Frontier Gift of Love (American Wilderness Series Romance Book 5) (14 page)

He gave Bear a telling look. “Bear, why don’t you go into the kitchen and get yourself a cup of coffee. You’ve had a long ride getting here.”

Sam watched, fighting his own battle of restraint, as Bear left the room. He turned back to Dixon. He wanted to tear Dixon apart and then toss him to the wolves in the nearby forest. But he and Bear needed to outsmart, not outfight, this arrogant bastard.

Catherine stepped forward. “We have to do as he says. We can’t risk them hurting our son.”

Sam sheathed his knife, went to her, and gently took her arm. “Sit down, Catherine, please,” he said, directing her to her chair.

Catherine did as he asked, but turned toward Dixon. “Sir, I am a wealthy woman. I will pay you twice whatever your employer is offering to acquire this land from my husband.”

Dixon smirked at her. “Thank you little lady, but no.”

Sam smoldered, again thinking about pummeling Dixon to shreds, but clenched his hands into fists instead. Long ago, he’d learn to unleash his temper only when it served his purpose.

Bear returned from the kitchen, holding a cup.

Dixon turned to Sam. “Captain Wyllie. This is actually very straightforward. Simply sign over your deed and tomorrow morning I will lead you to Little John. We’ll exchange the deed for the boy and my partner and I will be on our way back to New Hampshire. It’s just that simple.”

When deceitful people say something is simple, they are usually hiding a far more complicated truth. Sam hardened his voice. “And what do you propose to do in the meantime. Sit in my chair all night?”

“If that will suit you. It suits me. It’s quite comfortable here and I’m finally warming up,” Dixon said, haughtily taking a seat in Sam’s chair once again.

Bear snarled at the man and stepped toward Dixon looking like he was about to toss the hot coffee in the man’s face.

“Let’s oblige him for now,” Sam said, throwing another revealing glance at Bear.

Sam silently vowed to make this man pay dearly for his arrogance.

“Catherine, please take Artis to Bear’s room. She is undoubtedly exhausted,” he instructed. He sent them to Bear’s room because it was the furthest away.

Catherine stood, gave Dixon a contemptuous look, turned, and took Artis’ elbow.

Artis’ eyes conveyed the fury within her, but she went with Catherine.

Dixon settled more comfortably in the chair, stretched out his legs and crossed his arms over his belly, and then closed his eyes.

Sam waited until he heard the door to Bear’s room open and close before he silently motioned Garvin over to him. Leaving Bear guarding Dixon, they stepped into the hall, and he spoke to Garvin in a hushed whisper. “Watch him well. Call me if he even farts. Under no circumstances is he to leave this room. And don’t be concerned if you hear noise in the kitchen. It’s our men.”

“Understood, Captain.”

The two returned to the front room.

“Bear, with me,” Sam said. Taking long strides, he led them down the hall to Bear’s room and closed the door behind him.

The three gathered around him. “What’s the plan Sam?” Bear asked, keeping his voice low. “I’d gladly kill the bloody bastard for ye if only we knew where they were hidin’ Little John.”

“What’s this all about Sam?” Catherine asked. “Surely there must be
more to it if he refused my offer.”

“’Tis clear this is na just about quarryin’ rock,” Bear said.

“Agreed. Hell, half of New Hampshire is rock. I believe there’s another reason they want the mountain. Several years ago, a farmer in Andover, not too far from my land, had a few tons of rock on his property analyzed. They found small amounts of gold. Area farmers started bringing in mining equipment from all over. The so called gold-rush ended just as quickly as it began. But perhaps there
is
gold in my mountain. That must be what this is about. With the country’s new currency system, the Department of the Treasury will need a supply of both gold and silver mined here in the colonies.”

Bear nodded. “Aye, I read in the Kentucky Gazette that the Coinage Act called for ninety percent silver alloy in coins and ninety percent gold alloy in eagle coins. The government is aggressively seekin’ sources for both.”

Sam nodded in agreement, amazed at how scholarly Bear often was. “That’s right. I suspect that whoever sent these men here, offered them a percentage of all sales to the government. It could mean a fortune for a lifetime if there really is gold there.”

“Or even if ‘tis only silver,” Bear added.

