Frontier Highlander Vow of Love (American Wilderness Series Romance Book 4) (6 page)

“Nay, ye said that Miss MacKay may come by.”

“Yes, I said, she might. Bear, we can’t sit here all day waiting for her.”

Bear crossed his arms in front of him and gave William a slight smile of defiance. He wasn’t going anywhere.

Deputy Mitchell strode in and greeted Bear.

“Tis good to see ye again, deputy. Are ye keeping the sheriff in line?”

“Only Mrs. Wyllie can do that!” Mitchell said, grinning.

“Deputy, will you stay here and if a young lady named Miss MacKay should happen to come by, make her wait and you come and get us. We’ll be at the tailor’s shop,” William said. “And then the barber’s.”

“But…” Bear started.

“No buts. You’re going. For a man with such an eagle eye, I would think you would notice that you’re starting to look as shaggy as a real bear. I won’t have a brother of mine meeting the Governor, and his wife, looking like he just stepped out of the woods after a year.”

“Actually, almost two years. But there’s na sense in havin’ ye keep blatherin’ on about it, I’ll go.” Reluctantly, he stood. William was right. If he was going to favorably impress Miss MacKay or any other young woman he happened to meet, he definitely needed some sprucing up.

The two slowly made their way to the tailor as many of the townspeople stopped the two to greet them warmly. In the few months that Bear had lived in Boonesborough, before moving with Sam and Catherine to Cumberland Falls, he and his brothers had developed a reputation for bravery and gallantry, making them all favorites of the town’s inhabitants. Even the tailor seemed glad to see him.

“Bear!
Hé! L'ami!”

Bear returned the greeting. “Hello, my friend.”

“You’re looking well. How is Sam? Is he still wearing buckskins too? And dear Catherine, Kentucky’s most beautiful woman?” the Frenchman asked. “I hope you’re here to let me make you presentable.” The man rattled on, in his heavy French accent, not giving Bear time to answer any of his questions.

“I think a dark green fabric would complement your red hair coloring,
mon ami
. Take a look at this.”

Bear began examining the fine fabric but the tailor pulled it away and said, “Yes, that is the perfect color for you. The only question is do I have enough fabric for a man of your amazing stature?”

Bear peered over at William, who just rolled his eyes. His brother, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, seemed to be overly enjoying Bear’s discomfort.

Then William stepped forward and joined in. “Monsieur Beaulieu.”

“Oui?”

“Can you make a cravat big enough for Bear’s neck?”

“Oui, Monsieur!”

“I think he needs one made from some of your finest French lace.” William held up a frilly bolt of something Bear didn’t recognize and then his brother eyed Beaulieu. “Agree?”

“Oh oui!
I will make it just so.”

The Frenchman seemed far too delighted at the idea and Bear could tell William was just getting started.

“The cravat should have several rows of lace to frame his ugly face,” William added, amusement flickering in his eyes.

“Oh contraire, Monsieur
. Bear’s face is most magnificent!”

This was getting entirely out of hand. “Ye will make it out of plain white cloth,” Bear said firmly. “And only one wrap around the neck and one knot.” He gave William his best angry bear look.

Monsieur Beaulieu removed a tape measure hanging from his neck and wrapped it around Bear’s waist. “Bear,
mon ami
, your waist is too trim for a man of your size.”

“Not enough pie,” Bear replied. “Sam’s wife Catherine is na much of a cook. I guess because she always had cooks growin’ up.” He looked over
at William. “I predict Sam will hire her a cook before he loses much more weight himself. Did I see a bakery on my way into town?”

“Oui, Monsieur!
And it has excellent pies.”

“While Monsieur Beaulieu is taking your measurements, I’ll go check with the barber to be sure he’s there and give him time to get his razor sharp. He’ll need a keen edge on the blade to take off that beard,” William said. “Come to think of it, he’ll need to sharpen his scissors too. You have enough hair on that big head of yours for ten men.”

