Understanding struck his eyes.
She looked away. “Eventually, I was taken from the city’s Alms House and contracted to Griffiths who left Philadelphia for Virginia…” She took a breath, her shame shifting to joy. “And then, like something out of a fairytale, I was rescued by a Métis frontiersman from Acadie.”
He smiled and handed her the canteen. “A Métis frontiersman who is determined to giveMadame Royaleajoyeuxending.”
“You are too kind,” she said, all a-fumble again. She took a long, thirsty drink, spilling water down her bodice and feeling nothing likeMadame Royale. “’Tis too grand.”
“You are the granddaughter of acomte, no?”
“That seems another world.” Still, she’d oft wondered about the French family on another continent she’d never met.Mamanhad written her estranged father letters. Whether or not he’d replied escaped her. Then and now the past gnawed at her but she had no answers.
Bleu’s mesmerizing gaze returned to her as she handed him the canteen. “Have you ever wanted to sail there… to France?”
She hesitated. How could she answer when she’d never considered the possibility? She just lifted her shoulders slightly.
“I knew there was something different about you,” he murmured before turning away as Titus approached and showed him an arrowhead he’d found.
Something different?
She prayed whatever he saw in her wasbon.Asbonas what she saw in him. The more time she spent with him, the more aware she was of her history. Even her long-discarded French revived.
“I’ve never seen the like of those hot springs,” Titus said, tucking the arrowhead in his pocket, his voice alive with wonder. “What’s the Rivanna River like?”
“The Rivanna is colder. Made for ferrying and fishing.” Bleu turned toward Brielle, helping her into the saddle and hefting Titus up after her. “You’ll find plenty to do living alongside it if you don’t drown.”
Titus grinned as Brielle took a last, fleeting look at the place that had made a lasting memory. Atop Windigo, Bleu led out again and her view narrowed to her roan’s velvety ears and just beyond it. She was becoming used to all the lines and contours of him astride. Back straight, his dark hair caught in a leather tie that fell between squared shoulders, he rode almost effortlessly, a striking blend of balance and command.
She felt clumsy in comparison though the saddle was extraordinarily well made, even comfortable, and Titus made no complaint riding behind her. Somehow they sensed they needed to be quiet. Talking was reserved for mornings and evenings out of the saddle. Caution became their watchword. Thankfully, the further east they traveled the less the danger, Bleu had told them.
As they rode through deep green woods and flowering thickets, past high-as-the-heavens waterfalls spilling over clifftops, and up and down steep ridges teeming with creatures large and small, she had no cause for complaint. It put them further from theRose and Crownand the diminished life they’d led there.
That night once they’d washed at a rushing creek and partaken of a cold supper, Titus fell asleep atop his blanket roll. Across from her, Bleu leaned back against the trunk of an oak, Mohawk pipe in hand, the fragrant tobacco whitening the air between them.
Though drowsy, she’d rather savor her surroundings and his company than sleep. In the last of the light she sat and mended Titus’s torn breeches with the sewing kit she’d brought. “So, now that you know my story,” she began quietly, “when will you tell me yours?”
“My story?” Though she didn’t look up she sensed he smiled. “Perhaps it’s better left untold.”
“I would hear every bit of it, even the hard parts,” she said, her stitches hurried as darkness rushed in.
“We have much in common. Is that not enough?” he replied. “We are both homeless. Unwed. Without work. Attached to a child not our own.”
“There is much more to you than that.”
He chuckled and took another draw on his pipe. “I will give you the short of it as you said.”
Would he? What she wanted was the long of it, too. Looking up, she saw stars winking, the moon a mere crescent as it rose. She continued her mending though she was tempted to stop what she was doing and focus fully on him. Modesty kept her from it. Perhaps it was easier to speak freely unobserved?
“I was born in Acadie, as you know,” he began. “My French father, Gabriel Galant, was head of our clan there. My Mi’kmaq mother died before I could walk, and he remarried an Acadian woman. I spent a great deal of time with my mother’s people and learned their ways well. I also spent time with my half-sisters and half-brothers—Sylvie, Pascal, Lucien, and Marie-Madeleine—until the great upheaval happened.”
“The expulsion when the British invaded and took your lands.”
“Oui,le Grand Dérangement.” He paused and she held her breath.
Was the subject too sore?
“I recall displaced Acadians arriving in Philadelphia and living on Pine Street.” She set her sewing aside. “My mother and I attended St. Joseph’s Church on William’s Alley where some of them worshipped and even wed.”
“More than a few landed in Philadelphia,oui,while the Galants and their kin were scattered to the winds. Only Sylvie and I survived—or so we believe. Our brothers tried to flee and avoid exile. We don’t know their fate. My Acadian mother and father and young sister were lost at sea.”
