He had to say something, to ease the mounting tension between them. But what? Clearly, Jane blamed him for their daughters’ deaths. He couldn’t change that. Nothing he could do or say could change that. But he had to try. “Jane, I love you. What’s happened will never change that.”
Her mouth opened as she started to speak, and his heart ached to hear what she had to say. Then, without saying a word, a glazed look of despair spread over her face.
His spark of hope quickly evaporated.
Perhaps it would be best to leave her alone and let her sort through her feelings. She would talk to him when she was ready. At least he hoped she would. Could he lose her too? Would she leave him? Return to New Hampshire? He would die inside if that happened.
The first few days after his girls passed, still in shock, he couldn’t even talk—now he didn’t want to talk, he admitted. He was afraid he would say the wrong thing and make everything worse. Besides, he had no idea what to say. He could not comfort himself, much less her. He remained wretched, despondent, and full of misgivings. He certainly did not want her to know how much he doubted himself. He didn’t want anyone to know.
He slammed his pallet onto the ground, remembering his wound too late. At least the pain would distract him from his misery. Damn it, Edward had been right.
CHAPTER 25
The next evening, Stephen decided to try to talk to Jane again.
Her silence while she had cleaned his wound unnerved him. This had gone on long enough. She had kept busy all afternoon. He guessed she was trying to do her part because they all depended on her so much, but he could tell her heart wasn’t in it. It’s hard to care about anything when your heart is breaking. He guessed that it was only Martha, Polly, and Little John’s need for her care that kept her going at all.
Now, she sat off by herself, well away from the others, writing by the light of a small oil lamp. But as he approached, she stopped writing. Her hands swiped at her tears with her apron.
His courage sank in his chest, like a rock thrown in a pond, ripples of fear left in its wake. Maybe he should just leave her alone.
What could he say anyway? No words could make this better.
He had never been a man of empty words. He would rather say nothing at all.
But he had to at least attempt to find the words to comfort her, to comfort them both. He stopped in front of Jane and she glanced up with eyes red and swollen.
He leaned his rifle against a tree and slowly squatted down beside her. He almost didn’t recognize the woman before him. Tension lined her face and fear, stark and vivid, glittered in her eyes. Her chin quivered. It pained him to look at her. But if he was going to help her, he needed to take some of that hurt.
He braced himself, and prayed for courage.
“What are you writing about?” he asked gently.
Jane just glared at him. She swallowed hard, as if she were trying to hold back her emotions. She looked like she would gag on them. Gag on all the words she had held back since their babies had left them. He saw all the dark turbulent feelings she had tried so hard to suppress, a poisonous brew, boiling just under the surface.
He wished she would just let those feelings out. The more she tried to suppress them, the darker they would become.
He had to reach her or he might lose her forever. “Tell me,” he pleaded. “Please.”
She glared at him. Her eyes filled with so much distain he wanted to fall to his knees with sorrow.
Then a flood of bitter words pushed their way out between desperate sobs. “I just finished putting their death dates beside their names in our family Bible. Do you know what that took? How my hands shook from the sadness it caused me? Now, I’m writing about how my heart is bleeding from the pain. How I had to leave what was so precious to me back there in the dirt somewhere. I don’t even know where it was exactly. Or if I can ever find it again.”
The anger in her eyes burnt him like fire. “Jane.” He pleaded her name, hoping it would bring back the woman he knew.
She stood and turned away from him and then turned back as more anger came. “You took us to this misery. Why did you put our girls in this danger? Are we going to lose Polly and Martha too before we realize this was a horrible mistake? We almost lost them back there to those hostile Cherokees. God forbid, what if they’d taken them at the creek? Our children cannot even wash the dirt from their faces safely. We’ll need to stand guard over them every minute from now on. We came too close to losing all our girls. And Little John. And the girls nearly lost their father. A few more inches and that arrow would have been through your heart. I would have lost you!”
He reached for her, but she pulled away.
“And all you can do is race further into this hell you’ve brought us to.”
Her words sliced through his chest like a blade. He could have handled the agony of losing his girls eventually, but he could not handle this. Not this. “Jane, don’t do this,” he begged.
“I want out of this endless hell. Take me back,” she cried.
“There’s no turning back.”
“Are you so proud, so stubborn, you won’t admit this journey was horribly wrong?” she yelled.
“I don’t want to hear this.”
“For days you don’t talk to me, you don’t even look at me, and then you dare to tell me you don’t want to hear what I feel? I want my babies back,” she cried out with such fierceness he took a step away from her.
“Heaven has them now,” he said simply.
“Damn you, I know that, but I still want them. I want them so badly I wish I could join them. If it weren’t for Polly and Martha I would,” she said between desperate sobs.
He couldn’t believe what he had just heard. He tried reaching out to her again, but she wrenched away and turned her back to him.
Her palpable scorn filled the air between them like an oppressive fog.
“Stop this. You’re not yourself. I accept the blame for their deaths, but that won’t bring them back.” He was the head of this family. He was ultimately responsible for the decision. He had to accept the blame. He exposed his family to peril.
