Page 8 of The Lady of Red River Valley (Ladies of the Wilderness #2)

Chapter Four

I t had been two days since Eleanor had arrived with the colonists from Kildonan, and Arran had not yet become used to seeing her around the fort.

He had tried to avoid her whenever possible, and it hadn’t been difficult.

He’d told everyone to begin preparing for their winter trek to Pembina and there was much to be done.

“The governor would like to see you.” A young boy named Ben found Arran in the barn currying Tiberius after returning from Colony Gardens.

“I’ll be along shortly.”

“I can do that for you,” Ben said, stepping up to Arran’s side. “The governor says ’tis important. Mr. Robertson is with him.”

Arran was not accustomed to letting someone else handle his stallion, but the lad was often around the barn, and he’d shown an aptitude for animals.

Tossing the currycomb to Ben, Arran left the barn and crossed the fort yard.

Wisps of snow fell from the sky and gathered in small piles along the stockade walls and at the base of the buildings.

His breath puffed out of his mouth as he glanced at the heavy clouds.

The sight of them made him uneasy, but there was little to do about the oncoming weather.

He didn’t want to make the seventy-mile trip to Pembina during a storm, or after the river froze.

There were dozens of dogs in the settlement used for pulling carioles during the winter months, but there weren’t enough sleds or dogs to transport a hundred and forty people at once.

And they needed to remain together for their own protection.

They would need to go by canoe, and soon.

Arran pushed open the door to the governor’s house and stepped into the common room. Nicolette stood near the fireplace, stirring a pot, while Eleanor sat at the table with the baby in her arms. Eleanor’s head was bent as she spoke softly to the bairn.

She looked up when Arran entered, and their gazes met.

The sight of her made his pulse tick faster, as it had every time he’d laid eyes upon her these past two days.

She wore a blue gown, the waist cinched just under her bosom.

The sleeves were long and the neckline high, but it contoured to her feminine form and was very pleasing to look upon.

Her dark brown curls were piled high on her head with tendrils framing her pretty face.

Seeing the baby in her arms only made her more attractive.

She was so gentle and loving toward the child, he couldn’t help but picture Eleanor as a mother with her own wee ones.

He steeled his reaction to her and barely acknowledged her presence as he crossed the room and knocked on the governor’s door. It was the only way he knew how to protect his heart.

“Come in,” Governor Semple called through the door.

Arran removed his hat and entered the governor’s office. “You sent for me?”

Semple motioned to the chair next to Colin Robertson. “Have a seat. I’ve just been told some alarming news from Mr. Robertson.”

A heightened sense of awareness came over Arran as he sat, his hand holding his musket against the floor, his back rigid. “What have you heard?”

Governor Semple was a tall man with a thick chest. His military bearing was evident in the way he moved and conducted himself. He faced Arran now with a steady gaze. “Duncan Cameron has just returned to Fort Gibraltar.”

Arran’s muscles tensed at the announcement. Every time Duncan Cameron was in residence at Fort Gibraltar, it meant trouble for the colony.

“He came from the yearly rendezvous at Fort William,” Robertson supplied. “I saw him with my own eyes just an hour ago.”

“I’ve been told the Nor’westers stole our six fieldpieces when they raided the colony in June,” Semple said to Arran. “And that they have not been recovered.”

“Aye.” Arran nodded. Duncan Cameron had ordered the removal of the small cannons, leaving the fort defenseless until Archie had remembered the rusted cannon in an old shed near the river.

“They took our fieldpieces, as well as our ammunition,” Arran explained.

“Duncan said it was payment for the two hundred bags of pemmican Governor Macdonell confiscated from them the year before when he signed the proclamation.” Pemmican was a staple food for everyone in Rupert’s Land.

The mixed-race people were especially adept at making the concoction.

After drying buffalo meat, they pulverized it to a fine powder and then combined it with animal fat and dried berries before packing it into ninety-pound bags.

It could be eaten cold, but it was best when stewed with root vegetables and a flour paste. The dish was called rubbaboo.

“As the new governor of Assiniboia,” Semple spoke with authority, “I’m ordering the arrest of Duncan Cameron for the theft and destruction of Red River Colony property.”

