Frontier Highlander Vow of Love (American Wilderness Series Romance Book 4) (31 page)

For some time, Bear continued to study the creek bank diligently. Several times they thought they had found something, but every time it turned out to be an animal leaving the creek after watering. Each time, his disappointment grew.

He stirred uneasily in the saddle and asked, “Why do ye think he took her? If it was just revenge, he would have killed her back at our house.”

“He needed a hostage in case we caught up to him,” William said. “He thinks we won’t shoot him if he has a gun on her.”

The explanation seemed plausible, but set off even more alarms in Bear’s head. “So when we do catch up to the bastard, he’ll likely try to exchange her for his freedom. How can we trust the fiend?”

“We can’t. He’s not a man of scruples, but he’ll bargain with us, expecting us to honor our word. He’ll want our promise that we won’t pursue him. He’ll likely say he’ll take her with him for a distance and force us to stay back. Then, if he keeps his word, which is doubtful, he’ll release her.”

Bear did not see any good scenarios in the situation, but he did see several possibilities for bad outcomes. “I do na like this one wee bit,” he spat. His temper flared again.

“I agree. There’s much at stake.”

Bear’s fears mounted, stronger than ever. Something nagged at the back of his mind. “Whatever Miller’s plan is, we’ll have to be smarter than he is,” he said.

“First we have to find her.”

We’re comin’ Artis. I swear it!

Chapter 38

W
as Miller going to shoot her here in the creek? Would that be his revenge on Bear? Even if the shot didn’t kill her, she might drown in the water, unable to pull herself to land. Would her body lie rotting in the water until Bear found her?

She needed to dispel thoughts of dying—just thinking of it tore at her insides and built fearful images in her mind. The dark thoughts made her more afraid of herself than of him. She had to get a grip on her emotions or she would lose her ability to fight when the time came.

And fight she would!

The only way she was going to survive this was to replace her fear with strength and cunning. She would not allow any more dire thoughts into her head. She needed to keep her heart cold and still—erect a wall of defense against him. She took a few deep breaths, trying to release the tight knot clutching her lungs and throat. She tried to relax her shoulders, so tight with tension it felt like her muscles had turned to layers of rock. She reached into her pocket and let her fingertips caress the precious clan badge. She squeezed her eyes shut and pictured it on Bear’s broad chest.

When she opened her eyes, she made herself focus on the beauty around her for a few minutes—the warm fall colors on the trees that lined the bank; the sound of a cardinal tweeting nearby; the rays of light that streamed through the tree branches and lit the leaf-lined forest floor.

It would be paradise if not for the man who rode behind her.

Think, Artis, think. Use your wits
, she told herself. You have your dirk. Actually two weapons. The clan badge had a sturdy pin that would serve too. Miller’s stay in jail clearly weakened the man. He has one bad shoulder and arm. He didn’t appear to be particularly intelligent or clever. And the horse he was riding, likely stolen from the fort’s stables, did not look as stout or as young as Beautiful. She was obviously better mounted and judging from the graceless way he sat his horse, she would bet she was a better rider than Miller.

But she needed to remember that Miller was motivated by revenge. She understood herself just how powerful that motivation can be. If circumstances had permitted, she would have sought vengeance against Steller for murdering her mother. In fact, in the past, she fantasized about doing just that, many times, especially on her voyage across the ocean. Like Miller, she would have risked everything to be able to make Steller pay for what he did.

It would likely be useless to try to persuade him to release her, but she had to try. “Mister Miller, if I could convince my husband and his brother not to follow ye, would ye let me go?”

“No.”

“Ye could go somewhere far away from Kentucky and start a new honest life. God will forgive yer sins, even murder, if ye repent and sin na more.”

“I don’t believe in God,” he said flatly.

His voice was totally emotionless and it chilled her.

Miller kept their pace hurried and they continued to trudge through the center of the creek for what must have been an hour. She couldn’t judge the time from the sun’s position because gray and pepper-colored clouds now packed the dull sky. Soon the watercourse forked and he told her to take the left fork. Within a mile or so, the water grew deeper, becoming a full-fledged stream, running bank full. The horses soon had to swim. Then
it branched for a second time. Again, they took the left fork.

