And with that prayer, he started from the beginning. “I was born in Scotland. When my parents and brother died, I moved to America. I had little money, and the only jobs I could find were small or temporary. So, I enlisted in the United States Army. I worked my way up to captain, and eventually married a woman in the town where I had settled. A marriage of convenience for both of us. She’d lost her family and needed a home, I wanted to settle down, and she was a God-fearing woman of good reputation. Not long after that, the war with Britain started, and I was recruited by the army office to work as a spy.” Evan did his best to keep his voice level with that last word, even though Durand’s gaze sharpened on him.
“I was sent on various missions to infiltrate British camps and forts. My Scottish accent helped me pretend I was from Europe. While I was gone on one of those assignments, my wife took ill from a sickness she contracted in one of the war hospitals where she volunteered. When I came home on my next leave, I found that she had passed away.” Once again, he had to work to stabilize his voice.
“I mourned her death, and I mourned the fact she was alone at the end. I never should have put her in that situation.”
He inhaled a breath to steady himself. As difficult as this part had been to tell, the conversation would only become harder.
27
Evan met Durand’s gaze and refocused on the next facts. “I had already been assigned to my next mission, which was to go north into Upper Canada and infiltrate a fort there. The place was supposedly occupied by British soldiers and Indians who sided with the British. I was to help bring a wagon of explosives into the fort.
“Then, after I escaped, the wagoner would set off the explosive and get out, too. Everything had to move so quickly, so I ignored my inner warning about a few women and children I saw in the place. But at the end, after the explosion when the people were trying to escape the thick fort walls, the cries of the women and children were unmistakable. There must have been so many more than I thought. I still hear their screams.” It was impossible to keep the emotion from his voice.
“I came back to my commander’s office to resign my post. He wouldn’t accept my separation from the army and instead offered a mission to scout land in the west. Just to sketch the landmarks for a fort they wanted to build. That sounded harmless enough, and it was. After that journey wassuccessful, he assigned me another mission to go northwest and search for a mineral they thought would be found in the icy mountains that weren’t well-known.”
Evan paused. “I need to be candid with you, sir. I’ve been sworn to secrecy, so me telling you all this is direct disobedience to my orders.” At Durand’s answering nod, Evan continued. “One early explorer who had returned from that land made notes about seeing a substance that was likely this mineral. Pitchblende is what it’s called, and on its own it’s perfectly harmless. But our chemists have learned it can be used to make a giant explosive compound, large enough to destroy an entire regiment in battle. None of our soldiers would need to die. A few blasts like that, and the British would know there was no way they could withstand. The war would end decisively, and America could keep its lands.”
Durand studied him, the look in his eyes showing his mind was spinning with the news. Marking lines from one point to the next, comprehending the extent of Evan’s mission. “And have you found this pitchblende?”
Evan’s throat closed up, making it hard to get out the words he had to. “I believe I have. I think I located it in the walls of your large meeting room. After the feast, I snuck out and cut some out, enough to bring back to the army’s chemists. When they confirm it truly is the mineral they need, and that its explosive properties will create the blast they expect, they’ll want to send miners to cut out as much of the mineral as they require.”
The man’s expression didn’t change much while Evan spoke, but his skin grew paler. A new fear slipped in. Was Durand’s heart strong enough to bear up under the weight of this burden?
Thank the Lord this was the extent of the bad news Evan had to impart.
Well ... unless Durand considered Evan’s intentions toward his daughter ill tidings. And he might.
Evan’s mouth went dry as he worked for the right words. “Your daughter is a special woman. I didn’t know there was anyone out there like her. I haven’t spoken to her of this, so I don’t know for sure if she would consider me. And I know it’s too soon to say what I feel for her is love ... but it sure does feel that way. If Brielle will have me, I want to return to the States and resign my commission. For good. Then come back here and make a life with her. With you all.”
