New Frontier of Love (American Wilderness Series Romance Book 2) Read online

  NEW FRONTIER

  OF LOVE

  BOOK TWO

  AMERICAN WILDERNESS SERIES ROMANCE

  DOROTHY WILEY

  NEW FRONTIER OF LOVE

  Dorothy Wiley

  Copyright © 2014 Dorothy Wiley

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.

  To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the author.

  First Edition: 2014

  ISBN: 1497438640

  ISBN-13: 978-1497438644

  Cover design by Erin Dameron-Hill

  Author website www.dorothywiley.com

  New Frontier of Love is a fictional novel inspired by history, rather than a precise account of history. Except for historically prominent personages, the characters are fictional and names, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. Each book in the series can be read independently.

  For the sake of understanding, the author used language for her characters for the modern reader rather than strictly reflecting the far more formal speech and writing patterns of the 18th century.

  Dedication

  To my son Robert, whose courageous ancestors inspired this novel.

  Thanks for being the wonderful son and person you are.

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  Kentucky, Summer 1797

  Captain Sam Wyllie looked ahead, anxious to catch his first glimpse of the remote Fort. His back and his legs ached from months on the trail. Ignoring his fatigue, he kept a keen eye on the surrounding rugged forest and made himself sit up straighter in the saddle. As if complaining, the saddle leather creaked beneath his weight even more than normal. Even the saddle had had enough. It wouldn’t be long now. They were nearly there.

  Maybe here, at the edge of a vast wilderness, he could forget. He wanted a new life in a new place, away from the pain of his violent past. Surely, he could find it here—a thousand miles from his New Hampshire home. A place on the edge of the future—Kentucky.

  A new world for the brave.

  Their small group had been fortunate, at least for the last few days. Boone’s Trace, a branch of the Wilderness Road, leading to the Kentucky River, brought them, at long last, close to Fort Boonesborough. As they passed lush blue-green meadows, rising and falling hills, and ancient verdant forests, they saw no signs of native Indians on the last leg of their long journey. And lately, the weather chose to be mercifully mild. Perhaps God knew they had all endured enough. He and his brothers William, John, and adopted brother Bear, accompanied his youngest brother Stephen and his wife Jane, and their daughters, on the trip here. Along the way, misfortune brought first the widow Catherine and later the young woman Kelly into their group as well.

  Sometimes tragedy gives birth to new beginnings.

  He pressed his legs against Alex’s flanks, urging the big horse forward. The gelding picked up his trot and Sam led them all to the edge of the settlement.

  About a hundred yards from the Fort, he spotted a sizable tent set up under an old oak very close to the road. Six horses stood tied nearby. Parked in the tall weeds was a good-sized wagon holding numerous skins. Probably buffalo hides Sam thought. As they drew closer, he could see that they were indeed fresh buffalo skins. An enormous swarm of flies hovered over the reeking pile. Empty whiskey casks lay strewn about in the mud along with corn cobs, discarded rags, and other trash. He’d seen pig sties that looked neater and smelled less foul.

  “Whoever they are, they’re messy fellows,” Sam told Stephen.

  “If cleanliness is next to Godliness, then I’d say these fellows are closer to the devil,” Stephen agreed.

  A man, untying his leather breeches, emerged from the tent. The man looked up and saw Sam and his brothers. Then the hunter shifted bloodshot eyes to Catherine and Jane, each driving one of their two wagon teams. Shockingly, he left his filthy pants untied.

  “Ah, what do we have here? Lovely womenfolk arriving in Boonesborough,” he said in a lecherous tone. He gave Catherine, whose wagon was closer to the man, a greasy smile.

  The obnoxious man’s grating voice had an edge to it that put Sam’s warrior instinct instantly on alert. He sensed dirt on this man’s soul. And plenty on his body too.

  Sam stopped his horse and gave the lewd man a censuring stare through squinted eyes. “Did you wake up ill-mannered this morning or were you born insolent?”

  The bulky boorish man, with a very large rounded nose, dark eyes set deep in a puffy face, and tangled black hair, ignored him and the other men. But he continued to eye the women, a mix of lust and envy exposed on his face.

  “Keep your ugly eyes off my wife,” Stephen yelled, positioning his horse next to Jane’s wagon.

  “You’re the one parading them right in front of my grand home,” the man called back. “And they are a sight to awaken a man’s cock for damn sure.”

  Stephen reached for his whip and Bear pulled out his hatchet.

  “Stephen don’t!” Sam ordered in a voice of authority. “Bear, put it away.”

  The man’s head swung lazily back toward the tent. “Men, come out and take a gander at these two beauties.”

  Five other rough-looking men emerged from the tent, one after the other.

  Stephen’s hand remained on the whip, but he didn’t move his horse toward the man and Bear said, “Are ye sure Captain? It would give me great pleasure to take the man’s head off.”

  “I understand, but let’s not begin our time in Kentucky with a killing,” Sam said. “Unless we have no choice,” he amended, looking directly at the foul-mouthed man.

