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

  “Sir, there’s only one way I’d give you my knife, and trust me, you wouldn’t like it,” he barked.

  Constable Mitchell quickly said, “Perhaps we don’t need that piece of evidence after all.” He took several steps away from Sam, and his knife. “But be sure to bring it to your trial.”

  Stephen marched over to Mitchell, faced him. “I assume you will provide a receipt?”

  “Of course, Sir.” The constable borrowed ink and paper and quickly wrote the receipt while Sam and Stephen got the coins to pay the bond.

  “We wish you God’s speed keeping those thugs at bay,” William told the man as he left.

  After Mitchell left, John turned to face Sam. Ire burned in his brother’s eyes. “Now look where we are. We will probably lose the money we brought to buy land. Your combative nature and Stephen’s pride got us into this mess. Disputes do not have to be settled with violence!”

  “Now hold on…,” Bear started.

  “And you, you probably fought for the fun of it,” John said, raising his voice and pointing an accusing finger at Bear. “None of you are living as God wants you to.”

  “You sound like a self-righteous sanctimonious idiot,” Sam yelled. “You were not there and you have no right to wrongly accuse us.”

  “I wasn’t there, but I know what losing our land money will mean. We’re in trouble and you’re going to regret this fight for a long time to come,” John shouted. “This is trouble we didn’t need—we already had more than enough to deal with. We will be lucky to get any land, if Indians or storms don’t kill us first. Or, you’ll get us killed by provoking others with your belligerent behavior.”

  He could only glare at John. He did not want to say what he was thinking. Instead of making John a tougher and stronger man, the wilderness seemed to be taming him. And the wilderness was no place for the tame.

  “You could have walked away from those men,” John continued. “You can’t be acting like a bunch of ruffians and louts. We must set examples for others, rely on using our heads, not the might of our muscles.”

  “You let others fight our battles and then stand in smug judgment?” Sam asked with grim impatience.

  “I’ll fight any battle that needs fighting. But this one didn’t. It was pure vanity and foolish pride. Now we may lose our land before we even get it,” John yelled.

  “If anyone’s being foolish here, it’s you, John,” Stephen said, keeping his voice calm. “Keep it up and you will be fighting a battle—with me.”

  “Another battle. That’s just what we need,” John said contemptuously. “This is serious. Stephen, you will wind up in jail for Lord knows how long. Sam could even be hung. This situation is out of control.”

  “The only thing out of control is you,” Stephen swore.

  “Hung?” Martha wailed. “No! No!” She started sobbing loudly, which made Polly and Little John start crying too.

  Seeing the children upset tore at Sam’s heart. Forgetting his annoyance with John, he quickly stooped down to comfort Martha. “Uncle John is mistaken. He just doesn’t understand yet how things work here in the wilderness. No one is going to hang. I promise you that little ones.”

  Then he patted Little John’s head, stood, and turned to John again. Keeping the tone of his voice level and calm, he said, “John, you are succumbing to panic. The worst possible thing you can do in a situation like this. The only thing you are succeeding at is frightening the children.” He lowered his voice even more and shifted closer to John’s face. “If you intend to persist in censoring our behavior, I suggest you go stay in town. My patience has reached its limit.”

  Now, Little John wailed in earnest. The children had rarely seen the adults fight and Sam realized they didn’t know what to think. Even Kelly appeared on the verge of tears.

  Jane, however, just got mad, her face turning nearly as red as her hair. She seldom lost her temper, but once she did, it was good and lost. “For mercy’s sake stop this! All of you. You sound like a bunch of foolish schoolboys, arguing over who started the fight. You are tired—beyond tired, exhausted. You’re discouraged because it looks like getting land will be far more difficult than we planned. And you experienced a vicious fight that you didn’t ask for. But all this will soon be behind us. John, remember nothing is out of control that is under His control. Where is your faith? Your faith in the Almighty and your faith in your brothers? Can you really lose it that easily?”

