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

by Dorothy Wiley

  For a moment, no one spoke and no one moved.

  Then Sam said, “Chief Wanalancet,” and nodded his head in acknowledgment.

  Wanalancet! So this was the Chief who sent Bomazeen to steal her. Hell fire! The situation was worse than she thought. A terrifying realization washed over her. This man was after her.

  Jane kept her eyes pinned on Wanalancet. The fire’s reflections bounced off the many strings of beautiful pearls on the man’s broad chest. His intelligent ebony eyes, sinister and threatening, sparkled in the fire’s light. He stood taller than most natives that she had seen and his powerfully built arms spoke of great strength.

  She quickly decided that the Chief and the other four ominous braves, who appeared muscular and warlike as well, would be formidable opponents for Stephen, Sam, William, and Bear. She would have to help. That would even the odds. She would do something, anything to help. She could pull a burning log from the fire, throw it in the Chief’s face. She would probably die trying, but if it saved Stephen’s life it would be worth it.

  Her heart beat so rapidly she could barely breathe. She grabbed her skirt with her fists to hide her shaking hands. She forced herself to stand tall. Her rigid back muscles knotted with anxiety as her gaze shifted constantly between Wanalancet and Stephen.

  A palatable tension swirled around them all, the air nearly dripping with hostility and friction. She could sense the barely controlled anger that boiled in Stephen’s body.

  He would find a way out of this. He had to.

  Stephen watched as Wanalancet studied each of the four men. The Chief peered into each man’s eyes and held them for several long moments.

  He felt Wanalancet read his soul and knew the Chief had seen the angry part of him.

  The Chief moved to stand in front of Sam. “You are Bloody Hand,” Wanalancet said.

  “Some call me that,” Sam answered.

  The Chief moved to Bear. “You are Bear Killer, the giant,” Wanalancet said to Bear.

  Sam translated. Bear gnashed his teeth and snarled.

  Only glancing at William, but clearly noticing the badge, Wanalancet turned his attention to Stephen.

  Stephen glared back, boldly, his jaw defiant. Pistols in both hands and the wolves’ hides contributed to his feeling of wild strength. He would need that strength. This would likely be a battle.

  “You are a wolf man?” Wanalancet asked him.

  Sam said, “Yes, he is a wolf man. Wolves and men both fear him. You would be wise to fear him too.”

  Stephen could hear the bridled anger in Sam’s voice.

  Wanalancet turned toward Jane. “Which man you belong to?”

  Sam continued to translate and Jane pointed to Stephen.

  He fixed a cold stare on the Chief.

  “Then he is the one I must kill. The spirits of the wolves on his back give him power,” Wanalancet said, “but my powers are those of a Chief and come from the Great Spirit in the stars. You men must lay down your weapons. After I kill the wolf man, we will take three women and three horses. If you do not follow us, the rest of you may live and keep your little ones. If you even begin to follow us, I will send two braves back to kill the children when no one is watching. Now lay weapons on the earth. Then, wolf man dies.”

  Sam translated slowly, keeping his voice low so the children could not hear.

  Stephen considered Wanalancet’s threat. He weighed the fighting skills of the braves. This could not end well if they fought. But if they didn’t fight, all three women might be raped within minutes after he was killed and the other men tied up. Catherine and Kelly would each be raped twice and probably many more times before the night was over. The possibility made him want to be sick. Wanalancet would find the whiskey in their wagon and be emboldened by it. He doubted that the Chief would keep his promise to let the others live.

  “If you want those two women to keep their life, step forward now wolf man and put down your useless weapons. They will not fire in this wet world. Out of respect for this woman,” he said pointing to Jane, “I will make your death swift.”

  All of a sudden John sat up. “Please, be reasonable, he is a brother dear to me. He got caught in the storm. He was only hunting for food. He means you no harm. Neither do the rest of us. I beg you, do not hurt him.”

