by Jody Hedlund
A rush of anxiety choked Angelique. How would she stay invisible in one of Miss McDouall’s gowns? She’d stand out like a crimson cardinal against freshly fallen snow and make herself a target for some old trapper looking for a wife.
She started to shake her head but stopped. Ebenezer wouldn’t make her, not with his strict standards concerning modesty. Perhaps he’d consent to Miss McDoull’s daily lessons, but he’d never agree to let her strut about town looking like a loose woman.
Miss McDouall glanced into the front hallway that ran down the middle of the building, separating the commander’s living quarters from those of one of the other officers.
During the past hour, various soldiers had been coming and going from the room across the hallway from theirs, where Colonel McDouall was meeting with the previous commander of the fort, Captain Bullock.
Only Lieutenant Steele remained at his post at the entryway of their sitting room, standing erect and waiting for Miss McDouall’s beckon.
Angelique had prayed the quartermaster wouldn’t have to escort her home. He’d said nothing to her on the climb up the steep path to the fort. She’d almost begun to believe he hadn’t remembered their encounter in the woods earlier in the week, until they’d entered the fort and stopped outside the heavy door of the officers’ quarters.
His tone had been clipped and filled with warning. “If you say anything at all about me to Miss McDouall, I expect it to be favorable.”
She’d hoped he would leave and return to his duties as quartermaster. With all the barrels and crates that had been delivered from the ship, he would certainly have a great deal of work restocking the fort’s supplies and distributing them among the soldiers and Indians.
But apparently he’d made time in his busy schedule to dote on Miss McDouall.
“Mr. Durant,” Miss McDouall called, rising from her chair, her eyes bright and fixed on a new arrival in the hallway.
Angelique followed the young woman’s gaze, and to her surprise she found herself staring at Pierre. He’d changed out of his voyageur attire and wore the garb of any ordinary man on the island. Except Pierre wasn’t ordinary at all. He was still as dashing in his corduroy trousers and calico shirt as he’d been in his leather breeches and capote.
At Miss McDouall’s call, Pierre paused, and instead of continuing toward the colonel’s office, he veered toward the sitting room.
“I’m delighted to see you here, Mr. Durant.” Miss McDouall glided gracefully away from the table.
Pierre’s attention was focused on the beautiful woman, and he flashed her one of his breathtaking grins. “Lavinia McDouall.”
He started into the room, but Lieutenant Steele blocked the doorway with the butt of his rifle.
At the sight of the quartermaster and rifle, Pierre stopped short, and a shadow crossed his face.
Angelique sat frozen in her chair. Did he realize the quartermaster was the one who had attacked her earlier in the week?
“You may let him pass, Lieutenant Steele.” Miss McDouall bestowed a smile on the soldier. “I know Mr. Durant from our association last summer in Montreal.”
The quartermaster glared at Pierre before lowering his rifle.
Pierre strode past him, his attention centered on Miss McDouall. “I heard you were here. But nobody told me you were so ravishing.”
Her cheeks turned a rosy pink. “I heard you were here too and working for Daddy.”
Angelique hadn’t had the chance yet to ask Pierre whose side he was on in the war, but she’d assumed he sided with the British like most of the Indians and voyageurs. Otherwise he wouldn’t have been welcome on the island.
She was only a little disappointed in his choice, though eased by the thought that he wasn’t joining the fighting and wouldn’t have to pick up arms against Jean.
Pierre reached for Miss McDouall’s hand, brought it to his lips, and pressed a kiss there. Then he bowed gallantly.
Miss McDouall gave a breathy laugh, but at the sight of Lieutenant Steele’s scowl, she blushed again and pulled her hand away from Pierre.
For a long moment, Angelique could only stare between Pierre and Miss McDouall. Then something hot and sharp stabbed her. Did Pierre have feelings of affection toward Miss McDouall?
