Frontier Highlander Vow of Love (American Wilderness Series Romance Book 4) (19 page)

He suddenly wondered if she were a virgin. He’d just assumed she was. But having spent a sea voyage alone without an escort, and seven years as a plantation servant, it was entirely possible that she wasn’t. It didn’t matter to him. Artis was Artis. And the only thing that did concern him was her
future—not her past. But, he hoped, for her sake, that no man had ever forced her to his bed.

He thought about how stunningly beautiful she was earlier at the ball. Kelly must have spent the day fixing her hair that fancy way and the gold gown made her shine with the radiance of a new sun. She was the loveliest woman at the ball. And she’d waltzed into the room full of strangers with all the confidence of a high-born lady. How proud he was of her!

And she was pledged to him. He still found it hard to believe. Even though it was not official, they were married as far as he was concerned.

He gloried for a moment in his recollection of her pledge. Her words spoke to his heart and made him nothing short of jubilant. Especially when she said, ‘I promise I have loved and will love only ye.’ He hoped his pledge brought her happiness too. Judging from the passion she put into their kiss afterwards, his words must have pleased her. And she appeared to be thrilled with her gift. The luckenbooth would forever symbolize the unity and loyalty of their hearts.

Now he understood what Stephen, Sam, and William must have felt on their wedding days. He attended all three weddings and witnessed their joy. But it is one thing to see happy—it is quite another to experience it. He couldn’t stop smiling. In fact, his cheeks were growing sore from grinning all evening. Even now, he smiled as he remembered their wanton behavior in the stable. And dancing with Artis was so extraordinary. He’d never danced with so much joy in his life. He’d been left breathless, but with a lightness of limb and heart he’d never felt before.

He absolutely could not wait to see her again. His hands tingled at the thought of embracing her again. So much love filled his heart that his eyes watered with tears of joy.

He felt moisture running down his cheeks and scolded himself for being so emotional. Or was that rain? He stuck a hand out and when several drops landed in his palm, he realized that it was indeed raining. He’d been so lost in his blissful thoughts, he hadn’t even noticed.

Lightning cracked just above him and both he and Camel startled. The
boom of thunder that followed almost instantly did not make Camel any calmer. It fact, he’d never seen his trusty horse made so nervous by weather.

The light rain intensified quickly to a heavy deluge that poured from the sky.

Bear slowed Camel’s pace to be sure they did not slip in the thickening mud. When the wind coming from the north grew stronger, he pushed his tricorne down firmly on his head, hoping it would not blow away. He wished he’d brought his cloak, but when he had left for town right after noon, it had been so warm it never even occurred to him to bring it. The rain soon soaked through his jacket and into his shirt, making the linen fabric stick to the skin of his back.

He tried to judge where he was and how far ahead Whispering Hills was, but he’d been so lost in his thoughts, he had no idea how far along the road he was. He couldn’t be that far away. He’d soon be with Artis again. But their night camping in the woods on her land was no longer going to be possible. Maybe he would ask Kelly’s father to give his cabin to them for the evening. Perhaps Mister McGuffin would even continue to stay in the main house’s upstairs loft so he and Artis could have the cabin until he got their house built.

The torrential rain refused to let up and the air grew colder with each passing minute. And the northerly wind continually whipped pieces of bark, pine needles, and leaves at him and Camel.

He suspected William would decide to stay in town until the terrible storm blew through. Storms like this could cause low water crossings to flood faster than Bear could skin a rabbit. It always amazed him how normally tranquil streams and creeks could suddenly transform into raging torrents, spreading far from their banks, their depths bourgeoning tenfold or more.

Flood waters could also turn deadly in a flash.

Within minutes, Bear grew concerned. The downpour caused water to stand in the road, making it difficult to even see the road. Worse, the terrain
was gradually sloping downward. Sooner or later, he was going to encounter all this water running downward.

It was sooner. He found himself standing on the edge of a low water crossing or swiftly moving stream. He wasn’t sure which. In the extreme darkness and heavy rain, he couldn’t even see to the edge of the other side. If he tried to cross it without knowing its depth, the swiftly moving water could carry both him and Camel downstream into rocks or other treacherous debris. It wouldn’t be as bad in the daylight, but in the dark, he had no way to know what the water could hurl them into.

