New Frontier of Love (American Wilderness Series Romance Book 2) (33 page)

Sam and Bear rode side by side, their horses in a nearly matching rhythm, running at a full gallop. Sam knew their minds were also in perfect rhythm. They had to find the two buffalo hunters and kill them. They would show no mercy—these men were past that now. Their ration of mercy spent on John’s death.

“Are ye all right?” Bear yelled, slowing his horse and looking at Sam. “Ye’ve lost a lot of blood.”

Sam nodded woodenly, but he was far more concerned about his state of mind. His heart, fractured in his chest, was near bursting with grief. His mind, consumed by an overwhelming need for vengeance, struggled to think clearly. He needed to regain control—to think like a warrior and prepare his mind and body for battle.

Bear resumed looking for the tracks of the two horses. The recent rain made it easier for Bear’s experienced eye to quickly find the tracks again and they took off for a second time.

Soon they were only minutes behind the two buffalo hunters. Sam could smell their lingering sour scent in the air.

Bear seemed to catch the scent too, spurring his mount to an even faster run.

Sam’s mind twisted with strange impressions, as if he was in a bizarre dream. If he could just get to the killers, he could save John. But for some reason, it seemed too late to save his brother. But his mind wouldn’t stop trying. Again, he fought to make himself think clearly.

“They’ll start slowin’ soon,” Bear shouted, “or they’ll kill their horses.”

“Doubt they’d care,” he yelled back.

Sam prepared himself to kill. He would not yield until the enemy knew defeat. Catherine was right. It was time to end this.

He had no doubt that they were about to engage in a vicious battle, but it would be a war with no victory—John was already dead. No matter how hard his mind tried to deny it, his brother was gone.

“Look,” Bear yelled, as they crested a hill.

Sam saw the two buffalo hunters pull into a copse thick with brush and pines. He had only seconds to make a decision. Should he and Bear find cover now or barrel towards the two men without slowing?

Suddenly sure what he needed to do, he used the reins to push John’s horse to an even faster run.

Bear urged Camel to keep up and the two horses stormed towards the buffalo hunters, the pounding hoof beats reverberating against tree trunks as they wove their way through the thick trees, both riding faster than was safe.

“The one who killed John is mine,” he swore loud enough for Bear to hear.

As they came closer, the atmosphere in the woods, filled with heavy late afternoon air, became darker and smelled of musk and mold.

This was a mistake. They could be riding into an ambush. Even so, there would be no stopping.

It would take God Himself to make him stop now.

William spotted Stephen. Catherine’s horse and Alex stood nearby grazing in the tall grass. He hurried toward his brother, wrenched his mount to a stop, and flung himself off the horse.

Stephen sat on the ground next to Catherine.

William’s voice asked the question with only her name. “Catherine?”

“She’s wounded, but not gravely. She spoke once when she made Sam take her dagger with him, but then she passed out again. She’s been asleep ever since.”

His mind elsewhere, William had not noticed the dagger on Sam.

“She’s lost considerable blood,” Stephen explained, “but the bleeding has finally stopped.”

William bent down next to both of them. “Whoresons!” he
swore, looking at Catherine and dreading what he was about to tell Stephen.

“Where’s your coat and shirt?” Stephen asked.

William peered into Stephen’s face, his eyes burning with unshed tears. “Stephen, John is dead.” William found the words strange—like he spoke the words in a bad dream. He wanted to spit out the bitter taste they left in his mouth. He fought to restrain his grief, but it grabbed ahold of his face, contorting it with his useless struggle to control his emotions.

He watched as Stephen’s eyes darkened and his brother’s face registered his sorrow and shock. “Dead, oh my God, no!” Stephen howled as he stood, fists clenched at his sides. “No, not him. Not him. No!”

William stood and put a hand on Stephen’s shaking shoulder.

“How?” Stephen asked, his voice cracking.

“Two of the hunters were just about to kill Sam. John was riding hard to Sam’s rescue, and got ahead of Bear and me. One of them shot John, in the heart, and then they took off.”

“Bloody hell, damn them,” Stephen swore. “I’ll kill them.”

“What about Sam? Is he…?” Catherine asked weakly.

William glanced down and realized she had come awake. He knelt down beside her. “Sam has a leg wound, but is otherwise alright. There are only two hunters left. Sam and Bear have gone after them. Don’t worry, they’ll get them.” Moreover, he suspected they would show no mercy.

Catherine closed her eyes again and pressed a fist to her lips. William could tell she was in a great deal of pain.

Stephen threw his hat to the ground in fury.

William watched helplessly as his brother vented his growing rage, repeatedly kicking at the ground.

“I can’t believe he’s dead,” William said, “even though I saw it happen.” He rubbed his eyes, trying to banish the horrible image of John flying off the back of his horse. He swallowed the sob that rose in his throat.

“Let’s get her back to camp,” Stephen finally said through gritted teeth. “Will you get the supply wagon while I stay with Catherine?”

“Yes, and I’ll need to tell Little John, before we have to bring his father’s body back.”

“Send the Judge to get the doc,” Stephen suggested.

“Catherine, just rest. I’ll be back as soon as I can,” William said, remounting. He decided against telling Stephen about George. His brother had enough to deal with for now and perhaps it would be better if Sam told him since he was there when it happened.

“Hurry,” Stephen urged in a choked voice.

As William rode away from one brother, he cried for the loss of another.

