Love So Deep

by Kathleen Ball

  Love So Deep

  Kathleen Ball

  Copyright © 2018 by Kathleen Ball

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Love So Deep is dedicated to my readers. Thank you for all of your support. Thank you Jean Joachim for the great title. I want to thank everyone in the Pioneer Hearts Group on Facebook. Thank you Vicki Locey for all your encouragement. Thank you Heather Crispin from Livin’ Large Farms for all the love you give to my rescue horse Sparrow. You’ve taken a frightened starved horse and given her happiness. I dedicate this book to my loves, Bruce, Steven, Colt and Clara because I love them.

  Contents

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  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  The End

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  Whispered Love

  About the Author

  Other Books by Kathleen

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  Chapter One

  Samantha tried wrapping her scarf around her head, but the weight of the hardened ice kept dragging it down. The naysayers were right, winter came early—very early and with a vengeance. She stared at the pure white snow dotted with Ponderosa pines. Their branches bowed from the snowy burden. She’d doubted her survival the minute they banned her from the wagon train but as she walked away, she grew determined to survive. What a difference a few weeks made. As soon as the storm hit two days ago, her doubts returned.

  She took a step and stumbled. The hem of her dress, caked with icy snow, made it hard going. With each step, her feet punched through the snow and sank. Her hands stung from the biting cold. Soon she wouldn’t feel them anymore. She knew the signs of frostbite. Pushing herself upright she struggled on, one exhausting step at a time.

  The wind howled and she wanted to cry at its sad song. She’d been on her own for two long weeks now. How she hated the pious women she’d traveled with. The death of her parents left her alone and a woman alone was not allowed on the wagon train. The married women believed she’d entice their husbands. The same women whose children she nursed when they were sick. The hypocrisy ate at her soul.

  It was either marry Old Thomas or leave. She refused to marry, calling their bluff. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a bluff. They threw her a sack of food and a canteen of water and left her behind.

  Again, she fell face first into the snow. Struggling to rise, she shook her head. Maybe it’d be easier to just lay there and fall into a forever sleep. Her food was long ago eaten and her strength had held out surprisingly long, but now she wasn’t sure it was worth the effort.

  A horse nickered and she pushed herself up. Her heart skipped a beat in fright. On the horse sat a huge man covered in animal furs. His rifle lay across his lap.

  “Get up,” he said, his voice full of anger.

  Samantha pushed and struggled until she stood. This was it. She just hoped her death would be painless. Putting her frigid hands on her hips, she brazenly studied him. His slate blue eyes were full of compassion. He held out his hand. She grasped it and he hauled her up in front of him.

  “Let’s get you warm.” He opened his fur coat, pulled her against his warm body, and wrapped them both up. “Where are your people?”

  “My people?”

  “Yes, do you have a cabin here bouts? You shouldn’t be out here alone. It’s dangerous and in the snow it’s easy to get lost.”

  Turning her head, she felt his warm breath against her cheek. His full beard brushed against her. “I’m on my own. I was hoping to find a town.”

  He didn’t say anything else as he urged his steed forward. It was slow going in the snow but the horse seemed to know its way. Leaning back against his wide chest, her eyes closed.

  She awoke with a start, not recognizing where she was. A fire danced in the massive stone fireplace, but beyond the firelight, it was dark. Pain shot through her hands and feet. It was expected with frostbite but she didn’t know just how painful it was until now.

  The cabin looked well built out of hand-hewed logs, and no wind came through the walls. It was tiny, but it probably suited the man who rescued her. Sitting up, she waited for her eyes to adjust to the semi-darkness. There was a big pile of furs in one corner, a table with two chairs, and a makeshift kitchen area. Wooden crates hung on the walls to serve as shelves and a roughly put together plank of wood with logs for legs held a few kitchen items and tools.

  Above the pile of furs were pegs on which a few items of clothing hung. There was nothing fancy and nothing of convenience but it was warm. She was grateful to have shelter from the cold. The pain in her fingers was the worst and she dreaded looking at them. Slowly she pulled them out from under the covers and to her relief, they weren’t blackened with severe frostbite.

  The door opened and the man came in, a bundle of firewood in his arms. Kicking the door closed behind him, he then glanced in her direction. “So, you’ve decided to come back to this world, did ya?”

  “How long was I asleep?” Her body tensed, not sure what he had in store for her.

  He laid the wood next to the fireplace and threw a log on top of the fire. The flame blazed higher. “Only a day. You sure were hard to thaw, and I’m glad ya was out when I tended your hands and feet. Painful business it is.”

  “Thank you. They’re still hurting. It was nice of you to tend to me. I was afraid I’d lose them. Actually, I figured I was going to die out there. I’ve never seen snow so early. I wonder how the others fared.”

  His dark brow rose. “Others? You said you were alone. Damn, I live up here to be away from folks, not to go rescue them.” He took off his fur coat and sat down.

