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

by Dorothy Wiley

  He vowed that would never happen to him.

  From the Fort’s walls, Boonesborough expanded to the west on either side of a wide muddy main road.

  “It’s even bigger than I thought,” Stephen said, joining him. “I read that over the last ten years Boonesborough grew briskly. It now boasts more than a hundred and twenty houses and stores.”

  “It looks like even more to me,” Sam observed.

  “Agreed,” Stephen said as he settled his tricorne hat more snugly on his head. “That man back there is lucky to be alive. If it hadn’t been you asking, I would not have held myself back.”

  “The snake certainly tested my self-control. But we can’t let men like him drag us down. This town holds great potential for both fortune and trouble. Many of the men here, like that bunch, will have little regard for either divine or human authority.”

  “Some of them look like oversized coyotes,” Stephen said, looking around. He turned his horse. “I’m going back to Jane.”

  Sam thought that was a good idea. Protectively, he again positioned his horse closer to Catherine’s wagon, something he did only rarely because it caused her to smile at him. And before her smile, as warm as the summer sun, his defenses always seemed to melt away. It was a peculiar feeling and he still wasn’t sure why it happened. Or how to deal with it.

  Since the beautiful widow joined their group a few weeks back, he had often became ill-tempered as he tried to convince himself to stop thinking about her. He never wanted to have feelings for a woman again. But why did he have to keep telling himself that over and over?

  The worst part was that he didn’t know what he felt. So he brooded to himself, making every effort to avoid her. At least most of the time.

  Just talking couldn’t hurt, he told himself, and perhaps it would help calm his still prickling anger. He snugged Alex up close to Catherine’s wagon bench. “Kelly, are you okay?” he called into the wagon.

  “I’m all…right, Captain,” Kelly called out to him without sticking her head out of the wagon cover. “But I’ll stay in here for…a little while longer.”

  Sam could hear the smothered sobs in Kelly’s voice and it broke his heart. Those bastards had reawakened the misery that still haunted her. “It will take her a while to recover,” Sam said in a low voice.

  “It’s understandable, of course,” Catherine said.

  “And you, Catherine? Those were some nasty fellows back there.”

  When she lifted her eyes toward him, anger still flickered there. “As you know it’s not the first time I’ve encountered men of their sort. And I’m sure it won’t be the last.”

  Sam chuckled, admiring her pluck. He looked ahead and decided to change the subject to something more positive. “Well, at last, we are here Catherine. A new place to make your own destiny.”

  Catherine glanced over at him, keeping a tight grip on the reins and firm control of the horses pulling her wagon. The streets of Boonesborough were crowded with people, horses, and other wagons and she could only proceed slowly.

  “Yes, Captain. I remember what you told me about destiny. About the west being a place where people can make their own future. I never had a choice in the future my father and late husband created for me, as though I were a helpless child.”

  She was far from being either helpless or a child. He remembered when they first found her on the trail, shortly after she courageously killed one of the three thieves who murdered her husband and tried to attack her. The Wilderness Trail was the last place he expected to find a fine lady like Catherine. The woman’s breathtaking beauty had immediately stunned him. Her classically sculpted features and pearl-white skin made her blue eyes and dark brows dominate her face. Her high cheekbones, strong jawline, and the strength in her voice gave her a proud, almost noble quality. That day, she had worn a stunning blue lace-trimmed gown that seemed incongruous on a woman driving a wagon in the wilderness. Even more unusual for a woman, she carried an impressive dagger attached to a belt around her narrow waist.

  Now, she wore a more practical black and tan striped cotton gown suitable for the hard trip they just completed. Yet the garment managed to show off the curves of her firm young body, which always smelt of flowers. A waft of her fragrance caught on the breeze and reached him. The alluring scent stirred his blood.

  Catherine’s hair, black as a moonless night, hung down her back to her waist in a thick braid and several windblown strands framed her face, now no longer as pale. Today, her skin nearly glowed with a healthy reddish pink from exposure to the sun these past weeks.