Bear could only stare helplessly at the door as William exited.

Chapter 6

T
he horse trader named Burdette, bent over with a shovel in his hands, had his back to Artis. He scooped up a pile of manure and tossed it into a barrel as he cleaned out one of his stalls. Artis counted ten stalls in the livery and from the smell wafting through the air, it would be some time before he finished the unending chore. That particular task had not been much to her liking on the Robert’s plantation, but she enjoyed being around the horses and often took them out for exercise after she’d finished her other duties.

She glanced around, giving the man time to notice her, while she looked over the stalled horses. Most of these likely belonged to someone in town. She would probably have to choose from the horses she saw standing in the large pen she’d passed. She’d spotted a bay mare there that appeared promising.

Burdette finally noticed her. “Oh, hello Miss. I did not see you come in. Welcome. Are you looking to buy or stable a mount today?”

The balding horse trader seemed friendly, smiling at her in an outgoing manner. His relaxed attitude seemed to be one of perpetual merriment. He was considerably shorter than she was and although a smaller middle-aged man, he looked as though he could handle himself when needed.

“Aye. I am in need of purchasin’ a mount, Sir. Commissioner Simmons
assured me that ye would sell me one at a fair price.”

He set his shovel aside. “Indeed. And a woman of your beauty should have a beautiful horse.” He turned up his smile a notch further.

Apparently, Burdette was capable of shoveling out more than manure.

Artis followed him outside.

“I’d recommend a mare for you. They are easier for a woman to handle. I have three for you to choose from—a dun, a spotted white, and a bay.”

She didn’t bother to tell Burdette that she’d exercised several stallions on the plantation, including Roberts’ prized stud horse. But he was right, a mare would be easier to handle.

“Which one has a level head?” Artis asked.

“I’d say they all do,” the man answered, “but the calmest is the bay.”

“I’ll na own a lazy horse.”

“Oh she’s far from lazy. I suspect she’s one of the fastest mares in that pen. She’s just a sweet gal. And a pretty one too, like you. She’ll turn the stallions’ heads.” He laughed as if he’d sincerely amused himself.

She managed a little chuckle. “May I take a closer look?”

“I’ll bring her out.” Burdette grabbed a lead rope and approached the mare.

Artis watched the horse carefully to see if she accepted the rope easily and followed Burdette willingly.

“She’s got nice hips and a full chest,” he said, his eyes on Artis, as he led the mare forward.

Artis wondered if the man was talking about the horse or her.

“She also has excellent feet and sturdy legs. And she reins and stops well. Schooled by one of the area’s best horse trainers. He showed me what he taught her before I bought her. Would you like me to show you?” Burdette offered.

Artis studied Burdette’s eyes. He seemed to be telling the truth. “Nay, that won’t be necessary. I can already tell she’s well trained.”

She lifted her hand to the mare’s nose, letting the animal read her scent, then she gazed into the bay’s large brown eyes. She saw kindness, and just as important, intelligence reflected back at her. A smart horse would be far easier to train and ride.

The bay’s body color, a reddish brown, glowed in the sun’s rays. And her black mane, tail, ear edges, and lower legs made the mare look showy. She ran her hand down the mare’s neck and looked her over thoroughly. As she ran her hand across the mare’s shoulder and chest, she could feel strength in the horse’s muscles. “She seems young. How old is she?”

“Three or four.”

Artis suspected that meant five or six, but the mare was still young at that age.

“How much?”

“Well, she’s an exceptional beauty, but for an exceptionally beautiful young woman like you….”

Artis had put up with the man’s blarney long enough. “I do na want to hear ye flatter me. Just give me that fair price I was promised and be done with it!” She would not be duped by claptrap smooth talk or be taken advantage of by this or any other man.

Burdette hastily named his price and Artis offered to meet his charge if he threw in a good saddle, bridle, and a small bag of oats. “All right, for a woman of your….”

Artis put her hands upon her hips and narrowed her eyes at him.