  Sam watched warily as the man’s five cronies, all well-armed, casually took seats on whiskey casks, seeming to wait for the show.

  “Aren’t those two sweet looking?” the man asked his men. “I like that black-haired one. She’ll be the best-looking woman in Boonesborough.”

  “I’m partial to the red-haired one. Look at those fiery green eyes,” another man said.

  Although he couldn’t see Jane from his vantage point, Sam could well imagine the scorching glare she was probably leveling on these men.

  “Bloody buggers!” Bear hissed the words out between his teeth. “Let me cut the impudent man’s tongue out of his filthy mouth.”

  “And look, there’s a young blonde just now poking her head out of that first wagon. I’d sure like to give he
r a poke,” the biggest man crowed.

  Sam wanted to throttle the man. He saw Kelly pale and start to shake. Terror, stark and vivid, flashed in the young woman’s big eyes. Kelly had been about to climb out the front of Catherine’s wagon to join her on the bench, but now stopped frozen with fear.

  William bristled and side-stepped his horse next to Kelly. Every muscle of his face spoke defiance. “Bastard,” William hissed at the man. “One more insult to these women and we’ll find some rope to hang the lot of you.”

  The leader didn’t move, but his five men all pulled weapons, brandishing pistols and knives.

  Kelly gasped, panting in fear.

  “Kelly, get back inside the wagon,” Sam instructed. “Don’t worry, we won’t let them hurt you.”

  Catherine put her hand on Kelly’s shoulder, urging her back in the wagon. “Get back inside the wagon now, Kelly.”

  After Kelly got under cover again, Sam pulled his horse closer to Catherine’s wagon and looked over at his brothers, all four were lined up next to the wagons and facing the six hunters. “Let this bunch of snakes crawl back into their den,” Sam urged, his voice taut with suppressed anger, all the while eyeing the coarse bunch of men. “The best way to not get snake bit is to move away from the snake.”

  Sam’s brother John immediately turned his mount toward Boonesborough, his young son Little John riding beside him. His other brothers remained where they were.

  “Ignore them, they’re just ill-bred ruffians,” Catherine told them. Then she fixed her gaze straight ahead and composed her features, although Sam could see the suppressed anger in the firm set of her jaw.

  Sam agreed with Catherine. When crossed his temper could be almost uncontrollable. But he had trained himself to carefully control his anger, unleashing it only when it served his purpose, usually at the height of battle.

  “I’m sorry you had to hear all that,” Sam told Catherine, loud enough for the brutes to hear.

  “I didn’t hear anything. There’s nothing that man could say that I would lower myself to hear,” Catherine said, glaring over her shoulder at the vulgar man.

  “She doesn’t sound sweet on you just yet Frank,” one of the hunters taunted.

  The raucous sounds of the men’s laughter filled the foul-smelling air between them.

  Sam gave each one of the men a withering stare, not taking his eyes off them until their laughter stopped. Then he said, “I am patient with stupidity but not when it is combined with poor manners. That just turns men into jackasses.” He turned back to Catherine. “My apologies.”

  “No need to apologize. They deserve worse,” Catherine said.

  With murky eyes, submerged in a face heavily lined more by alcohol than age, the menacing hunter, who seemed to be the leader of the disagreeable bunch, curled his lip and gave first Sam and then Catherine a look of utter disdain.

  The man took a few steps closer to her.

  Sam took a firm grip on his long knife.

  “Welcome to Boonesborough.” The hunter threw the words at her like rocks.

  Sam longed to unleash his blade, but his well-trained heart throttled his anger. He turned his mount and kept the horse at a steady walk leaving the buffalo hunters behind. But with each step his horse took away from the bullies, his fists clenched tighter. He glanced back. Keeping wary eyes on the hunters, his other brothers followed on their horses, flanking the two wagons carrying the women and girls.

  Their first encounter in Boonesborough nearly ended in disaster. But they had traveled far to get here and he wasn’t going to let the incident ruin their arrival. For now, he’d forget the crude men.

  He trotted his horse out in front of their group.

  His heartbeat quickened, as he took in his first glimpses of the Fort and the roughhewn town. The fortress’ blemished walls and bulwarks, blackened by fires and pitted by lead and arrows, called to the warrior in him. Sam knew that the blood of scores of pioneers wounded or killed by the British or Shawnee stained the Fort’s ramparts. Despite its battle scars, like an old soldier, the Fort seemed to stand proudly, having succeeded in keeping Boonesborough’s first settlers alive.

  Now, against the fortress’ sturdy fifteen-foot palisade, dozens of settlers completed daily chores or passed the time near lean-tos or crude tents made of hides or oiled cloth, trying to make do in a wilderness highly intolerant of the ill prepared or underprivileged.

  He watched dirty squealing children chase one another in the sunshine between the tents, finding joy among the somber adults. But the blank looks on many of their parents’ faces made him wonder how many wanted to return to where they had come from.

