Chapter 20
The sun was beginning to come up over the horizon when Darcy rose from Nathan's bed. He was still asleep after a hard day organizing the militia and dealing with frantic settlers. Darcy could not stay in bed any longer. She was too worried about Moses and Adrianna McDermott. Hoping that they might have come in during the night, she dressed and went out to the parade ground. She stepped outside the door and stretched.
Large red clouds were hanging in the sky, and the morning air felt cool and refreshing after a night of stifling heat. Aside from those on sentry duty, the fort was deserted.
As she passed the officers' quarters, she spied the man who had been staring at her last evening, and she quickened her pace. He was bending over a wash basin, splashing water on his face and chest, and Darcy thought if she hurried, he might not notice her. He straightened up to dry himself and caught sight of her. Jean Michel reached for a towel and said with a suggestive smile, "Well, good morning!"
Darcy did not reply and kept walking. He grabbed his shirt and ran after her. "You must not have heard me. I said good morning!"
"I heard you," Darcy said, looking straight ahead.
He was presumptuous to be naked to the waist and walking by her side, and she resented his disrespect. He made no attempt to put his shirt on and merely flung it carelessly over his shoulder.
"I hear you had a close call with an Abenaki yesterday. They say you outran him. There are few white people that can outrun an Indian. In fact, you even walk fast," he said, chuckling and picking up his pace.
Darcy made no attempt to encourage conversation, as she walked on briskly, looking straight ahead.
"So you're from Ireland? What do you think of the Colonies?" continued Jean Michel, not yet discouraged.
Darcy stopped, faced him squarely and said, "Who are you and why are you bothering me?"
Her abrupt manner surprised Jean Michel. He was not used to being rebuffed by women, and his attitude changed from friendly to sharp.
"All right, have it your way. My name is Jean Michel Lupe', and I will tell you exactly what I want. I am very interested in you, and I was wondering if you would consider taking on another customer."
Darcy’s eyes narrowed. Certain that pride would be his Achilles’ heel; Darcy looked him up and down and said, "I don't keep company with riff-raff."
Jean Michel frowned, and Darcy knew that she had hit the mark. His hot temper got the better of him, and he snarled, "Those are mighty high airs for an Irish whore!"
Just as she was about to slap him, there was a loud crack, and one of the sentries fell off the wall landing with a thud on the ground near them. Darcy froze, staring at the body. When she realized what had happened she ran one direction as Lupe’ ran the other. Darcy pulled the bell rope frantically alerting the fort, as Jean Michel dashed back to the wash basin, grabbing his rifle. He scrambled up to the south battery looking out over the river, but he could see nothing unusual.
He pulled his shirt over his head, as the garrison made frenzied attempts to get organized. Suddenly, shots rang from a wooded area.
Darcy looked up at the handful of guards on the walls and realized they needed every musket immediately. She climbed up by Lupe’ and began loading her own musket. "Get down, you fool!” he barked. “You’re in the way."
Darcy loaded and sat down with her back against the wall to wait for the assault. She cursed Nathan for not taking the threat seriously and failing to post more guards.
Suddenly, the French and Abenaki started up the hill, running furiously toward the fort. They planned to scale the walls before the garrison had time to even get out of bed. Jean Michel was firing continually and reloading. Darcy knew it would be most effective for her to fire as he was loading, so after watching him take a shot, she took a deep breath swung around and fired. She only grazed the Indian's arm. He was stunned for a moment then continued to dash up the hill.
Darcy loaded again and swung around to take another shot when the Abenaki’s chest exploded with blood. She realized that Jean Michel shot him.
The attackers were drawing nearer, and in frenzy the regulars loaded the cannons. Darcy looked down and saw a grizzly Frenchman in a fur cap beginning to scale the wall below her, and her heart jumped to her throat. Jean Michel was reloading, so it was up to her to kill the man without hesitation. She brought the musket up, aimed--and nothing happened. She froze. Terrified, she let the barrel drop. She couldn’t do it. Raising her eyes, she looked once more into the man’s face. She recognized the expression in his eyes; she had seen it on the faces of the soldiers who raped her at the abbey. All compassion drained from her, and she brought the musket up putting a bullet into his forehead.
Jean Michel was stunned. After killing a man he fully expected her to dissolve into hysterics, but there she sat, loading her next volley. He shook his head, swung around and took a shot.
After several more rounds, Darcy was replaced by one of the regulars and went below to assist with carrying wounded to the surgery. There was smoke everywhere, and it choked and blinded her, as she stumbled across the parade ground. People ran throughout the fort, putting out fires or tending to the wounded. In spite of the panic she felt inside, she knew that she must get to work, people were dying.