  “I am, or was, alone. I got kicked off the wagon train and was left to fend for myself.” Her voice contained the bitterness she couldn’t hide.

  “What in tarnation are you talking about? You must have done something pretty awful to be banned from the train.”

  “Of course.”

  His blue eyes widened and he ran his hand through his thick black hair. It hung past his shoulders and she wondered when was the last time he’d had it cut. “You might as well tell me. I’m not the type to judge.”

  “My parents died and they refused to let me travel with them alone. It was either marry old toothless Thomas or be thrown off the train. To my surprise they were serious and when I refused to marry Thomas they filled a sack with a meager amount of food, filled a canteen, and allowed me to take my coat and scarf with me.” She paused as all the pain came rushing back. There hadn’t even been time to mourn the passing of her dear mother and father.

  “Miss, that’s—”

  “It’s Samantha. Samantha Foley.”

  He nodded. “I’m Patrick McCrery. I have to say that’s quite the yarn you’re spinning.”

  She glanced away from his intense eyes. “I wish it was just a story.”

  “Well now, are ya sure ya weren’t inviting the married men to look your way?”

  A loud sigh was her reply. She’d thought the people on the wagon train were crazy, but now a stranger believed
her capable of luring men. What was it about her that people assumed such an awful thing? “I thought you said no judgment.”

  “Aye, I did. How long ago did they put you out?”

  “I’d say two weeks or so. I tried to follow by foot but they actually threw rocks at me to keep me away. As far as I’m concerned, they left me to die.” A tear rolled down her face. “Ouch!” She tried to wipe it away.

  “Don’t cry. I hate crying. If ya want me to believe your story I will.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Just what is it about me that screams whore to you?”

  “You have pretty blonde hair, and a man could get lost in those big blue eyes of yours. I have to say you're nicely rounded in the right places. You don’t seem very meek either.”

  “You think I should have married Thomas? He is shiftless and wanted me to be his worker, not a wife. It would have caused trouble since I had no inclination to lay with him. He surely would have beaten me for it too. So, maybe my predicament is my fault. I suppose I chose death over a life of sheer hell.”

  His face softened a bit but she could see the clouds of doubt in his eyes. “I bet you’re hungry. I’ll throw something together.” There was an edge to his voice and it didn’t invite any more conversation.

  Lying back down, she figured she might as well try to regain her strength before she was put out again.

  Patrick squatted before the fire, adding wild onion to his venison stew. It was his winter staple. He wasn’t sure what to think. Her story, though far-fetched could be true. He’d heard of worse. Sometimes people on a wagon train turned on each other. Usually they just broke into smaller groups. Who in their right mind would leave a woman behind? There was no way she was as innocent as she claimed.

  Glancing over his shoulder, his eyes drank their fill of her. She was beautiful and while sleeping he could imagine her to be an angel, but he knew better. Most people weren’t what they showed the world. No, many harbored secrets and prejudices. Samantha, he’d never known a woman with that name before. She was probably supposed to be a boy named Sam and her parents had chosen a female name.

  Her honey blonde hair fanned out on the pillow. It’d been a long time since he’d seen a woman so fair. He went to town twice a year for supplies, other than that he lived a mostly solitary life. There were a few neighbors like him, who didn’t like the closed-in feel of a town. He tried the town life for a bit but people were not a charitable lot. They never forgave his parents for their supposed sins.

  Traps needed checking and he couldn’t take the time to indulge himself in his musings. Grabbing his heavy coat, he glanced back at Samantha and went out into the cold. The frigid bite hit him full force and ducking his head against the wind, he made his way to the makeshift barn. His horse, Ahearn, was always ready and willing to go no matter what the weather. He more than earned his name, which meant Lord of Horses in Gaelic.

  Leaving a woman to starve and freeze—what was the world coming to? He mounted his horse and off they went to make their way among the traps. He already had a good amount of the finest furs and it made him proud. Hard work always paid off.

  They traveled from trap to trap and found nothing. Perhaps the woman brought some bad luck with her. His mother would have prayed over her and sent her on her way. He smiled. He missed his mother but at least he had many fond memories to get him through the hard times. The clouds were rolling into the mountains and they were in for more nasty weather. He turned Ahern toward home and off they went.

  A set of small footprints caught his eye. He pulled up on the reins, stopping Ahern and jumped off. The prints looked to be a child’s. Did Samantha leave a child behind? She didn’t wear a ring. Was she married? He followed them for a while but they disappeared in the blowing snow. Still he searched but he came up empty. It was too damn cold for a child to survive out here but there was nothing else he could do.

  Grabbing Ahearn’s mane, he jumped onto his back and headed to the cabin. The wind picked up and the sky turned dark. He’d better hurry if he planned to make it home before the next storm blew in.

