by Jody Hedlund
Pierre let his paddle drag in the water, turning his canoe toward his usual hiding spot in the secluded area of the coast, where none of the British soldiers on patrol would be able to discover his treachery.
If anyone stopped him, he could always explain that he’d gone out to spy on the Americans. Colonel McDouall still believed he was working for the British. But since the dance, his friendliness had cooled considerably. Pierre hoped it had more to do with Lavinia than the colonel suspecting anything about him.
Of course Lavina had been upset that he’d danced with Angelique the whole time, that he hadn’t let any of the other men have a chance with her. And she’d probably complained to her father about him. He suspected the real reason she was offended was because he hadn’t made her the center of his attention at the dance. It hadn’t mattered that she’d had the undivided attention of Lieutenant Steele and nearly every other man on the island; she wanted his too.
At least she’d allowed Angelique and Maman to stay with her in the officers’ quarters. She might be a bit arrogant like many of her class, but overall she had a kind heart. She wouldn’t turn away anyone in need. He could rest easy on his missions knowing Angelique and Maman were both tucked away in the safest place on the island.
Pierre pulled the paddle up, rested it on the edge, and let the waves carry him toward the shore. The lake was much calmer this morning than it had been the other times he’d gone out. He was grateful for the easy trip back to the island.
He wiped his hand across his eyes, fighting a heavy weariness. The mist had soaked into his clothes, making him shiver in the cool morning air. What he really needed was to go back to the farm, do the chores, and then sleep for a couple of hours. But there was no time for any of that. The Americans would be arriving on the north end of the island as soon as the fog burned away. Hopefully they’d be able to take the British by surprise.
He had to make sure the landing went according to plan.
With a breath that drew from his last reserves, he plunged the paddle back into the lake and began the steady rhythm he’d practiced over the years, first one side of the canoe and then the other.
The bow scraped against something.
He rammed the paddle deeper, pushing backward. Had he hit a boulder, and if so, how? He knew the island so well that he could navigate the shoreline blind and still not have trouble.
He strained to see through the mist that blocked even the hand he raised in front of his face. For an instant the fog thinned and he caught a glimpse of the side of another birchbark canoe . . . and a tumble of red curls.
“Angelique?” he called.
“Pierre!” came her surprised reply.
He steered in the direction of her voice, bringing his canoe alongside hers. He fumbled blindly, found the edge and latched on, holding the vessels together.
“What are you doing out here?” Her question came at the same time as his.
“You shouldn’t be out here,” he answered, dodging the truth. “You should be back in the fort where it’s safe.” The thought of her being outside the walls of the fort, with the imminent threat of a battle with the Americans, turned his blood cold.
“The colonel wanted me to fish this morning. He’s worried they’ll have another shortage of food.”
“I don’t care if every soldier in the fort is starving, you shouldn’t be out here.” How dare the colonel let a young woman venture out alone? He knew the colonel was growing more concerned every day that the American fleet was sitting in the harbor and blocking supply ships from reaching the island. Not only was the colonel needing to feed the soldiers but he was providing for the Indian allies as well. With so many mouths to feed, the supplies never lasted long enough.
Even so, the colonel shouldn’t have allowed Angelique to leave the fort. “Why didn’t he send a couple of his men to fish instead?”
She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. They both knew why Colonel McDouall had sent her. She could make a catch. And the British didn’t know the first thing about fishing in the lake. Even if they had attempted it, they didn’t know the island or how to navigate through the dense fog.
“You shouldn’t have come.” He had the urge to march up to the fort and yell at the colonel for sending a girl out, no matter how well she could fish. “I’m taking you back to the fort right now.”
“I’m fine, Pierre.” She sounded almost amused at his concern. “Besides, I needed a break from Lavinia’s perfume.”
He couldn’t seem to muster any amusement at her attempt at a joke. The situation was too grave. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if she got caught outside the fort during the battle. “Lavinia’s perfume is much better than the stench of blood.”
“Blood?” Alarm tinged her voice. “Whose blood? Are you hurt?”
“I’m just cold and tired.” He bit back the revelation of the upcoming attack and his part in it. She didn’t need to know about his secretive dealings. If something happened to him and he was implicated for spying, he didn’t want anyone to turn around and try to hurt her.
“How’s Maman?” he asked, hoping to divert her attention to another subject.
“She’s as well as always.”
“She’s not too mad at me for forcing her to go to the fort?”
“No one can stay mad at you for long.”
He leaned across the distance between them. It seemed like ages ago that he’d held her and kissed her in the garden at the dance and proposed to her again. Had she really said yes or had he only dreamt it?
“Then you’re not mad at me any more for beating up Ebenezer?”
“I was never mad at you.”
“Disappointed in me?” He was disappointed in himself. He’d thought he was changing, becoming a better man, pleasing God with how he lived. But he’d let his temper get the best of him. Even if Ebenezer had insulted Angelique in the most debasing way, he shouldn’t have hit him.
