7. Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
N ot a cloud marred the blue sky as the voyageurs pulled to shore, just a mile away from Grand Portage. For as far as Charlotte could see, Lake Superior spread out before her like a vast freshwater ocean. The shoreline was mountainous, with smooth pebbles and driftwood on the beach, and tall pine trees reached toward the heavens. Several voyageurs jumped from their canoes into the frigid water with excitement.
For two weeks, they had crossed this magnificent lake. Several storms had slowed their progress, but on the good days, when the wind was favorable, they had set sails in the Montreal canoes and had arrived at Grand Portage sooner than expected.
“Wash with haste,” Reid called to the men. “I want to reach Grand Portage before nightfall.”
The brigade had stopped to bathe and change into their cleanest clothes. Charlotte was thankful that she would have this opportunity, knowing she was just a couple hours away from being reunited with Stephen for the first time in years. She might have to greet him in men’s clothing—but at least they would be clean.
Two men stood by the canoes, holding them in the water, so they wouldn’t have to unload their cargo. Charlotte left her canoe, followed close by Reid. She stepped into the water, bracing herself for the cold.
After the night Reid had discovered her picture of him, she purposely erected a wall between them. It was the only way she could protect her heart. Soon they would be separated, and she didn’t want to have any regrets. She was promised to another man, and she would honor that promise, no matter how difficult it might become.
It hadn’t been easy to keep her distance from Reid—emotionally or physically—but she had done her best. She went to bed before him, awoke before him, and never went off with him alone to see the things he wanted to show her when they camped each night.
In turn, he had stepped back as well, and they had maintained a cool distance—though Charlotte missed their easy friendship.
Despite the cold water, the men began to strip down to their drawers to bathe.
Doing her best to avoid them, Charlotte walked to the shore, her back to the lake.
“There’s a stream over there,” Reid said behind her. “Beyond the outcropping. I’ll watch to make sure no one disturbs you.”
She clutched her personal bag and nodded but did not turn to acknowledge him. Yesterday, in preparation for their arrival, all the men—including Charlotte—had washed one set of clothes. Hers were in her bag, along with her company-issued soap, a brush, and a wide strip of clean linen she would use to bind her breasts. The one she wore was soiled from use, and she’d be glad to wash it with her other clothes.
The sun was bright and the air warm, but she knew better than to strip down to her drawers and risk someone finding her that way. Instead, when she found the stream Reid had mentioned, she walked right in, clothes and all.
The water was warmer than she expected, and she dipped underneath, allowing it to rinse every part of her body.
Over the past weeks, she had regained her health and the weight she had lost. Her muscles had become firmer with all the portages they had crossed, but she was still lean. She’d never felt healthier in her life. What would Stephen think when he saw her? Would he be shocked? Every time she looked at her tanned reflection in the water, it still surprised her.
Unbuttoning her shirt, she reached inside and unbound the strip of fabric around her chest. When it floated free, she washed it with the soap and threw it on shore, then she washed her skin. The soap was a luxury in this wilderness that she did not take for granted.
Keeping her shirt on, she buttoned it again and then took off her trousers, socks, and drawers. Staying under water, she washed those as well, and then threw them on shore next to her bag.
After her clothes were washed, she washed the rest of her body, including her hair. It was thick and unruly, but she didn’t mind. It was growing quickly and might need to be trimmed again before her return trip to Montreal if she wanted to convince the men that she was one of them.
Just thinking about her return trip made her stomach tighten with dread. So many things were still uncertain. Would Stephen be allowed to return to Montreal with her? Would she go back as a clerk, with her own tent to sleep in? How would they convince their superiors to let a first-year clerk who had signed a five-year contract return to Montreal? If they did and she didn’t have Stephen’s or Reid’s protection, would she have the same luxuries as she had coming? Who would shelter her from the pork eaters?
She took a deep breath and decided not to worry. God wouldn’t forsake her now, would He? Hadn’t God brought her to Reid? Maybe God still cared about her, after all. So far, He’d kept her safe from Roger and allowed her to come this far without serious incident. Maybe the rest of her plan would proceed as she hoped and she’d be married to Stephen before the day’s end.
