Romancing the Wilderness: American Wilderness Series Boxed Bundle Books 1 - 3

by Dorothy Wiley

  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.

  He rode past many of those daring souls now. Rough looking men and women stood everywhere, talking, making deals, telling stories. Some were the epitome of the free spirit of the wilderness. Backcountry long-hunters, self-schooled doctors, blacksmiths, farriers, gunsmiths, and merchants. Others were the embodiment of those motivated only by greed—fortune seekers who came only for a chance to profit at the expense of others.

  Unlike his brother Stephen, for Sam going to Kentucky was about adventure, and a new beginning, not land. The journey allowed him to draw upon his courage and experience freedom—the freedom for which he, as a Captain in the Continental Army, had fought so hard and for which so many others died. They won more than a war. They won a country. And the freshest part of that new country was Kentucky—that’s what drew his family here.

  Now that they were here, would he find a new beginning? Or would his past cling to him like a cold wet blanket? Even as his mind asked the question, he fought against disturbing reflections of long-ago. The sight of the Fort had triggered memories of his own battles. His shoulders grew tight with tension and his forearms hardened beneath his sleeves. He grimaced, remembering the comrades he lost, many under his command, during the Revolution. Some of those he’d ordered to fight were little more than boys. He saw their faces most often in his nightmares.

  He should have died with those young men. And, several times, his injuries were so severe he nearly did. But for some reason, against all odds, he still lived. He rubbed his jaw, now covered in several months of whiskers, wondering why the Almighty had spared him.

  Perhaps because his brothers and the others needed him.

  As they made their way further into the busy town, his edgy nerves put him on high alert. Sometimes when that happened, it merely made him more cautious. But at other times, it was a warning. He studied Boonesborough through the eyes of the warrior he had become, his mind a strange mixture of both hope and caution.

  Catherine didn’t know what to think of Boonesborough. It was unlike any place she had ever seen, and she had traveled extensively, even to Europe with her parents and their servants.

  Jane steered her wagon alongside hers and they both shifted closer to each other on their benches. “This is nothing like New Hampshire,” Jane said.

  “It’s a far cry from Boston too,” Catherin
e called back. She remembered hearing stories of frontier lawlessness, drunkenness, gambling, and white men taking Indian wives, usually without the sanctity of marriage vows. From the looks of this town and some of its people, she decided the stories were all truthful.

  Boonesborough seemed to affect Kelly, who sat on the wagon bench beside Catherine, quite differently. Having never seen the places Catherine and Jane remembered, the bustling town and the sights before them seemed to astound the young woman. “Have you ever seen so many bodies in one place? It’s a wonder they don’t run into each other,” Kelly said, “and it’s so noisy.” Kelly covered her ears with her hands, trying to shut out the din of horses’ hooves, wagon axles, people yelling, dogs barking, and the myriad of other loud noises in the town.

  Kelly was used to the solitude and peace of the deep woods, where her abusive trapper father often left her on her own for months at a time. A motherless, pretty, young woman, Kelly was forced to grow up much too fast. Her rape by the men who had killed Catherine’s husband had left Kelly emotionally scarred.

  Catherine was relieved that Stephen and William killed the two vile murderers and that William had suggested Kelly join their group on their journey. She smiled, remembering the squawking chickens, milk cow, and old mule, Kelly insisted on bringing with her—all still a part of their entourage. The animals had become like a family to Kelly and her only means to fight the severe loneliness of complete isolation.

  Catherine returned her attention to the town. Long ragged beards covered the faces of a good many men and unkempt hair hung to their shoulders. She wondered if there was a shortage of barbers, scissors, and soap in Boonesborough. Many wore heavily stained buckskin-hunting shirts that reached their knees. She was sure the sour smell she caught from time to time came from their unwashed bodies.

  She also noticed a few smartly attired men accompanied by fashionably dressed women. They would look fitting on the streets of Boston. The frontier town seemed to hold a bizarre mixture of all kinds of people, some of whom appeared to live here, while others looked to be passing through.

  Catherine and Jane pulled their wagons to a halt side-by-side to let a woman, heavy with child, waddle slowly across the muddy street. She glanced over at Jane. Stephen’s beautiful red-haired wife was with child and her belly would soon look much like this woman’s, but she was sure Jane would still be just as lovely as she was now.

  Jane’s young daughters, Martha and Polly, leaned out of the front of the wagon, staring wide-eyed from behind their mother’s back. The girls both had birthdays on their long trek from New Hampshire, but she suspected the two, along with John’s son Little John, matured in other ways too, having gone through experiences well beyond the normal realm of childhood. Stephen and Jane were desperate to find a new safe home for their girls, where they could once again return to the trouble-free world of children.

  “Is this Kentucky?” Catherine heard Polly ask loudly.

  Polly, age six, looked much like her father, with dark hair that flowed from a center part, pointing to bright blue eyes. But Polly’s eight-year-old sister Martha was a redheaded green-eyed miniature of her mother. Martha’s braided hair was unable to restrain the small curls twisting across the girl’s freckled forehead and cheeks.

  She’d already grown very fond of both girls on their way here.

  “No silly,” Martha said, “this is a town with Kentucky people.”

  “Momma, Kentucky people are mean and dirty looking,” Polly said.

  “These are frontier people Polly. They have a hard life out here in the wilderness and it shows on some folks more than others,” Jane said.

  “I hope it won’t show on us like that,” Martha declared.

