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

by Dorothy Wiley

  The children, however, had grown fonder of their giant friend by the day. Bear’s nickname reflected both his personality and his daunting appearance. A giant, hair-covered man, originally from Scotland, he was orphaned on his journey to the American colonies. Sam’s parents had graciously adopted the young man into their family.

  Sam helped Stephen remove the oxbow and tie and secure the oxen, then Stephen told his daughters they could get out of their wagon. Sam watched the two excitedly pop out and squeal as they jumped to the ground. At least the gleeful girls still had energy. The two ran off.

  “Stay close girls,” he and Stephen both yelled at once.

  He looked over at John who was just finishing unsaddling the horses. John had spent most of his free time on this trip fishing and continuing to miss his deceased wife. Lately, the architect had had no luck fishing and had broken his best pole. John had spent the previous evening repairing it, and then tried fishing again, only to bring back dozens of mosquito bites. Sam grinned as he noticed John scratching himself in several places as he led several of their horses, including Sam’s, to the river to water. Walking beside his father, six-year-old Little John, John’s only child, led his beloved horse, Dan. Before long, the boy would carry a real weapon, not his toy rifle. Kentucky would likely force the child to become a man before his time. When that time came, he would be sure Little John was prepared. John had already asked Sam to teach his son how to use a knife. Soon, the boy would begin lessons on shooting as well.

  As she was now, Kelly was often quiet, no doubt spending her private thoughts sorting through turbulent feelings. Jane told Sam that after the rape, feelings of guilt and anger, and often nightmares, still plagued the eighteen-year-old. Jane said Kelly wanted nothing to do with men for the rest of her life. Maybe if his family showed her enough kindness, she could learn to trust men again. He decided to try to serve as a brother to the young woman. Here, she would need a big brother to look out for her.

  He strode over to help Kelly unload her chicken crates from her pack mule.

  “Is this one Genesis, Exodus, or Leviticus?” he asked. She’d cleverly named the chickens after the first few books of the Old Testament.

  “No, that one’s Deuteronomy,” Kelly said, bringing a hand up to stifle a giggle.

  Good, at least he’d managed to make the young woman chuckle.

  “Now that we’re here in Boonesborough, I need to acquire a rooster,” she explained, letting several chickens loose.

  “My guess is he’ll either be named Joshua or Samuel,” he offered.

  “I think I just might name him Sam,” Kelly said, tilting her head at him as she smiled.

  Barely able to keep the laughter from his voice, he said, “Then he’ll be a mighty fine warrior, protecting all your hens.”

  Surprising her, and himself, he promptly did his best rooster imitation, which wasn’t all that good, but it sent Kelly into hysterics. Soon everyone gathered around them and joined in sharing the young woman’s amusement. Then Bear tried to imitate the crow of a rooster. Martha and Polly liked Bear’s animated version the best and begged him to do it a second time. Good naturedly, Bear complied, while chasing one of the chickens around in a circle. Catherine burst out laughing. Her laugh was marvelous, catching, and a ripple of mirth flickered through Sam. He suddenly felt ten-years younger than his thirty-nine years.

  Sam guessed it was fatigue and relief making them all so silly, but whatever the reason, it felt good. They needed a few moments of merriment after the rigors of their journey.

  After the amusing diversion, he felt more elated than tired. Light-hearted, he took a deep breath, enjoying the feel of the fresh air expanding his lungs. Even dead tired and stinking dirty, he was exactly where he wanted to be. Before they left New Hampshire, he had come to realize that the war had extinguished the fire within him just as surely as blowing out a candle snuffed out its light. After he had left the Continental Army and returned to his home in New Hampshire, life held little meaning or purpose. As a mapmaker and sometimes guide through the wilderness, he managed to make a decent living. But, it was just work. It made him feel unfulfilled, empty, and oftentimes lonely. Like a shadow of his former prewar self.

  But now his life would change. Although he felt the physical burdens of constant travel and little rest, his mind and heart had grown stronger with each passing mile. Every day seemed to have more meaning. Every hour his spirit felt more alive and filled with cautious hope. He had savored every minute that brought him further into the wilderness and this new frontier.

