Page 32 of The Lady of Red River Valley (Ladies of the Wilderness #2)
Chapter Fourteen
I t was almost suppertime as Arran paced, waiting for the blacksmith, Michael Heden, to replace Tiberius’s shoe.
Earlier that day, Arran had ridden his horse to Colony Gardens to tell the settlers who had chosen to return to their homes to come to the fort, and a nail had come through Tiberius’s hoof.
Some of the settlers had listened to Arran’s warning, but others had been stubborn and refused to leave.
The entire fort had been on high alert all day. At any moment, Arran expected the call to come from the watchtower. He just hoped Tiberius would be ready.
“Mayhap the Cree were wrong,” James said to Arran as he leaned against the wall of the blacksmith shop, chewing on a piece of straw.
“They could have been sent as a false warning,” Archie Currie added, spitting out a toothpick he’d been gnawing on. “Fear is a powerful weapon. Mayhap they thought the settlers would be easier to control if they had a couple days of fear to wear on them.”
“They’re coming,” Arran said, certain the Cree were not wrong. “But anything could have happened to put them off by a day or more.”
“I hope they all drowned.” Archie crossed his arms. “Serve them right.”
“I would feel better if the settlers would come into the fort tonight.” Arran had tried several times to convince them it was foolish to stay in Colony Gardens, but they were a stubborn lot.
Inside the smithy, the sound of a hammer beat a steady tune. Overhead, the sky was bright blue, with nary a cloud in sight. The air was warm but not stifling. It would be a perfect evening to sleep under the stars, if they had not been in danger.
With little else to do but wait, West and Semple had spent most of the day inside the governor’s house.
Arran had no desire to spend more time with Eleanor than necessary, so he had stayed outside.
He wasn’t sure if he would join them for supper, not only because he had no appetite, but because it was torture to see Eleanor and West together.
The hammering in the smithy subsided and a couple moments later, Heden led Tiberius out by his reins.
“Thank you,” Arran said to Heden. “He looks—”
“Riders approaching!” A shout came from the southwestern watchtower. Ben, the boy who often helped in the barns, had volunteered to watch the prairie during the day shift. He pointed there now. “Riders approaching!”
Arran’s heartrate escalated. “Archie, tell Semple to join us immediately.”
“Aye.”
After quickly securing Tiberius’s reins to a post, Arran rushed up the ladder into the watchtower, James on his heels.
“Here.” Ben handed Arran a spyglass the moment he stood at the top of the tower. He pointed to a distant location, which was hard to see with the naked eye. “They’re approaching from the west and headed a bit north.”
Arran frowned. “Why would they be heading north?”
Ben shrugged while Arran placed the spyglass to his eye. They were a blip on the prairie, but with the glass he could make out at least fifty riders. From where Arran stood, it appeared to be a band of Indians—but were they friend or foe?
It didn’t make any sense. They were expecting Cuthbert Grant and the Bois-Br?lés—why would Indians be on the move?
“Aye.” Arran nodded and handed the spyglass to James. “They’re heading north of here.”
Semple appeared outside his house, West close behind. They ran across the fort yard toward the tower.
“Let’s meet Semple below,” Arran said to James. “We should be able to see the riders from the fort gate, just as easily as up here.”
Arran and James made their way to the ground as Semple and West, along with about two dozen other men, gathered near the fort gate. Archie Currie and Angus Ferguson were among the familiar faces.
“What’s happening?” Semple asked Arran.
“It appears to be a band of Indians, from what I can tell,” Arran said.
James handed the spyglass over to the governor. “They’re heading to the north and east.”
Archie and another company man, John Burke, opened the western gate.
Everyone followed Semple, who lifted the spyglass to his eye, his mouth hanging open slightly as he studied the riders.
When he took the glass away, he frowned.
“I cannot begin to guess why Indians would be riding so close to the fort, and at such a speed.”
“Perhaps they are chasing buffalo?” West offered helpfully.
“Not the right season,” Arran said, “or so close to the fort.”
“It doesn’t look like they intend to attack, at any rate.” Semple closed the spyglass. “But I think we had better take a group of men and meet up with them to see what they are about.”
“They’re making to the settlers!” Ben called down to them from where he remained in the lookout tower. “And the settlers are running this way!”