  After getting Ahearn into the barn and dried off, he gave him extra hay and made sure there was water. Grabbing a rope, he fully intended to tie a line from the barn to the house in case there was a white out. More than one person had frozen to death just steps from their houses. A rustling sound in the hayloft caught his attention and he slowly made his way to the pile. A small black shoe stuck out but the rest hid beneath the hay.

  “Achoo.”

  “Come on out, I know you’re in there.” His words were met with silence.

  There was another sneeze and Patrick reached down and brushed the hay off a small child. A boy, a blond-haired, blue-eyed, boy.

  “You’ll freeze out here and die. Come to the house, your Ma’s in there.”

  The boy’s eyes widened but he remained silent. He stretched out both arms to Patrick and he grabbed him up into his arms. The poor child was skin and bone. What type of mother leaves her child out in the snow to die? Samantha had a lot of explaining to do.

  “Let’s get ya warm and dry. I even have food warming over the fire.”

  The boy nodded, put his head on Patrick’s shoulder, and closed his eyes.

  Samantha grabbed a tin plate and ladled some of the venison stew on it. Her stomach growled and her mouth watered. Her clothes were still damp so she grabbed one of Patrick’s shirts and put it on. It was huge on her. She rolled up the sleeves and laughed. It practically hung to her feet.

  He didn’t seem to be one to smile often, but he hadn’t tried to have his way with her either. Hoping for a peek outside, she opened the door, but the intense wind immediately pushed her back. It was a struggle to close the door. Hopefully Patrick wasn’t too far away.

  Her hands and feet still hurt, but not as much as the first time she woke. It was a good sign. Patrick must get supplies somewhere. The nearest town couldn’t be too far away. As soon as the storm stopped, she’d be on her way. She hadn’t quite figured out what she’d do once she got to town but she was sure there must be a kindly pastor and his wife to take her in for a bit.

  Sitting at the table, she ate until she was full. It seemed to be forever since she’d had enough to eat. Supplies on the wagon train had been rationed and the hope for hunting quickly dimmed as the hunters returned day after day with no food.

  She took her last bite when the door blew open with a bang. Patrick stood in the doorway, carrying a child and glaring at her. “I found your child. I’ve heard about bad mothers but dang it ya are as cold hearted as they come. Why no mention of your son? You left him out there to die!”

  Quickly standing, she backed up. “That is not my boy. I’ve never been married.”

  “Aha! So, the real skinny is coming to light. What happened the rest of the pious folks on the wagon train found out you have a bastard and threw ya out? Did you figure you’d be better off without proof of your sins?”

  The back of her legs hit the bed and she immediately sat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. That child needs tending. Bring him here.”

  “What’s his name?” he asked as he laid him on the bed.

  “How would I know?” She was glad her irritation showed in her voice. The mountain man was pure loco.

  “You plan to play out your lies? Your heart must be iced over.”

  “He is not my child.” She began to undress the boy and gasped. His bones were visible and he had more than a few bruises on him.

  Patrick gaffed. “I wouldn’t want to admit to the treatment of the boy either.”

  It was getting nearly impossible to keep her temper reined in. “Could you get me some warm water and a bit of muslin if you have it. I’d like to wash him off a bit.”

  He didn’t say a word, he just did as she asked. He watched as she tenderly wiped the dirt away from the boy.

  “From his thinness I’d say he’d been on his own for more than a few weeks. How old do you think he is?”

&n
bsp; “He’s puny enough to pass for three but I reckon he’s at least four or so. He was smart enough to hide in my hay.”

  Samantha nodded. It didn’t matter what Patrick thought, she needed to tend to the boy. Someone out there was missing a child and they were probably heartbroken or dead. These mountains were unforgiving. She briefly wondered how the people on the wagon train were faring but dismissed them fast enough. They probably weren’t wondering about her.

  As soon as she washed the boy up, she tucked him into the massive bed. His eyes opened and he smiled. “Mommy?”

  Before she could utter a word, Patrick sat on the edge of the bed. “You’re fine now, lad. Your ma is right here. No more worries.”

  The boy nodded and instantly fell back to sleep.

  Patrick stood and crossed his arms in front of him. His expression was thunderous. “Lies upon lies. If the wind wasn’t howling like a banshee, I’d put you out. Children are innocents and no matter how they came into the world they deserve the same love as any other child.”

  She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. What was there to say? He didn’t believe one word she said. Why the child called her mommy was a mystery but they did have the same coloring. His ma was probably blonde too. She’d lived a good, honest and respectable life. She obeyed her parents and tried to do what was right. Maybe it was all for naught. Patrick didn’t care, he already judged her immoral.

  “I hope his parents are alive somewhere and we can reunite them.”

  He laughed mockingly and shook his head. “Still insisting he’s not yours huh? He did call you mommy. I think it’s proof enough. You can stop with your untruths now.”