Wilderness Trail of Love (American Wilderness Series Romance Book 1) by Dorothy Wiley

ever do. But my father taught me not to shirk from something just because it was hard—because most everything that’s important is difficult. That’s the way life is. That’s not what is holding me back. I am worried about the girls. How could I live with myself if something happens to them on the trail?”
    “They are not out of danger here. Bomazeen is as clever as Lucifer. He’ll find a way to pay you back—maybe by stealing more than one of your daughters. Heaven forbid they did die on the Wilderness Trail, it would be better than being a slave.”
    She looked away hastily, then moved restlessly around the room, finally picking up Stephen’s favorite book. She added it to the stack of items they would take. “Perhaps you’re right. The thought of him trying to steal Martha again makes my heart shake. Even the toughest life is better than slavery.”

    “Are they going?” Sam asked, the minute Stephen returned later that day.
    “William and John are joining us,” Stephen answered, dismounting, “but not Edward. He thinks we’re making a mistake.”
    “That’s Edward’s problem,” Sam snarled, “he thinks too damn much.”
    “If you and Bear are willing, we leave in two days,” he said, as he led George to the barn.
    “Good. It’s time to stop lathering and start shaving,” Sam said.
    Stephen wondered if Sam was trying to appear confident or if he really had no doubts.
    As they walked back toward the house, he heard Jane call out, “Stew’s ready and the biscuits are hot. Please dust off your boots before you gentlemen come inside.”
    “Don’t let Bear eat my biscuits,” Sam yelled back, used to competing for food with his brothers.
    “I made an extra pan full just for you,” Jane answered.
    That was smart. He had seen Sam eat a dozen biscuits at a sitting.
    “Jane, you’re an angel here on earth,” Sam said, climbing the porch steps two at a time and then throwing the door open.
    “If she’s an angel, then God must have his hands full,” Stephensaid, wiping some flour off her face. Even in an apron covered with food stains, she was a vision.
    Jane swatted him with her dishtowel, but she still gave him a big smile.
    Stephen sat at the head of their old pine table, the tantalizing sight of steaming stew, hot biscuits, fresh butter, and a cobbler, all making his mouth water.
    “Bear, sit here beside Stephen and Sam sit across from Bear. We’ll put the girls down here by me. Martha, put the butter over there by Uncle Sam. You know how he likes to butter up his biscuits,” Jane said.
    “I don’t know why you have to make a biscuit soggy with butter before you can eat it,” Stephen complained. “You ought to just eat the thing the way God made them.”
    “God didn’t make the biscuits, Jane did,” Sam said.
    “I remember eatin’ some of Stephen’s wee biscuits on one of our first hunting trips. As hard and as flat as horseshoes,” Bear said, then threw back his head and laughed.
    “Why do you think I married Jane? It wasn’t just because she was the prettiest woman in New Hampshire, it was her biscuits,” Stephen said.
    All the girls giggled, even baby Mary.
    “Mommy, Bear let me ride with him on his new horse today. He looks like the camel in the drawing in the Bible,” Amy said.
    “Who? The horse or Bear?” Stephen asked in jest.
    “The horse, silly,” Amy answered.
    “Camel. You know that would be a fitting name for that bigdun,” Sam said.
    Stephen had thought the horse had an oddly large head, but hadn’t said anything to Bear about it. A man can be sensitive when it comes to his horse.
    “Les call him Camel. Would that be okay with you Bear?” Amy asked.
    “Aye, wee princess. We’ll call him Camel, but only because ye named him,” Bear said, looking at Sam.
    “The Bible says the camels carried wise men,” Martha said.
    “That makes the name even more ideal,” Stephen said.

    “Stephen, I want Sam and Bear to take the girls into town till we’re