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

  “The cravat should have several rows of lace to frame his ugly face,” William added, amusement flickering in his eyes.

  “Oh contraire, Monsieur. Bear’s face is most magnificent!”

  This was getting entirely out of hand. “Ye will make it out of plain white cloth,” Bear said firmly. “And only one wrap around the neck and one knot.” He gave William his best angry bear look.

  Monsieur Beaulieu removed a tape measure hanging from his neck and wrapped it around Bear’s waist. “Bear, mon ami, your waist is too trim for a man of your size.”

  “Not enough pie,” Bear replied. “Sam’s wife Catherine is na much of a cook. I guess because she always had cooks growin’ up.” He looked over at William. “I predict Sam will hire her a cook before he loses much more weight himself. Did I see a bakery on my way into town?”

  “Oui, Monsieur! And it has excellent pies.”

  “While Monsieur Beaulieu is taking your measurements, I’ll go check with the barber to be sure he’s there and give him time to get his razor sharp. He’ll need a keen edge on the blade to take off that beard,” William said. “Come to think of it, he’ll need to sharpen his scissors too. You have enough hair on that big head of yours for ten men.”

  Bear could only stare helplessly at the door as William exited.

  Chapter 6

  The horse trader named Burdette, bent over with a shovel in his hands, had his back to Artis. He scooped up a pile of manure and tossed it into a barrel as he cleaned out one of his stalls. Artis counted ten stalls in the livery and from the smell wafting through the air, it would be some time before he finished the unending chore. That particular task had not been much to her liking on the Robert’s plantation, but she enjoyed being around the horses and often took them out for exercise after she’d finished her other duties.

  She glanced around, giving the man time to notice her, while she looked over the stalled horses. Most of these likely belonged to someone in town. She would probably have to choose from the horses she saw standing in the large pen she’d passed. She’d spotted a bay mare there that appeared promising.

  Burdette finally noticed her. “Oh, hello Miss. I did not see you come in. Welcome. Are you looking to buy or stable a mount today?”

  The balding horse trader seemed friendly, smiling at her in an outgoing manner. His relaxed attitude seemed to be one of perpetual merriment. He was considerably shorter than she was and although a smaller middle-aged man, he looked as though he could handle himself when needed.

  “Aye. I am in need of purchasin’ a mount, Sir. Commissioner Simmons assured me that ye would sell me one at a fair price.”

  He set his shovel aside. “Indeed. And a woman of your beauty should have a beautiful horse.” He turned up his smile a notch further.

  Apparently, Burdette was capable of shoveling out more than manure.

  Artis followed him outside.

  “I’d recommend a mare for you. They are easier for a woman to handle. I have three for you to choose from—a dun, a spotted white, and a bay.”

  She didn’t bother to tell Burdette that she’d exercised several stallions on the plantation, including Roberts’ prized stud horse. But he was right, a mare would be easier to handle.

  “Which one has a level head?” Artis asked.

  “I’d say they all do,” the man answered, “but the calmest is the bay.”

  “I’ll na own a lazy horse.”

  “Oh she’s far from lazy. I suspect she’s one of the fastest mares in that pen. She’s just a sweet gal. And a pretty one too, like you. She’ll turn the stallions’ heads.” He laughed as if he’d sincerely amused himself.

  She managed a little chuckle. “May I take a closer look?”

  “I’ll bring her out.” Burdette grabbed a lead rope and approached the mare.

  Artis watched the horse carefully to see if she accepted the rope easily and followed Burdette willingly.

  “She’s got nice hips and a full chest,” he said, his eyes on Artis, as he led the mare forward.

  Artis wondered if the man was talking about the horse or her.

  “She also has excellent feet and sturdy legs. And she reins and stops well. Schooled by one of the area’s best horse trainers. He showed me what he taught her before I bought her. Would you like me to show you?” Burdette offered.

  Artis studied Burdette’s eyes. He seemed to be telling the truth. “Nay, that won’t be necessary. I can already tell she’s well trained.”

