They’d always been friendly, and even now, the approaching figures wore packs on their backs that rose as high as their heads. They must have come to trade one last time before the force of winter made travel impossible.
She stepped away from the tree and raised a hand in peaceful greeting, then waited for them to approach. No need to go to them if she was going to turn around and walk with them back to Laurent.
Itchka greeted her with his usual solemn nod of respect, and she called up the words she’d learned in their tongue. “You come to trade?”
He nodded. “Candles and torches and parchment.”
She returned his nod, then shifted and fell into step with them as they retraced her snowshoe tracks. Her people had long ago taught the tribes to make wax candles from animal fat, pitch-covered torches, and the parchment that was so hard to press. Laurent consumed so much of these that it was easier to gain part of their supplies by trading the herbal remedies some of the women made.
When she came within calling distance of the courtyard, Brielle sounded the signal that she was entering with outsiders who approached in peace.
An answering call came from Andre. His was a higher-pitched sound than the signals made by the grown men, but he’d worked hard to perfect the call in every other way. Hopefully, some of the men had also heard her, or at least Andre might go alert one of them.
Another call sounded in her uncle’s tone. Good.
The visitors followed her through the gate, and within minutes, women approached from many of the apartments.
After handing over the natives to her father so he could oversee the trading, she headed to their chamber to see what food Charlotte had left warming by the fire for her.
A chunk of roasted caribou sat on the rock where Charlotte left Brielle’s meals when she wasn’t there to eat with the family, and a basket of dried berries perched beside it. The usual fare, but the sight of it gave her a craving for one of Audrey’s rolls. She scooped up the meat and a handful of berries, then ate them as she made her way down the corridor.
Perhaps she could stop at Audrey’s on her way to the storage room. She hadn’t been able to talk with her friend since the ordeal with Gerald the day before. Had Audrey heard any rumors about what the man said about her? Papa had refused to tell Brielle what heinous thing he’d spoken, but it must have been bad.
She tapped on the rear door to the quarters where Audrey and her father lived. Her friend’s mother had died giving birth to her, so it had always been only the two of them living in this little apartment.
At Audrey’s soft “Enter,” Brielle pulled the latch stringand pushed open the door. The muffled snore sounding from the corner told her Audrey’s father’s location even before she slid her gaze around the room. He must still be sleeping from his drink the night before.
Audrey was kneeling beside the fire on the opposite wall, laying out dough on the metal rack Papa had built for her baking. She sent a bright smile as Brielle stepped into the room. “Come in. I have tea steeping, and these will be ready soon.”
Brielle dropped to her haunches by her friend’s side. “I can’t stay. I only stopped to tell you that a couple of the Dinee men have come to trade.”
Audrey flicked a glance toward the corner where her father’s snores still drifted through the bedcurtain. “I’m glad they’ve come. I don’t have need of anything today, though. I traded for our winter supplies the last time they came.” She’d probably calculated everything she would need through the winter to the last detail, then tucked each item in places her father wouldn’t find them.
Audrey had become adept at running their household seamlessly, despite her father’s propensity to overindulge. Strong drink was his main weakness, but when he began to imbibe, he tended to use up other resources, as though each item renewed itself automatically. Audrey had come home more than one afternoon to find a dozen candles lit around their quarters, burnt nearly down to nubs.
After adjusting the twist on a pastry, Audrey reached for a cup hanging from the wall and pulled the kettle from the coals. As she poured the steaming liquid, a rich sweetness wafted through the air. Audrey could tantalize the senses with even a cup of tea.
Brielle took the mug and breathed in the aroma oncemore, then shifted her focus to her friend while she waited for the drink to cool. How should she ask what Audrey knew of Gerald? A direct question would be easiest, but maybe this was one of those times she needed to find a way to skirt the topic until she’d tested the waters. Audrey’s feelings were worth the effort.
“I . . . um, how are Gerald’s injuries today?”
Audrey shot her a look hard to decipher. “I don’t know. Your father asked Jeanette to tend his injuries.” She straightened and released a sigh. “I gather whatever Gerald said spoke ill of me.”
As she stared into the fire, Brielle scrambled for what to say. Should she rest a hand on Audrey’s shoulder? She finally settled for the truth as best she knew. “Papa wouldn’t tell me what he said, but I gather it wasn’t a blight on your character. More like something no decent person would say of a woman.”
Red crept up Audrey’s ears as she grimaced, then met Brielle’s gaze. Her eyes were wide and searching. “I don’t understand what possesses people to say things like that. I mean, I know Gerald’s had a hard life. Especially since Chrissy . . .” Her words died away, but they both knew what she meant. When Gerald’s fiancée had been killed in the massacre by the Englishmen, the loss had changed him. Hardened him.
Another sigh slipped from Audrey as she turned back to stare into the fire. “I guess I thought maybe I could help him. He seemed to finally be opening himself up. . . .” She pressed her lips together. “I suppose I wasn’t making the difference I’d hoped.”
Brielle slid her arm around her friend’s shoulders, the act feeling perfectly natural with the moment.
Audrey leaned in and patted her arm. “I’m all right, truly I am. I know there’s good inside Gerald. I’ll just be more careful in how I seek it out.”
Brielle could only chuckle as she pulled back to let Audrey stir her stew. “You possess more good than all of us combined. I don’t know how you manage to always focus on the best in people.” But as she sipped the rich tea, the memory of Gerald’s angry expression slipped in. “I wish you’d be a little more careful, though. And stay away from Gerald. You can’t ignore all the vice in looking for the virtue.”
Audrey sent her a serene smile. “That’s why we make a good team, you and I. You press the knife blade until you’ve proven their mettle, then I come in and tend the cut mark.”
Brielle nearly groaned as her friend’s smile turned to a chuckle. She’d not pressed hard enough with Gerald. On the other hand, those words were too close to the mark concerning Evan. She still cringed at the pain she’d caused him, though she’d only been doing her duty to the village.