  A place where, with a bit of luck, he could experience life once again.

  He watched Catherine out of the corner of his eye as she clapped her hands following Bear’s last performance. Joy bubbled in her gentle laugh and life shone in her eyes.

  Chapter 4

  After setting up camp, Sam, Stephen, and Bear prepared to ride back toward Boonesborough to join William. John agreed to stay behind saying he would help the women and children settle in. Before he left, Stephen made sure John and Jane kept their rifles loaded and nearby while they went to town and Sam asked Catherine and Kelly to do the same with their weapons.

  “How do you suppose William is doing?” Stephen asked, pointing his beloved horse George toward town.

  “My guess is William has either gotten himself elected mayor or thrown in jail. Hard to tell which,” Sam said.

  “Aye. He is unpredictable,” Bear confirmed. “At least William makes more friends than enemies.”

  They tied their horses in front of the Bear Trap Tavern next to William’s horse and pushed through the rough door. The noisy place smelled of a mixture of the clean scent of the pine log walls and the musky dirty men who sat at the tables. By the time their eyes adjusted to the dim indoor light, every eye in the place focused on them, including two from a woman at the top of the stairs.

  William sat with a man at a table near a large stone hearth, unlit due to the summer heat. His brother spotted them and waved them over. “Sit down and have a drink. You boys have some catching up to do,” William called to them with his usual wide smile.

  Sam blatantly studied every face in the place before he made a move.

  The woman at the top of the stairs flashed a saucy smile and swayed her enormous breasts and ample hips suggestively. Sam took in her shapely form and, despite himself, found himself smiling back.

  “You can’t start a fire if you keep the flint in the box,” she told him, winking.

  He chuckled, along with several other men who heard the ribald remark. But he wasn’t ready for a fire—he wasn’t even ready for a spark.

  He quickly turned toward the others. Right away, he appreciated the Bear Trap’s atmosphere and mood. Unlike the taverns in New Hampshire, he saw no billiard tables, or fancy drinks sitting in front of men wearing fine fashionable clothing. Here, weathered men in soiled clothing and dirty boots filled the tavern, their faces and bodies hardened by the near daily life and death challenges of the wilderness. These men were part of a new breed of Americans. Like him, this breed thrived on the lack of civilization, not the presence of it.

  Nevertheless, as men do everywhere, they occasionally shared the need for a soothing drink and the companionship of others who face the same hard challenges of life.

  As he ambled toward William, Sam heard conversations about current crop prices, two men negotiating a trade, a man reading a newspaper aloud to his companion, and several men discussing odds on an upcoming horse race. The tavern windows, all open, allowed a slight breeze to float through, cooling the large room.

  William motioned the tavern owner over. “Three more of those good ales if you don’t mind Sir,” William said grinning.

  “Certainly, and their first round is on the house. I understand you gentlemen just arrived in Boonesborough. An accomplishment like that deserves more than ale at its end, but that’s all I have to offer,” said the genial owner of the Bear Trap. “I’ve been expecting a load of Marcu
s’ good whiskey, but it hasn’t arrived just yet. Will a tasty ale suit you?” The portly owner with a large red nose looked to Sam for an answer to his question.

  “Ale suits us fine.” He inclined his head in a gesture of thanks. “We appreciate your generosity, Sir,” Sam said and then introduced himself and the others. The tavern keeper’s name was Charles O’Hara.

  “I’ll be back, Sirs, with the best ales you’ve ever tasted,” O’Hara said, walking away.

  William nodded his blonde head vigorously. “He’s right, this ale is the best I’ve ever tasted, maybe because I was so thirsty and it’s been far too long since I’ve enjoyed one.”

  “Nope, it’s the water around these parts,” the man at the table said. “Nothing better than Kentucky water. Makes good whiskey too.”

  “Glad to hear it,” William said. “I want you three to meet my new acquaintance, Lucky McGintey. Lucky, these handsome fellows are my family—my two brothers, Captain Sam, and Stephen, and our adopted brother Bear McKee.”

