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

by Dorothy Wiley

  “It will be good to have you home again,” her father said, “it’s been too lonely without you.”

  She gave a choked, despairing laugh.

  “I canna believe ye let her go,” Bear said accusingly, his ruddy complexion turning a deeper red.

  “Let her? She’s a grown woman. I can’t force her to stay,” William protested. He knew it was a feeble excuse. He should have found a way to make her see reason.

  “Och! Can’t never could do anything!” Bear declared.

  William felt a wretchedness he’d never known before. As if someone just stole a part of him, while he stood by and watched, like some sort of bloody fool.

  Sam just stood there glowering. His oldest brother was undoubtedly disappointed in him too. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time.

  He felt guilty and helpless. He rubbed the sore spot on his jaw where McGuffin’s fist had landed. The man threw a mean punch. Would he use those beefy hands to hurt Kelly? The thought made him frantic with worry. Unease twisted his gut and the dull ache of foreboding filled his chest.

  Why did she leave? Disappointment ripped through him. Despite her nervousness, he had felt an eager affection coming from her all day. Every time her gaze met his, an undeniable sensuous attraction linked him to her. And sometimes, he caught her staring at him with longing. But she would always quickly avert her eyes when his gaze met hers or move away from him. Something was holding her back. It was almost as though she were held against her will, and unable to respond as she wanted.

  Not wanting to scare her, he had deliberately held his own affections in check. He’d made it clear, he hoped, that he was fond of her, but he purposely kept his behavior subtle, even when they were alone in his cabin. Now he wished he hadn’t been quite so restrained. Perhaps if she’d known how he felt, she would have decided to stay. He’d been a fool to keep his feelings for her hidden. In his endeavor to not scare her, he went too far.

  “I vowed to help her. And when she needed me the most, I failed,” he admitted. His promise to help her weighed upon him. “Lately, her ordeal has manifested itself in disturbing ways—rubbing her wrists continuously, unsteady hands, and acting wary, especially of men, even me. And terrible nightmares. Thinking it might do her good to get away from the town for a while, I took her to see my new cabin earlier. We talked for a while and for the first time since her attack, she broke down crying.”

  “That’s a good thing. I wondered when she would finally let go of some of her hurt,” Sam said.

  “I promised to help her! I told her that we would make today the beginning of her healing. Now it won’t be. Bloody hell!”

  Sam’s large forehead wrinkled and Bear’s bushy red brows drew together with concern.

  “Right after I got her back to Wolfe’s home, his mother came out and summarily dismissed her as though she were a worthless animal she was shooing off her property. The woman was just cruel. And now this! That brute of a father intimidated her. That’s why she left.”

  “William,” Sam began, a note of censure in his tone, “you told her not to go because her father would abuse her. Then she asked you to give her a reason to stay. But you didn’t.”

  “She did?” He thought back to her exact words. “Oh God, she did! I wasn’t thinking clearly,” William groaned.

  “Settle yerself man. The lass needs ye to think clearly now,” Bear said sharply.

  “Think clearly? How can I when…” He stopped himself before he could say what he was thinking—the woman he loved had just left. He did love her! He realized that now by how much the possibility of never seeing her again hurt him. If he were honest, love had wrapped around his heart so tightly he was surprised it didn’t stop beating. “I’m going after her!” he declared.

  “I’ll come with ye,” Bear offered.

  “It’s about time you came to your senses,” Sam told William. “But we should wait until morning. Give her some time with her father. I have a feeling that the longer she’s around that man, the sooner she’ll want to leave him. And if you show up now, she’ll feel pressured. Better to give her some time to think. Women like to make up their own minds.”

  “Aye, Sam’s right,” Bear agreed, “they won’t get very far tonight and we’ll pick up their trail on the other side of Boonesborough early in the morn.”

  William didn’t like the idea of waiting, but Sam had a point. He didn’t want Kelly to feel he was forcing her to choose between her father and him. He rubbed his forehead thinking about it. “All right. But we leave well before dawn.

  Chapter 7

  Kelly and her father headed due south on the Wilderness Trail. Bright moon rays shone through the tall pines and cast jagged shadows on their winding path. The temperature had crept lower over the last two hours and she shivered as she rode. With each step of her horse, her heart sunk lower too. She doubted her heart would be able to feel anything at all by the time they reached her old cabin.

  She was doing the right thing, the only thing she could do. Then why did it leave her feeling so bereft? Why did her heart feel so very cold?

  “That’s a fine-looking mare your riding. How did you come by it?”

  “Sam’s wife Catherine gave it to me.”

  “Gave it to you? Now why would she do a thing like that?”

  “Because she’s a generous and kind woman, and she knew I needed a horse.”

  Her father snorted and shook his head in disbelief. “I assume you sold the mule, cow, and your chickens since they weren’t with you. What did you do with the money?”

  “No, I gave my animals to William’s brother, Stephen, and his wife Jane,” Kelly answered reluctantly. “They had done so much for me and I wanted to thank them.”

  “Gave them away! You stupid little girl. Now how are you going to get eggs and milk? I guess you’ll just do without.”

