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

12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

A five-week trip had taken them seven, and they were still not at their final destination. Heat and humidity bore down on the brigade as it wound its way around another bend in the narrow Mississippi River. On both sides of the river, the woods were thick and lush. Mosquitoes plagued the men as they paddled, forcing them to travel in the middle of the river, as far away from the riverbanks as possible, where the worst of the insects resided. Reid’s patience had been tried to the point of breaking with the number of accidents and illnesses they had encountered on the journey.

On top of the difficulties, the blinding sun had produced a headache that throbbed behind his eyes, and the heat warmed the water, bringing with it the smell of rotting fish. His stomach turned with the pain from his head, and he wanted nothing more than to lie in a cool, dark room—but there was no opportunity. Already, it was mid-August and there was much work to be done before the Indians came to trade. He could not afford another stop, even if it was a short one.

In the canoe next to him, Charlotte watched him closely, concern and empathy in her gaze. During their last pipe break, when he’d done nothing more than lean over the side of his canoe and dip his hands into the tepid water to wash his face, she’d suggested they stop and make camp, but he’d firmly said no. Their final stop on this nightmare of a journey would be their wintering post, come what may.

Now, slicing through the water, he was thankful he’d insisted they continue, as he saw smoke rise from a distance not too far downriver. Several of the north men had left wives and children behind at the post. They would have planted gardens, tied fishing nets, and laced snowshoes in preparation for the winter. There would be a great celebration when the men finally returned after being gone several months.

“We’re drawing close,” Jean-Paul called from his spot in the lead canoe. “Not much farther.”

Once they arrived, they would be busy settling in before nightfall, but it would be good to finally sleep in a feather-tick bed again, to have a roof, four walls, and a floor beneath his feet, and to have a fireplace that did not require cooking outside. The post that Andrew Fraser built was five years old, so it might need some improvements, but it would be easily inhabited.

Jean-Paul led the men in a lively song of “Alouette, Gentille Alouette,” as they paddled with precision. Reid closed his eyes, thankful the guide was capable, but wishing he could ask them not to sing. It made his head hurt worse, though the song was necessary for the voyageurs to keep up their pace.

“XY Company post ahead,” Jean-Paul called out, stopping the song of the voyageurs.

Reid opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw was the red-and-yellow XY Company flag high above the stockade along the banks of the river. It hung limp on its post, with very little wind to make it snap in this humidity.

Just outside the post stockade, three Indian tepees, covered in birch bark, were in residence. A family went about their work, stopping to watch Reid’s brigade paddle by but showing no sign of recognition.

A shout within the stockade soon brought out a dozen or so men. They ran out of the post gate and shot pistols in the air, calling out threats and obscenities.

Several of Reid’s men answered the call and returned their own threats in response.

“Do not engage,” Reid ordered his men. “Stick to the course and save your energy. Our fight is much bigger than a few cowardly remarks they can throw at us.”

It only took a few minutes to paddle past the XY post, and Reid refused to give them more attention than they were due. He wanted to search the crowd for his half brother, but from this distance, and because he didn’t know what his brother looked like, he kept his face forward. There would be time to meet his brother later, but that time was not now.

“ Alouette, gentille alouette , Alouette, je te plumerai. ” Jean-Paul picked up the lyrics where he’d left off, his jolly voice reminding the men that they had a job to do.

Not more than a mile downriver, they came to Curly Head’s village. About three dozen wigwams were scattered around the clearing, with women and children working close to their homes and the men working down by the riverbanks, fishing and building canoes.

Several children ran to the river to wave at the brigade as it paddled past, and the voyageurs called out their greetings in Chippewa. “ Aniin !”

Reid didn’t look closely at Curly Head’s village either. There would be time enough for all those connections. He wanted to arrive at his post and get settled before he turned his attention to trade relations.

The North West post wouldn’t be far now. McTavish had said it was about two miles from the XY post and a mile from the village.

