New Frontier of Love (American Wilderness Series Romance Book 2) (6 page)

“That’s what happened all right,” Lucky agreed. He cleared his throat and added, “After that, Chief Blackfish was so impressed he adopted Boone into the tribe, taking him to the river for a ceremony to ‘wash away’ his white blood. Daniel was so badly beaten up it washed away a lot of red blood too.”

Sam bent his head and studied his hands as he thought about the irony of that bizarre bathing ritual. “Red or white, a man’s blood runs the same way in a river.” Then he took a long drink of his ale.

“I’d like to see a lawyer run the gauntlet,” Lucky said.

William lifted his blond head and sat up straighter. “Courts of law are gauntlets of the mind. It takes more skill to maneuver through them than most can imagine.”

“I suppose you might be right about that,” Lucky admitted.

“You said Kentucky was a hunter’s paradise,” Stephen said. “Looks to me like a cattleman would find it to his liking.”

“What’s not mountains, or covered in forest so solid you can’t see daylight, is good land for grazing cattle. In fact, the Cherokee call Kentucky the Great Meadow. But most of the grass here gets turned into buffalo meat, not beef. Ain’t many here yet who have tried to raise up a herd. But the soil is fertile and I believe it will amply reward a man’s toil,” Lucky said. “The taste of a juicy beef steak is indeed a rare treat around here.”

Just how many names did the natives have for Kentucky? ‘Land of Tomorrow’, ‘The Dark and Bloody Ground’, and now the ‘Great
Meadow’. It seemed to Sam like even the Indians had a hard time figuring out this extraordinary place.

Lucky took a long swallow of his ale, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said, “Pasture land’s already gettin’ scarce. Speculators buy it—run the price up. And a hell of a lot has gone out to veterans of the Revolution as compensation for service. I never found much use for land myself. At the end of my life, I’ll just have an old worn out saddle and about a thousand good stories.”

“Indeed,” Sam said, chuckling. He admired Lucky and his way of life. But he was here to help his brothers. “Where do you suggest we try to settle?”

“You’ll find some land that will suit you,” Lucky said, “but getting it won’t be easy, and you’ve got to be willing to go off quite a ways from this settlement and, if needed, fight for it.”

Unprepared for what Lucky just said, Sam saw Stephen’s face cloud with uneasiness. Stephen was probably worried that he had brought Jane and his girls to even more danger, and he may have. They would certainly need to take great care when they selected and claimed their land.

He gave Stephen a look telling him to calm down. Stephen rolled his eyes and then leaned back in his chair.

Sam turned back to Lucky. “Are there any speculators that are honest, ones a man could trust?”

“An honest speculator? Now that’s something to make a man scratch his head.” Lucky sniggered as he thought for a moment before continuing. “That man that brought William in here—Tom Wolf. He just left before you three came in. He has a reputation for honesty, despite his name. Don’t have any idea how much he’s
selling land for though.”

“I’ll be talking to the gentleman at the Land Office tomorrow,” Sam said, “about a Bounty Grant for my service in the Revolution.” He turned toward Stephen. “We’ll find some good cattle land near my land grant.”

“The Land Office won’t open until the first of the month, but you should receive a larger and better grant because of your rank Captain. At least that’s what I’ve heard,” Lucky said.

“Hope you’re right,” Sam said, lighting his pipe. He inhaled deeply, savoring the sweet and pungent smell.

“I’m certainly disappointed that we have to wait several days,” Stephen grumbled.

“Nothin’ to be done about that,” Bear said. “It’ll give you a chance to rest up some.”

“I’m not interested in rest, I’m interested in land,” Stephen said, his expression darkening with worry.

“I would advise you men to be more than a little careful about the land you choose. Men fight each other here over land about as often as they fight the Indians or fight over women. Maybe more,” Lucky said. “And don’t set your homes up too close to the river. Come a big rain here one night. That water really got to running. Washed out a number of folks.”

Sam and Stephen exchanged glances. They would have thought of that, but it was a good reminder. He had read that the rivers here could crest far above their normal levels and their banks often spread beyond what people would expect.

“There’s good land out yonder, but you have to go get it, it ain’t coming to you,” Lucky said.

“Tell me, how far is yonder?” Sam asked, smiling at the man’s term.

