Frontier Gift of Love (American Wilderness Series Romance Book 5) Read online

  FRONTIER GIFT

  OF LOVE

  Dedication

  To my dear daughter-in-law

  August Wiley

  one of the strongest women I know.

  Thank you for taking the journey of love with our family.

  FRONTIER GIFT

  OF LOVE

  BOOK FIVE

  AMERICAN WILDERNESS SERIES ROMANCE

  DOROTHY WILEY

  Frontier Gift of Love

  Dorothy Wiley

  Copyright © 2015 by Dorothy Wiley

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any form, printed or electronic, without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials, in violation of the author’s rights.

  To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the author via her website www.dorothywiley.com

  ISBN-10: 1518709168

  ISBN-13: 978-1518709166

  Cover design by Erin Dameron-Hill

  Frontier Gift 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, businesses, companies, 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.

  Other Titles by Dorothy Wiley

  WILDERNESS TRAIL OF LOVE

  NEW FRONTIER OF LOVE

  WHISPERING HILLS OF LOVE

  FRONTIER HIGHLANDER VOW OF LOVE

  If ever two were one, then surely we.

  If ever man were loved by wife, then thee;

  If ever wife was happy in a man,

  Compare with me, ye women, if you can.

  I prize thy love more than whole mines of gold

  Or all the riches that the East doth hold.

  My love is such that rivers cannot quench,

  Nor ought but love from thee, give recompense.

  Thy love is such I can no way repay,

  The heavens reward thee manifold I pray.

  Then while we live, in love let’s so persevere

  That when we live no more, we may live ever.

  Anne Bradstreet

  Circa 1641-1643

  First female writer in the British North American colonies to be published.

  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  Cumberland Falls Horse Farm, Kentucky,

  Early Monday, 19 December, 1799

  Sam Wyllie always faced life’s dangers head on—but this was different—now danger faced him head on.

  Deep in thought, he strode away from their bedroom, leaving Catherine to rest for a few minutes before he would check on her again. He wished the midwife would show up soon. However, the contrary woman wasn’t due to arrive for a few more hours. And their baby seemed anxious to make its arrival. Their first child wasn’t due for a couple of weeks, yet Catherine first mentioned a discomfort in her side a week or so ago. That’s when he sent word with one of his hands that the local midwife needed to come at once.

  She arrived that same day and after spending but a few minutes with his wife, announced that the ache was nothing to worry about, and then she left straightaway despite his protests.

  But the pain came back. Several times.

  What could be causing her to hurt in that upper right side? Was it related to the pregnancy or not? Catherine would wince when it happened and put her hand on her right rib cage. The dull ache would usually last for a few minutes and then ease. Sometimes it lingered for hours, as it did now.

  He exhaled sharply and a tight knot formed in his stomach. Worry would be the death of him before this baby arrived.

  He could endure anything as long as it wasn’t the death of his beloved Catherine. He needed her love more than anything in this world. Without it, he would surely die himself. His heart rose in protest at the thought, but his mind would not cease worrying.

  Childbirth always posed risks, especially on the frontier. Moreover, his wife’s labor might be even more dangerous. Catherine’s first pregnancy did not go well. Would this one be the same?

  He would fight the devil himself to hell and back to defend Catherine, but this was one danger from which he could not shield her. Gritting his jaw, he vowed he would try to protect her anyway.

  He’d heard Jane, his youngest brother’s wife, and other womenfolk talk about the terrible pains of childbirth—the sharp contractions that tightened the mother’s protruding abdomen and grew progressively worse. However, the pains Catherine experienced lately seemed different.

  He wished he could do more for her. The nearest doctor was at Fort Boonesborough. And then only every other week. Boonesborough was nearly a hundred miles to the north. He could reach it in two days, but he had no way of knowing whether the doc would be in town or gone for a week. And he didn’t want to leave Catherine and Little John alone all that time. Besides, doctors usually deferred to mid-wives when it came to birthing babies.

  Perhaps he was just being a jittery first-time father. Women gave birth all the time with no problems. He took a deep steadying breath and resolved to stay calm. At least for now.

  “Little John,” Sam said addressing his adopted son. “What are you reading?” The eight-year old lay sprawled out on the rug in front of their massive stone hearth in the spacious front room.

  “The letter from Uncle Bear.”

  “We already read that letter several times, son.”

  “I know, but every time I read it, I get happier and happier.”

  Sam sat down across from Little John on an oversized chair that accommodated his sizable frame. Excited was an understatement. “You’re excited about them coming for Christmas aren’t you?” The boy had talked about it nearly nonstop since his ranch manager picked the letter up along with their other supplies at Fort Logan a week ago.

