Authors: David Michael
Gunwitch (31 page)
Da put his right hand on her head and his left on her shoulder. “What is the meaning of this, Leftenant?”
“I just brought you your Little Puncher, Colonel,” Mr. Thomas said. “Like I promised both her and General Tendring at Fort Gunter that I would do.”
“You traitor–”
“As you were, Major,” Da snapped, and took his hand from Margaret’s head. His command voice made Margaret start, but she did not let go.
She heard the hissing and clanking of the grunzers shifting, as if moving to protect Mr. Thomas.
“Sir!” Margaret recognized Major Haley’s voice. She was glad to know he was alive too, but she did not turn around. “Surely there can be no more doubt–”
“As you were, Major Haley,” Da said, still using his command voice, but not so loud and sharp as before. He returned his hand to Margaret’s head and stroked her hair. She sobbed at the soft, kind touch.
“Ah, the redoubtable Major Haley,” said Mr. Thomas. “I thought you looked familiar, but all of you officers look much the same to me. Your presence here, though, and the good colonel’s lack of inquiry or accusation about the lovely Janett, I will take as happy news. Janett did indeed reach you, did she not?”
Margaret felt Da stiffen, but he said nothing. Her knees felt weak, hearing that Janett was alive, as well, and safe in the fort. Away from Mr. Thomas.
“Don’t try to deny it, colonel,” Mr. Thomas went on. “I’m not surprised in the least. I knew Rose would keep her safe and get her to you. In fact, I counted on it. Lovely Rose, always so faithful. By the by, Colonel Laxton, where
is
Rose?”
“Sergeant Bainbridge,” Da said, then paused. “Miss Bainbridge refused her duty here. She went back into the bayuk. In search of Margaret.” Da’s left hand squeezed her shoulder just a bit as he said this.
Margaret’s eyes burned with the shame she felt. Miss Rose had not abandoned her.
“I suppose the native girl, Chal, went with her?” Mr. Thomas asked.
“What? Of course, Leftenant–I mean, Mr. Ducoed.”
“A pity,” Mr. Thomas said. “For today. But that does leave me something to look forward to. I wouldn’t want all my victories on a single day, now would I?” Margaret shuddered, hearing again what Mr. Thomas wasn’t saying. “Now, Colonel Laxton, since we have the reunions and pleasantries out of the way, we need to get down to the business of your surrender.”
“My surrender?”
“Yes, colonel, your surrender. Surely you have noticed that you lost? That of all the brave men you led to the attack, none have survived except these fine officers and gentlemen that are with you.” Mr. Thomas paused. “Though, now I think of it,” he went on, “that does always seem to be the case. The officers live, the men die.”
“Fort Russell still stands, Mr. Ducoed, and I am sure you have noticed that the flag of England still flies over her walls.”
“Yes, colonel, and that brings me to my first point. You and your officers will return to the fort and order the surrender of the defenders.”
Da stood straighter, though Margaret never understood how he was able to do that. “I will not order my men to surrender to be slaughtered, Mr. Ducoed.”
“I don’t expect you to, Colonel,” Mr. Thomas said. Margaret did not have to see his smile to know it was there. “Your men, and your officers and your daughters, of course, will all be allowed to leave.”
Margaret stopped crying and opened her eyes. She did not turn her face. She did not want to see Mr. Thomas. She saw an officer she did not recognize, a major, standing at attention to Da’s right.
“But not I?” asked Da.
“No, colonel, I’m sorry to say it, but that is the price for your command and your family. Your life for theirs.”
“Sir!” said the major she didn’t know. “That is out of the question–”
“As you were, Major Eason,” Da said.
Major Eason opened his mouth as if to say more, then closed it.
“Will my men be allowed to keep their arms?” Da asked.
“I would not have it any other way, colonel,” Mr. Thomas said. “Your men may keep their arms and their banners. Tomorrow morning they may march out with their heads held high. When they reach Fort Gunter, they will give the message to General Tendring that Fort Russell has been reclaimed.”
“Reclaimed by whom, Mr. Ducoed?” Da asked.
“That will be revealed soon enough, colonel.”
Margaret felt Da give a short, tight nod. “I accept your terms,” he said.
Margaret pulled back so she could look at Da’s face. “No!” she said.
“Hush, Margaret.”
“Da!”
“We will speak of this later, Margaret.”
Margaret buried her face against the cloth of his jacket, adding new tears to the dampness she felt.
“As I said, Mr. Ducoed, I accept your terms.”
“Very good. You and your officers may return to the fort.”
“Come along, Margaret–” Da moved his hands to her arms and tugged gently. Margaret resisted. She did not want to let go. She did not believe that Mr. Thomas would let her go.
“I am sorry, colonel, but Margaret must remain with me. As a surety.”
Margaret squeezed even tighter.
“As a hostage, you mean,” Da managed to say.
“As you will. She will be allowed to leave with the rest of your men, of course, in the morning.”
“I will not leave my daughter with you another night, Mr. Ducoed. Fort Russell still has defenders and does not require me or my presence. I will die here, now, before I let you take my daughter.”
“As will I,” Major Haley said.
“And I,” Major Eason said. The rest of the officers said the same.
Margaret risked a quick peek to see Mr. Thomas’ face. He saw her and he smiled. She looked away again.
“Very well,” Mr. Thomas said. “You may take Margaret with you, if I can have your word as an officer that you will honor the terms we have agreed to.”
“You have my word, Mr. Ducoed.”
“I never doubted it for a minute, Colonel Laxton. And you have mine, of course.”
“Of course, Mr. Ducoed.”
