 
Preface

Like a second layer of skin, the dirt and mud on my face covers my tears, hides my emotions from the bitter wind and pelting rain. George slowly sulks beside me, head down, showing the strain of placing one foot in front of the other. In the distance, faint across the horizon, lies the fort we have been searching. You would think I would be happy with the sight, but every pace aches with the failure of the past.

"George," I quietly whisper, "It looks like we'll be at Fort William within the next couple of hours."

He quietly looks up, but doesn't say anything. Ever since Seven Oaks, he has not been himself. So much death all around him; there was nothing he could do. Some things men should not have to see, let alone live through. He listens to me, still responds slightly to the touch of my fingers on his hand and my lips on his cheek, but he is so distant, and I'm not sure if in time things will go back to the way they were?

The rest of my family are not fairing much better. My brothers now look like walking skeletons. They have not eaten for a couple of days. My youngest brother pushes food away when given to him, and my older brother Liam can't seem to hold anything down. The pemmican may keep for long periods, but you get so sick of it day after day. If things don't change soon, I don't know how they are going to make it.

George uses his musket to support his bad leg. The scar on his shoulder has healed well over time. The bullet only grazed him there and he was wearing a heavy coat. His leg, however, has not fared so well. He has not had enough time to recover from his injury. We left soon after he was wounded in battle, and we have not had time to rest. He doesn't complain, but his limp has become more and more noticeable with each step.

As we draw closer to the fort, people start to look up from their work. We must seem like a strange sight, not your typical North West fur trader with a load of skins. Approaching the main building, a path is made for us. People stare. No one dares interrupt our arrival with signs of greeting. No one knows what to make of this sight, of people who have just travelled from beneath Hell's doormat.

This is the main trading post of the North West Company. It is the gateway to the west and there is activity everywhere. It's almost as grand as York Factory for the HBC. There are soldiers here, fur traders, businessmen dressed in fine clothes, and one man in particular who stands out from among the rest. I have never seen anyone dressed so well.

Sensing our distress, a couple of the company workers gestured for us to follow them outside into a small cabin where we could unload ourselves and rest. Tea was immediately brought which we accepted with as much grace as we could. George spoke to these men briefly. The surprise these strangers felt was clearly obvious. With looks that bordered on disbelief and shock, these company workers took their leave so we could try to sleep off some of the effects of our journey.

A knock on the door pulled me out of troubling dreams. In came that distinguished man I had seen earlier, followed by two soldiers with their muskets at the ready, although from us there was nothing to fear.

"Is it true where you have come from?" he demanded, looking at George with an astonished expression on his face.

Pulling himself to his feet, George looked carefully into this man's eyes, trying to figure out how much he should say. But before he could open his mouth to speak, I got up beside him and placed my hand on his shoulder. "Before you ask anything," I replied, "Who is it is asking the questions?"

"This fort has been taken over by me. Those men who have mistreated you have been arrested. I am Lord Selkirk, and you are the first colonists I have met. So I ask again, is it true you have come from Red River?"

I stared at this man with disbelief. All the hardship, all the pain, everything I have suffered from these past four years... he was the reason for it all. This nobleman with his grand scheme for poor Highlanders was standing in front of me, not just a name used to justify a dangerous course of action. This man killed Isabella McIntyre as she tried to cross the ocean. This man has turned my little brothers into walking corpses. He's taken George's spirit and crushed it in his own vain and stupid attempt to be charitable. And my poor Uncle Willie, who I will never see again: never to hear his laugh or scold for drinking just a bit too much. This man took it all!

I quickly pulled back my hand and struck him across the face as hard as I could. The snapping sound startled everyone. Selkirk fell back a few steps and would have surely fallen if not steadied by the men standing behind him. Sensing I might pounce like a wild animal, George held onto my shoulder while giving me a little squeeze to show he supported my action.

Pulling away from George, I made my way through Selkirk's soldiers and ran out the door. I had new strength, and I started to run. I needed to leave that man, that bastard whose decisions led to so much suffering. After a while I stopped, realizing no one was going to chase me. I wasn't worried about any punishment for what I did to him. He got exactly what he deserved. It's the price for doing business in Canada.
Chapter 1

The pillow is soft on the side of my face. It's warm in our small croft as I lazily turn to my other side. I don't want to get up. The loft I share with my little brother Liam is tiny, with almost no room to sit up without hitting your head, but a night's sleep makes the space cozy and warm. The wind gently whistles its morning song outside, welcoming yet wild across the plain. I could sleep here for hours more. It's cold outside, but soon I'll have to get and start my daily chores.

I hear Papa moving about. It sounds like he's changing into his working clothes. I certainly know what it means. Soon, I'll get the nudge on my shoulder as he stands on the ladder leading to our bed, and hear those words I have memorized by heart...

"Molly, you know it's time to rise. You can't fool me laying there thinking you're asleep. Your brother Liam, well, wild horses can't wake him. You'll have to get him up soon..."

Papa is stoking the last few embers in the fire in the corner of our little house. Soon, the warm feeling under the covers will be replaced with a soft heat from the fire. It'll be safe to get up and not feel the cold slap you in the face. Papa doesn't use much kindling to get the fire started although he should. The logs are not large, and the dampness in them sometimes makes it very difficult for the fire to catch. It bothers him a lot, but he keeps telling us we have to be careful.

We used to have a large pile of wood just outside the croft. Sometimes, the flames danced so high, I would stare at them and see figures moving in swirls of yellow, orange, and red. The heat would move throughout the croft. Liam and I would sit still, and Papa would start up with all of the old stories. Sometimes, it would be a great adventure story with a prince, princess, and a good bit of magic. Liam would squeal with laughter, and Papa knew he had us, that he could say almost anything and we would accept it without question. Mama would sit quietly as always and shake her head. She doesn't always like the nonsense that comes out of Papa's mouth, why fill their heads with all those lies she would say, but even she could not resist Liam's laugh. After all, those stories made her fall in love and marry Papa long ago.