Reid squinted against the glare of the sun. Just downriver, smoke spiraled into the thick, hot air. A handful of clouds marked the large blue sky, and thick forests of oak, elm, and maple lined the riverbanks. The Mississippi at this place was narrow enough he could shout across and be heard. To the right, the Crow Wing River joined the Mississippi with a channel divided by a small island that looked like the wing of a crow and gave the location its name. Reid had learned that this area had been inhabited for centuries by the Chippewa and was home to the chief of the region. It had long been a key location for the North West Company to trade—and why the XY Company had sent their men.

Sweat and moisture from the humidity covered Reid’s body, making him want to jump into the river. When they arrived at the post, they would unload the canoes, sort the inventory, and then store it. Reid and Charlotte would move their things into the bourgeois’s private quarters and see that all the voyageurs and their families were also properly housed.

Then, maybe, he’d take a dip in the river before turning in for the night.

It didn’t take long to finally arrive at Reid’s new post—and when they did, he stared in disbelief.

A quiet hush came over the brigade as the paddles stilled in the water.

The site chosen for the post was at the top of a valley, with visibility for passing Indians, yet protection from enemies. It was an ideal location, for which Reid was grateful—but what stood before him was not what he had expected.

Charred wood remained where the post had once stood. What was left of the long row house and stockade reached to the heavens like jagged black scars. A campfire burned where the fire ring remained in the corner of the previous stockade, and a woman stood near it, stirring a large caldron. Behind her, a string of clothing hung from one of the burned posts to another. She stood alone in the fort. When she caught sight of the brigade, she began to wail, as if in mourning.

Anger burned deep in Reid’s gut. “The XY men,” he said under his breath.

Furious shouts rose from the voyageurs, and Reid did not stop them this time.

“Let’s turn around and burn their post!” one of the men yelled, lifting his multi-colored paddle high in the air.

Others shouted their agreement, but Reid put his hands up to silence them. He must set the tone of their post now, or he’d never gain control.

“We’ll go ashore and inspect the post,” he called out to his men, the need to seek revenge burning deep in his gut. He forced himself to say what must be said, though he fought the truth of it. “Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord. We will not retaliate.” At least, not yet.

Several men shouted their disapproval, but they obeyed his command. The gouvernails directed the brigade to shore, and the milieux paddled. Before the canoes hit land, several men jumped out, and they began to unload the cargo, like usual.

Reid stepped out of his canoe, his back sore from sitting for so long, and his head pounding—now for other reasons. His shoes filled with water as he waded through the river to get to the bank.

He would not have a bed to sleep in tonight, after all. He and Charlotte would have to continue sleeping in the tent until the post could be rebuilt.

Frustration tightened his muscles, and he started up the bank to the site of the post. Charlotte was not far behind. It was a bit of a climb to get on land, and when they did, they were met with an even greater loss than he’d first suspected from the river.

What remained of the post would need to be torn down and rebuilt from scratch. There was nothing worth saving. If anything had withstood the fire, it had been stolen, for nothing remained inside the soot-covered row house.

The woman at the fire continued to wail, and none of the men could silence her. She knelt on the grass and put her face to the ground.

Her husband was one of the milieux from Reid’s boat. When he came to her, he spoke to her gently, and she finally sat up to speak to him.

Reid was thankful she had quieted, as the sound had grated on his headache.

Noemie also joined the lady. She took her hand and spoke softly in Chippewa, her face growing more and more alarmed with each passing moment.

“What happened?” Charlotte asked, her hands on her hips. “Where are all the women and children the men have been waiting to see?”

Reid kicked at a felled pike from the stockade. “If I had to guess, I’d say the XY men did this, but I dinna ken where the women and children are.”

“Why?” She turned to him, confusion on her brow. “Why would they do this?”

