Page 48 of The Lady of Red River Valley (Ladies of the Wilderness #2)
“I have made a decision.” Selkirk stood and addressed the entire assembly, his voice resolute, if weary.
“Because of the obstruction of justice and the attempt to destroy evidence, as well as the stockpiling of weaponry, I am ordering the removal of all voyageurs, half-bloods, and Indians from this fort. I am also ordering the nine partners present to be taken, under guard, to York Factory for trial. Lieutenant Fauche will be tasked with your removal.”
“Ye canna do that!” Mr. McDonald rose from his seat and lifted his fist in the air. “Ye have no right.”
“I am working under the authority of the office of the Justice of the Peace.” Selkirk motioned for his soldiers to remove the partners. “You will be confined to your rooms until Lieutenant Fauche is ready to leave.”
Mr. McDonald yelled all the way out of the main hall. Several of the other partners also voiced their displeasure, but left without incident.
When they were finally gone, Selkirk dismissed the rest of the North West Company clerks, with orders to keep them under guard, as well.
Captain D’Orsonnens was tasked with the removal of the voyageurs, half-bloods, and Indians from the fort while Lieutenant Fauche made plans to leave with the partners.
“What will you do now that you have Fort William in your grasp?” Arran asked Selkirk when it was just him, his scribe, and the Red River men remaining.
Selkirk sank into his chair with a heavy sigh.
“I wish I did not have to do these things. But I have no other choice.” He met Arran’s gaze.
“I will remain here until all my business is concluded. I have dozens and dozens of letters to write and reports to send to Montreal and England. I might have weeks of work ahead of me.”
“And what of the settlers at Jack River House?” Arran was ready to leave at this very moment.
“I will retain fifty de Meuron soldiers,” Selkirk said. “And send the rest on with you to retrieve the settlers and overtake Fort Douglas. When I am done here, I will continue to the colony and we will rendezvous at Assiniboia. If you agree.”
“Aye.” Arran nodded. Though he had not slept for over a day, he was revived and energized to begin the journey immediately. “I will be ready to depart as soon as you can spare the soldiers.”
“There will be work for them in the next day or two—possibly longer. We must locate the weapons and remove the inhabitants. But when I believe all threat has passed, you may leave.”
Arran could not wait even another day. His feet itched to move and his muscles contracted with the need to expel the anxious energy he felt at the knowledge of his freedom. There was nothing keeping him from Eleanor now. Nothing but an earl who had need of the soldiers.
“If you are amenable, I will leave for Jack River House immediately, on my own. I can be there in half the time and collect the settlers. We will then head directly to the colony and meet your soldiers there.”
“You will not go alone,” James said. “I will go with you.”
“And I,” Archie said.
“And I,” Heden, Pritchard, and Burke echoed.
Selkirk was quiet for a moment, but then he nodded. “I can spare a dozen soldiers to accompany you, in case you meet trouble.”
“I insist we leave immediately,” Arran said. He could not wait another moment.
A slow smile lifted Selkirk’s mouth. “I understand your eagerness. Go, with my blessings. We will see each other again in Assiniboia.”
The Red River men did not let another minute pass before they went to their room and gathered the few possessions they had brought to the fort.
“I hope you are ready to travel hard,” James said to the men with a wide grin. “Because I dinna think Arran will let any of us rest until we reach Jack River House.”
The men laughed for the first time in a long time.
September 14, 1816
“Nay,” Isla said as she looked at Eleanor, sorrow in her rheumy eyes. “Not my John, too.”
“I’m sorry.” Eleanor sat beside the now twice-widowed woman, feeling as if she’d had to apologize far too many times for the loss of loved ones this past year. “Old John was a good, kind soul.”
“Ye dinna have to tell me, lass.” The widow did not cry but looked at her husband of only ten months.
He lay completely still on his cot, having died of an illness no one was able to identify.
He had not suffered long and had passed in his sleep.
“I never thought I’d live to bury two husbands.
I count myself blessed that both men were good to me.
I ken some women who marry and regret their decision. I never regretted mine.”
Eleanor smiled, appreciating the older woman’s positive attitude.
“I wonder if I’m too old to marry a third time,” she mused. “There are men enough to go around.” She glanced out to the fort yard beyond the flaps of her tent. “I wonder.”