  The man stood to shake their hands. Dressed much like Sam, Lucky wore a hunting shirt dyed black, buckskin leggings, and moccasins. He carried a pistol, tomahawk, and long knife in his leather belt and a well-used long rifle leaned against the table next to him. His powder horn appeared similar to theirs except that intricate and artistic carvings decorated it. A coonskin cap covered his long grey hair tied at the back of his neck in a queue pigtail. His sun-darkened skin bore the seasoned look of someone who had coped with the frontier for some time. Sam soon learned that the man had.

  William explained that Lucky was one of the first stouthearted men to come to the Kentucky frontier with Daniel Boone and that the man called himself a backcountry long-hunter, because of the far-reaching distances he covered in pursuit of wild game. Lucky supplied food for the settlement including wild bear, white-tailed deer, buffalo, elk, and wild turkey.

  “I truly fancy hunting,” Lucky said, patting his long rifle with fingers beginning to look gnarled with age. “It gives me a chance to get away from all this noise and commotion here in town.”

  Sam understood that for men like Lucky, the wild woods made them feel free and offered a chance for adventure. The rich forests held everything he needed to live—game and wild vegetables, fruit, nuts, and berries for food, natural brine salt licks, and hides for clothes. What few items nature didn’t provide, mostly tobacco and powder and ball for his rifle, could be bartered for here in Boonesborough or in one of Kentucky’s three other larger settlements centered around a fort—Lexington, Harrodsburg, and Louisville.

  William patted his new friend on the back. “Lucky’s been a hunter and wagon driver for Daniel Boone and been captured by Indians three times. Escaped twice and released once. That’s why they call him Lucky,” William explained.

  “Aye. A man captured by natives three times and still alive to tell a yarn about it is indeed a mighty lucky fellow,” Bear declared.

  “Or exceedingly clever,” Sam said.

  Lucky winked a twinkling eye at Sam, acknowledging the compliment.

  William continued, “He was just telling me all about Boonesborough. Says the town now boasts a large tobacco warehouse for storage and inspection of tobacco crops, a post office, a newspaper, a fur trade operation, several busy stores, three taverns like this one, and a ferry operated by the Callaway family.”

  Lucky took a quick sip of his ale and then said, “That’s right, the town’s growing as fast as spring weeds. But Kentucky’s still the right place to be if you like the wilderness. Once you get away from Boonesborough, the place is a hunter’s paradise. There are so many buffalo, it looks as if the meadows will sink beneath their weight and there are so many turkeys, they can’t all fly at the same time.”

  The men all laughed. Even Sam managed a small chuckle.

  “Sir, why did you say ‘once you get away from Boonesborough’?” Bear asked.

  “Improvident woodsmen have driven away what used to be multitudes of big game. Now you have to hunt fifteen, twenty, or even thirty miles from here for large game,” Lucky explained. “You carry a mighty long blade there, Captain. I’ve seen men shorter than that blade.”

  “It serves me well,” he said. “Makes it easy to hurt a man’s feelings.”

  “If you use that on a man, I doubt he’d be feeling much of anything,” Lucky said.

  “That’s what I mean,” Sam said.

  Lucky cackled until tears ran down his leathery face, covered with so many deep wrinkles going in every direction it rather resembled a map. “I don’t know about the rest of these gentlemen, but you’ll do just fine in Kentucky Captain.”

  Sam had a feeling Lucky was right. There was something about this new state that made him feel hopeful for the first time in a long while.

  “Is Daniel Boone in town?” Sam asked, remembering that Little John wanted to meet the man. He had to admit, he’d like to meet the legend too. Not because he was famous, but because he admired him.

  “No Sir. He’s facing some trouble with lawyers. The bastards are taking his land. Boone claimed one-hundred-thousand acres more or less, but failed to get legal title to it.”

