New Frontier of Love (American Wilderness Series Romance Book 2)

by Dorothy Wiley

  A tired look of sadness passed over her face. “I understood your meaning. They did take my life away from me. I could only do their bidding with absolutely no say in what I would do with my life. And if I had gone back to Boston after my husband’s murder, it would have happened all over again. My father would have made sure of that.”

  Her bearing was stiff and proud, but he sensed a spirit in chaos.

  “I know you expected to arrive here with your husband, not all of us. What now? What are your plans?” He wondered if she was ready to begin thinking about her future. Even now as she handled her horse team expertly, she looked out of place. An elegant woman caught in an inelegant place. He hoped the young widow had made the right decision to continue on to Kentucky.

  “Let me think about that question for a moment, Captain,” she said, a pensive shadow in her eyes.

  He waited, but caught himself repeatedly glancing over his shoulder at her. Since meeting her, he consistently made an effort to keep his distance. He tried to remain cordial, but detached. Pleasant, but not over friendly. He was definitely not interested in pursuing a relationship with her and he hoped she didn’t presume that he was.

  But she was so damn pleasing to look at.

  She couldn’t possibly be attracted to him. He was a tough and scarred warrior without wealth. He owned nothing but what he carried on the horse he rode. A gentlewoman like Catherine would need what someone of the landed gentry could provide. Not him.

  He turned his attention back to the town, keeping a leisurely pace for the tired animals.

  Even if he were acceptable to her, it would never work. He could face any enemy, but when it came to thoughts of love, he possessed absolutely no courage. Over time, he had vigilantly built a formidable wall around his heart. And, he wanted it to stay that way. She was the last thing he needed or wanted in his life and he was hell-bent on keeping her at arm’s length.

  Catherine finally answered his question, and seemed to choose her words carefully. “I honestly don’t know yet what I will do—whether I will stay here in Kentucky or go back to Boston. But I’m very glad I will be the one deciding it. I do know I want a future that includes love,” she said with regal certainty. “Having known the lack of it, I know how important it is to one’s happiness.”

  Sam hesitated, measuring her for a moment. Unprepared for the directness of her answer, his back stiffened. He recently learned from Stephen’s wife Jane that Catherine’s first marriage had been arranged and loveless, but her frank admission astounded him. He hoped she hadn’t noticed his reaction. He cleared his throat and willed his voice to remain even, but she spoke first.

  “Love is the most important part of anyone’s future, don’t you think Captain?”

  He quickly decided against agreeing with her. “I think I should catch up to Stephen and see what his plans are for making camp.” He sheathed his inner feelings, then nudged his horse and hurried away, bewildered by his own reaction to her simple question.

  Catherine watched him ride off, toward his brothers. Oh dear. Perhaps she had been too forward or said the wrong thing.

  Not so, her heart whispered.

  After spending all these weeks with him and his family, she assumed she could be frank with him. She wanted him to understand her. To share her hopes with him. But even the mention of love seemed off limits. Why? When she had asked the question, she saw his square jaw tense and a sadness pass quickly through his eyes. She sensed a heavy weight on his heart. And, she suspected, a secret pain he kept very close.

  On the trail here, she repeatedly debated with herself over whether she should return to Boston. She was being beyond foolish. Raised a well-bred gentlewoman from a wealthy Boston family, she and her parents were prominent members of the city’s gentry. Beyond any doubt, staying on this journey without her husband was not the proper thing to do. In fact, her parents would think it scandalous. She should return to her family home. Several times, she decided to do just that, but at the last second, would always change her mind. While traveling with them for her protection, she had grown fond of the Wyllies and their adopted Scots brother Bear. It had been too long since she felt this sense of family and belonging. Moreover, without reluctance, they had accepted her into their family’s group.