Maybe he had downplayed the risks because he wanted so desperately to leave. Had he used her safety as an excuse to leave? Had he used Bomazeen’s threat as a ticket out of there? But he believed this was what God wanted. Had his faith failed him too?
“You’re land greedy. What you did was take us on a dangerous trip for the sake of some piece of dirt,” she said, her voice growing cold. “You value the prospect of land more than your family. Is your ambition stronger than your love for us?”
He wanted to say something. But, mute with wretchedness, words did not come to his mouth, only a bitter bile.
He turned away from her, his soul breaking apart under the terrible weight of her pain and his guilt.
There was no way to fix this. He stared at the dirt beneath him, nearly swaying with anguish. Was she right? Had he allowed his hunger for land and wealth to become more important to him than his family?
Never! His family meant everything. A sense of strength filled him and his despair lessened. He turned back and faced her.
Without flinching, he boldly met her eyes. There was still a chance he could make her understand. He would not give up.
“No. My ambition is not stronger than my love.” He shook his head decisively. “There is nothing on earth as strong as my love for you and the girls. Nor is there anything in this world I value more than you.” He reached for her arms a third time, but this time she did not pull away. He looked directly into her eyes. “That’s why I can’t turn back. I’ll not fail Martha and Polly, or you, by turning back. A better future is waiting for all of us. I believe that with all my heart, soul, and mind. Someday, you will too.”
He studied her face. The tears were gone, but she would say nothing at all.
Stephen wrapped his arms around her and gave her a desperate hug. She tried to yank away, but he halted her escape a
nd placed a kiss on the top of her head. Then he picked up his rifle and strode into the mounting wind.
CHAPTER 26
On this clear bright day, the kind that brings hope to the heart, Stephen could see the solitary wagon for a mile or more as it drew closer and closer to them on the Wilderness Trail. They didn’t see any mounted riders, just the wagon pulled by a team of horses.
“Wonder who they are and why they’re heading east,” John asked.
“It’s none of our business,” Stephen said. He had little need or tolerance for strangers, unlike his brothers who were always anxious for news or companionship with their fellow man. “Be sure your weapons are loaded in case there’s trouble.” John often forgot to load his weapon.
“I’ll ride ahead and talk to them,” Sam said.
“Why?” Stephen asked.
“Because I can throw a knife quicker than you can shoot,” Sam said with only half a smile. “Besides, if they’re friendly folk you might scare them with that scowl on your face.”
“There’s no scowl on my face. That’s just the way my maker made it,” Stephen retorted.
“God must have been in a bad mood that day,” William quipped.
All the men laughed, except Stephen. He hadn’t been able to manage even a smile since the girls had died. And precious few words had passed between him and Jane for more than two weeks. He had tried talking to her and that had been disastrous. He wasn’t going to put himself, or her, through that again. He hoped she would soon heal enough to at least talk to him. He missed her, desperately. He wanted his wife—the other half of himself—back.
“I’m going with you,” Stephen told Sam.
A few minutes later, the two trotted their horses toward the wagon, pulling up short of it when they spotted the rifle pointed at them.
“Stop your horses right there or I’ll shoot you out of your saddle,” a woman yelled, her tone a menacing warning.
They stepped their mounts back some, not wanting to scare her. “Good day to you, Madam. No need to fear us. We’re from New Hampshire traveling to Kentucky—the Wyllie family and Bear McKee. I am Sam Wyllie. Most just call me Captain Sam.”
Stephen saw Sam taking in the astonishing sight of her as he spoke. Even at a distance, the woman was stunning. It didn’t surprise him that Sam would take notice. Her high cheekbones and strong jaw made her look almost noble and reflected the inner strength he heard in her voice. She wore a stunning blue floral gown that seemed incongruous on a woman driving a wagon in the remote countryside. Her pale skin made her dark blue eyes all the more intense. The only concession she seemed to have made to practicality in her appearance was her hair. Woven into a long thick braid, her black hair hung down her back.
She lowered the rifle as Stephen and Sam approached cautiously. “Pleased to meet you, Sir,” she told Sam when they reached her. She nodded politely towards Stephen.
“You’re alone?” Sam asked.
“Yes. Highwaymen killed my husband yesterday morning. There were three of them. They ambushed us.” She swallowed hard and took a steadying breath, obviously fighting tears. “We always knew it was possible that hostile Indians might attack us, although my husband was quite skilled with weapons and we brought trade goods to bargain for our safety. But I never even imagined white men might murder us. After they killed him, one of them tried to attack me. Then they stole my husband’s horse and saddle and most of my valuables.”
“How did you manage to stay alive through this appalling ordeal?” Stephen asked.
She extracted an impressive dagger from a sheath at her waist. “The one that touched me got a belly full of this. I presume the other two were cowardly, so they took off. Or maybe they couldn’t stomach killing a woman.”
Stephen got angry just listening to her story. Murdering, assaulting women, stealing, and horse thieving were not to be tolerated. “Don’t worry Madame, you’re among Christian men now,” he said as he dismounted.