Eleanor did not know if she should applaud the woman for her practicality or be appalled by her tactlessness. In the end, she did neither, just sat with the widow until she was ready to have John’s body buried.
It was a simple ceremony, one that Old John would have been proud of, though Eleanor could not help but think that Arran and James should be there to say goodbye to their friend.
They were fortunate to have a missionary priest visiting the fort who had said a word and a benediction for the aged fur trader.
Old John had faithfully given his life to the Hudson’s Bay Company, and though he’d never had the ambition to rise to a chief factor, he had been a senior clerk for several decades and had done his duty. He was well-known and well-loved.
Eleanor could not stop thinking about Arran and how much he would miss Old John as she and Nicolette walked back to their tent with Miriam toddling along between them.
When given the opportunity, Miriam would rather walk than be carried. Though it often took longer for Eleanor to complete her tasks this way, she loved the little girl’s independent spirit. It would serve her well in a world that was not always kind.
Clouds hung on the horizon, covering what little sun they had left to the day. Isla had stayed behind to speak to the priest, but it was time to get supper ready. A hungry little girl did not appreciate a deviation to her schedule.
The small camp they had inhabited with Old John and Isla felt oddly deserted. No more would Old John be nearby to offer his entertaining stories or his protection. Eleanor did not anticipate any problems, but it had been good to know the fur trader was there, if the need arose.
Nicolette did not speak as she stirred the coals and coaxed them to life. She put sticks on the fire and brought it to a flame. Eleanor helped by retrieving the precious ration of corn they had tucked away in their tent from Mr. Barlas.
“I wish we had a garden of our own,” Eleanor said, almost to herself. Nicolette rarely responded, though it did not stop Eleanor from talking to her. “I appreciate the squash and beans and corn from the fort garden, but I haven’t had carrots or peas since leaving England.”
More and more, she found herself longing for the life she once had.
If not for her, then for Miriam, who knew nothing of a different sort of existence.
Eleanor’s childhood had been full of comforts she’d taken for granted.
Warm beds, roaring fireplaces, delectable foods, leisure time for lessons, games, and riding.
The only thing that gave Eleanor a bit of reprieve from the monotony of their current predicament was the classes she offered four days a week for anyone who chose to attend.
She had both children and adults now, those who had never learned to read.
They did not meet for long, but the two or three hours she spent with them a day had made a huge difference in their ability to read and write.
Fiona Ferguson was one of those adults. While Nicolette and Isla had watched the children, Fiona had learned how to read, practice simple sums, and write a letter.
She had rejected Mr. Kelly’s proposal, to his great dismay, and had allowed other men to start to court her favor.
She had yet to choose which man would be honored with her hand in marriage, but Eleanor was certain she was getting close to a decision.
She had watched her and Mr. Aiken on several occasions and saw a spark of interest in her friend’s eyes.
Nicolette took the last stick of wood from the pile that Old John had kept stocked.
“I’ll retrieve more,” Eleanor said. “Will you watch Miriam?”
She waited for Nicolette to nod, then she left them by their campfire and walked toward the fur post, where the voyageurs kept a vast supply of firewood.
Those who needed it, like Eleanor and Fiona, had permission to take a certain amount each day—but those who had a man to cut and chop their own wood in the surrounding countryside, were asked to get their fuel somewhere else.
The fur post was a long, narrow rowhouse, comprised of several rooms. On the far end was the Hudson’s Bay Company store.
Now, in the month of September, the trade was slow.
It would pick up again when the cold winter months set in.
Mr. Barlas spent his days overseeing the work of his voyageurs, preparing for the long winter months.
Stopping at the woodpile behind the post, Eleanor began to fill her arms with the small sticks of wood. Splinters jabbed into her skin and the fabric of her sleeves. She stopped and looked at her work-worn hands, amazed at how different they looked in just one year.
“Would ye mind a little help?” Chait appeared around the corner of the rowhouse. He leaned against the wall in a casual pose, his arms crossed.
Eleanor’s heartrate escalated at seeing him again. Though she knew he had not left the fort since their conversation weeks ago, he had not approached her again. “No, thank you.” She continued to stack the pile, focusing on her work and not on the penetrating look he gave her.