  She turned from John to the others, her green eyes blazing. “Save your anger for our enemies. We must stick together like the family we are. This Foley man can’t hurt us unless we let him come between us. We agreed before we left to stick together no matter what and I will not let you forget it,” Jane bellowed. “Now act like you’re Wyllies, including you Bear, not one of those thugs.”

  No one spoke for a minute, except with their eyes. Among family, a lot can be said without uttering a word.

  “Please forgive me for interfering in a family matter, but Jane’s right,” Catherine said, lifting her chin and stepping forward. “You haven’t come all this way to let a few dirty buffalo hunters stop you from fulfilling your destinies. They may be able to bring down buffalo that can’t defend themselves, but, by God, they will not bring down this good family.”

  Sam arched an eyebrow at the vehemence he heard in her voice.

  “The law will protect us,” William said.

  Sam groaned. “To hell with the law. We’ve seen what the law looks like around here. We’ll protect ourselves,” he barked. “As John said, we’ll use our heads, and, if necessary, brute force. Whatever it takes to keep our family safe.”

  He could sense the steam escaping from John as he leaned against a nearby wagon wheel. John’s anger was cooling, but his brother’s concern was not. Worry still filled John’s downturned face and his voice. “My apologies to all of you,” John said. “Especially to you children. It was wrong of me to frighten you. I’m troubled that we’re off to such a bad start. I don’t want to see us lose our hard earned land money to a bunch of hooligans.” He picked up Little John, wiped away the boy’s tears and looked into his son’s eyes. “And I don’t want you Little John, or Martha and Polly, dragged into some feud that threatens your safety. I just want to keep you safe.”

  “We didn’t ask for this trouble, but we sure as hell will deal with it,” Sam swore. “Those men will not harm the children or anyone else. Nor will they ever see as much as a coin of our land money. You have my word on that. Before this feud is over, we may have a battle, but we beat them once, and we can do it again.”

  “And tomorrow morning we’ll be at the land office waiting for it to open. This will not stop us from doing what we came here to do, by God.” Stephen said.

  “Amen,” John said.

  “Amen!” Little John repeated, wrapping his little arm around his father’s shoulders.

  Lightening flashed across the now dark sky and then a clap of thunder boomed nearly overhead, as though God said “amen” as well.

  The storm had returned.

  CHAPTER 16

  The next morning, Sam waited outside the Land Office, along with Stephen and Bear. He and Bear leaned against the log building, patiently waiting for the office to open, while Stephen impatiently paced back and forth on the building’s wood plank porch.

  Sam took notice of one family of about twelve in number who arrived shortly after they did and also awaited the Commissioner. As the father walked up, he carried an ax and a rifle on his shoulders. The plump wife carried the rim of a spinning wheel in one hand and a baby in the other. Several little boys and girls, each with a bundle matching their size stood clustered together beside two poor horses, heavily loaded with the family’s necessities. A milk cow, with a bag of meal on her back, also waited with them. The family seemed not only patient, but cheerful, filled with the expectation of seeing happier days here in Kentucky. Sam hoped their desires would be more than fulfilled.

  Finally, Commissioner Simm
ons arrived. Thick-necked, potbellied, and nearly out of breath, Simmons welcomed them warmly, apologizing for keeping them waiting. Wiping beads of sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief, he said excitedly, “I’ve been listening to stories of your encounter with the buffalo hunters. The whole town is buzzing about it. You brave men are already local heroes.”

  Surprised, Sam glanced at Stephen and Bear, who also appeared taken aback. But none of them mentioned the pending charges against them.

  “You men did Boonesborough a favor yesterday. It would be an honor to help you,” he added. Addressing the large family, he said, “I’ll be with you good folks as soon as I finish with these gentlemen.” He unlocked his office door and motioned them inside.

  The bright early morning sun lit up the maps nailed to every rough log wall in Simmons’ dusty office.

