The Fur Trader’s Lady (Ladies of the Wilderness #1)

11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

A wet day greeted Charlotte as they left the clerk’s building the next morning. Sometime in the middle of the night, clouds had moved in, and the rain had started to fall. It wasn’t a hard or steady rain, but a misty one that hung in the air and clung to her clothing like little beads of glass.

“Our brigade should be ready to depart soon,” Reid said to her as they carried their personal things to the warehouse where the cargo was stored. “I’d like to be off before the fort is awake, or it will take us longer to leave.”

Charlotte dipped her chin so the brim of her hat would protect her face from the rain. She had no desire to experience the extravagant departure she’d witnessed for the other brigades either.

The voyageurs assigned to Reid were gradually gathering in the warehouse. Charlotte recognized a few from her work with the inventory, but for the most part, this was a new group of men and women she’d not met. Besides Noemie, there were three other Indian and half-blood wives who would be traveling with them to Crow Wing. One had a baby in a papoose slung over her back, and another had two small boys clinging to her buckskin skirt.

“It’s a dreary day to begin,” Jean-Paul said to Charlotte and Reid when he spotted them. “But better to start out poorly and finish well than the other way around.”

Charlotte smiled warmly at his words.

“It’s good to see you again.” Noemie put her arm around Charlotte’s shoulders in a side embrace. “You disappeared last night before I could introduce you to a few of the young ladies.”

Reid’s head turned sharply at Noemie’s words. “Charlie is young.”

Noemie put her hand on Reid’s arm and smiled up at him. “You were even younger when you entered the trade, and I remember you had a bit of fun with the girls.”

Charlotte lifted her eyebrows at Reid’s embarrassment.

“Keep your matchmaking ways to yourself,” Reid cautioned the woman with a wink. “We don’t need any trouble on this trip.”

Noemie only chuckled at Reid’s warning.

“Noemie means well,” Reid said quietly as he led Charlotte away. “But she can be a little heavy handed when it comes to romance. Just try to ignore her.”

Charlotte had already determined to do just that.

“Since you’re the only clerk I have now, you’ll be doing the things Calum—”

She flinched at the name.

Reid put his hand on her upper arm. “We’ve seen the last of him. He admitted what he did was thoughtless, but I still threatened to share a few of his secrets if he foolishly chooses to share ours. He’s still sleeping off last night’s celebration and will be going to Rainy Lake, which is in the opposite direction we’re traveling.”

Nodding, Charlotte straightened her spine and forced herself to put Calum behind her. “Go on.”

He lowered his hand. “As I was saying, you’ll be doing his job now. I dinna have any other clerk but you.”

The reality that this job now fell on her shoulders was an enormous responsibility. Would she do it correctly? Would Reid be sorry he had to take her along?

“We will travel across Lake Superior for another two weeks, then we will cut inland and head west to the Mississippi. On this journey, your job will be to oversee the cargo and keep track of how much the men carry. When we get to our post, your duties will change, but I willna burden you with the details now. Are you ready?”

Her cassette sat next to her on the ground. The three outfits she owned were either on her person or in her bag. She was as ready as she’d ever be—even though she was moving farther away from home than before. Knowing Reid would be with her made the leaving more bearable. “I’m ready.”

He gave her a brief nod and a smile of encouragement, then he leapt onto a wooden box and lifted his hands to quiet the group. He was so tall, he hardly needed the box, but it gave him a commanding presence that silenced his men.

Reid wore brown breeches, a white shirt, and a dark blue coat. A white cravat was tied around his neck, and black boots came up to his calves, hugging his muscles. He was strong and handsome and completely in command of his brigade. Charlotte felt proud to stand with him as he took off his black top hat and put it under his arm to address the others. “There is no chapel for us to visit, so before we load our canoes to leave, I’d like to offer a word of prayer and commit this journey to our Lord.”

The voyageurs took off their red cloth caps, and Charlotte followed. Everyone bowed their heads, and some made the sign of the cross.

“Dear Heavenly Father.” Reid took a deep breath and then let out an exhale, his words filled with reverence and awe. “Your Word says that in his heart, man plans his course, but it is the Lord who determines his steps. May You guide our feet and protect us as we go. May we not stray from the path You have set before us—and into dangers unknown—but follow Your will, wherever it may lead. May our actions please You, and may we bring Your name and Your Word to people who do not know You. We dedicate this trip to You. In the name of Your son, our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, amen.”

“Amen,” the rest echoed.