Angelique sat up straighter and scooted to the edge of her chair. Didn’t he see her at all? Was she completely invisible and unworthy of notice in the presence of one as lovely and charming as Miss McDouall?
“When I arrived yesterday to such stark surroundings,” Miss McDouall said, “I was worried I might be bored this summer. But now that you’re here, I know I shall have a gay time.”
“You’re right,” Pierre replied with a laugh. “You certainly won’t be bored with me here.”
Angelique had the urge to stand up and slap the silly grin off Pierre’s face. He was acting like a besotted fool.
Miss McDouall peeked at Lieutenant Steele from underneath her lashes. “I was very happy to meet the acquaintance of the fort’s quartermaster, Lieutenant Steele. He has also assured me that he will do everything he can to make certain my time on the island is entertaining.”
The two men again exchanged wary glances.
A smile played at Miss McDouall’s lips.
She was obviously enjoying the attention and flattery of both the men. When Pierre turned his adoration back upon her, she gave him another bright smile.
Was that what beauty brought? The flattery of handsome men like Pierre? Angelique stared up at Pierre, willing him to look at her with adoration.
But the truth was, next to the stunning Miss McDouall, he hadn’t noticed her at all. And why would he? Not when she looked the way she did.
She glanced at her roughened hands and then again at Miss McDouall’s flawless skin. What would it take to get Pierre to admire her?
She shook her head and pushed to her feet, scolding herself. Why should she care? Let Pierre make a fool of himself with other women. It didn’t mean anything to her.
“I don’t think you should count on Pierre providing you any entertainment,” Angelique said, straightening and facing Pierre. “He’s as boring as an old goat.”
At the sight of her, surprise widened Pierre’s eyes, quickly followed by a spark of mirth. “An old goat?”
Miss McDouall gave a start. “Why, Miss MacKenzie!”
“Besides, he’s leaving in a few weeks.” An unseen force prodded Angelique, driving her rudeness, along with the need to claim Pierre’s attention away from Miss McDouall. “If he does all the work he says he’s going to, then I have the feeling he’ll be too busy for social calls anyway. Am I right, Mr. Durant?”
Pierre nodded. “I can always make time to socialize, Miss MacKenzie. You should know that all work and no play has never been my motto.”
“Do the two of you know each other?” Miss McDouall’s delicately shaped eyebrows rose.
“We’re childhood friends,” Pierre explained. “We were inseparable playmates when we were younger.”
“I see,” Miss McDouall said. “Then you should be pleased to know that this summer among the charities I’ll be heading, I have chosen to bestow my kind attention and help upon Angelique.”
The room with its fancy furniture, fine linens, and bookcase of thick books seemed to close in on Angelique. Embarrassed, she felt heat rising beneath her high neckline.
“I didn’t know Angelique needed help with anything,” Pierre said.
“Why, Mr. Durant, look at her. She needs improvement with just about everything, if I’m to turn her into a lady by the end of the summer.”
Angelique wanted to run from the building, out of the fort, and down to the lake, where the cool breezes could soothe the heat on her skin. She didn’t dare look into Pierre’s eyes and chance seeing pity in them again. She wouldn’t be able to bear it.
Pierre was silent for a moment. The loud voices in the hallway, Lieutenant Steele calling a greeting to a newcomer, echoed around them. When Angelique finally d
ared to peek at Pierre, she was surprised that instead of pity, he offered her a grin.
“I don’t think Angelique needs improvement,” he said, “except for maybe a few more fishing tips from the master himself.”
Gratefulness welled inside Angelique, and she returned his smile.
Miss McDouall slipped her arm into the crook of Pierre’s. She fluttered her eyelashes at him. “’Twould appear I’ve come to the island at just the right time. Not only to improve Miss MacKenzie, but to give you a few lessons as well.”
She started to lead him toward the door. He didn’t resist. Instead he placed his hand over hers and tucked it more securely in his grasp. “Then it’s a very good thing I’m a willing student.”