Angelique’s fingers found his on the edge of the canoe. She squeezed his hand. “You’re a good man, Pierre. You want to do what’s right. But sometimes we struggle to do the good we know we ought to.”
He nodded. “I seem to have a war raging inside me. I tell myself I’m going to do the right thing, but then I end up doing the opposite.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself. At least you’re learning from your mistakes, and you have your whole life to practice doing what’s right.”
The mist swirling between them parted for a moment so that he could clearly see her pretty face. He reached out and caressed her cheek. “I’ve missed you this week.”
She leaned into his hand. “I’ve missed you too.”
“Have you told Maman about us?”
“No,” she said slowly. “We’re never alone. Lavinia’s always there, and she invited some of the other island women to take refuge in the building as well.”
He hadn’t told Maman yet either. He’d been so panicked to secure her safety in the fort that he hadn’t taken the time to inform her of his plans to give up fur trading and marry Angelique. Maman would likely be happy he was doing what his father had wanted—staying home and helping with the farm. But he wasn’t so sure she’d be happy he’d won Angelique’s affection away from Jean.
He’d reasoned that Angelique had the right to choose between them, that if Jean had loved her enough, she wouldn’t have fallen so easily into Pierre’s arms.
“We’ll tell Maman soon,” he said, forcing more confidence than he felt. “Once we get through all the danger.”
And what about Jean? How would they tell him? The unasked question hung between them.
Although he hadn’t seen Jean in any of his visits to the American fleet, he’d heard there were several former island residents who were part of the United States Army. If the American attack succeeded, there was the very real possibility they would get to see Jean soon, maybe even by the day’s end.
“Speaking of danger, we need to get you back to the fort as
soon as possible.” He gave her canoe a gentle push to get her started.
She didn’t protest. She knew as well as he did that the sun would soon burn the fog away. Even now the air was lightening and growing warmer. It would only be a matter of thirty minutes or so before it would disappear altogether, replaced by bright summer sunshine.
They paddled swiftly the short span to the shore, hid their canoes among the tangle of overgrown reeds and silverweed grass, and then started through the woods. Pierre carried the two dozen fish she’d caught. With each long stride he took, his sense of urgency grew until he was practically jogging. Angelique’s long skirt and bare feet slowed her down, and she began to fall behind.
A sudden boom like that of cannon fire stopped him. He froze, stifling his heavy breathing, straining to listen. Another boom soon followed. Were the British shooting off their cannons?
Even as he prayed that was the case, frustration burst through him. The cannon fire was too far away and was coming from the north side of the island. It couldn’t be the British. It had to be the American fleet, already having dropped anchor where he’d instructed them to.
But why in the world were they firing? Especially when they’d planned on a surprise landing.
Angelique’s labored breathing filled the air behind him. “What is it?” she asked. “Are the Americans attacking?”
He could only shake his head at the idiocy of Colonel Croghan. If Angelique could figure out what the bombing meant, then the British troops and their Indian allies would be entrenched in fighting position in no time. So much for taking advantage of the mist and launching a surprise attack.
His body tensed with the need to sprint to the northern shore and discover what had happened to their carefully laid plans. He glanced through the dense woods that lay between them and the fort. Angelique would be safe for the last two hundred yards on her own, wouldn’t she?
She looked up at him, still attempting to catch her breath, her eyes as trusting as always. Angelique was a smart girl. If she hurried, she’d be fine. He knew that.
Even so, he hesitated. “Promise me you’ll go straight to the fort and lock yourself away with Lavinia in the officers’ quarters until this is all over?”
“Where are you going?”
“I need to find out what’s happening.”
“Can’t you come back to the fort with me?”
He shook his head, draping the strings of her fish over her shoulders. “I have to do my duty, Angelique.”
“Duty to whom?”
There wasn’t a hint of condemnation in her tone, only curiosity. But the question stirred guilt within him anyway. “It’s better for you not to know.” He spun away before she could see the truth in his eyes. He didn’t like all the guilt that had been eating at him lately, first in how he’d handled his anger toward Ebenezer, and now for his duplicity in the war. “Hurry back to the fort,” he said over his shoulder as he started running.
For a long moment he could sense that she hadn’t budged, that she stood watching him dodge the low-hanging branches and leap over windfall. He was tempted to turn around, to rush back to her. He could think of nothing he wanted to do more than to kiss her and hold her tightly in his arms. Yet he forced himself to keep running. Tomorrow he would kiss her.
If he lived through today.
Angelique stood rooted to the same spot long after Pierre had disappeared through the thick woods.
The booming continued to echo in the northern part of the island. Her heart thudded at the thought that Pierre was running into the line of danger.
A long bugle call sounded from the fort. She was sure it was a call to action, which meant the British soldiers would soon be marching out to meet the Americans. The Indians would likely join in the fight.
Pierre was right. She’d be safest inside the fort.
Was that why he’d been in such a hurry to get her back to the fort? Had he known about the impending battle? She hadn’t thought to question why he’d been out on the lake in the mist or why his face had been lined with exhaustion.
