Frontier Highlander Vow of Love (American Wilderness Series Romance Book 4) Read online

  “Aye, I’ll be sure to put it exactly where yer lovely wife wants it placed. If not, she’ll na doubt make me do it again.”

  Bear heard Sam laughing as he trudged toward the new home they were putting the finishing touches on. The six-foot plank was a good four inches thick and for most men carrying the heavy mantel would be a job for two. But his shoulders and arms did not seem to mind the weight. He’d always been a strong man, but all the lifting and hauling he’d done helping Sam build the house and barn had made him even more so.

  Bear made his way to the home’s spacious parlor and carefully laid the beautiful piece of wood atop its supports.

  “A little to the right, Bear,” Catherine instructed. “No back an inch or so to the left. No, no, back a few hairs toward the right.”

  Bear turned his face toward Catherine. “A wee bit more?”

  “No, that’s perfect. It looks splendid!”

  He heard happiness in Catherine’s voice. She married Sam two years ago and, with each day that passed, their marriage reflected their contentment and shared joy even more.

  Watching them lately made him wonder about his own future. Was it time he found a bride for himself? But here in the middle of frontier Kentucky the only female he was likely to meet was one of Sam’s mares or a cow with four tits.

  He would have to leave Sam, Catherine, and Little John. He understood that. He also dreaded it. He’d always been close to Sam—they’d grown up together and were more alike than any of his other four adopted brothers. Actually, only three now. Little John’s father, John, had been brutally killed by buffalo hunters. He and Sam had seen John’s murder avenged, but the loss was still raw to them all.

  After John’s death, Sam adopted the lad and when he proposed to Catherine, made her understand that she would also be accepting Little John. Catherine readily agreed and the three seemed to quickly become a happy family. Watching the boy’s love for Catherine and Sam grow made Bear even more convinced that someday he wanted to start a family of his own.

  “It’s taken us more than a year, but I do believe we have finally finished Bear!” Catherine said.

  “Aye, it’s a fine home. One ye will enjoy for many years to come.”

  Catherine sat down in her rocker and let out a deep sigh. Bear could see that being with child continued to take a toll on her energy.

  “Are ye well?” he asked, concerned.

  “Oh, indeed. It’s perfectly normal for women with child to become tired.”

  Sam hurried in with his arms full of firewood. “I thought we would christen the new fireplace mantel with a roaring fire. What say you my beautiful bride?”

  “What a marvelous idea!” Catherine answered. “These fall mornings are getting cooler and my toes are cold.”

  “Your toes are always cold,” Sam said. He exchanged a smile with her then bent to his task of building the hearth fire. When Sam finished, he stood to admire the mantel. “That’s fine workmanship, Bear. It looks just right.”

  “It was a pleasure to make it for the two of ye.”

  “You and Sam—and Mister McGuffin, until he left to go live with William and Kelly—all worked so hard building this house,” Catherine said. “And, of course the housewright and craftsmen, too.”

  “Aye, McGuffin seemed beyond eager to get back. When he found out he was to be a grandfather, he danced and skipped around here with his saw and hammer in his hands for weeks,” Bear said.

  “But all your efforts were well worth it. I love my new home. It’s as grand as my English estate.”

  Bear and Sam, looked at each other. Both knew that was an exaggeration. Catherine was a wealthy woman, raised in Boston, from a noble English family. Her grandfather left his English estate, and a mansion called Brympton, to her. Sam had never seen it and neither had he but, from her descriptions, he could well imagine its grandeur.

  Sam deserved to be proud of what they’d built here. It was a fine, sturdy, and spacious two-story home, among the nicest built in frontier Kentucky. Bear saw a few grander homes, as they passed through Virginia and Tennessee, but none finer in Kentucky.

  They also constructed pens for horses and a large barn with ten stalls—five on each side. The stable would allow Sam to stall his prize stallions and best mares during the winter. The rest would take shelter in a sizeable shed.

  “It may not compare to Brympton, but I promise you, we will love living here with Little John and our other children,” Sam said, looking at Catherine with adoring eyes.