“Because they are despicable, as I’ve told you.” He rubbed his temples and took a steadying breath, trying not to let his anger transfer to her. “They did this in defiance of us. Now, instead of going right to work with the Indians, it will take us weeks to rebuild—not to mention what it will cost. I planned to take over an operational fur post, with bedding, cooking utensils, furniture—the rest. Now, I will have to take from my cargo, which was intended for trade, and that will eat into my profits.”

Noemie left the woman and came to Reid and Charlotte. “Abequa is in deep mourning,” She said to Reid. “XY men burned the post down three weeks ago. Her only child was killed in the fire.” Her eyes were filled with sadness. “The voyageurs from the XY post lured the other women away, promising them food, shelter, and gifts.”

“Surely they will return now that their husbands are here,” Charlotte said.

“Some might, but that is not the way of the People,” Noemie said patiently. “They are not bound to these men and can leave them at any time, if a better opportunity arises. If the women like living with the XY men better, they will stay there.”

“What about the children?” Charlotte frowned. “Don’t these men have rights to their offspring?”

“Children are the property of the mither,” Reid explained. “Faithers have no rights to their children in this culture.”

As the news of what happened spread among the voyageurs, great unrest grew. Violence sprang to the eyes of the men, and several pulled weapons from their personal bags with the intent to bring harm on the XY post.

“Do something,” Charlotte said urgently to Reid, “before they kill someone.”

He clenched his jaw, his head aching worse than ever. “I will handle the situation.”

Three men started for their canoe, but Reid called out for them to halt. The din of angry voices had grown so loud he lifted his pistol and shot it into the air.

All forty-three men quieted.

Reid returned the smoking gun into its holster and met the eyes of his men. “I ken you are angry—I am too. But they want us to fight. They want us to focus our energy on retaliation and not on our work here.” His head hurt to the point he thought he might vomit, but he breathed through his nose and kept his voice steady. “I ken you’ve lost your families, and I’m sorry. I canna imagine your anger or pain. But I must remind you that you are first and foremost engages to the North West Company, and your job must come before all else. You knew that taking an Indian wife in à la facon du pays meant that she could leave for any reason, at any time. Remember that you can win her back, if you so desire—but on your own time.”

He walked across the uneven ground to look at another group of voyageurs to his right. “Your time is required here for now. We must rebuild this post in all haste. We will build it better and stronger than before, and we will defend it at all costs.”

A shout of agreement arose from the men.

“If you are angry, turn your anger into hard work and show the XY men that you are not easily defeated. We will grow from this, and we will be better because of it. We will capture the trade and send them home penniless.”

Another shout lifted to the sky.

“After the cargo is secure, we will immediately tear down what remains of this post. Tomorrow, half of you will begin to cut and prepare the trees necessary to rebuild, and the other half will prepare the footing for the new post. To save time, we will rebuild on the original foundation.” If they had good weather and the men did their work efficiently, they might have a place to inhabit in a month.

Nods of approval moved around the group as the men spoke amongst themselves.

“Let’s go to work.” Reid was the first to lift a charred picket from where the stockade had stood, and he walked it away from the fort and hurled it down the side of the slope and into the valley below.

The others soon followed.

“I’m going to get some willow bark tea heated for your headache,” Charlotte said when he rejoined her.

“How do you ken I have a headache?” He squinted as he addressed her.

She lifted an eyebrow but didn’t respond. Instead, she went to the cargo and found the medicine chest and set to work.

It would be a long day.

Sitting on her cot at the end of the day, Charlotte stretched her aching muscles and cringed when a spot in her neck pinched. Earlier, she had watched Reid join his men in removing charred timber, even though he was in considerable pain. She couldn’t stand around and just watch, so she had also joined the work. The sooner they had the spot cleared, the sooner they could build their winter quarters.

Soot covered her hands, face, and clothes. The humidity and heat had made her sweat like she’d never sweat before. She didn’t have a mirror readily available, but if she did, she’d probably laugh or weep at what she must look like.