Semple fumbled to put the spyglass up to his eye again. “The boy’s right. It looks like they’ve shifted course just a bit.”
“Do you think the Bois-Br?lés have incited the Indians against us?” Angus Ferguson asked.
“We will not know until we speak to them.” Semple nodded decisively. “We need to make all haste to intercept them and see what they want.”
Did Semple expect to reason with them? If they had been hired by the Bois-Br?lés to make war against the settlement, there would be no talking to them.
Semple addressed the men standing near. “I would like about two dozen men who are willing to go, the rest must stay to defend the fort. Who will go with me?”
At least twenty men raised their hands—including West.
“Let’s be on our way, then.” Semple started toward the barn, where the horses were waiting.
West began to follow, but Arran put his hand on the minister’s shoulder. “I dinna think you should ride along with us.”
William West turned to face Arran, a frown wedged between his eyebrows. “Do you not think I’m capable?”
“It’s not a matter of your ability.” Arran nodded toward the governor’s house. “You should stay behind to help protect the women and children.”
“Governor Semple wishes to speak with these men,” West said calmly. “I may not be a man of war, but I do have a way with words. If anyone should help the governor reason with these brigands, then it should be me.”
“I think you’d be better suited here, with Eleanor and Miriam. We dinna ken if this is a ploy to get the best men out of the fort, so Cuthbert Grant can attack from a different direction. We will need able-bodied men to stay and defend the fort.”
“Then perhaps you should stay.” West was not a bold man, neither was he loud or brash, but steel filled his countenance now, and he would not be persuaded. “I know where I am best suited. Semple will need my help for negotiations, if it comes to that.”
Arran’s jaw tightened and the muscles in his cheeks twitched. “I’d rather you stayed for Eleanor and Miriam’s sake. If something happens to both of us, where will that leave them?”
A hint of uncertainty flitted through West’s gaze, but then he shook his head. “I was sent to be the feet and hands and mouthpiece of Jesus. Right now, Semple needs me by his side. I must do my duty.”
Frustration pulsed in Arran’s chest, but who was he to argue with a clergyman’s sense of his divine purpose?
“I hope you dinna regret your decision.” Arran had no time left to debate with West. Instead, he noticed Old John standing near the main hall with his wife, the former Widow MacDougal.
They stood, arm in arm, watching all the commotion around them.
Old John had aged a great deal over the long winter months and would probably not saddle a horse to ride with the younger men.
He was slower than usual, though a fire still burned in his gaze and Arran could see the desire in his face to be useful.
“Old John,” Arran called to him as he approached, “I have a job for you.”
The old fur trader lifted his shoulders with a sense of importance. “Aye? How can I help?”
“I need you to guard Eleanor and Miriam, see that they’re safe. Could you do that for me?”
“Aye. With my very life.” Old John would do anything for anyone. It was just his way.
“Thank you, friend.” It was a relief to know that they would be looked after.
Arran did not have time for any other instructions—or to say goodbye to Eleanor and Miriam. He untied Tiberius and mounted the horse. Semple was already at the head of the group who had quickly assembled.
“Are we ready?” Semple called out to the men.
A rousing cheer rose above the chaos in the fort. Arran did not join in the call but made his way to the front near Semple.
Voyageurs, clerks, doctors, farmers, a clergyman, a governor, and Arran. They were Scottish, Irish, French-Canadian, English, and half-bloods. All coming together to save and protect Assiniboia.
“Let us be gone.” Semple tapped his horse with his heels and started out, heading north toward Colony Gardens.
The prairie was wide and barren as they made their way.
It was near five o’clock and there were still hours of sunshine to be had in the day.
Arran was thankful for the light as he turned his gaze toward the group of riders still making their way toward the settlement.
Dust billowed out behind their company as they rode.
They had not yet noticed the men coming from Fort Douglas, or if they had, they were ignoring them.
Semple and his men were only half a mile away from the fort when the oncoming colonists crossed their paths. The settlers were wild with fear, and their high-pitched voices were hard to hear until Semple ordered everyone to stop.
“Half-bloods!” several people yelled, pointing to the settlement. “Riding fast toward the river.”
“Not Indians?” Semple asked.
“No!” they cried as they continued to run, not stopping to say more.
Many of them shouted in Gaelic, confusing the riders who did not speak the Highlanders’ native tongue.