Page 30 of The Lady of Red River Valley (Ladies of the Wilderness #2)

Chapter Thirteen

T he first hint of dawn drifted over the prairie in subtle shades of dark pink and purple.

Not a single gust of wind pushed against the tall grass or rustled the leaves of the sparse bushes that dotted the terrain.

Arran watched as the sun slowly lifted itself from its eastern slumber, casting shadows over the dips and rises.

He couldn’t help but wonder what the day would bring.

All was peaceful and quiet—for now. Would it end as it began?

Life started to stir in the fort yard, and soon, one of the voyageurs came to replace Arran in the lookout tower. He could have been replaced hours ago, soon after Eleanor came to speak to him, but he knew he wouldn’t sleep anyway, so he had sent the other man to bed and stayed at his post.

But he could not avoid his other responsibilities forever.

He climbed down the ladder and entered the yard.

The earth was still muddy, with puddles in the low spots.

He would need to report to Governor Semple before he began his work.

Despite the oncoming danger, the voyageurs and company men had planted the crops and gardens before the colonists had returned to Assiniboia, and now they must be weeded and maintained.

Arran would oversee the protection of the colonists as they went into the fields to work.

His eyes were gritty and his head pounded, but he would face the day regardless.

He paused outside the governor’s house and took a deep, steadying breath. The last thing he wanted to do was face Eleanor, especially feeling the way he did, but it could not be helped. He had made his decision and would have to live with it, come what may. It was for the best.

He pushed open the door and stepped into the common room.

Eleanor sat at the table, a bowl of steaming hominy before her. She was feeding Miriam, who sat on her lap. William was across from them, watching, as he also ate. There was a light in his countenance—that dimmed when he met Arran’s gaze.

“You’re just in time to join us for breakfast,” Governor Semple said as Nicolette placed a bowl of hominy in front of him at the head of the table. “Sit. You look like you could use something to eat about now.”

Arran was in no mood to be polite or conversational. His lack of sleep, coupled with his encounter with Eleanor, had left him especially out of sorts. But he couldn’t be rude, so he took a seat across from Semple, with Eleanor to his left and West to his right.

Miriam grinned and clapped her hands when she saw Arran. Her blue eyes sparkled and her four front teeth gleamed when she grinned at him.

Arran’s heart warmed at the enthusiasm of the baby. He smiled back at her, thankful to know that he still could. And then he met Eleanor’s gaze and his smile disappeared.

Her eyelids were swollen and she looked as if she hadn’t slept, either.

Not for the first time, Arran’s resolve threatened to crumble at the look on her face. His love for her was so overpowering, he felt as if he was standing on shifting ground and could be swept away at any moment.

To know she was just as miserable only heightened his pain. Yet, how much more so would she be if she had to witness Arran’s death? He kept reminding himself that this was for the best.

“Mr. West and Miss Brooke have shared exciting news with me this morning,” Semple said as he scooped a spoonful of hominy from his bowl. He looked at West and then said, “Do you mind if I have the honor of telling Mr. MacLean?”

Dread filled Arran, even though he knew this moment was coming. He wanted to get up and escape from hearing the news but knew it wouldn’t make it less true.

“By all means,” West said to Semple.

“William and Eleanor are to be married at York Factory.” Semple grinned. “Isn’t that marvelous news? Though I am sad to see them go, in time, I hope we have more ministers and teachers than we know what to do with.”

The tempest won the battle and Arran felt as if he was being swept out to sea, with no hope of ever returning to solid ground.

But wasn’t this what he had wanted? What he had set into motion? He forced himself to meet West’s gaze. “Congratulations.”

West nodded. “Thank you.”

It was even harder to face Eleanor, though he knew he must. “I hope you’ll be happy,” he said to her, his voice sounding hoarse and unnatural to his ears.

All he could think about was the kiss they had shared the night before.

It was the only thing he’d thought about in the watchtower.

He could still feel the sweetness of her embrace.

“Thank you,” she said just above a whisper, distracting herself with feeding Miriam.

“I think this is cause for a celebration,” Semple said. “Nicolette, do we have any ingredients to make a special dessert for supper? A pie or cake, perhaps?”

Nicolette was rarely addressed, and she paused now, surprise on her aging face. She shook her head.