  A corner of Sam’s mouth lifted in a half-smile and he translated what John said as, “You will never be able to kill a man as strong as the wolf man. His Great Spirit gave him great powers over evil. Those who carry evil in their hearts should always fear him. That is why your evil friend Bomazeen is now dead. And why you too will die if you do this evil thing.”

  “The wolf man killed Bomazeen?” Wanalancet asked, seeming impressed.

  “Yes,” Sam said, “in the afterworld, even the evil spirits could not recognize Bomazeen. Dark and evil blood covered his head when my brother the wolf man finished with him.”

  “We called him Wandering Evil. Now Bomazeen will wander forever, unrecognized by anyone,” Wanalancet said. “But Wandering Evil’s killer must also die. I do not want this woman wanting to return to him. If he is dead she will not long for him.”

  Jane turned to Sam and with authority and strength in her voice said, “Tell him I’ll go with him willingly and act as his wife, but only if he lets all of you live.”

  “Like hell,” he swore.

  Ignoring Stephen’s outburst, Sam calmly translated Jane’s statement.

  He struggled to keep his mouth shut. The pistols in his hands shook slightly with anger. He was reaching a boiling point.

  Sam eyed him and subtlety put a finger over his mouth. One wrong word and this could end in disaster for all of them.

  Stephen clenched his jaw even tighter and lowered the pistols slightly. Only the brave’s arrow pointing directly at him kept him from leaping on Wanalancet, but he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back much longer.

  Wanalancet held Jane’s chin in his hand and stared penetratingly into her face. Looking beyond the green of her eyes, the Chief seemed to be studying her heart. “Your love is that deep?” he finally asked, and Sam translated.

  “I would die for every one of these men, my brothers, and I would die a thousand times for my husband,” Jane answered.

  “You would die for them, but I ask you to live for me. To come with me is not death. It is life. I will sing the sacred song of the stars to you. I will honor you with many slaves and gifts. You will rule over our people with me. Your beauty is worthy of a Chief. You are tall for a woman and your spirit is strong. You will be the mother of all our people.”

  For the moment, Stephen would continue to give Jane a chance to stand up to the Chief. The pluck she showed impressed him and she had chosen her words wisely. He prayed that would continue, because not only did her words need to reach Wanalancet, they could not cause the Chief’s temper to flare.

  “I am already a mother,” Jane declared, pointing to the three children, “and I have already heard the song of the stars and have it written on my heart. My God permits only one man to sing the precious song of love to a woman. To leave that man would mean spiritual death for me and dishonor. But if you let them all live, and leave the other two women, I will no longer follow my husband and go with you. I will willingly be a wife to you in all ways. As God is my witness, I speak the truth.”

  “Never!” Stephen growled.

  “Tell him,” Jane ordered Sam.

  After Sam translated, the Chief straightened his broad back. “You are in no position to bargain. You will go with me, after I kill the wolf man, or I will kill them all if I need to,” Wanalancet said, his voice harsh, his eyes threatening.

  “Then I will never stop fighting you,” Jane said, her eyes suddenly blazing, “especially when you want to lay with me.”

  Stephen noticed Sam watching Wanalancet’s every breath and studying every muscle on the Chief’s proud face. The slightest flicker of hostility in the man’s eyes would release the knife clenched in his hand becaus
e that fraction of an instant would be the only advantage they would have. If Sam acted at the right moment, he could kill the Chief. Bear’s hatchet would sink into the brave closest to him and he hoped the weapons he and William held would fire and hit their targets. And Wanalancet would be a dead man. He would make sure of that.

  But Wanalancet had probably brought his best braves with him and they could be equally lethal. Quick as a snake. With his hands and feet tied, John would be dead in a moment. Several of them would definitely die, heaven forbid, even the children. He had to stop that from happening. However, he would not let Jane make this terrible sacrifice even if Wanalancet agreed. He couldn’t betray her trust in him.

  Stumped, he couldn’t decide what to do or say next.