“Steady Camel, I’ll figure this out boy,” he said trying to soothe the horse. Camel was still acting particularly nervous. It was more than the storm. Something else was out there.

Then he remembered that it was near here where Artis encountered the mountain lion. This must be the stream that ran beside Artis’ property. It had been a brisk, but little, stream the day he’d met Artis. But it was far from that now.

Without warning, Camel decided it was time to make a move. The horse leapt into the moving waters. Bear jumped off the saddle, knowing Camel stood a much better chance of making it across without his heavy weight. The water pushed him into the panicky horse. Bear extended his legs against Camel’s side to keep from sliding underneath the gelding. Darkness and water enveloped him and he went under. He prayed he was not under Camel’s hooves. He pushed against the current, trying to stay oriented. When his feet touched bottom and he could tell which way was up, he used his big hands to pull his way through the muddy water until he burst through to the air and took a much needed breath.

Freezing, he began to shake. He had to get to the opposite bank soon. Artis was on the other side. Artis would help to warm him. He repeated that over and over, as he struggled through the water, swimming and then being pushed or tossed by the current, and then swimming again.

It seemed to take forever, but he soon felt the bank against his body and he scrambled up clawing into the mud until he found purchase. He
gripped what felt like a root and was able to get enough traction to haul himself out of the rushing water. He spit muck and dirt out of his mouth and crawled a few feet before he stopped, breathless and spent. He took a few deep breaths, and felt better, and mercifully, the heavy rain abruptly lessened.

He tried to stand, but his boots were full of water and heavy. He took them off, poured the water out, and put them back on. So much for the shine he had the cobbler put on his boots, he thought grimly. His new tricorne was long gone. But after wearing it all evening, he didn’t like the hat anyway. It was too tight on his big head.

His eyes widened and his breath caught as he remembered Artis’ pledge gift. He slapped his palm against his upper left chest. The clan crest was still there. He let out a long sigh of relief.

Then worry grabbed his mind again as he remembered Camel. The horse had been his loyal companion for more than a decade. “Camel!” he called, as he quickly stood up. But he heard nothing to indicate that the horse was out there.

But he did hear something else.

Another mountain lion. It must be the mate of the one he and Artis killed. The animal’s scream echoed through the darkness and the rain, chilling him further. He reached for his pistol, but it wasn’t there. It must have washed away. He’d given his other one to William so he could give it to Kelly to reload and he’d returned William’s pistol to him.

He reached for his knife that hung on top of his sporran. As always, his trusted blade was there. He’d almost left both behind, thinking they did not complement his new clothes. But the sporran was the only item he wore regularly that represented his Scottish heritage. In the end, he could not part with them. It had been a wise decision.

He tightened his grip on the knife, as best he could with wet hands. The best defense against a mountain lion was to make it think you were not easy prey.

He extended his arms above his head and yelled, “Come out ye bloody girl. Aye, I’m the one who killed yer mate. Let’s have this fight and be done with it. I’ll not have ye stalkin’ me half the damn night!”

Bear heard the sound of an animal walking through the trees. It wasn’t the cat. Thick pads kept a mountain lion’s tread so silent it was undetectable to human ears. He peered into the darkness, hoping it wasn’t a bear he’d heard. Och! That was all he needed now.

He was not a man to back down from either man or nature’s challenges, but this evening’s events were beginning to wear on his nerves.

He couldn’t see anything. Then to his great relief, he heard Camel’s familiar snort. The sound warmed his heart as nothing else could have. “If yer done with yer swim, get over here ye big ugly fellow.”

At the sound of Bear’s voice, Camel hurried over and stood next to him, nearly leaning into Bear’s chest. He stroked the gelding’s long neck and, as best he could in the darkness, checked him over. He appeared to be unharmed.

“Let’s go find Artis,” he told Camel, “my wife.”

