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

by Dorothy Wiley

  “If I’d wanted to kill him, I would have,” Sam snarled.

  “Never…the…less,” the constable stammered, “Mr. Foley is willing to not press charges against Mr. McKee since his ear was damaged.”

  Bear snorted. “Press charges?” His bushy brows drew together in an affronted frown.

  “However, he wants you, Captain Wyllie, arrested for murder since your actions caused the death of his man, and I regret that I must do so.”

  Everyone stared at the constable in stunned disbelief.

  “No!” Catherine cried. Intense astonishment paled her face.

  “Mister Stephen Wyllie, you are also under arrest for assault and breach of the peace. The hunter also plans to sue for the loss of his hand. Knowing Mr. Foley, I hope you gentlemen brought a bundle of cash. I must ask you both to come to town with me.”

  Chapter 15

  Murder? The charge was absurd.

  The corner of his mouth twisted in annoyance, but Sam refused to give in to worry. He would figure a way out of this. But this whole mess could delay their acquiring land and getting settled in homes. That would not be good. Winter was just a few months off.

  He gave Catherine a sidelong glance. Her face had gone white and her mouth still hung open. Would she think him a quarrelsome bully because of this mess? People often thought of him as an intimidating tough warrior, but in truth, he considered his nature to be temperate and kind. He just didn’t tolerate bad people very well. He’d put up with them only to a point. Tolerating bad behavior just promoted more bad behavior.

  “Constable Mitchell, this is beyond absurd, surely you must know what kind of men those brutes are?” William said. “Pray tell, is this the first time they’ve caused trouble?”

  The constable ignored William. “Leave your weapons here,” he told Sam and Stephen.

  Stephen just laughed. “Hell no!”

  Sam did not say a word or move. Keeping cool and composed, he just looked at the constable, his eyes penetrating deep into Mitchell. Annoyed with the distinct note of censure in the young man’s voice, he wanted to shake the constable’s unearned confidence. Then he let his annoyance show, hardening his eyes and twisting his lips.

  “Lo…look Captain Wyllie, Sir, I…I’m only doing my duty here,” the young man stammered, his oily face shining in the campfire’s light. “This is nothing personal. The Circuit Judge, not me, will decide what actually happened between you, Foley, and his men. He should be in Boonesborough within a few days.”

  To Catherine’s surprise, Sam showed no reaction to the constable’s pronouncement. In fact, he seemed unnaturally calm. Then their eyes met and she felt a wave of self-assurance come from him. The man wasn’t worried. For God’s sake, he’d just been charged with murder!

  Catherine turned and watched the nervous constable warily study Sam.

  Sam gave Mitchell a cool appraisal and then she saw his eyes narrow and his mouth twist into a threat as he widened his stance and crossed his arms.

  The young man quickly glanced away, his confidence no match for the Captain’s aura of sheer menace.

  She could not believe this was happening. It all seemed so preposterous. How could a simple fight result in Sam and Stephen’s arrest?

  But a man had lost his life and another his hand. It wasn’t simple anymore.

  Had all the suffering the Wyllie’s endured been for naught? Their long journey for nothing? Would their dreams vaporize in this nonsensical twist of events? Would Stephen miss his first son’s birth because he was in jail? It was inconceivable. Yet it was happening right before her disbelieving eyes.

  She heard a bird singing from the trees, the bright notes a stark contrast to the palatable tension in the damp air.

  She scrutinized Sam. His mouth was tight and grim and a muscle quivered on his check, but he still didn’t look worried. He appeared to be weighing his options. He stood tall and straight, his massive body rigid, his bearing conveying power.

  Why would fate put her and Sam together on this journey and then let this happen? He could be imprisoned—maybe even hung. The thought made her stomach lurch and her heart tighten in her chest.

  She wanted to go to him. Let him hold her, calm her rising panic. Even though he had never held her, she was sure his touch would be reassuring. To have him hold her would be both comforting and sensual. Right now, despite the tense situation or maybe because of it, she longed for both.