Now, Papa's stories have changed. Magic is replaced with stories of true life heroes, family, hard work and morality. It's a rare treat when we sit close to a roaring fire and hear a tale full of fantasy. Papa's stories have all sorts of history. It's all about our clan, and how strong we are. "You are a Fraser", Papa says, "And your heart is Highland! These things you must never forget. You may not understand now, but I know one day you will understand how important it is you are a Fraser".

I don't get what Papa means, to be a Fraser. When he talks about the family like this, he changes so much. He is so serious and sad, like he has lost one of his greatest possessions. I know Liam does not understand too, but he is still young, only seven years old. Sometimes, when we are out working the fields, Papa will take a break and sit Liam down and talk to him like the way the minister does in church. Liam tries to listen, he tries to understand, but when you're so young, you're more interested in the shapes of clouds than family history...

"Liam, Liam, it's time to get up. I know you can hear me."

"Just a bit more sleep, Molly. Why did you have to wake me just then? I don't want my dream to end."

"What were you dreaming about?"

"I was out by the water near Lochgilphead. I was all by myself, but I wasn't afraid. I looked out into the distance. The fish were dancing in circles and jumping up out of the water to say hello. There were birds flying in the distance, birds I had never seen before. I wanted to fly so I could be with them."

"Molly, get that brother of yours up before I come over there and get him up with a hit to the backside!"

"Yes Papa! Come Liam, hurry up! And for goodness sake, try to keep your voice down to a whisper. Don't disturb Mama from her rest."

We have to stay quiet because Mama is not feeling too well. She can't get upset, what with the baby growing inside. She has already lost two in the last four years, and I know to lose another would be too much. Papa knows it too. For such a big man, he steps so quietly when he's close to her. He takes Liam by the hand and heads outside.

Since Mama is carrying, she stays in bed while the rest of us start the day. With the few things we have in the pantry, it's up to me to get the breakfast ready while Papa and Liam go out to the barn. Usually, Mama would make the tattie scones while I would help make the tea and do the cleaning, but for the last couple of weeks it's been my responsibility to feed everyone.

"Molly, are you okay doing the work this morning? I would help, but I'm so tired. I just need a bit more rest".

"It's alright Mama. Just make sure to get your rest. I've seen you make the tatties so many times. I could do it in my sleep."

"Make sure not to use too much butter Molly. We have to be careful. Mr. Selby has been asking for more and more from your father these last few weeks. The taxes are getting too much."

"Yes Mama, I'll be careful." I don't fully understand what she is talking about, but I have seen Papa and Mr. Selby get into arguments the last few weeks. The last time was right after church. Papa kept his voice down, but the looks of everyone as they passed by ... I wished I could have crawled into a hole. Mr. Selby is not a large man, but he thinks he is a lot better than Papa. I saw Papa clench his fists to hit Mr. Selby right there outside the Lord's house. If Mama didn't quietly lay her hand on his shoulder he would have done it too.

Soon, the croft filled with the smells of breakfast. The tattie scones cooked nicely and are almost ready, the tea is steeping, and Liam and Papa have come back from the barn with milk. Mama is now up, covered from head to foot in her shawl, sitting on the bench trying to prove to us she is awake and healthy. I know different though, but I keep it to myself.

"Papa", I ask, "Why were you and Mr. Selby arguing after church last Sunday?" I shouldn't ask, but I just couldn't help myself.

"It's none of your concern Molly. Come now, let's sit and eat."

"Soon papa. I'm just making sure the tatties are browned on both sides. Have some tea while you wait." I know I shouldn't bother Papa when he's having his breakfast, but sometimes I get thinking and I can't help myself. "Mama said something about you and Mr. Selby arguing over taxes. What does he want more for Papa? Doesn't he know we have only a little for ourselves?"

Papa gave me an angry look. He started to clench his fists just like at the church when he got into that argument, but soon he relaxed. "Well, I guess you're getting older Molly, and you have a right to know what is going on as much as anyone."

I poured Papa another cup of tea and waited. Papa was a man of few words, except when it came to stories, and it sometimes took him a long time to come up with the right thing to say. Mama wrapped herself in a blanket over top of her shawl, and she sat at the end of the bench, close to the small fire. She's not looking well. Papa is probably just as worried as I am. Liam doesn't seem to know anything besides what dreams are in his head and how he can start in on breakfast.

Finally my father broke his silence. "Mr. Selby has given us only a few weeks before we have to move. It's a damn shame, and I intend to fight. The sheep herders are coming, and more money can be made by turning what little land for farming we have into pasture." Papa got up and did an unexpected thing. He saves the bottle of scotch for only special occasions, for only little drinks, and yet here he was uncorking the flask and taking a drink. Drinking right after breakfast was not something I was used to seeing from him. Uncle Willie made it a habit to start the day off the exact same way he finished it, but not Papa.

"Papa", I asked, "What is to become of us? This is our home, it's all Liam and I know. What does Mr. Selby expect the four of us to do? Wander the streets of Argyll without a home?"

"Now, now Molly, don't worry so much. This is our home, and I don't intend to just pack up and leave without a fight. Mr. Selby comes from a good Scottish clan. He's not some Englishman who would simply come in and take what doesn't belong to him. I know he can be reasoned with."

"That fat, little Selby makes me sick," Mama said. All this time, she sat quietly by the fire, and now that she was good and warm, the hot anger within her couldn't be contained. "If that man thinks he is going to touch my family, he does not know what he is in for. I've heard about what happens when the sheep come. Good Scottish families with good history forced to find places to sleep and eat things no decent Christian should be allowed to eat. Yes, I've heard about what happens when they come with their huge flocks. Any of the good land that can be used to farm is ruined so sheep can graze, and the cloth mills in England make all the money. No, John, I don't think Mr. Selby can be reasoned with. This has nothing to do with English or Scottish. It has to do with right and wrong, and I for one will not sit idly by and watch all my children have known be taken away so some rich man in England can squeeze out some extra money at the expense of my home."

