She gave him a half-grin that seemed to convey some secret knowledge.
“You said courage comes from the heart. But, where does that courage come from?” Catherine asked.
“Courage comes from recognizing and challenging danger. Fear comes from turning your back on threats and running from them.”
Her mind raced, searching for understanding. What was going on in that enigmatic mind of his? Was he talking about Kentucky or something else? Did he sense peril now? “Are you concerned about dangers here, Captain?”
“Danger is a part of life, the part that keeps us sharp. You can’t escape it. As I once told my brothers, danger has a way of finding us no matter our place or how many precautions we take. The important thing is to stay ever alert and to be prepared to respond appropriately.”
“But, what if you don’t?”
His eyes seemed to cloud with a hidden worry. “All life involves what ifs. What ifs can smother your life in the dust of doubt.”
Again, his voice, rich and deep, stirred something within her. It was the type that compels others to listen. They also listened, she thought, because the Captain could parry with words nearly as skillfully as with his knife.
She wanted to listen to him too. But he wasn’t saying what she wanted to hear. She needed him to say that he wanted her to stay in Kentucky. That he could find enough courage to see if the two of them could have a future here. What if he would never be able to? Maybe she should just give up.
No, she wouldn’t let doubts smother her newfound dream. She would be patient.
Sam yanked out his knife again and slowly turned the blade, a pensive look on his face. The cutting edge glistened menacingly, evidence of its readiness. “Life is much like this knife. If it’s rusty and dull, or if you’re afraid to use it, it’s nearly worthless. Sharp, in the hands of a man of courage, it can fight for life. Conquer life’s enemies.” Sam paused. A muscle on his jaw quivered before he said, “I, for one, do not intend to become useless and dull.”
Without warning, Sam threw his knife. Her eyes followed the blade’s path across the campsite. It slashed through the air in the flicker of a second. Yet time suspended, froze with her heart, so hard was her concentration on the blade. The knife pierced a nearby tree, ignoring the strength of the big oak.
The air vibrated with the thud of its impact. With the sound of its power.
Then, she heard only silence, except for the sound of Sam’s words in her head. And, the red-hot fire changing dead wood to glowing embers.
She plucked her dagger from its sheath and threw it. It landed nearly adjacent to Sam’s knife. “Neither do I,” she said.
Sam could not believe his eyes. He stared at her dagger and his blade imbedded in the tree side by side. Yes, danger has a way of finding us no matter our place. She was dangerous and he recognized it. That knowledge turned and twisted inside his brain. It was pointless to deny his attraction to her. He needed to respond appropriately.
If he didn’t, he just might become useless and dull.
Without taking his eyes off their blades he asked, “What are your plans, Catherine?”
“I hesitate to continue to impose on your family, another mouth to feed, and another female to protect. You didn’t ask for that burden and I won’t impose on your family’s hospitality. It’s just that I have no one in Kentucky and with the only inn in Boonesborough full, I see no other options for now. I should return to Boston. But, after traveling for so long, I don’t want to leave just yet.”
He turned to face her. “From what I’ve seen, you’ve been more of a help than a burden. As far as protecting you, you’re obviously quite capable of protecting yourself. All of us depend upon one another for strength against our enemies. There’s strength in numbers. You would add to that strength, not detract from it. I can speak for the others. You’re welcome to stay with us as long as you need. You can write to your family and let them know what has happened. They can contact our brother Edward in New Hampshire and he can offer proof of our family’s good reputation.”
“What about Stephen? He may not agree that it’s the right thing to do.”
“Stephen will agree with me.” At least Sam hoped he would.
“I’m still not sure Captain. Living in Kentucky with your husband is one thing. Staying with a group of men—four of whom are unmarried—that I have known for only a few weeks is quite another. What will people in Boston think? What about preserving my reputation?”
