Wilderness Trail of Love (American Wilderness Series Romance Book 1) (32 page)

“We’ll get away from these open meadows and head up into those hills. There should be deer or wild pig up there,” Sam said over his shoulder.

By dawn, they climbed the lush green hills at a steady pace. The exercise felt good to Stephen’s saddle stiff legs. Little John kept up without too much difficulty, but started breathing harder when the climb got steeper.

“Need a lift Little John?” Stephen asked. “Jump up here on my back.”

“No Sir, thank you anyway,” Little John said without slowing.

Normally, the boy enjoyed riding on his uncles’ back. But Stephen suspected that his nephew wanted to carry his own weight today, to be a hunter, not a little boy.

Little John caught his breath while Stephen and Sam stopped to check the load of their Kentucky rifles.

Sam spoke to Little John quietly. “From here on, don’t talk. If you spot game, tap me on the back, and point to it. Walk only behind me, but not so close that branches snap back at you,” Sam instructed. “And watch where you step—avoid snakes and dry branches—or you’ll scare off anything worth shooting at.”

“Hunting sure has a lot of rules,” Little John said, “but I’ll do just what you said, Uncle Sam, especially the part about snakes.”

Little John gawked at Stephen’s rifle. Nearly five feet long, it was longer than the boy was tall.

“It goes on forever,” Little John said, his neck tilted back to see the end of the rifle. “The Captain’s knife is even scarier. It’s as long
as my arm. The biggest knife in the whole world.”

“It might be,” Sam said with a wink at Little John.

“This is the best day of my life. No question. Hunting with the two bravest men to ever live. I want to be just like you,” Little John declared.

Stephen didn’t know if he was one of the bravest men to ever live, but Sam surely was. They both had a lot they could teach the boy.

Sam waved them on. His brother moved so quietly for such a big man. He watched how Sam advanced. Somehow, before he took each step, Sam could see what lay on the path. At the same time, he took in everything around him in the woods too, while stepping around any dry twigs or branches.

The timber grew thick and dark here. Hardwoods covered in tangled vines and giant pines kept the light out. Stephen hoped they would pass through this oppressive darkness soon. It felt like being in a cave, a big cave full of shadows, and you knew you weren’t alone. He was sure strange and ferocious creatures lived in this dreary place.

Little John glanced behind him, probably wanting to be sure Stephen was close by. He was. If his nephew wanted to run back and jump in his arms, he wouldn’t blame the boy. It seemed like a forest without end as Sam wove his way through the gloom.

Finally, they passed into the light where rocky hills rose and fell like waves on a sea. They hiked until Stephen’s feet were sore from the rocks before Sam finally halted. When he did, Little John froze in his tracks. Stephen did too. The last thing he wanted to do was scare off whatever game Sam had spotted. He watched as Sam silently knelt down to balance his long rifle on one knee. Sunlight
reflected off the long shiny barrel as his brother lined up the sights.

He heard a bird singing nearby and then the hard click of the rifle’s hammer. He peered in the direction of Sam’s aim. A deer stood just inside the edge of another thick stand of trees. The animal stood frozen for a moment—an instant that would end its life. He saw the animal fall in the distance. He released his breath.

“Big doe, I think,” Sam said, looking back at him.

“Can I go and see?” Little John pleaded, his face and eyes bright with excitement.

“Okay. We’ll be right behind you. Be careful,” Stephen said, “don’t get too close till we know for sure it’s dead.”

Little John took off, running fast, rocks and pine needles crunching beneath him with each stride.

His nephew’s first hunt. He remembered his first hunt, and being equally excited.

A log lay in Little John’s path. The boy jumped it as Stephen turned back to Sam.

“Great shot Sam. We’ll chew on fresh meat tonight,” Stephen said, walking through the powder’s lingering smoke to stand next to his brother who was already reloading.

“And maybe sip on some of that good wine Edward sent,” Sam said with relish.

The prospect of a good meal made Stephen’s stomach growl. They had left without eating breakfast.

“I’ll find a branch to carry her back,” Sam said.

Where’s Little John?” he asked.

Sam glanced up. “He was just there.” He pointed towards the
doe.

He quickly scanned the wooded area, finding nothing. “He’s not now!” Stephen exclaimed and started to run.