"Now, now Fiona, you're worse than Molly with your worrying. I would never let anything happen to this family. Trust me. I'm not through yet trying to come to an agreement to keep us here. You all have my word: no harm will come to this family. As God is my witness, we will not let these sheep ruin what we have."

I look in Papa's eyes, and I wonder if he believes what he says? I know he would do anything to keep us here, to keep the family safe and happy, but Mama and I know better.

"That's enough talk for now Molly. Look at me, having a drink so early in the day. You'd think I was Uncle Willie... It's time you tidy up a little and join your brother outside. We still have our work to do. The crops just don't take care of themselves. Help your mother back into bed so she can rest a little."

Papa got up to go outside, with Liam following after him. I heard Mama sigh to herself and mutter words good Christian women don't say. Yet, with everything we may have to go through and with her condition, I don't think the Lord would mind a couple of bad words. "Mama, let me help you get back into bed for a little while. You really should rest some more."

"You're looking after me when it should be the other way around! I guess a little bit more rest would help me. This last week I have not been myself. Be a good girl and pour me a little more tea before I lie down."

"It's cold. Should I not make you some more, nice and hot?"

"No sweetheart. You don't have to worry about me. Cold tea is just fine. I may be tired Molly, but you need not fret so much about my condition. The worse I feel, the more I know the baby inside is doing fine."

Soon, all is very quiet in our little croft. Mama is resting, and the gentle sound of her breathing makes me hope all will be alright with her, and if she can stay strong, maybe she can stay strong for all of us.

Chapter 2

The day was still early when I went outside after tidying up. Papa and Liam were off in the distance, hunched over, working as hard as always.

I joined up with them, and then we worked quietly for an hour or so. The sun started to move in the sky and the day got a little warmer, yet the dampness from last night still hung over the Highland like a wet cloth. Every once in a while, a cool wind would blow across the plain sending a brief chill up and down my spine. It was at those times I wish I was still in bed.

Liam started to complain like always. "Papa, do I have to do this all day? Can't I go find Blane to play with? He never has to work as hard as I do!"

"Come over here and sit down Liam, you too Molly."

"Yes Papa", Liam and I said almost at the same time.

"You know, the Fraser clan has lived in these parts of Argyll for many years. I don't even know how many generations back we go. We have had our fair share of hardship and difficulties. We have gone through tough times and have made it stronger in the end, and we'll come through this time as well.

"What worse times have we gone through?" I asked.

"Well", Papa continued, "Many years ago there was a battle that raged north of here in Culloden. Ah, you don't want to hear about that. I've already bored you with the story before I'm sure."

"Tell it again," Liam demanded excitedly.

"Well, the year was 1746, so that would make it well over 60 years ago. Many Frasers were at the battle. In fact, your great Uncle Donnan Fraser saw many of his closest friends and clansmen fall to the British as they led the charge with swords blazing in the sunshine."

"So what happened to Uncle Donnan, Papa?" Liam asked excitedly.

"Culloden was a bloody battle. The Scots were outgunned by the English perhaps as much as three to one, but what we lacked in weaponry, we made up for in courage. Donnan, along with many other brave Scots, heard the bagpipes, and knew the only chance they had was to charge against a well-trained line of British red coats and cannon. Not one Fraser held back. With guns sounding off in the distance, they charged not knowing what would happen to them, if they would make it across to the other side in one piece or not. The battle itself did not last more than an hour, and many brave men died heroically on the battlefield. It was a sad day for Scotland ..."

"What were they fighting for Papa?"

"What does any man fight for? The hope to live peacefully as a free man! But there was no such freedom back then. All good Scotsmen heard the call to help get the throne of Scotland back to its rightful heir, Bonnie Prince Charlie. I say all good Scotsmen, yet there were some who decided not to fight for the good side. There were some, like the Campbells of Argyll, who chose to fight alongside the British in order to keep their castles! What does it mean about a man to betray his own people to keep his place to live?"

"What happened to Uncle Donnan, Papa?"

"Your Uncle Donnan was lucky to not get shot, but I wonder if he would have wished for death anyway. All Highlanders who were not killed at Culloden were placed under arrest and forced to rot in jail. Of course, good soldiers should never be put to waste. The British knew how to free up the jails..."

"Your uncle had to make a choice between a sure death in jail, or a slower one as a soldier for the very army he fought against. What an awful choice for a man to have to make between two certain kinds of death. Like all good Scotsman, your great uncle fought for the side of freedom, the side of the Jacobites, and for that choice he was made a prisoner in the British army, and forced to fight their great war against France years later."

"Was that the war fought over the water Papa?" I asked.

"Aye, indeed. Just as bloody a conquest as Culloden in '46..." Just then, we all heard a friendly whistling off in the distance. Looking up, I saw it was Willie approaching as he always does: without a care in the world. I guess that's what all the drinking sometimes does to you. I have seen my Uncle Willie get so angry you would think steam was rising from his head. Yet most of the time, he is happy and smiling, without a worry to speak of. That's why Mama seems to both love and get angry with him at the same time.

"What nonsense are you filling their heads with John? Can't you see how bored they look? Aye, let the children have a rest from your constant chatter and boring stories. It's too bad they're too young to have a little drink."

"It's good to see you too Willie. And remember, if you want to try and teach children something important, why don't you have some of your own? Then you can show them all the drinking games and tricks you want."

Liam, as if coming out of a trance, exclaimed, "I'm not young Uncle Willie." Just last week, Blane's Papa let me try some of his ale. I can drink too."

"Remind me to have a talk with Blane's father about what you are getting up to when you visit," Papa said playfully.

"Leave the poor boy alone," cried Willie. "Drinking beer is the start of a boy turning into a man."

"What utter nonsense. So why have you come for a visit in the middle of the day for? Don't you have any of your own work to do?"