Just beyond the tent, she had lit a fire and prepared a simple meal for her and Reid. After they’d eaten, he’d been called away to settle a dispute between two voyageurs. One claimed the other had drunk his evening dram of rum. Charlotte had silently watched Reid walk away, his shoulders stooping under the weight of his responsibilities and the headache that hadn’t let up all day.

Now she waited in the tent, wishing she could take a dip in the river. She could hardly stand how filthy she felt, but she didn’t dare leave the tent until Reid returned. He’d be worried about her disappearance.

“Charlie?” Reid’s footsteps returned to their tent site.

“In here.” She stood and opened the flap of their tent.

Beyond the circle of light from their campfire, the world was dark. There was no moon to light their path, and the haze of humidity in the air made the stars dim and faded.

Reid’s eyelids drooped, and his face tensed with pain. He was also covered in soot, and he no longer wore his coat but had long ago abandoned it to roll up his shirtsleeves. “Would you like to join me at the river?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” She smiled and picked up the pile of clean clothes and soap she’d set out for just that reason and then exited the tent.

“I’ll just be a moment.” He entered their tent, and she could hear him combing through his things to find his clothes and soap as well.

When he finally left the tent, he had a bag slung over his shoulder. “I saw a place that will make a nice bathing spot a little way downriver.”

Many of the voyageurs had already gone to bed under the canoes, which had been set up behind the post and away from the river. A symphony of crickets serenaded from the lowland near the valley, and an owl hooted in the distance.

They walked down into the valley and across the level ground until they came to the banks of the Mississippi. Water moved by at a steady pace, though the current wouldn’t be too strong to swim. Darkness surrounded them, but their eyes adjusted enough to pick their way through the tall grass. Reid directed her to a spot where the riverbank dipped and they’d have easy access to the water.

It wasn’t the first time they’d taken a nighttime swim. Reid turned his back to her and unbuttoned his shirt while she removed her coat, trousers, and boots. Like usual, she would leave her underclothes and long shirt on for modesty. It wasn’t an ideal way to bathe, but far better than not bathing at all.

After she took off her socks, she grabbed her bar of soap and tiptoed into the river, then dove beneath the surface. The cool water sent a shock through her body, but it was an instant relief from the heat and grime.

She came up, wiping her hair back, and let out a contented sigh.

“Are you in?” Reid asked.

“Yes.” She still had her back to him and kept it that way.

He entered the water and immediately dove under as well. The splash touched the back of her head.

When he came up, he was beside her, and he moaned with contentment. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

She turned to him then, seeing only his head above the water. “I’m sorry about the post. I know it’s not what you expected or hoped for.”

Reid sighed. “No, but ’tis what we have. Thank you for all your help. You did as much work as any man today.”

“I couldn’t sit back and watch everyone else work.”

“You could have, but you didn’t.” He tilted his head back and dipped his hair into the water again, rubbing his temples. “This is making my headache ease.”

She wanted to rub his temples for him, but she didn’t dare get close. Instead, she began to use the soap, first washing her hair and then the other parts of her body that were exposed, all the while trying not to watch Reid do the same.

They worked in silence for many minutes, splashing, dipping, and scrubbing.

When they were finally done, neither one made a move to leave the refreshing water. They tossed their bars of soap onto the riverbank and allowed the water to rush by them.

Charlotte’s feet touched the rocky bottom, and she tried not to think about the fish swimming around her feet. Early on during her trip into the wilderness, she’d eased into the idea of bathing in the clean lakes and rivers that abounded in this place. Reid had assured her that there was nothing in the water that would bother her, and she took him at his word.

“I’m planning to visit Curly Head tomorrow.”

Reid’s statement brought Charlotte’s head up.

“Lachlan has probably been to see him several times,” he said.

“Lachlan?” Charlotte frowned, not sure who Lachlan might be.

“My half brother.”

Her eyes grew wide. “Your what ?”

The current had pushed her closer to him.

