Page 34 of The Lady of Red River Valley (Ladies of the Wilderness #2)

All around Arran, men he had known for years lay on the ground. Angus Ferguson jumped from his horse and went to a fellow settler who was gasping for air. One of the Bois-Br?lés took aim and sent a musket ball straight through Angus’s heart. He fell over his friend and did not move again.

Shock and disbelief ravaged Arran’s mind, but he was defenseless as he tried to stem the flow of blood from Semple’s wound—it was like watching his mother burn to death, all over again.

Arran’s musket needed to be reloaded to shoot again, but he couldn’t do that and help Semple at the same time.

He had no way to protect or shield his men, or himself.

If they could not stop the Bois-Br?lés now, with some of their strongest and bravest men, how would they protect the fort?

What would become of Eleanor and Miriam—or Fiona and her children?

Rage spotted Arran’s eyesight and he started to rise, a rush of energy convincing him he could take on fifty Bois-Br?lés on his own.

At that moment, Captain Rogers, another of the company men, ran toward the line of Bois-Br?lés, his hands raised over his head. “I surrender,” he called out in desperation. “Spare my life!”

One of the men with Cuthbert Grant lowered his gun and aimed it right at Rogers. He didn’t even hesitate, but shot him in the head and then jumped from his horse and stabbed him.

Arran yelled in anger at the savagery. Smoke from the muskets burnt his nose while Semple’s blood wet his hands.

From where he sat on the ground, he could see Cuthbert Grant sitting quietly on his horse, watching the scene unfold with little emotion.

Beside him, a man Arran had known as a young North West Company clerk, Augustin Lavigne, also watched, though he didn’t appear to be unaffected.

His eyes were large, and his face was pale.

West was one of the last men on a horse. Arran yelled for him to get down and try to save himself, but West did not appear to hear him over the melee.

Instead, he put up his hands, his face wild with shock. “We have not come for bloodshed. We only wish to be heard.”

“West!” Arran yelled at him again and tried to rise and stop him. “Dinna—”

A shot rang out and West’s eyes opened wide. It was as if time stood still. He looked down at the growing patch of red on his chest and slowly lifted his hand to touch the bullet hole. A moment later, he slumped over in his saddle.

“No.” Arran fell back onto the prairie, panic and disbelief pounding through his body.

He felt disconnected and removed from the scene.

There were only a few men still alive, but for how long?

Hatred and murder burned from the eyes of the Bois-Br?lés as they reloaded their weapons and continued to fight.

Only Lavigne appeared to be shaken. Suddenly, Arran knew what he must do.

“Please, Lavigne.” Arran stood, his legs weak.

He put his hands up, knowing full well that Cuthbert had no intention of leaving any of them alive.

He had come for revenge, and he had just taken it.

There was no telling what he might do to the fort and those inside once all Semple’s men were dead.

Arran could think of nothing else but Eleanor and Miriam.

He needed to stay alive so he could protect them.

It was the only thing that mattered now, and he would do whatever it would take.

But he couldn’t stay where he was. “Lavigne!” Arran walked toward the man, wondering if each breath was his last. “We are friends,” he said to the Frenchman.

“You ken me well. Dinna let me die today.”

Lavigne focused his bewildered gaze on Arran, almost as if he was in a daze.

One of the other men Arran had worked with, a Mr. McKay, pointed his gun at Arran. “What are you doing here, un petit crapaud ?” he asked, calling Arran a little toad in French. “You deserted the North West Company and turned against us. You do not deserve to live.”

“I give myself up,” Arran said to Lavigne, not acknowledging McKay, or caring if he appeared to be a coward. He would do anything to save Eleanor and Miriam. “I am your prisoner.”

Lavigne dismounted, his face white as he surveyed the dead men all around them.

James was somehow still alive, though he held his forearm, blood covering his hands and clothing.

Archie was also alive and was on the ground, pressing a stomach wound of one of their fallen men.

Miraculously, they had survived the onslaught of the guns, while others lay moaning in anguish. West did not move on his horse.

Arran was sick with grief. How had it come to this? Miriam was now an orphan, in every sense of the word. And Eleanor? How would she return to England now?

Lavigne approached Arran, and Arran knew his former friend was his only hope.

“Kill the toad,” McKay shouted. He leapt from his horse and ran toward Arran, a knife extended.

Lavigne pushed Arran out of the way and knelt in front of McKay. It caused the other man to stumble and fly toward the hard prairie ground. His face hit the dirt and he rolled to a stop on his back.

“No,” Lavigne shouted while he rose, rubbing his shoulder where McKay had hit. “There has been enough bloodshed for one day. These men have surrendered.”

McKay started to rise again, anger and loathing in his eyes. He wiped his mouth and spit out dirt and blood.

“Grant,” Lavigne said to the leader. “These men are our prisoners now. We cannot kill them.”

“I can help.” Arran was desperate as he addressed Cuthbert.

He was willing to do anything to spare Eleanor and Miriam, and see to Fiona and all the other widows and orphans.

A year ago, he would have died in this place, defending the fort at all costs.

But now? Now, there were far more important things than the colony and his promise to Lord Selkirk.

“I can help you negotiate with the fort to surrender,” he said quickly, keeping one eye on McKay.

“I will personally see that all the colonists are removed to Jack River House.”

“Arran.” James stepped forward to deny his promise. “Dinna—”

“No.” Arran turned and silenced James with a raise of his hand. He could not watch another friend be cut down today. “We will give them what they want. We must.”

James stared hard at Arran, clenching his jaw tight.

“I will do whatever you ask,” Arran said to Cuthbert. “But, please, spare the rest of these men and those at the fort. There will be no resistance, I promise you.”

Semple groaned from where Arran had left him behind his horse.

Cuthbert sat quietly, his eyes calculating as he looked from Arran, to Semple, and to the fort. “Take MacLean into custody,” he said to Lavigne. “We will bring him to our camp until I decide what to do.”

“And our men?” Arran asked. “May we bury them?”

“Leave them.” Cuthbert prodded his horse over the fallen men and went to Semple.

“I am not mortally wounded,” Semple said through gasps of pain. “If you could get me conveyed to the fort, I think I should live.”

Cuthbert stared at Semple in open abhorrence, but he nodded at one of his men. “See that he’s brought to the fort.”

“Thank you,” Semple said, tears on his cheeks. “Thank you.”

Arran’s chest rose and fell on short breaths. He started to move toward West, but Lavigne stopped him.

One of the Bois-Br?lés pulled at West’s arm. The man fell hard and shapeless on the ground, a sickening lump of a man. The Bois-Br?lé leapt onto his horse and took off to the north.

“Please,” Arran said to Lavigne. “He’s my—my friend. I want to see if he’s still alive.” He prayed to God that he was, even as the truth stung his gut.

Lavigne had already done much for Arran, but he allowed him to go to West.

Arran knelt on the ground and put his finger on West’s neck to feel for a pulse.

There was none.

Rage burned deep in Arran’s chest, and it took all his willpower not to turn and unleash his fury on those who had just killed this man of God.

“Come.” Lavigne motioned toward the retreating backs of the Bois-Br?lés. “We have a camp not far from here. Grant will want to speak to you.”

James, Archie, and the man who had worked as Semple’s secretary, Mr. Pritchard, were also brought into custody. Their hands were tied behind their backs, and they were forced to walk away from their friends.

They had not gone far when another shot rang out. Arran flinched, then turned and saw a man above Semple, his pistol still smoking.

Semple lay dead on the ground.

Grant had led Semple to believe he would live.

What hope did Arran have that he, James, Archie, and Pritchard would survive to help those at the fort?