When he stopped himself and quickly grabbed a saddle, Artis was barely able to keep her amusement from showing on her face.

While Burdette got the mare saddled, Artis stepped back into the stable and reached between her breasts for the handkerchief tucked into her stays. The square of cloth held the coins she’d received from Roberts. The sight
of the pink handkerchief would forever remind her of her mother—her mum truly was a beautiful woman, inside and out. She swallowed her grief. Perhaps because of the way her mum had died, Artis thought she would never be able to think about her mother without feeling an acute sense of loss. Especially since her mother’s murderer probably became a wealthy sheep farmer by now living off the land he stole. When she thought about the despicable man—which occurred without fail every day, sometimes more than once—she was assailed by a terrible bitterness.

She counted out the amount she needed and carefully tucked the rest away again.

“What’ll you name her?” Burdette asked.

“Beautiful.”

Burdette threw back his head and a cackle of laughter burst out.

Artis brought her hand up to stifle her giggle.

Bear sat up, yanked the towel from around his neck, tossed it into his lap, and glared up at the skinny barber. “Och, man, yer takin’ my neck off with the beard,” he grumbled. “Can ye be a wee bit gentler?”

“I’m sorry, Sir, it’s just that you have the thickest neck and beard I’ve ever had to shave. And reddest too, I might add.”

“Well, do na send me to our Maker while yer at it!”

“Calm down, Bear. You’ll make poor Mister Gerhardt nervous and a nervous barber with a well-honed blade is not a good mix,” William said, giving Gerhardt a smile and a wink.

Bear sighed and leaned back again. He tried to make himself relax, but all he could think about was missing the chance to meet a bonnie Scottish lass. What if she left town? He’d never see her again! For some reason, the thought left him feeling an uneasy sense of losing something important. But how could he lose someone he’d never even met?

William insisted on the shave occurring today because he said the skin underneath would be milkywhite and would need a few days to get some color before the Governor’s ball. He also suspected William didn’t want to be seen walking around town with a scruffy brother who looked like a barbarian.

Since Bear couldn’t talk, William took the opportunity to tell him all about the issues the delegates would be discussing starting tomorrow morning. With the occasional comments added by the barber, he heard more than he ever wanted to know about prison reforms, public education, militia restructurings, business subsidies, and legislation favorable to the state's landowners. By the time the barber finished with the shave and the hair wash and cut that followed, Bear had a good understanding of what matters he and the others would need to address.

He paid Gerhardt and gave him a generous tip to compensate for his outburst and the two left to return to William’s office.

As soon as they entered the well-organized and surprisingly clean office, Bear asked, “Did Miss MacKay come by?”

“No, Mister MacKee, she did not,” the deputy answered.

He turned to William. “Perhaps she’s in trouble and needs our help.”

“Bear, she was just going to the Land Office. How much trouble could she get in?”

“She should have been back by now!” Inexplicably, worry filled him. How could he be troubled about someone he’d not even met yet? Could she have met another man? Were they getting to know one another right now over an ale or a meal? A strange feeling he didn’t recognize gripped him. Then he understood what it was—jealousy. How could he possibly be jealous?

Confused, he wandered about the room, head bent in thought. He found it disturbing that a woman he knew nothing about could affect him so.

“Would you feel better if we went and looked for her?” William asked, setting down the papers he’d been looking over.

Bear glanced up, surprised at how relieved he was at the suggestion. “Aye, I think that is a fine idea.”

The two walked out of the Fort and onto the street and swiftly headed toward the Commissioner’s office. When they arrived, they found the door locked, but noticed Simmons walking away.

Bear hurried toward the commissioner as if it were a matter of some urgency and William rushed to keep up with him.

“She concluded her business with me. She mentioned needing a horse, perhaps that’s where she is,” Simmons told them. “I swear, she was the most beautiful woman who ever walked into my office.” The commissioner let out a long sigh and walked away.