Frontier Highlander Vow of Love (American Wilderness Series Romance Book 4) (20 page)

Kelly cut open Artis’ shift above where the blood had soaked through and laid the fabric to each side of the wound. She gasped at the sight of Artis’ torn flesh. It was the first time she had ever seen a bullet wound up close. She stood and stared down at the blood on her own hands and felt a sudden coldness hitting her core.

McGuffin sat down on the bed next to Artis and bent his head over the injury. His fingers gently probed around the wound. “I was hoping the lead was near the surface. But it’s not. Get William’s bottle of whiskey, some fresh cloths, and the water I warmed. First, we have to get this clean. I need to pour whiskey into the wound.”

Kelly jerked her head up. “Won’t that…hurt her?” she asked, worried as she set about getting what her father needed.

“I hope so. That means it’s cleaning it out.” Her father dipped one of the cloths into the warm water and washed away most of the blood. Then he poured a little whiskey directly into the hole left by the lead. “It’s a good thing she’s passed out. That whiskey stings a fair bit. But what I’m about to do will hurt a good deal more if she wakes. If she does, have her bite down on a clean cloth. Roll one up and have it ready.”

Fear and apprehension coursed through Kelly. What if Artis died? God forbid. What would Bear do? Would he blame her father? A wave of panic swept through her confused mind.

“Kelly, we can do this. Trust me girl. But, I will need your help. Get your sewing kit—I’ll need a strong thread and a sharp needle. And I need your smallest knife.”

Kelly swallowed the panic rising within her and retrieved the items her father asked for. “Should I thread the needle?”

“Yes, but first thrust that knife into those hot coals in the hearth for a moment or two.”

Kelly did as he asked and then drew the blade from the coals. Her hand shook as she gave him the knife. Then she grabbed the needle and thread
and took several deep breaths to still her trembling hands. It took her several attempts to get the thread through the needle’s tiny eye.

“This knife will do nicely, it’s long but narrow.” He rinsed the ashes off with clean water, letting the liquid spill to the floor, and waited a moment for the blade to cool. Then he inserted the blade tip into the hole on Artis’ side.

Kelly thought she might swoon. She was more shaken than she wanted to admit at the sight of the blade point entering Artis’ soft flesh.

“How deep do you think it is?” she asked. She turned away without waiting for a reply.

“Don’t know yet.” He gritted his mouth tighter and leaned in.

She took a deep steadying breath and turned back. She had to do her part to help Artis. “What can I do?”

“Soak a cloth with that whiskey and be ready to apply pressure with it when I get the ball out,” he answered. “I think I feel the lead.” Kelly held her breath.

He edged the knife deeper, without haste, but with purpose.

Blood began to gush from the wound.

“Kelly, soak up this blood. Don’t use the cloth soaked in whiskey. Get another cloth,” he said. His voice and face were still calm and full of strength and determination. “Get as close to the hole as you can, without touching the knife or my hand, and apply some pressure.”

Kelly had to admire her father’s composure. Now, she was sure he had done this before, maybe many times. But she was far from calm herself. Her mouth felt parched and her throat tight. And her heart ached with worry. She had to bite her lower lip to keep from crying.

She positioned herself by Artis’ head and reached down toward the draining blood. Artis could ill afford to lose much more blood. If her father didn’t locate the lead soon, Artis might be in serious trouble. She was even more certain of that when the cloth quickly became soaked.

Kelly startled as someone tried to open the latched cabin door. Then impatiently pounded on the heavy door.

Fear filled her instantly. Was it Steller? Had he come back to torment them further? Or to get Artis?

The noise woke Nicole and she started crying.

“Artis! Kelly! Open the door for God’s sake,” she heard Bear shout.

“Don’t move,” her father told her firmly “He’ll just have to wait. I’m almost there.”

“Are ye all right?” Bear yelled. “Answer me!”

Chapter 23

B
ear pounded the heavy plank door. Why weren’t they answering? He could hear the wee bairn crying. His mind searched for a plausible explanation. Perhaps they were up in the loft.

“Kelly,” he bellowed again. “Artis!”

“Bear, wait a minute. I’m coming soon,” Kelly finally yelled.

