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

by Dorothy Wiley

  “I can’t believe he’s dead,” William said, “even though I saw it happen.” He rubbed his eyes, trying to banish the horrible image of John flying off the back of his horse. He swallowed the sob that rose in his throat.

  “Let’s get her back to camp,” Stephen finally said through gritted teeth. “Will you get the supply wagon while I stay with Catherine?”

  “Yes, and I’ll need to tell Little John before we have to bring his father’s body back.”

  “Send the Judge to get the doc,” Stephen suggested.

  “Catherine, just rest. I’ll be back as soon as I can,” William said, remounting. He decided against telling Stephen about George. His brother had enough to deal with for now and perhaps it would be better if Sam told him since he was there when it happened.

  “Hurry,” Stephen urged in a choked voice.

  As William rode away from one brother, he cried for the loss of another.

  William rode into camp with a strong sense of dread—he would have to tell Little John and the others. How? What would he say?

  The Judge strode over as William dismounted. “What’s happened, son? I see it on your face.”

  “Foley’s dead, but Big Ben killed John.” Again, William felt like he might choke on the abhorrent words.

  “Damn,” the Judge said simply.

  “Foley and his brother waylaid Catherine and Sam. She’s wounded, but not gravely. I’ll use the supply wagon to bring John and Catherine back. Will you get the doctor? Bring him back here as quickly as you can?”

  “Of course. I’ll go now. Are Sam and Bear going after the killers?” he asked, taking long strides toward his horse.

  “They are,” William said. His mind seemed disoriented, as if he was in some confusing dream moving in slow motion. He dreaded the terrible parts still ahead of him. “Where are the others?”

  “The children are in the wagons and the women are armed and situated between. I thought that would be their best protection. May the good Lord be with you as you tell the boy.”

  As the Judge rode off, Jane and Kelly hurried toward William. His stomach clenched. Little John followed right behind them.

  “William, is Stephen all right?” Jane asked right away.

  “Yes…but,” he could not make himself finish.

  “But what?” Jane demanded.

  His eyes told her to wait. He bent down and picked up Little John.

  “What about Pa?” Little John asked. “And Uncle Sam?”

  William swallowed hard as he faced the hardest thing he had ever done. This is when a man truly needs courage. His own heart was breaking and he was about to crush this little one’s. Better to tell him now, than for Little John to learn when he brought the boy’s father back laid out in the wagon. But his lips could not form the words. For a moment, they could only quiver.

  “William?” Kelly asked gently, placing her hand on his shoulder.

  Her touch seemed to strengthen him. He sat down on the ground, cross-legged, pulling Little John into his lap.

  William glanced up at Jane who pressed her shaking hand to her mouth. Then he looked at Kelly, who now shook her head in understanding.

  “Little John, your father died today saving his brothers from some evil men,” William said as gently as he could.

  He heard Jane and Kelly both gasp, realization sinking in.

  “My Daddy is dead?” Little John asked slowly. “Like my mother?”

  William nodded and then enveloped Little John in his arms, pulling the boy against his chest. He couldn’t help John, but perhaps he could help his nephew now.

  “And Sam and Catherine?” Jane asked gently.

  “Stephen is waiting with Catherine. She has a gunshot wound, but she will live. The Judge just went after the doctor. I have to get the wagon and go back for her and…John. Sam and Bear have gone after John’s killers.”

  “God, please protect them,” Jane whispered.

  “I’m so sorry Little John,” William said, still hugging the boy.

  “Was my Pa a hero?” Little John asked, his chin quivering and tears beginning to stream down his face.

  William lifted Little John’s chin and peered directly into the boy’s glistening eyes. “Most definitely. He absolutely was. He was a great hero today,” he assured the boy.

  But heroes often die, William realized, tears threatening to spill from his own eyes.

  For several seconds, no one spoke, as both uncle and nephew struggled with their shared pain.

  William wanted to stay and comfort the boy, but he needed to hurry. He stood and gently handed Little John over to Jane.