  But, if she were honest, the main reason she hesitated to return to her home was Sam. She found herself disconcertingly drawn to the man. His sun-bronzed face, tall muscled form, broad chest, and harsh masculinity made her wonder what it would feel like if he encircled her in his arms. Even his scarred strong jaw charmed her. The feeling was unsettling, yet pleasing. Like nothing else she had ever experienced.

  She found herself, on those rare occasions when he would hold her gaze, getting lost in his indigo blue eyes. They were the eyes of a man with steel in his character and a dark, almost mysterious, intensity. And the bright sparkle in them reflected a keen intelligence. She was certain the Captain was both well-educated and a deep thinker. And behind his rugged warrior facade, she saw a pleasing civility and a kind heart.

  That uncommon mixture of ruggedness and refinement made him truly unique. It was another reason she found Sam so intriguing. And, immensely appealing.

  Although, as yet, the feeling did not seem mutual. Pointedly ignoring her, the Captain went out of his way to avoid being near her. In fact, there was an air of deliberate isolation about him. When his lackluster attitude toward her finally annoyed her enough, she deliberately tried to entice him into paying more attention to her. She believed it had worked, but then he turned cold, barely able to say more than good morning to her.

  She couldn’t understand it.

  Catherine shifted her body on her wagon’s seat and straightened her back. Well, if that’s how it is going to be, so be it. She didn’t want a man who didn’t want her, who didn’t find her attractive. And she would never love a man who didn’t love her in return. Never. She knew what a loveless marriage was like. It was tedious, unexciting, and boring. The absence of desire and passion made for a mind and absolutely body-numbing experience in the marriage bed. No, that certainly wasn’t going to happen again.

  She would forget the Captain. She lifted her chin and made herself focus on the various establishments and shops lining Boonesborough’s busy main road instead of Sam’s broad back.

  “Can I come out now?” Kelly called timidly from inside the wagon.

  “Yes, of course. Come look at the new town with me,” Catherine called over her shoulder into the wagon. “Are you feeling better now?”

  “Yes, I’m not afraid anymore,” Kelly said, as she climbed out and took a seat on the wagon bench next to her. But Catherine could tell the young woman was trying to be brave.

  “Look at all the stores here,” Catherine said. The town was far larger than she expected. Her eyes opened wide. Ah, a seamstress. Delighted to see some sign of civilization, she would definitely visit the dressmaker’s establishment and soon. The trip had not been kind to her wardrobe. “I’ll be shopping at that store soon,” she told Kelly. “Every dress I own is suffering from either rips or stains.” She always took great pride in her appearance. She did not intend to stop now.

  Then she let out a long sigh. Why was she even thinking about buying new gowns? She should go back to Boston where she belonged, enjoy the kind of life she was accustomed to, and find a husband who would love her. There were plenty of eligible bachelors in Boston. There must be one there that she could consider marrying. But why couldn’t she name even one? They all seemed pompous and vain, as though polite society had bred away their manhood. When she compared them to the Captain, they all came up short.

  She slowed to let another wagon filled with fresh-smelling lumber turn in front of her. Then she gave the reins in her gloved hands a snap, urging her horse team along. She followed closely behind Sam, the oldest of the brothers, and the other four horseback men in his family.

  She thought a lot of all of them—brave, good men, who would do anything for one ano
ther. Despite her best efforts to stop thinking about Sam, an odd longing filled her. He now rode next to Stephen. He sat his horse ramrod straight and shoulders squared, his deerhide shirt stretched across the large muscles of his back. The slight breeze ruffled his shoulder length dark hair. Unlike his brothers, who all wore the traditional tricorne three-cornered hat, Sam wore no head covering at all unless it was bad weather. Knee-high rugged moccasins covered his feet instead of customary leather boots and reached up to his dark leather breeches.

  But it was his huge knife that contributed the most to his daunting appearance. Although attached to a beautifully carved deer horn handle, the blade left no question as to its purpose—to kill and kill swiftly.