  Wanalancet turned from Jane to Sam. “Bloody Hand, I must kill wolf man. Tell him to prepare himself.”

  Chapter 43

  Before Sam even translated, Stephen understood what was about to happen. His heart pounded in fury. They were caught in that moment between life and death. What happened next would determine if they were going to live. He would not back down. He was more than ready to die if need be. He would never let Wanalancet take Jane.

  She carried his heart. She carried his son.

  Stephen had to convince the Chief that Jane was his. He turned to Wanalancet and said, “Trying to kill me would be a mistake. I destroy evil. Are you so sure that your heart holds no evil? If it does, I will prevail. My spirit has the courage of good, not evil. Unafraid of the wilderness, I have come far and journey further only to make a new life and a better home for my family. I respect you great Chief and have no desire to take your life and those of your braves. But my honor will not let you steal my wife. Stealing her would be an act of evil.”

  Wanalancet seemed to consider what Sam translated and then replied, “I too have traveled far to claim my new wife and start a new life with her. I did this because my spirit joined hers through the smoke of my sacred pipe. I love her spirit already.” The Chief hauled Jane over to stand beside him. “And I will love her body soon.”

  Jane didn’t resist but her face went bright with anger.

  Stephen quickly stomped toward Wanalancet, his teeth bared, his own face burning with wrath. He ignored the brave’s drawn arrow closely following his movements. It was time to end this, one way or another.

  “Sam, tell him exactly what I say—exactly.” Stephen forced himself to speak slowly. “We can fight now for which life and which spirit wins—yours or mine—but some of you will die and some of us will die.” He waited for Sam to translate, then continued. “Those of us who live will hunt you until we kill you and we will bring these women back to us. This woman is already a wife, mine, and by all that is sacred, she always will be. Taking another man’s wife is evil. And I must fight evil where I find it.”

  “My heart is not evil,” Wanalancet said firmly.

  “It will be forever evil. If you take my wife.” His gaze on Wanalancet remained steady.

  Sam translated, then added, “I too have traveled far—to leave behind bloody wars I have fought with both the Indians and white men. We have been enemies for many years. You, your braves, and other tribes fought us with great courage. And the white men fought each other bravely. But the time has come for us to live in the same world and let the same sun enlighten us all. We all need land to grow food and game to hunt. The Algonquian tribes must have their world and their lives. And we must have ours. There is enough land for you and for us.”

  Then, Stephen continued, “It is not brave or honorable for you to steal women from among us. Even though the numbers are few, the grief you cause is great. If you stop, it will be easier for the white man to respect you and call you wise. A wise soul understands that there are good and bad among any tribe and any nation. But good men will always be greater in number than the bad. You and I must not let bad men determine how we treat each other. My brother does not want his hand to run red with Indian blood, especially the blood of a great Chief. But his knife is savage when it needs to be. We will kill you, but only if you harm our family or steal these women. We can be brothers or we can be enemies. You must decide. Now.”

  “His knife is savage, but it is also a noble blade,” Wanalancet said, “unlike the blade of Bomazeen. He was one of the bad men that you speak of. I regret now that he sometimes acted for me because I am not one of these bad men. I see truth in the blade of the big knife because his heart is true. Your spirit, wolf man, is the strongest I have known among white men. But I have come far for this woman. I must consider what to do and what the Great Spirit tells me.”

  The imposing Indian circled Jane, seeming to study her body and soul. With each circle, his movements nearly graceful and his self-assurance unmistakable, Wanalancet drew closer to her. Each loop the Chief made around Jane lessened Stephen’s self-control. Soon he would have none. Forgetting their plan, he decided he would kill the man himself.

  Then, Wanalancet bent down and, for what seemed an eternity, studied the fire. Stephen wondered if the flames tied the Chief’s soul to the ways of the old spirits. Wanalancet’s eyes soon blazed, as though some unknown life force spoke only to the Chief. He hoped they were words of wisdom and peace.