  “I’m certain he was too busy fighting natives and protecting settlers,” Sam said. He remembered their stories well. The town’s first fighting force of thirty men and twenty boys, aided by the courage and marksmanship of the women, though far outnumbered, fought nobly for a place in the vast wilderness. Blackfish’s Shawnee, wanting to rid their hunting ground of the strange invaders, attacked the Fort repeatedly, butchered cattle and burned cornfields. The settlers became virtual captives trapped within the Fort’s walls. By the time Blackfish finally withdrew, the starving settlers barely clung to life. Nevertheless, the Fort, to its credit, and the surviving settlers, to their glory, did endure. Almost none who came afterward, though, would recall their names. Sam swore he would never forget their sacrifices and their dauntless courage, including Colonel Boone’s.

  Lucky nodded in agreement with Sam. “Sadly, the Colonel’s footsteps have too often been through blood. And his nights were often dark and sleepless. Boone lost two of his own sons and a brother to savage hands. Almost lost his daughter Jemima too when she and two Callaway girls got stole away down by the river by a Cherokee-Shawnee raiding party. But we gave chase and finally got the young women back after two days.”

  “Were the girls hurt?” Stephen asked.

  “No, Jemima said the Indians were kind to them.”

  “So why are they taking Boone’s land?” Sam asked.

  “Lawyers are suing for his claims and it looks like the greedy weasels will succeed in defrauding him. Boone was so disgusted he transported himself and his wife to the mouth of the Little Sandy River in northeastern Kentucky. He has a nice cabin near here, but I don’t know if he’ll ever be back.”

  Little John would be sorely disappointed. Sam was himself. He had a lot of respect for Daniel Boone and the treatment of him that Lucky just described made him angry. He slapped his hand against the tabletop. “Fine way to repay the man for all he’s done settling this frontier. They ought to let those lawyers fight some Indians. Run them through the gauntlet.”

  “What’s a gauntlet?” William asked him.

  Sam turned to William. “From what I’ve read, Shawnees forced Boone to run the gauntlet. Native young men form two long rows and force their prisoner to run between them, beating their captive viciously with heavy sticks. Most men don’t survive, but Daniel escaped serious injury by surprising them and running in a zigzag pattern and butting the last warrior with his head, knocking him over,” Sam explained.

  “That’s what happened all right,” Lucky agreed. He cleared his throat and added, “After that, Chief Blackfish was so impressed he adopted Boone into the tribe, taking him to the river for a ceremony to ‘wash away’ his white blood. Daniel was so badly beaten up it washed away a lot of red blood too.”

  Sam bent his head and studied his hands as he thought about the ir
ony of that bizarre bathing ritual. “Red or white, a man’s blood runs the same way in a river.” Then he took a long drink of his ale.

  “I’d like to see a lawyer run the gauntlet,” Lucky said.

  William lifted his blond head and sat up straighter. “Courts of law are gauntlets of the mind. It takes more skill to maneuver through them than most can imagine.”

  “I suppose you might be right about that,” Lucky admitted.

  “You said Kentucky was a hunter’s paradise,” Stephen said. “Looks to me like a cattleman would find it to his liking.”

  “What’s not mountains, or covered in forest so solid you can’t see daylight, is good land for grazing cattle. In fact, the Cherokee call Kentucky the Great Meadow. But most of the grass here gets turned into buffalo meat, not beef. Ain’t many here yet who have tried to raise up a herd. But the soil is fertile and I believe it will amply reward a man’s toil,” Lucky said. “The taste of a juicy beef steak is indeed a rare treat around here.”

  Just how many names did the natives have for Kentucky? ‘Land of Tomorrow’, ‘The Dark and Bloody Ground’, and now the ‘Great Meadow’. It seemed to Sam like even the Indians had a hard time figuring out this extraordinary place.

  Lucky took a long swallow of his ale, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and said, “Pasture land’s already gettin’ scarce. Speculators buy it—run the price up. And a hell of a lot has gone out to veterans of the Revolution as compensation for service. I never found much use for land myself. At the end of my life, I’ll just have an old worn-out saddle and about a thousand good stories.”

  “Indeed,” Sam said, chuckling. He admired Lucky and his way of life. But he was here to help his brothers. “Where do you suggest we try to settle?”

  “You’ll find some land that will suit you,” Lucky said, “but getting it won’t be easy, and you’ve got to be willing to go off quite a ways from this settlement and, if needed, fight for it.”