He’d been out communicating with the Americans. She was certain of it. Although she’d suspected he was spying and had figured that was why he’d been on the island that first morning he’d come back, he hadn’t made any mention of his allegiance to the Americans.
He’d played his role as a friend to the British flawlessly. She’d almost begun to believe he really was an ally with the British, especially after seeing the kind of relationship he had with Colonel McDouall and Lavinia.
Angelique took several steps toward the fort, trying to ignore the unease rolling around her stomach. She wasn’t sure she liked the idea that Pierre had been deceptive with the colonel and Lavinia.
While she knew those kinds of things happened in war, she didn’t want to believe Pierre would resort to lying, not now when he was attempting to live for God. And she didn’t want to think of the potential danger if the British learned of his treachery.
She let the lines of fish drop from her shoulders to the ground. With dread tapping a warning, she swung around and began to race after him. She didn’t know what she could possibly do to keep him from getting into trouble, but she couldn’t hide away in the fort.
When she reached the edge of the forest that bordered the Dousman farm, she stopped and listened, her breath coming in short gasps. The cannon fire had ceased and an eerie silence had descended over the island. To the east she heard the neighing of a horse and caught sight of a contingent of Redcoats near a ridge that overlooked the farm.
She hesitated. She didn’t dare cross the open field ahead. With a glance around, she spotted their thinking tree, the home to the great horned owls, the same cedar she’d climbed with Pierre earlier in the summer when he’d kissed her for the first time.
She made her way through the brush to the tree and began to climb it. The tree’s high branches would make the perfect hiding spot and also provide her with a lookout. She’d be able to see the distant northern shore and perhaps even be able to glimpse Pierre.
A whisper of caution urged her to retreat to the fort, where Pierre expected her to be. “I didn’t promise him I’d go,” she muttered to herself. “I’ll only stay for a little while, just until I make sure he’s not in danger.”
It didn’t take long for Colonel McDouall to arrive with more soldiers. They dug in on the higher ground, making quick work of chopping several trees and angling them against boulders to form a protective wall.
As the additional soldiers moved into view, Angelique shuddered. Almost every British soldier on the island had assembled for the battle. The colonel had obviously not left many to guard the fort.
On the opposite side of the farm in the woods that edged it, she caught sight of the United States Army moving among the trees, the sun glinting off their polished swords. When the soldiers finally began to move out into the open fields near Dousman’s farmhouse, Angelique released a pent-up breath.
The United States Army was at least double the size, if not triple. They would hopefully be able to outmaneuver the British. She strained to see Pierre. Would he be with the Americans or would he return to the British side and continue his charade?
As the Americans moved into two long battle lines, the British Royal Artillery opened fire. Angelique cringed into the trunk of the tree, covering her ears against the deafening noise. Smoke and dust clouded the air around the field, preventing her from taking stock of how the American forces were faring against the fire.
Her body tensed during the long minutes of waiting, until finally the haze cleared enough for her to see that except for creating some confusion among the American ranks, the fire had fallen short of the target. For a while the American artillerists returned the fire, but they were well off their intended targets too, and finally the cannons on both sides became silent.
Again Angelique peered through the smoke, studying both sides, praying for a glimpse of Pierre. Her stomach gave a low rumble from having
skipped breakfast, and her backside was numb from sitting in one position for so long. While the evergreen branches fanned around her, providing cool shade, the stickiness of the summer day penetrated her hiding spot. It wouldn’t be long before she was hot and thirsty. Should she go now, while she still had a chance?
Her eyes swept over both sides one more time and came to rest on the broad shoulders of a man approaching Colonel McDouall, who was mounted on a horse well behind his soldiers.
She sat forward. The swaggering steps belonged to only one man. Pierre.
He halted before the colonel and spoke at length, motioning with an arm to the south, to the rear of the British position. Within seconds of their conversation the colonel shouted orders to one of the regiments and pulled part of his force away from the oncoming threat of the United States Army. He charged off with his men through the woods in the direction of the fort, leaving one of his captains in charge of the troops that remained.
What had happened? Had Pierre given the British troops information that would help or harm the Americans?
She wanted to believe he was helping the Americans, but she didn’t know what to think anymore. Pierre began to edge his way back into the woods, slinking away while the British were busy regrouping the remaining troops. Angelique watched his every move until he disappeared.
Her heart urged her to follow him, but at the snap of a branch below, she froze. There in the shadows of the trees she saw Indians, squatting among the trunks and hiding behind boulders.
With a hushed gasp she flattened her back against the cedar, gripping the sticky bark with shaky fingers. Had they seen her? She closed her eyes and waited, prayed they wouldn’t spot her and climb up after her. After holding her breath until her lungs burned, she finally exhaled and dared to peer through the branches to the surrounding woods.
She counted at least two dozen Indians hiding around her. They were painted for war and brandishing clubs, hatchets, and even a few muskets. Angelique’s initial assurance in the strength of the Americans quickly faded. She had no doubt the entire woods surrounding the farm field were full of the Indian allies.