He flashed Miss McDouall the kind of smile that made Angelique’s chest twist with painful longing. What could she possibly do to make him smile at her like that? The kind of smile meant for a beautiful woman, instead of one for an old friend and playmate.
“Good day, Miss MacKenzie.” Miss McDouall tossed the words over her shoulder. “I shall expect your visit tomorrow at half past three promptly.”
She nodded. What harm would come of letting the commander’s daughter teach her a thing or two about how to act more ladylike?
But just as quickly as the thought came, she shoved it aside.
She didn’t need Pierre’s special smiles. She didn’t need to be beautiful, like her mother. She was perfectly happy with the way she was.
Chapter
9
Pierre slipped the folded paper into Red Fox’s outstretched hand. He glanced around the thickly wooded bluff. The only other sign of life was the breeze blowing through the tall spruce branches overhead and the soft swooshing of the long needles.
“Leave the note with Baxter on Bois Blanc Island,” Pierre said quietly. “He’ll make sure it gets into the right hands.”
He’d gleaned a substantial amount of information regarding the British plans from both the colonel and Lavinia in the short time he’d been back. And now he needed to get that information to the Americans. Although he wanted to take the missive himself, he knew he’d be safer giving it to Red Fox. No one would suspect the Indian of carrying messages to the Americans.
But if anyone caught him leaving the island now that he was back, he’d raise suspicion, maybe even enough that they’d throw him in prison.
As it was, the colonel and Lavinia didn’t know anything. In fact, the colonel still believed he was spying on the Americans for him. He’d resumed their friendship right where he’d left off last summer when he mingled with them in Montreal, though he couldn’t quite muster the same enthusiasm this time.
He wasn’t exactly sure why. Last summer he’d had no problem flirting with Lavinia. He’d considered it one of his more pleasant spying duties.
Maybe he was more uncomfortable now because Angelique had been there watching. What must she think of him? He wished he could confess to her that he had no interest in befriending Lavinia other than what he could gain for the cause.
He didn’t want Angelique to think he was a womanizer, because he wasn’t. Not anymore.
Red Fox tucked the note into the leather pouch at his side and then gave him a curt nod. The bear grease he’d slathered on his arms, chest, and face made him gleam, even in the shade.
“And if any of the North West agents try anything, you have my full permission to riddle them with arrows.”
“You do not need to worry. I have eyes like those of the hawk. Your furs and men will be safe with me.”
Pierre took a deep breath, trying to steady the wild thumping of his heart. Was he making a mistake to stay behind on the island? Even though he trusted Red Fox to help bring the furs safely to Montreal, anything could go wrong.
“I’ll meet you in Montreal in two moons,” Pierre said, hoping he’d have no trouble finding another group heading east in three weeks so that he wouldn’t have to travel alone.
“My brother should stay here until I return at end of summer with supplies.”
Pierre shook his head. He was only staying three weeks, maybe four, just long enough to plant the fields. Then he’d hire someone to help Maman the rest of the summer, someone who could harvest the crops and help her prepare for winter.
“You must do the right thing.” Red Fox’s sober black eyes made him look older and wiser than his eighteen years.
“But that’s the trouble. I don’t know what the right thing is anymore.” Pierre didn’t know what to do when it came to Maman or with his spying. He supposed he’d never really cared before, had just gone about his business without giving anything much thought.
Was God working on him again?
Pierre peered heavenward through the layers of branches. Why did it have to be so painful every time God began working on turning him into a better man?
“You stay with your mother,” Red Fox said. “She needs her son more than her son needs fur.”
“I’ll stay until I can hire the help.”
Red Fox thumped his chest. He was bare except for his breechcloth, leggings, and deer-hide moccasins. “You are my brother.” He then pointed a finger to Pierre’s chest. “You are my brother in here.”