William rode into camp with a strong sense of dread—he would have to tell Little John and the others. How? What would he say?

The Judge strode over as William dismounted. “What’s happened son? I see it on your face.”

“Foley’s dead, but Big Ben killed John.” Again, William felt like he might choke on the abhorrent words.

“Damn,” the Judge said simply.

“Foley and his brother waylaid Catherine and Sam. She’s wounded, but not gravely. I’ll use the supply wagon to bring John and Catherine back. Will you get the doctor? Bring him back here as quick as you can?”

“Of course. I’ll go now. Are Sam and Bear going after the killers?” he asked, taking long strides toward his horse.

“They are,” William said. His mind seemed disoriented, as if he was in some confusing dream moving in slow motion. He dreaded the terrible parts still ahead of him. “Where are the others?”

“The children are in the wagons and the women are armed and situated between. I thought that would be their best protection. May the good Lord be with you as you tell the boy.”

As the Judge rode off, Jane and Kelly hurried toward William. His stomach clenched. Little John followed right behind them.

“William, is Stephen all right?” Jane asked right away.

“Yes…but,” he could not make himself finish.

“But what?” Jane demanded.

His eyes told her to wait. He bent down and picked up Little John.

“What about Pa?” Little John asked. “And Uncle Sam?”

William swallowed hard as he faced the hardest thing he had ever done. This is when a man truly needs courage. His own heart was breaking and he was about to crush this little one’s. Better to tell him now, than for Little John to learn when he brought the boy’s father back laid out in the wagon. But his lips could not form the words. For a moment, they could only quiver.

“William?” Kelly asked gently, placing her hand on his shoulder.

Her touch seemed to strengthen him. He sat down on the ground, cross-legged, pulling Little John into his lap.

William glanced up at Jane who pressed her shaking hand to her mouth. Then he looked at Kelly, who now shook her head in understanding.

“Little John, your father died today saving his brothers from some evil men,” William said as gently as he could.

He heard Jane and Kelly both gasp, realization sinking in.

“My Daddy is dead?” Little John asked slowly. “Like my mother?”

William nodded and then enveloped Little John in his arms, pulling the boy against his chest. He couldn’t help John, but perhaps he could help his nephew now.

“And Sam and Catherine?” Jane asked gently.

“Stephen is waiting with Catherine. She has a gunshot wound, but she will live. The Judge just went after the doctor. I have to get the wagon and go back for her and…John. Sam and Bear have gone after John’s killers.”

“God, please protect them,” Jane whispered.

“I’m so sorry Little John,” William said, still hugging the boy.

“Was my Pa a hero?” Little John asked, his chin quivering and tears beginning to stream down his face.

William lifted Little John’s chin and peered directly into the boy’s glistening eyes. “Most definitely. He absolutely was. He was a great hero today,” he assured the boy.

But heroes often die, William realized, tears threatening to spill from his own eyes.

For several seconds, no one spoke, as both uncle and nephew struggled with their shared pain.

William wanted to stay and comfort the boy, but he needed to hurry. He stood and gently handed Little John over to Jane.

Little John had not cried hard until Jane held him. In her arms, he began to sob miserably.

William swallowed and tried to pull himself together. “Kelly, help me hitch Catherine’s team to the supply wagon. I need to hurry.”

They worked quickly, first unloading the supplies stored in the wagon and then attaching the leathers to the team. As they worked, he saw tears slip silently down Kelly’s cheeks. His own eyes burned as he struggled to control his emotions in front of her.

The two finished within minutes and William urged the two stout horses to a canter as he drove off for his brother. Then he would get Catherine and Stephen.

He prayed John would be the only brother the wagon would have to carry this awful day.

CHAPTER 32

A
high caliber ball shattered the trunk of the large oak next to Sam.

Bark and splinters flew everywhere hitting him and the horse. Unaccustomed to the sound of gunfire, John’s horse shied and Sam’s heart stopped for a beat or two as the frightened animal side-stepped severely, almost jumping out from under him. He barely managed to stay in the saddle.

“Whoa now,” he soothed, bringing the horse under control.

Sam took a tighter grip on the reins and quickly pressed the nervous mount toward the two men. He tried to use the dense trees to his advantage. He didn’t think either of the hunters had a good shot. Every time he thought he might be in their sights, he swiftly wove John’s gelding around another tree as Bear followed.

Riding hard, as he thundered through heavy timber, he heard small branches cracking and felt some ripping and slapping at his arms and back. Behind him, he heard Gaelic curses and “Ouch!” several times.

Fortunately, the buffalo hunters had no luck with the two shots they took at Bear either, one a near miss and the other completely
missing even the large target Bear and his horse Camel made.

The two men had to be reloading, but he and Bear were just seconds away. They would be on the hunters before they could reload their weapons. If they wouldn’t surrender and face the judge, it was time to kill.

Sam and then Bear slowed their horses. “Throw down your weapons, and we won’t kill you,” Sam hollered. If he were honest, he hoped they wouldn’t lay down their arms. But honor required that he give them the chance.

“Go to hell,” Big Ben shouted back.

“Piss on you!” the other man yelled.

These men would have to die. The men who had killed John. The men who had blown a good man’s heart to shreds, killing him like an animal, with a gun meant for buffalo. In that instant, the line between revenge and justice completely disappeared. Revenge became its own wild justice. There could be no other way. This had gone too far.