Sam trailed just behind him, finishing reloading as he ran.

“Little John. John,” Stephen yelled repeatedly as he ran.

“Be quiet, we’ll see if we can hear him,” Sam said, stopping.

They both listened carefully for several long moments, but the woods stood silent, holding on to its secret.

“Little John, where are you?” Sam finally called out as loudly as he could and they both resumed running.

“Stephen, stop!” Sam yelled as he came to a halt.

He stopped abruptly. “What is it?”

“Little John didn’t just disappear. He must have fallen through a crevice. Be careful, I’m told Virginia is riddled with caverns.”

“What if Indians were watching us and grabbed him, or a bear, God forbid?” he asked, mortified by either possibility.

“We would have heard a bear and there are no Indians here,” Sam replied.

“How do you know?”

“I just do. Call it instinct. Call it a sixth sense. Grab a branch. Poke the ground in front of you before you take a step.”

They both found sturdy branches to use and proceeded towards the doe more cautiously, about six feet apart. They called for Little John as they moved slowly forward, pausing every few feet to listen for sounds of the boy. But Stephen heard nothing; the only sound in the dense expanse of timber surrounding them was the beating of his own worried heart. The forest here smelled of both rotting
and fresh wood, of both dead plants and blooming wildflowers, mingling together in a bittersweet potpourri of death and life.

“I’ve seen this kind of terrain before. A strong rain or a flood washes away the ground over a cavern and creates a natural trap. Pray it’s not too deep,” Sam said as they went forward.

“What if it is?”

Sam didn’t answer him.

CHAPTER 35

F
or several interminable minutes, the men searched without speaking, Stephen’s mind filling with dread. He repeatedly berated himself for letting something happen to Little John. Already, the familiar poison of guilt began to make him feel sick. His brother seemed to refuse to give into his alarm, maintaining a dark calmness. But Stephen’s mind began to fill with blinding panic. He fought to calm his nerves.

“Did you hear something?” Sam asked. They froze.

“It’s him. He’s crying,” Stephen answered. He moved cautiously towards the pitiful sound. “Little John,” he yelled as loudly as he could. He couldn’t tell exactly where the crying came from.

“We’re coming. Hang on boy,” Sam yelled.

The crying turned into loud sobs and they quickly found the opening in the earth on the other side of a fallen tree. Both men lay down on their stomachs to peer down. The opening was not large, but the sides of the hole seemed to go nearly straight down, pointing to complete blackness.

“I can’t see a damn thing. Can you?” Sam asked.

“No, it’s too dark down there. Little John, are you hurt?” He yelled into the narrow hole.

The sobbing slowed, but the boy didn’t speak.

Sam tried. “Little John, we’re both right here, just above you. You’re not alone. We’ll get you out. I promise.”

“Help…I fell,” Little John managed to whimper between sobs.

The two men could barely hear the boy.

Stephen asked again, “Are you injured? Yell, Little John, so we can hear you.”

“Yes, my arm…hurts…bad…real bad. It’s dark here. Get me out! Get me out!” the terrified child pleaded.

“Hang on. We’ll get you out. Don’t be scared Little John. Things like this happen to hunters. This makes you a real hunter now,” Sam said.

“What’ll we do? He sounds like he’s down there a good way. If one of us climbs down to get him, how do we get us out without a rope?”

Sam thought for a second. “Let’s see if any tree vines around here are strong enough to bear weight. While I look, see if you can figure out how long it needs to be.”

“Uncle Sam’s gone to find a strong vine to pull you out,” Stephen yelled down the hole. “Can you see me? Try to look up.”

After a moment, “A little bit.”

“Little John, how far away do I look? If you stacked horses on top of each other, how many horses would it take to reach me?”

“I don know. I don know.”

“Think hard Little John, how many would it take?” he pressed.

“Three big ones.”

He sounded weaker. They needed to get to the boy soon.

“Need at least 20 feet of vine,” Stephen yelled toward Sam, who continued to circle the bases of the nearby larger and older trees.

“None of these are stout enough to hold your weight without breaking,” Sam shouted. “And I don’t see any near long enough.”

“Keep looking,” he yelled.