Reid opened his eyes and nodded at the group. “Let’s be off.” He jumped from the box, and the group went into motion. The voyageurs pulled out their tumplines, secured them to the ropes on the bales, and then pulled the straps up to rest on their foreheads. They took off at a steady clip toward the lake.

This was a heartier group of men than the pork eaters. These north men were tough and seasoned, many of them having never left the interior once they had arrived. Some even born there. They were not softened by the luxuries of civilization but hardened by life in the wilderness.

A more joyful group of people Charlotte had never encountered. They sang and teased, many of them filling the warehouse with cheerful laughter.

The day took on a rhythm similar to the ones Charlotte had come to know on the journey to Grand Portage, though this time, she had far more responsibilities. The cargo was moved from the warehouse down to the pier, where ten smaller north canoes were waiting for them. These canoes were about half the size of the Montreal canoes and did not have seats built into the vessels. Instead, the passengers sat on the packages, with Charlotte in a different canoe than Reid.

The rain did not let up, and the clouds hung low and gray over the lake. It didn’t rain hard enough to stop their progress, so they paddled along the shoreline for almost twelve hours before Reid called an end to their long day.

By the time Charlotte stepped out of the smaller north canoe and into the water of Lake Superior, she was soaked to the skin.

As the men emptied the cargo onto shore, Reid approached her, his eyes filled with apprehension. “I’d like to continue sharing a tent with you.”

Charlotte hadn’t considered their sleeping arrangements until that moment. “Isn’t the assistant clerk assigned his own tent?”

“Aye.” He didn’t meet her gaze as he watched the men work. “But I dinna like the idea of you being on your own. I’d like to be able to keep an eye on you—especially at night.” And especially after what Calum had done—though he didn’t voice that memory.

It seemed strange to be given a choice to continue sleeping in Reid’s tent. Was it wrong to want to? She told herself it was his protection she craved and nothing more. But she couldn’t deny a desire to be with him, both day and night, and it frightened her. What would happen when all of this was over? Would she be content with Stephen?

Or would she still desire to be with Reid?

“Will anyone think it strange?”

“If they do, they willna say.” He planted his feet on the rocky beach. “I’m the bourgeois, and they willna question my authority.”

“Am I allowed to say no to you?” she asked quietly.

His gaze finally fell on her, his eyes hooded, rain dripping off the brim of his hat. “You’re always allowed to say no to me.”

A gust of wind blew off the lake, pushing against Charlotte’s back as his words settled into her heart. She couldn’t think of a thing that he would ask her that she would need to deny. Reid was honorable and trustworthy, and sleeping in his tent would pose no threat to anything but her heart.

The rain began to fall harder. They’d need to make their shelter soon.

She’d feel safer sleeping in Reid’s tent. It was that simple.

“All right.” She nodded. “I’ll share your tent.”

He didn’t respond, but he shifted his stance, and she knew he was pleased with her choice.

The wind continued to blow, whipping the canvas as the men tried to secure their tent. Jean-Paul and Noemie would also sleep in a tent, but the others, including the women and children, would sleep beneath the canoes.

“Shouldn’t the children be in a tent?” Charlotte asked as Reid tried to get their campfire to light. It smoldered, and the smoke burnt her eyes as it thrashed about in the wind.

“They are born into this wilderness,” he said, as if that was explanation enough. He squatted by the pitiful fire, trying to stoke it to life, but finally sighed. “This is useless.”

“What did you say?” Over the howling wind, she was uncertain she had heard him correctly.

“Nothing.” He tossed the flint and steel back into the box where he’d found them. “We’ll have to eat cold biscuits and pemmican for supper.”

Picking up the tinder box, he went to a voyageur in charge of rationing food supplies and took several biscuits and a handful of pemmican, then he nodded for Charlotte to follow him to their tent.

She had not eaten the food they called pemmican yet, but she’d inventoried the ninety-pound bags they had brought along for their sustenance. There were twenty bags of it in all.

When they were inside the tent, Charlotte tied the flaps closed.

Water dripped from her hat and made her boots slosh. Her clothing clung to her skin and weighed several pounds heavier than usual.

“We’ll need to get out of our wet things.” Reid set the food on his cot. “We don’t want to become ill.”

Charlotte had been wet on this journey before, but never this wet. Her clothes wouldn’t dry for hours if she sat in them. But what about her other clothes? Weren’t they also wet? They’d been exposed to the same elements as she had. Only their blankets were dry, having been stored in the center of the oiled canvas.

The wind blew, slashing rain against the slanted walls of the tent.

