by Carré White
Bride of the Wild
Carré White
Copyright © 2014 Carré White
All Rights Reserved
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All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Scripture quotations are from The Holy Bible, English Standard Version ®, copyright © 2001 by Crossway. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this book is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Author’s Note
Chapter One
Kansas Territory, Sept 1855
How could I possibly concentrate on Sunday service? A close friend, Megan McAllister, and her brother had been attacked and murdered, which had stunned our community. But worse still was that the creature responsible remained at large, freely lurking in Fern Valley. We had only just begun to wear something other than black, due to my mother’s passing a year ago. While the pastor spoke, all I could think about was Megan’s gruesome death … and the fear that there might be more carnage, unless someone could stop the animal responsible.
“Please take a moment to think on those poor souls who perished so cruelly,” said Pastor Boyd. He stood before us, staring gravely from the pulpit. “We’re so closely associated here in Fern Valley. Most of us came out in the summer of ‘51, as you will recall. When I look upon your faces, I see not only the members of my congregation, but my friends and family. I hold you all dear to my heart. I’ve baptized many of you as well, the youngsters anyhow.” He grinned, the edges of his eyes creasing, but then his look sobered yet again. “The recent spate of tragedies has been alarming. I ask we pray for the McAllister’s, especially Dudley and Megan, who have met their Lord far too young.”
He lowered his head, and, while we prayed, thoughts drifted through my mind, vivid images of the past. I knew Megan rather well; the young woman had been a year older than me. We had gone to school together, we had played together often, and she had been a confidant over the years … but now she was lost to us forever.
“I cannot fathom why God would take these brilliant, bright young souls. This tragedy is a reminder of just how precious life is. We should never take one another for granted, and we should all hold each other close … ”
Feeling eyes upon me, I glanced to the right, seeing my beau, Silas Hefferman. He sat with his parents and siblings in the first pew on the other side of the aisle. We had spoken of the incident yesterday, it being the most pressing topic of discussion at the moment. The burials had not occurred yet, and they wouldn’t until tomorrow.
“ … I know many of you have already given support, and, for that, I’m grateful.” Pastor Boyd motioned towards the family, who sat several pews behind me. Mrs. McAllister held a kerchief to her face, dabbing at red-rimmed eyes, while her husband’s pale features highlighted the shadows beneath his. Megan’s siblings looked equally distressed.
“That poor family,” my sister, Amelia, whispered.
“Yes, indeed.” I sat next to her, with my younger brother, Tom, on the other side.
“Such tragedy, Saffron. It boggles the mind.”
“Shush,” murmured pa, casting a stern look our way.
I nodded, afraid to speak, but I could look, and I glanced behind me stealthily, finding them a sad and sorry sight. What sort of animal had attacked Dudley and Megan? What on earth would do that? Maybe it was Indians … they’re vexed with us for encroaching on their lands … and many are rather savage …
The preacher’s voice cut through my thoughts. “‘No man shall be able to stand before you all the days of your life. Just as I was with Moses, so I will be with you. I will not leave you or forsake you.’ Joshua 1:5-6.” Pastor Boyd closed the Bible. “Let these words be of comfort to you as you go about your journey today. Know you are not alone. Know that He shall watch over you—”
A commotion in the doorway halted the sermon, startling the congregation; a murmur of voices, along with several female gasps filled the air. Amelia and I turned our heads towards the source of the intrusion, finding Sheriff Tate Palmer and Doctor Walker standing in the entranceway, along with an Indian by the name of Deer Runner. I knew of this man, who belonged to the Arapaho people and often acted as an interpreter. Not everyone felt at ease in the company of the natives, as we had all seen or heard of unpleasant events relating to them. Something in the sheriff’s expression sent a tremor down my spine. There had been more trouble.
“I’m sorry for the interruption, Pastor Boyd,” said Sheriff Palmer. Stepping into the nave, he removed his hat. “Good morning, folks.” He nodded to the townspeople, all of whom knew him on a first-name basis.
“Is something amiss?” asked the preacher. “Is there a reason for this interruption?”
The doctor stood behind the sheriff, his expression grim. The men moved up the aisle, although Deer Runner remained by the door, standing with his legs apart, his body encased in leather fringe, with a white and gray feather in his glossy, black hair.
“One of my deputies came across the Goldman’s dog, Benny. The little fella looked like he’d been in some sort of accident, but after examining the animal, we discovered the blood in his fur didn’t belong to him.”
I glanced at Amelia, her golden blonde hair peeking out from beneath her bonnet. She reached for my hand, her fingers cold. Although summer hadn’t left us yet, the mornings were chilly. “This can’t be good,” she murmured.
“No.” A hand landed on my shoulder, and I turned to see pa, whose face had hardened with worry. I scanned the church for the Goldmans, not seeing them today. They never missed a service with their four children.
