Beyond the Cliffs of Kerry (40 page)

Nathan took her by the hands, drawing her up into his arms. He brushed his lips across her neck and said, "Oh, how I've missed you. You've always belonged with me, Darcy. You know that."

He sat down on the chair and pulled her onto his lap. As he slid his lips over her skin, Darcy swallowed hard. Everything was happening so fast, and she was feeling so confused.
No, she could not endure this again
. As Nathan dictated what happened to her body, Darcy's spirit stood up and walked to the door. With great relief she realized that she felt nothing as Nathan took her--there was no fear, no hurt and no pain. Darcy's spirit passed out the door to walk on the cliffs of Kerry.

Chapter 29

Jean Michel sat on the floor of the stockade with his head in his hands trying to think. He had promised Darcy that he would never leave her, but his hot temper had clouded his judgment. He had delivered her right back into bondage.

He had never suspected that life would reveal to him such boundless love, yet they had been together for such a short time, and it had all been too good to be true. If Nathan Lawrence had his way, Jean Michel would be wiped from the face of the earth, but that was not going to happen. He would think of a way out of this, but try as he might, there were too many obstacles. When he became frustrated, he remembered what Etienne had told him years ago, that God always reveals the way; simply wait for it to unfold.

The door of the stockade opened suddenly, and Jean Michel was pulled roughly to his feet by two of the regulars. They bound his hands in front of him with a leather thong and took him across the parade ground.

Jean Michel was stunned. Daylight had come, and he still had no plan to free himself and Darcy. He looked frantically for her among the faces gaping at him, but she was nowhere to be found.

The door of
Lawrence
's office opened, and Jean Michel was pushed roughly inside. Nathan looked up from his chair, leaned back and said, "I think it's a pity that I must deliver you to Governor Shirley under these circumstances, but it is out of my hands, Lupe'. You broke the King's law."

Jean Michel said nothing, only stared straight ahead. He was not going to be goaded into another confrontation.

Nathan handed Jean Michel's notes and maps to one of the escorts and said, "Deliver him to the authorities as soon as you arrive in
Boston
, Sergeant Adams and take his work to the governor immediately thereafter. I know he anxiously awaits the results of the survey."

Lawrence
turned back to Jean Michel and said, "I asked Miss McBride if she cared to see you one final time, and she expressed no interest. I believe I have enlightened her as to your motives, Lupe'."

Jean Michel remained expressionless. The guards marched him toward the gate. He could tolerate Sergeant Adams, but he despised the two regulars who accompanied him. They were filthy, toothless fools with brutish attitudes. He knew that they would take this opportunity to bolster their manhood and mistreat him.

Jean Michel continued to search the faces of the fort, looking for Darcy. His heart began to race and his palms sweat.
What if he were to hang and never see her again? He must look into her eyes one last time.
He stopped abruptly and looked back at
Lawrence
's quarters. One of the guards, a big soldier with black curly hair and a low forehead named Ives, gave Jean Michel a swift kick, growling, "Get going, you high and mighty bastard."

The four passed through the gate and approached the trail which led to the lower Massachusetts Colony. Ives and Scroggins elbowed and kicked him as they walked through the clearing, but he continued to strain to get one last look at Darcy.

Sergeant Adams ignored the behavior of the two regulars as walked ahead of the group, his eyes straight ahead. He resented having to deliver this prisoner and these maps so many miles to the south. He preferred to pass away the hours at the fort doing nothing. They had all grown complacent during the summer months. There had been no sign of the French or the Abenaki, and they believed that they had thoroughly intimidated them in the siege the year before.

The party was just about to enter the woods when Jean Michel decided to turn back one last time to look for Darcy, but Scroggins hit him with the butt end of his musket, doubling him over in pain. They dragged Jean Michel roughly into the woods, hurling insults at him and spitting on him. Sergeant Adams remained unconcerned.

Jean Michel was exhausted, the rapidity with which he had delivered Darcy to the fort, the sleepless night in the stockade and the abuses he was enduring took its toll on him.

At midday, the party stopped in a small clearing to rest and eat. Jean Michel sat wearily leaning against a tree, rubbing his wrists where the leather thong was cutting into his skin. He saw Ives and Scroggins passing a bottle back and forth while Sergeant Adams was tearing sullenly at his jerky.

After relieving themselves, the two sat down in front of Jean Michel and nudged one another. Scroggins, an overweight, greasy soldier with bad breath, leaned toward Jean Michel and said thickly, "You remember me? I was the one who caught you trying to give it to
Lawrence
's whore the night of the dance. I watched the two of you for a long time before I said anything."

He stuffed some hardtack into his mouth and said, spewing crumbs all over, "I can't blame you. I'm going to set a charge of gunpowder off inside her myself."

The two threw their heads back and roared. Ives wiped his nose with his sleeve and said, "Say, I got an idea. We could follow her some afternoon when she goes down to see that crazy old man and give it to her good.
Lawrence
won’t believe her if she told, he don’t trust her anyhow.

Jean Michel knew Scroggins was right;
Lawrence
would no longer believe anything Darcy told him. He also knew the lascivious nature of these men, and rape was the sort of sport which amused them.