"Are you sad to see me? At least Molly seems happy to see her good old uncle, right sweetie?"

"Hello Uncle!" I really like Uncle Willie. He always seems so confident. Nothing in this world could possibly hurt him. He's the kind of person people want to follow. "So, are you going to help us with a little work, or are you just going to stand there bothering Papa?"

"Ah Molly, you're starting to look like your mother more and more every day. You're just as pretty as she was when she decided to give your Papa some charity and marry the poor bugger. Your wish, Molly, is my command."

It was a good thing I couldn't see myself then. Who knows what natural shade of red I had on my face. Willie grabbed a pitchfork and started to help. I guess our break was over, because soon we were all back to work.

"I still don't know why you've come," said Papa. "It's not like you to come out this way so early on in the day."

"I've heard about your problems with Mr. Selby, and..."

"Oh, so that's it, is it? You've heard about what might happen to us just like many other folk in these parts. Don't you have some of the same problems Willie? Why come and talk to me about it?"

"Just listen for a bit before you get so angry. Of course I'm just as worried as you are. Why do you think I drink so much? Aye, the sheep herds will come, and no amount of praying to the Almighty is going to change the fact you'll have to move off of your farm, away from the only life you've ever known."

I could see that look in Papa's eyes. Bending his head, he took a deep breath and replied, "Why are you telling me things I already know?"

"We have to stick together John. You know it just as well as I do. We can fight what is coming. You're not a landlord with money. It's not Selby who's going to do the work to make sure you leave your house. He won't be getting his hands dirty. You know this."

"Aye, I know full well what's going to happen. I'm not blind to all the bad dealings happening in other parts. I know about families evicted from their homes just outside of Inveraray. People forced to leave with the clothes on their back and a few possessions. And for what? To end up on the streets of Glasgow begging for a few scraps from the table of the same man that forced them from their home!"

"There are factories being built in the city John. You may find some work to provide for Fiona and the children."

"What work are you talking about Willie? You want me to find work in a clothing mill? You can blow that kind of thinking up your arse. Wouldn't that be something, to work in a mill with wool provided from the very same land I was forced to leave? No Willie, I can't do that, I won't do that. We Frasers have farmed this land for generations. It's the only thing I know, and it's the only thing you know too. I could never bring Fiona to the city with a child on the way. She's sick enough as it is inside her own home."

"The way I see it John, you don't have much choice in the matter. You can't stay here, and there is no other place to go in Scotland besides the city. They will come and take over our crofts, but we certainly can't make it easy for them to do it."

"Aye, you might be right, but I don't want to think about it anymore. It's bad enough worrying the kids."

"Alright John, whatever you say. You are the older brother after all. I guess you got the brains, while I got all the looks, right Molly?"

Willie wants me to smile, but I didn't feel like it. Sensing my mood, he left with Papa to work in the barn, leaving Liam and I to finish tending the crops.

It seems strange for Willie would come out in the middle of the day to depress Papa, but he's worried about his home too. Grandpa and grandma are not around to help take care of things, and we're the only family he's got. Mama always says what Uncle Willie needs is a good woman to settle down with, to start a family with. She also says what a family needs in times of trouble is to stay together. That's pretty difficult when you are all by yourself.

Chapter 3

We finished up what little work was left and made our way back to the house for dinner. The sky started to grey a little to the south with large rain clouds ready to burst. The wind started to pick up a little more as well. With the clouds and wind came a dampness that covered the land like a giant wave. Sometimes, after a hard day of work with Papa, I like to stand as straight as possible, close my eyes, and feel the cool breeze swirl around my head. I try to shut out everything: the arguments my parents have, the pain I see my mother in, the silliness of my little brother... the wind can help you forget.

As we entered the croft, we were met with the smell of dinner cooking over the fire. Mother, as tired as she is, would never stop working completely. Although her movements are slow, she is a proud woman. Father might be the head of the household, but she is definitely the courageous heart.

"Ah Fiona, is that mutton broth with kale I smell? You are a marvel in the kitchen. Here we have to save every penny, yet you find a way to make this house smell so wonderful."

"So, it looks like an extra bowl needs to be laid out for another hungry mouth?"

"It's so good to see you too sister," said Willie with a sly grin. "I find it funny how John says the nicest things when he's already married. I mean, yes the place smells great, but after all, the smells from the barn can be just as nice. Why don't you come over here and take a long sniff?"

"I'll come over there young William Fraser, but only to hit you over the head with my wooden spoon!" A silence came upon us all for a moment after this heated exchange, yet it only took a second for Mama, Willie, and Papa to start laughing. Although mother would have liked to know earlier about company coming for dinner, she was more concerned there would not be enough for everyone. Her pride was showing through in her anger. Willie has a special place in her heart.

After a hard day of work, there is nothing better than a nice warm broth with onions, mutton, and kale. Poor Liam finished too fast. He wears hunger like a second skin. When Mama was not looking, I gave him one of the two little pieces of meat I had in my broth. Papa takes his time, making every little mouthful last as long as possible. He's so slow when he eats, as if every bite might be his last.

Once everyone was finished, I got up to clear the dishes. Mama put on the kettle to make some tea, while Papa and Willie pulled out their pipes and tobacco bags. Soon, the smell of dinner was replaced by the smell of pipe smoke.

"Papa," Liam said hopefully, "Today you talked about Uncle Donnan fighting at Culloden. You were going to talk about what happened to him fighting for England, but then Willie came and you stopped. Tell us what happened?"

"I don't think it can hurt to continue the story a little bit before the two of you go up to bed." Papa started to settle into his chair, while Liam got up to get as close as he could.

"You know," Papa started, "It was not as if Donnan wanted to make this his fight. He had no love for the British and what they were doing. But the choice was between rotting in a British prison and fighting for your enemy. Not much of a choice at all really. Although I have no love for the French, we Scottish have more in common with them who speak a completely different language than the British who at every turn continue to take that which does not belong to them..."

