Wilderness Trail of Love (American Wilderness Series Romance Book 1) (18 page)

“My love,” he whispered the words on a breath against her cheek.

The passion between them was undeniable and grew more fervent with each joining—like a perfect secret only the two of them shared. He was hers and she was his. And that would never change.

“Stephen, I love you so much it hurts.”

“I know of only one cure.”

“Aye,” she whispered.

As he linked his body to hers, he did so slowly, savoring the
amazing feel of her.

She whimpered and arched against him.

He closed his eyes, reveling in that extraordinary feeling when they were one—the only time they were completely together—two halves of one whole. Each moment joined with her was perfect pleasure and he wanted every second to last forever. Every kiss to be endless.

He found the irresistible taste of her lips both sensual and soothing to his spirit. Not only did his body keenly crave hers, so did his soul. For the need she satisfied was not just physical, it was an urgent need for his soul to bond to hers—to create a link so strong it could not be undone.

She grabbed his biceps, gripping his muscles, hanging on to his arms as her body climbed an exquisite mountain of pleasure.

As she reached the mountain’s pinnacle, his entire body grew taut, every muscle submitting to an odd power capable of taking over his will, until it had complete control of him and he had no choice but to yield to its power. He gave her all he had and surrendered.

Then a nearly violent tremor possessed her followed slowly by a melting softness. Her entire body grew limp, as if she had no choice but to rest after the thrilling climb.

He held her tightly, guarding her, until her mind and body returned from the mountain top. They had done justice to the present and it made him look forward to the future all the more.

CHAPTER 19

S
tephen woke reluctantly, not wanting to leave his pleasant dream. He glanced around, realizing they had all slept longer than normal, as the sunrise stayed hidden behind a massive wall of darkening clouds. He’d dreamt of Jane. The taste and feel of her the evening before left him wanting more, a lot more. But as the menacing storm approached against a wolf gray dawn, the clouds opened up and it began to rain and with dismal insistence rudely extinguished the heat of his desire. Then the cold drops woke the other sleeping travelers one by one.

Unable to make breakfast without a fire, they settled for cold jerky, corn meal cakes, and water. It would be a long day with five wet men who had missed their morning coffee. Skipping the brew never seemed to bother Jane because she wasn’t fond of coffee anyway. She preferred tea.

“Let’s go. We might as well get wet moving as sitting here,” Stephen said, even more impatient than usual.

“Are you sure?” Jane asked, eyeing the mountainous dark clouds and lightning in the distance. “Maybe we should wait it out.”

“If we stop every time rain blows in, we’ll never get there,”
Stephen said. “This downpour won’t let up anytime soon.”

“No it won’t,” Sam agreed. “It’s going to be a real frog strangler, but we have no decent cover here. I’d as soon get wet sitting on a horse as hiding under a wagon.”

For several long hours, they endured the thunderstorm, making slow miserable progress. The gloomy morning looked more like late evening. Water flowed in steady streams through every low point on the trail. The oxen trudged through sticky mud, every step they took becoming more difficult. Goosebumps rose on Stephen’s arms as the temperature dropped, making them all cold as well as wet.

The trail ahead became increasingly difficult to see as the rain turned into heavy torrents. Then the wind picked up, blowing rainwater horizontally and throwing small branches and wet leaves in every direction, as though the storm could not decide which way to turn.

Stephen rode next to Jane and noticed her hands trembling so hard she had difficulty keeping the team moving. He tied George to the side of the wagon and jumped up beside her. “Get in the back and dry off,” he ordered.

For once, she gave him no argument. She nodded, handed him the guide rope, and kissed him before climbing into the back. Her lips felt wonderful against his cold face, and he wished she could linger there longer, deepen the kiss. At least the thought warmed him.

“Get under the blankets,” Jane told the children.

“But I’m afraid,” he heard Polly whine.

“Remember what I taught you, ‘fear sees the storm, faith sees God in the storm’,” Jane said.

“This doesn’t look much like God to me,” he heard Martha say.

Stephen had to agree with her.

“Step up!” he urged the oxen. It worked for a few yards and then they slowed again, unable or unwilling to improve their pace in the downpour.

The heavy rain suddenly slowed to a steady drizzle and he turned to look inside the wagon. Jane was trying to dry off as best she could, but it was hopeless, her gown and cloak were soaked. “Get out of that wet gown,” he suggested.

“I guess I’ll have to. Little John, cover your head with that blanket, so I can change my clothes.”

Stephen glanced back inside to be sure the boy complied as she hauled a dry gown out of her wooden trunk.

“He’s peeking Father,” Polly accused, pointing her finger at her cousin.

“Am not you tattle tale,” he shouted, taking the opportunity to lower the blanket again.

“Little John, if you don’t keep your head under that blanket, I’ll shave all the hair off your handsome little head,” Jane threatened.

All the girls laughed.

“Best you do as she says, boy,” Stephen said, then grinned.

Little John moved closer to Stephen and threw the blanket over his head. “There are too many girls in here.”

He had to sympathize, four girls, plus Jane. No wonder Little John felt outnumbered. He knew exactly how his nephew felt.

As quickly as the deluge slowed, a heavy downpour started up again.

Sam pulled his horse up alongside. “I’ll scout ahead, see if I can find shelter.”

“Good, this wagon is starting to float,” Stephen yelled back.

