Frontier Gift of Love (American Wilderness Series Romance Book 5) (28 page)

“Did all go well with the prisoners this time? Are they safely ensconced in Fort Harrod’s jail?”

“Absolutely. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow. For now, we have more pressing matters to discuss.”

“Pressing?”

“Ye’ll see,” Bear said, as though he were part of some conspiracy. “After ye have your drink.”

Sam accepted the cup from Bear. “I’ll see?”

“Aye,” Bear said with a wink. “Ask na more questions, Sam.”

“Drink yer brandy up,” Stephen said.

“To miracles,” William toasted.

“To miracles!” Sam said, believing it the best toast of his life.

Bear and William downed their brandy and then smiled at each other, looking pleased with themselves.

Sam’s brows drew together as he wondered what the two were up to. He brought the cup to his lips and gulped his drink down. The warmth of it strengthened him immediately. “Now?” he asked.

“Will you ladies kindly excuse us?” William asked, interrupting the animated conversation Kelly, Jane, and Artis were having.

The ladies all nodded and took seats near the fire while the men donned
their coats and hats and went outside.

“Where are we going?” Sam asked.

“You’ll see big brother,” William said, “just follow me.”

William led him, along with Bear and Stephen, into the barn. They proceeded through it to the attached quarters for Sam’s men. He thought the large room would be dark and cold since the men were on holiday, but it wasn’t. A nice fire crackled in the hearth. As they entered, he heard the strangest sound. A shrill yap. Then another. Two yaps at the same time. “Puppies?” he chuckled.

“Indeed. I got them at the fort,” William said, flashing his brilliant smile. “Both males.”

Sam bent and picked the wriggling one up. He’d always enjoyed the smell unique to puppies. It was right up there with the smell of horses and Mrs. Wrigley’s fresh baked bread. He took a deep whiff and then turned to William. “Why did you get these? You already have Riley.”

The other one stood there wagging its tail energetically. “One is for Artis,” Bear said, picking up the one with a large white spot on his chest and on the tips of his front paws. “’Tis her Christmas present. She had to leave her big black dog Wilson behind in Scotland. It broke her heart.”

“This pup should help heal her heart then. Look at the size of those paws and the length of those legs,” Stephen said, taking hold of one of the pup’s paws. “He’s going to be big, perhaps a hundred pounds or more. Oh dear.”

“What is it?” Sam asked.

“Now Martha and Polly will want to have one,” Stephen said, frowning. “One more mouth to feed.” Stephen was ever the pragmatist.

Sam laughed along with William and Bear.

“The other one is for Little John,” William said, “with your permission, of course.”

“That’s excellent,” Sam said. “I just decided yesterday, or was it the
day before? Time is all blurred now. Anyway, I just decided to get him a puppy, when I saw him playing with Riley, when you arrived. For Christmas morning, I was going to draw a picture of a dog and write a promise to get him one next time we went to a settlement.”

“Well, he’s yours to give Little John if you want him. They were litter mates and looked like they’d make fine dogs,” William said. “Getting them here was the only challenge. I found a bag big enough to hold them, put a blanket in the bottom, and cut two holes in the top.”

“You should give the pup to Little John,” Sam said.

“No, I bought him another present,” William said. “He’s yours.”

“Thank you,” Sam said. “How much do I owe you?”

“Not a thing. I’ll get it back in the abundant amounts of food and wine I plan to consume while I’m here.”

“I’ll still owe you plenty brother. You’ll make me look like a hero,” Sam said.

“You
are
a hero,” Stephen pointed out. “In more ways than one. If my memory serves, you even have a medal given to you by President Washington himself.”

“Speaking of Washington, I have some sad news to report,” William said. “A mail carrier from Virginia arrived at the fort while I was there. He brought dreadful news that’s spreading like wildfire.”

“What is it?” Sam asked, concerned.

“President Washington has died.”

Sam gasped and his mouth fell open. The country had lost its finest hero.

“How?” Bear asked.

“The rider gave us a few details, but I have no idea how accurate they are. He said Washington caught a chill and fell ill. Evidently, he spent a long day on horseback in the frigid rain and snow supervising operations on his estate. Late for dinner and known for his punctuality, Washington
insisted on remaining in his damp clothes. The next day, he grew gravely ill.”