  “I have a little money. I can buy a cow and chickens,” she said.

  “No, you’ll give it to me when we stop for the night.” He gave her a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll decide what we buy.”

  Kelly worried that he would use the money to buy whiskey. Stephen had found the coins when he searched the pockets of her dead rapists and gave them to her, saying the money would be repayment for the food she’d prepared for the two murderers. The coins were the first she’d ever held or owned.

  “How did you find me?” she asked.

  “Your note explained that you went to Boonesborough with the Wyllies. I just asked a few folks where the Wyllies were camped.”

  “I had just gotten there. Until tonight, I was working as a tutor and living in a fine home.”

  “What happened?”

  “It didn’t work out as I planned.”

  “Looks like nothing worked out as you planned.” With that, her father grew quiet again.

  Relieved that he didn’t ask any more questions, Kelly’s thoughts soon returned to William. She would never see him again, so she should stop thinking about him. But how could she? In her mind, his handsome face gazed back at her and his glorious eyes spoke to her as though he were right there in front of her. What were those eyes saying just before he knelt down next to her back at the camp? He had been about to say something when she caught sight of her father emerging from the woods.

  She had simply sat there—too astonished and shaken to move. She couldn’t believe he had come for her. It wasn’t because he loved her. Her father never showed her much affection or concern. And he rarely needed her to cook and wash clothes for him. He was home for only a few days every other month then he would return to trapping. It must be because she also helped with cleaning and curing his hides and pelts. She’d defleshed and then rubbed salt into so many fresh skins, her own skin grew cracked and dry. She didn’t begrudge doing the hard work, but he never thanked her or showed any appreciation. Well, she wasn’t about to spend the rest of her life doing a thankless dirty job. So why was she going back to doing just that?

  Still stunned by the events of the
entire day, she felt like she was in some sort of bizarre dream where nothing was quite right. It was so very late she wished she were dreaming right now. She was so sleepy. She could close her eyes for…

  “Kelly!”

  She jumped in the saddle at the sound of her father’s harsh voice.

  “You were nodding off. We better make camp before you fall off your mare,” he said, guiding his mount well off the trail and into a small grove surrounded by large boulders. “This spot should provide a little shelter.”

  They dismounted and unsaddled the horses. Kelly rubbed her lower back, aching from being in the saddle for so long. After relieving herself, she hauled a small blanket out of her bag. Not much of a bed, but it would be better than the damp cold ground.

  “It’s too late to worry about a fire or a meal,” McGuffin said. “Here’s a piece of dried meat. Eat and then get some rest. I’m just going to have myself a drink or two and then I’ll do the same.”

  Oh my Lord, no. Not now, not out here in the middle of the night, when they were alone and exposed. She smiled, betraying nothing of her annoyance. “Papa, perhaps you should stay alert in case we’re threatened by a wild animal, or outlaws, or Indians. Bear said some of the Indians are stirred up again.”

  “I’m more alert with a drink or two in me. Don’t you worry none. Now eat.”

  Kelly chewed a couple of bites of the salty meat, but without something to drink, she couldn’t force any more down her parched throat. “Did you bring any water?”

  “No, I try not to touch the stuff, except now and then from a fast-running creek. When I’m in the saddle, I prefer a man’s drink—whiskey.”

  She shook her head and then threw her blanket open and spread it on a smooth spot of pine needles. She stretched out and wrapped a corner of the blanket over her shoulders. At least part of her would be warm. But could she sleep knowing how vulnerable they were? She decided she’d better keep one eye and one ear open. Maybe half of her could rest at least.

  “You know,” her father began as he leaned his back against a small boulder and then took a swallow of the whiskey, “I was surprised you could run off like that. Leave your poor dead mother all alone. No one to tend her grave.”

  A soft gasp escaped her. She stared, wordlessly, into the darkness. Had she abandoned her mother? A stab of guilt buried itself in her breast.

  When her mother had died, she felt a raw and acute sense of loss. A loss made all the deeper because her mother was her only friend and constant companion. But it had been four years since her passing, and when the Wyllies offered a chance at a new life, she knew in her heart that her mother would approve.

  “My mother would want me to be happy,” she replied in a low bitter voice.

  She heard him guzzling more whiskey, then he said, “And you think I don’t want you to be happy. Is that what you think?”

  His voice was thick with mockery and derision and the sound of it made her insides twist with misery. She could see her father’s face in the moonlight a few feet away, watching her, his expression mean, his eyes squinting.

  Crestfallen, she swallowed the sob that rose in her throat as her spirits sank even lower. She closed her eyes, trying to escape her father’s terrible glare.

  “I miss her. Your mother was the only good thing that ever happened to me.”

  A suffocating sensation tightened her chest. “I miss her too.”

  She heard more gulps of whiskey. Good heavens, he’ll be drunk soon. That’s when he was most likely to beat her. What would she do? She couldn’t flee into a dark forest at night. “Papa, please stop drinking.”

  “Nope.” He shot her a defiant look.

