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

by Dorothy Wiley

  It vexed him to admit it, but Bear was right.

  CHAPTER 11

  “The thing that bothers me is why Adams felt he could make a trip to Kentucky on his own. Was he in a hurry to leave for some reason? And why would he take a fine lady like Catherine into the wilderness with only one man to protect her?” William asked.

  “Indeed,” Stephen said. “That foolish decision cost him his life and nearly got her killed.”

  “It doesn’t make sense,” William said. “He must have had a compelling reason.”

  “She told Jane that Adams was after a prime site of land in Kentucky. That could compel a man to leave in haste,” Stephen suggested. “Still it’s odd that Adams and Catherine left Boston on their own, without the protection of traveling with others.”

  Sam stepped up closer to the two.

  “Some men think with their cocks,” William said, “makes them overconfident, as well as stupid.”

  Stephen shook his head agreeing. “Perhaps Adams was just arrogant enough to think he could protect her.”

  “Does it matter? The man’s dead,” Sam said. His tone sounded hotter than normal even to him. “Let the poor man rest in peace.”

  “Don’t get your dander up, I just wondered what kind of man Adams was since Catherine seems to have joined with us more than temporarily,” William tried to explain.

  “Her late husband’s plans and character are none of our concern,” Sam said vehemently.

  “But what about Catherine’s…” William started to say.

  Sam interrupted. “Now that we’re here, she can make her own plans.”

  “You’re a little testy this evening don’t you think?” William asked.

  Truth was that after his near fight with Bear, he was cross, and as jumpy as a drop of water on a hot skillet. But he was not about to admit to it. “Think so?” he snarled.

  “Yes, I most certainly do,” William said, cocking an eyebrow at him.

  “What did you mean ‘make her own plans’?” Stephen asked, keeping his voice low.

  “Just that. She has a right to make her own decisions,” Sam said, realizing that he just echoed what Bear had said earlier. Damn. He took one long look in Catherine’s direction. She was saying goodnight to Jane and the girls. “She may stay or arrange to return to her family. None of it is our concern.”

  “But…” Stephen and William both said at once.

  “It’s getting late. I’m going to bed,” he said, hopefully dismissing them and the topic.

  Stephen and William stared at each other, and then back at him. Both of them were now smiling.

  He grumbled as he strode swiftly away to retrieve his pallet.

  Still awake after an hour or more, Sam decided it would be a very long night.

  Not because the ground seemed especially hard and damp tonight. Sam was used to sleeping on the trail. In fact, he preferred a carpet of leaves and grass to a fancy bed. The night would be long because Catherine had awakened emotions in him he assumed long dead. Now they were alive again, tormenting him.

  Very alive if truth be told. And he didn’t like it.

  Perhaps these thoughts were just lust, something he could overcome in time. Even as he thought it, he realized it was a lie. These feelings ran deeper. They were more than a mere physical hunger and an ache in his manhood. His very soul seemed to ache as well. Just being near her made all his defenses fade away like morning fog in the face of a brilliant sun.

  He rolled onto his side, remembering that long ago he decided he was a man better off single, a warrior at heart, born for life in the wild—not the tame life of a married man.

  He could try to avoid her, but since they were sharing the same camp, that was impossible. Even the impenetrable shield he built around his heart seemed a weak defense. There was no way to avoid those deep penetrating blue eyes, which appeared to reflect a spirit akin to his. And those sensuous lips, the color of a crimson rose. They looked as if they were begging him to kiss them. Every time she spoke, he found himself studying her mouth, wanting to cover her lips with his.

  He remembered when she had let him hold her dagger. Imagine, a woman who treasured a knife. That in itself sent bolts of desire surging through his veins. He knew then that they were cut from the same cloth.

  And just holding something that she cherished seemed important to him for some reason.

  Had he been waiting all this time for her? Would she even consider him? She was cordial and friendly, but she also was towards the other men. Especially Bear. He growled to himself.

