Wilderness Trail of Love (American Wilderness Series Romance Book 1)

by Dorothy Wiley

  CHAPTER 18

  As daylight surrendered to night, every passing minute changed the sky from shades of blue to a soft array of violets, giving a dreamy quality to the evening. A luminous crescent moon glowed bright on the horizon while a warm breeze stroked the strings of tall pines and lush hardwoods, playing a soothing melody for the couple as they strolled.

  Jane’s beauty was the only thing challenging the stunning scenery. To Stephen, she appeared more radiant than ever. He’d never grow tired of looking at her.

  A seemingly endless variety of fragrant flowers, vines, and ferns wove their way between dogwoods, pines, and large rocks painting a colorful foreground for the surrounding slopes and mountains beyond. She bent to pick a flower. Its velvety petals reminded him of her lips.

  “Have you ever seen a more peaceful place?” she asked. “Could there be any place in the world more breathtaking?”

  “It’d be worthless to a cattle man—too many trees, boulders, and rock. I wouldn’t pay ten cents an acre for this land.”

  Jane turned and lifted her chin. “Who said anything about cattle? I was just talking about the beauty of this place.”

  Mystified as to why his comment about land annoyed her, he took a quick breath and then shrugged. She was volatile by nature, and sometimes he struggled to understand her shifts in mood. “My point is that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, even when it comes to land. I admit, the scenery is pleasant here, but it’s not what I need.”

  “Sometimes, you’re too focused on the future and don’t just enjoy the now.”

  “My duty is to think about our future. A man cannot do justice to the present if he doesn’t make plans for tomorrow.”

  “What do you mean ‘do justice to the present’?”

  “I believe every person has both a present and a time yet to come. If we don’t prepare for that time to come, we may lose now.”

  “Why?” Jane asked.

  “Every moment of the future is linked to what we do with our lives now.”

  “Don’t miss the present while you’re taking care of what’s coming. What good is a future without a present? Someday you’ll look back and wish you still had the past you missed. Let’s just take joy in this day.”

  She had a point. “All right. All right. Give me your hand. We’ll walk awhile.”

  They strolled in silence further from the camp. The moon, now higher in the sky, shimmered with the softness of candlelight.

  “Do you miss home?” Jane asked.

  “I miss our comfortable bed and what we did in it.” He raised a brow and grinned. He wasn’t being very subtle. But the truth was he did miss it. Some of the best times of his life had been in that bed.

  “We can’t do much about the bed, but maybe we can manage to do something about the other.” Her eyes twinkled wickedly.

  “You were right about enjoying the now,” he said, laughing. “But first, do you miss home?” Worried about what her answer would be, he waited anxiously for it. He wasn’t sure how he would feel if she was truly homesick. Could he turn around, go back, if she asked him to? No, he could not.

  “Honestly, yes, exceedingly. How could I not? You made this decision and while I will have to live with it, I ache for our home sometimes. I miss little things. Like sitting on the porch and sipping tea out of mother’s china. Bomazeen made me break that cup. When it shattered, maybe my future there shattered too. That’s all a part of my past now, buried forever.” She moved closer and smiled up at him. “Yes, I miss all we left behind, but my future belongs with you. And so does the present.” Her voice underlined the word ‘present’ as she dropped her cloak to the ground.

  She kissed him softly and he savored the warmth and softness of her full lips.

  Jane pulled his powder horn’s strap over his head and leaned their rifles against a tree.

  He watched, mesmerized, as she removed her gown and hung it on a nearby Hickory limb. His pulse kicked up and his breathing quickened as she shed her stays and petticoats, revealing her shapely form.

  He stared. How gorgeous she appeared at that moment. Her hair shining in a shaft of soft moonlight, her sumptuous lips speaking without words. Her soft ivory shoulders and the fullness of her cleavage beckoning him. She was exquisite, enthralling.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, as she stepped into his embrace.