“What I’ve got to say might upset some folks, and, for that, I’m sorry. There’s no way to put this delicately. There’s been another ‘incident’.” No one said a thing; the room suddenly went silent, the only sound came from a Lark Bunting, chirping happily in the tree outside.
Pastor Boyd’s lips thinned. “Go on. You’ve come to tell us the news, and we’ll hear it. How can we be of assistance? What do you require of us?”
The sheriff shook his head. “Pray,” he said starkly. “All we can do now is pray.”
The austere quality of those words settled uneas
ily in the pit of my belly. “What happened to the family?” I heard myself saying far too loudly.
Sheriff Palmer stared at me. “Saffron Fossett. You may stand and ask that again, my dear.”
Not having anticipated being called out in such a manner, I swallowed the embarrassment, scrambling to my feet. “What of the family? Are they w-well?”
“Sadly, no. Deputy Thomas was sent to investigate. He came back with shocking news, but I had to see it for myself. I brought Doc Walker with me and Deer Runner. We came upon … ” he took a breath, “a grizzly scene. The family had put up a fight. The doors had been barricaded. They used as much furniture as possible, but it hadn’t held. The creature managed to get in, and, although they’d gone into the larder, they were set upon.”
The sheriff’s wife, Mrs. Palmer, rose. “You mean to tell me the entire family’s gone?”
“We regret this news,” said Doctor Walker. “I’ve examined the bodies, what’s left of them, and yes, the only survivor was the dog.” Doctor Walker’s wife approached him, and he drew her into his arms. “There, there, Grace. Don’t make yourself uneasy.”
Pastor Boyd returned to the pulpit, his eyes glistening with a suspicious sheen. “Before we go today, we should pray for the Goldman family. If what Sheriff Palmer says is true, we’ve had yet another tragedy that cannot be explained. May God guide them all towards heaven.” He bowed his head, as tears fell.
There had been far too many of these incidents lately, beginning with a poor mining family, who had gone missing. Their remains were discovered scattered in the forest. The occurrence had been classified as an animal attack, but no one could be sure which animal was responsible or if it had been a pack of wolves. Then there were the trappers, who had failed to return to their families, along with the McAllister children, who had been attacked on the road after dark. Their wagon had been set upon by something ferocious that had torn them to bits and eaten them.
The moment the service concluded, Sheriff Palmer approached the pulpit. “Listen up, folks. This is as good a time as any to have a public meeting. Your safety is my priority, and I feel as if I’ve failed you. It’s time we discuss certain measures to protect ourselves from this scourge—”
“What was it?” shouted a man towards the rear. “What sort of animal?”
“We originally thought it might be a pack of wolves, but I have my doubts now.”
The doctor joined him. “The markings on the bones indicate it was of some size.” He cleared his throat, because he had glanced at the look of horror on a woman’s face. “There were prints left in the mud. Deer Runner believes the creature to be a bear. I’m inclined to agree with him.”
“Yes,” said the sheriff. “We second that assessment. They’re foraging now, getting themselves well-fed for winter, but … ” he seemed troubled, his brows furrowing, “this predatory behavior is rather peculiar. I'm not all that acquainted with the habits of bears, but this particular one seems rather aggressive.”
“What sort of safety measures are you talking about?” asked pa, who had gotten to his feet. “How do you plan to keep us safe?”
“I suggest you board your windows. Find a place in your home you can hide, if you’re attacked. This animal has been breaking through doors. The Goldman’s door was shattered off its hinges. From the looks of it, they had been attacked in the night. The McAllisters had also been attacked at night. The miners went missing over night. I’d say, be careful outdoors at night. I wouldn’t go out at all, if you can avoid it.”
“You’re suggesting we barricade ourselves in our homes?” asked a man in a top hat. “I’ve a business to run.”
“Only at night. Go about your work during the day, just be mindful after sunset.”
“Let’s assemble a hunting party,” said a voice I recognized. “Silas Hefferman had gotten to his feet. Tall and lanky, he looked handsome in a frock coat and necktie. His pale, blond hair had been combed back. “I’m all for hunting this beast down and killing him.”
A chorus of voices rang out, agreeing with him, as men jumped to their feet, throwing closed fists in the air. I felt a twinge of jealously then, knowing women would be excluded from this. I wasn’t a bad shot in the least. Everyone in my family knew how to handle a weapon. I had killed deer and coyotes my entire life, having learned how to hunt quite young.
“We can do this, men!” hollered an older man in a brown coat.
“Enough’s enough! We can’t have this another minute!” shouted a woman. “I refuse to live in fear. We’ve sacrificed far too many innocent people already. Haven’t the McAllisters suffered enough? How many more must die before we kill this abomination?”