  He vowed that would never happen to him.

  From the Fort’s walls, Boonesborough expanded to the west on either side of a wide muddy main road.

  “It’s even bigger than I thought,” Stephen said, joining him. “I read that over the last ten years Boonesborough grew briskly. It now boasts more than a hundred and twenty houses and stores.”

  “It looks like even more to me,” Sam observed.

  “Agreed,” Stephen said as he settled his tricorne hat more snugly on his head. “That man back there is lucky to be alive. If it hadn’t been you asking, I would not have held myself back.”

  “The snake certainly tested my self-control. But we can’t let men like him drag us down. This town holds great potential for both fortune and trouble. Many of the men here, like that bunch, will have little regard for either divine or human authority.”

  “Some of them look like oversized coyotes,” Stephen said, looking around. He turned his horse. “I’m going back to Jane.”

  Sam thought that was a good idea. Protectively, he again positioned his horse closer to Catherine’s wagon, something he did only rarely because it caused her to smile at him. And before her smile, as warm as the summer sun, his defenses always seemed to melt away. It was a peculiar feeling and he still wasn’t sure why it happened. Or how to deal with it.

  Since the beautiful widow joined their group a few weeks back, he had often became ill-tempered as he tried to convince himself to stop thinking about her. He never wanted to have feelings for a woman again. But why did he have to keep telling himself that over and over?

  The worst part was that he didn’t know what he felt. So he brooded to himself, making every effort to avoid her. At least most of the time.

  Just talking couldn’t hurt, he told himself, and perhaps it would help calm his still prickling anger. He snugged Alex up close to Catherine’s wagon bench. “Kelly, are you okay?” he called into the wagon.

  “I’m all…right, Captain,” Kelly called out to him without sticking her head out of the wagon cover. “But I’ll stay in here for…a little while longer.”

  Sam could hear the smothered sobs in Kelly’s voice and it broke his heart. Those bastards had reawakened the misery that still haunted her. “It will take her a while to recover,” Sam said in a low voice.

  “It’s understandable, of course,” Catherine said.

  “And you, Catherine? Those were some nasty fellows back there.”

  When she lifted her eyes toward him, anger still flickered there. “As you know it’s not the first time I’ve encountered men of their sort. And I’m sure it won’t be the last.”

  Sam chuckled, admiring her pluck. He looked ahead and decided to change the subject to something more positive. “Well, at last, we are here Catherine. A new place to make your own destiny.”

  Catherine glanced over at him, keeping a tight grip on the reins and firm control of the horses pulling her wagon. The streets of Boonesborough were crowded with people, horses, and other wagons and she could only proceed slowly.

  “Yes, Captain. I remember what you told me about destiny. About the west being a place where people can make their own future. I never had a choice in the future my father and late husband created for me, as though I were a helpless child.”

  She was far from being either helpless or a child. He rem
embered when they first found her on the trail, shortly after she courageously killed one of the three thieves who murdered her husband and tried to attack her. The Wilderness Trail was the last place he expected to find a fine lady like Catherine. The woman’s breathtaking beauty had immediately stunned him. Her classically sculpted features and pearl-white skin made her blue eyes and dark brows dominate her face. Her high cheekbones, strong jaw line, and the strength in her voice gave her a proud, almost noble quality. That day, she had worn a stunning blue lace-trimmed gown that seemed incongruous on a woman driving a wagon in the wilderness. Even more unusual for a woman, she carried an impressive dagger attached to a belt around her narrow waist.

  Now, she wore a more practical black and tan striped cotton gown suitable for the hard trip they just completed. Yet the garment managed to show off the curves of her firm young body, which always smelt of flowers. A waft of her fragrance caught on the breeze and reached him. The alluring scent stirred his blood.

  Catherine’s hair, black as a moonless night, hung down her back to her waist in a thick braid and several windblown strands framed her face, now no longer as pale. Today, her skin nearly glowed with a healthy reddish pink from exposure to the sun these past weeks.

  He couldn’t remember ever seeing a more striking woman.

  The fact that he took notice of her beauty surprised him. For years, ever since that catastrophic day, he remained indifferent to all woman, no matter how beautiful. For some unexplainable reason, Catherine affected him differently. Perhaps it was the strength and stamina she exhibited or maybe it was the extraordinary dagger she always carried. Where did a woman get a blade like that and why did she always have it attached to her person? Perhaps for the same reason he carried his own unique knife.

  Nevertheless, it didn’t matter because he had no interest in her or any other woman. He studied the establishments and people of the busy frontier town with interest. But they didn’t hold his attention for long.

  He would talk to her just to be polite.

  “I hope you know I meant no disrespect to your father or departed husband, when I said you could determine your own destiny,” he said. “I wasn’t trying to dissuade you from asking for your father’s guidance. I just believe women should have the same opportunities as men to make their own choices and to make of their life whatever they will.”