  He couldn’t remember ever seeing a more striking woman.

  The fact that he took notice of her beauty surprised him. For years, ever since that catastrophic day, he’d remained indifferent to all women, no matter how beautiful. For some unexplainable reason, Catherine affected him differently. Perhaps it was the strength and stamina she exhibited or maybe it was the extraordinary dagger she always carried. Where did a woman get a blade like that and why did she always have it attached to her person? Perhaps for the same reason he carried his own unique knife.

  Nevertheless, it didn’t matter because he had no interest in her or any other woman. He studied the establishments and people of the busy frontier town with interest. But they didn’t hold his attention for long.

  He would talk to her just to be polite.

  “I hope you know I meant no disrespect to your father or departed husband when I said you could determine your own destiny,” he said. “I wasn’t trying to dissuade you from asking for your father’s guidance. I just believe women should have the same opportunities as men to make their own choices and to make of their life whatever they will.”

  A tired look of sadness passed over her face. “I understood your meaning. They did take my life away from me. I could only do their bidding with absolutely no say in what I would do with my life. And if I had gone back to Boston after my husband’s murder, it would have happened all over again. My father would have made sure of that.”

  Her bearing was stiff and proud, but he sensed a spirit in chaos.

  “I know you expected to arrive here with your husband, not all of us. What now? What are your plans?” He wondered if she was ready to begin thinking about her future. Even now as she handled her horse team expertly, she looked out of place. An elegant woman caught in an inelegant place. He hoped the young widow had made the right decision to continue on to Kentucky.

  “Let me think about that question for a moment, Captain,” she said, a pensive shadow in her eyes.

  He waited, but caught himself repeatedly glancing over his shoulder at her. Since meeting her, he consistently made an effort to keep his distance. He tried to remain cordial but detached. Pleasant, but not overly friendly. He was definitely not interested in pursuing a relationship with her and he hoped she didn’t presume that he was.

  But she was so damn pleasing to look at.

  She couldn’t possibly be attracted to him. He was a tough and scarred warrior without wealth. He owned nothing but what he carried on the horse he rode. A gentlewoman like Catherine would need what someone of the landed gentry could provide. Not him.

  He turned his attention back to the town, keeping a leisurely pace for the tired animals.

  Even if he were acceptable to her, it would never work. He could face any enemy, but when it came to thoughts of love, he possessed absolutely no courage. Over time, he had vigilantly built a formidable wall around his heart. And, he wanted it to stay that way. She was the last thing he needed or wanted in his life and he was hell-bent on keeping her at arm’s length.

  Catherine finally answered his question and seemed to choose her words carefully. “I honestly don’t know yet what I will do—whether I will stay here in Kentucky or go back to Boston. But I’m very glad I will be the one deciding it. I do know I want a future that includes love,” she said with regal certainty. “Having known the lack of it, I know how important it is to one’s happiness.”
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br />   Sam hesitated, measuring her for a moment. Unprepared for the directness of her answer, his back stiffened. He recently learned from Stephen’s wife Jane that Catherine’s first marriage had been arranged and loveless, but her frank admission astounded him. He hoped she hadn’t noticed his reaction. He cleared his throat and willed his voice to remain even, but she spoke first.

  “Love is the most important part of anyone’s future, don’t you think Captain?”

  He quickly decided against agreeing with her. “I think I should catch up to Stephen and see what his plans are for making camp.” He sheathed his inner feelings, then nudged his horse and hurried away, bewildered by his own reaction to her simple question.

  Catherine watched him ride off, toward his brothers. Oh dear. Perhaps she had been too forward or said the wrong thing.

  Not so, her heart whispered.