“My father was a fur trader with the North West Company, but when he retired, he chose to stay in the interior with his country wife and children.” His voice was low and filled with raw emotion. “The bourgeois of the XY Company is his son from that relationship, Lachlan McCoy.”

“Reid.” She moved closer to put her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

It was the first time she’d touched his bare skin other than his hands. His muscles responded to her touch, bunching beneath her fingers. The feeling sent a shiver up her arm, and she pulled back.

Neither one said anything for a moment, so she finally asked. “Have you met him before?”

“No. And I never wanted to, but I won’t have that choice anymore.”

They bobbed with the ebb and flow of the current. “So it was your brother who burned down your post?”

“More than likely, though I doubt he realizes I’m the bourgeois.”

“What will you do?”

He shrugged. “I’ll do what I was sent to do. Take back the trade.”

“Which is why you’ll be meeting with Curly Head tomorrow.”

“Aye.”

“And his daughter?” she asked quietly.

He simply nodded.

She needed to know what he planned to do, even though it wasn’t any of her business. Boldness made her ask. “Have you made a decision about her?”

Reid lifted his hands out of the water and smoothed back his wet hair. She followed the course of the water dripping off his large biceps and back into the river. Warmth pooled in her stomach, and she had to take a deep breath and look away.

It was getting harder and harder to ignore her attraction to him.

He lowered his arms under the water again. “I dinna have enough information to make a decision yet.” His voice was heavy. “I’m still praying about what to do.”

A fish jumped farther out in the water, splashing down with a little plunk.

The story of Abraham and Sarah came to Charlotte from the book of Genesis. God had made a vow to Abraham that his descendants would outnumber the stars in the sky. But when God was slow to give him and his wife a baby, they took matters into their own hands, and it brought nothing but trouble to them.

“Do you believe God has made a promise to you concerning your work in the fur trade?”

He was quiet for a moment but then nodded. “When I was a child, I asked God to place the desires in my heart that He wanted me to reach for. Becoming a shareholder was one of those desires, so I’ve always believed it is God’s will for me.”

Her heart pounded and her body trembled. She sensed she was speaking a truth that he needed to hear—and not just because she didn’t want him to marry the chief’s daughter. “Then, don’t you believe that He can accomplish that without you taking a country wife?”

Reid frowned, clearly deep in thought. “I suppose He could, though ‘tis hard to see how.”

She went on, a little quicker. “Consider what happened to Abraham when he doubted God’s promise and took his wife’s handmaiden into his tent.” Her cheeks warmed at the implication, but she wouldn’t let it stop her. “He suffered the consequences. If God made a promise to you, don’t make a decision based on your doubt.” She was quiet for a heartbeat, and then she whispered, “Maybe that’s the answer to your prayer.”

Charlotte didn’t move as she waited for him to respond.

Peace settled over his face, which was no longer strained with pain or worry. “Mayhap it is.”

She was still close to him—too close—but she didn’t want to move away, didn’t want to put distance between them.

He reached up and touched one of her curls near her temple in a way that she’d come to love. But this time, his finger grazed her skin, and he paused, looking deep into her eyes.

She didn’t move—didn’t breathe. Everything within her wanted his touch—craved it. She wanted to feel feminine and desirable. Loved.

Reid trailed his finger down her cheek, following its descent with his dark eyes. And when his finger stopped near her mouth, his gaze stopped there too.

Charlotte held her breath as she waited for what might come next. She wanted him to kiss her, and the shock of that truth made her swallow.

His gaze lifted to rest on her eyes, and the desire she saw there made her want to be closer to him.

Picking her feet up off the river floor, she allowed the current to carry her closer to him, until her body was gently pressed against his.

The fabric of her binding and her shirt kept her from touching the bareness of his chest, but it didn’t take much to imagine what it might feel like if they were skin to skin. Her stomach fluttered with anticipation, and warmth enveloped her from head to foot.