Robertson exchanged a glance with Arran. Both would be happy to see Duncan punished for his actions at long last.

“I want the two of you to take a dozen armed men and go there immediately,” the governor continued. “He won’t anticipate seeing you this soon. Bring him back to me when you have him in your custody.”

“Aye.” Arran stood, eager to have the deed done but not excited to face the difficulties that waited for him. “Will that be all?”

“For now. See that the men are armed. I do not want anyone hurt.”

Every male colonist in Assiniboia was always armed. It had been their way since the beginning.

Arran and Robertson left the governor’s office, but Arran paused in the common room as Robertson walked outside.

Eleanor rose from her place at the table. She set the baby to her shoulder and patted her gently on the back. “Is all well?”

Things were not well, but once Duncan was in custody, things would get much better. He didn’t want to concern her with his problems. The less she knew about the difficulties around her, the better.

“Aye.” He put his hat on and walked toward the door.

“Arran,” she called, making him pause.

He turned to look at her, his name a bittersweet sound on her lips.

Her eyes were so large and troubled. If they had been at St. Mary’s Isle, he would have gathered her in his arms to ease her worries. But they were no longer in Scotland, and he no longer had the privilege of comforting her.

“Could we talk?” she asked.

One simple request, yet it held far too much weight.

Wasn’t it her flowery words that had made him lose his heart—and his head—to begin with?

He couldn’t risk such a thing again. “I have business to attend to for the governor.” With that, he slipped out the door and met Robertson, who was speaking to some men in the yard.

“I will rouse James,” Arran said to Robertson. “If you’ll gather the other men.”

Robertson nodded and turned to the task.

Arran strode to the row house, bending his head against the cold wind.

As the chief factor of the Hudson’s Bay Company post at Fort Douglas, James was in charge of overseeing the work of the voyageurs.

He ran the company store and traded with the Indians who brought in their furs throughout the winter.

In the spring, the voyageurs would take all the furs to York Factory and bring back the trade good items used to purchase the pelts from the Indians.

With the change in the weather, James had turned his focus from the settlement to the store and Arran knew he would find his friend there now.

Arran walked into the store at the end of the row house. James stood behind the counter with the trade good items, a ledger spread open before him. He was alone in the store, but a pile of furs at his left hand indicated a recent visit from neighboring Indians.

“What can I do for you?” James asked as he looked up from the ledger.

“Semple just ordered the arrest of Duncan Cameron.”

James nodded. “Long overdue.”

“I need to gather a group of men, and I want you and Archie to be among them.”

“Aye. I’ll do what I can.”

“Let’s be ready to go in a quarter hour.”

James didn’t say another word but closed his ledger and took up his gun.

Arran left the row house and found Robertson. In no time, they were ready to leave Fort Douglas with their small army.

The North West Company’s Fort Gibraltar sat less than a mile to the south.

As soon as Arran and his men left Fort Douglas, they would be seen by the Nor’westers, but it wouldn’t matter.

Duncan would have only a handful of voyageurs in the fort with him.

They, like the Hudson’s Bay Company men, would trade with the Indians throughout the winter.

Any fighting they planned would not happen until spring or summer, as it had in the past, when the trading was at a minimum.

They would assume Arran and his men planned to do the same.

It didn’t take long to reach the fort. The gates were open for trade, so Arran and his men walked in without announcing themselves. Fort Gibraltar was a handsome fort with a large store and a clean yard. A porch stretched the length of the front of the main building and was painted a jaunty red.

Duncan came to the door of his trading post. He stood without a jacket, his arms crossed, as he watched them approach.

He was at least fifteen years older than Arran and had treated him like a child from the moment they’d met.

But Arran was now a man of thirty. He was no longer a child to be used as Duncan’s pawn.

In fifteen years, he had learned a great deal about men like Duncan.

They liked to use their authority to push others around.

They were cunning and charming, but when it came to fighting, they rarely dirtied their hands.

Duncan would rather use his words and intelligence to win a battle.

Today, Arran and Robertson would take him by force, and he doubted Duncan would put up a fight. They would have done it long ago, if they’d had the authority.