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

  CHAPTER 14

  “That ill-bred man bought trouble just as soon as he called us chicken,” Bear said, as they rode back to camp. “It was an unfortunate choice of words. In fact, I canna think of a worse choice.”

  “He should have listened to Sam,” Stephen said.

  Sam ignored them.

  “Clearly, he should have been a bit more courteous,” Stephen added.

  “Aye. I bet he doesna make that mistake again,” Bear said, raising his bushy eyebrows. “His biggest mistake was pointin’ that rifle at you with Sam and his big knife anywhere around.”

  Stephen scratched his stomach. “I feel itchy. I swear those mongrels had lice or fleas.”

  “Aye, probably plenty of both,” Bear said. “Most dogs do.”

  Sam heard the two trying to suppress their mirth.

  Swallowing his chuckle, Stephen said, “We’ll need a good bath in the river later with some of Jane’s lye soap.”

  “D’ye think we can scrub that disagreeable look off of Sam’s face?” Bear asked. “Those quarrelsome fellas did not improve his disposition any.”

  He did feel surly and didn’t see the humor in the situation that Bear and Stephen obviously did. He stewed in silence, rubbing his sore jaw, the only noise coming from their saddle leather and the horses’ movements. After several minutes he said, “That’s not the end of this. It’s just the beginning. Men like that don’t turn the other cheek. We’ll fight them again. We’d best get ready.”

  Something about the hunter’s leader bothered Sam. It was more than the foul man’s rude and drunken behavior—it was something in his eyes…

  “Maybe that Mr. Marshall had the right idea moving to Louisiana,” Stephen said, interrupting Sam’s thoughts.

  “We’ve been travelin’ for months, we’re here a few days, and already ye’re ready to move on?” Bear asked.

  “So far I’m not much impressed with Boonesborough,” Stephen said. “Between their abundant and convoluted land laws and the kind of people living here, I’m not feeling particularly friendly towards the place.”

  “Kentucky is a hard place. Hard places bring out the best or the worst in men. That bunch is an example of the worst. They’ve been made savage by the wilderness,” Sam said.

  “Let’s see what happens at the Land Bank. Things could look different in the morn,” Bear said. “Maybe that’s why they call it ‘Land of Tomorrow’.”

  Sam glanced over at Bear, not appreciating Bear’s cavalier attitude nor his humor. Normally he would, but just now, he was in no mood for levity.

  They rode into camp and tied their horses as Jane, Catherine, and the others walked up.

  “How did it go with the land specula…? What happened? You’ve had trouble,” Jane said.

  Kelly and the children stood behind her.

  “Looks like Boonesborough is not very hospitable,” John said, still carrying his rifle.

  “They insulted our family,” Sam said, scowling as he loosened the cinch on Alex. “I do not insult others,” he said, and then glanced up, “unless they deserve it.”

  “This is a fine start. We’re not here a week and already you’re fighting. How many were there, four?” John asked.

  “No, six,” Bear corrected. “The same six bastards who gave us such a warm welcome on the other side of the Fort.”

  “It’s a miracle one of you wasn’t killed!” Catherine said, looking directly at Sam.

  He detected true concern in her voice and saw distress in her eyes. It felt strange having a woman be concerned about him. But it was somewhat comforting too.

  “One of us nearly was,” Bear said. “It didn’t get serious until their leader, a brute of a fellow, ugly as a hog and about as dirty as one, nearly made Stephen’s first week in Boonesborough his last.”

  Jane gasped. “How?” she sputtered.

  “When we started getting the better of them, their leader decided he needed his big buffalo rifle. But Sam made him drop it,” Bear said, smiling at Sam.

  “How?” Catherine asked, glancing from Bear to Sam and back again.

  “Divided the man’s arm nearly in two. Sam threw his knife nearly thirty feet across the fight right into the fellow’s arm, about here,” Bear said, pointing to the spot on his own arm. “The flea bag dropped his rifle and it discharged. Killed his own man.”

  “Mercy’s sake,” Jane said, appalled. “It could have been Stephen.”