Sam urged his mount to a trot. The big gelding responded eagerly, undoubtedly anxious to find shelter too. Sam kept the horse at a brisk pace until the muddy trail began a gradual slope downhill. The treacherous path would hold numerous hidden rocks and cracks under the flowing water. He slowed the gelding to a walk and prayed his mount wouldn’t stumble and break a leg.

Iridescent white lightning exploded overhead like burning arrows, shooting across the dark sky.

Sam sensed his horse growing tenser under him at each angry bolt. He had to admit, the terrible thunderstorm made him edgy as well.

The trail turned to follow the side of the hill and Sam hoped it signaled a chance for shelter. But each bend in the road only revealed more trail and each section of the trail only led to more woodlands. Sam began to wonder if he should turn back. Finally, he saw a clearing of grass and gravel underneath a large rock overhang. The stone outcropping slanted sharply from the side of the hill, rain falling off its edge in a steady waterfall. It appeared just big enough to pull the wagon under and maybe keep the horses out of the deluge too. He turned around and urged his mount back up the trail toward the others.

In the next moment, lightning hit so hard and so close, the ground quaked, nearly knocking Sam out of the saddle. The bolt’s reverberation exploded painfully in his ears as though someone had fired heavy artillery next to his head. Sam tried to cover his face
with his trembling arms as splintered smoldering wood and pine bark flew through the air. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the huge tree beginning to fall. He urged the gelding forward in an effort to escape. But it was too late. He and the horse joined the large tree’s deafening collision with the ground. Landing solidly on the mount’s hindquarters, he heard the horrific sound of the pine’s trunk shattering his horse’s back and hips. Instantaneously, his gelding was dead and he lay trapped beneath thick heavy branches.

Sam remained motionless, unable to hear or to think clearly. But he needed to get moving. He shook his head to try to clear it. Winded in the fall, he struggled to draw shallow breaths while he assessed his predicament. He could smell the tree smoldering. Fire? He couldn’t move his foot and knee, pinned under the horse and saddle. His ankle screamed like someone had just planted a hatchet in it. A large branch immobilized his right arm, but he didn’t think the arm was broken, he could still move his fingers without pain.

Sam tried to move his other arm toward the saddle but could only just touch the saddle horn. Every movement brought agonizing discomfort in his leg and ankle. He pushed against the horse with his right leg, but the weight of the tree trunk rested fully on the gelding’s hip.

The cold rain pelted him incessantly, yet he could feel himself sweating from the effort to free himself. His head pounded and his ears would not quit vibrating, and he still found it hard to breathe. The air smelt burnt and hurt his lungs.

Sam clenched his jaw at the pain and looked for his Kentucky rifle. If he could manage to fire it, he could signal the others. But the rifle lay on the ground just out of reach. He grabbed his pistol, although he realized they would probably not be able to hear it
through the storm. Sam pulled the trigger anyway, but the gun did not fire. The powder was too damp. It reminded him why he preferred his knife to the pistol. But even his knife would be of no help to him now.

The deluge pounded his eyes and sent water running into his nose, making him choke. Sam turned his face to the side, but his ear began to fill with the standing water all around him. He held his head up, but after a minute, he laid his head back down, too weak to continue to struggle. What felt like buckets of water, poured over his face. Rainwater continued to pool all around him, as the tree’s trunk and the horse’s body acted like a twisted bizarre dam, trapping the rising water. Much longer and he’d drown before anyone found him.

“Damn,” he swore, as consciousness began slipping away.

Stephen, help me
.

CHAPTER 20

S
tephen kept the group on the move through the terrible rainstorm, expecting Sam to come back any minute. But the minutes became interminable, with no sign of his brother. The nearly continuous lightning was the worst he had ever seen. A fiery bolt pierced violently through a black cloud up ahead, traveling perfectly vertical. It hit something close by as the explosive clap of the thunderbolt followed nearly instantly.

Stephen began to worry. “He should be back by now,” he yelled at William, who rode alongside him in case he needed help with the wagon and team.

John and Bear pulled their horses up beside William.

“We’ll scout ahead, check on Sam,” John shouted.

“Good,” Stephen said. “Hurry, something’s wrong.”

He watched the two start a slow trot through the downpour. Hopefully, they would keep a careful eye on the barely visible road, now covered in a brown river of liquefied mud. They would only be able to see a couple of horse lengths ahead of them.

Moments later, Bear returned. “Sam’s pinned under a tree in risin’ water,” he yelled. “Need rope and saws. Hurry!”

Stephen instantly tied the oxens’ reins, leapt off, and opened the supply box attached to the wagon’s side between the wheels. He grabbed the axe, saws, and the rope Edward had given them, and then gave them to Bear and William.

“Is he hurt bad?” Stephen asked.

“If he’s not, ‘twill be a miracle. His horse is dead,” Bear said.

“Jane, hold the team here until we get back. Keep your rifle loaded and dry and the children in the wagon,” he instructed. “If you need us, fire the rifle.”

They reached Sam and John as quickly as they could. “How bad is he?” Stephen yelled as he flew off George.

John held Sam’s head, doing his best to keep his eyes and nose out of the water. “He’s still breathing. Hurry—the water’s rising,” John pleaded.

Stephen grabbed his axe and the three ran to Sam’s side.

“He’s knocked out. It could be bad,” John said. “I can’t lift him any higher—his arm’s pinned. His left leg is under the horse—probably broken. It’s a heavy tree, but his horse took the brunt of it. We’ve got to get the weight off that leg before it cuts off the blood or he’ll lose it.”