Wilderness Trail of Love (American Wilderness Series Romance Book 1) (33 page)

He shook his head, trying to get the debris out of his eyes. The boy hung precariously off his side as he struggled desperately to maintain his grip on both the vine and Little John.

Large chucks of earth cascaded onto them and the improvised rope slid more than a foot.

He nearly lost his grip on the vine. The skin of his right palm began peeling away. He ignored the throbbing burn in his hand. His shoulder was pulling apart. He clenched his teeth against the growing pain, knowing that Little John’s life lay in the balance and maybe his too. If they fell now, they would both likely crack their heads against the rocks even before they hit bottom.

“Are you all right?” Sam shouted.

“Yes, but hurry.”

“I’ll get you out. I swear.”

“What happened?” Stephen yelled up, trying to distract himself from the extreme discomfort in his right arm. How much could his shoulder take before it did pull apart?

“This rotten tree collapsed. I nearly got dragged in.”

“Sam, you can do this!”

Sam only grunted.

It seemed like an eternity before Stephen felt the edge of the
cave’s opening against his shoulder.

Because a large section of the dirt at the opening had fallen into the cave, there was now enough room for both Stephen and Little John to pass through. With his left arm, he pushed Little John up onto solid ground, and then threw a leg over the opening.

Sam kept a tight grip until he was fully out.

Stephen knelt next to Little John as Sam collapsed on his back breathing rapidly.

“Is he… all right?” Sam asked, gasping for air as he wiped sweat off his face.

“I hope so. All I see wrong, besides scratches and bruises, is the arm. The bone didn’t break the skin. No lumps on his head.”

As he rubbed his sore shoulder, Stephen noticed Sam’s hands. His brother’s left fingers were nearly raw and large red patches covered both palms where the vine had scraped the skin away. Sam rolled his shoulders, but otherwise seemed to be okay.

“Get the arm set before he wakes up,” Sam said, regaining most of his breath.

Stephen gently manipulated the arm back into place while Sam cut a sturdy piece of bark out of a tree for a makeshift splint. Then Stephen used his own shirt to make a sling. Little John moaned during the procedure, but did not wake.

“Do you think we can get both the doe and Little John back?” he asked, wrapping his raw hand with part of his cravat, then gave the rest to Sam for his injured hands.

“If we take turns carrying Little John and we both drag the doe behind us, I think we can manage. We’ll do the skinning at camp. I’ll fetch her. You stay with the boy.”

Stephen looked down at Little John’s tear-stained dirty face.
Please God, let him be without further injury. We can’t lose another child. It would crush all of us
.

He choked back his emotions, the memory of his daughters still painful and fresh. He didn’t want John to ever feel the anguish of losing a child. It was a pain that, even when buried deep, would last forever.

CHAPTER 36

I
never imagined it would be this far. I feel like we must have ridden around the world twice by now. But Sam tells us we are just two-thirds of the way there. I am bone weary and ache for the feel and quiet of a real bed. It would be so nice to sleep again without the constant sound of crickets or coyotes or other creatures of the night. Never will I take my bed for granted again. Or Stephen’s attentions in our bed.

I dreamt of them last night. A dream so real it woke me with tears falling from my eyes. But these tears were different somehow. I wiped my wet cheeks, but couldn’t wipe away the strange feeling in my heart. In the dream, I looked into the wagon and there they were, Amy and baby Mary playing together. I called out to them and they glanced right at me and smiled. Beautiful, joyful smiles on innocent faces. It thrilled me to the center of my heart. But when I climbed inside the wagon, they were gone. I called out to them, but they did not come back. I yelled out to them, but they did not come back. I screamed after them, but they did not come back. But I could still see their smiles. And they seemed so full of life. I can’t wait to share what I know was a vision with Stephen
.

Jane put the journal away. Remember those big smiles she told herself. They were so happy. They just came to let me know that.

Jane decided she wanted Martha and Polly to learn every skill they could, especially those that would enable them to protect themselves and acquire food. One of their first lessons, fishing, was that very morning.

“That was the best trout I’ve ever eaten,” Jane declared, still picking the last tidbits of meat off the bones. “You girls are excellent fishermen and John a superb teacher.”

“Bear showed me how to clean them,” Polly said proudly.

“And I learned how to bait a hook—with a grasshopper!” Martha declared.

“And I’m so proud of both of you,” Jane said. She already knew Bear had shown her girls how to ready the fish for cooking based upon the fresh blotches on Polly’s dress, but said nothing. She figured a stain or two was a small price to pay for the skills they were learning. She ignored the dirty dress, focusing on her daughter’s happy face instead. Something in Polly’s face brought fresh pain to her insides. It was her daughter’s smile. She had seen the same smile in her dream. She closed her eyes to the hurt. Saw her daughters smiling again in her mind. They were happy, she reminded herself again. If she could just remember that, she believed it would help.

“May we fish again this evening Uncle John?” Martha asked.

“No Martha, as good as that fishing spot was, a storm is on its way. Those big clouds over there have been building all morning and they’re coming this way. From the looks of them, it could be quite a storm,” John said, pointing to the darkening thunderheads mushrooming on the horizon. “Besides, your father and Sam will
bring us something tasty to eat.”

“I hope they see the storm brewing too and head back before too long,” Jane said, as she and Kelly gathered up the breakfast dishes.