  After spending all these weeks with him and his family, she assumed she could be frank with him. She wanted him to understand her. To share her hopes with him. But even the mention of love seemed off-limits. Why? When she had asked the question, she saw his square jaw tense and a sadness pass quickly through his eyes. She sensed a heavy weight on his heart. And, she suspected, a secret pain he kept very close.

  On the trail here, she repeatedly debated with herself over whether she should return to Boston. She was being beyond foolish. Raised a well-bred gentlewoman from a wealthy Boston family, she and her parents were prominent members of the city’s gentry. Beyond any doubt, staying on this journey without her husband was not the proper thing to do. In fact, her parents would think it scandalous. She should return to her family home. Several times, she decided to do just that, but at the last second, would always change her mind. While traveling with them for her protection, she had grown fond of the Wyllies and their adopted Scots brother Bear. It had been too long since she felt this sense of family and belonging. Moreover, without reluctance, they had accepted her into their family’s group.

  But, if she were honest, the main reason she hesitated to return to her home was Sam. She found herself disconcertingly drawn to the man. His sun-bronzed face, tall muscled form, broad chest, and harsh masculinity made her wonder what it would feel like if he encircled her in his arms. Even his scarred strong jaw charmed her. The feeling was unsettling, yet pleasing. Like nothing else she had ever experienced.

  She found herself, on those rare occasions when he would hold her gaze, getting lost in his indigo blue eyes. They were the eyes of a man with steel in his character and a dark, almost mysterious, intensity. And the bright sparkle in them reflected a keen intelligence. She was certain the Captain was both well-educated and a deep thinker. And behind his rugged warrior facade, she saw a pleasing civility and a kind heart.

  That uncommon mixture of ruggedness and refinement made him truly unique. It was another reason she found Sam so intriguing. And, immensely appealing.

  Although, as yet, the feeling did not seem mutual. Pointedly ignoring her, the Captain went out of his way to avoid being near her. In fact, there was an air of deliberate isolation about him. When his lackluster attitude toward her finally annoyed her enough, she deliberately tried to entice him into paying more attention to her. She believed it had worked, but then he turned cold, barely able to say more than good morning to her.

  She couldn’t understand it.

  Catherine shifted her body on her wagon’s seat and straightened her back. Well, if that’s how it is going to be, so be it. She didn’t want a man who didn’t want her, who didn’t find her attractive. And she would never love a man who didn’t love her in return. Never. She knew what a loveless marriage was like. It was tedious, unexciting, and boring. The absence of desire and passion made for a mind and absolutely body-numbing experience in the marriage bed. No, that certainly wasn’t going to happen again.

  She would forget the Captain. She lifted her chin and made herself focus on the various establishments and shops lining Boonesborough’s busy main road instead of Sam’s broad back.

  “Can I come out now?” Kelly called timidly from inside the wagon.

  “Yes, of course. Come look at the new town with me,” Catherine called over her shoulder into the wagon. “Are you feeling better now?”

  “Yes, I’m not afraid anymore,” Kelly said, as she climbed out and took a seat on the wagon bench next to her. But Catherine could tell the young woman was trying to be brave.

  “Look at all the stores here,” Catherine said. The town was far larger than she expected. Her eyes opened wide. Ah, a seamstress. Delighted to see some sign of civilization, she would definitely visit the dressmaker’s establishment and soon. The trip had not been kind to her wardrobe. “I’ll be shopping at that store soon,” she told Kelly. “Every dress I own is suffering from either rips or stains.” She always took great pride in her appearance. She did not intend to stop now.

  Then she let out a long sigh. Why was she even thinking about buying new gowns? She should go back to Boston where she belonged, enjoy the kind of life she was accustomed to, and find a husband who would love her. There were plenty of eligible bachelors in Boston. There must be one there that she could consider marrying. But why couldn’t she name even one? They all seemed pompous and vain, as though polite society had bred away their manhood. When she compared them to the Captain, they all came up short.

