Whispering Hills of Love (American Wilderness Series Romance Book 3) (25 page)

“Yes. She even gave a nice chunk of land to Stephen and Jane, so they won’t have to worry about filing a claim, which could take many months. Stephen has already nearly completed their new home. In fact, by now, it’s probably finished.”

“That’s wonderful news. Their new baby will have a new home.
Can we go visit?” she asked hopefully.

“Of course, perhaps in the springtime. But for now, I need to attend to my duties here.”

“Please say goodbye to Sam and Bear, and to my father, for me. I said my farewell to Papa after our wedding dinner, but I’d like you to tell him that I’ll miss him. Now that I have paper and ink, perhaps I should write him a note you can take with you. I’ll encourage him to stay strong and sober.”

“Splendid idea. Don’t let me leave without it.”

The puppy started licking her fingers. “Are you hungry boy?”

“Of course he’s hungry. He’s a puppy,” William said.

“What will I feed him?”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” William confessed. “Do I smell cornbread? What’s in the Dutch oven?”

“I made beans and cornbread,” she said, proud of herself.

“I can tell coming home to you every day is going to be delightful in so many ways,” he said, and tugged her to him, hugging her. “For now, he’ll just eat what we eat. When I get a chance, I’ll buy some game from Lucky McGintey.”

“How is the sweet old fellow?”

“His aim is still true. He brought a pack horse loaded with meat into town earlier today.”

“What do you think we should call this little boy?” Kelly asked, continuing to pet the pup.

“He’s yours so I’ll leave that up to you.”

“How about Riley?”

“Riley Wyllie. I like the sound of that,” William answered and kissed her. He leaned down to kiss the pup too, but Riley licked him on the nose.

She brought a hand up to stifle her giggles.

“He can’t hold his licker,” William said with a wide smile. “We’ll have to keep him away from the pub.” He threw back his head and chuckled richly.

His jest made her laugh as well. “Here, you take him for a minute and I’ll serve us up some food.”

“I’d better clear our table off. Let’s just set him down for a while,” William suggested. “He’s going to need something to chew on. All puppies like to chew on things.”

“I noticed an old leather strap by the smokehouse.”

“Were you out exploring today?”

“Yes, I found two graves on the rise behind us.”

“Probably two of the many relatives Boone lost while settling Kentucky,” William said.

“It made me think of my mother’s grave. I feel badly that I’ve left her behind.”

“We all leave love ones behind eventually. While I never met your mother, I’m sure she would want you to do what was best for you. I have no doubt she’d understand,” William said. “She’s not there anyway. She’s with the angels in heaven.”

“Of course you’re right. I’ll start thinking of her as being there instead of back home in Virginia.”

“Kelly, when you went walking, did you take the pistol I left for you with you?”

“No, I didn’t,” she confessed. “I forgot. I set out to just get some water, but couldn’t resist looking around for a while before I got started with my cleaning.”

“The place does look remarkably better. But promise me you will always keep that pistol handy. I’ll buy you a rifle too and a good long knife. And keep my ax inside with you too. Once Riley gets to be the big fellow he promises to be by those feet, he can alert you to danger. But until then, you’ll have to be especially careful.”

“I promise,” she said.

He took her hand and led her to their bed. “Now it’s time to thank you properly for all your hard work.”

“But it’s the middle of the day!”

“Indeed.”

CHAPTER 23

T
he weeks flew by and her days at the cabin seemed to Kelly more like a pleasant dream than anything else she could compare them to. Her puppy grew like a spring weed, each day getting taller and heavier, until finally she could no longer easily carry him in her arms. By the season’s first frost last week, he could even bark and growl like a grown-up dog. She grew more attached to Riley by the day and thought of him as her child. An exceedingly hairy child, his thick coat was a light golden color, much like William’s hair. Her constant companion, she sometimes felt like she had two shadows.

But he wasn’t her child. Her first child now grew inside of her. When she’d missed her monthly flow for the second month, she knew for a certainty. And joy filled her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She placed a hand on her belly wondering if their child would be a tall boy like William or a little girl with blonde hair like hers. She wanted to make a special dinner for William tonight and then tell him her wonderful news. After studying her new cookbook while she drank her morning coffee, she decided to make bread, a soup, sliced smoked ham with a mustard sauce, fried potatoes with garlic, and maybe William’s
favorite custard for desert.