  “Nay, not with Sam within striking distance,” Bear said. “And I had an eye on the wicked man too. I had me hand on this hatchet until I saw Sam releasing his blade.”

  “A man was killed?” William asked, looking worried.

  “We didn’t kill him,” Sam said simply.

  Catherine wanted to weep with relief that the fight did not result in getting Sam or the others hurt or killed, but there would be time to think about that later. For now, she needed to help Jane see to their wounds. “I’ll heat some water and get some bandages. Every one of them is bleeding in at least one spot or another,” she said.

  “Kelly get my medicine kit from the wagon,” Jane ordered. “John, please help get some food warmed before this storm that’s brewing puts out our fire.”

  “What happened to your face and your ear Bear?” Little John asked.

  “A couple of those buffalo hunters did na think they could win fightin’ fair, like a man, so they did what comes natural to an animal—bitin’ and clawin’. But the dogs know how real men fight now,” Bear said. “And I bet his nose looks a sight worse than me ear.”

  After Catherine and Jane got the four patched up, Sam and the others gathered around the cook fire and ate quickly, keeping an eye to the sky, while they discussed Mr. Wolf’s suggestion.

  “It makes sense,” John said. “I don’t see that we have another choice. We could build a permanent home for either William or I since both of us want to be close to town. We could make it big enough to hold all of us, until the rest of you get your land.”

  “Let’s see what happens at the Land Office before we decide. If it still makes sense, we’ll find out what Mr. Wolf wants for that place and go see it,” Stephen said. “But, I’m not expecting much. He’s out to make a quick profit at our expense.”

  “Mr. Wyllie, why are you always so suspicious of people?” Kelly asked. She sat next to William, listening to the conversation.

  “I am,” Stephen said, as though that was all the explanation needed.

  “With four older brothers he learned to be distrustful to survive,” Sam explained.

  “I can vouch for that,” Bear said. “Every day at least one of them, and sometimes all four, gave their youngest brother a hard time or played some prank on him. Made him ornery and wary of other’s motives. Their father used to say Stephen didn’t even trust the preacher.”

  “I didn’t. Still don’t,” Stephen said. “They're only human too.”

  “Bet that’s why Stephen befriended you so early on Bear,” William said. “You were so big we didn’t dare pick on Stephen when you were anywhere around.”

  “Still true,” Sam said.

  “Whenever Bear came into our house, he would give Mother a big hug. She always said, ‘Daniel you hug like a big bear.’ That’s when we started calling him Bear. The name fit him perfectly,” William told Kelly. “Every time Mother saw him coming we knew she was going to the flour to make a cake. As far as Mother was concerned, his surname wasn’t McKee, it was Wyllie.”

  “I loved that good woman,” Bear said.

  “So did I,” Sam added wistfully.

  As the first drops of rain kissed Catherine’s face, she saw a sad faraway look fill Sam’s eyes. She suspected that he was remembering their boyhood home as well as their beloved mother. Some time ago, Jane had explained to her that a massive mountain slide of rock and mud buried the stately Wyllie home and the vast majority of the family land, along with Sam Wyllie Senior, their mother, and sister. Sam not only lost his inheritance, in one day he lost thre
e of the most important people in his life.

  No wonder he had a hard time loving.

  A bolt of lightning, followed immediately by a loud clap of thunder, sent them all scurrying for cover. But as Catherine climbed into her wagon, wishing Sam would follow her inside, she looked back. Sam sat alone and still, letting the rain wash over him.

  Just before sunset, the rain stopped and soon afterwards, a rider came up the muddy road to their camp. “Heard you gentlemen had some trouble today,” the man said. He dismounted as they gathered around him. “I’m Constable Mitchell, currently the only law officer in Boonesborough. I must get your version of the incident.”

  They introduced themselves to Mitchell. A gangly young man of perhaps 20 years, he looked to Sam like his only experience at fighting might have been with his brothers and sisters. The boy was clearly nervous, but seemed determined to exercise all the authority he had and then some.

  As usual, Stephen spoke first and succinctly explained the incident.

  “That nearly matches their version. So, you started the fight by dismounting from your horses and advancing towards them?” Mitchell asked.