  Catherine grinned, silently agreeing. She wondered how her life would change if she stayed in Kentucky.

  Would she find love in the wilderness?

  Or loneliness?

  Chapter 3

  Off to Sam’s right, the waters of the Kentucky River, painted by the afternoon sun, flowed by like molten gold. Bouncing sparkles reflected off the water’s surface and reminded Sam of the way his knife glistened in the sun.

  As they entered Boonesborough and passed through the busy town, he had felt uneasy. But now, as they searched for a good site to set up camp on the other side of the settlement, he watched the peaceful river flowing beside him, surprised to feel his heart beating faster, his mouth curling in a half-grin.

  For months on the trail, he could hardly stand the wait. He often wanted to push the clock ahead. Forward to that moment in time when he would step out of the stirrup and put his feet down on Boonesborough’s soil. And now, the time had come.

  He spotted a secluded spot by the river, shaded by immense sycamores, with nearly white trunks, polished by generations of elk, buffalo, and deer rubbing against them on their way to water. The ancient river ran deep, flanked by rocks and limestone cliffs on its rugged southern side and on the north by dense woods that covered hills near and far beyond.

  “Let’s camp over there,” he yelled to the others, pointing to the spot.

  Near the river, he threw his leg over the saddle, stepped out of the stirrup, and felt at home for the first time in his adult life.

  Sam took charge with quiet assurance, his back to her.

  Catherine stared at his broad shoulders, wondering if they would ever tire of the secret burden he carried. And if he could open up, would he be as passionate about love as he was about fighting for his freedom and his family?

  She had a feeling he would be an ardent lover, taking passion as seriously as he did everything else. This perplexing, handsome man, unlike any she had ever known, awakened parts of her for the first time. Was one of those parts her heart?

  Sam turned around and she saw that his face radiated a vitality she hadn’t seen before. It was a though he’d suddenly come alive, sure of himself and his rightful place.

  Was reaching Kentucky that important to him?

  Then he looked over at her and there seemed to be a deeper significance to the look he gave her.

  She tried to figure out what it meant, but only grew more confused.

  Besides, it was time to get settled in. She wrenched herself away from this ridiculous preoccupation with the man.

  As they set up camp, Sam situated the two wagons and livestock to allow good visibility of the immediate area.

  Then he helped Catherine unhitch her team of two stout horses. Wearing sturdy gloves to protect her delicate hands, she moved with remarkable speed and skill and exhibited a strength at odds with her slender body. The widow continued to surprise him. This was not the same woman he first met on the trail. She was adapting to the wilderness, confronting it head on, picking up the skills she would need here on the frontier. He had to admire that.

  As he grabbed a halter for one of the horses, she reached out and placed her hand on his forearm. Even through her gloves, the warmth of her personal contact made his heart clench.

  “Thanks for your help, Captain.” Then she smiled at him again and hastily drew her hand away, but continued to eye him with a calculating expression.

  Sam felt a warm shudder pulsate up his spine. Why did her smiles affect him so?

  He nodded to her and then quickly turned to go help Stephen, at work unhitching Jane’s team of oxen. Now that Stephen had learned Jane was with child, his brother would want to get her settled as soon as possible. Jane badly needed rest. They all did.

  It had been a long week traveling the difficult final stretch of the Wilderness Road. They had passed a half dozen shallow creeks as they neared Boonesborough, most filled with muddy and often stagnant water. Twice this morning, they stuck a wheel. He scrunched his nose, smelling the foul mud dappled on his leather breeches. He needed a bath and a chance to give his clothing a good scrubbing.

  They made camp in a subdued mood; the arduous trip hard on all of them. Tired of sleeping outdoors, dirty clothes, ticks, mosquitos, infrequent baths, and severe storms,
for the last few weeks they started dreading each day rather than eagerly anticipating it. Despite making the journey on fine horses and well-equipped wagons, it required an effort now for each to keep their spirits up.

  Normally, his brothers spent their days joking and trading jests and tales. But lately, fatigue and the monotony of the journey had sombered even the jovial William. It didn’t surprise him when William went in search of an ale and companionship at the local tavern as soon as they arrived. The last few days, he had seemed quieter than normal. Frustrated at the slow pace the wagons forced them to travel, lately, William had acted preoccupied and kept to himself reading or cleaning his weapons. Sam suspected his most handsome brother missed the comforts of their old local tavern, including female companionship, and sorely missed his job as town Sheriff. On their journey, William had wanted to spend some time in Philadelphia and Virginia, visiting with some of the lawyers and statesmen there, but Sam had refused, knowing how important it was to reach Kentucky and get homes built before winter.

  A keen observer of human behavior, Sam sighed a breath of relief when they had finally neared their destination, because tempers were growing shorter and little annoyances were becoming bigger irritants.

  Stephen unsuccessfully tried to comfort Jane, whose pregnancy sapped her energy and made her more irritable by the day. She lost her temper fully twice that week, and Stephen swore it was for no good reason at all.

  Now, Sam heard her threatening to brain Stephen with her stew pot when he suggested that she looked worn-out.

  “How could that have made her mad?” Stephen asked, looking baffled.

  Sam shook his head from side to side. He had no idea. He was as bewildered as Stephen was.

  He saw Bear walking over to help Catherine unload her trunk. Bear had tried several times to engage her in conversation but Sam noticed that so far she had not warmed up to his adopted brother. He had to admit, that pleased him.