Page 50 of The Lady of Red River Valley (Ladies of the Wilderness #2)
Chapter Twenty-One
A rran opened his eyes. Nothing had awoken him but the stirrings of his own heart. Stars sparkled overhead, while the silhouette of tall pine trees pointed to the heavens. The fire had long been extinguished, but smoke still spiraled up into the early morning hours.
It was too early to wake the others, but Arran could not force himself to return to sleep. They were just a day’s journey away from Jack River House and the last thing he wanted was to waste his time sleeping. The sooner they woke and left camp, the sooner they could reach the settlers.
“I hear you,” James said quietly beside Arran. He was wrapped up in a Hudson’s Bay Company blanket, his head toward the campfire. All eighteen men slept this way, like spokes of a wagon wheel. “You canna sleep?”
Arran turned onto his back and stared up at the stars. “Nay.”
“You’ve only been sleeping three or four hours a night. You canna keep on this way. You’ll get sick and then what good will you be to Eleanor?”
Eleanor. Arran placed his hand over his heart as he closed his eyes.
Warmth filled his chest and his stomach turned with nerves born of eagerness.
Would he be by her side at this time tomorrow?
He had no way of knowing if she was even still alive—though his heart told him she was.
He could almost feel her in his arms, even now.
Dreams of their wedding and life together had kept him going these many months since they were forced to part.
For four years, he’d longed for her. Could it be that he only had to wait one more day?
“I canna sleep.” Energy coursed through Arran’s arms and legs. “I have a mind to go the rest of the way on my own. I wouldna have to wait—”
“’Tis safer to be in the company of others. There’s still a mark on your head. If you fell into the wrong hand—”
“I dinna care about anyone’s hands but Eleanor’s.” He lifted himself onto his side and looked at James. “I’ll take the lightest canoe.”
“And paddle all that way on your own?”
“I have the energy of five men coursing through me today.”
James sighed and sat up. “You ken ‘tis only three in the morning?”
Arran also sat and shrugged. “I dinna care.”
With another sigh, James began to roll up his mat.
“What are you doing?” Arran asked.
“I’m not letting you go by yourself, that’s for sure. And I ken you well enough. You’ve made up your mind to go. If I go back to sleep, I’ll wake up in a few hours and find you’ve gone.”
Arran smiled. His friend did know him well.
“So, let’s be off.” James secured the bed mat in a roll and fastened it to his knapsack with the leather straps on the bottom.
“And what of the others?”
“Most of them are surprised you dinna leave on your own already. When they wake up, they’ll realize what happened.”
Arran quickly packed his own things, and in less than five minutes, they were paddling a light canoe on a long, narrow lake, heading toward the northwest.
It was cool, but Arran didn’t mind. The weather reinvigorated him and gave him the stamina to paddle without ceasing for over an hour.
Neither man spoke as they pushed their oars into the water.
When they stopped for a short break, they listened quietly to the call of the loon, and then resumed their journey.
Slowly, the sun began to rise, dimming the bright stars.
The light first appeared as a fine shadow on the eastern horizon, turning from black to purple to pink.
It slid up and overhead, the sun appearing behind, and soon it domed above their heads in beautiful grandeur.
Everything looked different in the light of day.
Shortly after daybreak, they reached a portage.
“This will be the last portage before entering Little Playgreen Lake,” James said to Arran, his voice teasing. “It’s not too late to turn back now.”
Arran laughed. “Nothing in all of God’s great creation could persuade me to go back.” He lifted the canoe on his shoulders while James took their bags. Droplets of water rained all around him from the bottom of the canoe.
The portage was over a mile long. If they had been with their entire entourage, they would have had to make several trips over the portage to move all their supplies.
Lord Selkirk had sent them with food, weapons, and other sundry items. There were barrels of flour, wine, and corn, as well as salt pork and sugar.
They had a hundred bags of pemmican and dried peas, not to mention the bags of sea biscuits.
They had carried them all the way from Fort William.
Arran felt a small measure of guilt leaving the other men to haul the supplies, but in most situations, the deputy-governor of Assiniboia and the Chief Factor of the Hudson’s Bay Company at Fort Douglas would not have been required to carry supplies.
Besides, they had worked tirelessly for the past four weeks to bring them this far.
