He had to find a way to escape from his guard so he could search for the mineral. Most of the time, they kept him locked in this room with someone always watching. But now they allowed him a few moments outside, always accompanied by Brielle and at least one other person. That quarter hour was precious, and he’d never take sunshine for granted again. Even though the sun here held much less potency than it did farther south.
Maybe he could find a chance to break free during one of those outings. Yet how would he manage without his supplies? No knife or gun. No furs to stay warm when the weather turned blustery. If he had even one type of weapon, he might be able to hunt enough to fill his stomach and guard against cold weather. But that would slow him down. Finding pitchblende and returning to the States by the end of the year might be impossible under those conditions.
He would have to convince these people he didn’t mean them harm. They would release him once they came to trust him. He could soon be on his way in search of a mountain containing the mineral hehadto find.
He picked at the line of dark hair that marked the edge of the hide, where it had wrapped around the animal’s belly. He’d memorized every nuance of the fur underneath him—a caribou pelt, Philip had said. He’d imagined the animal’s entire lifespan, from where it must have been born, how it must have frolicked with the other young caribou, how it had fought with the other males as it came of age. How it might have split off with a few cows to form its own small band, then been struck down by one of the hunters here. Maybe by Brielle herself.
He asked every person who entered the room if there was anything he could do to be helpful. He’d offered to whittle arrows as Brielle did or stitch moccasins like Philip, the night guard. He’d be willing to braid rope if they would only give him something to occupy his mind and hands.
A few of the men had been open to conversation—in small bits, anyway. Philip had told of his wife, Rona, and their two children.
Leonard, the man watching him now, spoke of the womanhe was betrothed to marry in the spring. He seemed a few years younger than the other guards and was eager both to do his job well and to be generally pleasant. Evan had asked about Brielle and when the man mentioned she still lived in her father’s home, a bit of relief wound through him. She must not be married. But when he asked how she’d come to be head of the guard, Leonard had clamped his mouth shut and shrugged.
The door opened, and a man poked his head in. At his place against the far wall, Leonard scrambled to his feet. “Marcellus. You’re not supposed to be in here.”
Marcellus. He’d heard that name before. Was he the one Brielle and Audrey had spoken of? Brielle had been adamant he wasn’t to see Evan.
Of course, she’d been adamant about all of Evan’s restrictions. If only he could make her see he hadn’t come to hurt her people. The image of the children playing outside slipped through his mind. He wouldnothurt these people, especially not the children.
His last assignment had been to help sneak a wagon of explosives into a Canadian fort. He’d not realized how many women and children the place contained until their cries rose with the smoke. He could still hear their screams. He could never let that happen again on one of his missions.
Marcellus lumbered into the room and closed the door behind him, pulling Evan from the awful memories. The fellow gave Leonard a grin that flashed both rows of teeth. “I only came to say hello.” He spoke French, but hisSsounds carried a slight lisp that made his words even harder to translate. Hearing the language these last few days had brought back what Evan had learned in the past, and his understandingof what he heard was growing better each day. But he had to think hard to process what Marcellus was saying.
Evan looked closer at the fellow. He was big, but probably not much older than himself. Yet something in his face gave him a boyish look.
Leonard let out a sigh. “Say hello, then, and get it over with.”
Marcellus turned his wide grin on Evan and walked right up to him with his hand extended. Evan reached out to clasp it in greeting, but the man moved past his outstretched palm and clapped Evan on the shoulder. “I’m Marcellus. I’m really happy to meet you. Your name is Evan?”
The man’s jubilance was hard not to appreciate, and Evan reached up to pat Marcellus’s shoulder in the same way. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m happy you came to say hello. It gets a little quiet here.” He sent a sideways grin to Leonard. Though he’d shared a little, he seemed just as pleased to maintain silence.
Marcellus leaned in as he spoke. “Brielle told me she had to find out if you could be trusted before I came to visit, but it’s been five whole days and I’m sure she’s decided by now. I can see right off you can be trusted, so if she doesn’t know it, I’ll tell her. Where did you come from anyway? Mama said it was far away. She said your people are bad sometimes. You’re not bad, though, are you? I told her I didn’t think you would be bad. I’m bad sometimes, but I try hard not to be.”
Evan had to work to hold back his chuckle, both at the man’s words and the way they poured out of him. This one certainly didn’t value silence.
The fellow finally seemed to be waiting for him to speak, but there was so much to respond to. Evan picked the easiestand most recent comment. “I’m sure you try hard, Marcellus. I try hard not to be bad, too. And your mama is right, I’m from a place far away. I had no idea you and your village were up here.”
“Really?” The lad—for it was hard not to think of him as a lad with some of the boyish expressions that crossed his face—tipped his head in curiosity. “Because I heard Papa Durand talking to my papa and they were saying they thought you came to see what we were doing up here. They thought you would go back and tell an army, and they would come take over our homes.”
The words stung as their possibility sank through him. If he did find pitchblende in their mountain, the miners would cause great damage to the homes in Laurent. But pitchblende wouldn’t behere. What were the odds that this was the specific location?
Yet, even if he found the mineral in a nearby mountain, the work would still cause a disruption to Laurent’s way of life. Outsiders would learn of them, and probably intermingle with them. There would be competition for hunting while the work was being done. And Laurent might be exposed to diseases and other threats they’d not faced in their protected village.
“That’s enough, Marcellus.” Leonard marched forward and ushered the fellow toward the door.
Marcellus turned back to Evan with a wave. “I’ll come back and see you soon.”
Evan forced a smile. “Anytime. I’d like the company.”
As the guard murmured quiet words to Marcellus at the door, Evan sank into his spinning thoughts, focusing on a different part of the lad’s words.
Was there something here in Laurent that needed to beprotected? Something an army would be willing to march for months to obtain? It couldn’t be pitchblende, for its explosive properties were only a recent discovery, only known by a few chemists. Even if the people knew they had that mineral, they couldn’t know its value.
So, what could these people or this location have that would be so precious to an entire country?
It was time he had a heart-to-heart with Brielle.
If she forced herself to admit the truth, Brielle had been avoiding Evan MacManus.