Rain began to fall, and it showered just long enough to dampen everything and then it quit as quickly as it had started. Artis’ wet boots and soggy clothing, and the cool November day, made her shiver. It made her glad she’d grabbed her shawl as she’d left her bedroom. She wondered whether being cold would be the only thing she would have to endure today. She would give almost anything to be back safely in her home again.

Finally, the terrain climbed upward and the stream became only a trickling brook scampering through rocks and pebbles. Along the shoreline, layer upon layer of limestone joined together to create a stalwart barrier to the tall woods beyond.

“You and your horse can water here, but just for a minute,” Miller instructed. “And relieve yourself if you have a need.”

She dismounted and threw Beautiful’s reins across the saddle and let her mare water. Artis knew Miller would keep watching her, but she ignored her mortification and forced herself to stoop down behind a waist-high boulder. When she finished, she washed her hands and face and then hastily gulped down some water. While she drank, she heard him relieve himself on the opposite bank. She took that time to look back, hopeful she would see Bear and William coming up the creek. But only disappointment filled her.

“No sense looking for your man, just yet.”

There was something odd in his tone that bothered her. Why did he say, ‘just yet’? But she ignored his taunt and leveled a stern look in his direction. “He’s a Scot. He’ll not only track me here, he’ll use his hatchet to relieve ye of yer head.” She plunged on carelessly. “And if ye touch me even once, he’ll likely relieve ye of yer manhood too!”

Triumph flooded through her when he winced at her words.

“Mount up,” he commanded.

She took a few more sips of water and then a deep breath and tried to calm herself.

She wanted to leave a piece of her gown or something for Bear to find, but Miller was watching her every move.

They remounted and turned away from the stream weaving their way between the larger boulders and limestone lining the riverbank. Artis noticed that the ground was still pebble and rock covered where she exited the stream. Even if Bear made the right choices where the creek and stream had branched, he wouldn’t be able to tell where they crossed the bank. Miller had found a place completely devoid of vegetation. The horses could not trample anything down or leave a track on the thick layer of stones and gravel.

That meant she was now on her own. Her life was in her own hands. As good a tracker as Bear was, he would never be able to track her here. But if Miller wanted to extract his revenge by killing her, why didn’t he just do the evil deed? Why take her so far away? Unless…unless his real target was Bear. But if that were the case, why was he making it so hard for Bear to follow? Perhaps Miller wasn’t. Was
he
leaving clues? If so, Miller was definitely cleverer than she had given him credit for being.

She was suddenly anxious to escape. She chanced a glance behind her. He still held the gun aimed at her back. Part of her wanted to make a run for it. If he missed, Beautiful could easily outrun his horse. But if he didn’t, she would not only lose her life, she would lose her future with Bear. That would be worse. Much worse.

Be patient. The right time will come
.

“Keep going,” he said, scowling at her.

Artis squeezed Beautiful’s sides and urged her mare to a trot. Soon they were once again weaving through heavy woods and dodging low-hanging boughs and limbs. She wondered again, where they were going. She realized she would have to recall how to get back when she finally managed to get away. She made a point to study the landscape, marking landmarks in her mind. She had an excellent memory and thought she could remember her way back if she concentrated on memorizing the markers.

“Pick up the pace,” he demanded.

If Miller wanted her to pick up the pace, she would oblige him. Deliberately, she took Beautiful as fast as she dared—riding hard, twisting, and curling her way through the trees with the skill of a natural horseman. Burdette had been right about the horse’s training. Beautiful reined well and the mare skillfully made the sharp cuts and snaking zigzags.

“Slow down,” he yelled.

Artis smirked to herself as she brought her mount to a slower pace. She tossed her head back and eyed him with cold insolence. Then she stroked and patted the mare’s neck, thanking Beautiful for performing so splendidly.

They continued on for miles in silence, the only sounds coming from the horses’ hooves and leathers.

“Turn south,” he yelled without warning.