Darcy pushed up her sleeves and reached down to attend to a man with a bullet in his knee. Most of the wounded had taken shots to their arms or legs, but a few had their bowels or chests open. She knew if the trauma did not kill them fever would. She cleaned their wounds with witch hazel and applied dressings, but many of the men died within minutes, some of them crying out in agony, others with quiet resignation.
As evening fell, the gunfire slowed down and the air began to clear of smoke. The attack appeared to be over until dawn when the French and the Abenaki would try again to take the fort. Darcy washed up, changed her blood-soaked clothes and went to get something to eat. She did not feel hungry, but she knew she must put something in her belly.
As she crossed the parade ground she looked for Moses and Adrianna McDermott. They were nowhere to be found, so she requested to see Nathan. He was pouring over some maps with Lupe' when she was escorted into the room. He looked up at her and said impatiently, "What is it, Darcy? I'm busy."
"Adrianna McDermott and her eight children are not in the fort.”
Nathan ignored her and resumed talking with Jean Michel, pointing at the map. She repeated her statement again, this time louder. Nathan looked up and said, "Who is Adrianna McDermott?"
"The woman whose husband was scalped last spring. She and her eight children didn't make it to the fort before the siege began, and now they are trapped out there."
He sighed. "What do you expect me to do about it? It was their responsibility to get up here before the siege. I cannot go after them now."
"There are eight children out there! How can you dismiss that so easily? If you'll do nothing, then I will. I want permission to leave the fort and bring them back to safety," she demanded.
Nathan rolled his eyes, and Jean Michel smirked. Nathan said firmly, "You'll do no such thing. This discussion is over.” Turning to the guard he said, "Please show Miss McBride out."
Jerking her arm free from the guard, Darcy cried, "Wait a minute, Nathan, I'm not through.”
Nathan slammed his fist on the table and barked, "You are most certainly through! Don't you ever forget you are my property, and I have supreme authority regarding your whereabouts! You will not leave this fort, and you will not remain in my office! Is that clear?"
Darcy blanched. To be reminded that she was nothing more than a piece of property in front of this arrogant newcomer was more than she could bear. She would never forgive Nathan for demeaning her publicly.
Jean Michel saw her jaw tighten before she turned on her heel and left the room. He thought Darcy was impudent, but he also thought Lawrence had been hard on her.
Darcy stood outside Nathan's office clenching her fists. She had to clear her mind of this r
age and come up with a plan as quickly as possible. Lives were at stake. All of a sudden, the office door opened, and she found herself face to face with Jean Michel. With an exasperated sigh, she turned her back on him and walked on the parade ground.
He called after her. "You're going out there anyway, aren't you?"
Darcy kept walking. He caught up with her and said, "I'll take you to that woman's cabin."
She laughed and said, “Oh, no.”
Jean Michel watched her walk away and desire stirred inside him. What am I doing? This can mean only trouble. Something drove him on. He ran after her again. “I mean it. I will take you."
Darcy narrowed her eyes. “What's in it for you? You could get into a lot of trouble helping me. Colonel Lawrence has a lot of authority."
"Do you see me in a uniform?’ he said grabbing his lapels, and grinning. “I answer to no one. If I choose to walk out there and commit suicide with you, that is my business."
Darcy looked at him closely for the first time. She noticed his eyes were an indigo blue and his skin dusky. She looked away feeling uneasy. He was certainly a capable escort and a good shot, but she did not trust him.
"Thank you, but I'd rather go alone," she answered.
Jean Michel couldn't believe what he was hearing. He had offered to escort her on a perilous journey, and she said that she would rather go alone. Then the reason occurred to him.
"Are you afraid of me?" he said narrowing his eyes.
"What?" asked Darcy, feigning ignorance.
"That's it, isn't it? You're afraid of me."
"Ridiculous."
"That can be the only reason that you would decline a capable escort." he said jumping in front of her.
"Believe me, you don't intimidate me, Mr. Lupe'," laughed Darcy, stepping around him.
"Then let me take you out to rescue those children. Refusing my help may cost them their lives. Do you want that on your conscience?"
This argument gave Darcy pause. She rubbed her forehead and said, "All right, but we leave tonight. I can only hope that they're still alive."
"Meet me at the gate in fifteen minutes," he said.
Jean Michel thought he must have lost his mind. What was he doing going out onto the frontier tonight? His impetuous offer might cost him his life, all because this damned woman was clouding his judgment.
Clad in a dark dress with her musket in hand, Darcy met Jean Michel at the gate. She noticed that he had changed into a buckskin shirt and leggings. He had a shot pouch and powder horn strapped across his chest and a hunting knife in his belt.
"Where are your orders?" barked the guard as they approached the gate.
"Why would we need orders to go out?" asked Jean Michel as if the guard was stupid. "You'd do better to worry about those who want to get in."
