Beyond the Cliffs of Kerry (43 page)

He thanked his mother with a silent prayer, as he slipped the necklace into a drawstring bag. He placed it around his neck and secreted it under his linen shirt. Strapping on his pack and grabbing his rifle, Jean Michel left the house and headed toward
Fort
Lawrence
in search of Darcy, determined to return home with her before the summer was over.

He traveled swiftly, stopping to sleep only a few hours at a time. He had not a moment to lose, and his heart pounded in anticipation and fear. As Jean Michel drew near the fort, he climbed a promontory to scan the horizon. As he had hoped, he spied smoke circling upward, and he knew an Abenaki party was nearby. He headed in the direction of the camp, taking care not to startle them into an attack.

Stopping by an oak, he stuffed the drawstring bag holding the necklace into a hole of the tree. Turning in the direction of the Abenaki party, he shouted some words in French and announced his name. Slinging his rifle over his back, Jean Michel thrust his hands into the air and approached the camp. Suddenly two warriors jumped into his path, pointing muskets in his face.

A third Abenaki approached Jean Michel and asked him what his business was in the area. He asked about Darcy, and the Indian said that she had been taken up to
Quebec
several days back. Jean Michel's heart sank. He had hoped she was still detained at
Fort
Lawrence
, and after showing his gratitude, he started back toward the tree for the necklace. Once he was certain he was not being watched, he withdrew the bag and placed it around his neck again.

Jean Michel knew the journey to
Quebec
would be an arduous one, and he suffered for the sake of Darcy. He did not know what abuses she might be enduring, and it was painful to think that yet again she was being treated like a piece of property. With a deep sigh, he turned to the north, heading for
Quebec
and Darcy.

Chapter 31

LaRoche marveled at the stamina of the woman from
Ireland
. She had carried a small child on her back for days now and never once uttered a complaint or showed any sign of fatigue. He watched her, as she walked a few paces ahead of him, part of the long train of Abenaki and their prisoners headed over the mountains into the territories of
New France
.

He had never seen hair that dark against skin that light and he couldn't help but notice how the bright sun had reddened her cheeks. Most of his life, Raoul LaRoche had encountered native women, and although many of them were beautiful, no one had ever captured his attention in such a way.

His entire life had been spent on the frontier, and from the moment he was born, everyone knew that he would be a voyageur. As soon as Raoul could walk, he was groomed to follow in his father's footsteps. He was proud of the many years he had served as a bowsman, transporting hundreds of tons of furs from the wilds of the interior to the bustling community of
Quebec
, but now those days were over. He had grown too weak to paddle from twelve to eighteen hours a day and a dry, persistent cough nagged him, sapping his energy.

This was his first summer in retirement, and Raoul jumped at the chance to join in the fight against the English. He was afraid he would become useless and bored, drowning in self-pity and brandy, so when the call to arms was sounded, he answered. Little did he know he would encounter this woman from a land alien to him and be swept away by her loveliness.

All day long Raoul followed behind Darcy and watched her back. He loved the way she moved and the graceful way she held her head. He had not gathered enough courage to speak with her as of yet, but he found himself daydreaming about what he would say. The squat voyageur would then chastise himself for being foolish, remembering that a lady of her caliber would never find him attractive.

He knew that he was short and that he had an overdeveloped torso, but these characteristics were considered admirable qualities in a successful voyageur. Unfortunately, the fairer sex did not agree with this view, and when he was around Darcy, he was painfully aware that he was only remotely attractive. She never looked twice at him, and he asked only that she acknowledge his presence.

On their break to eat that day, Raoul positioned himself so he could see Darcy while he smoked his pipe. Maybe tonight he would approach her by the campfire. His English was not perfect, but he spoke enough to give her a kind word, and perhaps he could learn a little bit about her.

Raoul pushed his dark curls away from his bearded face. Part of the mystique of the profession was the voyageur's obsession with hair and dress, and Raoul was no exception. He took great pride in his long, curly hair, and he always kept it neatly combed and impeccably clean.

He looked around at the party and estimated that there were about twenty Indians and three prisoners making the trek northward. Of the prisoners there was the Irish woman, the little boy she carried on her back and an older girl, Raoul judged to be about fifteen or sixteen. He gathered that they were not related, but he could not be sure. They did not often speak, and they kept to themselves. He guessed that they did not wish to provoke the Abenaki with idle chatter or bring unwanted attention to themselves.

On the third evening before retiring, Raoul gathered his courage and approached Darcy. The boy lay in her lap drowsing, as Darcy hummed a tune and stroked the child's hair in front of the fire. LaRoche squatted down by her, removed his red, woolen cap and said in a voice thick with French accent, "Pardon, Madame. My name is Raoul LaRoche. May I carry the child for you tomorrow?"

As if awakening from a dream, Darcy looked over at him. She blinked her eyes and said, "I did not know anyone in this party could speak English."

The moment she looked at him, Raoul's reserve crumbled. Never in his life had he seen eyes that color, and he was so distracted he completely forgot what he was going to say. He looked down at his cap and mumbled, "My English is not good."

"Please sit down," offered Darcy.