  Bear did not miss the spark that passed between the two. He longed for someone that would make him feel that way. It was definitely time for him to leave. “Sam, Catherine, I’ve decided somethin’.”

  Sam glanced up, his rugged face registering the seriousness in Bear’s tone.

  “I need to leave for a while. It’s time I found me a lass of me own,” Bear said. He could feel his cheeks flushing, but he stood a little straighter, certain this was what he needed to do.

  “Bear!” Catherine said. “I had no idea you were thinking of leaving.”

  “For some time now, I’ve been givin’ it considerable thought. I can see how much happiness ye’ve brought Sam, and the joy Little John has given ye both. I’d like a chance at the same.”

  Sam reached over and patted Bear on the back. “We wish you God’s speed and help in sending the right woman to your path.”

  Bear chuckled. “I’d rather He sent her into me arms!”

  “Indeed,” Sam agreed.

  “When do you plan to leave Bear?” Catherine asked.

  “Tomorrow,” Bear answered, “that is unless Sam has anythin’ else he needs help with.”

  “Bear, you’ve been more than generous with your time. We could find projects to work on together for the rest of our lives, and then some,” Sam said. “At some point, a person needs to stop thinking about work and start thinking about happiness. I believe your time for that way of thinking has come.”

  “I agree,” Catherine said. “You deserve all the happiness in the world, Bear. You’ve been the best brother a man could possibly be for both of us.”

  “You’ve risked your life fighting for us. You’ve worked day and night helping us. And you are not only my brother, you’re a loyal friend,” Sam said. “It won’t be the same around here without you.”

  “Without him?” Little John barged into the room, carrying several rocks in his dirty hands “Where you going Bear?”

  Bear knelt down to one knee so he could look into the seven-year-old’s blue eyes. “I’m goin’ to find me a bride, John.”

  “But you and I live here,” the boy protested. “What do you need a wife for?”

  “I know ye and I live here, and I’ll be back to see ye lad. I do na know how long I’ll be gone. Hopefully, the good Lord will put some wonderful lass right in my path and I will na have to look too long.”

  “Can I go with you?” Little John asked. “I know what lasses look like and I could help you find a pretty one.”

  Bear cleared his throat and smiled. “Well lad, that would be very nice, and I’m sure ye’d have a skillful eye for spotting a bonnie lass. But I need ye to stay here and help yer mum. Since she’s goin’ to have a wee brother or sister for ye soon, she may be needin’ a big brother like you to help her out.”

  Little John’s forehead wrinkled and he drew his dark brows together. “I hadn’t thought ‘bout that. I guess she might be needing me.”

  “Indeed, I will,” Catherine said. “You’ll be a big help.”

  “What have ye got there in yer hands?” Bear asked.

  “Some shiny rocks. Wanna see?”

  They heard a horse nicker. Bear stood and went with Sam to peek out the home’s wide entrance.

  A lone rider neared the homestead.

  Sam grabbed his rifle, leaning near the door and Bear did the same.

  “Hello the house,” the rider yelled. “I bear a message for Daniel MacKee.”

  Bear stepped down off
the porch, keeping a firm grip on his long rifle.

  “I’m Daniel MacKee. What message do ye bear, Sir?” Bear asked.

  “Sir, my name is Isaac Ambrose. Colonel Logan has asked that you return to St. Asaph’s. He needs to discuss an important matter with you.”

  “What matter?”

  “He did not share that with me, Sir. It’s been a long ride,” the man said rubbing his lower back. Can I ask for the favor of something to drink and the comfort of your home for an evening?”

  “Indeed you may,” Sam replied hospitably. “I’m Samuel Wyllie, recently relocated here with my wife Catherine. After you have seen to your horse, please join us inside. This is my son John,” Sam said, placing his big hands on Little John’s shoulders. “Little John, show the man to the stable and help him take care of his mount. Then bring him into the house.”

  “Wonder what this is all about,” Bear told Sam.

