Read Trail of Hope (Tales of the Scrimshaw Doll) Online
Authors: Heidi Vanlandingham
Tags: #Multicultural
Trail of Hope (Tales of the Scrimshaw Doll)
Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
Trail of Hope
by
Heidi Vanlandingham
Tales of the Scrimshaw Doll
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Trail of Hope
COPYRIGHT © 2013 by Heidi L. Vanlandingham
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by
Debbie Taylor
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First American Rose Edition, 2013
Digital ISBN 978-1-61217-732-8
Tales of the Scrimshaw Doll
Published in the United States of America
Praise for
TRAIL OF HOPE
“
TRAIL OF HOPE
” is about good vs. evil and characters with the strength and resilience to overcome adversity in a hopeless world. Heidi Vanlandingham weaves these elements together in a vivid, beautifully written love story you won’t want to miss.”
~Alicia Dean, author of
Soul Seducer
and
Thicker than Water
(from the Tales of the Scrimshaw Doll series)
~*~
“Debut author Heidi Vanlandingham richly captures historic details in this exciting romance about a woman who only wants a family and a man sworn to vengeance. As they struggle to survive the Trail of Tears, their journey becomes a trail of hope. Vanlandingham is a terrific new voice.”
~Silver James, author of
Faerie Fate
,
Faerie Fire
,
Faerie Fool
, and the Moonstruck series
Dedication
I owe my writing group a huge thanks
for brainstorming this idea,
and an even greater thanks goes to my parents
for introducing me to Louis L’Amour.
I also have to thank Silver James—
the best critique partner I could ever have wished for!
Chapter One
Savannah, Georgia 1838
Sophia Deveraux jerked awake. Her nightmare disappeared, but she found herself in the middle of another. Three men surrounded her small bed.
Terror exploded in her chest and a scream dislodged inside her throat as a large, beefy hand pulled her from the warm haven of her bed. The flickering light of the fireplace had died down, its still-smoldering embers now unable to give off more heat, but with the full moon’s brightness through the thin curtains at the window she could see all too well, and cold shivers skittered down her back.
Behind the large figure standing at the end of her mattress and the man holding her, she made out another darkened form among the inky shadows. A painful gasp scraped down her throat when the moon’s glow momentarily brightened. The dark shadows recoiled and the man’s pinched features came into focus.
She swallowed her next breath, its sharp trail searing a path to her chest and constricting it in a tightening vise.
The man’s slight frame advanced toward her, and she tried scooting back, her frantic motion stopped by the arms holding her and the flat-paneled wood of the headboard. Small tingles of dread bit across her chilled skin, then turned into large spikes. The man who’d attacked her only a couple of hours earlier now stood in her room. Major Adrian Todd.
“Well, my dear, I warned you. Didn’t I? I
always
get what I want,” his thin, reedy voice taunted.
Sophia gathered what little courage she possessed and spit in his face. The major’s gloved hand whipped upward and struck her. The sharp
splat
against her cheek echoed in the small bedroom. The force of the hit threw her head sideways against the headboard, and for a few seconds her vision doubled. Pain ripped through her lip, and she tasted the bitter copper flavor of blood filling her mouth. The only sound in the quiet room was her own strangled cry as it filled her ears.
I will not cry. I will not cry
.
Where is everyone? Father, Sally, Mamma Lou—someone should have been here by now.
She mentally shook herself, trying to stop the fluttery tremors as their force moved her slight form and delivered a new onslaught of fear, for her family as well as for herself. She pinched a tiny bit of skin on her thigh, the sharp pain immediately cutting through the fear, and she was able to focus on the possibility of escape.
Major Todd jerked her against him and hissed in her ear, “You will learn better manners when we are married, my dear Ms. Deveraux.”
“I will
never
be your wife. I’d rather wallow with pigs!” she returned, her fear fueling her anger. She pulled as far away from him as his tight grip would allow. The cold, abrasive look in his eyes caused her heart to stutter painfully inside her chest, and she knew she was in trouble. “You are a commissioned officer—the Army won’t let you get away with this.” She silently lectured herself that now was not the time to cry.
“You wish to live with dirty animals? Then I have the perfect place for you, dear Sophia.” He walked from her room, stopping in the middle of the hallway to turn and sneer down his self-righteous nose. “I
can
and
will
‘get away with it,’ as you so succinctly put it. General Scott believes me to be a good soldier and would never question my honor.” He motioned for the soldiers holding her to move her forward, placing her at his side. He pinched her trembling chin between his fingers and pulled her head up. “And love is an honorable notion. Is it not?” His grin turned her stomach upside down. “You would do anything for your father, so I suggest you display those proper manners your mother so painstakingly tried to teach you. Otherwise…” He chuckled.