  But she held herself back. She drew a deep breath. Leave him alone. Don’t underestimate him. Sam is accustomed to dealing with misfortune.

  He’ll figure a way out of this.

  Sam did not move even a fraction of an inch. He wasn’t going anywhere. “Sir, I am a former decorated Captain in the Continental Army. On my honor, as a gentleman, we will not run and will await the Judge if you allow us to stay here at our camp, but I will not spend a week inside a damn cage like some trapped animal, particularly for some trumped-up crime.”

  As the constable took his time considering the idea, Sam felt his chest expand as he remembered receiving the prized Badge of Merit, created to reward soldiers for, “Singularly meritorious service, instances of unusual gallantry and extraordinary fidelity and faithful service.” General Washington personally designed the award, the figure of a heart on purple cloth. While he had served, Sam proudly wore it, as required, on his left breast. Someday, he would have to show Catherine the medal.

  When Sam returned his focus to the young man, the constable stood shifting from one mud-covered boot to the other and chewing on his bottom lip. Mitchell was probably dreading riding back to town with him and Stephen, much less keeping them a week. He was probably also dreading facing the hunter’s leader without Sam and Stephen in his custody.

  The constable glanced at Stephen who sent the obviously nervous young man another squinty-eyed look of cold anger. Stephen was clenching his jaw so tightly Sam thought it might crack.

  Mitchell’s resolve did crack. “All right, but I’ll have to ask you for a bond, payable in cash right now. Should you decide to flee, Mr. Foley will receive the money and a warrant will be issued for your arrest.” The constable seemed to gather his nerve and walked over to Sam. “You’ll need to give me your knife as evidence until this whole matter is resolved.”

  “Sir, there’s only one way I’d give you my knife, and trust me, you wouldn’t like it,” he barked.

  Constable Mitchell quickly said, “Perhaps we don’t need that piece of evidence after all.” He took several steps away from Sam, and his knife. “But be sure to bring it to your trial.”

  Stephen marched over to Mitchell, faced him. “I assume you will provide a receipt?”

  “Of course, Sir.” The constable borrowed ink and paper and quickly wrote the receipt while Sam and Stephen got the coins to pay the bond.

  “We wish you God’s speed keeping those thugs at bay,” William told the man as he left.

  After Mitchell left, John turned to face Sam. Ire burned in his brother’s eyes. “Now look where we are. We will probably lose the money we brought to buy land. Your combative nature and Stephen’s pride got us into this mess. Disputes do not have to be settled with violence!”

  “Now hold on…,” Bear started.

  “And you, you probably fought for the fun of it,” John said, raising his voice and pointing an accusing finger at Bear. “None of you are living as God wants you to.”

  “You sound like a self-righteous sanctimonious idiot,” Sam yelled. “You were not there and you have no right to wrongly accuse us.”

  “I wasn’t there, but I know what losing our land money will mean. We’re in trouble and you’re going to regret this fight for a long time to come,” John shouted. “This is trouble we didn’t need—we already had more than enough to deal with. We will be lucky to get any land, if Indians or storms don’t kill us first. Or, you’ll get us killed by provoking others with your belligerent behavior.”

  Sam could only glare at John. He did not want to sa
y what he was thinking. Instead of making John a tougher and stronger man, the wilderness seemed to be taming him. And the wilderness was no place for the tame.

  “You could have walked away from those men,” John continued. “You can’t be acting like a bunch of ruffians and louts. We must set examples for others, rely on using our heads, not the might of our muscles.”

  “You let others fight our battles and then stand in smug judgment?” Sam asked with grim impatience.

  “I’ll fight any battle that needs fighting. But this one didn’t. It was pure vanity and foolish pride. Now we may lose our land before we even get it,” John yelled.

  “If anyone’s being foolish here, it’s you, John,” Stephen said, keeping his voice calm. “Keep it up and you will be fighting a battle—with me.”

  “Another battle. That’s just what we need,” John said contemptuously. “This is serious. Stephen, you will wind up in jail for Lord knows how long. Sam could even be hung. This situation is out of control.”