  No, he couldn’t risk losing another woman. If Catherine didn’t have feelings for him, he would lose twice. No, he would not let himself feel the agony of loss again. Once was more than enough. He already decided that, damn it, when he was hunting. But, as he had hiked through the forest, he had also thought about a home and pictured her there on the front porch, looking so welcoming.

  And now, he was wide awake churning it up all over again.

  He rolled onto his back trying to make his mind stop racing. He covered his eyes with his arm attempting to stop the images. But, his mind overflowed with conflicting emotions, like a river out of its banks, his thoughts spread where they didn’t belong. He pulled his light blanket over his head as if to hide from his feelings, but they refused to release their hold on his body. He pictured her sleeping in her wagon, as he had many nights before. Did she sleep peacefully or was she was as miserable and tormented as he?

  He also wondered how her bare body would feel lying next to his, his arms around her, his face buried in that silken mass of black hair, his hands on her shapely hips that tapered to long straight legs. What would those legs feel like wrapped around him? Could it possibly be as pleasant as he imagined?

  Damn. It could. He was sure of it.

  He rolled to his other side, finding it hard to get comfortable.

  His confused mind continued its struggle through a labyrinth. Only a female could make a man’s mind take so many convoluted twists and turns. How in damnation was he going to get out of this maze? He had found himself in many a difficult situation in the past and he always managed to find a way out.

  Sam listened. A myriad of eerie sounds—a concert for the brave—filled the cool night air. The creatures of the night seemed as uneasy as he was. In the distance, coyotes yapped in grouped frenzy as they chased some poor doomed creature. There were probably only a half dozen, but they sounded more like sixty than six. He could never figure out exactly why. Maybe the thrill of the hunt magnified their rapid shrill yelps. Maybe the coyotes wanted their prey to give up in despair. He had no doubt that they often did, just like men.

  He was running from something too. But he knew that wasn’t like him. He always faced life’s challenges head on, no matter how difficult. He never ran from danger and he never gave up. He welcomed a good fight.

  He rubbed his gritty eyes, torn by conflicting emotions and sick of the struggle within him.

  A few yards away, Bear started to snore like a real hibernating bear. He didn’t want to fight Bear. The only person he really needed to fight was himself.

  But it’s difficult battling with yourself. Perhaps the hardest battle of all.

  He started to roll over again, then decided getting any sleep was hopeless.

  He stood and marched out into the night to wage war with his heart.

  CHAPTER 12

  The next morning, Sam, Stephen and Bear located the office of Tom Wolf. The small but neat room contained a desk, old law books, ledgers, and an assortment of maps and smelled of fresh tobacco and old pipe smoke. A rifle, powder horn, and saddlebag hung by the door, from a massive buck antler nailed to the log wall.

  “I share this humble office with the surveyor, but fortunately, he’s gone most of the time,” Wolf said, grinning as he shook their hands. “Hope you had a chance to rest up from your long journey.” He lit an oil lamp to replace the light lost to the cloudy sky.

  “We did,” Sam said,
sitting down on the only chair other than Wolf’s. Constructed of rough hickory with a deerskin seat, it felt surprisingly comfortable despite its crudeness.

  “Where’s that entertaining brother of yours William?” Wolf asked.

  “He went over to the Fort to meet some of the local militia and the men on duty there,” Sam explained.

  “How can I help you gentlemen today?” Wolf asked, looking from one to the other.

  Stephen spoke first. “As you know, Sir, we traveled a fair distance for the settlement opportunities available here in Kentucky. The Land Office is still closed but we understand that it will open tomorrow. We heard you were a man who might know where good land is still available and have advice we could trust. If you are agreeable, we hoped to get your counsel before we went to the Land Office.”

  “My apologies,” Wolf said, “for not being able to meet with you sooner. I was away visiting my son and his wife. I am now at your service, Sirs.”

  “We are indebted to you, Sir,” Stephen said. “I’m looking for quality pasture land suitable for cattle.”

