“Don’t worry about the children. I will protect them,” he read aloud.
What does she mean, “protect them”? On the trail? In the woods? How can she?
The thought that had driven him up the stairs turned his stomach. She meant Blair. She would protect them from Blair. She went back to Blair!
He felt sick. He couldn’t begin to understand why Meggy left him, why she would put herself and the children in that position. Is she one of those women who enjoy pain? Who seek out men who abuse them?
He kicked the bedpost. No, damn it, she is not! And she protects those children.
Words from the previous night resounded in his head. “I can’t let them arrest you?”
Blair had threatened him, sure enough. The rotter’s words echoed too. Writ . . . makes you a thief . . . magistrate . . . jail . . . I know your people. He thought he could threaten my family!
Rand didn’t often consider the powerful circle his sister married into, but he knew it was there, loyal, and certain to engulf him in their protection if he would but ask. Rand knew that; Meggy didn’t.
Did the little fool put herself in that animal’s hands to protect me? I thought— He dropped to Lena’s bed, his thoughts spinning. Never mind, he thought. Let her go. She made her choice. No woman is worth it.
He lowered his hand, still holding the vellum. He couldn’t escape the memory of Lena’s terror when Blair tried to take them, nor could he forget Drew running to protect their mother.
The children! How can she protect them from him? And what kind of man am I if I leave her to try?
He ran back down and pulled on his jacket on the way out the door. He had a long walk ahead of him. He stuffed his hat down on his head.
I don’t need anyone, least of all a fickle woman, but I’ll be damned if I let that bastard get his hands on the children.
Chapter 18
Melting snow deepened the water in the swamp to the east and washed out well-known paths with marshland on both sides. He had to tread carefully between the trees. Twice his boots sunk into muck. It took him the better part of the day to get to Gibb’s Mill but only a few minutes to find Algernon tied in front of the general merchandise store.
“I don’t know about the woman, but you’ll find the army down by the boat landing. They’re moving on,” Grady told him.
He sprinted down the street and skidded around a corner to find a dozen or so red-coated soldiers milling around the landing, none of them Sergeant Blair. He saw no sign of Meggy or the children.
“Where’s Blair?” he demanded, striding toward them. Some turned away, some stared blankly, a few sneered, but none answered.
A corporal appeared to be the highest rank among the remaining soldiers. Not Martin, thank God, but probably as bad. Rand pushed himself forward until his nose was inches from the corporal’s. “Where’s Blair?” he shouted.
The corporal stiffened. “I don’t have to tell you about troop movements,” he said. He preened when his comment was met with laughter from his fellows. He shot them a smug grin, enjoying his moment of power. He looked back at Rand, the cheeky grin still in place. “But I will. Blair left on the first boat. Talked the colonel into taking his woman and kids too. That’s why the rest of us are still cooling our heels here.”
“Where?” Rand demanded. “Upriver or down?”
“Well, now that would be confidential information, wouldn’t it?” The corporal replied with a cocky smirk.
Rand’s hands fisted at his side, and he felt his temperature rise. The corporal obviously wanted a fight, and Rand needed one. Before he could do something foolish, however, a private took his elbow and suggested that might not be in his best interest, there being eleven of them and one of him. He shook the man’s arm off and began to turn back to his nemesis when something caught his eye.
Lying on a bundle of rags next to the building, a cat mewed softly. Private Pratt stooped on his heels next to it, gently stroking its head. Rand sank to his knees next to them. Cat bled from the nose, and at least one leg was broken.
“What happened?” Rand choked.
“Lena had it wrapped in a towel. When they started up the gangplank, she must have grabbed on too tight, ‘cause the cat squirmed and let out a squeal. Blair saw and grabbed it.”
“But this!”
Pratt shook his head. “Had no call fer this, sir. Cat never hurt no one. Blair just pulled it by the scruff and threw it into the stone wall. When it fell, he kicked it across the landing. Pointed at the little ‘un and shouted, ‘I hate cats.’”