This logic confused the sentry long enough for him to open the gate and let them slip out. They agreed Darcy would lead since she knew the way to the cabin.
To the right was the enemy encampment, on the left a path to the McDermott cabin. It was a warm, humid night, and the crickets were loud. The moon was hidden behind a thick blanket of clouds, and a roll of thunder in the distance heralded a storm.
Darcy felt vulnerable standing outside the fort. She hadn't realized how much comfort the walls had given her, and when she looked at Jean Michel, he signaled to her that it was time to go. Taking a deep breath, she bolted down across the clearing as fast as her legs would carry her. If they could make it to the trees undetected, they would be past their first and most dangerous hurdle.
Darcy crossed successfully and threw herself into the underbrush of the woods waiting for Lupe‘. Jean Michel was soon beside her, and he yanked her to her feet roughly. They raced down the deer path as another peel of thunder rolled in the distance. He was grateful for the upcoming storm; the thunder and rain would drown out the sounds of their footsteps.
Just as they rounded the oak tree where Darcy found Nan, Jean Michel heard voices. He reached out and grabbed Darcy's belt. He yanked her up next to him and whispered, "It's the French. Where would it be safe for us to wait?"
Darcy thought of Moses' cabin. It was off the path of the soldiers and not well-cleared. They returned the way they had come but this time turned downriver to Moses' cabin. Darcy was relieved to see that it was still standing, but when they entered it was empty. Moses had obviously learned of the siege and fled.
Darcy lit a candle. Keeping their weapons handy they sat down at the table to wait until the French had passed through the area.
The thunder was coming regularly now, but there was no rain yet. Jean Michel looked around the cabin and asked, "Is the person who lives here up at the fort?"
"No, Moses wouldn’t go to the fort," returned Darcy.
"Moses. Moses Tinker?" asked Jean Michel.
Darcy nodded.
He said with a chuckle, "So old Moses finally settled down. He talked about it for years, but I never thought he'd do it." Jean Michel looked around at the cabin, smiling.
"You know him?” she asked.
"I've known Moses ever since I was a boy. He used to trap with my father up around Quebec. It was on one of their expeditions down south that my father met my mother. How do you know him?"
"He was our guide coming here. I helped him build this cabin in exchange for a musket and shooting lessons."
"You're a fair shot. He didn't do a bad job. Knowing Moses, there's some rum around here. I could stand a drink."
He looked in the cupboard and found a bottle and two mugs, which he set on the table. The candlelight illuminated the two of them as they sat at the table, throwing everything else into the shadows. Jean Michel couldn't help but notice how the flame illuminated Darcy's green eyes. After pouring them each a drink, he sat down, crossed his arms over his chest and scrutinized her.
He had looked at her that same way on the parade ground last night. Darcy shifted uncomfortably in her seat and asked, "Why have you been meeting with Colonel Lawrence?"
Mention of his name was a sobering reminder that Darcy was unavailable, and he answered, "Governor Shirley has ordered a fort to be built up north, and I am here to survey the area and present my findings to Lawrence. I was finalizing plans with him when the attack happened."
"You do not wear the King's uniform. Why is that?" asked Darcy.
"I have no love for King George and his Parliament. I believe them to be selfish and opportunistic, and we would be better off governing ourselves."
"You sound like all Irishmen," laughed Darcy. "I find it hard to believe that the British trust you in military matters with your French name."
"I find it hard to believe as well," he said, shrugging,. "But they are desperate for surveyors, and they know that my mother was English."
"How did your father fare living in the British Colonies?"
"He didn't live here. My mother raised my brother and me by herself near the Piscataqua Plantation, just south of here. It was very difficult for her because of the bad blood between France and England. My father came to see us maybe twice a year. He owned a successful trading post near Quebec."
"Why didn't she go there to live?" asked Darcy.
"It was too dangerous, and there were no white women. My mother would have died of loneliness up there. Staying in the Piscataqua Valley was lonely enough. She loved my father very much and missed him terribly."
"Has it been difficult for you to live in English settlements with a French name? Wouldn't it be easier to go by John Michael instead of Jean Michel?"
He shook his head. “I'm proud of my French heritage, and I would never deny the name my father gave me. I have been caught between the two worlds all my life, and I am accustomed to it."
It was Darcy's turn to study Jean Michel. He seemed well educated, but he was living on the frontier, well bred but dressed in coarse linen. She was unable to put this man into any category, but one thing was certain; whenever he was around, a strange, unsettled feeling came over her.<
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The French background helped explain his dark complexion and fine features. He was tall with broad shoulders but not big boned, and under the buckskin shirt, Darcy could see that his body was taut and firm. Although his face was clean shaven, it had the hint of a heavy beard.
Beyond the Cliffs of Kerry Page 18