warn him. He spun away just in time, pushed her aside, and fell on his knees.

  She collapsed on her back, still clutching her dirk.

  Miller scampered to his feet and drew his pistol.

  She jumped up, whirled around, and sprang forward.

  As he took aim, she ran into th
e cave’s darkness.

  Chapter 40

  Bear’s stomach clenched at the echoing sound. He turned toward William. “Did ye hear that?”

  “Yes!” William hollered back.

  Bear took Camel to an all-out run toward the sound of the gunshot. It came from a ravine. Oh God, had Artis been shot again? The thought made his heart race and feel like it would explode with fear.

  William’s horse thundered behind him and then drew up alongside Camel. The rain stopped abruptly but they had to avoid several treacherous spots where water had pooled, hiding what lay beneath.

  “There,” William called and pointed to the canyon wall.

  The slightest trail of smoke and a dim light could be seen coming from within what looked like a cave.

  “Watch out,” Bear shouted. “A rifle is pointin’ our way.”

  Both men grabbed their rifles, jumped from their horses, and crouched behind a massive boulder, just as a bullet struck the same rock. With an experienced warrior’s eye, Bear assessed their surroundings and the situation.

  “It must be Miller,” William said. “Where did he get a rifle?”

  Bear didn’t wait to answer the question. He was already moving forward, wanting to get closer before the man reloaded. But without delay, another lead ball followed the first. The shot missed him by a hair’s breadth and made his heart race even harder as he crouched behind a brush covered limestone rise.

  This time William dashed toward Bear and another shot nearly hit him.

  “Damn. How many loaded rifles does that man have?” William swore.

  “At least three too many,” Bear answered, his muscles still quivering from William’s near brush with death. “It’s time we gave him a taste of his own medicine.”

  Like William, Bear kept his rifle under an oiled cloth on his horse, but that was no guarantee it would work after the downpour. Hoping his powder was still dry, he lined up his sights. But he could not get a fix on Miller. “I can na see him, he must be reloadin’.”

  “Shoot anyway, then leave your rifle. I’ll fire mine, while you move further forward,” William said. “Then I’ll reload and fire both rifles when you’re ready to charge into the cave.”