Rand’s heart broke for Lena and for Cat. He felt for broken bones and found none but the leg. The same leg he’d fixed before.
Cat watched Rand sadly but didn’t move her head. When he ran his finger gently along her jaw, she gave him a weak lick of her tongue.
“Boat!”
Rand saw the upriver boat over his shoulder.
“Leave the damned thing, Pratt. Time to go,” the corporal shouted.
“Sorry, sir,” Pratt said. “I have to go. I did the best I could.”
“And I thank you,” Rand said. “Protect the children if you can.” Pratt flicked a quick glance at the boat, looked directly at Rand, and nodded. “Always do,” he whispered. He started to rise.
For a brief moment, Rand considered pushing his way onto the boat, but he couldn’t leave Cat. Lena would never forgive him.
“Wait!”
Pratt hesitated, one eye on the arriving boat.
Rand reached in a pocket and pulled out a piece of foolscap and the stub of a pencil and scribbled down a name and location. “If they ship you back to England and you think those children are in danger and can’t find me, go here. Tell them that I sent you and promised help. They’ll know what to do.”
Pratt’s eyes grew wide when he deciphered what was written.
“Pratt, you asshole—on the boat now!” the corporal yelled.
Pratt ran to obey.
“Private,” Rand shouted after him, “if you see Sergeant Blair before I do, tell him he may hate cats, but I hate bullies more.” Private Pratt clambered up the gangplank, turned at the rail, and nodded in acknowledgement. Rand gestured pointedly to the wounded animal and shouted after him, “And I will find him.”
Meggy leaned against the deck rail and held Lena, muffling the little one’s sobs against her breast so Fergus wouldn’t hear. She battled despair born of the knowledge that she belonged to him body and soul, as did her children. She knew the best she could do was guard the children closely and put her body between them and their father’s wrath.
He had proven he could hunt them down. If she had listened to Rand, Blair would bring legal problems down on his head at best. Rand’s anger the day before frightened her. She believed he would kill Fergus if he had to, and then he would hang for it. The thought made her blood run cold. Even if she fled to Grand-mère, Fergus would find them. Rand’s words had rung true. Her husband would track her to Grand-mère’s village, and the consequences would be worse. She had no escape.
“I want to go back,” Lena said into Meggy’s shoulder, her voice thick with tears.
“I know, love. We can’t.”
“But I want Cat,” Lena wailed. Meggy hushed her quickly, peering around to see if Fergus heard. She caught sight of Drew, who slumped across from her, his knees drawn up to his chest, his face a mask of anger, his eyes overflowing with accusation and disappointment.
“We have no choice, Drew,” she whispered. “We have no right to cause Rand to be jailed . . . or worse.” Her son held her eyes a moment longer before he turned his gaze away and dropped his head to his knees. He wouldn’t look at her.
“I wish at least Private Pratt was here,” came the soft voice from her lap.
“I do too, love. I do too.
”
They slept on the deck with the lowest-ranking soldiers all the way to Bytown where the Rideau canal met the Ottawa River. She was relieved by the fact that Fergus couldn’t force his attentions on her there. He watched her, though. “Jump ship, and it’ll be all the worse for you. That girl will slow you down, and I’ll have the law on you again.”
When Fergus couldn’t watch her, Corporal Martin did. She knew Martin for a sneak and a bully, and Rand had humiliated him at the cottage. She kept the children close and didn’t let him near. Worse, he leered at her openly, licking his lips when Fergus wasn’t watching, making her skin crawl and her stomach rebel.
When the boat turned sharply left and the river widened, the boat bobbed in the current where the Rideau River rushed toward Hogs Back Dam and Falls, created to enable a catch basin for the canals. The boatmen turned the boat unerringly to the canal cut that would take them to Bytown. Drew ran to the railing, excitement over the marvels of the Rideau Canal chasing his anxiety away for a time, but Meggy, worried and haggard with little sleep, remained propped against a cabin wall holding Lena.