  Stephen barely breathed but his hands gripped his weapons tightly. The dripping leaves surrounding them sounded like a thousand ticking clocks. Sam and the others remained quiet. Stephen prepared himself to kill if needed.

  Finally, Wanalancet stood tall, his long raven hair billowing in the breeze, and spoke again. “Bomazeen was right. This woman would make good mother to my people. I see great strength in her eyes and her body. But I do not want a woman whose spirit will die. Her beauty would wither like winter leaves. It has been so with others we have taken. Perhaps, as you say, it is false-hearted for us to continue to steal slaves. It is not my desire to do evil. We will leave you now with your lives and women. We will travel on to southern tribes and trade for women there.”

  Wanalancet motioned for his braves to put away their weapons and they obeyed immediately.

  Stephen lowered his weapons somewhat and finally breathed but kept relief from showing on his face.

  Bear, who understood the Algonquian language better than he could speak it, put away his hatchet and slowly stepped forward. He removed his necklace and presented it solemnly to the Chief.

  Stephen knew what a great sacrifice Bear was making to seal the agreement with the Chief. He also saw in Bear’s eyes a new respect for the man Wanalancet was and suspected that he no longer thought of the Chief as merely a wild savage.

  Wanalancet’s eyes widened in surprise and obvious pleasure as he studied the string of bear claws and teeth.

  Stephen removed one of the wolf hides from his shoulder and slowly brought it to the Chief.

  Wanalancet’s eyes, bright with the fire’s reflection, considered Stephen for a few moments before the Chief reached out for the dark skin. “This symbol of the spirit of the wolf is a costly gift. A wolf pelt is worth more than 40 beaver skins and presenting a gift of the fur of a wolf is an act of reconciliation. I accept this gift and your gesture of peace with it.”

  After Sam translated, Stephen said, “I will keep one skin and you the other. As these wolves were linked in strength and alliance in life, so will we be.”

  Wanalancet moved to the side of his horse, who sidled uneasily at the smell of the fresh wolf hide, now hanging from the Chief’s muscular forearm. He reached into a deer-hide pouch and removed his Calumet, sheathed in the neck of a loon. After filling the pipe’s red marble bowl with tobacco, and lighting it with a stick from the fire, he smoked the peace pipe for a few moments before offering it to Stephen.

  “My spirit gives this woman’s spirit back to you,” Wanalancet told him.

  Stephen took the pipe respectfully and smoked several puffs before passing it back to the Chief. Wanalancet then solemnly passed it to each of the other men in turn before taking a final drag on the long pipe decorated with bir
d feathers and locks of human hair.

  With the pipe cradled in his arms folded across his chest, Wanalancet said, “I ask only one thing of you.”

  “What?” Sam asked, warily.

  “That you use your noble blade to cut a length of this woman’s hair,” Wanalancet said, pointing to Jane.

  Sam glanced uneasily at Stephen and then translated.

  Stephen hesitated a moment but then nodded his assent, and motioned for Sam to give him his knife. If this had to be done, he would do it himself. He took the knife and cut a length of Jane’s hair, as she stood motionless, her face revealing nothing. He offered the locks to the Chief.

  Wanalancet sat down by the fire and used one of the rawhide strips hanging from the pipe to carefully secure Jane’s hair to the quill. Silently, they all focused on the shining copper curls now adorning the Chief’s sacred pipe.

  Stephen sat down next to the Chief. “Now, I ask only one thing of you great Chief.”

  Wanalancet studied him as Sam translated.

  “Would you clean your heart of Bomazeen’s evil by returning the yellow-haired girl back to her people? I believe her Christian name is Lucy,” Stephen asked.

  Wanalancet gazed again at the fire’s flames and smoke, his face impassive.

  “I ask you to do this good thing,” Stephen said. “If you do, and take her back to where Bomazeen stole her, we will all thank our God for your wisdom and ask for his blessings for many seasons upon you and your tribe.”