Romancing the Wilderness: American Wilderness Series Boxed Bundle Books 1 - 3

by Dorothy Wiley

  Lord, please bring Jane back to me.

  After Stephen’s prayer, an abnormal calm filled him. He stood up and looked at Sam. “Sam, you saved Jane today. That was a remarkable shot. I’ll be in your debt forever,” he said, his voice cracking.

  “So will I,” Jane said.

  In a second, Stephen knelt at Jane’s side grabbing her hands in his.

  She smiled up at him. “My hero.”

  “The hero is Sam. If it hadn’t been for that shot, we might not have been able to catch up to you.”

  “I knew you’d get me back,” she persisted, admiration in her eyes. “I’m so sore and so sleepy.”

  “You need rest. Sleep, darling,” he said, his voice near breaking with his emotions. “And have only sweet dreams.”

  “Before you do,” William said, bending down to her other side, “I’m truly sorry Jane. I fell asleep. I should have been watching out for you. It was foolish and stupid of me. I beg your forgiveness.”

  “We all make mistakes,” Jane said, still gazing into Stephen’s eyes, “that’s why God, and we, must be so merciful.” She closed her eyes and gave in to the sleep grabbing her.

  Stephen pondered her words. Was she telling him that he’d made a mistake?

  Chapter 16

  Jane woke before first light. Stephen slept soundly beside her, but Sam stood guard a short distance away, his rifle cradled in his arm. They must have taken turns standing guard.

  She ached all over. But it wasn’t any wonder given what she’d been through. First, the attack at the river’s edge, then the fall from the horse. Everything replayed in her mind from the beginning, as if it were happening over and over again. As she remembered the feel of the blade against her stomach, it seemed real enough that she pulled away from it, pressing her back against the ground.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “He didn’t get me,” she whispered, on a shuddering breath. But her attempt to reassure herself failed. Terror grabbed at her and squeezed her heart. Unable to keep her tears at bay, she wept, the salty droplets burning the scrapes and scratches on her face. Refusing to obey her commands to stop, the tears kept coming, a confusing mixture of fear and relief, pouring out of her. This is intolerable, she decided, mad at herself for the weakness. She pounded her balled fist on the ground. I must be strong for the girls, for Stephen.

  The first purple-grey hints of morning’s light began to push at the darkness. Gradually Jane’s mood lifted as well. A bird began to sing happily and others soon joined him as the sun’s brilliant orange painted the horizon.

  God, you let me live for this new day, she prayed. Give me the strength for it. Immediately, she sensed a calmness and her inner strength returning. She sat up, throwing the blanket off.

  Stephen popped up as well, holding his gun in his hand. “Are you okay?” he asked, his face filled with concern.

  She understood how much her safety meant to him. The ordeal must have been nearly as bad for him as it was for her. Maybe worse. “I’m sore, but well otherwise.”

  He pushed himself up. “You shouldn’t be up,” he scolded, pulling on his boots. “Rest another day or so. We’ll wait. You’re covered in scrapes and bruises.”

  “No need. I’m as tough as one of those oxen. A few scratches and bumps won’t keep me down.” She tossed her red curls behind her back and flashed her green eyes at him. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to taste the breakfast you men would make. But I would like it if you would get me a couple buckets of water. I certainly don’t want to go down to that creek again.”

  “Of course. Let me help you up.” He put an arm around her waist and lifted her up. “Are you sure you feel like getting up and about?”

  “I do. I’m not sick, just a little bruised and sore. And I certainly want to change out of these tattered clothes.”

  Stephen helped her climb up into the wagon and then hurried away to fetch the water. Trying not to wake the girls, she brushed her tangled hair, changed out of her torn clothing, and covered the skirt of the fresh gown with a clean apron, ready for the challenges this new day would bring.

  She still ached, but as she started moving around, the stiffness gradually lessened. Although she moved slower than normal, she went about her morning routine, making breakfast and taking care of baby Mary. The biscuits and Johnnycakes would be ready soon and the smell of pork frying woke those still asleep.

