As did the rest of the inhabitants of the trading post. The falcon persisted in its noise, drawing the attention of everyone, including Mounties and Natives, who gawked as though Nathan and the bird were part of the same traveling carnival.
Nathan wanted to grab the bird and tear it apart. Instead, he made himself stride away. He didn’t know what had disturbed the falcon, but he wasn’t much interested in finding out. If he stayed near the Englishmen any longer, he’d wind up punching them as he had the two drunk trappers earlier, only with less delicacy. He heard the Englishmen murmuring to each other as the bird’s cries died down. With his hearing so sharp, he could have learned what the men were saying, but he didn’t care. They reminded him of some of the elite families on Victoria, touring the schools for Natives and praising the little red children for being so eager to adopt white ways. But when the red children grew up and presumed to take a place in society beside them, then they were less full of praise and more condemning. Let the Natives become carpenters or cannery workers. Respected, affluent citizens? Government officials or attorneys? No.
Nathan had spent his life challenging people like that, but his vehicle was the law. From the inside out, he’d smash apart the edifices of their prejudice, and the victory would be all the sweeter because they’d put the hammer into his hands.
Not now. All he cared about now was rinsing off some of the day’s grime, getting a hot meal, and having a decent night’s sleep. It had been a long day, an even longer journey, and tomorrow it would begin all over again. He’d forget about Astrid Bramfield. She seemed eager to forget him.
As Nathan headed toward the Mounties’ dormitory, a flash in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He turned, thinking he saw a woman, a redheaded woman, skulking close to the wooden wall enclosing the trading post. He saw nothing, and debated whether to investigate. Normally he would have dismissed such a suspicion. After all, anything could exist in the margins of one’s vision, even monsters and magic. But ever since he’d met Astrid Bramfield, there was no denying his senses were sharper. He started in the direction where he thought he’d seen the red-haired woman.
“Mr. Lesperance,” called Corporal Mackenzie, waving to him, “please, come and have supper with us.”
Nathan cast a look over his shoulder, where the woman had possibly been, but then cleared his head of fancies. It didn’t matter if there were passels of redheads haunting the trading post. He was leaving there soon, as soon as possible.
Mounties worked well with Natives. Without Native guides, they all would have been dead on the slow, far march from Winnipeg to the Northwest Territory. Tribes respected the Mounties for curbing the devastating border whiskey trade. So Nathan was welcomed at the Mounties’ table that night, the company consisting of him, Sergeant Williamson, and Corporals Mackenzie and Hastings. They ate a spread of roast elk, potatoes, and biscuits while telling stories of their adventures bringing order to the wild.
“Sounds damned wonderful,” Nathan admitted over his beer. “Getting results through brains and action.” More satisfying, in the short run, than what he tried to accomplish in Victoria.
“It is,” agreed Corporal Mackenzie. “It’s what we all signed on for. Being out in the field, tracking criminals, keeping the peace.” He grinned.
“Everyone saw how you put down Three-Tooth Jim and Gravy Dan,” said Corporal Hastings, a man hardly old enough to shave. “Maybe you should consider joining up. You’d be grand as a Mountie.”
Williamson and Nathan shared a look. The boy was too young and naive to realize that what he spoke of would likely never be accepted by headquarters at Fort Dufferin.
“Thanks, all the same,” Nathan said. “But I’ve got a life waiting for me in Victoria.” A life that seemed, at that moment, too tame. He already chafed against the restraints of society there, and no one, not a soul, knew about Nathan’s late-night restlessness, his compulsion to run. He was always careful.
“Just think about it,” pressed the young corporal. He yelped. “You kicked me, Mackenzie!”
Corporal Mackenzie rolled his eyes, and Sergeant Williamson hurriedly changed the subject. “What do you know about those Englishmen who arrived today, Hastings? The ones with the falcon.”
“The falcon that took an instant dislike to Mr. Lesperance,” Corporal Mackenzie added with a wry smile. Nathan scowled down at his battered enameled tin plate.
Hastings, eager to shine in the eyes of his superior, pulled out a notepad from his pocket. “A scientific expedition, all the way from London,” he read.
“Scientific,” repeated Williamson. “Botany? Zoology?”
Hastings flushed. “He wasn’t specific, sir. I tried to get more details but he gave me a lot of bluster, saying he was a very important man in England and he didn’t have time to waste on”—he cleared his throat and turned redder, matching his jacket—“‘boys in pretend uniforms.’”
All the Mounties grumbled at this.
“But they did hire three mountain men as guides,” Hastings added. “And I heard they’re heading west at first light.”
“Good work, Corporal,” Williamson said, and Hastings beamed. He turned to Nathan. “Are you sure you want to leave tomorrow, Lesperance? It’s jolly exciting around here. Always something going on.”
“I’m sure,” said Nathan, thinking once more of Astrid Bramfield’s silver eyes. A welcome distraction came when something brushed against his leg. He glanced down to see an enormous orange tabby cat twining between his boots. The cat placed its paws on his knee and chirped. Nathan stroked the cat’s head and was rewarded with a series of purrs.
“That’s Calgary,” said Mackenzie. “I named him after the place in Scotland where my pa is from. He isn’t usually this friendly. Just eats and sleeps all day. Terrible mouser.”
“You’ve got a way with animals,” Williamson noted as Calgary tried to climb into Nathan’s lap.
“Except those Brits’ falcon,” Nathan said.
The men continued to share stories until darkness fell completely, and the only light came from their pipes and the lantern on their table. At last, aching with fatigue, Nathan stood, dumping the irate Calgary from his lap, and bid the Mounties good night. Tomorrow would be another long day.
Once outside, Nathan took a deep breath of night air. Most everyone at the trading post was either asleep, passed out, or had since left, so the evening was cold and silent. Hardly any light penetrated the darkness, save for the glinting stars and waning moon. Yet Nathan felt them, just the same, the huge, dark forms of the mountains, pulling on him like a lodestone. He’d struggled against it all evening, and now that he was out of doors, their draw became sharp, insistent. He gritted his teeth against it. Come to us. We await you.
So strong was their pull, Nathan didn’t notice the shadowed forms creeping up behind him. By the time he became aware of them, it was too late. He felt several men leap upon him, binding him, forcing a gag into his mouth. He struggled fiercely, almost dislodging them, but there were too many. A falcon cried. Something exploded behind his eyes and then he was swallowed by nothingness.
Chapter 2
Solitude Shattered
Morning frost turned her lungs brittle, each inhalation a reinforcement that she continued to breathe and live.
There was a time when even that reminder would have been too much. Astrid had hated the fact that, despite everything, her body persevered, pressing on, a machine with no consideration for her heart or soul. Each dawn had proven again and again that she must go on without Michael, regardless of what she wanted.