Page 11 of The Lady of Red River Valley (Ladies of the Wilderness #2)

Chapter Five

A sharp, northwesterly wind blew against Arran’s back as he rode Tiberius along the shores of the Red River south toward Pembina.

The snow had spit at them on and off during the past four days of travel, but it had started to fall in earnest for the past two hours, collecting quickly on the dips and swells of the prairie.

It was unrelenting as it blew across the open plains and bent the trees along the riverbanks.

The colonists were miserable as they huddled in their canoes, the voyageurs paddling to the pace of fifty strokes per minute.

The adults held their children close to shield them from the bitter wind and freezing snow, but several children cried incessantly, tearing at Arran’s heart.

One of the canoes, near the back of the brigade, had drawn Arran’s attention all day.

Eleanor sat in the middle of the canoe with William West at her side.

She wore the coat the minister had given her, as well as the mittens and moccasins Arran had procured for her from James.

He’d also gifted her wool leggings to wear beneath her dress, but Arran could only assume that she wore those now.

They would offer another layer of warmth and protection from the cold.

He wished he could ease her current suffering, but he admired her for her fortitude and positive attitude each time they had stopped.

She was good with the children, bringing a rare smile to their faces with a story or a simple game.

But it was the adult colonists who she struggled to connect with, though it wasn’t for lack of trying.

She was kind and courteous, offering a smile or a helping hand, or even a word of encouragement.

They were not cruel to her, but they moved around her as if she wasn’t there.

Though she chose not to use her title, everyone knew exactly who she was, and it was clear she did not belong with them.

Not only was she British, but she was an unmarried woman, and an earl’s daughter.

Her position in the young colony was unnecessary, and everyone knew it.

And he was beginning to think that Eleanor realized it now, too.

She glanced up and met his gaze. He did not lower his eyes or turn away from her.

Their conversation the night before they left Fort Douglas had stayed close to his heart, warming him now as much as it had done then, though he tried to fight the feeling.

She wanted to be friends. It was less than he had wanted at the start, but more than he had dreamed of at the end.

Though he knew it wasn’t wise to long for her companionship, they had many long months ahead of them before she would return to England and the thought of enjoying her friendship filled him with more pleasure than it should.

Despite the difficult conditions, Eleanor offered him a gentle smile from the canoe. His heart beat faster, and he smiled back, wanting to reassure her that his words to her were still true. He would be her friend, come what may.

“Fort Daer ahead!” one of the voyageurs called out from the head of the brigade. All the voyageurs lifted their colorful paddles in a celebratory cheer.

Governor Semple was hunched over in the lead canoe, but at the call of arrival, he straightened and looked toward the banks of the river.

The large fort sat on the plains with the Hudson’s Bay Company flag flying proud in the wind.

It had been built three years earlier when the first settlers had arrived in Red River Valley.

Each winter, the colonists had made improvements on the dozens of buildings within.

They would spend about six months in the fort, if the spring came as expected in April, though it could arrive as early as March or as late as May. There was no way of knowing.

Thirty minutes later, the cold and weary travelers stepped out of their canoes and trudged up the banks of the river one last time, met by the voyageurs who inhabited the fort throughout the winter. For many of them, it meant settling into a home for the first time in almost five months.

Fort Daer was similar to Fort Douglas in that it had a commodious governor’s house, a large main hall, a trading post, and a barn.

But there were other small cabins within and without the stockade, built for the settlers.

There would be two or three families to each home.

If the weather was mild, they might build a few more from trees cut along the riverbanks.

While Arran saw to everyone’s living arrangements, Governor Semple, Reverend West, and Eleanor entered the governor’s house with Nicolette and Miriam in tow.

Eleanor had carried the baby in her sling, under her coat, all throughout the journey to Fort Daer, only handing her over to Nicolette when she had stepped from the canoe.

How Eleanor fed the child, or saw to her other needs, Arran wasn’t sure.

He couldn’t imagine how much more difficult the journey would be with a bairn in tow.

He admired her dedication to the small child, though there were few women who would have stepped forward as Eleanor had to care for a baby who was not a relation.

It was yet another reason he admired her, though he saw the exhaustion it had caused her in the lines around her mouth and the dark circles under her eyes.

He hoped she was not becoming sick.

“MacLean,” Semple called out to Arran before walking into his house. “We’ll expect you to bunk with us again. Be sure to join us for supper.”

Arran nodded, then returned to the task at hand.

Several exhausted Kildonians looked from Arran to each other, their eyebrows raised with accusation.

They did not have to speak for him to know what they were thinking.

He was not one of them—one of the British high-and-mighty who had come to save the colony.

He hadn’t considered it at first, but over the past week, he had witnessed enough, and overheard enough, to know what they thought of the governor, minister, and teacher.

Not only were they the first British people to attempt colonizing the Red River Valley, but they lived apart from the Scotsmen in a house four times the size of the cabins ten or twelve people would be forced to share.

Governor Semple and Reverend West served purposes that were necessary to the colonists. Eleanor did not.

The last thing this colony needed was to be divided from within.

Arran could have quartered with his fellow Scotsmen, but it would only encourage the division.

Besides, he was the deputy-governor, and it was his right and responsibility to bridge the gap.

He needed to be near the governor to help oversee the colony, especially since Semple was just as new to the Red River Valley as the others.

But with each passing day, the divide and prejudice would only grow stronger if Arran didn’t address it soon.

It was several hours before he was able to join Eleanor and the others in the governor’s house.

When he did, he brought with him Sean Campbell, the chief factor of the Hudson’s Bay Company post at Fort Daer.

Sean oversaw the voyageurs who wintered in the fort, as well as the trading with the local Indians.

“Ah, Mr. MacLean.” Governor Semple was just about to take a seat at the dinner table. “We were hoping you would join us.”

Arran stepped forward with Sean beside him.

The man was about Arran’s age and had grown up in the fur trade.

His father had been a chief factor and his mother an Indian country wife.

When Sean was old enough, his father had sent him to Montreal to be educated and Sean had returned to the interior to become a clerk, quickly working his way up to managing his own post. “I’d like you to meet Sean Campbell, chief factor here at Fort Daer. ”

Sean’s Indian ancestry was evident in his high cheekbones and dark coloring.

He was a quiet, stoic man who kept to himself.

Arran often struggled to read the man, and though they’d spent countless hours in each other’s company over the past few winters, he did not know where Sean stood on political, religious, or social matters.

But when he spoke, he said exactly what was on his mind, a trait Arran both appreciated and abhorred.

“Welcome to my table, Mr. Campbell,” Governor Semple said.

“It’s an honor to meet you.” Semple would eventually need to travel to most of the posts under his authority.

He had already spoken to Arran about several trips he planned to take over the winter months.

“And may I present our minister and our teacher, Reverend William West and Miss Eleanor Brooke,” Semple said to Sean.

Sean shook West’s hand and then he bowed before Eleanor. His gaze lingered on her. “Your beauty precedes you, Miss Brooke. I had heard about you even before you arrived. I dinna believe the reports, but I see I was wrong.”

Eleanor’s cheeks colored and she offered a gracious smile. “Thank you, Mr. Campbell.”

“Shall we eat?” Arran asked rather abruptly.

“Yes, of course,” Semple said. “Please have a seat.”

There was rubbaboo, fresh biscuits, and ale.

It wasn’t a grand meal, but it was warm and filling, especially after a long day of travel.

Arran nodded his thanks to Nicolette, who hid her shy smile behind her hand.

The baby was in a wicker basket near Nicolette, cooing and babbling as she played with a dried gourd that rattled as she shook it.