She climbed down reached out to shake Stephen’s outstretched hand. She yanked off a sturdy glove and extended her hand to Sam after he too dismounted. “Captain,” she said. “I’m Catherine Adams.”
“How were you able to make it this far alone Mrs. Adams?” Stephen asked.
“I had no choice. We do what we must. Before we left Boston, I would never have dreamed I could survive a day in the wilderness alone, much less kill a man. But I’ve learned a good deal since then, everything from hitching up a wagon team to building a cook fire.”
“Where are you headed?” Sam asked.
“I didn’t want to go deeper into unknown country alone, so I turned the team around and headed east, hoping I’d encounter some respectable people like you before nightfall.”
“You’re not alone now. When you’ve rested and eaten, you can tell us all more about what happened. I’ll help you unhitch this team,” Sam offered.
“Pull your team closer to that creek down there,” Stephen suggested. “We’ll make camp here.”
As she met the rest of their group, Catherine seemed especially delighted to meet Jane. And Jane took to her as if they were longtime friends.
“To be able to talk to another woman is a blessing,” she said, as she worked the dough for dinner biscuits. “I haven’t talked to another woman for weeks. I’ve been so lonely…especially after… my two youngest girls died last month.” She fought back tears.
“I’m so sorry,” Catherine said. “How horrific that must have been for you.”
Silence hung uncomfortably between them. Finally, she was able to speak without crying. “God will help me through this valley. He’ll lead me out of it.”
“You seem to be a woman of exceptionally strong faith. I wish I could say the same for myself,” Catherine said.
“Someone once said that without faith we are much like stained glass windows in the dark. Only with the light of the Son can our inner beauty shine through.”
“That’s so inspirational.”
“Catherine, my sincere sympathies on the loss of your husband.”
“I’ll miss him. I still can’t believe he’s actually gone.”
Catherine’s voice seemed unnaturally calm and it didn’t seem to Jane as though she were grieving as a wife normally would after losing her husband. Maybe that was because Catherine hadn’t loved her husband.
“Death is so hard to accept,” Jane said. “I keep thinking there must be something I can do to bring my daughters back. I just can’t figure out what it is. It makes me feel guilty, even though I know there is nothing I can do, of course. It doesn’t make any sense, I know, but it’s how I feel nevertheless.”
Martha ran up and gave her mother a hug. “She is so beautiful Mama,” Martha said staring at Catherine. “May she braid my hair like that?”
“Of course she can, but tonight she’s much too tired. The poor darling needs some rest and some peace and quiet. Now go tell the others our meal is nearly ready and they need to wash up.”
Along with hot biscuits, the group enjoyed a dinner of roasted rabbits and the last of the sweet potatoes Jane had brought. As they finished, she smiled, pleased that every member of their group tried to make Catherine feel welcome. Even Stephen made her feel at ease, although he didn’t say much.
“You could make a decent cowman if you knew how to throw a rope,” Sam said, as he observed William practicing his throw after they’d eaten. The loop missed his practice target and fell limply to the ground.
“I can throw a rope just fine. Getting it around the neck is my problem,” William said. He gathered the rope up in loops.
“That’s because all you’ve ever practiced catching is women, and most of them weren’t running too hard,” Sam chided.
“I’m about to get some practice catching the male species. At first light, I’m going after those two bastards that murdered Mrs. Adams’ husband. Where do you suppose the closest jail and judge would be? Cat Springs?” William asked.
The only one that seemed su
rprised by William’s announcement was Catherine. “You can’t just go after those murderers. They might kill you too. I don’t want you to risk that. Please don’t go,” she pleaded.
“My honor requires it, Mrs. Adams. I may not hold an official title now, but I’m still a lawman and it’s my duty to uphold the law. I’m morally obligated to go after them. My brothers will agree.”
Catherine looked around. “Will none of you stop him from risking his life?”
“He’s right,” Stephen said. “They need to be found or they might attack us further down the trail. They killed your husband in cold blood and they will do it again. Better for us to go after them, than risk their ambush later.” He turned to William. I’m going with you.”
Jane’s heart sank, but Stephen was right. The killers needed to be found.
“They have almost two days lead on you. You don’t know where they’ve gone,” Catherine argued.
“William is an excellent tracker. So is Stephen,” Sam said. “Stephen grew up tracking in the mountains and hills. Once they find the campsite where you were attacked, they’ll know where the killers are headed.”
“I’ll go too,” Bear volunteered.
“No,” Stephen said. “I want you here to help protect my family.”
“I wish you and William would reconsider,” Catherine said.
“Wyllies don’t let murderers and thieves get away with their crimes,” Jane said.
“You’ll be well protected. Sam, Bear, and John will stay with you and the children,” Stephen told Jane. “It won’t take us long to find the killers.”
She did not say a single word to him. Nor did she that night.
But she thought about him. About what had happened to her family. She missed her girls. She yearned for a baby to hold and care for. She missed the way Amy would tug at her apron, wanting to be held. She wanted their happy home back.
And, she missed loving her husband. She missed the feel of his strong arms around her. She missed their conversations. She longed to be back in his arms again.
Wilderness Trail of Love (American Wilderness Series Romance Book 1) Page 17