"John," Mother said quietly.

"Oh, right. Well, it was not possible for Donnan to hang back, since then he would feel the steel of a British bayonet at his backside, so he had to follow all orders, even though some of the things he was asked to do were terrible."

"What was he asked to do?" said Liam impatiently.

"All that the British commander James Wolfe wanted to do was to break the walls of a far off city called Quebec, the most important city for the French across the ocean. But he was having difficulty getting the job done. From what Donnan described, the city is built like a fortress, high up on a hill. The British were stationed across the river, and they gave the French hell. They broke Quebec's walls, but they could not break the people's spirit."

"Around the middle of the summer of 1759, the General tried to invade the city a little upstream, and he was met with fierce resistance. The invaders failed to take the shore, and many men were slaughtered. I thank God your great uncle was not a part of that first group, for surely he would not have survived. Donnan spent his time with a regiment of Highlanders whose job it was to patrol the south shore of the river."

"The General certainly felt disgrace for the failed attempt to take the north shore, so, to make up for this loss, he ordered all fields, farms, homes along the south shore burned. He brought the fires of Hell to that country. Donnan said Canada was a delightful place, with windmills, watermills, churches, and farmhouses on all sides. The land was not unlike what we have here, but it did not take long for all the land miles up and down the river to burn. Under the command of the butcher Colonel Murray, Donnan was ordered to destroy everything in his path. Thankfully, the people had long since left the area for safer places away from Quebec, but he was ordered to kill any French if he found them hiding along the shore."

"Did Donnan find anyone along the shore?" I asked.

Papa thought long and hard about this question before speaking, and even then it seemed as if he did not want to answer at all. "There are some things we should not talk about here Molly."

"But Papa," I pleaded. "Surely you can tell the story gently. Look at some of the things happening to us now. You have always said Donnan was one of the great Frasers, a true hero of the family. Was he a hero at Quebec?"

"Go on," said Willie. "Molly is right. She needs to know how heroic a man Uncle Donnan is, and how brutal the British can act."

"Well," said Papa, "At times the true mark of the hero is not what he does on the battlefield. It is not about trying to take life, but trying to save life, especially the lives of the innocent. During Wolfe's wasting of the countryside, Donnan was asked to burn all. If he saw any French, he was ordered to kill them if they tried to escape. Normally, villages were empty. No man, woman, or child in their right mind would stay there. And yet there was one child who was not able to leave, a child that stayed behind."

"There was a small chapel about 20 miles up the river or so. Before burning down any building, the men were ordered to go in and search for French. It all seemed clear, and yet for a brief moment, Donnan could hear faint whispers and muffled cries. He was alone in the chapel, and as he investigated further, he found a hidden wall, and behind it, a young French girl no older than four or five. Beside her, on the floor, lay another child, much younger. The child was still, and at first glance, Donnan thought it might be a doll the little girl used to play with, but the smell of death soon met his nose, and he knew that what he stumbled upon was not a simple lost girl, but a scene of true horror and tragedy."

Poor little Liam started to squirm in his seat. This was not the kind of story Papa would normally tell on a quiet night in the croft. Mama looked over with a worried eye, but she kept her mouth close. Papa continued.

"Your Great Uncle had his orders, but how can you follow orders when faced with something so brutal. The young girl was terribly frightened, but he tried to calm her down as best he could. He knew one or two words of French, and this seemed to help only a little. He knew his orders were to sweep through the chapel and then burn it to the ground, but what to do with this little girl? He made a motion for her to get up and come with him which I think she was more than willing to do, but not without the little baby who must have been her brother. No amount of pleading on his part was going to separate this girl from her dead sibling."

"I'm sorry Molly, I'm sorry Liam, but this story doesn't have a happy ending. Your uncle, under the cover of darkness, smuggled the girl out of the chapel and away to a forested area where she could make an escape from the oncoming troops and rain of fire. All of God's creatures deserve a Christian burial, and although your uncle was no minister, he did his best to help the young girl bury her brother before he sent her on her way. When asked by his commanding officer where he had gotten to, Donnan replied he thought he saw movement in the forest and went to investigate. Of the story of the girl, however, he could tell no one about for fear of being shot as a traitor. He used to say he would spend many a drunken night thinking about that girl."

"What do you think happened to her Papa?" asked Liam.

"I'm sure she made it safely back to her people. Courage in this life does not go unrewarded Liam, always remember that. Your uncle did a brave thing. He risked his life to save someone who may have been easily killed if discovered by another. Always remember you have the same blood in your veins too. It may not be the easiest thing to do, but you must be like your Great Uncle Donnan Fraser, and always stand up for what is right!"

Papa got up from his chair and pulled out the bottle of scotch. It would get used quite a bit this evening.

"Children, it's time you made your way up to the loft," Mama said quietly. "It's been a long day, and your father and uncle have some important matters to discuss."

"But Mama," I pleaded.

"There's no amount of begging that will get me to change my mind Molly. Make sure your brother is ready, and then it's time for bed."

Liam and I got ready for bed and made our way up the small ladder. Liam, as always, was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow, but I could not sleep so easily. Although the adults were talking in whispers, it was not too difficult to make out what they were saying...

"... Do you understand what I'm telling you John?" said Willie as quietly as he could. "There's nothing anyone has done so far to stop what's coming; at least nothing yet has stopped those sheep herding bastards. I will not let them take the house we grew up in John, the house the family has lived in for generations. I may not carry a musket, but there are many things I can do with a club and knife."

"Do you hear yourself Willie? You're talking about a fight you can't win, you know that?"

"What do you suggest then brother? Just let them come and give them the keys to the castle?"

"Don't make fun Willie, or you'll get a good swift boot to your behind."

"Alright John, I understand, but you know what has been happening across the countryside. Families are given a short time to gather only the things that can be carried, and then they are sent away with no final place to go. Sure, some men have stood up to the herders, but they have hired thugs to make sure people leave without incident."