Bear was relieved to hear Kelly’s voice and assumed Nicole was keeping her occupied. He reached up and wrung the water out of his hair and stomped his feet on the porch to shake some of the moisture off his clothes. Then he removed his boots, poured a little water from both, and sat them by the door to dry. His entire body was chilled. He was looking forward to the warmth of the hearth fire and some hot coffee.

When Kelly unbarred the door a moment later, Bear’s throat closed up and his heart nearly stopped. Kelly’s bloodstained hand held a cloth soaked red. But it was the look on her face that chilled him to his very bones.

“What happened?” he asked before he could take a step.

“Artis,” she replied in a small frightened voice.

“Artis what?” he demanded. Panic rampaged within him.

Kelly was on the verge of tears. “Bear, she was shot by the man who
chased us. I didn’t realize she was hurt until I got here. I’m so sorry. I would not have driven the wagon so hard had I known. All those bumps.” Kelly looked wretched and miserable.

“Shot!” Was Artis dead?
God forbid
.

“She couldn’t get out of the wagon. Then I noticed all the blood.” Kelly glanced uneasily over her shoulder then back at him. “What happened to you?”

He ignored her question, pushed the door aside, and stomped in. The sight before him weakened his knees. He took a quick breath of utter astonishment. Artis lay on William and Kelly’s bed. Blood soaked rags and clothes were everywhere.

In two long strides, he stood by Artis’ side. The scene before him ripped his heart apart. Blood was everywhere. Her face was pale and she seemed to be barely breathing. And the sight of a needle entering her skin above a heinous wound made his limbs start shaking. He had to hold back a cry of panic. Instead, he growled with despair. He glowered at Kelly. “Holy God, what’s happened?” he demanded.

Kelly didn’t answer him. Instead, she quickly moved to pick up her crying daughter.

Mister McGuffin, bent over Artis’ stomach, did not look up. “I’m just finishing the last stitch now. I got the lead out!” he said, triumphantly.

“Lead? No. No!” The shock of the news hit him full force. He could only stand there, blank, and shaken.

“Rest assured Bear, if the wound doesn’t fester, she’ll be all right,” McGuffin said.

“That’s not reassurin’,” he managed, growing angry now. “Wounds often fester.” He knelt down next to her and bent to one knee. He put a hand on her forehead. At least she had no fever yet. “Artis,” he breathed. He had to swallow the emotions tightening his throat.

McGuffin withdrew the lead from a pocket and handed it to Bear.

His breath caught in his lungs for a moment as he scrutinized the small ball. A tiny thing—nonetheless so often deadly—capable of stealing life from the living. Traces of her blood still clung to the metal, painted on like tiny strokes of red paint. It made his own blood boil.

He stuck the lead in his sporran and fixed his gaze on McGuffin, his eyes searching, imploring, hoping.

McGuffin’s voice sounded tired as he said, “I did all I could to reduce the likelihood of the wound festering. I cleaned the wound carefully with whiskey and we heated the knife in the coals to cleanse it. The lead did not hit any of her organs, but Artis lost a significant share of her blood. Nevertheless, she’s young and healthy and with Kelly’s help and good food, she’ll heal fast.”

“Why did ye na take her to Boonesborough? To the doctor?” he asked. “Was it the storm?”

“Yes. The way that cloudburst came down, I knew the creeks would rise and be impassible. She would not have lasted through the night, Bear,” McGuffin explained. “Besides, she was bleeding too much to withstand another rough wagon ride into town.”

“But what do ye know of surgery?”

“I know enough.” His tone was patient and calm.

But calm was the last thing Bear felt. He seethed with mounting rage. “That damn thief. If I’d known the whoreson shot her, I would have killed him instead of just woundin’ the man,” he swore.

“Who was he?” McGuffin asked, as he pulled a clean sheet up to Artis’ neck and then laid a blanket over her.

“The fourth robber of the state’s gold,” he answered abruptly. “He was after revenge because I shot his brother.” He didn’t want to talk about the robber. He’s was too worried. Only once before had he experienced worry this deep and overwhelming. It happened on the journey to Kentucky with his brothers. And that did not end well. A deep foreboding erupted within him.

“Where’s William?” Kelly asked.

“In town, lockin’ the bastard up in his jail.”

“I can see that you got caught in this terrible storm,” Kelly said, putting a now quiet Nicole back down on her bed. “You look a bit worse for wear.” She handed him a towel to dry off.