  Sam began studying the maps, paying particular attention to the Filson Map of Kentucky, published only a few years before. As a mapmaker himself, he appreciated the fine work of John Filson, and the effort and personal sacrifices taken to create it. The popular map clearly showed the location of rivers and creeks as well as mountains and hills.

  “Much of the land we have for settlement in Kentucky was negotiated in the Hopewell and Holston treaties. Unfortunately, many of the treaty boundary lines remain unclear and are often disputed by the native tribes and fighting has continued on and off for the last seven or eight years. Let me show you what may be your best choices,” Simmons said, pointing to Filson’s map.

  Sam moved aside to give the others room to see the intricate map too.

  “The most recently developed area, with the least threat of Indian trouble, is about 75 miles west and south of here. Unless you go too far west where the Chickasaw lands begin and counties are not yet organized. Northeast is quite mountainous and the Shawnees still use it as hunting grounds. You’ll certainly want to stay away from them. The southeast is best for traders and trappers because of its access to the Cumberland Gap and the Wilderness Road,” he explained, “but the Cherokee still hunt the majority of the area and therefore the land is not available yet for patenting.”

  “We saw some lush grassland there on our way here,” Stephen said. “I wondered why that land looked as if it had not yet been claimed.”

  “In a word—Cherokees,” Simmons said.

  “Indians killed a whole flatboat of families—even the poor wee bairns,” Bear said, “not long after we crossed the Cumberland River.”

  “I heard about that unfortunate event,” Simmons said. “Before we go on, I need to explain something to you Captain. Earlier you said you would be making application for a Bounty Grant. The Bounty Grants for Revolutionary service are now only for men who served from Kentucky and Virginia. You will only be entitled to a regular land patent, the same as everyone else.”

  Sam stared at the Commissioner for several moments, then crossed his arms. “Show me the statute, Sir,” he ordered.

  Simmons turned to his cluttered desk, opened a drawer, and after several moments of searching, pulled the statute. He read it aloud to Sam, stammering over a few of the words.

  “Hell of a note,” Sam snarled when Simmons finished. “I didn’t just fight for New Hampshire. We fought for the whole country, including Virginia, of which this new state was formerly a large part.”

  “You did,” Simmons conceded, “but the General Assembly recently recognized that Kentucky would run out of land if too many veterans from other states made their claims here.”

  “Fine thing to tell a man after he’s made a thousand mile trip here,” Sam grumbled. “None of the newspaper notices mentioned this.”

  “Unfortunately, Sir, the land laws are confusing, in a constant state of flux, and poorly understood. This has led to many misunderstandings and armed conflicts. We established four courts to hear land disputes at Harrodstown, Louisville, Bryant’s Station, and here at Boonesborough. These courts have done much good, but the settlement of the state has been so rapid, we continue to exist in a state of chaotic confusion. Settlers have claimed and reclaimed, surveyed and resurveyed, patented and repatented scores of highly desirable tracts. Not only have numerous acrimonious disputes occurred, many are unfortunately resolved only with bloodshed. Countless are still unresolved.”

  “Hell,” Stephen said, expressing in one word his disappointment and frustration.

  Their troubles seemed to multiply with each new day, but Sam refused to succumb to apprehension.

  “Might I advise you gentlemen to take a look at Nelson County? It’s still quite rough, but prime land is still available there,” he suggested. “You’d travel there going due west to Harrodsburg, established in ’74 by James Harrod. The area is quite prosperous, with six gristmills in operation for the corn and other grains raised in the area. Harrod’s men constructed Fort Harrod west of Big Spring on the hill, to be safe from flooding. The fortress offers protection for settlers until they can get their own homes built. It’s one of the largest in Kentucky with more defenders and ammunition than Boonesborough or Logan’s Station. Harrodsburg is located in the bluegrass region and has three warm mineral springs. Settlers seem to thrive there.”

  Sam began to wonder if someone paid the man to steer new settlers in that direction.