Time lapsed slowly as Sam’s search broadened to trees further away, and Stephen’s dread mounted with each passing minute. The sky was growing darker as thick grey clouds rolled by. A storm was coming. They had to get Little John out soon or he might drown.

“This old elm has a vine we can use,” Sam finally yelled back.

Seconds later, he heard Sam’s hatchet severing the vine at the tree base. Then his brother yanked it, pulling with all his weight. The old vine had been growing up the huge trunk for years and refused to give up its embrace of the tree and its branches. Sam yanked harder. Still it didn’t budge. He watched as Sam began twisting the vine, tugging against it with every twist. He circled the tree, dragging the vine in both directions before he tried again. Sam ducked as the vine finally surrendered and fell heavily to the ground.

Sam ran towards Stephen, the vine trailing behind him. A good inch across, it would be strong enough, if it were long enough.

“You go down, you’re smaller,” Sam said. “Let’s test the length first. I’ll drop it down and see how close it gets to him. You’ll need to tie it around him and let me pull him out first.”

Sam leaned over the hole. “Little John, I’m going to lower this big vine now to see if it’s long enough to reach you.” He dropped
one end into the cave. “Can you see the end of it?” he yelled down.

When Little John didn’t answer, Stephen tried. “How close is it Little John?”

Still no answer. “He’s passed out, probably from the pain,” Sam said.

“I’m going down now!” he said.

“Shed everything you can, except your pistol. You’ll need it if there’s a varmint or snakes.”

Stephen quickly removed his boots, hat, coat and waistcoat, and his powder horn, and other equipment he had on his person.

Sam sat on the ground behind the log. He pushed his legs up against the fallen tree trunk. He would use it for leverage to allow him to use both his arms and his legs and let his hips bear most of the weight. Sam nodded for him to go ahead.

He grabbed the vine and headed down into the cavern feet first, balancing against the sides with his legs. As the vine scraped against the earth at the top of the hole, dirt rained down into the cave, probably dropping on Little John. The narrow opening was barely wide enough for a grown man to squeeze through, but more than enough to swallow a small boy. As he slowly descended, his eyes grew accustomed to the dim light in the dark confined space.

“You had better be right next to him, or this vine’s not going to be long enough,” Sam yelled.

“I am. I’m here,” Stephen called back as he reached the boy’s side. He let go of the vine when his toes touched ground to give Sam a break from his weight. “But the vine’s not long enough to tie it around Little John. Can you find a longer vine?”

“We don’t have time, the storm’s getting closer and it took too
long to find that one. I think I can pull you both out if you can get a good grip.”

As they suspected, Little John lay unconscious, his left arm protruding oddly at his side. He strained to see past his nephew. There was just enough light to see that they were both at the edge of a much deeper cavern. If he took even one step, he would be off the ledge.

Without warning, bats flew by him and he frantically flailed his arms around his head. He started to take a step away from the flapping swarm, but managed to stop himself just in time when he heard pieces of rock falling in front of him into the cavern’s depths. “Blind little bastards,” he swore.

Stephen took a deep breath after the bats flew up through the opening, carefully bent down, and gently picked Little John up. Then he reached up to grip the vine, dangling just above his shoulder. “I’ve got him, let me get a good grip,” he shouted. With his right arm, his strongest, he wrapped the vine securely around his forearm and hand. He wanted to wrap it around Little John too, but there wasn’t enough vine to spare. Instead, he balanced Little John on his left hip and arm. “All right, pull us up.”

He prayed Sam would be strong enough to pull them both up and, for once, he was glad he was the shortest of the five brothers and that Sam was both the tallest and strongest. Feeling the strain of their weight in his own right bicep, he hoped all his work clearing rocks off his land made his arm strong enough to maintain his grip on the makeshift rope until they made it to the opening.

He peered up. He could see daylight, a welcome sight in the oppressive dank atmosphere of the cave. He kept his gaze on the light as Sam slowly inched them up. Soon they were nearing the top.

Stephen tried to get a foothold where he could to take some of the weight off Sam. He worried about the vine breaking, but with Little John in his left arm and the vine in his right, he had no choice but to trust that it would hold together.

Then he felt the vine bounce and pieces of dirt and rotting wood began to fall. He heard Sam swear.