"Aye, I've heard it."

"Some stories have them coming in the middle of the night, like a pack of thieves to take whatever they want. John, you need to be ready for anything that might happen."

"As God is my witness, not a man will touch my family. I will fight for this house, this land, but even more important, I will fight for this family. Bad goes the man who decides to push my family out of the way for his own selfish gain." I heard Willie and Papa drink and slam their glasses on the table. I did not hear mother talk the entire time, but I know she is just as angry, and my father's words are also hers. Sleep started to come over me. Before I knew it, I was fast asleep, yet dreams of a beautiful Highland would not visit me this night.

Chapter 4

Oh how I miss the beautiful land, the grass bent sideways by the ceaseless wind. My heart is torn into thousands of pieces. I am a mad Scot, mad for the land that was once my beautiful, dangerous home, a home with cliffs on all sides, with hillsides of mossy green peat sweeping down through seaside mists. There, near the water, lay crescent shapes of dark sand beaches, sometimes hidden by the gray, choppy sea. The never ending bluster of wind, mixed with rain and snow moves across the shoreline at a slant. And the water, forever on the rock faces, burbles through this boggy pasture land...

When I dream, I am reminded of the land we left; the land my father fought for yet could not keep. I don't know what day it is anymore. Time seems to have no meaning when you don't know where you are going. I look over to see Liam, and he makes a sorry sight. His head is bent down in his arms, and I hear him moaning. I put my arm around him for comfort and for warmth, but I really do it to stay connected. Although we have a destination in mind, the city, when we get there and what we'll do remains a mystery.

I sometimes feel strength leaving me. Giving up would be an easy thing to do, but I know I can't. We all depend now on each other, but poor little Liam is only seven and constantly hungry and tired, and Mama... well, the pregnancy is hard on her, and I worry about her most. Her pride and strength seems to be slipping away with every day we are lost without a home.

Papa looks like a wild man. He keeps himself together, yet I know he is close to going crazy. He looks like a man who must do something, but he is angry because he has no idea what it is he is supposed to do.

And here we sit, in a tiny closet in a church far from home, having to rely on the kindness of strangers to help us as we move towards the unknown city, the place Mama said she would never go. The days grow colder, and the nights have a bitter chill to them. The church has a small stove, but without fuel, it's hard to even warm up some water for a cup of tea. Still, I have to hold out some hope, hope that the Lord will not abandon us in our hour of need, hope all will be well with Mama once we get settled, hope Papa will lose the wild look in his eyes, hope that dreams of happiness will come back...

The days blend together into a dense fog, but I think it was only two weeks ago when Uncle Willie came to our croft to warn Papa to be ready. Papa didn't need that warning: he already knew what was coming. The Highland is large, but news travels swiftly, like fast moving wind over grass. Many people were forced from their cottages to make way for the herds. It was only a matter of time before our little piece of land would be taken over too...

The Sunday after Willie's visit, Papa got into a fight with Mr. Selby right outside the stone fence at Kilmun church. The church is such a special place in Argyll. No one causes trouble there, yet Papa was in no mood to care about proper church behaviour.

"Selby, we need to have words," Papa quietly said.

"For goodness sake Fraser, don't you know where you're standing? This is the Lord's Day, not a time for arguments. If you need to speak to me about matters, you know where you can find me. Kindly leave me in peace."

Mr. Selby tried moving past Papa to make his way up the hill, but he was stopped in his tracks by my father, a man twice his size. With teeth clenched, Papa continued to get Mr. Selby's attention. "Sir, although it pains me to call you that, we must speak. I know you do not own the land but manage it for other unseen interests. As such, you then must be the person to speak for those interests. If not you, then who?"

Mr. Selby remained silent. Other people passed by with an ear to what was happening. Mama had a hold of both Liam and I. We know many churchgoers, and as they passed, Mama would make a gesture of greeting, but the look in her eyes also suggested now was not the time to talk. The best thing to do would be to move away from her husband and the property manager.

"Once again Selby, I must ask about these unseen interests, these absentee landlords who care nothing for my hard work. Even a blind man can see what is happening in Argyll. We are being herded up like sheep, just like little sheep, and being replaced by the very same thing." Papa was within inches of Mr. Selby's face, and his voice starting getting louder. Mr. Selby looked around for help, but none was coming to him. The sweat started to pour from his face as Papa continued. "We are like sheep, and just like the Bible story, we are being led to the slaughter. But unlike our Lord, Mr. Selby, who took the suffering given to him by those who wished to see him dead, I will not take such punishment without fighting back. I will speak up, and I will act. Do we understand one another?"

Selby simply stared at Papa for a moment, and then he got the courage to finally speak. "Yes, we understand one another Fraser, but you must know I am but a simple messenger. If it were up to me, things in these parts would remain the same. Honest folk doing honest work is what has built this country, yes it has, and far be it from me to change the natural order of things." Mr. Selby seemed to grow more confident with his words. Unlike papa who did not know how to read, Mr. Selby was an educated man who knew how to choose his words carefully. "Yes Fraser, what is happening in these parts is sad indeed. Absentee landlords with their large interests do not care about the daily life and hardships of good, honest, Highland folk. But don't lose hope. Not all land is being taken by the oncoming herds, not every crofter is being asked to leave and find some other type of livelihood. Perhaps I could put in a good word too..."

"So there we have it," interrupted Papa. "You are going to save me. You are going to go out of your way to save my family. You are a true Christian." Papa spat on the ground disgusted. "In front of the Lord's house, you would try to turn yourself into my family's saviour. I knew you to be shrewd in business Selby, but not a liar as well." Suddenly, Papa struck a blow across Mr. Selby's face that sent him reeling against the stone fence. The force sent Mr. Selby's head arcing backwards. His skull hit the stone wall and he fell in a crumpled heap to the ground.