  “Only after considerable provocation,” Sam said.

  “And, Captain Wyllie, you threw your knife into Foley’s arm, causing him to drop the weapon and kill one of his own men, even though Foley had not fired his gun?” Mitchell stared wide-eyed at the knife sheathed at Sam’s waist.

  Sam gripped his weapon’s deer horn handle. “I don’t know what kind of a place this is, but back where we were raised a man didn’t wait till a ball did its damage before he defended himself or his family.” His hot tone reflected the ample annoyance he felt.

  Mitchell tore his eyes away from the knife and turned toward Bear. “And I understand that you, Sir, nearly strangled a man and then broke his nose,” Mitchell said, his voice nearly shaking.

  Bear towered over the constable who had to tilt his head back and look up to see Bear’s eyes.

  Sam felt his mouth curl in a half grin when Bear took a step forward and the young man quickly took a step back.

  “Sir, I’m rather fond of me ears and that son of a dog had some of mine for his supper. He’s lucky I did na kick him where he deserved, although I doubt there’s enough manhood there for it to have mattered,” Bear growled.

  Sam heard both William and Little John snicker.

  “My apologies ladies,” Bear said to the women before he continued. “Next time, I…”

  “Constable Mitchell,” William interrupted before Bear could finish. “I held the position of Sheriff in our home town in New Hampshire, and I assure you I understand your important responsibilities here. Speaking as a former officer of the law, I can tell you those bullies had it coming. They provoked a fight. My brothers were simply riding down the street when they grabbed Captain Wyllie’s horse wanting to buy it. He told them the horse was not for sale, but they acted as though that didn’t matter. They were impertinent, called my bothers cowards, and insulted our women for the second time. The first was when we arrived at the Fort. This time, their leader drew a rifle on Stephen intending to use it. Sam threw the knife defending our brother. You cannot blame him for that. We desire no further trouble with these men.”

  Sam’s shoulders tipped back. Whether they desired it or not, trouble was coming.

  Mitchell swallowed hard, and appeared to gather his courage, before he reluctantly continued. “Your former occupation Mr. Wyllie is irrelevant in this matter. As for the insult, the law does not provide justification for fighting because a man is insulted or because a horse is simply touched. Foley claims that he was just trying to buy the horse and that he picked up his weapon intending to leave the fight fearing that Stephen Wyllie was about to kill him. The man’s eyes are swollen shut and from the looks of him, it does look like someone tried to kill him. The doc is amputating the man’s hand, just above where the knife hit, right now.”

  “If I’d wanted to kill him, I would have,” Sam snarled.

  “Never…the…less,” the constable stammered, “Mr. Foley is willing to not press charges against Mr. McKee since his ear was damaged.”

  Bear snorted. “Press charges?” His bushy brows drew together in an affronted frown.

  “However, he wants you, Captain Wyllie, arrested for murder since your actions caused the death of his man, and I regret that I must do so.”

  Everyone stared at the constable in stunned disbelief.

  “No!” Catherine cried. Intense astonishment paled her face.

  “Mister Stephen Wyllie, you are also under arrest for assault and breach of the peace. The hunter also plans to sue for the loss of his hand. Knowing Mr. Foley, I hope you gentlemen brought a bundle of cash. I must ask you both to come to town with me.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Murder? The charge was absurd.

  The corner of his mouth twisted in annoyance, but Sam refused to give in to worry. He would figure a way out of this. But this whole mess could delay their acquiring land and getting settled in homes. That would not be good. Winter was just a few months off.

  He gave Catherine a sidelong glance. Her face had gone white and her mouth still hung open. Would she think him a quarrelsome bully because of this mess? People often thought of him as an intimidating tough warrior, but in truth, he considered his nature to be temperate and kind. He just didn’t tolerate bad people very well. He’d put up with them only to a point. Tolerating bad behavior just promoted more bad behavior.

  “Constable Mitchell, this is beyond absurd, surely you must know what kind of men those brutes are?” William said. “Pray tell, is this the first time they’ve caused trouble?”