  His fingertip tenderly traced the outline of her gentle, but proud face, committing every detail to memory. Her pale smooth complexion seemed almost translucent in the moonlight. Red-gold ringlets curled on her forehead and her lashes swept down against her pink cheekbones. Then she glanced up and he gazed deep into the shining emeralds of her eyes, bright with her growing desire. Her enticing lips, full and rosy, parted at his touch. He kissed his fingertip and then ran it across her lower lip.

  He caressed her lovely long neck and planted a soft kiss at the hollow beneath her throat. Then he drew his finger slowly across the full curve of one breast and then the other. They felt firm and soft at the same time, and he marveled at their allure.

  She trembled in his arms and released a soft sigh.

  Using both hands, his intimate exploration continued. He caressed her back, pulling her closer as his fingers inched down until he reached her waist. Then he ran both hands over her hips and down her thighs, feeling a tremor ripple inside her.

  And every place her fingers touched heated and produced a pleasurable sensation until it was time to yield to the passion that embraced them both.

  Stephen removed his clothing, his eyes never leaving her, while she spread her cloak across a bed of pine needles. The soft breeze, gently caressing his bare skin felt cool, but not enough to dampen his heated body.

  As a precaution, he laid his loaded pistols nearby and positioned their rifles on either side of them.

  Then he joined her on the cloak and wrapped his arms around her. He enveloped her in love, possessively, protectively, wanting to bring her close to his heart. He savored the feeling of just holding her.

  She tilted her head back, opened her lips, and he kissed her—a kiss as deep and powerful as his need for her. He sensed her deep hunger in the fervor of her kiss and it only added fuel to his mounting desire.

  He tenderly kissed the sensitive spot below her ears before gently nibbling on her neck and then her shoulder. As he lowered his lips to the curves of her chest, she moaned pleasurably. But he took his time, enjoying every minute.

  Her body was luscious and the taste and feel of her stirred him even further. He reached down and found her soft round bottom. Filling his hand with it, he pressed her against him. Another moan, this one deeper, more urgent.

  She ran her hands through his hair and down his back, then she gripped his hips, drawing him still closer, hugging him even tighter.

  “My love,” he whispered the words on a breath against her cheek.

  The passion between them was undeniable and grew more fervent with each joining—like a perfect secret only the two of them shared. He was hers and she was his. And that would never change.

  “Stephen, I love you so much it hurts.”

  “I know of only one cure.”

  “Aye,” she whispered.

  As he linked his body to hers, he did so slowly, savoring the amazing feel of her.

  She whimpered and arched against him.

  He closed his eyes, reveling in that extraordinary feeling when they were one—the only time they were completely together—two halves of one whole. Each moment joined with her was perfect pleasure and he wanted every second to last forever. Every kiss to be endless.

  He found the irresistible taste of her lips both sensual and soothing to his spirit. Not only did his body keenly crave hers, so did his soul. For the need she satisfied was not just physical, it was an urgent need for his soul to bond to hers—to create a link so strong it could not be undone.

  She grabbed his biceps, gripping his muscles, hanging on to his arms as her body climbed an exquisite m
ountain of pleasure.

  As she reached the mountain’s pinnacle, his entire body grew taut, every muscle submitting to an odd power capable of taking over his will, until it had complete control of him and he had no choice but to yield to its power. He gave her all he had and surrendered.

  Then a nearly violent tremor possessed her followed slowly by a melting softness. Her entire body grew limp, as if she had no choice but to rest after the thrilling climb.

  He held her tightly, guarding her, until her mind and body returned from the mountain top. They had done justice to the present and it made him look forward to the future all the more.

  CHAPTER 19

  Stephen woke reluctantly, not wanting to leave his pleasant dream. He glanced around, realizing they had all slept longer than normal, as the sunrise stayed hidden behind a massive wall of darkening clouds. He’d dreamt of Jane. The taste and feel of her the evening before left him wanting more, a lot more. But as the menacing storm approached against a wolf gray dawn, the clouds opened up and it began to rain and with dismal insistence rudely extinguished the heat of his desire. Then the cold drops woke the other sleeping travelers one by one.