“Reputations are made on the frontier, not preserved. Sometimes life forces a person to live by new rules. Life can be uncivilized and unpredictable. You’ve learned that already as much as anybody. We have to adapt—not live by rules that fit another place and another way of life.”
“It’s all so bloody confusing.”
“It’s simple really. It comes down to this. Do you want to live in Kentucky in this virgin wilderness? Are you suited to life in the west? Or, would you be more at home among polite society in Boston. If it’s the frontier, it’s time to make your own rules, your own life.”
“I’ve never thought about it quite like that. I’ve always followed the rules of civil society. I just did what my father and husband wanted me to do—what they expected of me. They were my guardians and made every major decision for me. I never felt any control over my own future. At least….not until…this very moment.” She said the words slowly and deliberately, as if their meaning sunk in only as she spoke them aloud.
“That’s what the wilderness is all about. Making your own destiny. And living it. Truly living it. That’s why I wanted to come here. I needed to feel alive again. And I do here. Don’t you feel it too? It’s almost an awakening. Here you don’t just live life, you have life to live.”
“Life to live. I like the sound of that.”
So did he, especially when she said it.
Chapter 10
Sam hiked through the woods, several miles from their campsite, searching for small game. Except for Bear, he was the best hunter among their group and could usually guarantee fresh meat for their dinners. He admired the abundant red maple, walnut, hickory, cottonwood, and oak trees that crowded between pines for their place in the dense forest, a storehouse of nature for heavy lumber. Soon these impressive trees might become homes, stores, boats, wagons, furniture, and even weapons, like the rifle he carried.
As he entered a clearing, he peered up. A bald eagle soared overhead, its immense brown wings spread wide, stroking the air with graceful glides. The eagle whistled a series of high-pitched notes. He thought the eerie call of the regal bird unlike any other in nature. He hoped the eagle would have a successful hunt today as well.
Sam returned to scanning around him, seeking signs of the slightest movement. He stopped abruptly. An overturned and abandoned kettle lay across the path. He glanced around, found a moldy and shredded woman’s shawl, and then spotted a bright spot among decaying leaves. An embroidered child’s bonnet. He bent over to pick it up and slowly ran his finger across the faded fabric. A family would only give up these precious items for one reason. Indians.
Sam’s gut wrenched as he imagined the horror the head of this family must have experienced as natives stole his wife and slaughtered his child before his eyes. Likely, the Indians then tortured the man. Now nothing remained of their existence here, except these few rotting clues. These poor folks never got the chance to be a part of the conquest of the wilderness. The wilderness conquered them.
His hands grew damp and his stomach knotted. A disturbing cold crept through him and he tried to push it back into the dark where it belonged. He tossed the bonnet back into the brush. “Not me. No, never again. Hell no. Once was enough,” he whispered to no one but himself.
He should just acquire a small parcel of land, he decided as he swiftly resumed walking. Just enough for a cozy cabin tucked into the woods. He only needed a shelter. Just a place to store some of his things. He did not need a family.
He swallowed what f
elt like a pang of regret, blew out a slow breath, and continued quietly searching the forest. It smelled of both fresh and rotting wood. A medley of life and death, each fighting for a place. But life always managed to struggle to the surface.
It was time for him to let life surface in his own life.
He would find out what this new state of Kentucky looked like from top to bottom. That’s what it means to truly live. Finding places you have never seen before. Here there were places no one had ever seen before. That made it all the better.
The thought of riding his horse all through Kentucky seemed appealing too. His previous mounts never managed to earn his admiration or affection. But Alex’s spirit seemed an excellent match for his own temperament. Sam smiled as he noticed that the handsome buckskin’s coat was the same shade as the buckskins he wore. And the horse’s mane and tail were almost an exact match to Sam’s dark hair. He laughed. They were nearly a matched pair!
As far as making a living, he had been thinking that there would be a great demand for fast horses in the west, where a man’s horse could make the difference between life and death. In the wild, the horse was a valued intermediary between man and nature. Good trail horses needed both speed and stamina and he thought both were possible with the right breeding. The possibility of raising horses bred to be both strong and fast was an interesting proposition. He’d ponder that further in the future, he decided.