  His refusal infuriated her. Suddenly overwhelmed by the torment of the past few hours, she stood, tossed the blanket aside, and glared at him. Her fists clenched at her sides, she let her eyes burn with the reproach she felt. She didn’t care whether he hurt her or not. “Stop drinking this instant and act like the father you are. If you think so much of my mother, honor her memory by caring for her daughter!” She spat out the words contemptuously because that’s all she felt for the man—contempt.

  He glowered at her and then turned away, swallowing even more whiskey.

  “If you can’t treat me like your daughter, then at least treat me like hers!” she yelled.

  She was breathless now with mounting rage. Seething, she drew air through her clenched teeth.

  “You left me—just like she did. Left me without so much as a goodbye. You can’t imagine how awful I felt coming home to an empty cabin with nothing more than a note left of you.” His spiteful voice echoed through the trees.

  Kelly drew a breath. “That’s what you earned. You reap what you sow. When was the last time you showed me any love? It’s been years. The saddest thing is that I remember what you were like before my mother died. You were kind and loving. But you changed. The last few years, every time you came home from one of your hunting trips, I prayed the man that returned would be my old father and that you would love me again. You only want me back now to do your work for you—to prepare the hides for market—so you can buy more liquor. So you can just get drunk all over again. It’s an endless and depressing cycle and I swear I’ll no longer be a part of it!”

  “You’re an ungrateful little whelp. You’re nothing like your mother.”

  “Stop! Stop hurting me with your cruel words. You cannot unsay an unkind word. And, for mercy’s sake, stop drinking.”

  He took another sip of whiskey and plugged the jug. “I’ll stop for now.”

  His words were slow and slurred and in less than a minute, he was asleep. At least she would no longer have to endure the torment of his presence.

  She was so furious she would never be able to sleep. She found his rifle and checked the powder, then took his pistol and did the same. She put both across her lap and found a boulder to lean against. Her vision was excellent and she scanned the darkness for any movement and listened to the sounds of the night. There weren’t any. She guessed she’d scared off everything including the night critters with her loud outburst.

  She wished she had scared off her father.

  The only thing darker than her mood was the night. She felt utterly alone despite her father’s presence. She should never have gone with him. She should have stayed with William, he would have found her a place to stay. Leaving with her father was beyond foolish, but she felt an obligation to the man. He was her father after all. And she’d desperately hoped that maybe he had overcome his habit of drinking too much. But now, after the way he’d treated her over the last couple of hours, every shred of fondness she’d once held for her father grew as dark as the night.

  With the moon casting the eerie forest and shadowy brush in shades of blue, grey, and black, it came as no surprise to Kelly that the night was a long one for her. After thinking about how much she would miss William, losing her position as the children’s tutor, and then the sudden appearance of her now soused father, she decided, as William had suggested, to try to figure out what the heck was bothering her even before all that happened.

  She recognized that she had behaved oddly at William’s swearing-in ceremony. And her nightmares had been bad for some time. She really couldn’t blame Mister Wolfe and his mother for being concerned that her screams were scaring his daughters. The last dream terrified her so much she woke covered in sweat, crying, and shaking.

  The root of her nightmares and fear had to be the rape. But why was it getting worse with time instead of better? William had said that pain can make you weaker or stronger. Clearly, she’d been letting the traumatic experience make her weaker, little by little, like a hole in a dam that grew larger as more and more water rushed through it.

  But even if the rape was indeed the root of her problem, she still wasn’t convinced the assault was the cause of all her fears. There had to be something else. She’d felt more uncomfortable and vulnerable at the swearing-in ceremony than she had anywhere else. She sho
uld have felt comfortable with William, Sam, and Bear all there. She should have been excited and happy for William. But instead, she’d felt bone-deep panic.

  She pondered just what it was that had made her feel so exposed, so much at risk.

  At the ceremony, William was the focus of everyone’s attention and admiration—even Daniel Boone’s. Her memory of him standing next to her, looking so devilishly handsome, was clear and vibrant. He had made her feel what she could only describe as an intense awareness of him. All of him. As she traveled with his family and then camped with them once they’d reached Boonesborough, she’d been around him for months. From the beginning, she’d regarded him as her rescuer and hero, admiring him for his bravery and gallantry. And more than once, she cautiously stole secretive glances at him, appreciating his handsome face and muscular body.

  But at the ceremony, she found herself drawn to him in a completely new way. A deeper connection seemed to form between them and it had caused her heart to pound in her chest with the fury of a growing storm. And then, from nowhere, she’d suddenly become frightened. He had given her no reason to fear him. Yet she did. The lightning bolts of desire that had exploded within her had terrified her. Such longings seemed perilous—fraught with hidden danger—and her first impulse was to throttle those strange feelings. Her second instinct was to run from them. And run she did.

  But she could not outrun her heart.

  Even now, she felt the dull ache of that same desire at the thought of him, but her familiar fears were also there, lurking just below the surface.

  Was she feeling fear because she was starting to have real feelings for William? Was that yearning burning inside her because she wanted him? Had she reached the point where she had to admit how she truly felt about him?

  She’d recently begun to recognize her own needs and couldn’t deny the strong passion within her that called for release. She wanted to love someone. Not just emotionally…but physically.

  The notion shocked her. Yet it felt real and honest.