  She lifted her hand to the mare’s nose, letting the animal read her scent, then she gazed into the bay’s large brown eyes. She saw kindness, and just as important, intelligence reflected back at her. A smart horse would be far easier to train and ride.

  The bay’s body color, a reddish brown, glowed in the sun’s rays. And her black mane, tail, ear edges, and lower legs made the mare look showy. She ran her hand down the mare’s neck and looked her over thoroughly. As she ran her hand across the mare’s shoulder and chest, she could feel strength in the horse’s muscles. “She seems young. How old is she?”

  “Three or four.”

  Artis suspected that meant five or six, but the mare was still young at that age.

  “How much?”

  “Well, she’s an exceptional beauty, but for an exceptionally beautiful young woman like you….”

  Artis had put up with the man’s blarney long enough. “I do na want to hear ye flatter me. Just give me that fair price I was promised and be done with it!” She would not be duped by claptrap smooth talk or be taken advantage of by this or any other man.

  Burdette hastily named his price and Artis offered to meet his charge if he threw in a good saddle, bridle, and a small bag of oats. “All right, for a woman of your….”

  Artis put her hands upon her hips and narrowed her eyes at him.

  When he stopped himself and quickly grabbed a saddle, Artis was barely able to keep her amusement from showing on her face.

  While Burdette got the mare saddled, Artis stepped back into the stable and reached between her breasts for the handkerchief tucked into her stays. The square of cloth held the coins she’d received from Roberts. The sight of the pink handkerchief would forever remind her of her mother—her mum truly was a beautiful woman, inside and out. She swallowed her grief. Perhaps because of the way her mum had died, Artis thought she would never be able to think about her mother without feeling an acute sense of loss. Especially since her mother’s murderer probably became a wealthy sheep farmer by now living off the land he stole. When she thought about the despicable man—which occurred without fail every day, sometimes more than once—she was assailed by a terrible bitterness.

  She counted out the amount she needed and carefully tucked the rest away again.

  “What’ll you name her?” Burdette asked.

  “Beautiful.”

  Burdette threw back his head and a cackle of laughter burst out.

  Artis brought her hand up to stifle her giggle.

  Bear sat up, yanked the towel from around his neck, tossed it into his lap, and glared up at the skinny barber. “Och, man, yer takin’ my neck off with the beard,” he grumbled. “Can ye be a wee bit gentler?”

  “I’m sorry, Sir, it’s just that you have the thickest neck and beard I’ve ever had to shave. And reddest too, I might add.”

  “Well, do na send me to our Maker while yer at it!”

  “Calm down, Bear. You’ll make poor Mister Gerhardt nervous and a nervous barber with a well-honed blade is not a good mix,” William said, giving Gerhardt a smile and a wink.

  Bear sighed and leaned back again. He tried to make himself relax, but all he could think about was missing the chance to meet a bonnie Scottish lass. What if she left town? He’d never see her again! For some reason, the thought left him feeling an uneasy sense of losing something important. But how could he lose someone he’d never even met?

  William insisted on the shave occurring today because he said the skin underneath wo
uld be milkywhite and would need a few days to get some color before the Governor’s ball. He also suspected William didn’t want to be seen walking around town with a scruffy brother who looked like a barbarian.

  Since Bear couldn’t talk, William took the opportunity to tell him all about the issues the delegates would be discussing starting tomorrow morning. With the occasional comments added by the barber, he heard more than he ever wanted to know about prison reforms, public education, militia restructurings, business subsidies, and legislation favorable to the state's landowners. By the time the barber finished with the shave and the hair wash and cut that followed, Bear had a good understanding of what matters he and the others would need to address.

  He paid Gerhardt and gave him a generous tip to compensate for his outburst and the two left to return to William’s office.

  As soon as they entered the well-organized and surprisingly clean office, Bear asked, “Did Miss MacKay come by?”