  The constable ignored William. “Leave your weapons here,” he told Sam and Stephen.

  Stephen just laughed. “Hell no!”

  Sam did not say a word or move. Keeping cool and composed, he just looked at the constable, his eyes penetrating deep into Mitchell. Annoyed with the distinct note of censure in the young man’s voice, he wanted to shake the constable’s unearned confidence. Then he let his annoyance show, hardening his eyes and twisting his lips.

  “Lo…look Captain Wyllie, Sir, I…I’m only doing my duty here,” the young man stammered, his oily face shining in the campfire’s light. “This is nothing personal. The Circuit Judge, not me, will decide what actually happened between you, Foley, and his men. He should be in Boonesborough within a few days.”

  To Catherine’s surprise, Sam showed no reaction to the constable’s pronouncement. In fact, he seemed unnaturally calm. Then their eyes met and she felt a wave of self-assurance come from him. The man wasn’t worried. For God’s sake, he’d just been charged with murder!

  Catherine turned and watched the nervous constable warily study Sam.

  Sam gave Mitchell a cool appraisal and then she saw his eyes narrow and his mouth twist into a threat as he widened his stance and crossed his arms.

  The young man quickly glanced away, his confidence no match for the Captain’s aura of sheer menace.

  She could not believe this was happening. It all seemed so preposterous. How could a simple fight result in Sam and Stephen’s arrest?

  But a man had lost his life and another his hand. It wasn’t simple any more.

  Had all the suffering the Wyllie’s endured been for naught? Their long journey for nothing? Would their dreams vaporize in this nonsensical twist of events? Would Stephen miss his first son’s birth because he was in jail? It was inconceivable. Yet it was happening right before her disbelieving eyes.

  She heard a bird singing from the trees, the bright notes a stark contrast to the palatable tension in the damp air.

  She scrutinized Sam. His mouth was tight and grim and a muscle quivered on his check, but he still didn’t look worried. He appeared to be weighing his options. He stood tall and straight, his massive body rigid, his bearing conveying power.

  Why would fate put her and Sam together on this journey and then let this happen? He could be impri
soned—maybe even hung. The thought made her stomach lurch and her heart tighten in her chest.

  She wanted to go to him. Let him hold her, calm her rising panic. Even though he had never held her, she was sure his touch would be reassuring. To have him hold her would be both comforting and sensual. Right now, despite the tense situation or maybe because of it, she longed for both.

  But she held herself back. She drew a deep breath. Leave him alone. Don’t underestimate him. Sam is accustomed to dealing with misfortune.

  He’ll figure a way out of this.

  Sam did not move even a fraction of an inch. He wasn’t going anywhere. “Sir, I am a former decorated Captain in the Continental Army. On my honor, as a gentleman, we will not run and will await the Judge if you allow us to stay here at our camp, but I will not spend a week inside a damn cage like some trapped animal, particularly for some trumped-up crime.”

  As the constable took his time considering the idea, Sam felt his chest expand as he remembered receiving the prized Badge of Merit, created to reward soldiers for, “Singularly meritorious service, instances of unusual gallantry and extraordinary fidelity and faithful service.” General Washington personally designed the award, the figure of a heart on purple cloth. While he had served, Sam proudly wore it, as required, on his left breast. Someday, he would have to show Catherine the medal.

  When Sam returned his focus to the young man, the constable stood shifting from one mud-covered boot to the other and chewing on his bottom lip. Mitchell was probably dreading riding back to town with him and Stephen, much less keeping them a week. He was probably also dreading facing the hunter’s leader without Sam and Stephen in his custody.

  The constable glanced at Stephen who sent the obviously nervous young man another squinty-eyed look of cold anger. Stephen was clenching his jaw so tightly Sam thought it might crack.

  Mitchell’s resolve did crack. “All right, but I’ll have to ask you for a bond, payable in cash right now. Should you decide to flee, Mr. Foley will receive the money and a warrant will be issued for your arrest.” The constable seemed to gather his nerve and walked over to Sam. “You’ll need to give me your knife as evidence until this whole matter is resolved.”