Catherine poured everyone another cup of coffee.

“Do na worry about them. The Captain’s the best weather predictor I know,” Bear said. “He can smell a storm comin’ a month in advance.”

“Oh Bear, you’re just exasperating,” Polly said.

“You mean exaggerating,” Jane corrected, giving Polly an affectionate hug.

“She was right the first time,” John said.

Everyone chuckled, except Polly who didn’t understand what she had said. Obviously annoyed they were laughing, she pinched her lips, stuck her jaw out, narrowed her eyes, and put her hands on her hips. When she did, she seemed so much like Stephen when he was aggravated, they all laughed even more. Polly had inherited not only her father’s dark coloring but his facial expressions as well.

Martha, however, looked like her, with green twinkling eyes, fair skin and untamable red curls. And as Martha grew, Jane could see more and more of her own personality reflected in her oldest daughter. She still couldn’t believe how bravely Martha had defied Bomazeen. If not for the distraction she provided, God knows how that day would have gone. She reached for her daughter and gave her a big hug.

“What was that for?” Martha asked.

“Because, my honey bunny, I love you so much,” Jane said, smiling. “And I’m so proud of you.”

“Why do you call me that?”

“Because you’re as sweet as honey and cute as a bunny.”

She shared a giggle with Martha.

“We’d best get the camp ready before those clouds decide to let loose,” William suggested.

Jane was used to getting wet. In the springtime, rain fell as often as the sun shined. But these clouds appeared more ominous than normal. The sky turned an eerie shade of blue-gray and faint flashes of heat lightning, still too far away for their thunder to be heard, lit the sky in a continuous light show. The flickering lightning was an early warning that serious thunderstorms were approaching.

The wind soon picked up out of the south causing ripples to scoot across the river’s surface. The branches on every tree swayed, dancing to the uneven rhythm of the wind. She suddenly wished Stephen were here.

William turned to Bear and John and told the two, “I’m glad we’re about to get a good downpour. You fellows smell like a couple of wild hogs.”

Bear and John exchanged annoyed glances, but she had to agree with William. They both could use a good bath in her opinion, but she was not about to get involved in their banter.

“I do na plan to stand out here in the weather so your sensitive nose will na be offended,” Bear said. “But I will challenge ye to a wrestlin’ match in this river after the storm.” River wrestling had become a favorite way for the men to get rid of road dust and let off steam. A lot more entertaining than simply bathing, they could ‘fight’ without being bruised or cut. So far, Bear was the acknowledged champion, although Stephen earned a close second.

“I’d as soon wrestle a real bear as you,” William laughed. “I’d come closer to beating one. I think it’s John’s turn to take your challenge.”

“Not unless Bear’s going to tie one arm behind his back. I saw the dunking you took last time,” John said.

“Well, I see ye know when ye’re outmatched,” Bear said. “If it would na offend your nose much, let’s move these wagons to higher ground and tie them down.”

The three men, assisted by Jane, Kelly and Catherine, worked for the better part of an hour, while the storm flashed brilliant veins of lightning through approaching clouds now circling them in every direction.

By the time they finished, the two wagons, relocated a safe distance from the riverbank, stood securely tied and staked. They were afraid to tie onto any trees for fear the tree would draw lightning. They had already seen what lightning could do to a tree.

When they finished, they tied down everything else, hobbled the horses, oxen, and mule; and made heavy rope halters for the bull and milk cow. They figured the heifers wouldn’t stray far from the bull so they left them untied. Kelly penned her chickens and William piled the saddles and tack on high ground up against a hefty boulder, and covered them with a thick layer of tree boughs. They wouldn’t stay completely dry, but at least they wouldn’t be totally out in the open or in standing water.

Bear stacked a good supply of wood under both wagons so they would have dry wood for the evening fire. After a bad storm, a good fire would be as welcome as a clearing sky.

“Time to say a prayer. We’ve done all we can do,” John said, looking up at the darkening sky.

“The way the sky looks, and the wind is picking up, I think we had better all say a prayer,” William added.

The first raindrops smacked the earth and the river.

“Dangerous storm,” Jane heard John shout to Bear, after the rain poured continually for what seemed like forever. Both men had taken cover under her wagon and had raised their voices to be heard over the heavy downpour. Confirming John’s description, hail started pummeling the ground.

“Aye,” Bear bellowed back, “we’re in for a rough one, but we’re na so bad off as our hunters are out there. I’m more than a wee bit worried about them.”

Because the men were hollering, Jane could hear them clearly. As a hunter, Bear spent many a storm out in the open, and understood far better than John or William what the three might be experiencing.

It worried her too. Storms like this created hazards hard to avoid—mud slides, falling trees, rising waters, and illness from exposure. And this hail would be difficult to endure for any length of time. She hoped it was short-lived.

A few feet away from Bear and John, Kelly huddled with William under Catherine’s wagon, parked right next to Jane’s. Ever since the wind had kicked up, she hadn’t left William’s side. Jane suspected that the only time she felt secure was when William was near.

“The horses are getting nervous,” William yelled over to them.

“They’re not the only ones,” John shouted back. “I’m worried about Little John.”

“I think we ought to go after them. They should be back by now,” Bear roared.

“I agree,” Jane shouted down as she reached for her cloak. “Bear, help me saddle my mare.”