Whispering Hills of Love (American Wilderness Series Romance Book 3)

by Dorothy Wiley

  “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 one 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 tree 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 gaurd 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 seem 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 he
r 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 down and 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 son of a bitch release another arrow. 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.

  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.

  She seemed pale, the color drained from her face, and her eyes appeared unnaturally bright and glassy. Her lower lip trembled as she dropped her rifle to the ground and held both of her shaking hands against her tummy. After what just happened, it was no wonder her stomach hurt.

  With an overwhelming surge of affection, he hauled her into his arms, wanting to weep with sheer relief. The fierceness of his emotions was something he never experienced before. His love for her at the moment, all consuming, overriding everything. He closed his eyes and concentrated on treasuring the feel of her in his arms. He felt her trembling, and it made his own heart shake within his chest.

  “You’re all right, my love,” he said, kissing the top of her head repeatedly, and stroking her back. “We’re both just fine. You’re in my arms.”

  Shock held her immobile for a few more minutes. She was so muddled and battered by her emotions, she couldn’t speak. Finally, she glanced down at the hatchet and shuddered, then gazed up at him and whispered, “Too close.”

  William had to agree with her. His own distress at the near attack on her almost overcoming his self-control.

  He glanced behind him. The last of the child’s abductors lay dead, red blood pooling on his bare back and seeping into the ground beneath him.

  Kelly was safe. The child was safe. He let out a deep breath and hugged his wife even tighter.

  It was over.

  CHAPTER 29

  Little by little, wrapped securely in William’s strong arms, Kelly recovered from the shock of her near death. With each gentle kiss he placed on her head, she felt her fear dissolve, like an oppressive grey fog yielding to the warmth of a bright sun.

  Finally able to think and breathe normally, she wanted to go to Hannah to see if the little girl was all right. They weren’t far off and she walked with William toward Merrill and his daughter. She would offer the distraught child whatever solace she could.

  When they neared the two, they heard the father’s reassuring voice as he attempted to comfort his traumatized child. Hannah sat in his lap, still sobbing. He whispered soothing words of endearment and stroked her small blonde head repeatedly.

  The child’s eyes were so red it hurt Kelly to look at her.

  “She won’t stop crying,” Merrill said, his voice full of concern, as he wiped his daughter’s runny nose with his handkerchief.

  Hannah buried her freckled face in her father’s jacket and, still bawling, clung to him with her little hands.

  Kelly bent down to the little girl. “Hannah, you have such a pretty name. And you’re quite a lovely girl too. You have hair the same color as mine. See, I’m blonde too,” Kelly said, holding out some of her long locks.

  Hannah turned her head slightly in Kelly’s direction.

  “But I can’t see what color your eyes are. Can you show me?” Kelly coaxed.

  Hannah turned around completely.

  “Your eyes are a beauti
ful green.”

  “You know, I got stolen away once too, by an awfully bad man. But, you know what?”

  “What?” Hannah asked. It was her first word.

  “I got rescued too. Just like you,” Kelly said. In a soothing voice, she probed further. “Isn’t it wonderful your father came and got you? He saved you and now you’re safe. Do you understand that you’re safe?”

  “I am?” Her small voice was fragile and tremulous.

  “Yes, you are,” William assured her, kneeling down next to her father. “I’m Sheriff Wyllie from Boonesborough and you are safe with us. Do you know what a sheriff is?”

  Hannah shook her head no.

  “It’s the man in a town who helps other people when they are in trouble,” William explained, keeping his tone gentle. “So I came with your Pa to help him rescue you. And this is my beautiful and brave wife Kelly.”

  “Do you like puppies?” Kelly asked.

  “Mm-hmm,” Hannah murmured.

  Kelly smiled broadly. “Me too. I adore puppies. Do you want to meet my puppy? He’s almost a dog now and he’s far braver than he should be for his age.”

  When Hannah nodded she would, Kelly called for Riley who frolicked a short distance away energetically exploring the forest floor with his nose.

  Riley immediately ran up and put both of his paws on the girl’s little lap and began licking her tear-streaked face.

  “He likes me,” Hannah said, with a little giggle.

  Hannah’s father looked at Kelly with gratitude in his eyes.

  “I’m not surprised Riley likes you. I like you too,” Kelly said.

  “His hair is the same color as ours,” Hannah said, sniffling, but not crying now.

  Good, she was thinking about something other than her horrific experience.