Page 21 of The Lady of Red River Valley (Ladies of the Wilderness #2)
While Eleanor retrieved a tin cup, Miriam used Arran’s legs to pull herself to her feet. She wobbled and he placed his hand behind her, to catch her if she fell.
The front door opened and Semple appeared with West and Robertson close behind him. West had been called to a nearby settlement to perform a funeral for one of the residents and Semple had left with Robertson earlier to see to one of the settlement horses that had become lame.
West stopped at the sight of Arran and Miriam on the floor together.
Despite several attempts on Eleanor’s part, the minister had not grown close to his daughter.
He had held her, on occasion, but had quickly given her back when the child showed any fear or discomfort from being in his arms. Arran didn’t blame the baby. She hardly knew her father.
“When you have a minute,” Semple said to Arran, one brow raised, “I would like to speak to you and Mr. Robertson in my office.”
Arran set Miriam on her bottom and then rose from the floor. He caught Eleanor’s eye, to make sure she knew he was no longer minding the baby, then he followed Semple and Robertson into his office.
Closing the door, Arran took a seat across the desk from the governor.
There was heaviness around both Semple and Robertson, and Arran braced himself for whatever news they might deliver.
Over the past few months, they had had many conversations about the growing numbers at Qu’Appelle, and what they planned to do to combat the North West Company’s aggression.
He was certain they wanted to discuss their plans once again.
“I have received a missive from Lord Selkirk today.” Governor Semple pulled the letter from inside his coat and laid it on the desk for Arran to see. “It arrived just now from a coureur de bois.”
The coureurs were voyageurs who were adept at crossing great distances, at amazing speeds. In the spring, summer, and fall, they went by canoe, and in the winter, they used cariole sleds and dog teams. Arran took the paper into his hands and began to read.
“He arrived in New York this fall and made his way to Montreal before winter set in,” Semple explained, though Arran could plainly read the words Selkirk had written. “He plans to leave for Assiniboia as soon as the weather permits.”
“When he wrote the letter,” Robertson added, “he was in the process of making an appeal to the Governor-General of Canada, Sir Gordan Drummond. He is asking to obtain men to protect him on his journey.”
“The opposition from the North West Company in Montreal has been trying his patience,” Semple continued. “He is meeting with difficulty from every side, including the government, because the Nor’westers hold such power and authority in eastern Canada.”
“He has heard about our troubles with Duncan Cameron,” Robertson said next. “And he agrees that we must rout him out of Assiniboia as soon as possible.”
Just as Arran and Robertson had wanted to do last fall, before they came to Pembina.
“Perhaps, if Cameron is gone,” Semple added, “we will see the last of our trouble.”
“If only it was that simple.” Arran read through Selkirk’s words, finding them exactly as Semple and Robertson reported.
“I have made a decision.” Semple clasped his hands on his desk as he regarded Arran. “Robertson and I will take two dozen voyageurs back to Assiniboia this month. We will surprise Cameron and apprehend him.”
“I will then take Cameron to York Factory in Hudson Bay,” Robertson told Arran. “To await a ship to bring him to trial in England.”
Arran nodded, approving of the plan. “It will not pay to bring him to trial in Montreal,” he agreed. “They will never convict him of his crimes there.”
“He will be forced to answer to the crown in England.” Semple leaned back in his chair, a gleam of victory in his eyes. “I’ve also decided to dismantle Fort Gibraltar.”
Alarm thrummed in Arran’s veins as he stared at Semple. “Dismantle the North West Company’s fort? For what purpose?”
“To show them they have no right to be in this country.”
Arran glanced at Robertson. From the look on Robertson’s face, it was clear he did not like the plan, either.
“It is almost impossible to remove the North West Company from Rupert’s Land.
” Arran tried to speak as plainly as he could to the governor.
“They are just as powerful as the Hudson’s Bay Company—and they also have the aid of the Bois-Br?lés.
In their minds, this land belongs to whomever takes possession of it.
They care not for the crown or the Royal Charter. ”
“Then they are wrong.”
“It matters not. I agree we need to remove Duncan Cameron, and if we can get Cuthbert Grant, it will weaken their resolve—but it will not stop them. Only power and force will win this battle.”