  Unable to make breakfast without a fire, they settled for cold jerky, corn meal cakes, and water. It would be a long day with five wet men who had missed their morning coffee. Skipping the brew never seemed to bother Jane because she wasn’t fond of coffee anyway. She preferred tea.

  “Let’s go. We might as well get wet moving as sitting here,” Stephen said, even more impatient than usual.

  “Are you sure?” Jane asked, eyeing the mountainous dark clouds and lightning in the distance. “Maybe we should wait it out.”

  “If we stop every time rain blows in, we’ll never get there,” Stephen said. “This downpour won’t let up anytime soon.”

  “No it won’t,” Sam agreed. “It’s going to be a real frog strangler, but we have no decent cover here. I’d as soon get wet sitting on a horse as hiding under a wagon.”

  For several long hours, they endured the thunderstorm, making slow miserable progress. The gloomy morning looked more like late evening. Water flowed in steady streams through every low point on the trail. The oxen trudged through sticky mud, every step they took becoming more difficult. Goosebumps rose on Stephen’s arms as the temperature dropped, making them all cold as well as wet.

  The trail ahead became increasingly difficult to see as the rain turned into heavy torrents. Then the wind picked up, blowing rainwater horizontally and throwing small branches and wet leaves in every direction, as though the storm could not decide which way to turn.

  Stephen rode next to Jane and noticed her hands trembling so hard she had difficulty keeping the team moving. He tied George to the side of the wagon and jumped up beside her. “Get in the back and dry off,” he ordered.

  For once, she gave him no argument. She nodded, handed him the guide rope, and kissed him before climbing into the back. Her lips felt wonderful against his cold face, and he wished she could linger there longer, deepen the kiss. At least the thought warmed him.

  “Get under the blankets,” Jane told the children.

  “But I’m afraid,” he heard Polly whine.

  “Remember what I taught you, ‘fear sees the storm, faith sees God in the storm’,” Jane said.

  “This doesn’t look much like God to me,” he heard Martha say.

  Stephen had to agree with her.

  “Step up!” he urged the oxen. It worked for a few yards and then they slowed again, unable or unwilling to improve their pace in the downpour.

  The heavy rain suddenly slowed to a steady drizzle and he turned to look inside the wagon. Jane was trying to dry off as best she could, but it was hopeless, her gown and cloak were soaked. “Get out of that wet gown,” he suggested.

  “I guess I’ll have to. Little John, cover your head with that blanket, so I can change my clothes.”

  Stephen glanced back inside to be sure the boy complied as she hauled a dry gown out of her wooden trunk.

  “He’s peeking Father,” Polly accused, pointing her finger at her cousin.

  “Am not you tattle tale,” he shouted, taking the opportunity to lower the blanket again.

  “Little John, if you don’t keep your head under that blanket, I’ll shave all the hair off your handsome little head,” Jane threatened.

  All the girls laughed.

  “Best you do as she says, boy,” Stephen said, then grinned.

  Little John moved closer to Stephen and threw the blanket over his head. “There are too many girls in here.”

  He had to sympathize, four girls, plus Jane. No wonder Little John felt outnumbered. He knew exactly how his nephew felt.

  As quickly as the deluge slowed, a heavy downpour started up again.

  Sam pulled his horse up alongside. “I’ll scout ahead, see if I can find shelter.”

  “Good, this wagon is starting to float,” Stephen yelled back.

  Sam urged his mount to a trot. The big gelding responded eagerly, undoubtedly anxious to find shelter too. Sam kept the horse at a brisk pace until the muddy trail began a gradual slope downhill. The treacherous path would hold numerous hidden rocks and cracks under the flowing water. He slowed the gelding to a walk and prayed his mount wouldn’t stumble and break a leg.

  Iridescent white lightning exploded overhead like burning arrows, shooting across the dark sky.