“Sam, please, just sign the deed over to him and make the exchange,” Catherine pleaded. “We can’t risk Little John’s life.”

“I would, willingly, but I can’t trust Dixon to keep his word,” he answered. “Trying to get the truth out of that man is like trying to get a dead man to confess.”

“Aye, ye can na trust a blackguard such as him to do as he says. They might just be plannin’ to cover their tracks by killin’ the lad
and
ambushin’ all of ye,” Artis agreed.

Catherine gasped and Sam saw a flash of fear rip through her.

“I’m not going to let that happen, Artis,” he said firmly. He turned to Catherine. “Are the housekeeper and cook asleep?”

She shook her head. “I doubt that they are, but I told them to remain in their room until either you or I asked them to come out.”

Sam turned to Bear. “Did tell the men to sneak in the back and wait in the kitchen? And unbar the kitchen door when I sent you to get coffee?”

“Aye, I was hopin’ I understood ye correctly. ‘Twas the most logical thing for us to do, given the circumstances,” Bear said. “Yer men are there and awaitin’ yer instructions.”

“But ye told Bear to tell them ye’d see them in the morn,” Artis said, sounding confused.

“Aye, but he did it with his left hand fisted behind his back. That’s our signal to do the opposite,” Bear explained. “We dreamed up a secret hand code when we were all wee lads. It has come in handy more than once. And I knew he wanted me to bring the men in through the rear when he pointed his knife that direction instead of toward the barn.”

“Clever,” Artis said. “When this is all over, ye must teach us that code.”

“Sam, what’s near here? Any caves? Abandoned cabins? Anyplace they could hide Little John?” Bear asked.

Sam’s mind raced. “Yes! I’d forgotten. There’s an old beaver trapper’s cabin about two miles from here, off the road heading north. They could have stumbled upon it while hunting food. Perhaps they spent the night there before they came here this morning. When I turned them down, they must have waited in the woods for Little John to come out and play, then followed him out of sight to where we tracked him. I bet if we’d been able to continue, the tracks would have led straight to the cabin.”

“Aye,” Bear agreed.

“Now if the weather will just cooperate.” He peered out Bear’s window. Thankfully, only a light dusting of snow now fell and the wind appeared to have calmed. “Looks far better out there. Catherine, I want you to go to bed just as you always do, and try to rest. Call out ‘good night’ to Artis before you shut your door. Artis, you do the same, loud enough for Dixon to hear.”

Both women nodded their understanding.

“Catherine, please trust me. I
will
find him. I promise,” he said.

Tears glistened on his wife’s pale face. “Oh Sam, bring our son back.”

Sam placed one hand on her shoulder and the other palm over her bulging belly. “I’ll take care of Little John. You take care of this little one.”

She smiled up at him. A tear slipped from her dark lashes, but she seemed consoled by their plan and a little more hopeful. “Stay safe, Sam.”

“Artis, ye should get some rest too. Ye look like yer about to drop,” Bear said.

She appeared reluctant to admit her weariness, but said, “Aye, I am tired.”

Bear turned to Sam. “We had little sleep. We only stopped for a wee rest gettin’ here.”

“Both of you keep the doors to your rooms locked,” Sam said.

“What are you two going to do?” Catherine asked, sniffling a little.

“Bear and I will go tie Dixon up, remove his weapons, and then step into the kitchen and make coffee,” he explained. “While the coffee’s brewing, I’ll have Garvin stable and feed Dixon’s horse. His mount looks near frozen.” Whatever animosity he felt toward Dixon, he would not let the animal suffer for it.

“Then what?” Catherine and Artis both asked at the same time.

“We can’t both leave,” Sam quietly told Bear. “I want you and Garvin to stay here. Dixon may have more men out there that we don’t know about that lie in wait. They could be planning to attack the house on Dixon’s signal.”

“Aye,” Bear agreed.

“After I take a few sips of coffee, I’ll make Dixon think I’m going to bed for a while and putting you on first watch. You stay in the front room with Garvin and guard the bastard well. I’ll sneak out the back door with
my men. We’ll go to the cabin. If Little John is there, we’ll rescue him and bring Dixon’s partner back too,
if
the man is still alive. If I have to kill him, I will.”

“’Tis a sound plan,” Bear said.