All was quiet. Liam had his head buried in Mama's side, trying to hide. I stared in disbelief at my father. I've always known him to be a man of peace. Willie has always been the hothead, he would even say so himself, yet my father's actions were incredibly violent. As Mr. Selby tried to get himself up, I could see small drops of blood forming on the stone below where his head lay. He was having a difficult time of it, yet Papa was not done with him.

"You take a message back to your unknown interests Mr. Selby. I will not be driven from my home. My children will not grow up in places where they are strangers. I swear on the life of my yet unborn child, do not push a Scotsman trying to protect his family."

"You know there is nothing you can do," Selby snorted as he desperately tried to pull himself up from the ground. "I tried to be reasonable with you Fraser, tried to tell you I'll put in a good word, but you will receive no help from me."

"I'm not sure if you realized it or not yet, but I don't need your help Selby." Papa stuck Selby across the face once again, sending him back to the ground. I'm sure things might have gone very ill for Mr. Selby, yet Reverend MacRae, the minister of Kilmun, came running down the steps as fast as his old legs could carry him.

"Fraser," the Reverend yelled, "What are you doing on the steps of the Lord's House? Stop at once. Do not strike that man again, or you will be kicked out of this church never to step foot in it again."

"Reverend, this is none of your concern. I'm sorry I'm outside of your church and hope for the Lord's forgiveness, but this man deserves everything coming to him."

"You are talking to a man ordained by the Church of Scotland, Fraser. Do not tell me what a man does and does not deserve. Do not hit him again, unless you are also looking to pick a fight with the town guard." The Reverend went to Mr. Selby's side to help him up from the ground. Mr. Selby looked awful. Welts were starting to appear on his cheeks where he was struck, and there was a steady stream of blood coming from out the back of his head. Reverend MacRae took out a piece of cloth from his pocket to cover the wound. Blood started to cover the cloth as it turned from white to red in a matter of moments.

"Go home John," said the Reverend quietly, "And pray for forgiveness for what you have done here on the holiest day of the week."

"I will pray Reverend, but not for forgiveness. You know what is going on around you. The man who you now help is bringing nothing but pain and suffering to the good people of this land. Yes I will pray, but only for strength to fight against men like the one you now hold."

"Don't take the law into your own hands John."

"I'm afraid, Reverend, things will go bad no matter what I do." Papa turned to leave with the rest of us following behind. Liam still had his head buried in Mama's side, crying uncontrollably, while I continued to stare at my father in disbelief. I did the smart thing and kept my mouth shut. I looked back at Reverend MacRae and Mr. Selby. The final image of the two men was truly sad, for the Reverend was trying to help carry Mr. Selby up the steps, yet with each movement of his legs, Mr. Selby would wobble and fall back down. From the church windows, many curious people were looking, yet no one offered a hand to help.

After the church, it didn't take too long for the expected to happen. Two days later, Willie came to our croft right after breakfast. The news wasn't good...

"John, Fiona," started Willie. "They're coming today. Last night, while having a pint at The Argyll Arms, a couple of strangers came in. It didn't take long for the two of them to start talking. They're a couple of hired thugs, and they're here to make sure the clearances happen without problems."

"So what did you do?" asked Papa.

"I made sure they could hear me as plain as you could hear me right now. I said no man who calls himself a Son of Scotland would ever work for a noble British bastard. Men who take on that kind of work are no better than pigs rolling around in their own filth!"

"I'm sure that got them interested," Mama replied.

"No doubt about it. I cursed them up and down, but I can't repeat what I said here. Those ruffians were not interested in exchanging words though. They wanted to exchange fists. It would have gone badly for them too if they tried to start something in the pub. Hardly anyone likes what is going on and the chance to take a crack at someone foolish enough to get paid by the British is tempting."

"So you didn't fight?" Papa asked.

"Not that I didn't want to, but those men were smart enough to know when they were outnumbered. Soon after the insults, they quickly left."

"Shouldn't you be home protecting your own cottage?" asked Mama.

"Now is not the time to be alone," Willie responded. "Now is the time to stand together, Fraser with Fraser. We may not save the house, but we can certainly give them hell for trying to take it away."

Willie went back outside to the barn to find any tool he could turn into a weapon. He came back armed with a shovel. Mama ordered Liam and I back up to the loft. Under no circumstances were we to make noise. Papa made his way outside to stand beside Willie. He seemed surprisingly calm.

"Molly," whispered Liam, "I can't just stay up here and do nothing. This is not fair. I want to be outside."

"Be quiet Liam. You mind your place. Mama said we had to wait here, and that's exactly what we're going to do."

"But Molly, you can't tell me you like this any better than I do. This is my home, and this is your home too. I don't want to leave. I'd miss Blane and the other boys. I tell you one thing Molly: any strange man tries to get a hold of me, I'll bite him on the hand."

"I'm sure you will." I couldn't help but smile. He may be young, but he is courageous.

Pulling a little at the roof, Liam and I were able to get a small view outside. Slowly coming over the hill I could see the outline of at least eight men. It was hard to tell from such a distance, but it looked like they were carrying sticks in their hands. At least, that's what I hoped they were carrying. Upon closer view, a stick could easily turn into a musket, and that's something an unarmed person can't defend against.

Three of them were in uniform. Two uniforms looked like town guard, but there was one red uniform I had never seen before. Beside him was a man who looked like Mr. Selby but was too fat to be him. His face looked clean, not one that was red and covered in bruises. He had a piece of paper in his hand, and he was the one in charge, the one giving the orders. I could see Willie was pointing at two men and whispering to Papa. They were probably the two men Willie confronted at the pub.

"I wish to speak to the inhabitants of this dwelling," the fat little man said as he waved the papers in his hand in the air.

For a moment, nothing was said. Papa and Willie simply tried to make themselves look bigger than they actually were, yet they were two against eight. It seemed like the silence would last forever, but soon enough, Papa spoke. "And who is it here that comes on my land without being asked? Who is it I'm now talking to?"