As beams of sunlight fell on the woods, the stronger trees seemed to call to Sam, wanting him to transform them into a cozy home. He could almost see the welcoming structure. The sensation shocked him. He had never considered building a home before. Back in New Hampshire, someone who had gone west abandoned an old cabin and he promptly claimed it purely because it suited his minimal needs—a place to store his things and find shelter during the harshest weather. He made no improvements to it during the infrequent times he actually resided there. He spent most of his days and nights on one trail or another anyway. But now, as he ambled through the timber, the thought of building a home settled comfortably in his mind, surprising him.
If fate had been different, he might have someone he loved to build a home for. But she left long ago for heaven and he would probably never see her again. Even though he counted himself a believer, Sam doubted whether a man like him could ever be considered a fitting resident for heaven. There must be some other place for old warriors like him.
So why did he find himself thinking about building a home? He liked nothing better than this—exploring the wilderness. He enjoyed living free—not confined to the boundaries of four walls. And he wanted to keep it that way.
He heard a faint rustle of leaves. A rabbit with large hind feet, long ears, and a short fluffy white tail scurried across the path up ahead. His knife left his hand in the same moment. The blade instantly hit the animal, penning it to the leaves beneath it. He quickly withdrew his knife and then stuffed the fat bundle of gray-brown fur into his haversack hanging across his back.
One down, four or five to go. Acquiring enough food for all eleven of their group posed a challenge. It was one reason he usually wore tall leather moccasins rather than leather boots. The softer leather allowed him to make less noise as he walked, lessening the chances of scaring game away.
But it took more than being quiet to be a good hunter. Keeping his eyes open for hidden dangers, he would regularly stop, listen, and look. Some hunters made the mistake of walking heedlessly as if they were out for an afternoon stroll. A good hunter needed to use all his senses because animals were better than humans at remaining unseen.
He considered the task of hunting more recreation than chore, a chance to get away by himself and think. Today he found himself thinking about his own future for a change. He had committed himself to helping Stephen and the others reach these rich lands opening up in Kentucky. But now that they were here, land seemed important to him too. With his own land, a man can be free. Free to live, as he wanted, on his own place, in his own way.
Owning land was something Sam never considered before. But now he found the idea intriguing. He had to admit that he actually envied Stephen and Jane for having another child on the way. Maybe that’s what he was missing. Maybe that’s what was making him think about a home and land for the first time.
Sam adored his nephew and nieces. On their journey, he grew even fonder of them, especially Little John. The first Wyllie son to be born to the five brothers, Little John held a special place in his heart. Sometimes, when he thought about the boy, as he was now, he regretted not having a son of his own, a family to come home to. For most of his life, he lived the life of a soldier—wedded only to his country. But a country didn’t warm your bed at night or run in to hug you in the morning. A country can respect its soldiers and honor its heroes, but it can’t love them. Countries give their heroes metals, not a family, not warmth, not love.
As he walked further, he realized that only a few had dared to venture out into these woods—to set their eyes on what he saw now—a virgin forest filled with chirping songbirds sprinkled among a colorful pageant of blooming dogwoods, redbud trees, lush green ferns, meandering vines, and sweet-smelling wildflowers.
Strange, earlier, he smelt only wood. But here, the air smelled like life itself. He inhaled the fresh fragrance deeply and it seemed to settle him.
Then he began a stealth walk ahead. He needed to focus on finding food or they would all be sleeping with growling stomachs. The gobble of wild turkeys warbled up from deep in the woods.
After a couple hours, Sam turned back toward camp with his haversack full of plump rabbits and a wild turkey slung over his shoulder. He would cut the breast out of the turkey and let Jane fry it up in a pan with her special seasoning. Then he would skin the rabbits, skewer the meat on a rod, and set them to roast over the fire until they sizzled and their delicious aroma filled their camp. The thought made his mouth water.