A deer came to the water’s edge and dipped its head to drink from the stream. It didn’t seem to notice Charlotte, and if it did, it wasn’t alarmed.
She floated in the water longer than she should have, but thoughts of marrying Stephen brought on more worries. Would she find him as attractive as she found Reid? Stephen had been her childhood friend and nothing more. Though she loved him, she’d never had romantic feelings for him. If she didn’t find him attractive, would it matter? He had offered to marry her and protect her from her guardian. Even if she didn’t find him attractive, she suspected she would eventually love him. She already cared deeply for him, didn’t she?
“Charlie?” Reid called to her from the other side of the outcropping. “Are you done?”
“Soon!” She scrambled out of the water, trying to pull her shirttail down to cover her bare bottom. The fabric stuck to her body, and she prayed no one had gotten past Reid. Without her binding, there was no way to hide her identity.
Working as quickly as she could without the aid of a towel, she stepped closer to the outcropping for privacy and slipped the shirt off. She bound her breasts with the linen and then put on her drawers. Her clothes were wrinkled and stiff, but at least they were clean and dry. She put on her shirt, buttoned it to her throat, and then put on her trousers and tucked her shirttails into the waist. Over her shirt, she put on her jacket, and then her boots, and pulled out her hat. After brushing her hair and trying to rub it dry with her hands, she finally put on her hat and stuffed all her wet clothes into her bag.
All the other men were in the canoes already, impatiently waiting for her—all of them except Reid, who waited on the beach.
More than one voyageur rolled his eyes at her, and several shook their heads. No doubt they thought she was an effeminate man who wouldn’t survive long in the interior, but she didn’t care. Not today. Not when she was so close to Stephen.
“Ready?” he asked her, and knew he meant more than her appearance. Was she ready to see Stephen? To get married? To leave Reid’s side?
What other choice did she have?
“Yes.”
His eyes were hooded and his jaw was set, but he nodded and indicated the canoes. “Let’s be off.”
The men sang their cheeriest song as they started toward Grand Portage.
Reid had explained to her that the XY men had a fort near the North West Company fort, but they did not coexist. If anything, there was usually fighting between the two groups, and the voyageurs were ordered to stay at their own forts. As a passenger with the XY Company, Roger would not be welcomed into the North West Company fort—but that might not stop him.
Charlotte had assured Reid that if she was caught, she would deny that he knew about her identity, protecting him from losing his job. She hoped it did not come to that.
Less than twenty minutes later, the brigade rounded a bend, and Grand Portage came into view. The North West Company fort sat in a large bay at the base of a mountain, with an island positioned in the middle of the bay. Jutting out from the land was a long pier where several boats were docked and being unloaded. Reid’s brigade was not the only one that had arrived that day.
Cannon shot sounded from the fort, and Charlotte jumped. She reached out and clasped Reid’s arm, but he only laughed.
All around her, the voyageurs lifted their colorful paddles and shouted in response. Grins split their faces as another cannon shot burst into the air and several men ran out of the fort to the pier to greet them. A NWC flag flew proudly above the fort, silhouetted by the brilliant blue sky.
With renewed strength, the pork eaters thrust their paddles into the water and went double time until they reached the pier.
“Bienvenue!” shouted several men in greeting when the canoes docked.
Reid was the first to climb out of the canoe and up the ladder to the pier. Charlotte followed, and then the others disembarked.
“Reid!” A man with brown muttonchops, dressed in the finest clothes Charlotte had seen since leaving London, clasped hands with Reid and grabbed his shoulder in greeting. “Welcome back.”
“’Tis good to be back.” Reid’s smile lit his face and eyes. He turned to Charlotte. “This is my newest assistant, Charlie Crawford.”
“’Tis a pleasure to meet you, Charlie.” The other man extended his hand, and Charlotte took it. He had a strong, confident grip.
“Charlie, this is Joseph McDonnell, one of the wintering partners and a good friend.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. McDonnell.”