It was frosty again this morning. Crystals on every tree and shrub glittered in the first rays of the sun and bespangled every object in their yard. Interlocking ice crystals hung from the branches and leaves of trees, and painted the grass blades white. Although she had never heard the term, William had called it a hoar frost, and said it wouldn’t last long.

With her new blue shawl tied tightly around her and her warmest socks and clothing on, she milked the cow and started gathering eggs. Just as she had done back at her old cabin, she had named her egg chickens after the first few books of the Old Testament. “Good morning Genesis! And how are you Exodus?” Leviticus, a soft chestnut in color, was her favorite chicken. Fuzzy feathers surrounded her head, like untidy hair, giving her an unsettling, but amusing appearance. She did not name the chickens she raised solely for their meat.

Finished with the cow and eggs, she made her regular morning trip to the creek, with Riley trailing beside her, his tail wagging enthusiastically. All of a sudden, Riley stopped, his tail frozen in mid wag. His eyes focused intently on something, his lifted nose pointed toward the forest. She peered into the woods trying to determine if it was a deer or perhaps a reckless rabbit that made its presence known. It was not unusual for Riley to take notice of other animals in his area, but he rarely barked. Or growled. But he did now. A low throaty rumble tumbled down his chest. The sound made the hairs on her neck stand up.

She slipped her hand into the deep sturdy pocket she’d sewn onto her apron to hold her pistol and gripped the handle. The feel of it in her hand was reassuring. Filling her bucket with her other hand, and keeping one eye on the tree line, she watched
Riley. His guard was definitely up. “What is it boy?”

In response, Riley barked just once. But the bark was serious, a definite warning. Something wasn’t right.

“All right. I understand. Let’s go back now, I’ll keep a watch out,” she said softly, her own sense of danger beginning to needle her.

As calmly as she could manage, she started back toward the cabin. But Riley didn’t follow. She looked back for him. His stance was rigid, menacing, and he hadn’t moved an inch. What was he doing? He wasn’t old enough yet to intimidate anything, except maybe a rabbit or squirrel.

“Riley, come boy,” she urged and kept walking, more briskly now. Nervously, she took a quick glance over her shoulder when he didn’t obey.

“Riley, come, now!” she yelled.

He caught up with her. But this time, his tail wasn’t wagging. He whined and nudged her hand with his cold nose. Could he smell something? He raced up to the porch, as if to encourage her to hurry. And she did.

Alarm erupted fully within her as she leapt onto the porch, some the water splashing on her boots. “Riley, inside.”

But, acting like a great brave watch-dog, Riley leapt off the porch and ran off, barking, toward the woods.

Her heart sank. But there was nothing she could do now.

She hurried inside, slamming and barring the door behind her. Immediately, she peered through one of the port-holes, but noticed nothing unusual. Best be ready though in case there really was trouble out there.

She grasped the rifle, opened the pan, filled it with powder, closed the pan, poured powder down the barrel, placed the ball in the barrel, drew the rammer, and rammed the powder and projectile.

The nagging in the back of her mind refused to be stilled. Something or someone was out there. It was early morning and William said he wouldn’t be back until late in the day. She struggled with the uncertainty in her mind. Should she saddle her mare and try to find William? No, she would have to risk exposing herself until she got the horse saddled. Should she wait on the porch where she could see her surroundings better? No, someone could sneak up behind the cabin. Should she just stay barred up inside until William returned? Yes, that was definitely the safest plan.

She heard the nicker of a horse and the answering soft, low, breathy whinny of Ginger. She peeked through the front port-hole hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever it might be. But spotted nothing. Unfamiliar sounds, though, seeped in to haunt her.

In quick succession, she peered first through the side portal, and finding nothing crossed the cabin and looked out the other side as well. Nothing. Then she went back to the front port-hole, and put her face to the hole.

Kelly flinched and sucked in a breath. She retreated a step and then another, her heart pounding.