  Little John had not cried hard until Jane held him. In her arms, he began to sob miserably.

  William swallowed and tried to pull himself together. “Kelly, help me hitch Catherine’s team to the supply wagon. I need to hurry.”

  They worked quickly, first unloading the supplies stored in the wagon and then attaching the leathers to the team. As they worked, he saw tears slip silently down Kelly’s cheeks. His own eyes burned as he struggled to control his emotions in front of her.

  The two finished within minutes and William urged the two stout horses to a canter as he drove off for his brother. Then he would get Catherine and Stephen.

  He prayed John would be the only brother the wagon would have to carry this awful day.

  Chapter 32

  A high caliber ball shattered the trunk of the large oak next to Sam.

  Bark and splinters flew everywhere hitting him and the horse. Unaccustomed to the sound of gunfire, John’s horse shied and Sam’s heart stopped for a beat or two as the frightened animal side-stepped severely, almost jumping out from under him. He barely managed to stay in the saddle.

  “Whoa now,” he soothed, bringing the horse under control.

  Sam took a tighter grip on the reins and quickly pressed the nervous mount toward the two men. He tried to use the dense trees to his advantage. He didn’t think either of the hunters had a good shot. Every time he thought he might be in their sights, he swiftly wove John’s gelding around another tree as Bear followed.

  Riding hard, as he thundered through heavy timber, he heard small branches cracking and felt some ripping and slapping at his arms and back. Behind him, he heard Gaelic curses and “Ouch!” several times.

  Fortunately, the buffalo hunters had no luck with the two shots they took at Bear either, one a near miss and the other completely missing even the large target Bear and his horse Camel made.

  The two men had to be reloading, but he and Bear were just seconds away. They would be on the hunters before they could reload their weapons. If they wouldn’t surrender and face the judge, it was time to kill.

  Sam and then Bear slowed their horses. “Throw down your weapons, and we won’t kill you,” Sam hollered. If he were honest, he hoped they wouldn’t lay down their arms. But honor required that he give them the chance.

  “Go to hell,” Big Ben shouted back.

  “Piss on you!” the other man yelled.

  These men would have to die. The men who had killed John. The men who had blown a good man’s heart to shreds, killing him like an animal, with a gun meant for buffalo. In that instant, the line between revenge and justice completely disappeared. Revenge became its own wild justice. There could be no other way. This had gone too far.

  This man took too much.

  A verse from Exodus burst through his head, as though the Almighty also demanded this contemptible man’s life. ‘But if there is any further injury, then you shall appoint as a penalty life for life.’ A penalty. For John’s life. For a now fatherless Little John, he would become God’s own warrior.

  He dropped the reins on the horse’s neck and, for a moment, used his knees and legs to control the gelding while he unsheathed both his big knife and Catherine’s dagger. The blades sparkled, one in each hand, even in the dim light under the canopy of thick pines. He caught the fleeting glint of the dagger’s sapphire. Blue, like her eyes.
He had seen love in those eyes and he desperately wanted to see it again.

  But first, he had to kill these men.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bear reach for his hatchet. If his plan worked, Bear would not have to use it.

  God, let me be your warrior.

  He barreled forward and drove the big gelding between the hunters causing them to stagger. He leapt off the still moving horse on his uninjured left leg, landing precisely between the two as they attempted to regain their balance. Moving with the speed and skill gained from years on the battlefield, with one swift slash of the dagger he slit the throat of the man on his left and then with his right hand instantly shoved his knife into Big Ben’s chest, lacerating the man’s heart.

  “A heart for a heart,” Sam hissed on a ragged breath.

  Their souls trapped in that fleeting moment between life and death, the eyes of both men, just inches from his own, grew large with horror, then dimmed completely as hell claimed them.

  Both men crumpled nearly simultaneously on either side of him.