“An English lad?” Joseph turned a surprised eye to Reid. “Where’d you find him?”
“He’s my mither’s kin.” Reid was vague, but Joseph didn’t seem to mind.
“Supper is just about ready,” Joseph said. “Are you hungry?”
“Famished.” Reid waited for Calum to disembark from his canoe and then the four of them walked up the wide pier to the fort’s gate. A large meeting hall facing the lake dominated the stockade. Several other buildings fanned out around it, with a large open yard in front.
Outside the stockade, hundreds—maybe even a thousand—voyageurs milled about under the hot sun. Tents, canoes, and other temporary shelters spread out along the lake for as far as she could see on either side.
“The pork eaters are camped over there.” Calum pointed to the right as they followed Reid and Joseph. “The north men are on that side.” He indicated the left of the fort. “You won’t see them mingling, if they have a choice.”
“Where do the officers sleep?”
They stepped into the stockade, and the smell of campfire smoke wafted on the breeze.
“We sleep inside the stockade in dormitories. McTavish and Mackenzie have sleeping quarters in the Grand Lodge, since they are the founding shareholders. The rest of the shareholders have individual rooms in one building, while the clerks sleep four to six per room in another.”
She’d be sleeping with other men on her wedding night? She hadn’t even thought about it until now.
“Have you seen the men from the Upper Red River District?” Reid asked Joseph casually.
She held her breath, waiting for Joseph’s answer. Stephen served in the Upper Red River District.
“Aye. I was just speaking to George McKay in the Great Hall before I came to meet your brigade. They’ve been here for over a week and plan to depart early tomorrow morning, since they have such a long trek back to their posts.”
Tomorrow? Charlotte’s stomach tightened, thinking how close they’d come to missing Stephen. What would she have done if he had left before she arrived? The very thought made her ill.
“Do you have business with one of the Red River men?” Joseph’s blue eyes were clear and bright as he studied Reid.
“Aye.” Reid did not offer more information, and Joseph did not ask.
A blacksmith, cooper, tinsmith, and others had set up their shops in the stockade and were doing brisk business as Charlotte and the others walked by. A group of men played a game inside the stockade yard that she had witnessed several Indians playing when they had passed through a village several weeks back. Reid had called it lacrosse. About two dozen men ran back and forth across the yard with sticks in their hands, trying to capture a cloth ball. Several were tackled in the pursuit, which made Charlotte flinch.
Joseph led them up a set of stairs onto a wide porch and through double doors into a large room. Dozens of tables lined the space, and they were filled with over a hundred well-dressed men laughing, drinking, and visiting. The din echoed off the walls and high ceiling. Two large fireplaces flanked the room, and at least a dozen glass windows looked out at the lake.
Was Stephen in this room?
Many of the men looked up when they entered and called out to Reid and Calum. Boisterous laughter grated on Charlotte’s ears as she searched the room for her fiancé.
“The Upper Red River men are over here,” Joseph said, leading them to the opposite corner of the room.
They were forced to step around tables and benches, and Charlotte jammed her shins against the unforgiving wood.
Several Indian women entered the room from the back door, carrying elegant platters, bowls, and steaming tureens. Fine china had been set before the men with silver utensils, glass cups, and linen napkins.
As they drew closer to the table against the far wall, Charlotte swallowed her disappointment.
Stephen was not among the Upper Red River men.
Maybe he had stepped away for a moment.
She scanned the room again, searching desperately for his familiar face. Had he changed so much that she didn’t recognize him?
“Welcome, McCoy!” One of the men moved to the side and made room for Reid. Two others did the same, making space available for Charlotte and Calum.
“I’ll see you later,” Joseph said to Reid. “We have much to say to one another.”
Reid shook Joseph’s hand and took his seat across from Charlotte and Calum. His gaze skimmed Charlotte’s, but he said nothing to her.