An Indian’s dark eyes stared back at her. He gave her a narrowed glinting glance. “No Boone woman!” His tone was hostile. The rest of his words were in his native tongue. He wasn’t alone. Other footsteps resounded on her porch and she could hear Riley barking and growling at the intruders to his territory.

Fear gripped her, but she mustered her courage, raised the
rifle, and advanced toward the portal. This was her home and she would defend it!

The savage stepped back as she presented the long rifle through the opening. He quite openly studied her, and she him. His long sinewy arms gripped a tomahawk. His coarse hair hung straight, and the skin of his bare hairless chest was a reddish brown. He seemed impervious to the cold. And to fear.

It was the closest she’d ever been to a native and her heart thumped wildly in her chest.

He let out a fierce high-pitched cry, clearly intended to scare her.

She found the alarming sound exceedingly unnerving, and it sent shivers up and down her spine. But she wouldn’t frighten that easily. She would be safe as long as they didn’t set fire to the cabin.

She was tempted to just fire the rifle, but feared that killing one of the braves would cause the others to attack. Should she shoot anyway? The flintlock rifle held one shot. Then she would only have a second shot with the pistol. She would have to make both shots count and then quickly reload, before they could break down her door with their tomahawks.

She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. She trained the rifle’s sights on the brave’s chest. She didn’t want to kill him; she just wanted him to leave. But if she had to kill, she would.

He swiftly darted away, out of her line of sight.

Then she heard something on the side of the cabin. She instantly swiveled her head in that direction. Another Indian peered into her cabin from that porthole, his dark eyes animated and glimmering. A quick look at the other side of the cabin revealed the agitated face of yet another brave! Dear God, how
many of them were there?

She remembered what Captain Sam had said about how important it was to make Indians believe you are brave, even if you are scared witless. If you display fear, they are far more likely to attack. She put her face close to the portal, the rifle protruding well out in front of her, and ignored her rapidly beating heart. “Leave my cabin. Now!” she roared, making her words a command, spoken with as much authority as she could muster.

Then a dirty hand reached over from the side and grabbed for her rifle. Fingers tightened around the long barrel. Using all her strength, she struggled to hold on to it. The brave’s other hand gripped the rifle too and then both hands commenced pulling the rifle away from her. She could feel the precious weapon slipping away. “No!” she shouted, and fought to hold onto it. She put both of her legs up against the wall beneath the portal. Using her legs and weight for leverage, she wrestled the rifle back inside, but fell backwards in the process.

“You bloody beast. You’ll not take my rifle,” she shouted as she scampered up.

Kelly quickly traded her rifle for her already loaded pistol. She put its shorter barrel against the portal, but not beyond it. She’d learned her lesson.

She looked out again and her heart froze. A brave cruelly seized Riley by the neck and held him out at arm’s length. She’d heard that natives often ate dogs. The thought made her want to retch. A sweat broke out on her face. She couldn’t shoot the Indian without risking hitting Riley.

Her pup growled and wiggled trying to free himself from the Indian. Annoyed, the brave smacked Riley’s face with the back of his hand.

“You forest demon, leave my dog alone,” she bellowed. Powerless to stop him, her rage made her grind her teeth together.

Riley took the blow and then lips curled back, bared his teeth and growled ferociously.

At that, the Indian delivered a wallop to the dog’s side. Riley yelped in pain.

Kelly screamed. “You bastard!” she yelled. She stomped her foot in frustration. She desperately wanted to help Riley, but exposing herself would mean risking her baby’s life.

The despicable brave yanked out a knife and his expression grew even more malicious.

“Oh God. Oh God. No!” Now she wanted to bawl, but held a hand against her mouth, holding her horror in. She resisted the urge to throw open the door and race outside.

What should she do? She had to save Riley. Her nerves twitched madly. Her mind raced. Trade. Trade them something. Sam said Indians typically honor trades. But what? Her eyes darted around. Her new shawl? She grabbed it and put her face to the window. “Trade? Trade for dog?” She held the garment up to the port-hole for him to see and then pointed to Riley. “Trade?” Would they understand the word? She prayed they would.