  “You’re as obstinate as you are beautiful, and that’s saying a lot,” Stephen said, pouring the coffee he had just made, for both of them. “Five strong men surround you, and you’re probably the toughest of the bunch.”

  Almost the same height as her husband, it pleased her that she had inherited her father’s physical strength and athletic stature. She often amazed Stephen by wielding an axe with nearly as much skill as he could. Her father, J. R. MacMillan, had encouraged his daughter to learn everything she could, both inside and outside the home. Much to the chagrin of some of the very proper and docile local women, her father supplemented her regular academic studies with his own lessons—riding, hunting, growing food, and raising and doctoring animals. Someday in this new world, his daughter might need to fend for herself, he had said. He’d seen far too many women, made widows by war or illness, become dependent on others.

  “Thanks my darling,” Jane said, accepting the coffee and planting a kiss on Stephen’s cheek. She noticed that he winced when he extended his arm with the cup. “Were you injured?”

  “A surface wound on my arm.”

  “Take off your shirt and let me see it,” she said, alarmed.

  “Sam has already seen to it. It’s nothing.”

  She insisted on checking it herself and applied more ointment. When she finished, she wrapped her arms around him and laid her head against his chest.

  His hand gently pressed her closer to him.

  His solid strength felt comforting and reassuring.

  Lifting her chin with a finger, he regarded her carefully. “You are feeling better,” he teased, then kissed her tenderly.

  She could tell he was trying not to hurt her. She longed to feel all of him against her, to reassure herself that she was truly here and they were both all right. But the kiss had to be the end of it, and she swallowed her regret.

  Stephen took the ointment from her hand and carefully applied some to every one of her scratches and scrapes. With each gentle touch of his fingers, the pain of the ordeal seemed to lessen, as though his touch had the power to heal not just her body, but her heart.

  The group was loaded and saddled up by the time the sun turned from reddish-orange to golden yellow.

  The next few miles proved to be the most difficult so far. As they approached the river, the terrain turned rocky and the road grew narrow. The wagon, towed by two brawny oxen, filled the road. Jane fisted the guide rope tightly in her gloved hands. The well-trained animals responded to voice commands. “Gee,” she yelled to turn the oxen right as the trail curved sharply.

  Her girls giggled and laughed with each bump. Every time the wheels bounced over a large rock, Jane heard them squeal with the unrestrained amusement children find in simple joys.

  “Go faster,” they yelled, one after the other.

  The girls’ glee entertained Jane for the first several miles, but now she longed for a smoother ride and peace and quiet. Every bump coursed through her bruised muscles. It would be a long day.

  “Hush up, my head’s hurting from all this bumping,” Jane finally told her little ones.

  “How much further?” Martha asked.

  “We’ve only been gone three days darling girl, and at this rate, it will probably take us three years. You’ll be ready to be married and I’ll be an old woman by the time we get there,” Jane said, a little grumpier than she intended.

  “Oh Mama, you’ll never be an old woman, but I will be ready to marry,” Martha said.

  “And what kind of man are you wanting to marry?” Jane asked.

  “One as smart as Uncle John, as
brave as Uncle Sam, as handsome and funny as Uncle William, as strong as Bear, and one as…as…like Father!”

  “Gracious, he will be some kind of man,” Jane said. “I can’t wait to meet him.”

  “Stop the wagon,” Sam yelled.

  The horses began to prance, sidestep, and act like giant horse flies had attacked each one. Stephen gripped George’s reins tightly as the big stallion jerked him sideways. The others dealt with similar problems from their mounts.

  “Whoa,” Jane yelled, stopping the oxen.

  Sam jumped from the saddle and tied his nervous gelding securely to a nearby tree. Bear did the same.

  “Stephen and William stay close to Jane and the girls. John, put that boy in the wagon and have your gun ready!” Sam shouted.

  John followed his brother’s instructions. Little John, who rode behind his father’s saddle, quickly jumped off the horse and climbed inside the wagon. When Sam issued orders using his Captain’s tone, they all knew he expected an immediate response.