Sam squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “When did he die?

“The fourteenth of December, nine days ago,” William answered.

A heavy feeling in his chest, Sam sat the puppy back on the floor. “He wasn’t that old. Mid-sixties, if I remember his age correctly.”

“A tremendous loss for our country,” Stephen said.

“It is a great loss,” Sam agreed, “because he was truly a great man. I’ve never served or fought with better. When he summoned us—all of us battle-weary and exhausted to a man—we could only respond to his voice with veneration and love. Many times, we were starving, frozen, and poorly clothed, and it was simply the sight of him that kept us all going.”

“’Tis clear he meant a lot to ye,” Bear said.

“Yes, he did indeed.” Picking up the pup again, Sam swallowed his emotions. There would be time to grieve the death of Washington later. For now, he wanted to enjoy life with those he loved. “Which one is Artis’ pup, Bear?”

“I’ll keep this one for Artis,” Bear said, petting the pup with the white spot. “I think I’ve already grown attached to him.”

“Good heavens. It’s only been five minutes,” Stephen pointed out.

“Aye, and ‘twas long enough for me to know he’d be perfect for Artis.” Bear clutched the tiny pup protectively against his big broad chest.

“The four of us can take turns watering and feeding them scraps,” William suggested.

“We can check on them and let them out every time we go to the privy. That way the children and women won’t get suspicious,” Sam added.

“Aye, if we all do that, the pups will na get lonely before Christmas mornin’,” Bear said.

“All right,” Sam agreed. “But Stephen, you’re in charge of house
training them.”

“Me?” Stephen whined. “Why me?”

“Because you’re the youngest,” William said, laying one of his long arms across Sam’s shoulders. “And we’re bigger.”

William and Sam both grinned at Stephen, daring him to object.

When Stephen started to protest, Sam quickly said, “The real reason is that you’re the best trainer of the four of us. You can train the pups faster than any of us. Have them trained to do their business outside before Christmas.”

“I train horses, not puppies!” Stephen objected. He jumped to grab a puppy about to squat, held him out at arm’s length, and then hurried toward the door.

Laughing, William and Bear shadowed Stephen and Sam followed, smiling and carrying Little John’s pup.

“House trained by Christmas morning,” Sam ordered, using his Captain voice on Stephen. “Gooood boy,” he soothed as he sat the pup down.

“But Christmas is in two days,” Stephen moaned.

“Aye, see if ye can have them well trained before then,” Bear said. “I do na want a pup leakin’ his wee willie onto my bed.”

Chapter 28

S
am poked his head in to check on Catherine as soon as he came back inside. She appeared to be sleeping comfortably so he quietly closed the door and turned toward the front room.

As he made his way down the candle lit hall, he grinned. He could hear Mrs. Wrigley and Rory having a lively conversation in the kitchen about home remedies. He raised his brows. He thought he sensed an immediate attraction between the two. If this kept up, either he would lose a good cook or William would have to hire a new helper for Whispering Hills.

“Tomorrow is Christmas Eve,” Jane told the three children gathered around her skirts as Sam strode into the front room. Samuel and Nicole had already been put to bed. “Do you know what that means?”

“It’s the day before Christmas,” Martha said, “of course.”

Sam remembered from his own childhood that Christmas is a magical time for children. But he wondered if, at age ten, Martha, was beginning to lose sight of some of the magic. He hoped she would have at least one more year to be enchanted by the season.

Behind the children, Bear sat leaning against the wall on a sturdy cushioned bench, with Artis in his lap. Above the newlyweds, a large sprig of mistletoe hung from the ceiling, which the couple were putting to good use. The newlyweds looked tighter than bark on a tree and it wouldn’t surprise Sam if Bear didn’t find some excuse for the two to leave the room
shortly.

“Are you going to tell the children a story?” Sam asked Jane, pouring himself a glass of punch and grabbing a piece of fruit cake before taking his chair. He hoped Jane would. Like many with Scots blood in her veins, she was an excellent storyteller.

Jane held up her copy of
‘The Christmas Frolic; or, Mirth for the Holidays,’
and said, “I’ll be reading a story from this collection.”

“What’s the story about?” Polly asked.

“A ghost,” Jane replied, eyes wide.

“Oh, excellent,” Little John said. “Please tell it, Aunt Jane.”

