“Bringusto justice?” James asked, holding his arm. Eleanor had tried to clean the wound and bandage it, but there had been no doctors to attend to the injury. “We’re innocent in this matter.”
“Are ye innocent in the removal and destruction of Fort Gibraltar?” McLeod asked.
“Aye!” James said emphatically. “Governor Semple, who was brutally murdered by your men, was responsible for Fort Gibraltar.”
“And are ye not the chief factor representing the Hudson’s Bay Company?” McLeod asked.
“Aye.”
“Then ye are guilty by association.”
“Guilty?” Arran could not sit back and let his friend be prosecuted for Semple’s mistakes.
“Dinna let me get started on ye, MacLean. Ye have been at the heart of Lord Selkirk’s colony for four years now. Every atrocity committed by the settlement is upon yer shoulders.”
“We’ve only been defending what is ours by right of the Royal Charter.” Arran’s fists clenched. “You have no right to accuse us and search the property of these defenseless settlers. They have nothing to do with these charges you’ve brought.”
“They have everything to do with them.” McLeod nodded to his men to begin. “Do ye have Semple’s things? Or did ye leave them at Fort Douglas?” he asked Arran.
Arran had no weapon or authority to stop McLeod. He would be forced to stand by and watch as McLeod’s men tore apart what few belongings the settlers had left. What did it matter if he kept Semple’s things a secret? The man would find them eventually.
“Aye. We have his belongings.” They had West’s trunk with his few personal possessions, as well.
“Bring it to me.”
Semple’s things were near Arran and Eleanor’s trunks, so he went that way, watching as McLeod’s men heartlessly ripped clothing, personal items, and utensils from bags, boxes, and trunks. There were only a few who possessed any sort of papers or books—all except Eleanor. She had one small trunk dedicated just to her books. They were dear and precious to her. She had read from them to the men in the governor’s house at Pembina over the long, cold winters, and on more than one occasion, Arran had witnessed her writing in her journal. She also used them to teach the children. Would they now become the property of Archibald McLeod?
Arran hastened his steps, needing to warn Eleanor to somehow protect and hide her journal. He did not know what it might contain, but if there was anything in there about the activities of the settlement, it would be confiscated by McLeod.
One of McLeod’s men trailed close on Arran’s heels.
“Eleanor.” Arran spoke her name on an urgent whisper. He busied himself with Semple’s trunk while speaking to her. “McLeod is looking through everyone’s things for papers and books that he might use against the settlement. He will take anything he finds.”
She did nothing more than nod, her gaze straying to McLeod’s man, who stood a little way off. Though she didn’t speak, he could see in her eyes that she clearly understood his meaning.
“I will take Semple’s things to McLeod,” he said loud enough for the man to hear, but then he dropped his voice, “but you must hide your journal if you—”
“You, there,” McLeod’s man said to Arran. “What are you saying to that woman?”
Arran lifted Semple’s trunk in his arms—which was not an easy feat—and turned to face the man who had addressed him. “I’m taking Governor Semple’s trunk to McLeod.”
“What were you saying to that woman?” The man was tall, with deep-set eyes. “Were you telling her to destroy something important?”
“Nay. I was explaining to her what McLeod plans—”
He pushed past Arran and stood in front of Eleanor. “What do you have?”
Eleanor sat on her trunk and stared at the Nor’wester. “Nothing.”
“Dinna bother her,” Arran told the man, venom in his voice. “She doesna have anything of importance.”
“I’ll let McLeod be the judge of that.” He took Eleanor by the arm and hauled her off her trunk.
Arran dropped Semple’s large trunk and pushed the Nor’wester aside. “Dinna touch her,” he said with a hiss. “Or you’ll have to deal with me.”
The Nor’wester lifted his chin and fisted his hands.
“What’s the meaning of this?” McLeod asked, walking toward Arran.
