He peered ahead trying to spot something, anything. Then he saw it. A body lying on the ground, partially obscured by the lay of the land. Was it a man or a woman? For a few moments, terror clutched his heart.
With every stride of the horse, he grew more certain. A man.
“Kelly!” he called, his heart beating wildly.
“Kelly!” Merrill tried as well.
“Yell with me,” William said. Then they both yelled her name out at the same time.
They reached the body and took only a moment to look down at the brave. A hatchet protruded from the dead Indian’s chest. Could Kelly have done that? It looked like the tomahawk Sam had given her. The same one he’d sharpened for her recently. But even a sharp weapon is useless without courage. And this would have taken a great deal courage.
He took off again and Smoke surged to a full run. He called her name yet once more. “Kelly.” The boom of his voice traveled through the forest. This time when it did, he soon caught sight of her, racing back toward them at a thunderous pace.
Thank you, Lord.
The tight knot within him began to ease and when she was close enough for him to see her beautiful face, relief filled him. He urged his stallion up next to her and leapt down, carrying Riley with him.
She dismounted as well and threw herself into his outstretched arms.
William hugged her fiercely and then enfolded both her and Riley against his chest, kissing the top of her head and her face repeatedly.
“My boys,” she breathed. She took a moment to catch her breath. Then her expression darkened with an unreadable emotion and she swallowed before she could speak. “I killed a man.”
Everywhere he touched, he felt a terrible tenseness in her body. “We know. We saw the brave’s body about a mile or so back. You defended yourself, Kelly. There’s no shame in that. You can tell us how you managed it later. Mister Merrill, this is my wife Kelly,” William said. “Mister Merrill’s daughter is the one taken captive.”
“We have to help her William.” She turned to Merrill. “I promise you, we will get her back,” Kelly swore.
William was surprised at the vehemence in her voice. She could not have sounded any more determined if the child were her own daughter.
“Let’s go,” Merrill urged, still horseback and looking ahead anxiously.
They both remounted and took off, letting Kelly take the lead. She’d done a great job so far tracking the Indians.
William kept Riley with him and the pup settled onto the saddle in front of him again.
“Do you think the one I killed was one of the band of five?” she called toward him.
“Yes. They probably sent him back to be sure they weren’t being followed,” William answered.
“With him dead, that leaves four to deal with,” Merrill said. “Mrs. Wyllie, your bravery is the stuff of legends. I’m so grateful for your help.”
Kelly turned her head back toward Merrill. “What’s your little girl’s name?”
“Hannah. She’s the best daughter a man could hope for.” Merrill sounded on the verge of tears.
“We have to hurry!” Kelly called to them, and urged Ginger to an even faster pace.
William drew Smoke alongside Kelly and continued to peer well ahead of them, wanting to spot the Indians before the natives heard them coming.
After about a half-hour, he thought he perceived movement some distance ahead. He held up his hand, motioning for them to stop and be quiet. He pointed.
“Is it them?” Kelly whispered.
“Please God, let it be so,” Merrill murmured.
“I think I see smoke. They must have stopped to rest,” William said.
“And eat our hams,” Kelly grumbled under her breath.
“William, what’s your plan?” Merrill asked in a hushed voice.
“Let’s tie our mounts and Riley back a ways in case they make noise,” he said. “Kelly, you’ll wait with the horses and Riley.”
“No,” she said, her face full of defiance. “You may need my help.”
William frowned, realizing she was right, but not wanting to place her in harm’s way.
She boldly met his eyes and showed no sign of relenting—her courage and determination like stalwart pillars of strength that held her up.
Accepting that he stood no chance of changing her mind, he quietly turned Smoke backward.
They led the horses behind some large boulders. After tying their mounts and Riley to trees, the three retrieved their rifles from the saddles. William checked the powder in his long rifle and then Kelly’s shorter barreled rifle, while she reloaded her pistol. He gave a moment’s thought to making her stay behind. The thought of an arrow hitting her made his heart tremble. But, since the Indians were now stopped, with three shooters they would stand a good chance of quickly overcoming the band with a surprise attack.
“Kelly, you stay with me. Understand?” He looked directly into her eyes to be sure she consented. “You’ve been extraordinarily brave so far, but I don’t want you taking any more chances.”
She shook her head in agreement.
He glanced over at Riley. Exhausted, the pup already slept soundly. It was a fortunate thing young dogs slept so much. They didn’t need him barking now.
“Okay, we have three rifle shots and both of you have pistols and I have two. That’s seven shots for four Indians. We will have the advantage of surprise, but we will have to make each shot count.”
“Please keep Hannah out of the line of fire,” Merrill urged.
Keeping his voice low, William said, “Mister Merrill, as soon as we can get you close enough, call for your daughter. If she does what I think she will, she’ll run toward you. I’ll shoot the Indian closest to Hannah. Kelly, you shoot the one furthest from Hannah with your rifle, that way you can remain far back. After you fire, reload without delay and if you have another shot at a brave with your rifle, take it. But don’t fire your pistol unless an Indian is coming right for you. I want you to save a shot so you’ll have it if you really need it.”