“Can’t tell you. It’s just where you need a horse to get to it,” the older man replied.

On their way back to camp, Sam thought about Lucky and chuckled as he said, “That Lucky McGintey is a tough old fellow. He’s got a lot of bark on him.” He hoped they would meet again, maybe even become friends in the weeks ahead.

“I didn’t like what he had to say. It would be a hell of a note to have come this far and not be able to get the land we need,” Stephen said, nearly growling.

“It’s too soon to worry. Don’t borrow trouble,” William said. “In a few days we’ll find Mr. Wolf and seek his help. He told me where his office is, but said he would be gone for a few days visiting his son.”

After that, the men hardly spoke at all until they reached their camp.

Deep in thought, Sam let Stephen and William tell the others about their conversation with Lucky McGintey. For some reason, he couldn’t keep his eyes off Catherine as she listened intently to what his brothers said. What was she thinking? Was she considering finding her own land? Or was she going back to Boston? And why, for heaven’s sake, did the woman have to look so beautiful just sitting there? Her figure was curving and regal and her fiery eyes gleamed, full of life and warmth.

“If Daniel Boone’s having trouble keeping his land, it makes me wonder how we’ll fare,” John said, sounding worried.

Sam reluctantly forced himself to refocus his attention on the conversation.

“It is difficult to comprehend,” Stephen agreed. “The man is a legend.”

“Even legends sometimes struggle with life, and the law,” William said.

“We’ll get our land,” Sam pronounced, recognizing it sounded, even to him, more like a threat than a promise.

Catherine glanced over at him, her eyes sharp and assessing. She remained motionless for a moment, then hugged her arms to her.

As his eyes met hers, he saw a spark of some hidden emotion.

If he wasn’t mistaken, it was longing.

CHAPTER 5

S
am carefully wiped the long maple stock of his Kentucky rifle. Keeping the rifle clean helped the weapon to perform well, and that could mean the difference between life and death.

Like Sam, Stephen and William immediately fell in love with the weapon and both brothers sat next to him, cleaning their rifles as well. Before they left, he’d used most of his savings to purchase new Kentucky rifles, made by Pennsylvania gunsmiths, for each of the men and one for Jane as well. He taught them all to use the newly designed lighter rifles, and the exceedingly accurate weapons enabled them to protect themselves and to acquire a steady supply of food.

“What makes these weapons so accurate?” Stephen asked.

“First and foremost, the skill of the German gunsmiths in Pennsylvania. And, the long narrow barrel gives powder more time to burn, increasing the muzzle’s velocity and accuracy.”

“I know you can shoot the wings off a bee a hundred yards away, but I need more practice with this rifle,” Stephen told him.

“Preferably on four-legged creatures,” he said. “How about a
hunt tomorrow?”

“It might do us all good to just rest for a day or two. If Bear, William, and John will stay with the women and children, you and I can stretch our legs some. I feel like I’ve developed bow legs from sitting on George for so long,” Stephen said. “I never thought I could grow weary of being in the saddle, but I am beginning to think I am.”

“Indeed,” William agreed, “my ass feels like it’s turned to rock. Of course, I’ll stay with them. Where else am I going to go?”

Sam knew better than to ask William to come along. William only enjoyed hunting outlaws.

“You’re a pretty fair shot already Stephen, but do you think you'll ever be as good as Sam?” William asked.

“If I could be half the shot Sam is, I’d be happy,” Stephen said. “I saw him win a shooting contest once. They pounded nails into boards, and set them off a fair distance. The shooter who could hit the nail on the head would win. Our brother was the only shooter there who hit the nail on the head.”

“That sounds like our big brother,” William said, smiling at Sam.

Bear and the children were relaxing, stretched out underneath a massive Sycamore closer to the river.

“Bear, can you join us a minute?” Stephen yelled down to him.

Bear ambled back to the wagons and Stephen asked, “Sam and I are going hunting in the morning—stretch our legs some—will you stay with the ladies and children? I’m sure they’re safe here, but I’d feel better if you remained here to be certain they are.”

“Aye,” Bear answered, “I’ll be their guardian angel.”

