How could life be so beautiful and so heartbreaking at the same moment?
Eleanor had been warned not to walk about the ship unescorted, especially here on the deck where the sailors roamed freely, but the lights were so mesmerizing, she could not withdraw.
She stood for several minutes in the silence, her mind shifting between the harsh realities of life and the stunningly beautiful display of God’s creation. There were only a few sailors near the ship’s wheel, but they were too enchanted by the phenomena to pay her any attention.
A crashing noise pulled her eyes from the lights, and she watched in horrified fascination as an iceberg floated nearby, some two hundred feet high. There was enough light for her to see the dips and valleys of the massive mountain of ice. A large piece broke off the berg and fell against itself, sounding like distant thunder. The captain had said these came from off the tip of Greenland and as they floated south, they began to melt as this one was doing.
Shivering, Eleanor stared for a long time at the sights around her, marveling that she’d had the courage to finally travel to this remote and desolate place to start a school. What other wonders existed in the world? All she’d ever known was England and Scotland. The only things she knew about the world beyond Great Britain were from the stories Arran had told her.
Just thinking of Arran made her close her eyes, and wrap her arms around herself, recalling the last night she had seen him. They had been at St. Mary’s Isle Priory, walking in the park-like gardens of her cousin’s home. He spoke about thingssuch as the aurora borealis and the buffalo and Indians on the North American prairies with such fascination, she had been enthralled by his words. He had told her about his plans to help colonize Lord Selkirk’s land and the need for ministers, doctors, and teachers. Her heart had bonded with his as she imagined a school for the colony children, even as she knew her dream to join him was impossible.
He had been impossibly tall, and his shoulders were broad and built strong from hard work. When she stood beside him, his height and breadth did not intimidate her, like it did others. On the contrary, it had made her feel safe and protected. His eyes, which were so brown they were almost black, had watched her gently in the moonlight, as if taking great pleasure in what he saw. He made her feel beautiful and enchanting, though she knew herself to be simple and sensible. Arran was a handsome man, but more than that, he was kind and good and full of passion to make his mark on the world.
When he had proposed marriage and asked her to go with him to colonize the Red River Valley, she had wanted to say yes—with all her heart—but the fortress of lies her father had created forced her to say no. Father’s debts were so overwhelming, he needed Eleanor to marry a wealthy suitor. It was the only thing that could save them. She was embarrassed by her father’s lack of self-control and could not tell Arran the real reason, so she had told him she was too frightened to go with him.
The pain in his eyes and voice had broken her heart and intensified her own sorrow. Rejecting his proposal had been the hardest thing she’d ever done. As she watched him walk away, she knew she was making a mistake, but obligation, and fear for her father’s future, had kept her from chasing after him. She had resigned herself to marrying a man she did not love to save her father from ruin.
Eleanor opened her eyes and stared at the shifting aurora borealis, wondering how Arran would receive her when she arrived in Assiniboia. Would he be happy to see her, or would he be angry and bitter? Had he fallen in love and married another?
After Father’s scandal, she’d been shunned by her peers and her marriage proposals had vanished. There was no other choice but to flee to Scotland, to the home of her cousin, Lady Selkirk. It took three long years, but Eleanor had finally convinced Lord Selkirk to let her go to the colony and start a school. She needed to prove to herself that she was valuable beyond being a pawn in her father’s marriage schemes. That she could pursue a dream, the same as all the other colonists, even if she had no concept of the harsh reality of life on the North American plains.
It wasn’t just bravery or courage that had compelled her to come—though it had taken a great deal of both. It wasn’t simply adventure or excitement, or even to be a part of history. She was also going to the colony to tell Arran MacLean she had been wrong to turn down his marriage proposal. She should have had the courage to stand up to her father and follow her dreams three years ago.
She only hoped it wasn’t too late.