The Hogs Back locks kept the boy’s interest. If he won’t face me, at least he no longer sits in sullen anger. They passed through a small lake surrounded by swamp, and wading birds lined the edges; even Lena was drawn to the railing. “Look, Mama!” She pointed at moose, knee deep in water, grazing on swamp weeds in the distance. She stepped up to the railing, and Drew put an arm around his sister and began to talk to her about building canals.
The resilience of children is a miracle, Meggy thought. They can find joy in the worst of circumstances. She allowed herself a respite from anxiety and dozed. Blair’s voice dragged her back to reality.
“Don’t get above yourself, boy. You think a Blair can go to some fancy university?” Blair loomed above Drew at the rail. Lena scurried back to Meggy’s lap.
“No, sir, I hope to apprentice to the engineers.”
Blair’s mocking laugh cut through Meggy. “Think you’re better than the rest of us? I didn’t make sergeant building any damn bridges. Your grand da scrabbled for work on the docks in Glasgow, when he worked at all. Do you think you get better from your ma’s folks? Savages and Frenchies, the lot of them. Don’t you forget it, boy. You’re worth no more than them.”
When his father turned and swaggered away, Drew’s stricken face crushed Meggy. What can I say to reassure him, to give him pride in his heritage, or just to comfort him? Nothing. The boy continued to study the canal, but the joy leached out of his face.
The canal twisted and turned, but the water lay smooth, and the boat traveled easily toward its destination.
“What’s that?” Drew couldn’t keep the excitement from his voice at the sight of a huge stone bridge looming in front of them. It spanned the canal from a tall cliff on one side to the hill on the other.
“Are you dumb?” his father demanded, returning to scowl at the boy. “Everyone knows about Sapper’s Bridge. Damned pile of rock, if you ask me.” Meggy hadn’t seen Blair approach. It will always be like this, never knowing where the next blow—from words or fist—will come from. She vowed again to be vigilant for the children’s sake.
Sudden movement and an air of expectation among the troops alerted Meggy that they were approaching their destination. The boat slid into a wharf and came to a stop, bumping against the side. The movement made her stomach lurch, but she didn’t have time to worry about that.
“Come, Drew. Stay close to me,” she called.
“Good words. Do the same. Move, woman. Stay with the men.” Fergus gave her a shove toward the gangplank. She stumbled down.
From the wharf, the men moved smartly but didn’t form lines of march. Meggy did her best to keep up, running periodically to avoid falling behind. They moved uphill rapidly, and Meggy followed along until they came to the bridge that had fascinated Drew.
“Stay here while I report in,” Blair barked. He yanked Lena from Meggy’s side. “I’ll take her with me, so don’t even think about running. I’ll be back to deal with you.”
Lena glared at Meggy over her father’s shoulder, but she didn’t make a fuss. Meggy’s anxiety drained away. Her husband wouldn’t hurt Lena, at least not unless he wanted to coerce Meggy herself. She stood glued to the spot where he left her, grateful Sapper’s Bridge took Drew’s attention away from his sister, and took stock of her surroundings.
Bytown turned out to be the raw frontier town stories claimed. Even Amherstburg, the Loyalist settlement spreading around Fort Malden was more settled. Detroit, just across from Fort Malden, had become a thriving city, the biggest Meggy had ever seen. Of course, both of them were older. Colonel By of the Royal Engineers had carved his town out of swamps and gullies to construct the canal to link Kingston to Montreal via the Rideau and Ottawa Rivers, bypassing the falls and rapids on the Saint Lawrence above the lake. Five years ago, the area around Bytown held only a few farms nestled among the swamplands.