* * *
“He’s lying,” Margaret whispered as they walked up the slope to the fort. Her throat was tight from her crying. She had to force the words out. She had refused to let go of Da. She walked beside him, her right arm around his back, her right hand clutching his jacket, her left hand holding his left hand pressed against her face. She wanted to tell Da everything. She wanted him to tell her she was safe. She needed to tell him what she knew. She had waited until they were clear of the circle that had been guarding them, and there were none of the other–things–close by. “Mr. Thomas is lying.”
“Hush, Margaret,” Da said, also whispering.
“But he’s lying,” she said again. “Mr. Thomas lies.”
“Shh, Margaret. Don’t you think your father knows that?”
“Then why–?”
“Shh. We don’t want them to hear us talking about what we know and plan to do about what we know, do we, Little Puncher?”
Margaret buried her face in his coat again and let him lead her.
* * *
Mr. Thomas’ lumbering, once-dead men and women had been pulled back from the walls of the fort so Margaret, Da and the other officers stood alone before the gate. Still, the gate only opened wide enough for them to come through one at a time, then was pushed closed behind them as soon as the last one had passed through.
Janett ran into Margaret and Da, blubbering and trying to hug them both at once before the gate was closed. Margaret did not want to let go of Da, but she managed to get an arm around Janett as well.
Da started barking orders over their heads. “Captain Keele, bring the prisoner to my briefing room. Major Eason, compose a list of the men remaining. Sergeant Mabson, fetch the quartermaster to my briefing room. And Major Haley, if you please, take my daughters to my quarters, see that they have what they need, and then join us in the briefing room.”
Janett fell against Major Haley, still crying, wrapping her arms around his neck. Major Haley looked embarrassed. “Margaret?” he said, holding out a hand.
“No,” Margaret said. She had only just found Da, and she did not want to let him go.
“Margaret, please,” Da said, placing his hand on her head. “Please. There is much to do.”
“No,” she said.
Da’s posture changed and Margaret felt someone step behind her. A hand touched her shoulder. A woman’s hand.
A soft voice said, “Come along, Margaret Laxton.”
“Chal?”
“Yes, Margaret Laxton.”
“But–” Margaret stopped and looked up at Da. “Is Miss Rose here too?”
Da’s face became hard to read, a combination of closed and stubborn. “Yes, Margaret, Sergeant–I mean, Miss–Bainbridge is here. In the fort. Margaret, please, go with Major Haley, and–Chal. I will come to see you when what must be done has been decided.”
“But I just found you.”
“And you haven’t lost me, Little Puncher.” He reached around behind his back and took her hands in his, separated them, pulled them around in front of him. He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. His lips felt dry on her skin. “I will come to see you,” he said, looking her in the eye. “But there are important things that must be seen to first.” He stood straight, and stepped back from her embrace.
Margaret moved to follow him, to stay close to him, but Chal’s hand on her shoulder stopped her. Da let go of her hands. She kept her hands outstretched to him. With a nod to Major Haley, Da turned and walked away.
* * *
Margaret leaned against Chal as she and the native woman followed Major Haley and the still blubbering Janett. Ahead of them, Da walked, not looking back. He walked the way Margaret always remembered him walking, tall and straight. Taller and straighter than any man she had ever seen.
Janett no longer had her arms around Major Haley as they walked, but his right arm was around her waist, helping her to stay on her feet, Margaret decided, and Janett held his left hand to her bosom. Margaret found herself wondering which of them had been lost in the bayuk, captured, and exposed to–unspeakable things that made her shudder as she tried not to remember. Her? Or Janett? She pushed the tears out of her swollen eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. She stood straighter, like Da, so she was not leaning on Chal. She made herself think of Mum, and Da– Except Da was going to sacrifice himself.
“You are strong, Margaret Laxton,” Chal whispered in her ear. “Like your father.”
You are strong
. Mum had told her that once, too. Just before Margaret and Janett had boarded the
Maryanna Rose
, bound for the New World and New Venezia. And Da–
Margaret pushed aside the thought of Da’s sacrifice as she watched him open a door, step inside, and close the door behind him. She did not feel strong. She felt exhausted. From walking. From putting one foot in front of the other. From not seeing what she had been forced to see. From not hearing what she had been forced to hear. From refusing to feel anything. She did not know what she felt. What she should feel. She did not want to remember what she doubted she would ever be able to forget.
“You are walking on your own feet, Margaret Laxton,” Chal said. “You are tired, but you are not broken.”
“I am tired,” Margaret said. “I want to break.”
“You will not break, Margaret Laxton. You are strong.”
“I don’t want to be strong.”
“We do not always want to be what we are, Margaret Laxton.” Chal paused, then said, “I hear the waters even now, singing to me. They sing to me of endings and new beginnings. They sing to me of you, Margaret Laxton.”
Margaret wanted to ask Chal what she meant, but when she looked at the native woman’s face, so solemn, the brown eyes focused beyond the walls of the fort, she said nothing. In the silence that followed, though, Margaret realized she could hear the waters of the Misi-ziibi as they flowed past the fort. And the waters did sing. A low melody, with whispered words that Margaret could almost understand.
“Chal?” she asked.
Chal did not respond, except to smile.
As she listened, she remembered the warmth of the water embracing her, and a kiss. She remembered a soft voice.
We are coming, Margaret Laxton
.
“Here we are, Margaret,” Major Haley said, distracting her, shattering the memory and drowning the music of the river.
Major Haley had led them to a cluster of squat log buildings in the northeast corner of the fort. Da had walked in the same direction, but Major Haley stood before a different door than the one Da had entered.
Disoriented, Margaret looked at Chal. The native woman said nothing. Chal leaned down and kissed Margaret on the forehead.
“Where is Miss Rose?” Margaret asked as they entered a small, rustically appointed sitting room. “Is she on the wall?”
“Rose let herself be bound by duty,” Chal said. “Did she not, Major Haley?”