Fear for her father’s safety conquered the roar of anger that raged through her as the men jerked her into step behind the major. Stumbling down the grand staircase to the foyer that would lead them outside, she pulled back against the guards, knowing she had to try something, anything, to get away.
But at the bottom of the stairs the open door of the library caught her eye. Considering the room his private domain, her father would never leave the door open. As the soldiers dragged her forward, she saw her father—tied to a chair, his arms bent backward at an awkward angle, his sleeves torn and bloody. His head raised only long enough for their eyes to meet before it slumped forward again, and a pained cry tore through her compressed lips. She was seeing her father for the last time.
Shocked and dazed, she let her captors easily pull her onto the front portico. The numbness spreading over her was a welcome relief, and it was only through a haze that a loud commotion drew her attention toward the end of the street, where a group of soldiers on horseback were shouting. The cracking of their whips sounded in the distance. The slaves’ answering screams completed her downward spiral into exhaustion, and she slumped forward in a dead faint.
Chapter Two
Hunger pains gnawed at the inside of Sophia’s shrunken stomach. And she stunk. Her dirt wore dirt, and it stunk. She gazed across the crowded, bleak courtyard of her prison. She hated this place. Fort Wool. She stared into the blank faces of the maltreated Indians inching their way around the too-small area. So many
whys
pushed through her mind and finally stopped on the one closest to her—she still didn’t understand Major Todd’s actions. Why bring her here? Just because she said she’d rather be with pigs? Was that what he thought of these people?
She drew in a deep breath, trying not to gag from the stench of unwashed bodies. They might smell bad, but these were people, and yes, she would rather be with them. Even though the number of the fort’s inhabitants diminished daily, they continued to treat her well. Especially Martin. Over the last few months, the elderly Indian had been like a grandfather to her. Or what she imagined a grandfather would be like if she’d ever known one. Nothing about these people was as she’d been taught.
Now that late summer had arrived, the heat had turned their squalid living space into a giant oven. With little food, no water, and unsanitary living conditions, each day was worse than the last. The growing mound of bodies in one corner of the fort was a constant reminder of just how dire their situation was. Sophia turned away from the gruesome omen and searched through the crowd of listless bodies until she found Martin sitting against the far wall.
She carefully picked her way across the courtyard until she stood beside him. With no care for the tiny ants scurrying through the loose sand, she dropped down next to him and crossed her legs as the Indians did, a surprisingly comfortable position. “Martin? Why are we still here?” Her voice broke on the last word, chopping the
r,
making it harsher than usual. She was thankful when Martin seemed not to notice her frustration and answered her in his usual calm manner.
“One of the better guards told me our departure is changed to avoid the hot weather. I did not want you to worry more, so I said nothing.”
Sophia sighed. “I was afraid of that. You’ve been too cheerful.” She put her arm through his and tucked her fingers into his balled fist. “I’m not a little child, so please don’t treat me like one.” A small smile tugged at one side of her mouth, and she bumped him gently with her shoulder. “I can handle more than you think, so please tell me why the Cherokee are here, forced to leave their homes.”
“Because our land is good land and the white settlers want it. Several tribes are already resettled. My best friend Strong Eagle and his family were forced to go with them. I miss my friend.”
She watched his gaze shift from hers to the empty space over her shoulder. Squeezing his hand, she pressed him for more answers. “Is that why everyone is here in the fort? These soldiers are moving you too?”
He nodded, and several minutes passed before he continued. “My wife and I were brought here with everyone else.”
Raising her hand, she interrupted as he started to continue, her brows drawn together in confusion. “Your wife? Why haven’t I met her?” She followed his gaze to the mound of bodies. She closed her eyes for a moment, wishing she could take back the question, then allowed his palpable sadness to wash over her as she touched his hand, looking into his face. “Martin, I am so very sorry.”
He shrugged. “She was sick for a while. We knew it was only a matter of time.”
She wanted to comfort him, to at least say something to ease his obvious heartache, but she couldn’t find the words. Thankfully, he changed the subject to something less painful, although she wasn’t sure it was better.
Martin sadly patted her knee. She wasn’t sure whether he was trying to comfort her or himself. “The Ani’Yun’wiya have lived and cared for these lands many lifetimes—and now we have to give our homes to the white settlers. President Jackson said the move was for the tribe’s protection.”
“So that’s why.” She inhaled. “But I still don’t understand. Protection from what? And the Ani-
who
?”
Martin growled, his gravelly voice harsh in the late afternoon’s stillness. “The white men want what the land provides.” His lip curled with disgust, and his eyes narrowed into small slits within his weathered face. “They are not interested in its care but in its riches—gold.” Sophia’s eyebrows furrowed together as several more questions occurred to her, but she pressed her lips together and remained silent.