  “Stephen was the best breeder of cattle in the northern colonies,” Bear bragged, “he just did na have enough good pasture and the harsh winters there made it hard to keep livestock alive, especially their wee calves. Wait till ye see the herd he’ll raise up here with all that fine blue Kentucky grass. In no time, he’ll likely be feeding beef to half the state.”

  Sam thought Bear was right. The new state’s exploding population would need food—beef Stephen wanted to raise. Stephen planned to buy up all the cattle he could find, save every heifer born and sell off the bull calves. If he could start with ten cows, he’d have fifteen or so after the first year; more than twenty in another year; and at least thirty five by the next. With the thick grass growing here, it wouldn’t take long for Stephen to build a thriving herd.

  “I’ll make application for a bounty grant tomorrow,” Sam said.

  “The Captain’s a hero of the revolution,” Bear told him, “that’s why they made him a Captain. He’s also a mapmaker and guide.”

  “I’m no hero,” he said, turning scolding eyes on Bear.

  “What about you, Sir?” Mr. Wolf asked Bear.

  “Well, I’m more inclined toward huntin’ and trappin’ than farmin’, so I’ll be lookin’ for land suitable for huntin’,” Bear said. “John, who you met when we arrived, is guardin’ our camp and the women just now. John and William both plan to live here in town. John’s an accomplished architect and builder and William was our town Sheriff back home and is nearly a lawyer too. Been studyin’ the law for some time.”

  Sam eyed Bear. He never realized how proud Bear was of his adopted family. They were all proud of him as well. He was literally and figuratively a giant among men—the kind of friend one finds only once in a lifetime. Bear hadn’t changed much over the course of their journey, still the steadfast friend he always was. He wondered if Bear realized, after all they’d been through, what he had learned. That they were truly brothers. That they were family. He resolved not to let Catherine come between them again.

  “This town could use an architect with all the buildings going up. Moreover, we certainly need knowledgeable men of the law; all we have now is a young constable, who lacks experience. Not sure how much it pays though. Since Colonel Boone left, things have come apart at the seams a little.”

  That worried Sam. Frontier towns without the benefit of strong men of the law or the military were breeding grounds for mayhem. Without the influence a man like Colonel Boone, the town could quickly deteriorate into lawless anarchy.

  “Looks like between the lot of you, you’ll be helping Kentucky to grow. Our new state needs more men such as yourselves. So many of our colonists lack education and resources. I’ll help in any way that I can,” Mr. Wolf offered graciously. “First let me describe how new settlers acquire land.”

  He folded his hands neatly in front of him on the slab table and cleared his throat. “The first thing you must do is secure a receipt from the State Treasurer in Frankfort, which in turn you will take to the Land Office within the county where the land you desire is located. The county will issue a warrant. The warrant will authorize you to locate and survey a certain acreage. By the way, these county warrants may be traded, sold, reassigned, in whole or in part, anytime during the process. After the warrant is completed, you must return it to the Land Office for entry in the county surveyor’s book. The Land Commissioner will register the warrant and record your intention to file for a patent. These entries are not binding and may be altered or withdrawn. Next, an actual field survey must be completed describing the metes and bounds. If there are no problems, and there often are, a Governor’s Grant is issued, usually within six months. This finalizes the patent process and conveys title.”

  “Six months!” Bear and Stephen said in unison.

  “In total, more like a year,” Sam said, disgusted. “How can we get homes built before winter?”

  “I don’t make the rules gentlemen; I’m just here to sell land. You’ll have to argue with the Kentucky General Assembly and the Land Office about the merits of the system, although I admit, it does pose difficulties for those who need land quickly.”