Sheriff Palmer cleared his throat. “Something will be done then. I’ll organize a hunting party, but we have to bury the dead first. It’s important you listen to me about safety. Stay indoors at night, especially if you live near the woods. Barricade your windows and find something to secure your doors with … ”
He continued to talk, but pa indicated we should leave, and we shuffled past another family, who sat at the front of our pew. The room crackled with energy, as nearly every person in Fern Valley had gathered to listen to the pastor this morning. Now they had been called to action by the sheriff. I craned my neck, searching for Silas, but he seemed absorbed in the moment, his face alight with excitement, his blue eyes blazing with the thrill of adventure. Again, jealousy flared, because I would not be a part of the hunt, even though my friend, Megan, had perished, murdered by the mysterious creature that had plagued us for weeks. I wanted to avenge her death. I desired to search for her killer, but it would not be asked of me.
At the door, I came face-to-face with the Indian, Deer Runner, who looked quite fearsome at this proximity. Deep lines entrenched the corners of his mouth, while dark eyes flashed as they fell upon me. A cold shiver ran down my backbone. I disliked the natives, but I should not have felt this way towards Deer Runner, because we knew him. Some fears ran deeper than others, regrettably, and I could scarcely forget the events of our journey to the Kansas Territory. It had been nearly six years, but the memory of the attack on the wagon train seemed as if it had only happened a week ago.
My father, being jovial and sociable in most occasions, patted him on the shoulder. “How are you, Deer Runner?”
“I’m well, and you?” His voice was heavily accented.
We had moved outside, standing on the steps of the church, while a sudden gust of wind tossed my bonnet into the air. I had neglected to tie it around my throat, and, now, it tumbled down the steps, onto the dried out grasses and weeds that surrounded the building.
“Oh, drat!” I hurried after it, as the blue fabric caught in the prickly brambles of a bush. Before I could reach it, a hand came down and plucked it free. Startled, I stared at the man who had taken it upon himself to rescue my hat, finding inquisitive hazel eyes, surrounded by impossibly thick lashes. “That’s mine, sir.”
“It is.” He held out the item.
Never having seen this person before, I stared at him, wondering who he was. “Th-thank you.” His clothing looked well-worn, his boots dull and scuffed, while vestiges of a beard darkened his cheeks. Burnished brown strands of hair hung over his collar, and the belt around his waist dangled with a revolver on each hip.
Deer Runner seemed to know him, because he approached, grinning. “This is Micah Blaylock. You’ll have to forgive him. He’s not been in society for a good while.”
My father approached, with Amelia and Tom in tow, extending a hand. “Eli Fossett. This is my oldest, Saffron, and my youngest, Tom.” He nodded at my sister. “And this is Amelia.”
Staring at the proffered hand, Micah shook it, although he seemed nonplussed about it, shifting his feet awkwardly. “Hello.”
Having placed the bonnet on my head, I stared at Mr. Blaylock, finding him strangely fascinating, his rough appearance and behavior creating an air of mystery and danger. How long had he been in the mountains? What had he se
en? Did he grow up alone? Where was he from?
“We’ve a hearty Sunday brunch in the oven, courtesy of my lovely daughters. Perhaps, you and Deer Runner would like to join us?”
“We would be happy to,” said the Indian, grinning.
Pa, ever sociable, approached me, smiling. “Don’t look so put out, Saffron. You know the house is clean. We’re more than prepared for guests.” He chuckled at my look of dismay, knowing my distrust of the natives. “They might just not be the kind of guests you were expecting, is all.”
Chapter Two
“Prove me, O Lord, and try me; test my heart and my mind” (Psalm 26.2). This verse drifted through my thoughts, while pa commandeered the wagon, but we had not gone alone. Deer Runner and the stranger followed, trotting behind us on horseback. Irritated that I had not been able to say a word to Silas this morning, I cast scornful glances pa’s way, throwing daggers at him with my eyes.
“Stop it, Saffron.”
“Stop what?”
“You know what. It’s prudent and kind of us to invite people to our home for food.”
“I wished to speak to Silas.”
“You’ll see him soon enough.”
“I will not. He’ll disappear on a wild goose chase, going after the illusive monster.”
“That has yet to be determined.”
Tom, who sat in the back of the wagon, asked, “Can I go, Pa? I want to hunt it down. Please?”
“Like I said, nothing’s been decided yet. It’s pure folly romping around in the mountains willy-nilly. They’ll have to formulate a plan first. A solid one.”
I glanced at my father, noting a patch of gray hair above his ear. “Will you go, if they ask?”
“I’ll consider all options, but I don’t reckon it’s time yet to gather a war party and search for this thing. They should think of baiting it here first. Make it come to us.”
“That’s scary, Pa,” said Amelia. “How would they do that?” My sister had the bluest eyes in the family, the color of a morning sky.