  “The only thing out of control is you,” Stephen swore.

  “Hung?” Martha wailed. “No! No!” She started sobbing loudly, which made Polly and Little John start crying too.

  Seeing the children upset tore at Sam’s heart. Forgetting his annoyance with John, he quickly stooped down to comfort Martha. “Uncle John is mistaken. He just doesn’t understand yet how things work here in the wilderness. No one is going to hang. I promise you that, little ones.”

  Then he patted Little John’s head, stood, and turned to John again. Keeping the tone of his voice level and calm, he said, “John, you are succumbing to panic. The worst possible thing you can do in a situation like this. The only thing you are succeeding at is frightening the children.” He lowered his voice even more and shifted closer to John’s face. “If you intend to persist in censoring our behavior, I suggest you go stay in town. My patience has reached its limit.”

  Now, Little John wailed in earnest. The children had rarely seen the adults fight and Sam realized they didn’t know what to think. Even Kelly appeared on the verge of tears.

  Jane, however, just got mad, her face turning nearly as red as her hair. She seldom lost her temper, but once she did, it was good and lost. “For mercy’s sake stop this! All of you. You sound like a bunch of foolish schoolboys, arguing over who started the fight. You are tired—beyond tired, exhausted. You’re discouraged because it looks like getting land will be far more difficult than we planned. And you experienced a vicious fight that you didn’t ask for. But all this will soon be behind us. John, remember nothing is out of control that is under His control. Where is your faith? Your faith in the Almighty and your faith in your brothers? Can you really lose it that easily?”

  She turned from John to the others, her green eyes blazing. “Save your anger for our enemies. We must stick together like the family we are. This Foley man can’t hurt us unless we let him come between us. We agreed before we left to stick together no matter what and I will not let you forget it,” Jane bellowed. “Now act like you’re Wyllies, including you Bear, not one of those thugs.”

  No one spoke for a minute, except with their eyes. Among family, a lot can be said without uttering a word.

  “Please forgive me for interfering in a family matter, but Jane’s right,” Catherine said, lifting her chin and stepping forward. “You haven’t come all this way to let a few dirty buffalo hunters stop you from fulfilling your destinies. They may be able to bring down buffalo that can’t defend themselves, but, by God, they will not bring down this good family.”

  Sam arched an eyebrow at the vehemence he heard in her voice.

  “The law will protect us,” William said.

  Sam groaned. “To hell with the law. We’ve seen what the law looks like around here. We’ll protect ourselves,” he barked. “As John said, we’ll use our heads, and, if necessary, brute force. Whatever it takes to keep our family safe.”

  He could sense the steam escaping from John as he leaned against a nearby wagon wheel. John’s anger was cooling, but his brother’s concern was not. Worry still filled John’s downturned face and his voice. “My apologies to all of you,” John said. “Especially to you children. It was wrong of me to frighten you. I’m troubled that we’re off to such a bad start. I don’t want to see us lose our hard-earned land money to a bunch of hooligans.” He picked up Little John, wiped away the boy’s tears, and looked into his son’s eyes. “And I don’t want you Little John, or Martha and Polly, dragged into some feud that threatens your safety. I just want to keep you safe.”

  “We didn’t ask for this trouble, but we sure as hell will deal with it,” Sam swore. “Those men will not harm the children or anyone else. Nor will they ever see as much as a coin of our land money. You have my word on that. Before this feud is over, we may have a battle, but we beat them once, and we can do it again.”

  “And tomorrow morning we’ll be at the land office waiting for it to open,” Stephen said. “This will not stop us from doing what we came here to do, by God.”

  “Amen,” John said.

  “Amen!” Little John repeated, wrapping his little arm around his father’s shoulders.

  Lightning flashed across the now dark sky and then a clap of thunder boomed nearly overhead, as though God said “amen” as well.

  The storm had returned.