  Hot blood had splattered from the men’s wounds onto Sam’s face and chest. Tasting their bitter blood on his lips, he sputtered and spit, trying to purge the coppery taste. He staggered as he wiped his face repeatedly with his shirtsleeves, attempting to clear the blood from his mouth. He looked down at his shirt, now red with both Catherine’s blood and the blood of these two scoundrels. It made his skin crawl. He ripped the shirt off his body, wiped the dagger still in his left hand, and flung the garment onto Big Ben’s body.

  His face still contorted for battle, he turned toward Bear. Clenching and unclenching his hands, he struggled for sanity. It was slow in coming.

  Bear must have sensed his volatile state of mind and said soothingly, “Sam, ye’ve already killed the bad blokes, aye?” Bear lifted a bushy red eyebrow questioningly.

  His legs spread wide in an unmoving stance, Sam could only give his head a curt nod.

  They eyed each other silently for several long moments, both gasping for breath.

  In a disbelieving voice, Bear said, “My Lord, Sam, I’ve never seen men die faster.”

  Finally able to move, he turned around and saw his knife protruding from Big Ben’s shredded heart. He stared at it until his own heart slowed. He hated killing. But he hated killers more.

  Sam reached for the blade. It had claimed the life of a murderer and, as it had many times before, saved his life. He cleaned the knife as best he could with grass and leaves, his stomach still a taut ball of tension.

  He retrieved Stephen’s whip from one of the hunter’s mounts, and then he and Bear turned to find their horses. Eyeing the whip in his hand, he realized that he had come close to being beaten to death with it.

  Then he stared down at his own knife again. With a sense of liberation, he let out a slow breath. He would forget seeking revenge. It was over.

  He and the knife had a new purpose in life.

  Feeling at peace, he drew himself straighter and relaxed his shoulders. Now he would use the blade to help him build a new life with Catherine.

  It would be a new beginning. At last. John would have wanted that for him. As he thought about his brother, he swallowed the despair in his throat.

  It was time to grieve for John.

  As they mounted up, Sam looked back at the two bodies, now lying in black shadows under the trees.

  “Let’s take their horses, but we’ll leave these two snakes for the wolves.”

  Bear sighed heavily. “Aye, Sam.”

  Chapter 33

  Burying John took a hard toll on all of them. During the entire funeral, Sam held Little John in his arms, the child’s pitiful grief adding to his own deep anguish.

  John’s death had hit him like a kick in the gut. He felt responsible somehow. He was the big brother. He was supposed to keep them all safe.

  After crying against his shoulder most of the morning, an exhausted Little John fell asleep. While the boy slept, Sam spent the rest of that morning just sitting at his favorite spot on the riverbank. He needed the quiet peaceful setting to mourn.

  The loss of a brother was like losing a part of oneself. He didn’t know why, maybe because you came from the same womb, but it felt like part of him was suddenly missing. Part of his past was gone, a piece of his childhood, the portion of his life held only by John. Severed for the rest of this life on earth.

  Stephen had told them all that John’s pain had finally ended. Their brother’s heart, broken and destroyed in life, was whole again in death. John was now with his beloved Diana.

  Sam had watched his other brothers suffer with the same sense of extreme loss.

  Stephen keenly missed his stallion too. He told Stephen about George’s courageous stance against Foley, saving Sam’s life. Stephen said that saving Sam was George’s finest feat. But what consoled Stephen the most was the fact that George had covered Jane’s mare recently and the mare was now in foal. With luck, there would be a George, Jr. born early next year. A colt born in a pasture Stephen had yet to find. At about the same time, Stephen’s son should be born.

  Sam thought again about the only words he spoke at John’s funeral, quoting Proverbs 17. ‘A friend is a loving companion at all times, and a brother is born to share troubles.’

  Sam hung his head, hoping and praying that the future would hold no more losses as great as this.

  The next morning the sun suddenly broke through the clouds and angled rays illuminated the trunks of hundreds of trees on the river’s southern shore. Had heaven just lit a thousand torches to point Sam’s way? Was there a home out there somewhere for him? A home that could include Catherine by his side?