  “Is it Indians?” Jane asked, alarmed.

  “No, probably a mountain lion or panther close by. If it’s real hungry or sick, it will attack humans. Let’s go Bear, this is your kind of party,” Sam said.

  Bear took off on foot followed by Sam.

  Nearly a half-hour passed with no sign of the scouting party. While the horses had settled down, the mood of the others remained tense. Jane did her best to stay calm and tried to distract the children with games and stories.

  “What’d you find?” Stephen asked when Sam and Bear returned.

  Jane released a deep breath when she saw the two were unharmed.

  “Good sized mountain lion out there. Found fresh droppings na more than twenty-five feet from the trail. ‘Tis what spooked the horses. He ran off though and I do na think he’ll cause us any more problems,” Bear said.

  “Good. I’d like to get through these woods with my mount under me, not the other way around,” William said. “Horses sure don’t like mountain lions.”

  “Do you blame them?” John asked. “I’d prefer facing Indians or snakes than be some critter’s dinner.”

  “You’ll likely get a fair share of all three by the time we get to Kentucky,” Sam warned.

  Jane glared at Sam, then nodded towards the children. The last thing they needed to hear were stories about being eaten by animals or killed by Indians.

  Sam lowered his voice. “Wild beasts aren’t the only ones with an appetite for the taste of a man. Some Indians enjoy eating a man. Didn’t you hear what happened to the Miami Chief? He got killed, boiled, and eaten by the Ottawa Indians at the Indian village of Pickawillany.”

  “And I’ve heard told that there be snakes in some parts of the world big enough to squeeze a man to death and then eat him whole,” Bear added.

  John’s face paled and eyes widened.

  “Quit trying to scare him,” Stephen said.

  “We’re not trying to scare him. I’d say we succeeded,” Sam said, laughing with Bear as they remounted.

  The pleasure of teasing a brother was not something a man outgrew, Jane thought.

  They reached the slow-flowing Merrimack by noon. They would cross the river on a large ferry. The operator, who seemed a pleasant fellow to Stephen, said it would take two trips to get them all across. Only Sam and Bear had crossed a river on a ferry before.

  Stephen asked Sam to go first with Jane, the wagon, and the bull and heifers. Sam agreed, tied his horse, and climbed up next to Jane. Sam held the guide ropes for the oxen while Jane held baby Mary as the ferry operator slowly took off. About mid-river, the ferry wobbled and wagon jostled a bit.

  Stephen gasped and fear knotted his stomach.

  “Do na worry yerself, ‘tis normal,” Bear said. “The current quickens in the middle.”

  Despite Bear’s reassurance, Stephen’s pulse beat erratically and his stomach still churned.

  The crossing seemed to take forever.

  Stephen released the breath he had been holding and smiled with relief when they safely reached the other side and Sam guided the oxen ashore.

  On the second trip, the other children followed with him, Bear, William, and John. As Bear instructed, the men spent the crossing soothing their horses with stroking and whispering. Bear spent the ride soothing John, who was not a good swimmer, and holding little Amy in one of his big arms.

  “Ye’re worryin’ yourself for nothin’. ‘Tis just a wee bit a water,” Bear said. “I’ve seen the Captain drink more whiskey than this in one sittin’.”

  “Nobody ever drowned drinking whiskey,” John countered.

  “Aye, but many a hard sorrow has drowned in the sweet nectar,” Bear answered.

  Holding Polly’s hand, Stephen stood next to Martha and Little John, who watched a snake slither across the water’s smooth surface. The two shivered, like the ripples in the water left by the snake. Both agreed a snake in water was a lot scarier than one on the ground. Unlike the adults and horses, the children clearly loved the ferry and, as they reached the opposite shore, said that they wished they could ride it again.

  Stephen hoisted Polly up onto George’s saddle and led the horse up the river bank. George too seemed to sigh a breath of relief now that they were on land again.