  Chapter 16

  The next morning, Sam waited outside the Land Office, along with Stephen and Bear. He and Bear leaned against the log building, patiently waiting for the office to open, while Stephen impatiently paced back and forth on the building’s wood plank porch.

  Sam took notice of one family of about twelve in number who arrived shortly after they did and also awaited the Commissioner. As the father walked up, he carried an ax and a rifle on his shoulders. The plump wife carried the rim of a spinning wheel in one hand and a baby in the other. Several little boys and girls, each with a bundle matching their size stood clustered together beside two poor horses, heavily loaded with the family’s necessities. A milk cow, with a bag of meal on her back, also waited with them. The family seemed not only patient but cheerful, filled with the expectation of seeing happier days here in Kentucky. Sam hoped their desires would be more than fulfilled.

  Finally, Commissioner Simmons arrived. Thick-necked, pot-bellied, and nearly out of breath, Simmons welcomed them warmly, apologizing for keeping them waiting. Wiping beads of sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief, he said excitedly, “I’ve been listening to stories of your encounter with the buffalo hunters. The whole town is buzzing about it. You brave men are already local heroes.”

  Surprised, Sam glanced at Stephen and Bear, who also appeared taken aback. But none of them mentioned the pending charges against them.

  “You men did Boonesborough a favor yesterday. It would be an honor to help you,” he added. Addressing the large family, he said, “I’ll be with you good folks as soon as I finish with these gentlemen.” He unlocked his office door and motioned them inside.

  The bright early morning sun lit up the maps nailed to every rough log wall in Simmons’ dusty office.

  Sam began studying the maps, paying particular attention to the Filson Map of Kentucky, published only a few years before. As a mapmaker himself, he appreciated the fine work of John Filson, and the effort and personal sacrifices taken to create it. The popular map clearly showed the location of rivers and creeks as well as mountains and hills.

  “Much of the land we have for settlement in Kentucky was negotiated in the Hopewell and Holston treaties. Unfortunately, many of the treaty boundary lines remain unclear and are often disputed by the native tribes and fighting has continued on and off for the last seven or eight years. Let me show you what may be your best choices,” Simmons said, pointing to Filson’s map.

  Sam moved aside to give the others room to see the intricate map too.

  “The most recently developed area, with the least threat of Indian trouble, is about 75 miles west and south of here.
Unless you go too far west where the Chickasaw lands begin and counties are not yet organized. Northeast is quite mountainous and the Shawnees still use it as hunting grounds. You’ll certainly want to stay away from them. The southeast is best for traders and trappers because of its access to the Cumberland Gap and the Wilderness Road,” he explained, “but the Cherokee still hunt the majority of the area and therefore the land is not available yet for patenting.”

  “We saw some lush grassland there on our way here,” Stephen said. “I wondered why that land looked as if it had not yet been claimed.”

  “In a word—Cherokees,” Simmons said.

  “Indians killed a whole flatboat of families—even the poor wee bairns,” Bear said, “not long after we crossed the Cumberland River.”

  “I heard about that unfortunate event,” Simmons said. “Before we go on, I need to explain something to you, Captain. Earlier you said you would be making application for a Bounty Grant. The Bounty Grants for Revolutionary service are now only for men who served from Kentucky and Virginia. You will only be entitled to a regular land patent, the same as everyone else.”

  Sam stared at the Commissioner for several moments, then crossed his arms. “Show me the statute, Sir,” he ordered.

  Simmons turned to his cluttered desk, opened a drawer, and after several moments of searching, pulled the statute. He read it aloud to Sam, stammering over a few of the words.

  “Hell of a note,” Sam snarled when Simmons finished. “I didn’t just fight for New Hampshire. We fought for the whole country, including Virginia, of which this new state was formerly a large part.”

  “You did,” Simmons conceded, “but the General Assembly recently recognized that Kentucky would run out of land if too many veterans from other states made their claims here.”

  “Fine thing to tell a man after he’s made a thousand-mile trip here,” Sam grumbled. “None of the newspaper notices mentioned this.”