As the women served the meal, Reid spoke to the gentleman to his right. Charlotte could not stomach the food set before her, though it was delectable fare and a far cry from what they’d eaten on their voyage. Roasted chicken, boiled potatoes, gravy, cranberries, green beans, fresh bread, venison, blueberry sauce, and more.
“Did Stephen Corning come to the Rendezvous?” Reid finally asked his dinner mate.
“Corning’s been ill,” the other man said, shoving a chicken leg into his mouth. He pulled out the clean bone and set it on his plate.
“Ill?” Reid stopped eating and glanced at Charlotte. “Was he able to travel?”
“Forced to stay at his post on the Upper Red River. He wanted to come, but he was delirious with fever when we left him. Couldn’t wait another day, since we have so far to travel.” The man pulled apart a biscuit and slathered it with butter. “Might be dead, for all I know.”
Charlotte fisted her hands and dropped them to her lap. She’d never fainted in her life, but she came perilously close now as her vision began to dim. She wanted to cry out that the man must be mistaken, but she held her tongue and swallowed several times, trying not to weep.
Stephen hadn’t come to Grand Portage? Had possibly died?
Reid’s eyes were hard as he looked at Charlotte.
She could only stare at him. What would she do now?
He nodded at her plate, indicating that she should try to eat.
But she couldn’t. Her stomach rolled, and she was afraid she’d lose its contents on the table.
“Excuse me.” She stood, needing to be free from the room before she made a spectacle of herself.
Reid wiped his mouth and watched Charlotte stumble through the Great Hall. He clenched his jaw and took a steadying breath.
“Excuse me.” He stood and nodded toward her. “He looks ill. I better direct him to the lavvy.”
Laughter followed Reid as he moved through the room to catch up to Charlotte.
He found her on the front porch clutching one of the posts, her face as white as her shirt.
“The lavatory is this way.” He took her arm and led her across the length of the porch, down a set of steps on the side of the building, and around the back. When they reached the lavatory, he let her go. No one stood in the yard behind the Great Hall, and a quick check of the outbuildings told him they were alone.
“What will I do?” Charlotte placed her hands on either side of her face, tears in her eyes. “What if Stephen is dead?”
“You dinna ken if he’s dead.”
“What if he is?”
“We’ll deal with it when the time comes.”
“But what will I do until I know? I can’t stay here—and I can’t go back to Montreal or England without being married.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll think of something. I won’t leave you stranded.”
“But what can I—”
“McCoy?” Someone called for Reid from the front porch. “Are you out here? McTavish wants to see you.”
“I’m here,” he called back. “I’m coming.”
“I’ll let him know you’re on your way,” the man answered.
As the founding partner, Simon McTavish was the most important man in the North West Company. Reid had only met him a handful of times, and none of those had been at McTavish’s request. What could he want with Reid now?
“Wait a few minutes and then come back inside,” Reid told Charlotte. “Stay close to Calum and hide your emotions. I’ll find you when I’m finished with McTavish, and we’ll decide what to do next.”
“What about Roger? What if he sees me?”
“He willna be inside the stockade. You’ll be safe enough for now.” He paused and weighed the wisdom in his words. “Calum knows who you are. He’ll protect you if something happens.”
Her eyes grew wide. “Calum knows?”
“He’s known since you were sick.”
She nodded but didn’t respond. He wished he could stay with her and reassure her—but he wasn’t sure at all what to do with her now. And with McTavish summoning him, he had little time to worry.
He strode back to the Great Hall, his thoughts churning like the waves crashing into the shore near the pier. Had Rutherford been to see McTavish? Had he told Reid’s superiors about Charlotte? What if he had? Reid would hate to lie and tell them he hadn’t known about her identity, but she had asked him to do that if the truth was revealed.
And worse, what if Rutherford claimed Charlotte? He had a legal right to take her away. She was not yet twenty-one. The thought of Rutherford taking Charlotte as his bride made Reid’s gut tighten with anger.
Heart thumping, Reid entered the Great Hall and went directly to McTavish’s private quarters, uncertain what to expect.
No matter what happened, he would not leave Charlotte at the mercy of Rutherford—of that, he was certain.