Page 14 of The Lady of Red River Valley (Ladies of the Wilderness #2)

Chapter Six

I t took a few days to settle into a routine at Fort Daer.

When the storm subsided, and the temperatures rose again, Arran led a group of men to the riverbanks to fell the trees they’d use for firewood and for building more cabins.

It was hard work, but it gave the men something to do, and it kept Arran’s mind busy.

Or, at least, that’s what he told himself.

Having Eleanor within the stockade was both a blessing and a curse.

She brought gentleness and grace to the governor’s house that he’d never known in all the winters he’d been in the Red River Valley.

Her lyrical voice filled the rooms with laughter and joy, and she added a unique perspective to the conversations around mealtimes.

He loved seeing the land and climate through her unbiased eyes, and he enjoyed the touches of elegance she added, just by her presence.

She was intelligent and wise, and when they spoke of political or religious matters, she never shied away from voicing her opinions.

She and West engaged in theological debates almost nightly, though neither one was ever unkind to the other.

Arran contemplated their points of view and even added his own from time to time, though it was the simple act of listening that he enjoyed the most.

But having her in the fort also meant that he was constantly reminded of her.

It was almost maddening how often his mind drifted to Eleanor.

It distracted him from important conversations, it hindered his decision-making, and it made him forgetful.

But worst of all, there were times when he was so consumed with thoughts of her that he wanted nothing more than to drop his work and seek her out, just to see her smile.

Four days after arriving at Fort Daer, Arran had one of those moments.

The temperature had risen so drastically, the snow had begun to melt, causing large puddles of mud to fill the fort yard.

Sunshine warmed his back and face as he walked toward the main hall, his musket over his shoulder.

The men were still felling logs near the riverbanks, but he had left them on the pretense of attending a meeting with Governor Semple.

It wasn’t a complete falsehood, since he planned to talk to the governor about Semple’s upcoming trip, though the meeting could have waited until after supper.

Eleanor had officially opened the school that morning and he’d spent the entire day wondering how things were going for her. She had spent hours preparing her lessons and he was eager to see if she was pleased with the results.

The windows of the main hall were open to allow in the fresh air and warmer weather.

A long, low porch covered the front of the building and Arran took the steps up to the porch now.

He stood just outside one of the windows where he could hear a child reciting his numbers.

When he missed one, Eleanor did not scold him but gently corrected his mistake and then patiently listened as he began again.

A smile lifted the corner of his mouth. She was born to teach. Her patience and gentleness were a gift from God, he was certain. He would never have the grace to spend an entire day in a room full of children and teach them their sums.

After a few moments, the child finished his recitation, and Eleanor told him to return to his seat.

“That will be all for today, children,” she said with a smile in her voice. He could not see her from where he stood, but he imagined her standing in her blue dress, her hair piled on top of her head in a mass of curls. “Class dismissed.”

He stepped aside as the door opened a moment later.

Two children, both with bright blond hair, walked out the door and headed across the muddy fort toward a cabin close to the governor’s house. It was the cabin the Fergusons were living in so Mrs. Ferguson could be close at hand to feed Miriam.

Arran waited for more children to leave, but there was no one else. Surprised, he opened the door wider and found Eleanor organizing a stack of books on one of the tables. She looked up and he immediately saw what she had been hiding from her voice.

Disappointment.

“It was just Fiona’s two children,” she said as she bit the inside of her mouth, as if she was trying to remain composed. “No one else came.”

Frustration built in his chest for her. She had put so much effort into her preparations. “I’m sorry, lass.”

“There are twenty-three children in the colony,” she said.

“And all but six of them are appropriate ages for school. I should have had seventeen children here today.” She lifted her hands.

“Where are they? It’s winter, the perfect time to devote to their studies.

What else could they possibly be doing?”

He suspected she already knew the answer to her question.

“It will take time for you to gain their trust.” He stepped into the building and set his musket against a table.

“They’ve known me for many months now but will not even speak to me.”

“How did you gain Fiona’s friendship and trust?”