He turned to address the girl’s father. “Sir, that will leave two braves to kill. You shoot the one nearest you and I’ll take the last one. If any of us misses, we should still have three shots left between us.”
He placed his hands on Kelly’s arms. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”
Kelly nodded and eyed him confidently. Her face intense, she pulled back her shoulders and took a firm grip on her rifle. She looked like a beautiful warrior.
For the second time, he wondered if letting her come was a mistake. But he had no right, even though he was her husband, to either let her or stop her. It was her decision. And he admired her courage.
“Excellent plan,” Merrill said, his profile strong and resolute. “We’re going to get my daughter back!”
“This plan hinges on them not hearing us,” Kelly said softly. “So watch what you step on as we advance. And keep a tree between you and them as much as possible. Their quivers are full of arrows.”
William smiled, pleased with Kelly’s cool-headed thinking and bravery. In the face of danger, her strength blossomed once again.
He gave her a quick hug and took off quietly.
Chapter 28
Kelly didn’t like leaving Riley behind. But they had no other choice. With luck, the puppy would still be asleep when they got back.
For a moment, as they advanced quietly toward the Indian camp, her determination faltered. Perhaps she should have waited with the horses. She had a baby to think of now. No, she had to help William. An extra shot from her rifle might mean the difference between success and failure. Between her child and the little girl having their fathers.
She forced her nerves to settle down. She’d proved to herself that she could muster courage when needed, and she would do it again in but a few minutes. She prayed the three of them would stay safe in the skirmish.
She followed behind William, with Mister Merrill to their right, a few tr
ee trunks away. William took his time, keeping his footsteps as light and soundless as possible. He seemed remarkably composed. Every muscle of his body spoke of strength and confidence.
Merrill’s face, on the other hand, appeared tense and drained of color. She couldn’t blame him. This was a risky undertaking. But her own nerves felt steady and sure. She could do this. She had to for the little girl’s sake.
They were close enough now to smell the smoke of the campfire and she thought she heard the miserable whimpers of the girl. Soon, she could hear them clearly and the woeful sobs ripped at her heart. She couldn’t imagine how terrible it must sound to her father’s ears.
They quickly located Hannah’s position and William motioned for Merrill to head in that direction. The father, stooped low and moving stealthily, made his way toward his daughter.
Biting her lip, Kelly waited where William had mouthed for her to stay, while he silently made his way to a position where he would have a clear shot at the Indian sitting next to Hannah.
Warily, she peered around the large oak she hid behind, her cheek up against the rough bark, still cold and damp from the earlier frost. Numerous vines hung down from the tree, helping to conceal her, but she could still see the braves chewing on her hams. They seemed to be relishing the tasty smoked meat.
Their thievery made her angry all over again. They would pay dearly for taking a man’s child and another’s food.
Little by little, she knelt to one knee and slowly brought the rifle to her shoulder. She selected the Indian who would be her target and waited for William to take the first shot. She hoped it wouldn’t be long. She could feel her palms beginning to sweat despite the chilly temperature.
“Hannah, Hannah!” Merrill shouted and exposed his body for her to see.
The Indian sitting next to Hannah grabbed his bow and jumped up from where he sat.
William fired instantly, hitting the brave in his exposed chest as the Indian pulled an arrow from his full quiver.
As the girl’s guard fell, Kelly carefully took her shot at another brave, his hands still holding a hunk of her ham. The Indian dropped like a felled tree to the leaf-covered ground.
“Papa! Papa!” Hannah ran toward her father as fast as her little legs could carry her.
As she scampered toward him, her tiny arms outstretched, Merrill stood and fired his long rifle at one of the braves. But his shot missed.
The Indian that was his target pulled back his bow. He aimed at the running child.
Kelly’s heart stopped as she watched in horror. God no!
William fired his pistol and, his aim true, hit the brave square in the chest just as the Indian released his arrow.
The shaft flew through the air faster than Kelly’s eyes could follow it, yet time seemed suspended. The whole world moved in slow motion, a second divided into a thousand torturous moments. At the final instant, she saw the father jerk his daughter safely behind a tree just a breath before the arrow flew past her and slammed into another tree’s trunk. The frightening sound of its impact vibrated through the forest and Kelly’s heart.
Merrill snatched his child up and wrapped the girl in his arms as he spun around to take cover behind a nearby larger elm. Thank God, the child was safe.
Kelly turned her eyes and caught a glimpse of the final brave as he ran behind a boulder. It was the Indians’ leader—the one with the feather-adorned head—who had clutched the little girl against him on his horse. She suspected he would be the most difficult to fight. But she had faith in William.
A second later, she heard the whoosh of an arrow. It whizzed through the air in a twinkling and hit the tree closest to William with a loud thump. Involuntarily, she gasped. The sight chilled her to her core.
William still had two pistol shots. But the Indian wasn’t within the weapon’s range. To use his pistols, he would have to get close. Much closer than he was now. She flinched when William took a quick dash to reach a closer tree. Her breath froze in her throat and her heart clenched. This was so risky.
She was more afraid for him than she was for herself.
To her great relief, she saw William reloading his Kentucky long rifle.