  Sam sensed his horse growing tenser under him at each angry bolt. He had to admit, the terrible thunderstorm made him edgy as well.

  The trail turned to follow the side of the hill and Sam hoped it signaled a chance for shelter. But each bend in the road only revealed more trail and each section of the trail only led to more woodlands. Sam began to wonder if he should turn back. Finally, he saw a clearing of grass and gravel underneath a large rock overhang. The stone outcropping slanted sharply from the side of the hill, rain falling off its edge in a steady waterfall. It appeared just big enough to pull the wagon under and maybe keep the horses out of the deluge too. He turned around and urged his mount back up the trail toward the others.

  In the next moment, lightning hit so hard and so close, the ground quaked, nearly knocking Sam out of the saddle. The bolt’s reverberation exploded painfully in his ears as though someone had fired heavy artillery next to his head. Sam tried to cover his face with his trembling arms as splintered smoldering wood and pine bark flew through the air. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the huge tree beginning to fall. He urged the gelding forward in an effort to escape. But it was too late. He and the horse joined the large tree’s deafening collision with the ground. Landing solidly on the mount’s hindquarters, he heard the horrific sound of the pine’s trunk shattering his horse’s back and hips. Instantaneously, his gelding was dead and he lay trapped beneath thick heavy branches.

  Sam remained motionless, unable to hear or to think clearly. But he needed to get moving. He shook his head to try to clear it. Winded in the fall, he struggled to draw shallow breaths while he assessed his predicament. He could smell the tree smoldering. Fire? He couldn’t move his foot and knee, pinned under the horse and saddle. His ankle screamed like someone had just planted a hatchet in it. A large branch immobilized his right arm, but he didn’t think the arm was broken, he could still move his fingers without pain.

  Sam tried to move his other arm toward the saddle but could only just touch the saddle horn. Every movement brought agonizing discomfort in his leg and ankle. He pushed against the horse with his right leg, but the weight of the tree trunk rested fully on the gelding’s hip.

  The cold rain pelted him incessantly, yet he could feel himself sweating from the effort to free himself. His head pounded and his ears would not quit vibrating, and he still found it hard to breathe. The air smelt burnt and hurt his lungs.

  Sam clenched his jaw at the pain and looked for his Kentucky rifle. If he could manage to fire it, he could signal the others. But the rifle lay on the ground just ou
t of reach. He grabbed his pistol, although he realized they would probably not be able to hear it through the storm. Sam pulled the trigger anyway, but the gun did not fire. The powder was too damp. It reminded him why he preferred his knife to the pistol. But even his knife would be of no help to him now.

  The deluge pounded his eyes and sent water running into his nose, making him choke. Sam turned his face to the side, but his ear began to fill with the standing water all around him. He held his head up, but after a minute, he laid his head back down, too weak to continue to struggle. What felt like buckets of water, poured over his face. Rainwater continued to pool all around him, as the tree’s trunk and the horse’s body acted like a twisted bizarre dam, trapping the rising water. Much longer and he’d drown before anyone found him.

  “Damn,” he swore, as consciousness began slipping away.

  Stephen, help me.

  CHAPTER 20

  Stephen kept the group on the move through the terrible rainstorm, expecting Sam to come back any minute. But the minutes became interminable, with no sign of his brother. The nearly continuous lightning was the worst he had ever seen. A fiery bolt pierced violently through a black cloud up ahead, traveling perfectly vertical. It hit something close by as the explosive clap of the thunderbolt followed nearly instantly.

  Stephen began to worry. “He should be back by now,” he yelled at William, who rode alongside him in case he needed help with the wagon and team.

  John and Bear pulled their horses up beside William.

  “We’ll scout ahead, check on Sam,” John shouted.

  “Good,” Stephen said. “Hurry, something’s wrong.”

  He watched the two start a slow trot through the downpour. Hopefully, they would keep a careful eye on the barely visible road, now covered in a brown river of liquefied mud. They would only be able to see a couple of horse lengths ahead of them.