Reid took off his wet coat and hung it from one of the poles. It dripped against the grass beneath them. His back was toward her as he unbuttoned his shirt and slipped that off as well. His muscles bunched and lengthened as he hung his shirt next to his coat.

He looked over his shoulder at her. “Are you getting out of those wet things?”

“I’ve nothing else to wear.”

“Wrap up in your blanket.” His answer seemed like common sense, though under any other circumstances, she’d never think of it.

Sighing, she turned her back to him also and started to undress. Before she took off her shirt, she pulled the blanket off the cot and draped it over her shoulders. Then she removed her shirt, thankful the binding was still snug, and then her trousers.

The space was tight, and their elbows bumped.

“Pardon me.” Heat filled her cheeks, despite the cold, knowing they were both undressing.

“I’m finished.” He went to his cot.

She kept her long drawers on, though they were wet, and wrapped the blanket tightly around her. Even though everything was covered, there was still a level of intimacy she couldn’t deny as she turned and found Reid sitting on his cot bare chested, with his blanket wrapped around his waist.

He didn’t look at her, and she was grateful for the small level of privacy he offered.

Without speaking, she hung her clothes from another pole, sat on her own cot cross-legged like she’d seen the Indians do, and faced him.

After saying a prayer, he handed her a hard sea biscuit. They had been baked twice, to help preserve them for the long journey, and were difficult to eat. She usually soaked them in her tea, but she didn’t have any tea either.

“I’m sorry about the cold meal,” he said.

“I had worse on the ship coming over.”

He chewed on his biscuit for a minute, then lifted a piece of the leathery pemmican. “It is made of buffalo meat dried in the sun, pounded, and then mixed with grease and sometimes dried berries.” He looked closely at the pemmican. “This one looks like it has cranberries.”

She took it and inspected it herself. Trying not to wince, she held it up for him. “It looks like it has hair as well.”

Reid made a face, and she couldn’t help but giggle.

He took it back. “The biscuit will have to do for tonight. Usually, we boil the pemmican in water for an hour or two and then add vegetables and flour to make a stew. It’s called rubbaboo.”

Wrinkling her nose, she teased him. “I can’t wait to try it.”

He smiled and set aside the pemmican, studying her for a moment. “I admire you, Charlotte.”

She tugged the edges of the blanket closer together, uncomfortable with his praise and attention.

“Are you curious why?”

She shook her head—though she was very curious.

“I dinna ken another lady who would accept everything you’ve accepted and do it so gracefully.”

“I haven’t had much choice.” She looked down at the biscuit in her hands, thinking back to the reasons she’d come to North America. “This life is hard, but the one I left was much worse.”

“You’ve had a choice. Even though your circumstances brought you here, you’ve done everything without complaining.”

“I haven’t handled everything well.” Her tongue felt for the scab that had formed inside her lip from Calum’s attack.

“You’ve done better than most first-season clerks.” He held the biscuit but didn’t take another bite. “Better than I did my first season.”

She set her biscuit down. “That’s hard to believe.”

“I’m proud of you.” He nodded. “Very proud.”

His praise made her cheeks warm—his praise and his bare chest.

How would she ever look at Stephen and not compare him to Reid?

“When we arrive in Crow Wing, it will be a hard life.” He set the biscuit down on his cot and leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. The closeness of the tent meant he wasn’t far from her. “I wouldna have asked you to come, if I dinna think you could manage.”

The mention of Crow Wing brought back the memory of what Calum had told her about Reid’s plans. She’d all but forgotten after everything that had happened, but now the words came back in full force.

Reid was planning to marry the chief’s daughter—in just a few weeks.

Would it be wrong of her to ask him about it? Did she even have a right? He didn’t owe her any explanation or reason.

Yet she wanted one.

A gust of wind rattled the tent, making Reid pause for a moment as he waited to see if the stakes would hold.

Charlotte sat across from him, holding her sea biscuit, but not eating. Her hair was curliest when it was wet. It had grown since she cut it, and now, out of its queue, it coiled around her face in the most becoming way. She ran her hand through it in a habit she’d adopted since joining him, causing the thick strands to soften.

Without her clerk’s clothing or the hat that often hid her hair, she sat across from him wrapped only in a blanket, and he questioned the wisdom in suggesting they share a tent.

He found her more attractive with each passing day.

“You said you will try to restore trade relations with the chief.” She probed him with her eyes, and he sensed she wanted an answer to a question she was not asking.

“Aye.”

“How?”

He leaned back off his knees and took his time answering, wondering what she really wanted to know.

Darkness seeped into the tent and with it, the cold. His skin rose in gooseflesh, and he wished he had another blanket to wrap around his shoulders.