He ran the towel across his face once and then tossed it aside. “Aye. Camel and I had to swim across high water. But that does na matter now.”

His mind burned with worry. He could think of nothing else.

“Nevertheless, I’m glad you’re here and that you are all right,” she said, gathering up the bloodied cloths and Artis’ soiled clothing. She tossed the cloths into the fireplace and put the gown into a bucket full of water to soak.

The sight of the gown made his belly knot. Like Artis, its beauty was made heart-rending by blood.

Bear towed a chair up next to the bed and just stared at Artis. He loved her. He couldn’t lose her. Not now. Not ever. He struggled to hold his raw emotions in check as he gently stroked the top of her head.

“Talk to her,” McGuffin urged kindly. “Sometimes the voice of a loved one will keep them from slipping to the other side.”

A startling realization washed over Bear as he realized
he
was her only ‘loved one’. The thought filled him with an overwhelming need to help her. He leaned closer to her ear and spoke in a soft whisper. “Ye’ve got to get better wife. As soon as ye do, we’ll start buildin’ our home. We’ll put it right on top of that hill on yer place—I mean
our
place—we’ll call it Highland House.” He heard his own voice break, as was his heart, but he forced himself to continue. “And we’ll build it just as ye want it. With lots of room for all the wee bairns we’ll have. You’ll find happiness there for many years to come. Remember my pledge. I’ll love ye forever, and ever, and ever…and a wee bit more.”

He had also pledged his protection. But he’d failed her already. They
hadn’t even been married one evening, for heaven’s sake. She’d lain, all alone in the back of the wagon, with her lifeblood spilling out of her while he’d been gone. How could he have been so negligent? Yes, it was dark, but he should have made sure she was all right after the robber fired his weapon. His carelessness filled him with self-loathing and sent his temper soaring.

Vexed, he clenched his hand until his nails bit into his palm. He wanted to hit the man that did this to his wife. Aye, they were married right enough—and always would be, by God. He stood and pounded his fist on the nearby table, turning over the candlesticks Kelly had just righted.

The sudden noise caused Kelly to jump a bit and then she started straightening things again. He sat down again and watched her for a moment. The candlesticks were not the only things in disarray. A bucket by the door was knocked over, a stool lay on its side, and several trenchers and tankards were scattered on the floor. A few of the strings of dried apples, peppers, and ginseng roots, hanging from the ceiling lay on the floor. Everywhere he glanced, something was out of place. Normally, the cabin was neat and organized.

He abruptly realized Mister McGuffin looked like someone had beaten him. He’d been so troubled about Artis, he failed to notice the man’s scrapes, bruises, and torn clothing.

Kelly was acting strangely too. She was normally a strong woman, but he could see her hands trembling.

He sprung up, realizing something else was terribly wrong. “What happened here?”

He stared at McGuffin expecting an answer, but the man just cleared his throat, scrubbed a hand over his face, and looked away.

A brittle silence enveloped the room and the air grew tight with the tension he sensed from both Kelly and her father. Had the man started drinking to excess again?

“Kelly, stop what yer doin’. I asked ye both a question. Answer me
lass. What happened here?”

Kelly peered up at him, but still didn’t answer. Her words seemed stuck in her throat.

“Damn it! Someone tell me what the hell happened.”

“Bear, please sit down. I’ll tell you everything from the beginning,” Kelly said. She appeared tired and haggard and let out a long sigh.

“I do na want to sit,” he growled.

She bit her lip and stared away, her eyes sparkling with tears demanding to be shed. She poured a cup of coffee and handed it to him. “You must be cold,” she said, her words and her hands shaky.

“Nay, na longer.”

Kelly was clearly distraught. Why? He sat down, not wanting to upset her further, but the muscles in his arms and shoulders tensed even more.

Something else had happened and they didn’t want to tell him about it.

Chapter 24

W
illiam arrived at the Fort in a foul mood. He did not like riding a horse he was unfamiliar with. And riding the mount in terrible weather, with a thunderstorm booming overhead, and the gelding bearing the weight of the prisoner too, made the trip back to Boonesborough slow and far from pleasant. The horse had shied at the lightning more than once and side-stepped far too many times, trying to rid himself of the added weight. He finally decided to dismount to make it easier on the weary animal. Trudging through the sticky mud and driving rain, head bent against the wind, he led the gelding the last mile or so. Never had a mile seemed so long.