“Arran MacLean.” McLeod shook his head, his lips turning up in a sneer. “We meet again, though I am not surprised to see ye are the head of this band of ruffians.”
The group with Arran could no more be called ruffians than a litter of puppies. They were hungry, destitute, and afraid. Without weapons, mourning the untimely death of loved ones, and forcibly removed from their homes, they posed no risk to anyone—let alone the Justice of the Peace and his hundred or more armed men.
McLeod had been the officer responsible for discharging Arran of his duties as a North West Company clerk when Duncan Cameron had falsely accused him of stealing from the company. No doubt, he would assume the worst of Arran and his men.
“I can only surmise that ye are the last of the settlers from Assiniboia?” McLeod asked. He smiled and a gleam filled his beady eyes. “Did ye have trouble?”
“Aye.” Arran had nothing but his wits and intelligence to defend himself and these hundred and fifty men, women, and children with him. “We have come from Assiniboia and have had a great deal of trouble.”
McLeod looked over the group and then nodded toward the shore. “I want everyone to disembark for a thorough investigation. I expect a full account of the events leading up to yer departure from the colony.”
Arran had hoped and prayed they could avoid McLeod. The man was known to be ruthless and single-minded. There was no telling what he might decide to do with the settlers. They had been so close—just a half-day more of travel and they would have been to Lake Winnipeg. They could have easily taken a different course along the lake to avoid McLeod if possible.
But none of that mattered now. “Disembark!” Arran called to his men. “Post-haste.”
A great commotion of humanity unfurled as almost three hundred people from both groups found their way to the riverbanks. Here, the land was full of marshes as they drewcloser to Lake Winnipeg. Mosquitoes swarmed and crickets hummed as the settlers tried to find enough solid ground to unload their belongings. Each time a canoe was brought onto land, it had to be emptied of all its weight or the thin bark lining the hull could easily be punctured.
Eleanor was quiet as she stepped out of their canoe. Arran helped her, Nicolette, and Miriam onto dry ground.
“Dinna be afraid,” he said quietly to Eleanor. “We’ll be on our way soon.”
McLeod’s men had also disembarked, and dozens of them circled the colonists with their muskets at the ready.
“What will happen?” Eleanor asked Arran as she eyed the Nor’westers.
“I will meet with McLeod and tell him exactly what happened at Seven Oaks. There are several witnesses to corroborate my tale. I will bring them forward.”
“He is a Justice of the Peace?” she asked. “He will see that justice is served?”
Arran did not have the heart to tell her that justice was the last thing McLeod would have in mind. He had come to help remove the settlers from Assiniboia, and he would not care how it was done. The most Arran could hope was that McLeod would allow them to proceed as planned. “Just sit here and rest. You’ve had a hard few days of illness.”
“If we had not stopped early last night for Miriam and me, and had left at daybreak today, could we have avoided these men?” She searched his face.
He would not tell her the truth. There was no point in heaping guilt upon her shoulders. “There is no way to know.” He tried to smile. “Please rest, for me.”
Her brown eyes filled with apprehension, but she nodded and offered him an encouraging smile. “I will pray.”
His heart was filled with such love and affection for her. She constantly amazed him with her fortitude and faith in his abilities. It warmed his chest and gave him the courage he would need to face McLeod.
James, Archie, Pritchard, John Burke, and another man, the blacksmith, Michael Heden, who had gone out to the plains with the second group of men, waited for Arran. They walked toward McLeod, who had set up a makeshift office, complete with a folding chair and traveling desk. Several pieces of paper and a feather pen were before him on the desk. At least a dozen of his men stood by, watching and waiting.
“Are these the only men who have an account to give?” McLeod asked Arran.
“Nay.” Arran crossed his arms and lifted his chin. “Every man, woman, and child in this party could give you an account of the horrors we have just endured.”
McLeod’s jaw tightened and he breathed through his nostrils. “I willna tolerate lies or innuendoes, MacLean. I simply want the truth.”
“Have you not heard?” Arran asked. “About the massacre at Seven Oaks?”
“Massacre?” McLeod’s eyes narrowed and he studied Arran. “What massacre?”
Arran, James, Archie, Heden, Burke, and Pritchard did not spare any details about the events leading up to, and comprising, the battle with the Bois-Brûlés. Pritchard even wrote down the account for McLeod. But the entire time the men recounted the affair, he did not ask any questions. He just listened, his face devoid of emotion.
Finally, when they had exhausted their story, McLeod stood, his face red. “I have never heard such rubbish in all my life. I dinna believe a word of it for a second.”
Arran pounded his finger on the paper Pritchard had written. “Every word of it is true.”
“I should have ye all arrested for libel against agents and clerks of the North West Company.” McLeod snapped his fingers and called two men over to his side. “I want a thorough search of everyone’s property. Bring me any books or papers ye find, so that I may use it in the court of law when I bring these people to justice.”