  While Wolf spoke, Sam wandered over to the crude fireplace, impatient with Kentucky’s bureaucracy. A shelf over the stone fireplace held several books. He noted among them the Bible, an almanac, The Pilgrim’s Progress, and Shakespeare. The playwright’s book seemed out of place in this wilderness town. Shakespeare was his mother’s favorite writer. On winter evenings when the snows were deep, she would read passages aloud to her sons, in her nearly musical voice. Sometimes she was so animated it was more like watching the plays rather than just listening to them. He grinned at the pleasant memory and picked up the volume. As he flipped through the pages, he wondered what verses Shakespeare would have written about Kentucky, this ‘Land of Tomorrow.’ Undoubtedly, this remarkable land would have inspired the poet. It almost seemed as if it had. Here, men clashed with both nature and natives and definitely suffered ‘the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.’ He feared that the ‘Dark and Bloody Ground,’ as some called Kentucky, would require their taking ‘arms against a sea of troubles.’ Had those troubles already begun? Would they be able to, as Shakespeare wrote, ‘by opposing end them’?

  “Do you enjoy Shakespeare, Captain Wyllie? Wolf asked.

  “It’s been an exceedingly long time since I have,” Sam answered.

  “Then you must borrow my book sometime,” Wolf suggested.

  “What do most folks do then?” Bear asked. “Sounds like yer land system will keep lawyers busy for many moons but it will na put land in the hands of folks that need it for some time.”

  “You may buy land that someone else received as a patent. These are simply a county responsibility and are known as a ‘deed.’ These are much easier to come by,” Wolf explained.

  “But that means buying the land, not receiving a grant,” Stephen said.

  “Yes, that’s right. Land sells for between a dollar and two dollars and acre this way—the better the pasture land the more it costs.”

  “Two dollars, that’s outrageous,” Stephen bellowed.

  Sam stepped to the window. As the others talked, he found himself thinking about Catherine. He wondered again, what it would feel like to hold her. Sometime around midnight, when he was finally able to fall sleep, he dreamt of her. Every time she reached for him in the dream, he stepped away before she touched him. And every time he did, he grew more annoyed and disgusted with himself.

  Scowling, he tried to push thoughts of her from his mind. He turned around and did his best to concentrate on the conversation going on behind him. But after just a minute or two, he decided he would leave the tedious details of the land process to Stephen. Stephen had more patience than he did. He turned back to the window.

  He noted the sky clouding up even more than when they arrived. Might have a thunderstorm tonight. Th
en he noticed them.

  The same scruffy bunch of hunters they’d encountered before were waiting across the street. Their vulgar leader seemed to be eyeing Sam’s horse, tied just outside Wolf’s office.

  His eyes narrowed as he studied the big man. Wariness crossed his mind before he turned back toward the others.

  “Time to go,” he said.

  CHAPTER 13

  “Wait, just a moment longer Sam. Mr. Wolf, what do you recommend we do?” Stephen asked.

  “Apply for your patents as soon as you can arrange. In the meantime, pool your money and buy something you can build on now. You can always sell it later, probably for a nice profit.”

  Sam continued to study the men across the street. The large–caliber rifles they carried and their manner of dress confirmed that the fresh skins he’d seen were their kills and that they were indeed buffalo hunters. He had little respect for hunters who massacred defenseless animals by the hundreds just for the profit their hides would bring. It was pure slaughter and a waste of the precious meat.

  “Do you know of any good sites available?” Stephen asked.

  “Indeed I do, Sir. Fifty acres near here just became available, half wooded and half cleared with a young orchard. The cleared land is in good fence. The title is indisputable. The previous owner, John Marshall, relocated to Louisiana. I just bought it from him. It’s got a nice dwelling on it—not much more than one large room and a hearth, but it’s snug and will keep your women and children warm and dry while you men add on to it or get a bigger house built.”

  “We appreciate your time, Sir, and we’ll let you know if we want to look at that land,” Stephen said. He stood and shook Mr. Wolf’s hand. The rest of the men followed Stephen’s lead and bid Mr. Wolf good day.

  Sam stepped out of Wolf’s office first. As he untied his horse, out of the corner of his eye, he looked across the street. The wide-shouldered leader of the hunters stared directly at him with cold, hard eyes.

  Trouble, he decided immediately.