Reid’s hand slipped from near her mouth and wrapped around to cup the back of her head. His other hand slid around her waist, holding her close, making her feel small and vulnerable—yet, somehow powerful in his arms.

The current pushed against them, but he was strong and unmovable.

Her hands wrapped around his back and rested on the bare skin.

“Charlotte.” He whispered her name in a raspy voice, his lips close to hers. “I canna kiss you, lass, as much as I long to.” His accent was thicker than it had ever been, but he did not let her go. “It wouldna be right.”

She wanted just one kiss, one chance to see what it would feel like to be cherished by this man she’d come to care for. Throwing every sensible thought from her head, Charlotte pushed up on her tiptoes. “Then I will kiss you,” she whispered, and placed her lips against his.

It was all the invitation he needed.

Pulling her closer and lifting her off her feet, he took her mouth fully against his, deepening the kiss with a passion she felt all the way to her toes.

She allowed her hands to explore the muscles in his back, as she’d always longed to do. His moan surprised her, but it seemed to strengthen his own desire, and he deepened the kiss yet again.

Her lips tingled and she was out of breath, but she didn’t care. She’d never felt anything as exquisite or beautiful as this kiss. Instead of quenching her desire, it fueled the longing deep within her and frightened her with its intensity. This one act of passion communicated more between them than words could ever do.

Her body melded against his and she felt both lost and found, all at the same time.

“Charlotte.” He finally pulled back, his chest rising and falling with breathlessness.

She closed her eyes, immediately ashamed that she’d given in to the temptation to kiss him. What must he think of her?

Releasing him, she fought the current and swam backward to put space between them. “I’m sorry.” She lowered even farther into the water to let the coolness relieve the tingling in her lips. It did not wash away the feeling but intensified it.

“ You’re sorry?” He looked toward the riverbank, running his hand through his hair. “I’m the one that should be sorry. I was tasked to look after you and give you to Stephen unsullied—yet I’m the one who kissed you.”

She lifted her chin out of the river, wiping the water from her lips. “I kissed you—you have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I think we both kissed each other, lass.” Reid put his hands on the back of his head, sadness and dismay filling his eyes. “It canna happen again.”

Mortification overcame her, and she wanted to sink beneath the water and never rise again. She felt chastised, and rightly so. Nothing had changed between them. She was engaged to another man, and Reid was her superior, a fur trader living a world apart from her life in England.

She had to redeem herself in some way, but she didn’t know how. “I won’t let it happen again.” And she wouldn’t.

He turned and faced the opposite riverbank. “I’ll wait until you’re dressed.”

She swam to the embankment and stepped out of the water, her heart heavy and her limbs shaking. She’d had a taste of something she could never have again. The knowledge of what she could not have was worse than not knowing.

Quickly, she took off her wet shirt, pulled on her clean clothes, and moved to a rock where she sat with her back toward the water to brush her hair, thankful for the solid bit of earth beneath her. “I’m finished,” she said over her shoulder.

He moved through the water and came to shore.

She continued to brush her hair until he was dressed and came to stand before her.

His face was filled with several emotions, the least of which was regret. When he offered his hand, she took it, and he pulled her to her feet and surprised her by wrapping her in a tight embrace.

“I care deeply for you, Lady Charlotte,” he whispered against her hair. “Too much to let this come between us. I will continue to protect you and keep you safe for Stephen—and when he comes, I will let you go into his care, thanking God that I had the privilege to know you.”

But that was all this could be. He didn’t need to say it for her to know what was on his heart.

She closed her eyes and leaned against him, grateful that Reid McCoy had come into her life.

Together, they returned to their tent. He went to his cot, and she went to hers.

But sleep did not visit her.

Thoughts about Reid’s trip to Curly Head’s village—or rather, Reid meeting the chief’s daughter—kept her awake long into the night.

Would Reid one day kiss the chief’s daughter as he had kissed her?

She wept silently at the thought.