They walked in silence until they came to the shores of Little Playgreen Lake. Arran was familiar with the body of water, having been through there several times on trips to and from York Factory. They entered a small bay in the lake and Arran set the canoe into the water.
“If I remember correctly,” James said, putting down their bags, “we have about three miles to paddle before reaching Jack River House.”
“Aye.” Three miles. Less than two hours, if they paddled with all their strength.
Every nerve and muscle in Arran thrummed in anticipation. He had never longed for something or someone more than he did Eleanor. With every breath he took, and every minute that passed, it only grew more intense.
Yet, the fear that she was no longer at Jack River House consumed him. He’d asked her to wait, but had she? What if something had happened beyond her control? Or, worse, what if she had given up on him?
“Dinna fash,” James said as he stepped into the water and put their packs in the center of the birchbark canoe. “She’ll be waiting for you.”
“How can you be sure?” Arran also stepped into the water and held the boat as James settled into the front. Arran stepped into the vessel on ginger feet, balancing his weight so they did not turn it over. He’d become adept at such things in his years in the interior.
“She loves you. I’ve known it from the moment I met her.” James set his paddle into the water and began the long, steady strokes as Arran did the same.
“What if she was forced to leave or—”
“Dinna borrow yourself trouble, Arran.” James’s back moved with the rhythm of his paddling. “God has brought you both this far. Trust He’ll take you the rest of the way.”
Arran hoped and prayed James was right.
They paddled without ceasing until Jack River House became visible.
One of the first things they saw was the Hudson’s Bay Company flag flying high over the fort.
Just the sight of it gave Arran a burst of energy to keep going.
The lake and surrounding land were still and quiet.
There was no wind and the water looked like pure glass.
The only disturbance was from their canoe and paddles.
With each dip and push forward, a ripple of water dispersed.
The fort sloped toward the lake and was surrounded by a large stockade. It was easy to make out the dozens of settlers’ tents encamped within.
“It looks like they made it here,” James said.
Arran’s heart pounded harder with each stroke of his paddle. “I pray to God Eleanor and Miriam are among them.”
Someone from the fort noticed their approach and soon there were several people who had gathered near the fort gates.
It wouldn’t be unusual for a two-manned canoe to visit.
As far as the inhabitants of the fort knew, they could be two Indians, two half-bloods, two voyageurs, or even two company men visiting from another fort.
Arran strained to look at the people standing near the open gate, but it didn’t look like there were any women among the men. His gaze then went up the hill toward the settlers’ tents. He could see people near their tents and campfires, but it was impossible to make out individuals.
Soon, they were upon the fort and they glided to a stop.
“MacLean! McIntosh!” One of the settlers recognized them and threw his hands up to the sky in praise. “Where have ye come from?”
“Fort William,” Arran said as he stepped into the water. “The others will be here later today.”
“Arran couldna wait.” James grinned.
Arran wanted to ask about Eleanor, but it wouldn’t be seemly. Not yet.
James also stepped out of the canoe and they took their bags from the center.
“We’ll take the canoe up,” the settler said. “Mr. Barlas will want to see ye.”
“I’m thinking there will be others anxious to see you, too,” James said to Arran, slapping him on the shoulder.
They walked through the gate and into the fort yard. Fiona Ferguson stood by a cauldron set over a fire, a stick in hand as she stirred the contents. She glanced up and met Arran’s gaze. Her mouth slipped open and she stared at him as if seeing an apparition.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Ferguson,” Arran said.
Instead of smiling, as Arran had assumed, her eyes grew large and she looked toward the tent community with apprehension and something akin to fear.
Something was wrong. Very wrong.
“What?” he asked her. “Is it Eleanor?”
She wiped her hands on her apron and nodded. “Aye.”
It felt as if the ground tilted under his very feet. He reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. “Where is she?”
“In her tent.”
“Take me to her.” He didn’t care if Eleanor had the black plague and she was contagious. Nothing could keep him from her side.
It had been two days since Chait had cornered Eleanor near the woodpile. She hadn’t strayed far from her tent since that fateful day, keeping Miriam close. The little girl was peacefully sleeping on Nicolette’s cot, even now, oblivious to Eleanor’s concerns.