  Sam looked to her as if he belonged here on the frontier, at the edge of civilization. He was a man as powerful as the intimidating long knife he carried. If anyone belonged here, he did.

  But did she?

  “It’s hard to believe we’re really here,” Kelly marveled. “You, all the way from Boston, and me from the woods of Virginia. Do you suppose we both wound up here with the Wyllies, for a reason?”

  “Maybe so. Fate has a way of choosing our path,” she said.

  Kelly inclined her blonde head toward her and said, “No, I believe God has a way of pointing us toward our future.”

  Maybe her destiny was in Kentucky, Catherine mused. Was she pointed here for a reason? If so, what was it? She wanted more in life than society balls and practicing fancy needlework. She wanted to do something meaningful. Something important. But what?

  She knew only one thing for sure. She would decide her future.

  CHAPTER 2

  After they rode past the Fort and well into the town itself, Sam studied the faces of Bear and his younger brothers, Stephen, John, and William. The four now rode next to him, side by side, nearly connected as one. Despite their obvious excitement at having finally reached their destination, the faces of all four appeared weathered and drawn. The journey had taken its toll. Even the faces of the three children looked haggard. Hell, even the faces of the ox and horse wagon-teams looked weary. He couldn’t blame them.

  With a single-minded obsession, he’d pushed them relentlessly, traveling sunrise to sunset for months, steadily southward, passing big cities, and small towns, further and further apart. He desperately wanted to arrive in time to secure their land and get homes built before winter.

  He had led them due west, on an old trading path that colonists improved into a road following the Revolution. They replenished their supplies in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, the last major town and the edge of the frontier.

  By July, they travelled southwesterly, through Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley, between the Appalachian and Blue Ridge mountain ranges, before turning north and passing into Kentucky through the Cumberland Gap.

  “We left New Hampshire in late April,” Stephen said. “It took us a hundred and twenty three days. We would not have made it without you, Sam. Even back there with those hunters, you kept it from turning into a blood bath.”

  “The frontier is no place for the hot-headed,” Sam said.

  “You were the rock we all leaned on,” John agreed.

  “He is hard headed,” William added with a chuckle. “But in all seriousness, you did teach us how to be ever alert and cautious. I learned that the hard way.”

  “The wilderness is also no place for the careless,” Sam said.

  “And na place for amateurs,” Bear said.

  Sadly, the wilderness was full of them. Sometimes on the Wilderness Trail, they saw the camps of other travelers, but wary of strangers Sam urged that they keep to themselves. Some of those travelers experienced an even more trying trip. They rode draft horses or mules or walked and most were unkempt and ill clad in homespun. Several times, they saw entire families on foot with all their meager belongings tied to their bent backs. Sam pitied them. They journeyed west with little more than an abundance of hope.

  With his brothers and Little John well mounted and the women and girls riding in the relative comforts of the wagons, their large group was more prepared than most. Before they left, he had carefully compiled a long supplies list, knowing that adequate provisions could mean the difference between success and failure—and life and death.

  They did not fail.

  “At last, we are here!” Stephen declared, his voice choked with emotion.

  They wouldn’t fail here either. He was not about to let that happen.

  “Indeed we are. Let the future begin,” Sam said. Although every fiber in his body warned him against it, he turned his horse back toward Catherine’s wagon.

  As they made their way through Boonesborough, several people shouted their greetings or waved.

  “Seems like it might be a friendly place after all,” Catherine said.

  “Indeed,” Sam agreed, relieved the town wasn’t full of people like the six slovenly hunters. The people of Boonesborough would understand all too well what their journey from the east had meant, having made the passage over the Wilderness Trail themselves not so long ago.

  A trek like that changed people. Sometimes for the better, but often not.

  He saw changes in his own family. William and John each came through their journey differently. William left the impulsive and footloose ladies’ man behind. In his place, was a responsible brother he could now respect.

  John, on the other hand, still struggled with the harsh brutality of the frontier and the courage it required. The architect’s gentle intellectual nature would undoubtedly clash with the realities of the rough-edged world they just entered.