  “No telling. The colonel may have word of Indian trouble and is summoning all single men for militia duty at the Fort. Or it may have to do with the new government.”

  “I hope it’s the latter reason,” Bear said. “I’ve had enough of fightin’ the natives to last me a lifetime. I’m glad we seem to have finally entered a more peaceful time with ‘em.”

  “Indeed,” Sam agreed.

  “While I’m at the settlement, what supplies should I bring back?”

  “Bear, have you forgotten that you were planning to leave on the morrow and won’t be coming back for some time?”

  He shook his head, annoyed with himself. “Och, I did indeed. I’ll have to get used to the idea, I guess.”

  Little John brought Ambrose back to the house and Bear followed the man and Sam inside, wondering what Colonel Logan could possibly want with him. The colonel had founded the settlement at Fort Logan many years before and settlers now called the township St. Asaph’s—the named suggested by a Welshman in honor of the canonization of a Welsh monk.

  When they’d all settled inside by the fire, and Ambrose sipped on his coffee, Bear spoke up. “Well, I was plannin’ to leave in the mornin’ anyway so yer timin’ is ideal, Mister Ambrose.”

  “Ye can sleep in the nice quarters we built above the barn for our workers when we finally hire some,” Sam offered.

  “It’s considerably quieter there,” Catherine added with a side glance at Little John.

  “With Bear leaving, we’ll need to hire those workers soon,” Sam told Catherine. “I’ll have to hire three men to do the work Bear accomplished in a day.”

  “Perhaps Mister Ambrose could spread the word at the fort that we are looking for dependable workers,” Catherine suggested.

  “They should be single men with a strong back and references,” Sam added.

  “I will be pleased to do so,” Ambrose responded.

  “And with yer bairn coming, perhaps ye should consider hirin’ a cook too,” Bear suggested, lifting his eyebrows at Sam.

  “Oh that won’t be necessary just yet,” Catherine said quickly. “I love to cook. I’m learning more and more every day.”

  Bear glanced at Sam who grimaced slightly. Catherine couldn’t see Sam’s face from where she sat, but his brother clearly shared Bear’s poor opinion of Catherine’s cooking skills.

  “We’ll leave at first light,” Bear told Ambrose. “Sam, will ye keep Mister Ambrose’s company while I go pack up me things?”

  “Indeed, I’m anxious to hear about everything going on at Fort Logan these days,” Sam said. “What news do you have? And do you know anything of Fort Boonesborough? My brother William is sheriff there.”

  Bear waited until Ambrose said he had no news of Fort Boonesborough. Then he walked toward his room located on the other side of the house from Sam and Catherine’s quarters and next to Little John’s room. He glanced behind him to see Little John tagging along. He took the boy’s hand in his.

  When they reached Bear’s bedroom, Little John pouted his lips and his eyes watered. “I don’t want you to go, Bear.”

  “Ahh lad, I do na want to go. But I must. I’ll miss ye fiercely. But I promise I’ll visit soon and bring ye a fine surprise.”

  “A surprise?”

  “Aye.”

  “I like surprises. So do Martha and Polly.”

  “Then I will find a surprise for yer cousins as well.”

  He gave Little John an affectionate hug. He loved the boy dearly and it would sadden him to leave. Little John sat on the floor and watched him pack. It wouldn’t take long. His few things, mostly an assortment of various types of weapons and an extra buckskin shirt and leather breeches, would fit into one bag. He retrieved his hidden stash of coins—money he’d earned helping Sam raise and sell horses—and stashed it in the bag’s hidden pocket.

  Kentuckians prized horses, not only using them for transportation through the vast wilderness, but also for sources of farm power, hauling, and racing. He counted the funds. It would take all he’d earned to build a home of his own.

  Now all he needed was a bonnie lass who could put up with him.

  Bear knew that woman was out there. He just had to find her.

  Chapter 2

  Roanoke, Virginia, September 1799

  Artis started the new day with hope in her heart for the first time since she left her home in Scotland.