“I asked her for help.”

“Mayhap the others see you as self-sufficient. They want to be needed. Every day, they rely upon one another for their very lives. It bonds them together in a way nothing else can. In their minds, you are above such things. Removed.”

Her eyes filled with sadness. “I’m not above such things. I have many needs. At the moment, I’m in great need of friends and students.”

“Then let them know that.”

“How?”

Arran walked between the tables and looked down at a stack of books. There were not many in the colony, though she had brought some of her own. “Visit with them. Go to their homes. Ask they what they need.”

“They need a school.”

“What they need is food, water, and shelter. A school is a privilege and a luxury.”

“But it’s right here, ready and waiting for them.”

“Most of them have never had the privilege of an education and they’ve gotten along just fine. They probably don’t think their children need one, either. In their minds, all their children need to know is how to survive. Change their mind. Explain what education can do for them.”

She was quiet for a moment as she nodded silently. “I’ve had a very privileged life. It’s hard for me to understand their needs. I will visit them and ask Fiona for ways I can help, beyond the school.”

And he would find a way to encourage the colonists to trust Eleanor. They just needed to get to know her to realize she truly wanted what was best for them.

“I must meet with Semple,” he said, though he hated to pull himself away from her. He had hoped that simply seeing her for a moment would ease the longing in his chest, but it didn’t.

“I am going to straighten things up a bit more and then go to Miriam.” Her words were tinted with a bit of sadness. “This is the longest I’ve spent away from her since she was born.”

“You’ve grown to love her, haven’t you?”

She nodded, though it wasn’t joy he saw in her eyes, but concern. “More than I think I should. I’ve become quite attached to her, I’m afraid.”

“Is that bad?”

“I’m uncertain what William intends to do with her. Whenever I ask him, he doesn’t want to discuss it. At first, I understood his hesitancy, because he was in mourning. But Miriam is over four months old. He will need to make permanent plans soon.”

“What are his options? Is there someone in England to raise her?”

Eleanor shook her head. “He says there is no one.”

“Then mayhap he’ll marry again.” Even as the words slipped out of his mouth, Arran wanted to recall them.

Who might the minister choose to marry among the women in his current acquaintance?

Eleanor would be the obvious choice—and the preferable one.

Not only was she a fellow Brit, but she was also beautiful, accomplished, and faithful.

Besides all those things, she already loved West’s child as her own.

It was only a matter of time before West realized it himself, if he hadn’t already. Would Eleanor consider such a thing?

“He was very much in love with his wife,” Eleanor offered as an explanation. “I doubt he’ll marry again.”

Arran would not disagree with her, though he wanted to.

Marriage wasn’t a privilege in a colony such as theirs.

It was a necessity. Love had little to do with such things.

But the sooner he stopped discussing West and his marriage options, the better.

“I must go,” Arran said instead. “Semple is expecting me.”

Eleanor smiled in farewell and Arran took his musket in hand as he left the main hall.

He should be thinking about the Bois-Br?lés who were probably gathering in Qu’Appelle, or the fact that there had been no buffalo spotted on the plains yet, or even planning for Semple’s departure.

But instead, his mind was preoccupied with Eleanor’s need for students, and both her and West’s apparent blindness at the answer to their problems. William West would need a wife, and Eleanor would need a future—something tangible she could cling to when things became difficult.

He didn’t foresee either West or Eleanor surviving in the colony long.

Both would soon tire of the hardships and long for their lives in England. He’d seen it countless times before.

And when that day came, they’d be together. He felt it in his bones.

By the time Arran reached the door of the governor’s house, his good mood had soured, and he was scowling, though he told himself he was being a fool. He had accepted long ago that he couldn’t marry Eleanor and that some other man would get that privilege.

He just didn’t realize how much he would dislike knowing who that man might be.

Fiona Ferguson stepped out of the governor’s house and met Arran’s scowl with a smile. Arran had discovered she came to the house several times a day to feed Miriam. They were cordial to one another, but they’d never had a reason to speak.

Until today.