  He checked on Jane and then, straightening his back, turned the stallion toward the next trail.

  Chapter 17

  We have traveled over a hundred miles now, Jane wrote. I have started to feel calmer. I worried that the Chief would send more braves after me, but Sam says we are too far away now and they will not follow us anymore. I pray he is right.

  I wonder what new dangers face us.

  “Sure glad to see some sign of civilization again,” William yelled over to Stephen and pointed to a cluster of buildings not too far away. “It’s been entirely too long since I’ve had a nice-looking woman pay some attention to me.”

  Little more than a 100 yards long, the village of Petersborough offered the usual assortment of shops and merchants—a blacksmith, shoemaker, gristmill, general store, livery stable, three taverns, and two churches. Like most towns, the number of taverns outnumbered the number of churches.

  “No use you looking for a pretty woman. We won’t be here any longer than it would take for you to tip your hat at one,” Stephen said.

  “Now wait. We don’t have to keep up this pace. Why are you in such an all fire hurry anyway?” William asked.

  “If you had something other than women in that pretty head of yours you could think more clearly,” John scolded. “It’s late spring. That gives us six months before it starts to snow. If you don’t mind sleeping on snow-covered ground, you can take your time, but I’d prefer to be under a roof and not freeze my backside off.”

  “We can spare enough time for a quick ale,” William insisted.

  “I’ve spent a good part of my adult life trying to keep you out of taverns. I guess I’ll never cure you of that weakness,” John said.

  “You’ll have no difficulty talking Bear and me into joining you,” Sam said. “John’s purity hasn’t rubbed off on us either.”

  “I hope it never does. I wouldn’t want to have to drink alone,” William said.

  Several people waved as they slowly made their way through the village. The townsfolk no doubt had grown used to the steady stream of people passing through on their way north or south. Many of them depended upon travelers for the majority of their business.

  “Before you go traipsing off for that drink, William, we need to make camp.” Stephen pointed to a clearing on the west side of town near some of the village’s homes. As they set up camp, he’d never seen William move so fast.

  Once settled, John stayed with Jane and the children, sitting by the campfire, teaching Little John to read. Sam, Bear, and William grabbed their weapons and headed for the tavern, but Stephen lagged behind.

  “Go with them if you want,” Jane said and slid her arms around his waist from behind.

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sp; “I don’t want to let you and the girls out of my sight,” he replied soberly.

  “We’ll be fine. We’re in a town filled with people and the Indians would not dare attack us here. Go join your brothers. I know you want to.”

  He turned to face her and stared into her wide green eyes, lit with a sensuous light. His heart gave a tug and longing filled him.

  “You’d better leave before you decide to haul me off into the forest in broad daylight.”

  “You know me so well.” He kissed her forehead. “Have I told you today how much I love you?” he asked and pressed his lips lightly against hers.

  “Yes, you just told me. But you can tell me again if you insist.”

  “I love you.” He gave her hands a squeeze and glanced around for John. He was sitting by the wagon. “John, you’re on guard duty. Keep your rifle handy.”

  After John nodded his agreement, Jane said, “I have some mending to do, but I’ll keep a lookout too. This will be a good time for Martha, Polly, and Little John to study their school books. Now get.” She turned him in the direction of the town. “Someone needs to keep an eye on your brothers.”

  Stephen leapt on George and raced to catch up with the others. The men decided on the establishment named Patriot’s Tavern because they liked the name.

  “Be on guard men. Ye can na tell what kind of man ye’re goin’ to find in one of these roadside taverns,” Bear said.

  “That’s true, and try not to aggravate anyone Bear,” Sam advised, as they lined their mounts up in front of the hitching post.

  “Aye, I’ll be on me best behavior Captain, but I will na promise anything. If a man needs disciplinin’, it should na be put off.”

  “I agree,” Stephen said. “Punishment should be swift and sure.”

  “I’m glad to know you both hold such profound philosophies on justice,” William said.

  “Justice has a way of finding its own course,” Sam said, pushing open the tavern door.