But as he hiked, something kept itching at his mind, distracting him. He just wanted to reach in and scratch it—to stop it from irritating him further. What the heck was it?
Then he knew. It wasn’t what, it was who—Catherine.
He imagined her figure, curving and regal, coming out the front door, and standing on a large porch of a home that he built. In his mind, he saw her beautiful smile as he approached from nearby timbers. Then, he pictured a little child peeking out from behind her skirts, and the boy smiled too and then started running toward him.
He had to admit, his heart warmed at the thought.
That evening, Catherine didn’t feel the least bit sleepy. She walked towards the creek bank until she spotted Bear cleaning animal skins.
Sam stood nearby, grooming Alex, trying to comb knots out of the horse’s long black mane.
This could be interesting. She marched straight to Bear.
“Would you be kind enough to sharpen my blade Bear?” she asked, extending her hand and the dagger.
“Of course I will, lass.” Bear wiped his hands on a rag and then put his big palm under the hand that held the dagger. He slowly took the blade with his other hand, letting his hands linger longer than necessary.
As Bear touched her and met her eyes, she felt nothing, only the rough texture of his strong hands. She remembered feeling a tremble inside her when Sam made only the slightest contact with her hand when she passed her treasured blade to him.
Bear began to sharpen the blade with his whetstone. She glanced around to be certain Sam stood close enough to hear them. Good, he was.
She saw Sam take a glance back at her. His expression grew somber. Keenly aware of his scrutiny, she felt her face flush as he looked at her enigmatically. What didn’t he understand? If he wasn’t going to pay attention to her, then what did he expect?
“Bear, you’re so skillful at handling a knife,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes at Bear.
Bear smiled broadly at the compliment.
“Will you show me how to sharpen it?” She knew full well how to
sharpen her dagger, but decided something might be gained by Bear’s lesson. That something had little to do with a sharp blade.
“Aye. Have a seat here next to me and I’ll show ye,” Bear said, moving over on the fallen tree trunk that served as his bench.
She sat as close to the giant of a man as possible, tucking her skirts beneath her.
“Hold the whetstone like this,” Bear said, demonstrating, and then putting the stone in her hand.
Her long braid fell over her shoulder and touched the stone.
“We canna have your lovely hair in the way now can we,” Bear said, gently pushing her braid behind her back. She felt Bear’s hand rest on her back for a moment.
Catherine glanced up just in time to see that Sam did not miss Bear’s gesture. It had just the effect on Sam she’d hoped. His lips pinched together and eyes narrowed, he looked like he wanted to give Bear a lesson in the use of a knife. With a black look over his shoulder toward Bear, Sam shifted to the rear of the horse, putting his back to them, and began raking the comb through the gelding’s tail with a vengeance.
Enjoying this, she could not help smiling to herself. After all, the Captain deserved it. His cool, aloof manner irked her. If he’d been more attentive, she wouldn’t have to play these silly games. It was his own fault. First, he suggests that she stay in Kentucky. Then, when she did, he pointedly ignored her.
She would make him travel a lot further than the thousand miles from New Hampshire to Kentucky. She’d make him journey from a cold heart to love. No matter how long it took, she’d keep trying, she decided. A man like Sam would be worth every mile of effort. Eventually, he’d have to stop running, and when he did, she suspected he’d grab love with a passion as strong as he was.
She respected Sam’s strength. It wasn’t just the obvious physical strength reflected in his height, broad shoulders and well-muscled arms. She admired the strength of his character. A character made rich and deep by the difficult life he’d led—the battles he fought, the enemies he’d defeated, and the challenges hurled at him by the dark side of nature. She could tell the Captain not only faced life’s challenges, he actually welcomed them with a confidence born of courage.
Romancing the Wilderness: American Wilderness Series Boxed Bundle Books 1 - 3 Page 37