Sam turned to Catherine. “When we get back, I’ll sneak Little John in through the back door and then let you know he’s safe.”

“What if the lad is na there?” Artis asked. “What if they have him hidden somewhere else like a cave?”

“Then we have na lost anythin’ but time,” Bear answered.

“This
is
going to work. I can feel it,” Catherine said, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“It has to,” Sam said. “My son needs me. I will not fail him.”

Chapter 13

S
am and Harry, James, and Mathew, led their horses single file as they trudged through the fresh snow, trying to be as quiet as possible. He took them well away from the house before he turned back toward the road. As soon as he thought it was safe, they remounted and headed north on the road that led away from their land.

Snow, ice, hidden rocks, and frozen ground would make the trek to the cabin challenging. About a half foot of snow lay on the ground, deeper in some places. But the horses began growing their winter coats as soon as the days grew shorter, long before the full force of winter set in, so they were already well protected. And their farm work had made the mounts well-muscled and strong enough to plunge their hooves through snow to gain traction.

Sam’s horses had carried him through much worse in New Hampshire. But, in difficult conditions like this, it was best to let a horse set his own pace. Thankfully, Alex kept moving steadily forward without slowing and the other horses kept up. It wouldn’t be long and they would near the cabin.

Over the years, he came to trust a horse’s sharp instinct for sensing danger too. When a horse hesitated to move forward, it usually meant something was wrong. A man who didn’t listen to his horse put them both in peril.

He also learned to trust his own keen instincts. Intuition is a sacred gift
to the warrior. And everyone else facing danger. Now, when Little John’s life depended on him making the right decisions, it would be even more important. When he listened to his soul, his good instincts often told him what to do long before his mind could figure it out.

He turned his head back toward the three men that followed. “Stay quiet. Noise travels a long way at night and we don’t want to alert the man. By the way, his name is Thomas Crowell.” Like Bear, he made a point to remember the names of his enemies.

“Yes Sir,” the three men all replied in soft voices.

As he rode, Sam tried not to worry. He wanted to keep his mind clear and calm. When they neared the cabin, he would need to come up with a plan that would not jeopardize Little John. He gazed ahead, grateful that the snowstorm carried the dark clouds away and the cool-white rays of the moon could now light their way. It was almost as though God Himself held a lantern above their heads.

Lord, continue to guide me as I seek to find my son
.

At the same moment he finished his entreaty to God, he spotted a part of a body lying face down in the snow a short distance away. A snow bank kept him from seeing the entire form. “Little John?” His mind screamed with panic.

No! It can’t be
.

He raced Alex over to the prone figure his heart in his throat. He let out a long breath when he realized the body was that of a full grown man. Bill White. The man’s companions literally tossed him to the wolves and coyotes instead of burying him. Dixon and Crowell were men of the worst sort.

Sam turned to his three men who had followed him to the spot. “One of you can come back tomorrow and bury what’s left of him.”

The four returned to the winding path leading to the cabin. The night ride held hidden natural beauty. In spots, ice patches appeared infused with moonlight and the snow glistened as though nature sprinkled the trail and
the bushes along it with tiny stars. But Sam’s mind stayed focused on Little John. He was certain his son would find strength from within during this ordeal. Strength was in his Wyllie blood. And the trials of life already forced the child to mature beyond his eight years.

Yet Little John was only a boy and must be frightened, even terrified. The thought hardened the muscles on Sam’s face. He straightened his back. Thomas Crowell would not know what hit him. It would likely be Sam’s fist. Or his knife, if the man resisted. His fingers, numb with cold, gripped the reins in his hand even tighter.

He finally saw a tiny glow of light just before he smelled the faint scent of a fire burning in the cabin’s hearth. With each step of the horses, the light grew larger and the scent grew stronger until at last he held up a hand, halting the others. “We’ll tie the horses and walk from here,” he whispered. “Take your rifles in case we need them, although your pistols will be of more use inside the cabin. I assume all of you put fresh powder in your weapons before we left?”

The three nodded and dismounted, rifles in hand. They fell in line and followed behind Sam, as he carefully maneuvered them around any fallen logs or brush that might make noise. The snow made their progress slow, but they soon found themselves about fifty yards away from the old cabin’s front door.