  She smiled as she brushed her hair and afterward tied it at the base of her neck. She splashed cool water on her face and removed the sleep from her eyes. As she dried off, she wondered what freedom would feel like.

  The last time she was free was the day she arrived in the colonies.

  But today she would complete the final day of her seven-year indentured servitude. Her mother’s coin had bought her an accommodating passage to the colonies on board the ship Ulysses, but upon arrival in Wilmington, North Carolina, she had no choice but to either sell her body or sell her labor. She would rather have jumped ship and drowned herself before selling herself into prostitution. That left her only one choice—becoming a servant. A slave really. Except, unlike slaves, indentured servants could see an end to their plight.

  Along with the others from the ship to be indentured, the ship Captain and several members of his crew took her to the auction taking place in the Cape Fear area known as the Argyll Colony, about an hour from Wilmington. She learned later that the Argyll Colony was named for the shire in western Scotland from which its first residents came. They were the first trickle of what grew into a virtual flood of Highland immigrants. Highland Scots, thought to be at least a third of the Argyll population, earned the bustling colony its nickname—Valley of the Scots.

  But she was not to remain there.

  The auction, run by a Wilmington company that specialized in selling indentured servants, drew numerous wealthy planters and merchants. She’d signed a contract with a Virginia plantation owner, named Morgan Roberts, whose face and manner seemed kinder to her than the others seeking to indenture servants that day. She sold her labor in exchange for room, board, and what they called freedom dues—what she would receive at the end of seven years. In her case, a land grant of fifty acres in the new state of Kentucky.

  That afternoon, she’d bid farewell to the few friends she’d made on the voyage, each of them following separate paths into bondage, scattered like autumn leaves in a hearty gale.

  Artis found the long voyage getting to the colonies difficult, but it was of little consequence to her whether she travelled three miles or three thousand. The loss was the same, the pain as great.

  Boarding a ship for a foreign shore was for some a new start to life, a grand adventure. But Artis saw it only as being forced to move from a land she loved all her life, a land where she had once lived with a loving mother and father and a large extended family. She’d been born and bred in the Highlands, held for centuries by generations of her ancestors, common folk who fought and, when necessary, died to hold their clan’s precious land.

  Now, her mother too had died for their land.


  Unprepared for the loss and the change in her life, she held on to the bitterness that chaffed against her heart like an iron shackle on delicate skin. A chafing caused by the indelible hatred in her memory for the factor named Steller and his ruthless oppression and extortion of the Highland people. He and the other sheep farmers would forever be minions of the devil in her mind.

  That bitterness and hatred often made Artis a spitfire when men neared her. Quick-tempered and sometimes highly excitable, she wanted nothing to do with men. Someday, her mother’s murder would be avenged. Until then, all she wanted was to be left alone.

  Even now, after seven long years, she could not erase the vivid image of her mother suffering a cruel death right before her eyes. She slapped the towel down on the worn table by her small bed and dressed quickly. The last piece of clothing she donned was her long tartan shawl, which she only wore on special occasions. She pinned it together with a very old family brooch, once belonging to her dear Uncle. He too had died because of Steller and his hard-hearted men.

  She hurried from the female servant’s quarters over to the landowner’s home and, being the first to arrive, a servant ushered her inside. She laid her hand upon the brooch, embellished with a fist tightly clutching a dagger pointed heavenward. The brooch also bore the clan motto—Manu Forti—with a strong hand.

  As she took the quill to sign her freedom papers, Artis glanced down at her own hands, calloused from the farm work she’d done day after day for seven years. Because she was tall for a woman and appeared well-built, Roberts had assigned her to work the fields and barn instead of inside the main house.

  At first, her duties caused painful blisters to form on her hands, particularly the hoeing she’d done, alongside the other servants and slaves, to the seemingly endless rows of tobacco and corn crops on the large western Virginia plantation. The farm owner used the corn crop to feed hogs and to distill whiskey and the tobacco crop brought him substantial income. The blisters finally turned to callouses and protected her hands from further damage.