  “Bear’s bringing his new wife Artis with him. I just knew he would find a wife. He says she’s a bonny lass and that I will like her more than I like apple pie.”

  That was saying a lot. Like Bear, the boy loved pies of all kinds, but especially apple. “I’m s
ure you will. Artis must be someone special for Bear to have found her and fallen in love so quickly.”

  “And Uncle William and Aunt Kelly and their little girl are all coming with Bear too! And, Bear says here,” Little John said, pointing to the words written in his uncle’s fine hand, “that he is bringing me three presents—one because he had to leave us to go find a wife, another for my last birthday, and one more for Christmas!”

  “Don’t blame you a bit for being excited. I know how you love presents,” Sam replied. For himself, he wished for only one Christmas gift—that his wife and their babe would be safe and well after childbirth.

  “The best present I ever got, in my whole life, was the rifle you gave me for my birthday.”

  Sam smiled, remembering when he received his own first rifle at the same age. A tough world forced boys to prepare for manhood much too early. Little John quickly learned how to shoot the undersized rifle quite well and was now capable of hunting small game on his own. He’d given the boy a little knife two years ago and Little John could now skin a rabbit almost as fast as he could.

  “If your Uncle Stephen and his family come too, we’ll have a sizeable family reunion,” Sam said. It made him even more thankful that he recently managed to hire a cook and a housekeeper, both of whom were unmarried and in need of employment and a roof over their heads. Their new home was just too large for Catherine to keep up with and have any time or energy left over for him and Little John. And he wanted her to enjoy spending time with the boy. She also needed time to be Little John’s primary tutor, and ensure that their son received an excellent education, until he was old enough to attend a private academy.

  Little John’s own mother had died after a difficult childbirth. Sam shook his head as he recalled the lovely young woman’s funeral and his brother John’s long-lasting grief. The gloomy gray shadows of worry invaded his mind once again. He hated those oppressive thoughts. They made it difficult to think clearly and made his heart beat uncomfortably.

  Focus on Little John, he told himself. After the boy also lost his father two years ago, the child needed plenty of love and attention. Sam swallowed the lump in his throat. He would never get over the loss of his brother in that horrific battle with the buffalo hunters. Although he and his other brothers finally defeated their enemy, it came at great cost.

  Trying to clear his head of the awful images, Sam closed his eyes and inhaled the savory aromas coming from the kitchen. That was another benefit of hiring the cook. Mrs. Wrigley’s meals certainly earned high marks from him. Since her arrival, he’d gained back almost all the weight he’d lost eating Catherine’s dreadful cooking for the last two years. Although Catherine was the love of his life, cooking was not one of her strengths.

  The cook stayed constantly busy in the kitchen, preparing hearty meals for the family, the housekeeper, and the four hired hands. Sam found the smell of the hearty stew simmering and fresh bread baking quite comforting. And as fond as the widowed cook was of Little John, there would likely be a delicious apple pie cooling on the kitchen countertop.

  “I can’t wait to see Martha and Polly again too!” Little John said, his big blue eyes peeking up through the blond hair that now hung a little too long on his forehead. Every day, he’s looking more like his father, Sam thought. He’ll be tall and lean too, like John was. And the young lad seemed to exhibit the same keen mind and strength of character.

  Always a bit of a loner himself, it surprised Sam that he couldn’t wait to see them all again either. He had to admit he was nearly as excited as Little John. Every time they saw Stephen and Jane’s two pretty girls they appeared taller, but the couple’s new son, Samuel, seemed to grow right before his eyes. Named in honor of the child’s grandfather Samuel, the boy was Stephen’s pride and joy. And Sam wanted to hear all about Stephen’s thriving herd of cattle.

  And seeing William and Kelly’s little girl, nearly two now, would be a special treat. When the three visited last spring, Catherine and he both thought Nicole was the prettiest little girl they’d ever laid eyes upon.

  But Sam was most excited about meeting the newest family member, Bear’s new wife, Artis. Like Bear, she’d grown up in Scotland. His adopted brother’s letter had hinted that sad events troubled the woman’s past, yet offered no further explanation. Whatever it was, he was certain Bear would have helped her through it. Bear’s heart was nearly as big as he was, and that was saying something.

  He missed Bear. Devoted to his entire family, his brother spent more than a year helping Sam build this house before leaving a few months ago in search of his own future. He glanced up at the mantel above the blazing and crackling fire. Bear’s talent with woodworking and exceptionally strong arms had built the stunning adornment for the large hearth.

  He hoped that later in the month, they could all gather around a warm fire in happiness to celebrate Christ’s birth and the safe arrival of his own child. Son or daughter, it would be the greatest gift he could ever imagine receiving. If only Catherine could give birth without difficulty.