“Indeed, I will, but not until you three promise to go to bed without complaining and better yet, go to sleep, as soon as the tale is finished,” she said. “It’s growing late, and you all need your sleep to grow properly.”

The three nodded their heads.

“This is a story about the Twelfth Night, the last of the Twelve Days of Christmas, and the highlight of the Yuletide holidays. Throughout the colonies, as they do in England, people dance, drink, and eat huge meals to celebrate. Sometimes they eat so much, they start to see things they normally can’t or do things they normally wouldn’t do. Are you ready?” she asked.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Polly said, “hurry.”

So Jane began. “This is the story called, ’The Haunted House; a Twelfth-day Tale’
.”
Jane paused to smile at the children.

        
“On Twelfth Night, in the Year 1771, a large Company was assembled at the Seat of Edmund Williams, Esq. in Berkshire, to partake of the usual Diversions of the Evening. When Supper was over, and the Twelfth-Cake had been shared, with the customary Scene of Frolic, the Company began to think of departing; but as the Weather proved unfavorable, and most of the Company had a considerable way home, Mr. Williams accommodated as many of
them as possible with Beds; but there was still one young Gentleman (Captain Darnley) unprovided for and Mr. Williams frankly told him he had no room in which to lodge him, but one that was supposed to be haunted; and though (continued he) I have no Idea of such nonsense myself, we never yet could get any person to lodge in that Room. Young Darnley said he should be proud of lodging in such a Room; and Preparations were immediately made for his reception; a good Fire being Lighted, and a Candle placed on a Table near it. The Captain retired to rest, and after reflecting an Hour on the oddity of his situation, fell a Sleep. About three o’clock he was awakened by the opening of the Chamber Door, and not a little surprised to see a genteel Figure in White Walk slowly towards the Bed. The Candle burnt dim, and the Captain, with all his Courage, was too much alarmed to judge what the Apparition was. At length it turned down the bed cloths, and came softly into Bed. The Captain found that it breathed, and was then less terrified. At length he extended his Arm towards it, and felt a Finger, from which he slipped a Ring. Soon afterwards the Ghost left the Bed, stalked slowly across the Room, and shut the Door after it. The Captain slept in tranquility during the remainder of the Night, and in the Morning, when the Company were assembled at Breakfast, he asked if any Person had lost a Ring.”

“Had they?” Polly asked.

Jane looked down, and continued reading.

“Miss Williams declared herself Mistress of it.”

“What does mistress of it mean?” Martha asked.

“It means that she owned it. It was her ring,” Jane explained.

“Then what happened?” Little John asked. “Was she a ghost at nighttime?”

“Darnley related the particulars of the visit of the ghost, not a little to the confusion of the young Lady
.

“Mr. Williams took up the matter in a fresh point of view, and said
that as his Daughter had gone to Bed to the Captain without her Knowledge, it should be his Fault if he did not go to Bed to her in return.”

“What does that mean?” Martha asked.

“It means a young lady should never be in a man’s bedroom especially at night and in his bed unless they are married,” Stephen said firmly. “Since she was, and he did not prevent her, he was forced to marry her.”

Jane smiled at her husband, ever the protective father, and continued.

“The Captain most joyfully accepted the Terms; a happy Marriage soon ensued, and he has called his Lady by the Name of his Dear Ghost ever since.”

“That wasn’t terribly scary,” Little John complained. “She was just sleepwalking.”

“But it was romantic,” Martha said.

Stephen frowned at her.

“Aunt Artis, do you know any truly scary stories, ones like you told before about Scotland?” Little John asked. “Scarier than that one? And longer?”

Evidently, Little John’s standards for ghost stories were quite high, Sam thought.

“Oh, aye,” Artis responded, sitting up straighter in Bear’s lap. “’Tis said Scotland is the most haunted place on the earth. So, we have more than our share of both ghosts and ghost stories.”

“Nay,” Bear said, “she’s much too tired tonight to tell a story. Artis will save her story for Christmas Eve. I think we should all retire early. ‘Twas a long day for all of us and we need to be quiet so Catherine can sleep.” Bear’s big hand moved up and down Artis’ back.

Little John looked disappointed but was soon engaged in a debate with Martha about why ghost stories were much more entertaining than romantic stories. Polly seemed to be moderating.