That reminded her that she needed to do the same. Reluctant to take her eyes off watching for the brave, she hadn’t yet reloaded her rifle. She forced herself to quickly look down and get the weapon loaded. It seemed to take her forever.
When she finished, she listened for sounds of the native, but only heard her own rapid heartbeats thrashing in her ears. The silence rattled her tensed nerves even more.
Then the brave stood. Dear God, he was much closer to her now, angled so he could see her side. Breath-robbing fear gripped her as he released an arrow in her direction. Reflexively, she whirled around to escape behind the tree, her eyes squeezed closed, her fingernails digging into the tree bark to hold her shaking body in place.
She heard William fire his rifle, but the shot, echoing through the forest, didn’t sound like it hit anything.
When she opened her eyes, she glanced down and realized the arrow pinned her skirt to the tree. Shaken, she reached with trembling hands, broke the arrow’s shaft, tossed it aside, and pulled her skirt free. The sound of the fabric ripping seemed impossibly loud. She quickly tucked her torn skirt behind her.
Another arrow whipped through the air and sunk into the tree she stood behind, just inches from her face. The arrow and her heart both quivered violently. She heard muted sounds nearby. Should she run? Fear wavered inside her as she tried to comprehend what she’d heard, what she should do. She did not want to die here. She could not let this Indian kill her. If she died, so would her baby. William didn’t even know yet.
She considered bolting out of hiding, running to William, away from this Indian closing in on her. Cringing against the tree trunk, she gasped for air, finding it hard to breathe. She placed a hand against her belly, conveying her love to her unborn child. Suddenly, she felt a fluttering feeling, like the wings of a butterfly brushing against the insides of her tummy. Remarkably, her fear vanished, and a mother’s protective instinct took over.
She took her rifle in both hands and keeping the sights in front of her eyes, and her finger poised on the trigger, quickly surveyed the area around her in every direction but spotted nothing.
She glanced up and observed William creeping nearer to where he thought the Indian still was.
But the brave wasn’t there anymore. She could smell him now. He was somewhere close to her.
Gritting his teeth, William quickly reloaded the rifle again. He needed to reach the brave before the ruthless bastard could shoot Kelly. The Indian already shot two arrows at her, one close enough to pin her dress. Damn it, he would not let this rattlesnake strike again. This time he wouldn’t miss.
The girl’s father had wisely hunkered down, his flintlock pistol in his hand, with his daughter. William motioned to him to remain where he was. Merrill nodded in understanding.
William glanced back over toward Kelly. A crushing wave of apprehension swept through him. Oh, bloody hell!
Riley was running up behind Kelly, wagging his tail and wiggling his rear end with excitement at having found her. The dog must have slipped out of the collar he’d put around his neck.
To his dismay, he saw Kelly turn toward Riley, take a few steps, bend down, and reach for her pup.
His stomach churned with alarm and frustration. “Kelly, turn around!”
Before he got the last word out, the Indian reappeared, this time much closer to Kelly. Anger scorched the edges of his control, but he refused to let it take him entirely. He forced himself to remain deadly calm. William raised his rifle, lined up the sights down the long barrel, and took careful aim. Just as his finger started to draw back the trigger, the Indian darted out from his hiding place.
Eyes widened with the intent of butchery, the brave released a terrible screeching yelp and rushed toward her, his tomahawk upstretched above his feathered head.
&
nbsp; The blow would be lethal.
At the sound of the native’s shriek, Kelly glanced up and screamed with stark black terror. Then she dropped Riley and fired her rifle, but missed.
He would have but one chance to save his wife. His love. He took a steadying breath, trailed the running brave’s back with his sights, and gently squeezed the trigger, willing the lead ball to find its mark.
The ball whacked into the top of the Indian’s back with a loud thud. He jerked and then wobbled for a moment. But to William’s horror, the brave, still holding the tomahawk, took another long stride toward Kelly.
She fired her pistol.
As the second bullet struck him, the brave lurched, pitched forward, and collapsed to the ground, planting the tomahawk in the fallen leaves, mere inches from Kelly’s boots.
She jumped back, grabbed Riley up with one arm, and clutched him against her breast.
William ran to her, holding his breath. By the time he reached her, he thought his chest would burst. “He almost had you!” he cried harshly and gave her a little shake. Ferocious protective emotions took over. The thought of losing her bloodied his wits. Crushed his courage. Tore at his insides. Turned his soul raw.
He could no longer control the pent up fury within him. He tossed his rifle down and clenched his fists tightly, breathing hard. “Oh God…Kelly…you nearly died!” he shouted.
She looked up at him, eyes frightened, and shriveled a little.
Terrible guilt immediately assailed him. His anger was the last thing she needed now. With difficulty, taking a deep breath or two, he made himself regain self-control. He pursed his lips in exasperation and quickly chastised himself for acting like a brute.
She still clung to the puppy.
He took Riley from her, sat him down on the ground, and then stood. “I’m sorry,” he said, but she didn’t respond. Worried, he appraised her with a penetrating look.
Romancing the Wilderness: American Wilderness Series Boxed Bundle Books 1 - 3 Page 77