  “No, Mister MacKee, she did not,” the deputy answered.

  He turned to William. “Perhaps she’s in trouble and needs our help.”

  “Bear, she was just going to the Land Office. How much trouble could she get in?”

  “She should have been back by now!” Inexplicably, worry filled him. How could he be troubled about someone he’d not even met yet? Could she have met another man? Were they getting to know one another right now over an ale or a meal? A strange feeling he didn’t recognize gripped him. Then he understood what it was—jealousy. How could he possibly be jealous?

  Confused, he wandered about the room, head bent in thought. He found it disturbing that a woman he knew nothing about could affect him so.

  “Would you feel better if we went and looked for her?” William asked, setting down the papers he’d been looking over.

  Bear glanced up, surprised at how relieved he was at the suggestion. “Aye, I think that is a fine idea.”

  The two walked out of the Fort and onto the street and swiftly headed toward the Commissioner’s office. When they arrived, they found the door locked, but noticed Simmons walking away.

  Bear hurried toward the commissioner as if it were a matter of some urgency and William rushed to keep up with him.

  “She concluded her business with me. She mentioned needing a horse, perhaps that’s where she is,” Simmons told them. “I swear, she was the most beautiful woman who ever walked into my office.” The commissioner let out a long sigh and walked away.

  “Let’s go see Burdette,” William suggested.

  They marched in unison to the livery and found Burdette feeding the stabled horses. Flies buzzed over several barrels of manure lined up outside.

  After they exchanged greetings, William asked, “Did a young woman come by here earlier to buy a mount?”

  “Yes, and what a beautiful woman she was. She didn’t give me her name, but she spoke with a lovely Scottish accent. It was music in my ears.”

  “Did the lass buy a horse?” Bear asked.

  “Yes, a fine bay mare. But she drove a hard bargain. Made me throw in a saddle, bridle, and feed. I didn’t have the heart to tell her no. She was just so beautiful…”

  “Enough of her beauty, Sir!” Bear snapped. The man was making him irritable again. “Now, where did she go?” He ripped out the words impatiently.

  William gave him a reproachful look.

  “I have no idea where she went,” Burdette said, looking baffled by the questioning. “I only know she was beautiful. Oh, and she named her mare Beautiful. Would be a fitting name, for her owner too,” the man said wistfully as he ambled away.

  Bear glared at William and scowled to keep himself from biting the horse trader’s head off.

  “The gun shop?” William suggested.

  “Aye!” he agreed and took off, taking long strides.

  But they had no luck there either. The shop owner said she had just left and seemed reluctant to say anymore.

  The woman was as elusive as a ghost. A ‘beautiful’ ghost. As everyone kept telling him.

  Chapter 7

  Artis had bargained with the owner of the gun shop until she got what she wanted—a fine flintlock pistol along with a shoulder bag that held her powder and lead.

  Leaning a bit too close to her, he’d shown her the weapon’s sights, and helped her load it. He said she would need to practice using the weapon and he could take her out back and give her some pointers. She politely declined.

  Once she was ready to pay for her purchases, she’d turned around and reached into her stays again for her coins. When he implied that she could “work” for the price in a suggestive tone, she’d nearly used her new weapon on the shop owner.

  She called him a few choice names in Gaelic and gave him a searing look, before tossing her coins on the counter, and leaving abruptly. She certainly didn’t need his help or want his attentions. Her annoyance increased when she found that the encounter had made her hands shake.

  Her purchases left little in the handkerchief that held her coins, but she decided to treat herself to a small meal before she set out to find her land. She found a shop that sold bread and cheese and bought a loaf, a little wedge of cheese, a hunk of ham, and an apple. After eating a bite or two, she rewrapped the food in the paper the store clerk gave her and tucked the apple, ham, and most of the loaf of bread into her linen bag and hung it from the horse’s saddle. At least she would have some food for the next couple of days if she ate sparingly.

  With an abundance of hope in her heart, she set off to find her new home.