  The doctor had checked on both of them yesterday afternoon and said she was recovering well and would soon have full use of the shoulder and arm. Within the week, she would be feeling more like herself again.

  That good news was all he was waiting for.

  William returned about noon just as Jane served up the mid-day meal. He had ridden into town to give the Judge the large amount of money he had found on Foley’s body and horse.

  “The Judge decided to give a portion of it back to a farmer that was robbed and beaten while Foley and his brother raped the man’s wife. He plans to use the rest of the funds to begin work on a church named in John’s honor. He also wants to establish an endowment for widows and orphans. Unfortunately, Boonesborough already has a plenitude of both,” William explained. “He wants Sam to keep the hunters’ six horses as compensation for going after the killers and being falsely accused of murder. They’re stalled at the Fort’s stables for now.”

  Sam suspected the horses had better breeding than their malicious owners.

  The savory smell of Jane’s stew filled the somber camp. It normally made Sam’s mouth water, but not today.

  “I hoped I’d make it back in time for your stew Jane. That’s not something a rational man would miss,” William said, trying his best to sound cheerful. “The doctor sent these books and supplies out for you.” He sat them on her nearby trunk.

  “Thank you, William,” Jane said, handing him a brimming plate. “Kelly give him one of those hot biscuits you made too.”

  Leaning back against his saddle, with his own full plate, a sense of relief flooded through Sam. Now, Catherine and the rest of his family would be safe, at least from the buffalo hunters. In fact, many people would be safer now. Much safer.

  However, their safety came at great cost to all of them. They had lost a brother who found his courage when his family needed him. A man who had been there at the moment when Sam needed him. He swallowed the lump in his throat, refusing to give in to the sadness that threatened to engulf him. It was time to move forward, to leave his troubled past behind, and find his own new destiny with the person who gave meaning to the word life.

  Sam peered up at William, who wore the new shirt, cravat, and frockcoat he had bought to replace his old ones. The new attire made William look quite dashing, bu
t he was glad to be back in his buckskin hunting shirt himself.

  “How’s your leg faring Sam?” William asked before sitting down to eat.

  “Not much more than a bad scratch,” he lied. “Worst part was when Jane poured hot whiskey on it. I think she actually enjoyed it.”

  “I did,” Jane said, with a chuckle. “Quit your complaining and eat. You need to recover your strength.”

  “I’ll heal quickly. I always do. Stephen gave me some of Edward’s fine ‘medicine’ and that took the edge off.” The doctor thought his wound a lucky one since the blade had entered his leg at an angle; it did not sever a major muscle or vein and would eventually heal completely. He just had to keep it clean and apply a healing ointment daily. Like Catherine, he suffered from a considerable loss of blood and it would take some time to regain his full strength.

  “As soon as we can, I suggest we all leave for Nelson County,” Sam announced. He wanted to start fresh, as quickly as possible, somewhere away from the awful problems they had faced here. Stephen would have left that very hour if it had not been for their injuries. He glanced at Catherine who was laying nearby on a pallet recovering. Her lips parted in what seemed like surprise. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Did she agree with leaving? Did she realize that she was included when he said ‘all’?

  “I’m staying,” William announced.

  Everyone gawked at William, pausing in their consumption of Jane’s delicious stew.

  “The Judge offered me the job of Sheriff this morning. He said Constable Mitchell was too young and inexperienced for the job, but the young man wants to be my assistant. The Judge also wants me to apprentice under him to become a lawyer. Maybe even a judge eventually. Apparently, he was impressed with my performance in the courtroom. He said I just needed to study Kentucky law.”

  “Aye, ye’re a top-notch performer. I can vouch for that,” Bear said, setting his plate down, foregoing his usual second helping. Normally, one plate could never hold enough food to fill Bear, but like Sam, he probably wasn’t hungry. Bear had lost a brother too.