“I disagree.” Semple crossed his arms. “Fort Gibraltar is an affront to His Majesty the King. It must be destroyed to send a strong message to all the other North West Company posts in Rupert’s Land. As soon as Cameron is apprehended, we will dismantle his fort.”
Frustration knotted in Arran’s chest. Semple was new to Rupert’s Land, and he could not possibly understand the deep-seated beliefs in the hearts and minds of its people.
He understood the monarchy and the supreme power and authority of the king.
But there was no law governing the Red River Valley, because there were not enough of the king’s men to enforce that law.
It would take an entire army to gain control of Rupert’s Land.
Semple would make a grave mistake in destroying their fort, just as Governor Macdonell had made when he signed the Pemmican Proclamation.
“Sir,” Arran said, coming to the edge of his seat, “I must beseech you not to destroy Fort Gibraltar. It will only incense the Nor’westers and strengthen the fury of the Bois-Br?lés.”
“I disagree, MacLean.” Semple rose, indicating their interview was over. “Robertson and I will make plans to leave as soon as this storm clears. When the weather permits, MacLean, you will see that the settlers return to Assiniboia to start farming. That is all.”
Arran stared in disbelief. Wasn’t it his job to advise the governor?
He had given him wise counsel, yet Semple did not even take it into account.
Arran did not respond but left the governor’s office with Robertson close behind.
He closed the office door, and they walked across the room.
When they reached the front door, Robertson stopped and faced Arran.
“You must prevent him from destroying Fort Gibraltar,” Arran said quietly. “Nothing good can come from removing the Nor’wester’s post.”
Robertson’s countenance was heavy as he nodded. “Aye. I’ll do all I can to stop him.”
With those final words, Robertson took his leave.
Arran watched him cross the fort yard and enter one of the cabins, his mind on the dire consequences of dismantling Fort Gibraltar.
Somehow, before the governor left, Arran would have to convince him it was a mistake.
Late afternoon sunshine warmed Eleanor’s shoulders and melted the snow all around her.
Mud caked the bottom of her moccasins and made walking across the fort yard almost impossible, but there was little that could dampen her spirits on such a fine spring day.
March had arrived and, with it, an early thaw.
A song played in her heart as she opened the main hall’s doors and entered the large room.
In under an hour, the building would be brimming with her students and their families to enjoy an evening of fun.
It would begin with a great feast—because the Indians had finally brought buffalo meat to the fort—and end with a spelling bee, which the children had been preparing for the past few weeks.
Eleanor took off her bonnet and set it on a hook near the door.
She also removed her spencer and set it there, as well.
It had been days since she’d been forced to wear her heavy Hudson’s Bay coat.
The weather had changed so abruptly after the last storm, the Red River was beginning to swell at an alarming rate from the melting snow.
Before she began preparing the room for the evening, she removed her moccasins and slipped on her half-boots. Though the leather moccasins were comfortable, she felt more like herself in the boots.
A figure in the fort yard caught Eleanor’s attention, making her pulse tick against her wrists and bringing a smile to her face.
Arran MacLean was hard to miss among the settlers. Taller than most, and with a commanding stance, he was easy to identify. He walked toward the school with a purposeful stride, and she found herself running a hand over her hair to make sure all the pieces were in place.
With the warmer weather, the men were busy chopping trees along the riverbanks, which took him away from the house in the morning and kept him away until supper. To see him now, unexpectedly, sent butterflies fluttering in her midsection. She hadn’t thought she’d see him until the others arrived.
He opened the door and caught her gaze. He smiled and tipped his hat at her. The simple gesture warmed her through. She tried desperately to quell the feeling, but it was almost impossible.
“What brings you here so early?” she asked.
He openly admired her. “Is that a new dress?”
She had put on one of her prettier dresses, though it wasn’t as fine as her pink silk ball gown. A bit self-conscious, she lifted the hem of the green empire-style frock and looked down at herself. “It’s not new, but I haven’t worn it here.”
Heat warmed his gaze. “You’re a bonnie sight to behold. It makes me think I should have worn something a little nicer.”
Eleanor shook her head quickly. “You look very fine.”
It wasn’t the words so much but the way she’d said them that made her cheeks become hot.
Arran smiled, probably more at her discomfort than her compliment.
“I thought to come early and help you prepare,” he said, clearly changing the subject to spare her embarrassment.