Colonel By built the canal, which had just come into full operation, for troop transport, but it already flowed with commercial traffic. From where she stood, she could see boats of all kinds enter the eight locks that lifted them from the Ottawa River to the canal proper. Drew’s attention was riveted on the bridge and the traffic beneath it.
Blair had gone in the direction of what the men had called Barrack’s Hill, a cluster of stone buildings on a promontory overlooking the river. Across the canal, a disorderly collection of wooden buildings stretched out below her, constructed, she suspected, for the workers who built the canal. Houses had been scattered along broad streets that were laid out in a grid pattern, as if someone expected a city to arise from the rocks.
Blair returned and shoved Lena at Meggy. The girl clung to her mother and struggled to hold back tears while Blair led them across the bridge and down into the lower town with a grunt, pushing Drew forward when the boy paused to glance down at the locks.
He marched them down dusty streets to a ramshackle wooden building. A weathered sign, hand lettered in crude script, proclaimed it to be “Rafferty’s Rooming House.” The slovenly matron studied his coin and, without a word, led them up three stories to a room at the back of the building. “Two nights,” she said and stomped away without sparing Meggy and the children so much as a glance.
Blair tossed a cloth bag at Meggy. “Bread,” he said. “Should feed ‘em for a day. I have to get back. You’ll stay here. If the landlady has to send me word to fetch you, you’ll regret it.”
Meggy held the bag, numb and silent. The room held a pallet on the floor, some thin blankets, a bucket of fetid water, and nothing else.
“Don’t get comfortable,” Blair growled. “We leave on the next packet to Montreal. Colonel has given you passage.”
“Montreal?”
“Cheer up, Megs, my girl. We’re shipping back to England.” Blair sneered the word. “Luckily for us, I have business there. Lucrative business it is.”
Business? Fergus doesn’t have the intelligence for business.
Her husband ignored her skeptical expression. “The bloody English may be arse-licking mollyboys, but they know a man’s wife is his property, and they have the laws to back it up. No forests to hide in in England and no damned savages to run to. Get used to it.”
Chapter 19
Rand stepped into Bytown with Cat cuddled in a sling across his chest and cold resolve in his heart. Cat improved daily; Rand’s mood did not.
One question had haunted him during the entire trip. Why would a woman who had the courage to run into the deep woods with her children do an about face when her abuser found her?
During the long nights, Rand’s own words had come back to him, forcing him to admit that he had done his best to convince her that running was impossible. He had left her no option but dependence on him or on her husband. She chose Bl
air. He couldn’t shake the thought. She chose Blair.
Christmas came and went while Rand steamed north. Mile after mile, the boat made its way through the winding Rideau River while he shoved the children’s disappointment from his mind and focused on ways he might beat Ferguson Blair to a whimpering pulp. The week it had taken him to tend the injured cat, to ascertain whether it would live or die, to send the Grady boys (gleefully riding Algernon) to tend his stock, and to book passage had cost him precious time while they moved out of reach.
As soon as he disembarked, he had begun a round of the canal-side taverns. His inquiries about a woman with two children bore little fruit. No one had seen them in the taverns.
“Have you seen a soldier with two children in tow?” he asked one publican.
“Yer joking, right? No soldier drags kids along. Leaves ‘em where he makes ‘em, don’t he?”
Soldiers, it appeared, were soldiers, and hundreds of redcoats passed through Bytown. On his fourth try, he described Blair in detail.
“Barrel-chested, ham-fisted sergeant with a temper.”
The man wiping up the table shrugged. “That’s about all of ‘em. Would rather fight than eat.”
“This one is mean as a snake. Treats his own men like dirt.”
The man thought for a moment. “Most of ‘em like to travel in packs. Loyal to their own.”
“This one injures animals for sport.” He ran a hand over Cat’s head, accepting a lick for thanks.
The waiter stared at Cat. “He do that?”
Rand nodded. “Have you seen a sergeant capable of that, one who pushes folks around—even his own men move aside when he walks in?”
The Renegade Wife Page 11