  She slowed to let another wagon filled with fresh-smelling lumber turn in front of her. Then she gave the reins in her gloved hands a snap, urging her horse team along. She followed closely behind Sam, the oldest of the brothers, and the other four horseback men in his family.

  She thought a lot of all of them—brave, good men, who would do anything for one another. Despite her best efforts to stop thinking about Sam, an odd longing filled her. He now rode next to Stephen. He sat his horse ramrod straight and shoulders squared, his deerhide shirt stretched across the large muscles of his back. The slight breeze ruffled his shoulder-length dark hair. Unlike his brothers, who all wore the traditional tricorne three-cornered hat, Sam wore no head covering at all unless it was bad weather. Knee-high rugged moccasins covered his feet instead of customary leather boots and reached up to his dark leather breeches.

  But it was his huge knife that contributed the most to his daunting appearance. Although attached to a beautifully carved deer horn handle, the blade left no question as to its purpose—to kill and kill swiftly.

  Sam looked to her as if he belonged here on the frontier, at the edge of civilization. He was a man as powerful as the intimidating long knife he carried. If anyone belonged here, he did.

  But did she?

  “It’s hard to believe we’re really here,” Kelly marveled. “You, all the way from Boston, and me from the woods of Virginia. Do you suppose we both wound up here with the Wyllies, for a reason?”

  “Maybe so. Fate has a way of choosing our path,” she said.

  Kelly inclined her blonde head toward her and said, “No, I believe God has a way of pointing us toward our future.”

  Maybe her destiny was in Kentucky, Catherine mused. Was she pointed here for a reason? If so, what was it? She wanted more in life than society balls and practicing fancy needlework. She wanted to do something meaningful. Something important. But what?

  She knew only one thing for sure. She would decide her future.

  Chapter 2

  After they rode past the Fort and well into the town itself, Sam studied the faces of Bear and his younger brothers, Stephen, John, and William. The four now rode next to him, side by side, nearly connected as one. Despite their obvious excitement at having finally reached their destination, the faces of all four appeared weathered and drawn. The journey had taken its toll. Even the faces of the three children looked haggard. Hell, even the faces of the ox and horse wagon-teams looked weary. He couldn’t blame them.

  With a single-minded obsession, he’d pushed them relentlessly, traveling sunrise to sunset for months, steadily southward, passing big cities, and small towns,
further and further apart. He desperately wanted to arrive in time to secure their land and get homes built before winter.

  He had led them due west, on an old trading path that colonists improved into a road following the Revolution. They replenished their supplies in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, the last major town and the edge of the frontier.

  By July, they traveled southwesterly, through Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley, between the Appalachian and Blue Ridge mountain ranges, before turning north and passing into Kentucky through the Cumberland Gap.

  “We left New Hampshire in late April,” Stephen said. “It took us a hundred and twenty-three days. We would not have made it without you, Sam. Even back there with those hunters, you kept it from turning into a blood bath.”

  “The frontier is no place for the hot-headed,” Sam said.

  “You were the rock we all leaned on,” John agreed.

  “He is hard-headed,” William added with a chuckle. “But in all seriousness, you did teach us how to be ever alert and cautious. I learned that the hard way.”

  “The wilderness is also no place for the careless,” Sam said.

  “And na place for amateurs,” Bear said.

  Sadly, the wilderness was full of them. Sometimes on the Wilderness Trail, they saw the camps of other travelers, but wary of strangers Sam urged that they keep to themselves. Some of those travelers experienced an even more trying trip. They rode draft horses or mules or walked and most were unkempt and ill-clad in homespun. Several times, they saw entire families on foot with all their meager belongings tied to their bent backs. Sam pitied them. They journeyed west with little more than an abundance of hope.

  With his brothers and Little John well mounted and the women and girls riding in the relative comforts of the wagons, their large group was more prepared than most. Before they left, he had carefully compiled a long supplies list, knowing that adequate provisions could mean the difference between success and failure—and life and death.