  But of his three brothers, the trip affected his youngest brother the most. Stephen now knew the high cost a man must pay for his dreams. Sometimes those dreams can only be bought with what is most precious to us—life. And Stephen learned that it takes courage to defend life, not just weapons. For Stephen, courage had been the difference between living and dying.

  Bear had proven his courage many times. Oddly, he thought Bear was more like him than any of his brothers. An experienced fighter, with admirable skills as a hunter and an exceptional knowledge of weapons, he greatly admired Bear. During their journey, Bear grew closer to all of them.

  But all these changes were just the beginning. Kentucky would compel each of them to find new destinies and new lives. Just what he wanted.

  It would start now.

  He motioned for Catherine and Jane to steer their wagons toward a magnificent elm near the center of town where a group of townspeople congregated. Some sat at old weathered wooden tables and some stood talking in small clusters.

  Jane yelled to slow the oxen, tugging their guide ropes to steer the wagon underneath the immense tree. Catherine pulled her team up close as well. Sam, Stephen, and the other horseback men all assembled close to the two wagons. The tree’s far-reaching branches shaded them all from the sun.

  William dismounted, dusting off his clothing as he approached the townsfolk gathered at the shady spot.

  “Welcome to Boonesborough. You fine folk have ventured a far piece to be sure. Where you folks from?” asked one of the men. The other townspeople gathered around the newcomers.

  “New Hampshire,” William answered, enthusiastically shaking the man’s hand, “except for Mrs. Adams in that wagon, who met with misfortune and was widowed on the way here, she’s from Boston, and Miss McGuffin sitting next to her, who is from a remote place in Virginia near Cat Springs. They both decided to travel to Kentucky with us for their protection.”

  “New Hampshire is indeed a far piece—about as far as you can get from here,” another man said.

  William made all the other introductions and they met several of the townspeople, including a balding stout man named Thomas Wolf, the man that greeted them first.

  “It’s my pleasure, Sirs, to make your acquaintances. I know you have endured a long and no doubt difficult trip. We’ll assist you in getting settled as much as we can,” Mr. Wolf offered graciously. �
��There are no accommodations available at our one inn, but you may camp by the Fort as so many others have, or on the other side of Boonesborough along the river. It is considerably quieter there and we have no problems with the natives at present. May I have the pleasure of showing you around the town?”

  “Kind of you Sir to offer, but we’ll be moving on shortly,” Sam replied. He realized he sounded curt, and the man’s offer probably came from just being hospitable, but he didn’t know this man. He hadn’t made it this far taking offers from strangers.

  “Well, I could sure use help with my thirst,” William said, smiling broadly. “I’ve been looking forward to having an ale here for about a thousand miles. What direction is your tavern, Sir?”

  Mr. Wolf pointed down the street and led the way.

  “Join me as soon as you’ve made camp,” William yelled back, strolling swiftly away with his horse, Mr. Wolf, and several of the town’s other men in tow.

  Stephen scowled. “We’re here five minutes and he disappears to a tavern.”

  “William has his own way of doing things,” Sam said. “By the time we get to that tavern, he’ll know more about this town and who’s who than we’d learn in a week.”

  Sam led them through the noisy town, a way station for settlers going elsewhere. They made their way through the street crowded with wagons of all types—farm wagons, lumber wagons, freight wagons, and carts loaded with the fly-covered furs of trappers. Horses from all the wagons littered the streets liberally with fresh manure making walking only possible in a zigzag fashion.

  “What do you think, Sam?” Stephen asked.

  “It’s exactly as I had imagined,” Sam answered.

  Thirteen years earlier, Adventures, Daniel Boone’s book, had inspired him and he had remained captivated by the idea of Kentucky. He wasn’t alone. Proof of the power of the written word to shape a nation, the book called tens of thousands to this virgin wilderness.