Raoul's heart leaped. At last she had noticed him. Darcy turned and looked into his face, and he felt himself blush. Raoul cursed himself for revealing his feelings, and he looked down at the ground. Darcy did not miss this humble gesture, and she felt immediate affection for this unassuming Frenchman. Although he had a square, thick build, he had a nice face and sweet smile. His skin was swarthy and weather-beaten, and she supposed it was a result of years spent laboring in the sun. She noticed that his nose was broad and flat, most likely the result of a break years ago, but by far the most outstanding characteristic was the gentle expression of his eyes.

"My name is Darcy McBride. This child is Isaiah Warren and my companion seated over there is Faith Wyndom. Would you tell us, sir, where are we going?"

The realization hit Raoul that no one had bothered to tell these prisoners what to expect. For days now the party had been crossing the mountains headed north to the
Chaudière
River
, but these English were completely ignorant of their destination. Raoul carefully organized his words and explained, "At first they were taking you to
Quebec
to be a servant woman, but the Abenaki have changed their minds. They will present you to Father Cesaire as a gift. You may become nuns or workers in his mission. It is likely the boy will be adopted into the tribe."

"I thought that I was to be ransomed by Colonel Lawrence," said Darcy, beginning to feel confused and afraid.

Raoul hesitated a moment before saying anything. He was unsure how she felt about the English officer, who refused to rescue her, and he did not want to cause her pain, but there was no way to avoid it. He cleared his throat and said, "The colonel refused to pay the note. I am very sorry."

Darcy gasped as if she had been slapped. So Nathan had finally abandoned her. He had threatened to sell her papers on many occasions because of her willful ways, but in the end it came down to money.
 
Gold had been more precious to him than her safety, and once again she was nothing more than a commodity.

Raoul could see the anger build on her face and he said, "He is a very foolish man to leave you."

Darcy's face softened into a smile, as she replied, "You are a very nice man, Monsieur LaRoche."

A long silence passed as the embarrassed LaRoche struggled to find something to say. He stared into the fire mute and helpless, wishing that pleasantries would bubble more easily to his lips, but he was not an articulate man, and conversation did not come naturally in any language.

"Where is this mission?" Darcy asked, finally.

"On the
Chaudière
River
," said Raoul, greatly relieved that she had given him something to say. "It is very near my home, which is a settlement of mostly retired voyageurs."

"You are a voyageur?”

"I once was but not any longer. As you can see, I am not a young man. It is very difficult work to be a voyageur, and the days are very long.”

Suddenly, a dry cough wracked his body, and for some moments he was rendered helpless. When Raoul recovered, he apologized.

Darcy had heard stories about the voyageurs, but she had never met one. She examined her new acquaintance and found his dress to be most unusual. He wore a long, red shirt with a brightly colored sash around his waist and a breechcloth with deerskin leggings. On his feet were soft moccasins, and she could see him turn a little red woolen cap, over and over nervously in his hands. Darcy had been only vaguely aware of his presence until now, and she wished that he had introduced himself earlier. It had been torture knowing nothing of her fate.

She had been so preoccupied with keeping Molly's son safe and calming her own anxieties that she had not examined any of her captors until tonight. Taking care to avoid eye contact with anyone on the journey, she had always looked down at the ground. She was terrified of rape, but so far no one had attempted to touch her or Faith.

The presence of Raoul by her side, gave Darcy the courage to look around the campsite for the first time. She noticed that several of the Indians had gathered by the fire: some were cooking salmon, others were mending moccasins, and several were listening to a story. They were all dressed in breechcloths and leggings, and many wore shirts of woven fabric or buckskin. During the heat of the day, they frequently removed their shirts and were naked to the waist, and many wore beaded belts around their waists or across their chests. Several wore crosses, and Darcy remembered Jean Michel telling her many of the Abenaki had been converted to Catholicism by the Jesuits.

The Abenaki spoke to each other predominantly in their native tongue, and only occasionally did Darcy hear them speak French. They paid little attention to their prisoners, and thus far they had not been unkind to any of them.

Although the pace of the journey had been grueling, Darcy knew that she should keep up with the others, and she encouraged Faith to do the same. They had no patience for weak women, and it was essential that she and Faith move along with the party. Faith was growing alarmingly thin, and Darcy noticed that she herself had lost a lot of weight. She was unbearably tired every evening, and she turned to Raoul and said, "I would be very grateful to you if you would carry the child tomorrow as you offered.”

"I am sorry that I did not offer before, but they would not allow it. Tomorrow is our last full day, so I shall risk it. You must rest now, Madame. It will be another long day tomorrow."

Raoul stood up and with a slight bow left her for the night. Few prisoners had been taken from
Fort
Lawrence
. Many of them had escaped, but most of them had been killed during the siege including Nathan's cook Molly. It was extremely painful for Darcy to share the news with the little six-year-old boy that he would never see his mother again. Life on the frontier was indeed cruel.

The next day proved to be grueling, but knowing that it was the last one made all the difference in the world to the prisoners. Raoul carried the child the entire day, and Darcy noticed how he tossed the boy around as if he were a rag doll. Isaiah liked the retired voyageur, and Darcy believed the child's intuition told him that Raoul could be trusted.