  “Or you could try to get a grant south of the Green River. Until recently, no person could enter a survey within this great area except a soldier. As soon as Kentucky became a state, new legislation opened up the area south of the Green River to any persons possessed of a family and over twenty-one years of age. Such persons are entitled to not less than 100 acres and not more than 200 acres. But, you must be bona fide settlers living on the land and improving it for one year before you come into actual possession.”

  The Commissioner described both areas in detail, showing it to them on the map, and gave them a list of sites still available that might meet their needs and be reasonably safe from Indian attacks. “Be sure to mark your boundaries by chopping notches into witness trees, and file your papers as soon as possible,” Simmons said.

  They left with instructions for the patent process and a rough map to Nelson County, less than a week away, about 75 miles due west of Boonesborough on the waters of the Salt River. In addition to describing Harrodsburg, Commissioner Simmons told them about Bardstown, the town just beyond Harrodsburg. The seat of Justice for Nelson County, the well-established town was also the home of Cedar Creek Church, organized in 1781. In fact, he said at present the town boasted elegant homes, posh inns, and reputable learning institutions. Best of all, Simmons described the land around Bardstown as lush rolling verdant pastures, punctuated by stands of Oaks and Walnut trees.

  As they left Simmons’ office, Sam could tell Stephen was still worried and would likely remain anxious until he secured his acreage.

  “Sounds like we’re headed further west,” Sam said, trying his best to sound optimistic.

  “Sam, why were ye so disturbed about the Bounty Grant?” Bear asked. “Ye did na care about land when we started this trip.”

  “It’s the principal of the thing. Besides, a man can change what it is he cares about,” he said.

  “Looks like we’ll have to keep moving,” Stephen said.

  “As long as we do na fall out of the saddle, we’ll still get there,” Bear said.

  “That depends on how stout a horse you’re riding,” Stephen countered. “And if it gets hit by lightning.”

  Sam shuddered at the recollection of his near encounter with death from a lightning bolt that killed his horse on their trip here. “No one said this was going to be easy. The future belongs to those willing to go after it,” Sam said.

  “You’re right,” Stephen agreed.

  “Wait here for me a moment. I’m goin’ in this shop to buy some tobacco and a new whetstone for Catherine,” Bear said. “She needs one to sharpen her wee dagger.”

  Sam scowled as Bear turned and went into the general store, the Scotsman’s big body taking up the
entire entryway.

  “Speaking of Catherine, why did you suddenly turn cold towards her?” Stephen asked. “Every time she’s anywhere around, your face clouds with uneasiness.”

  Sam crossed his arms and frowned, surprised by Stephen’s question. He tried to manage a feeble answer, but all he could come up with was, “I don’t want to discuss the matter.”

  “If you weren’t so damn independent, you’d realize what a blind fool you’re being.”

  “I said, I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, louder this time.

  “You have a chance at happiness, Sam, don’t miss it.”

  “Damn it, Stephen, mind your own business.”

  “This is my business,” Stephen pressed.

  “How the hell do you figure that?”

  “Two reasons. I told her she was welcome to stay with us and you’re my brother.”

  “She stays with us only until she can find a home of her own.”

  “If you don’t make a move soon, Bear will,” Stephen said.

  Sam glowered at his brother. “If that’s what she wants, so be it.”

  “She scares you, doesn’t she?” Stephen asked. “You’ve fought the bloody British when you were outnumbered ten to one, you’ve fought swarms of natives with nothing but your knife between you and a gruesome death, and you’ve faced bears and mountain lions like they were dogs and house cats, but you can’t face her. She scares the hell out of you and you’re too stubborn to admit it.” Stephen stared at him, a haughty rebuke on his face.

  Scowling at his brother, he smoldered for a bit before responding. “All right, she scares me. I am not used to being scared. It’s something I don’t do well. You’re a fine one to condemn stubbornness. You’d take on the fires of hell with no more than a water bucket.”

  “And you’d lead the way,” Stephen retorted. “You realize she loves you? I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”