Sam took in all six and a half feet of Bear from head to toe. “You don’t look much like a guardian angel to me.” Bear wasn’t just tall, he was big and broad. He had hands the size of a frying pan and with legs the size of tree trunks, his booted feet made a sound resembling thunder when he walked.

“Nae, I’m no Gabriel,” Bear said, shaking his big head and grinning.

“I know one pretty lady that may need protection
from
you,” William teased, looking at Bear with amusement in his eyes.

Sam realized he was obviously not the only one who had noticed Bear’s attempts to gain Catherine’s friendship. Quickly annoyed, he rubbed the back of his neck and pressed his lips together as he struggled to keep his feelings to himself.

His mood light, William continued to jest. “I think there just might be a wolf lurking around here.” He ambled over to the wagon, put up his cleaning materials, and retrieved a law book.

“Wolves,” Bear said, clearly choosing to ignore William’s implication, “are beasts to take seriously, as Stephen knows all too well. Did you know wolves have forty-two teeth, each strong enough to crush bone?”

Stephen unconsciously rubbed the scar on his neck. If not for his brother’s unfaltering courage, Stephen would be dead. He was lucky to be alive.

Bear was an expert wolf hunter, having slain many wolves that roamed too close to their New Hampshire town and mounting their heads on posts, the customary way to collect the bounty offered by landowners for their killing. “And they always hunt in packs of at least two,” Bear added, looking directly at Sam.

Sam boldly meet Bear’s gaze straight on. He found a perverse
pleasure in the subtle challenge.

“Wolves or not, while we’re gone,” Stephen said, “I would feel better with you here and standing watch. Will you keep your eyes open?”

“I’ll keep a careful watch over
all
of them, even wee William here,” Bear teased, patting William’s shoulder.

“There’s nothing wee about me where it counts,” William retorted.

Bear threw back his head and let out a great peal of laughter. Sam and Stephen both chuckled, while William raised a blonde brow and winked at Bear.

“I’ll be going back to the little ones now. Their spirits have been lifted some by our checkers game,” Bear said. “And Martha’s beat me twice. I need to even the score.”

“You might as well give up now,” Stephen said, “I can never beat her at that game.”

Sam found himself wondering whether leaving for a long hunt was such a good idea. His mind raced trying to determine if Bear was just taunting him. Or, would Bear use Sam’s absence as a chance to spend time with Catherine? And why was he even thinking about this? He couldn’t afford to be distracted by romantic notions or get caught up in some competition for a woman’s attention. It was foolish schoolboy jealousy and nothing more.

Besides, how could he be jealous? He had no interest in the woman. Well, maybe some interest if truth be told. But not now, not yet.

He slowly exhaled a deep breath, trying to force his thoughts back to their hunt—one of his favorite pastimes. He and Stephen
had hunted together since they were boys.

“Remember when Father used to take us out to hunt?” he asked Stephen. “You and I used to beg him to take us every time he went. You’d even tell him you knew where the deer grazed and, if he took you, you’d show him. He’d laugh, pat you on the back and bring you along.”

“But John and I only went when he forced us to. We didn’t enjoy it much. John was more content to study mathematics and architecture and I just wanted to practice on my fiddle or jest with mother and sister,” William confessed.

Sam looked over at John. As usual, he was absorbed in some thick book on architecture.

“That’s the truth. Father probably had all he could handle anyway taking the two of us. Sam tried to kill anything that moved, and I never wanted to get out of father’s shadow. I swear that man could walk fast, and he was Indian quiet,” Stephen recalled.

“He could track like one too. I think he could have trailed a butterfly flying over solid rock,” Sam said.

“And once he started a track, he kept after it till he found what he was looking for,” Stephen added.

“Wasn’t much give up in that old man was there,” William said.

“No there wasn’t,” Stephen agreed.

“Never knew him to give up on anything,” Sam added.

“Much like you,” Stephen said.

“We’ve many fond memories of that mountain,” Sam reminisced. “Strange, the mountain he loved so much killed him.”

“Don’t think it did. It was the heavy rain that caused the
mudslide,” Stephen said.

Stephen could never blame the land for their father’s death. “Maybe so,” Sam mused. “I know he loved his land. You learned that from him. He was the land and the land was him. He was aware of every tree, every high spot and low spot, everything there was to know about his place.”