  Too restless to sit, he stood and paced before the hearth, another worry grating against his mind. Would his family all arrive safely? No trip through the wilderness was without risk. And traveling in December could be perilous in itself. In spite of the dangers, he and his brothers always tried to gather together for the holidays. There was something about a Christmas gathering that made being with family special—as though a kind of magic filled the air that brought their hearts closer to one another. It was the one time of the year when they could put aside, if only for a little while, the harsh realities of life. Life on the frontier demanded constant vigilance. But at Christmas, they all seemed to feel a reprieve—if only for a few days.

  Little John glanced up. “Should I go read Bear’s letter to mother again too?”

  “No, let’s let her rest for now…” Sam stopped speaking at the sound of horses galloping. He peered out through the front window panes and felt Little John’s small hand rest against his back as the boy joined him and looked out as well.

  He didn’t recognize the three armed men riding toward the house. They were already too close. In the wilderness, men understood that they should not come near a man’s house until bid to do so. And never at a gallop. The polite thing to do was to call out, announce yourself, and ask permission to approach.

  He snatched up his heavy woolen coat, threw it on, and grabbed his loaded Kentucky rifle and pistols. As usual, his long knife hung from his belt.

  “Load your rifle,” he told Little John. “Then sneak out the back door and quietly warn Garvin and the other men that we have visitors—strangers. When you finish, come back inside through the back door, and wait here. You need to guard your mother.”

  “Yes, Pa.”

  Sam loved to hear the boy call him Pa. In truth, he considered Little John his son. He patted the boy’s shoulder and turned toward the door.

  Sam’s hand froze on the door handle when he heard one of the horseback men call out another name—a name from another time and another place—a name he hated.

  “Bloody Hand! Come out!”

  Chapter 1

  Catherine woke, her right hand still resting on the spot that pained her frequently. Thankfully, the annoying ache was no longer there.

  Lately, being with child made her so tired that by mid-morning she needed a short nap. But it was past time she got up. A lengthy list of projects required her attention. She arose from the bed and tidied it, brushed and styled her hair, and smoothed out her gown in front of her long mirror, thinking about all the things that needed doing. Catherine wanted to get ready for the arrival of all of their relatives for Christmas. She needed to plan meals with the cook and make the house as festive as possible.

  She also wanted to sew some baby clothes, such as they were. The poor darling would likely be the worst dressed child in Kentucky based on how the last few pieces turned out. Perhaps hiring a seamstress from the fort would be a good idea. She wou
ld not have her child looking less than grand. Grimacing as she picked up the baby bonnet she recently finished, she chuckled. There was no denying she lacked both sewing and cooking skills, but hoped she made up for it by how much she loved Sam. And Little John.

  Before setting out from Boston with her first husband to inspect his Kentucky land grant, she possessed few skills in basic homemaking. She had never even made a cup of coffee. In her comfortable upper-class home in Boston, domestic servants carried out most of the household duties.

  Completely untrained in the domestic arts, when she and Sam moved into their new house, she made a complete fool of herself. The first time she tried to mop a floor, she slipped and fell more times than she could count, ruining her gown and silk slippers, before Sam finally told her she had put way too much soap in the water. When she tried to wash clothes, she accidentally made the fire under the wash kettle too big and both the clothes and the kettle caught fire. But worst of all, she had offered to help Sam one day when he and Bear were building the barn. When she asked what needed to be done, he told her the garden he’d planted behind the house needed weeding. In her astonishingly ignorant state, she pulled up all the vegetables that had just sprouted. When Sam and Bear finished laughing, they had patiently replanted everything.

  Growing up in a house full of servants as she did, made it truly challenging for her here on the frontier, as she learned to do the many things needed to be a wife and mother. Living in Kentucky forced her to learn new skills to just survive—including using plants and herbs for medicine, shooting a pistol and a long rifle, and growing her own vegetables and fruit.

  But survive she did. Thrived even, and she had never been happier. The love she’d found with Sam was exactly what she needed to find happiness.

  Ever since their first chance meeting after her husband’s death on the Wilderness Trail, she’d been drawn to Sam. Initially, his tall muscled form, broad chest, and sun-bronzed face attracted her, but it was his enigmatic temperament that stirred something deep down that she never felt before. And his harsh masculinity, even his strong scarred jaw, and buckskin clothing had charmed her. He was so unlike the pompous dandies she’d known in Boston. His indigo blue eyes reflected the steel in his character. But behind his rugged warrior façade, she soon realized he possessed a kind heart and a keen well-educated mind.