There. He’d said everything. His thoughts and plans and intentions—and even his heart—laid bare. This man had the power to crush them all. To crush his very life. The strength seeped from his limbs as he watched the man’s reaction.
Durand still studied him, his thoughts impossible to decipher from his expression. When he spoke, the direction of his conversation didn’t ease Evan’s angst any. “And what of the mineral your government needs? When you take the pieces back to them, what will they do? You say they’ll send miners. Will they destroy our mountain? Our homes? Will they take our land and kill our people? What will be left in Laurent for you to make a life in?” The man’s voice held no anger—an admirable feat, for surely the thought of strangers tearing apart his home inspired at least a bit of fury. But his questions were spoken almost casually, as though he was asking what Evan planned to eat for his evening meal.
He swallowed hard at the lump in his throat. “I don’t know. The army needs a great deal of the pitchblende. And quickly. So I suspect they would send thirty or forty men.They would cut into the walls as far as necessary to gather what they need. They wouldn’t take possession of your land, but I don’t know how much they would have to cut away. I don’t know what the condition of the homes would be in afterward. When the war is finished, my country may be willing to send people back to help rebuild your homes.”
A paltry offering. And he couldn’t be sure of even that.
He could only control his own actions. “I’ll do everything I can to help put things back together quickly. But one thing I can promise—I’ll give my last breath to help bring Laurent back to its former glory.” He tried to summon a bit of humor to lighten the weight of the topic. “If there are any changes you’ve been wanting to make, this would be a good opportunity to carry them out. Perhaps we can incorporate more cookstoves or other modern inventions that might make your lives easier.”
The moment the words slipped out, he wanted to pull them back. He certainly wouldn’t gain the man’s favor by implying that changes were needed in his home or the village for which he was responsible.
Durand sat for another long moment, his eyes glistening with a sadness impossible to miss. Evan tried to prepare himself for the worst.
In truth, there was no good response the man could offer. Evan had asked for his daughter’s hand, or at least the chance to ask Brielle. But just before that, he’d told the man he’d been tasked with a mission that would destroy their home and the village they’d invested lifetimes into building and protecting. It was a wonder the man hadn’t slapped him in the face or called for a guard to prepare a noose for him.
At last, Durand spoke, and Evan’s lungs seized from themoment the man’s mouth opened. “If the council votes favorably toward you, then I give you leave to speak with Brielle as you requested. My daughter is wise. She’ll make her own way, and I trust her judgment. But if they send you away, that is also my answer regarding my daughter.”
Was that a positive answer? At least the man hadn’t spoken a vehement no. The tension in the air snaked around Evan’s neck and squeezed as he waited for Durand’s verdict on the other matter.
“My mind is split about how to respond to your other news. If this pitchblende truly has the ability to end a war and stop so much killing, as you say, how can we keep it to ourselves? I fear, however, the matter is not so easily solved. Is my people’s comfort and safety worth allowing such destruction into our homes? And yet, if I say no, how are we to stop such a large nation from taking what they want anyway?”
As the man paused, the gap in his reasoning sprang to the forefront in Evan’s mind. They need only kill Evan to stop America from learning that the pitchblende could be found in Laurent’s walls. That would protect Laurent and keep its walls intact. Was he not considering this an option any longer?
Durand spoke again. “In truth, it’s not wholly my decision. I must bring it before the council.” The man’s brows formed aVas his expression turned even more troubled. “I will tell them I’m extending my protection to you. That I believe you are a man of honor and will do everything in your power not to hurt our people or our homes. But that is all I can do. The others must make their own decisions.”
A wash of emotion flooded through Evan, stealing the strength from his limbs. Yet he wasn’t quite sure if the emotion was relief ... or fear.
A tingle passed over Brielle’s body as she straightened her braid and glanced around their quarters. Did she need anything else? What would the council ask of her? And why would they call a sudden meeting on such a busy day as this? The storm had barely subsided outside, yet Andre had woken her from her nap with an urgent summons from Papa and the council.