Ever since he’d jumped out of his canoe last spring to rescue Red Fox from drowning in the swollen rapids, the man had been his shadow. No one else had dared to battle the raging river. Everyone else—even Red Fox’s own tribe—had given Red Fox up for dead. They’d all known that any rescue attempt would end in two deaths instead of one.
But Pierre hadn’t been able to stand by and watch Red Fox drown. He’d never been the kind of man to think before acting. Besides, he’d counted on all his years of swimming in the lake to hold him in good stead. And of course he’d always relied on Maman’s prayers.
Thankfully he’d been able to pull Red Fox out of the flooded river. Now the Indian had adopted him as his brother and was willing to do anything for him and go anywhere. Pierre had a feeling the brave wouldn’t be satisfied until he had the chance to save Pierre’s life in return. Pierre hoped such an occasion would never arise.
“My brother should stay,” Red Fox said. “Work hard. Keep out of trouble.”
“Now wait a minute.” Pierre grinned. “Keep out of trouble? That sounds boring.”
“You must keep the Great Spirit happy. Then he will bring me back with many eagle feathers.”
“You are a brave man.” Pierre’s mirth rapidly evaporated at the thought of his brigade leaving without him. “I’ll pray that my God keeps you safe.”
With the war and the lack of supplies coming into Michilimackinac Island, most of the voyageurs and traders had to travel farther east to sell their pelts and restock before returning to the wilderness for another season of trading.
He could only pray that the North West Company agents would be too busy to pay attention to his small brigade. If not for Red Fox’s willingness to ride the final distance with his men and see them to safety, Pierre wasn’t sure he would have been able to keep his rash promise to Angelique to stay for several weeks to help Maman.
He didn’t know what had made him blurt out that he would stay, but it had come out before he’d been able to stop it. And now here he was stuck on the island, sending Red Fox away with his smuggled letter to the Americans along with his men and furs.
All he could do was watch helplessly as Red Fox disappeared into the forest as silently as he’d come to their secret meeting spot. Fighting a heavy dejection, Pierre wandered among the woods, until the distant chopping of axes drew him toward the high bluff at the center of the island.
He knew he needed to return to the plowing. The labor to loosen the hard soil had been backbreaking, even with his well-conditioned muscles. He needed to accomplish an overwhelming amount of work if he hoped to leave in three weeks.
But he couldn’t resist the draw to take a look at the new fort being built on the highest point of the island. Captain Bullock, the previous commander of the fort, had star
ted the project several weeks ago. But now that Colonel McDouall had arrived, they were apparently pouring their efforts into completing the job.
With an attack from the Americans imminent, Pierre was sure the colonel didn’t want the Americans to retake the island with the same tactics the British had used only two years earlier. The British soldiers loved to brag about how they’d arrived on the north side of the island in the early hours of morning under cover of darkness. They’d hauled their two six-pound cannons through the tangled brush and up the steep hills, until they finally reached the top of the island, the hill that towered a half mile above Fort Michilimackinac.
The fort had originally been built to protect the island from a southern attack. But the British had discovered the weakness of the northern side of the fort and had taken advantage of it. With the two cannons pointed down at the fort and with a force of six hundred men, including several hundred Indian warriors, the Americans had been forced to raise the white flag. Everyone had known that any resistance would have incited an Indian massacre.
Fortunately the British had allowed the American troops to retreat unharmed to Detroit. And they’d also given the American citizens who resided on the island one month to either leave or swear allegiance to the British by signing the Oath.
And Jean had left.
Pierre shook his head again, as he did every time he thought about Jean deserting their maman. What had his brother been thinking? Why hadn’t he hired someone to do the work? He certainly hadn’t expected Maman and Angelique to try to shoulder everything, had he?
“Stay with your mother. She needs her son more than her son needs fur.”
Red Fox’s caution echoed in Pierre’s mind. He wanted to ignore the warning the words sent off, and the guilt. What if he couldn’t find hired help either? He doubted he’d stay. How could he?
How then could he judge Jean when he was contemplating leaving Maman too?