“Perhaps I’ll stop by the fur post to see if McIntosh has any food supplies he could part with. Some flour and sugar would do just fine.” Semple dipped his spoon back into his hominy, blissfully unaware of the tension ricocheting off the other three tablemates.

Semple continued to blather as Nicolette placed a bowl of hominy in front of Arran.

He had eaten the meal a thousand times since coming to the Red River, but it had never tasted as bland and pasty as it did today.

He had to force himself to eat it, only because he knew he would need the strength.

But the moment it sat heavy in his gut, he stood.

“I will await you in your office,” he said to Semple.

Semple looked up in surprise but nodded. “I will be there shortly.”

Arran left the room without a backward glance. He felt as if his body was moving slower than usual, and his mind was working extra hard to keep up with the events transpiring around him. How would he be of any use to the settlers in the fields today?

With a weary sigh, he took a seat in Semple’s office. As he waited, his eyes grew heavy, and the next thing he knew, Semple was entering.

He must have fallen asleep.

“You look tired,” the older man said to Arran. “Perhaps you should get some sleep before you see to your other responsibilities.”

Arran sat up straighter and wiped his eyes. He shook his head. “I’ll be fine.” He’d gone without sleep before. “I wanted to check in with you before I head to the fields.”

A knock sounded at the door leading outside. Semple had not yet sat, so he went to the door and opened it. James stood on the other side, two Cree Indians behind him.

“May we have a word with you?” James’s face and voice were heavy with unspoken news.

“Of course. Come in.” Semple opened the door wider.

Arran stood, alarm making the hair on the back of his neck rise. He recognized these men. They had come and gone from the fort many times in the past four years to trade furs. Both were considered friends to the Hudson’s Bay Company and were honest in their dealings.

There were not enough chairs in the room, so they stood in a circle.

“What do you have to tell us?” Semple asked.

James shared a look with the two Cree men. All three wore serious expressions.

“We have come to warn the post.” One of the Cree men, known simply as Bill, crossed his arms as he spoke.

He had been educated by missionaries and spoke almost flawless English.

Both men were dressed in clothes similar to those worn by Arran and James, though their Indian heritage was also visible in their long black braids, and the earrings and other jewelry they wore.

“Bois-Br?lés and Nor’westers have made camp at Portage a la Prairie,” Bill said, “and plan to attack in two days’ time. All are armed and mounted.”

In two days? Arran’s heartrate began to accelerate. It would be just enough time for Eleanor and Miriam to leave. Portage a la Prairie was only fifty miles to the west, but Eleanor would be heading due north.

“How many?” Semple asked.

“One hundred, maybe more.”

It was as they had feared. “And is Cuthbert Grant among them?” Arran asked.

Bill nodded. “He leads the men. He vows he will clean out settlement and leave no one.”

“Are you certain?” Semple asked.

Bill nodded, his face grim. “You are friends,” he said, looking from one man to the next. “I warn you to be ready.”

“Thank you.” Arran wished he could say more, but what else was there?

“We go.” Bill motioned for his friend to follow.

James opened the door, but he did not leave with them. Instead, he came back inside.

“What will we do?” he asked Arran and Semple.

All Arran could think about was Eleanor and Miriam. They must leave today, if possible. “You must not wait to go,” Arran said to Semple. “You must leave for York Factory today.”

Semple frowned. “Leave? Now? I cannot leave the fort when I know there is imminent danger.”

Panic seized Arran. “There has always been imminent danger.”

“Until now, it was only rumors. You heard the man. Cuthbert Grant is only fifty miles to our west, with over a hundred armed and mounted men with him. I could not leave my post now, no matter how pressing my business in York Factory.”

“But what of Eleanor’s and West’s plans to leave?”

“They will have to stay and help protect the fort.”

It was impossible. Arran could not allow it. “They are innocent.”

“As are we all.” Semple took a seat behind his desk. “None of the settlers deserve this treatment. We will put a stop to it once and for all time.”

He was right, none of them deserved it, but the only two truly defenseless people were Eleanor and Miriam.

All the other women and children had husbands and fathers to offer protection.

Arran had to do what he could for the woman and child he loved.

There had to be some way to get them out of Assiniboia.

“I will gather a group of voyageurs to oversee their journey.”