"It's time!" they heard
Adams
bark, and they rose and resumed their journey.

By late afternoon the drinking had sapped the energy of the two reprobates, and finally they left Jean Michel alone. The heat and the flies were becoming insufferable, and he could hear Scroggins behind him swearing continuously. Adams and Ives were ahead of Jean Michel as they entered a dense thicket where the trail narrowed. When they rounded a curve, the two were momentarily out of Jean Michel's sight.

Suddenly, he heard one of the men in the front scream, and Ives burst around the corner slamming abruptly into him. He had terror in his eyes, and before Jean Michel could step back, someone snapped the guard’s head back, slitting his throat. Jean Michel was spattered with blood. It was an Abenaki who killed Ives, and he tossed the body to the ground looking at Jean Michel. He saw Darcy’s rosary around the Indians neck.

Jean Michel saw his opportunity, turned and kicked Scoggins in the groin, then when he doubled over he drove his knee up into his face. Within seconds another Abenaki warrior was upon the regular, slitting his throat too.

Panting, Jean Michel faced the brave wearing Darcy's rosary. The Indian took three large strides up to him and cut the leather thong which bound his hands. He gave Jean Michel, Sergeant Adam’s musket and shot pouch.

Searching for some token of gratitude he reached for his most precious possession; the cross and charm from Darcy. He pulled it over his head and held it out to the brave. The Indian looked at the gift then looked into the eyes of Jean Michel. He turned away and began searching the dead bodies instead.

Jean Michel put the chain back around his neck. The Indians were beginning to scalp and he preferred not to watch. Turning to the south, Jean Michel set off toward his home on the Piscataqua. There he would regain his strength and devise a plan to bring Darcy back to him forever. Etienne was right. God was indeed revealing the way.

*
     
*
     
*

The warm weeks of summer dragged on for Darcy at the fort. She attempted to return to her former life, but the memories were too vivid and the pain was too great to forget. It had all been an illusion, she could see that now. She had fallen in love with a man that did not exist. Darcy had seen in Jean Michel exactly what she had wanted to see. She hated herself and her poor judgment, yet continually his words haunted her, "Trust me, you are home now, Darcy."

His voice came to her without warning at any time of the day, during any activity, but mostly at night. It would wake her up, and her eyes would fill with tears. Nathan sensed this preoccupation with Jean Michel, and he lavished affection on her more than ever. He took her to his bed often, in hopes of capturing her attention once more, but she always seemed aloof and disconnected.

Darcy resumed her afternoon visits to Moses Tinker, and he welcomed her back with enthusiasm. Shenanigan would race joyfully by her side, as she made her way to his cabin. Although it was dangerous, Darcy felt safer outside the fort. She would walk the trails and daydream of returning to
Ireland
, or sit for hours listening to Moses tell of adventures from his past.

Moses knew that there was something wrong with her, but he never said a word. He had lost the love of his life too, and he found that the pain and loneliness never lessened. That was something he would never share with Darcy. He made small talk instead.

"Have you met the new family farming the McDermott homestead?"

"Yes, the Wyndom family, and they have four children. They aren't as friendly as the McDermott’s though. They are very religious people, and I believe they think I’m a harlot. I shall try to befriend them one last time, but if they snub me again, I won't return."

"Why do you go back?"

"Oh, I don't know, Moses. I guess that I get lonely for the company of a woman.

The next day Darcy worked at the fort for hours, scraping a deer hide. Her arms grew tired trying to remove the bits of fat from the skin. It was tedious work, and she had to be careful not to slice through to the hide, rendering it useless or at the very least, unattractive.

After completing several other chores, she put some corn pudding into a crock, and set off for Moses' cabin. Darcy whistled for Shenanigan, and they started down the trail.

The woods seemed unusually quiet this evening, and when Darcy looked up in the trees, the birds were not chattering and hopping about. Shenanigan ran off ahead of her, but when she caught up to him, he was standing still, sniffing the air. Darcy’s hands began to perspire. Her musket ready, she walked down the trail and through the crops Moses had planted, scanning for danger.

"Darcy, quickly!" barked Moses, when he caught sight of her from the cabin door.

When she stepped inside, Darcy saw a girl of about sixteen years sitting by the hearth holding a child. The little girl was covered with black soot and she stared at Darcy while she sucked her thumb.

"Who are these children, Moses?"

"They are two of the Wyndom girls. A war party raided their cabin today and killed their father. They don't know what happened to their mother and two brothers."

Darcy looked over at the two petrified youngsters on the bed then back at Moses.

"How is it they are here?"

"A few minutes ago Faith here came here with the little one under her arm. Seems she was out picking berries, and when she went back to the house, she found her father's body and her sister hiding in the beehive oven."

Darcy looked at the little girl. That would explain the ashes and soot covering her skin and clothing. "But no mother or brothers to be found?"

"That's right."

Faith Wyndom stood up and cried, "They may be at the fort! I've got to know. Please take me up there."

Darcy shook her head. "Oh no, it's too dangerous. I can't take you up there. They could be overrunning the fort right now. You're better off with Moses. He'll take you into the hills to a cave where you will be safe."