“There are many ways to restore trade relations,” he said hesitantly. “The Indians are very receptive to gifts, so we give them liberally.”

“The XY men don’t give gifts?”

“They do.”

“Then what other ways can you strengthen your ties?”

“We treat them well—” He stopped. “What do you really want to know, lass?”

She didn’t meet his gaze, and her cheeks turned pink in the fading light. “I heard you will marry the chief’s daughter.”

Calum. He was the only person Reid had told.

Reid stood, needing to move his restless legs. If only he had more space.

Why had Calum shared the information with Charlotte? It didn’t concern her.

“Is it true?” she asked.

“I dinna ken what I will do.” He walked to the tent opening, but didn’t move it aside. “I once made a promise to my mither that I would never take a country wife.”

“And now?”

“Now.” He sighed, turning back to look at her. “Now, I think I made that promise in haste. If I canna restore the relationship with Curly Head, I will fail at what I set out to do, and I wonder if breaking a promise to my mither is as bad as falling short of my goal.” At Grand Portage, he’d told the partners that he’d consider their request. It had been a way of appeasing them. But now, Reid wasn’t so sure. Perhaps he should think about marrying the chief’s daughter with the intent that she would be his one and only bride. Others had married for lesser reasons and found love.

Could he?

Charlotte toyed with a loose thread of her blanket. Something stirred in his heart as he studied her profile, partially hidden by her magnificent hair. It was a feeling he’d never experienced. Equal parts attraction and affection, and the desire to share everything with her. If he felt a fraction of this for Curly Head’s daughter, perhaps he could make a life with her.

Yet—he didn’t want to feel this for any other woman but Charlotte.

“The only thing I know is that life doesn’t always go according to our well-laid plans,” she finally said, lifting her beautiful brown eyes to him. “Sometimes, we are forced to do the very thing we never thought we would do.”

He was afraid of that very thing. If he gave in, what would prevent him from ending up like his father? A man who had sacrificed one family for another. But what was more important to him? Honoring a promise or reaching his goal—a goal that would also benefit his mother?

“’Tis getting late,” he said. “We should try to sleep.”

Charlotte was already wrapped in her blanket, so she simply lay down and turned her back to him.

Reid sat on his cot for a long time, thinking about his choices. There wasn’t much time to decide his course of action. When he arrived at Crow Wing, he would have to make up his mind about whether he would pursue Curly Head’s daughter. But he didn’t have all the information he needed either. Was a marriage necessary? Or was there another way to create an alliance with the Mississippi Band of Chippewa?

“I dinna want to make the wrong choice,” he said softly.

She was quiet for a moment. Then she whispered, “None of us do.” She shivered and tried to pull the blanket tighter. He couldn’t help but think they would stay warmer if they shared a cot—but he stopped his thoughts from wandering in that direction. Hadn’t he promised himself he wouldn’t put them in a position of temptation?

But hadn’t he done that very thing by suggesting they share a tent? Yet how could he protect her from dozens of men if she wasn’t near him?

“We simply do the next thing.” Charlotte turned to look at him. “Hoping it’s the right choice, and then deal with the consequences if it’s not.”

“But what if the choice I make does not please God?”

“God is bigger than our mistakes.” Her voice was gentle, but a look of conviction and certainty filled her eyes as she continued. “He knows we don’t have all the answers, and I think that’s why He gives us faith.” She paused, as if to consider her words. “Even if we take the wrong step, it’s an opportunity to learn something about ourselves and about God. My journey has shown me that grace and mercy go hand in hand with faith. When we make a mistake, if it’s done in faith, grace and mercy are there to lead us back to the right path. I’m not always certain that God hears my prayers, but I must move forward. And He has been there, each step of the way, showing me what to do when I need to make a choice, or if I’ve made the wrong one.”

Her words calmed him. He didn’t have all the answers, but he served a God who did. Even if he wasn’t certain which way to go, he prayed God would lead him back if he made the wrong choice.

“I’ll pray He makes my decision clear,” Reid said.

“I’ll pray for you too.”

Reid lay down on his side and studied Charlotte in the dying light. She looked at him openly and did not shy away from his gaze.

“Thank you, my lady.”

She smiled, yet there was sadness in the lines of her mouth. “I’ve almost forgot I’m a lady.”

“I could never forget.”

They lay like that for several minutes, until Charlotte’s eyes grew sleepy, and she finally closed them.

Reid did not fall asleep for a long time but lay in his cot, thinking on her words and wondering why God had allowed his path to cross with Lady Charlotte Fairfax.