She flinched at the sudden sound of his voice. She tugged Beautiful to a stop. “I thought we were goin’ south,” she said, deliberately sounding confused.

“No, we were headed west,” he said, “go that way.” He pointed to his left. “Move.”

Actually, Artis was fairly certain which direction they had traveled since leaving the stream, but she wanted to be sure. That knowledge could be important later when she made her way back to Highland.

A few minutes later, Miller directed her into a steep ravine. They made their way through the gulch until she spotted an opening in the side of the canyon wall. A cave.

The thought of being trapped in a cave with this man made her extraordinarily uncomfortable. She hated dark cramped spaces—especially caves. Her dismay grew when he dismounted and tied his weary horse nearby. But she remembered her resolve to stay strong and summoned her courage once again.

“Get inside,” he ordered.

She dismounted, tied Beautiful, and stared at Miller. She narrowed her eyes and met his icy gaze straight on. “We have to take care of the horses first. Your geldin’ is about to drop. They need to be unsaddled and allowed to water and graze.”

“They can rest just fine standing right there for now.”

She tossed her braid behind her back in defiance and placed her hands on her hips in a not so subtle challenge. She was tired from a lack of sleep last night and the long ride, cold, hungry, and thirsty. She was in no mood to be cooperative.

He met her gaze without flinching. “Get inside,” he said again, pointing the way with the pistol.

“Nay, I will not! It would na be proper.”

Miller scoffed at her response. “To hell with proper,” he roared, “get inside now or I’ll properly skin you.”

She stiffened and marched up a steep incline, over rocks and grass toward the darkness of the cave opening just as rain started to fall in earnest.

Chapter 39

A
rtis stood at the cave entrance unable to make her feet move.

“Get in there,” Miller commanded, pushing at her back.

“I can’t.”

“You will unless you want to die right here and become food for the wolves tonight.”

Artis let out a breath and took another deeper one. Old fears, large and looming, shadowed her mind. As a child, she’d found a cavern in the hills around her home. And, like all children full of curiosity, she just had to explore it. But she lost her way and spent hours trying to find her way out of the dark labyrinth, crying the entire time. When she finally did locate the exit, she swore she would never enter a cave again.

“Please, do na make me go in there,” she pleaded. She reached into her pocket and made a tight fist around the clan badge, hoping it would give her strength.

“What are you afraid of? Ghosts?”

She would rather face ghosts than the cave. “Can I just wait out here? I promise on my dear mother’s soul I will na run away.”

Miller must have reached the end of his patience because he shoved her inside. Then he pushed her again, hard, and she stumbled and fell scraping her hands on the rough rocks.

She peered around, her eyes wide and her heart thundering within her breast. For a few moments, she sat crouched, paralyzed with fear, and couldn’t move. The cave’s shadowy walls and black tunnel seemed to hide horrors that fed her panic. She forced herself to breathe deeply and clutched her gown’s skirt with her hands to keep from shaking. Then she remembered the clan badge and held it tight in her closed fist against her heart.

Gradually, her terror lessened and she furtively studied the cave and her situation.

Miller seemed to ignore her as he moved about and settled several things.

The cave looked as though someone had previously occupied it. There were several pallets for beds, an overturned bucket, a coffee pot, some other gear, and signs of a previous cook fire.

She eyed him apprehensively. “Why did ye bring me here, Mister Miller?”

“You’re my bait. I didn’t really want to kill you. I want to murder the man who killed my brother. I wasn’t going to risk getting shot by him again, so while in jail, I concocted a plan—I’d lure him to our cave. I deliberately broke a branch or two to let them know what fork to take. At the other fork, I knew they would head toward the more isolated area, because they would think I would. And when we stopped to drink and then left the creek bed, I made it look like a piece of my shirt tore off on the boulder by the path we took.”

“But if ye wanted them to find us, why make it so hard to follow us by goin’ through the water?

“I could tell that sheriff and your man are smart fellows. I didn’t want to make it too obvious that I was setting up an ambush. I want them to ride
right into my trap unawares and unsuspecting.”