Beyond the Cliffs of Kerry (27 page)

BOOK: Beyond the Cliffs of Kerry
13.77Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
 

"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.

 

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.

 

Suddenly she realized that he was laughing at her, and he asked suggestively, "Do you like what you see?

 

Darcy took a sip of rum and shifted in her chair. She looked up at him, and she saw he was smirking. She tried to hide a smile. Darcy admitted that she was attracted to this man, but she was not about to be lured into a tawdry liaison.

 

There was a crack of thunder, and the rain began to hammer the roof of the cabin. Jean Michel leaned forward and with a look of distaste asked, "Why did you allow yourself to be bought by
Lawrence
?"

 

Darcy sighed and sat up straight. "I had no choice. I did not choose to be his indentured servant or anyone's slave. I am a convict.”

 

"You go to him unwillingly?" he asked with surprise.

 

"I told you I am a convict serving my sentence, not an Irish whore."

 

Jean Michel recalled his words from the morning. “It seems I spoke out of turn earlier today, my apologies.”

 

Darcy shrugged and continued, "For the most part, Nathan has been fair with me, and I am better off than my comrades who were hanged for the same crime.

 

"Which was?"

 

"Trading with the French during the war. We weren't getting rich, just trying to feed ourselves and our families. They punished us most severely."

 

"Did your husband hang too?"

 

"No, I have no husband. I will never marry."

 

"Why in heaven's name would you never marry?" he asked with astonishment.

 

"Because men don't love women; they only need them. They need them to take care of the home and children and to satisfy their pleasures."

 

Seeing his frown, she added, "Nathan didn't like my point of view either."

 

"It’s very cynical," he answered.

 

"It is how I see it. Where is your wife?" she asked in return.

 

"My wife is dead. She died in childbirth over thirteen years ago."

 

"Did you love her?" Darcy asked bluntly.

 

Jean Michel‘s jaw tightened. He swallowed hard and said, "I am afraid I did not."

 

"You see! You are a perfect example of what I was talking about," she gloated.

 

"In this case, I suppose you are right," he agreed.

 

Jean Michel's eyes dropped to the floor for a moment then he continued, "We met when I was studying to be a surveyor at the
College
of
William
and Mary in
Virginia
. She was very pretty, yet she was very fragile. I suppose as a young man I was attracted to that. I thought I could take care of her. I killed her when I brought her to the frontier. She was meant for drawing rooms, not the one room cabins in the wilderness. When she was with child, that first winter, she grew very thin and pale. I tried to keep her healthy and her spirits up, but after five months she died giving birth to a still-born."

 

Darcy was horrified.
How could I have gloated over this man's misfortunes?
She rubbed her forehead then said, "Now it’s my turn to apologize."

 

He chuckled. "Now why did I tell you that story?"

 

He stood up suddenly and announced, “We have been here long enough. I think it’s safe to go.”

 

As he stepped out into the pouring rain, Jean Michel had to regain his composure. He was not sure he liked the feelings that were churning inside him. This McBride woman had the ability to reach into his soul and open doors he thought were closed forever. She ignited a desire in him that was beyond anything he had ever imagined.

 

Confused and overwhelmed, he blamed it on long months without carnal pleasures, and pushing it from his mind; he started down the path for the McDermott homestead.

 
 

Chapter 21

 

The wind tossed the trees wildly, and the cracking of the thunder reminded Darcy of cannon fire. Her skirts were heavy with mud, and her soaked hair clung to her face and shoulders. She stumbled clumsily down the path, unable to see the roots and rocks in the darkness of the forest. Jean Michel walked behind her, trying to quell his fears about the effectiveness of gunpowder in the rain.

 

A yellow light flickered through the trees as they approached the McDermott homestead. Darcy thought it was a campfire, and then suddenly she realized the cabin was in flames.

 

“Oh, Good Lord!” she cried. She bolted down the path with only one thought--to save the family burning in the cabin. Blindly she dashed, jumping over rocks and pushing branches aside when suddenly a root caught her foot, and she tumbled to the ground. Fast as lightning she jumped to her feet running directly into the clearing. In an instant, Jean Michel was upon her. He grabbed her arm and yanked her back swinging her around to his chest and clapped his hand over her mouth. Darcy struggled to break free, but his arm around her waist felt like steel. She kicked and squirmed, but he tightened his grip.

 

He dragged her back into the cover of the trees, as she watched the cabin engulfed in flames. The blaze shot high into the night sky, illuminating everything in the clearing, and Darcy closed her eyes. Jean Michel felt her body relax, and he loosened his grip. He scanned the clearing for danger, all was quiet.

 

Jean Michel could feel Darcy’s heart pounding and her soft breasts against his chest. He dropped his arms, and she stepped away still watching the blaze. He whispered, "I believe the danger is past, but we must approach with caution.”

 

Holding their muskets in front of them, they walked down the hill to look for survivors. The heat from the fire was intense, and it shed enough light for them to see that there were no dead bodies in the clearing. The family had either been taken prisoner or burned in the fire.

 

Darcy stepped over debris and scanned the woods. The fire threw long shadows across everything, and more than once Darcy mistook them for assailants.

 

She saw Jean Michel straining to listen, and when Darcy stood motionless she heard it too--a low, moaning sound coming from the direction of the well. Instantly, she recognized the wailing of
Nan
, and picked up some burning debris as a torch running to the well.

 

Holding the flame overhead, she looked down expecting to see only
Nan
, but instead she saw Adrianna and the children. Jean Michel ran over as well.

 

"Is this everyone?" he asked. When Darcy nodded, he stated, "Then we must get them into the woods quickly."

 

One by one he pulled Adrianna and the children from their hiding place. As fast as he could pull them out, Darcy would race them to the shelter of the trees. The older children tried to walk, but the water had numbed their legs, and it was difficult to stand. The last child to go into the woods was
Nan
, and when Jean Michel bent to pick her up, she let out a blood-curdling scream. He jumped back and looked at Adrianna with surprise. She picked up
Nan
and dashed for the woods with the child struggling and screaming in her arms.

 

"Is everyone here, Adrianna?" asked Darcy.

 

She nodded. "When we heard the cannon fire this morning, we knew what was happening and went directly to the well. When the French and Abenaki arrived, they assumed we had fled to the fort, so they did not search for us. They moved on to burning the house."

 

"Didn't a rider come by to warn you of the attack?" asked Darcy.

 

"We saw no one."

 

"I am not surprised.” said Darcy frowning. “Nathan would only alert the families of the militia. The rest could go to the devil for all he cared."

 

Jean Michel said, "There will be time to be angry later. We must all get to safety now. I don't know what to do about
Nan
. She will alert the entire forest the minute we touch her. If only we had your dog, Darcy. Stroking his fur was soothing to her."

Other books

When I Found You by Catherine Ryan Hyde
Los hombres lloran solos by José María Gironella
Grizzly by Gary Paulsen
Who Do I Lean On? by Neta Jackson
Sektion 20 by Paul Dowswell
Summer of Fire by Linda Jacobs