Chapter 22

K
elly threw the smokehouse door open and stepped inside. She held her lantern high, lighting up the black interior walls. Disappointment filled her when she didn’t find Artis. She lowered the lantern, and it illuminated the floor, as she turned to leave. There she was, crumpled in a heap on the dirt next to the table, her face on the fur of an animal’s pelt.

Kelly rushed to Artis’ side and turned her over. Despite the warmth of the glowing coals, Artis’ skin felt icy and her beautiful face appeared strained and drained of color. Was she still alive? Her own heart beat furiously as she tried to find a pulse on Artis’ neck.

Thank God
. It was there, faint, but steady.

The side of the gold gown Artis wore was soaked with dark bloodstains. At least the bleeding looked like it had stopped. For that, she gave thanks.

“Artis, can you hear me? It’s Kelly. You are going to be all right. I’ll help you. Don’t leave us, please. Bear needs you. I need you.”

Artis did not respond and Kelly decided to go get her father to help. She opened the door to the smokehouse and started to step out, but rain was pouring down. No wonder it had been so dark as she had searched for Artis. She made a dash for the house, nearly slipping twice. By the time
she reached the front porch, her gown was soaked.

“Papa, I need your help. I found Artis in the smokehouse. She’s won’t wake up, but she has a pulse.”

“I’ll pull the wagon over there and we’ll load her in the back. But we need something to cover her with. It won’t do to get her wet.”

“How about my bear rug?”

“That’s exactly what we need. No rainwater will get through that big hide.” Her father had bought the fur in town and given it to her for a wedding present.

He helped Kelly grab the black rug from the floor in front of her bed and carry it to the door.

“Let me turn the wagon around and then you come running and hop up by me. Do you think you can carry the heavy fur?”

“I’ve had to move it several times, cleaning.”

Moving a little gingerly, her father pulled on a jacket and hurried out the door. It made her angry all over again to see evidence of the thrashing Steller gave her father.

Kelly grabbed one of William’s extra tricornes, twisted her damp hair up and tucked it inside, and nestled the hat snugly on her head. It would keep the rain off her face at least.

She watched a curtain of rainwater pour off the roof of the porch while he got the horse team facing the right way, then she darted out, carrying the bulky fur with some difficulty.

A spectacular bolt of lightning lit up the sky, illuminating the black clouds looming overhead. “This is going to be a bad one,” her father said as she climbed up to the seat.

He pulled the wagon close to the door of the smokehouse and Kelly and her father jumped down.

Within a few minutes, they were back inside the house. Kelly helped
her father lay Artis on the bed she and William shared. Her father barred the door and then took Artis’ boots off while Kelly blotted her face and long hair, the only part of Artis that got wet. She handed the towel to her father and he dried his own hair and face.

Kelly carefully removed the luckenbooth and set it aside. Then she began removing the filthy gown. With some difficulty, she was able to get it off Artis, while her father added logs to the hearth fire and heated some water.

“One of us will need to get that bullet out of her,” McGuffin said.

She halted, shocked. “Can’t we wait and get her to the doctor in town?”

He put his hand on her shoulder. “The way this storm sounds, the creeks will rise and will be impassible, near impossible to get a wagon through. I don’t think she’ll last through the night if we don’t get that lead out of her.”

“Have you ever removed a ball from a wound before?” she asked.

“Yes. I have.” He didn’t elaborate further and turned his face away.

Kelly wondered when her papa had to do such a thing. But now was not the time to discuss it.

“Surgery is perilous, but not as risky as letting the wound fester any more than it already has. It has to come out. Do you want me to do it, Kelly girl?”

“Oh, I wish Bear and William were here. It should be Bear’s decision, not mine. Where are they anyway? I pray to God that man chasing us didn’t catch up with them.”

The frightening thought hung in the air between them.

“Let’s not borrow any more trouble than we already have. I’d say we have more than enough as it is. They probably both took whoever it was to William’s jail and wisely decided to wait out the storm in town.”

“Are you sure you’re up to helping Artis? You look in pretty bad shape yourself.”

“I’m well enough, but she isn’t. Let’s get started.”