New Frontier of Love (American Wilderness Series Romance Book 2) (3 page)

She slowed to let another wagon filled with fresh-smelling lumber turn in front of her. Then she gave the reins in her gloved hands a snap, urging her horse team along. She followed closely behind Sam, the oldest of the brothers, and the other four horseback men in his family.

She thought a lot of all of them—brave, good men, who would do anything for one another. Despite her best efforts to stop
thinking about Sam, an odd longing filled her. He now rode next to Stephen. He sat his horse ramrod straight and shoulders squared, his deerhide shirt stretched across the large muscles of his back. The slight breeze ruffled his shoulder length dark hair. Unlike his brothers, who all wore the traditional tricorne three-cornered hat, Sam wore no head covering at all unless it was bad weather. Knee-high rugged moccasins covered his feet instead of customary leather boots and reached up to his dark leather breeches.

But it was his huge knife that contributed the most to his daunting appearance. Although attached to a beautifully carved deer horn handle, the blade left no question as to its purpose—to kill and kill swiftly.

Sam looked to her as if he belonged here on the frontier, at the edge of civilization. He was a man as powerful as the intimidating long knife he carried. If anyone belonged here, he did.

But did she?

“It’s hard to believe we’re really here,” Kelly marveled. “You, all the way from Boston, and me from the woods of Virginia. Do you suppose we both wound up here with the Wyllies, for a reason?”

“Maybe so. Fate has a way of choosing our path,” she said.

Kelly inclined her blonde head toward her and said, “No, I believe God has a way of pointing us toward our future.”

Maybe her destiny was in Kentucky, Catherine mused. Was she pointed here for a reason? If so, what was it? She wanted more in life than society balls and practicing fancy needlework. She wanted to do something meaningful. Something important. But what?

She knew only one thing for sure. She would decide her future.

CHAPTER 2

A
fter they rode past the Fort and well into the town itself, Sam studied the faces of Bear and his younger brothers, Stephen, John, and William. The four now rode next to him, side by side, nearly connected as one. Despite their obvious excitement at having finally reached their destination, the faces of all four appeared weathered and drawn. The journey had taken its toll. Even the faces of the three children looked haggard. Hell, even the faces of the ox and horse wagon-teams looked weary. He couldn’t blame them.

With a single-minded obsession, he’d pushed them relentlessly, traveling sunrise to sunset for months, steadily southward, passing big cities, and small towns, further and further apart. He desperately wanted to arrive in time to secure their land and get homes built before winter.

He had led them due west, on an old trading path that colonists improved into a road following the Revolution. They replenished their supplies in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, the last major town and the edge of the frontier.

By July, they travelled southwesterly, through Virginia’s
Shenandoah Valley, between the Appalachian and Blue Ridge mountain ranges, before turning north and passing into Kentucky through the Cumberland Gap.

“We left New Hampshire in late April,” Stephen said. “It took us a hundred and twenty three days. We would not have made it without you, Sam. Even back there with those hunters, you kept it from turning into a blood bath.”

“The frontier is no place for the hot-headed,” Sam said.

“You were the rock we all leaned on,” John agreed.

“He is hard headed,” William added with a chuckle. “But in all seriousness, you did teach us how to be ever alert and cautious. I learned that the hard way.”

“The wilderness is also no place for the careless,” Sam said.

“And na place for amateurs,” Bear said.

Sadly, the wilderness was full of them. Sometimes on the Wilderness Trail, they saw the camps of other travelers, but wary of strangers Sam urged that they keep to themselves. Some of those travelers experienced an even more trying trip. They rode draft horses or mules or walked and most were unkempt and ill clad in homespun. Several times, they saw entire families on foot with all their meager belongings tied to their bent backs. Sam pitied them. They journeyed west with little more than an abundance of hope.

With his brothers and Little John well mounted and the women and girls riding in the relative comforts of the wagons, their large group was more prepared than most. Before they left, he had carefully compiled a long supplies list, knowing that adequate provisions could mean the difference between success and failure—and life and death.

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 own 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.