Chapter Two
August 6, 1815
The stifling August sunshine beat against Arran’s back as he lowered another log into the groove that had been notched in the corner post. Holding the opposite end of the log, James McIntosh watched to make sure it was placed correctly. The method, called pièce sur pièce, had allowed them to rebuild half a dozen settlement houses without nails in the six weeks since Colony Gardens had been burned.
“I expect the colonists to return from Jack River House any day,” James said as he stepped back to admire his work after the log was in place. This was the last portion of the wall to finish before they could start on the roof. The cabins were not large, but they would act as protection for the settlers when they returned.
“Aye.” Arran lifted his canteen and took a long swig. The tepid water did not refresh him, but it did ease his thirst. He took the opportunity to scan the prairie, always alert for the threat of attack. They’d had relative peace since June, but he could never let down his guard. No doubt the Bois-Brûlés were regroupingand waiting for Duncan Cameron, the bourgeois of the North West Company fur post at Fort Gibraltar, to return from Montreal. He’d gone there to take Governor Macdonell to trial, as well as guide the hundred and fifty settlers he had convinced to abandon Assiniboia for good. “I wish we could have all the houses ready when they return.”
With the aid of the thirty voyageurs who had come from Jack River House in response to Arran’s call for help, and the dozen or more mixed-race men they’d employed from a village upriver, they had managed to rebuild some of the cabins, erect several fences, and maintain the crops that had been planted earlier that spring. They had also cut and stacked the mature hay and repaired some of the buildings that had not been completely destroyed. The first bumper crop of wheat was turning golden in the fields along the banks of the Red River, and if all went well, they would have a decent yield of corn to add to the storehouse.
“Everyone will be pleased to see that not all was lost.” James bent to lift the next log they would slip into place. “The colony continues.”
Arran picked up the opposite end and lifted it high over his head to put it into the groove. His shirt was wet with perspiration and the scars on his hands were sore from chopping and preparing the logs. As soon as the log was in place, he flexed his hands and rubbed the deepest scar between his right thumb and forefinger.
A greeting call came from the riverbank and a gun fired from Fort Douglas in response.
“It looks like we willna have to wait much longer.” James grinned and set the log in place, shaking it to make sure it was secure.
Arran lifted his canteen and picked up the few tools he’d brought with him from the fort. He also grabbed his musket, which was his constant companion, and set it over his shoulder.Their horses were tethered just behind the cabin, munching on the tall prairie grass. After putting their tools into their saddlebags, and their muskets into holders, they mounted their horses and rode for Fort Douglas.
A line of clouds marred the western horizon as Arran pushed Tiberius across the expanse between the gardens and the fort, skirting the back edge of the river. From where he sat in his saddle, he could see the canoes gliding to a stop at the foot of Point Douglas. Six canoes in all, each carrying eight or nine colonists and more Hudson’s Bay Company voyageurs.
They would have news from Jack River House and would be full of questions about the situation at Assiniboia. Arran himself had questions he could not answer, though he’d done his best to oversee the work of the colony. He’d sent runners with letters addressed to Lord Selkirk. One letter he’d sent north, toward Hudson Bay, and the other he’d sent east, toward Montreal. If one of them was intercepted by the Nor’westers, then hopefully the other would get to the colony’s founder. Even though Lord Selkirk was in Scotland, he must be made aware of the grave danger the settlers faced. If something wasn’t done soon, Arran was concerned all would be lost.
Old John had been left at the fort while the others had been working. The seasoned fur trader now opened the stockade gates wide to allow Arran and James to enter.
The fort was large, housing several buildings, including the governor’s two-story home, the barn, the blacksmith, the main hall, and the Hudson’s Bay Company row house and store. At two corners, opposite each other, were lookout towers, and around the whole was a tall stockade.
“Is it Colin Robertson and the settlers from Jack River House?” Arran asked as he slid off his horse to the ground, certain it could be no other.
“Aye.” Old John’s eyes glowed and Arran didn’t wonder why. No doubt Widow MacDougal would be among the settlers. “I hope they’ve not had any trouble coming up the Red.”