  The awe-inspiring woods were thick and full of dazzling fall colors that cheered Artis’ soul. She recognized black walnut, cherry, maple and red and white oak trees, but didn’t recognize the many varieties of wildflowers, ferns, and vines. She would make a point to learn their names later. She loved the beauty of even the most common plants. For those who have eyes to see, and the heart to feel, the forest could be a magical place. Here in the deep still silence of the wilderness, she could feel nature’s beating heart just as clearly as her own.

  Perhaps because of that very silence, she abruptly felt so alone. She recognized it for what it was—loneliness. A weakness she refused to acknowledge. She’d felt it before and knew it would pass. She would ignore it once again and focus on what she had to be thankful for.

  Her heart swelled with the realization that she now owned land, a weapon, and a first-rate horse. It was a fine start to her new life. For the first time since her daydreaming days in Scotland, she wondered what else life had in store for her. The thought barely crossed her mind before another followed that surprised her. Would she meet someone here in Kentucky she could grow to love?

  She was anxious to put all the pieces for a happy life together. For the last seven years in servitude, circumstances placed her own life on hold. But now, she suddenly understood that she wanted what her mother and father experienced together. True love. Someone who would cherish her as her father had cherished her mother. Somebody she could depend on as her parents had done for each other. A man who would do anything to protect her in a world that was often cruel—especially to women.

  She realized she was setting a high standard—maybe impossibly high—but if she couldn’t have a man like that, she would have none at all.

  A nervous snort from her horse interrupted her musings. Beautiful had performed well so far, keeping up a steady and smooth canter, and Artis reached down to stroke the mare’s moist neck with her palm. She promised herself that she would take excellent care of the horse. Just as she was marveling at how calm her new mount was, Beautiful raised her head and side-stepped. Artis knew this signaled something the mare didn’t like and quickly glanced around, searching for the source of trouble.

  A bloodcurdling scream, which sounded like a woman, vibrated and echoed through the dense trees.

  Beautiful backed up a few steps and pranced nervously. Artis could barely keep the trembling mare under control.

  What was it? She�
��d never heard anything like it in her life. She’d loaded her pistol before she left and feeling vulnerable and threatened, she drew it from her belt. But controlling the mare with one hand was proving challenging. “Whoa girl, whoa now.”

  Whatever it was out there screamed again. But this time it sounded closer. Artis’ heart raced, it had to be an animal of some kind. But what? She’d heard that mountain lions roamed the dense forests of the wilderness and preyed on deer, elk, and sometimes the stock of farmers, particularly sheep, goats, and cattle.

  Could that be what this was? Oh God, please no.

  Should she turn the horse and race away? But she’d also heard from one of the settlers she’d traveled with that mountain lions can run faster than horses. It could spring on the mare’s hips or bite her hocks, and Artis would likely take a terrible fall. Worse, the ferocious animal would kill Beautiful or her.

  She could try to shoot it, but she’d probably miss, having never shot the weapon before. Nevertheless, she had to try. She located the sights and remembered what the store owner said about lining them up on her target. But where was the lion? She turned Beautiful around slowly in a tight circle and tried to listen for it. But she heard nothing. The cat must still be in a silent, hunting mode. Then she spotted it, crouched down in the brush, staring at her. Was it preparing to attack?

  The cat’s intense yellow eyes glowed with what appeared to be contempt. It glared directly at her, chilling her to her core.

  Her entire body tensed with fear and she could feel the mare quavering beneath her as well.

  It was, indeed, a mountain lion. And based on its immense size, she guessed it to be an adult male. The cat’s thick coat was a rich reddish brown color and the black mask that encircled its mouth made the animal look even more terrifying.

  The lion stayed low to the ground in the gloomy shadows of the brush. Its large long body remained motionless except for an enormous tail that twitched ever so slightly. Then, without warning, it did something Artis found hard to believe. It leapt at least ten feet up and onto a tree branch just above her.