"You say this is your land, but nothing could be further from the truth. In my hand, I hold a copy of the deed to this property. The owner of the land you now stand on is Laird Stafford, did you not know? You have simply been renting this land and paying your due to one of his Lordship's many administrators: Mr. Selby. It has also come to my attention that things went very ill for Mr. Selby two days ago at the local chapel. That was ill advised action on your part."

"Mr. Selby had what was coming to him. If not for the Reverend, things may have gone much worse."

"You Highlanders are nothing but savages," snorted the man. "Selby does legal work for his Lordship who holds title over much of this wasteland you call home. I have come as his representative to tell you that you must leave this house never to return. For too long, you crofters have lived large off the charity of his Lordship. Yet the tides are changing, and Laird Stafford needs these lands for others who can pay more than you. Be well advised we only ask once. His Lordship will graciously provide some money for you to travel to the city if you quit this house peaceably. If not, the only thing you will receive is time rotting in a prison cell."

The two town guards made a move towards the house. Before they could get to the door, my uncle jumped on them. He started to punch and kick in as many directions as he could. The two guards, taken by surprise at first, soon recovered and started back at Willie. Papa ran to his side to help, but he was stopped by the sound of a rifle shot. The man in the red uniform began to speak. "Do not go near them. If you do, the next shot will not be directed into the air, but rather at your chest. Restrain this man now." The two thugs Willie insulted last night came up to Papa and started to tie his hands behind his back with rope. He tried to fight back, but there was nothing he could do against two men who had a musket for protection. In a matter of seconds, Papa was restrained and held down to the ground with each man's knee pushing into his back. Suddenly, Mama came running out with a broom held high in the air.

"Let him go now," she demanded. "You will not lay another finger on my husband or so help me I will see you in Hell by the end of this day." Mama took the broom high up in the air with the intention of hitting one of Papa's attackers on the head, but there were too many men, and before she could swing, the end of her broom was held from behind and easily forced from her hand. It was too much for her. Mama started to stagger and then collapse on the ground not ten paces from Papa.

"Fiona, are you well?" shouted Papa from the ground. "Get off me, can't you see my wife is with child." Yet the two men who held him down would not let go.

I know I was told not to move, but I couldn't continue to watch. Willie was getting hurt badly. The two uniformed guards started to use clubs to beat him. He was lying by their feet, yet they would not give up with the attack. Moving down the ladder as fast as possible, I ran outside to where Mama was lying quietly on the ground. "Mama," I pleaded, "Are you hurt?"

Mama was slow to speak. "Oh Molly, I knew you couldn't just stay put like I asked you to. I feel so weak. I can't protect you the way I should. Whatever happens, make sure to protect your brother. Make sure Liam stays safe."

"He's scared Mama," I said. "He talks bravely, but right now he's hiding in the bed just like you asked him to."

"That's good," Mama responded as she tried to get herself up off the ground.

As I was helping Mama to her feet, the two guards had my uncle up, but he could not stand on his own and fell right back down. After a couple of kicks to the ribs, Willie was brought back up to his feet again with the same result. "Leave him," said the redcoat. "We'll pick him up later when we leave. Mr. Robertson, give the order."

"Yes, by all means." Clearing his throat, Mr. Robertson delivered the news. "The lands of this area owned by the much honoured William Stafford, Laird of Argyll, will be forfeited of its inhabitants at once. Failure to leave these lands immediately will be met by swift punishment. Once vacated, any tenant found within five miles of a previously occupied house will be arrested and imprisoned. All members of the household will be given one hour to collect any personal effects that can be carried with them. Yes, I think that about says it all. No need to read through all the details."

"One hour," said the redcoat to Papa as he was pulled up from the ground. "Don't try to do anything as we untie your hands. Look at your brother lying on the ground. Unlike yourself, we are not savages, but if we must, punishment can be handed out swiftly and cruelly."

Papa's hands were untied. He rushed to my side and held on to Mama and me closely. Tears started to well up in his eyes. I believe he would have given up his life right there and then if not for Liam, Mama, and I. He then turned to the redcoat. "What of my brother?" he demanded. "What are you going to do with him?"

"Him? The man who now lies on the ground? He will be taken to town and officially charged with assault. You cannot attack members of the town guard and get away with it."

"Please sir, mercy for my brother."

The redcoat eyed Papa carefully. "Let it not be said I am not a man who does not feel." "If you vacate this house within the one hour given, I may look favourably on the charge laid against your brother."

We were given a short amount of time to gather what we could. Mama was so weak she could do little to help. Poor Liam was struck dumb by everything. He simply sat beside Mama with his head buried in her breast. It was up to Papa and me to gather what we could. But we didn't know where we were going, so how was it possible to know what to bring?

By the time we were finished, we came outside to find Uncle Willie and the two town guardsmen gone. The two men who had earlier held Papa down held torches. We walked by without saying a word. We walked slowly, almost like a walk of the dead, for what were we now but dead to this land. As we said our own goodbyes to the only home I have ever known, I turned around to see smoke and fire coming from the croft. Soon, our little cottage will be nothing but burnt wood and ash, I thought. Didn't Uncle Donnan do the exact same thing in Quebec so long ago?

As I walk slowly behind my parents, I thought of an old bible story told to me by my mother. When God destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah because of the wickedness of its people, there was one woman who escaped: the wife of Abraham's cousin. But she did not want to leave, and when she turned back to see the city she loved, God turned her into a pillar of salt. I know it was a city of sin, but how lucky she was to not live with the pain of her loss. Unfortunately, we were not so lucky.

Chapter 5

The cough comes every now and again; it takes the wind out of me. These many weeks away from my home have left me exhausted and sick. Everyone is suffering. Mama, who will give birth any day, is always tired, and most days she can't come up with the energy to get out of bed. Papa tries the best he can, but he is not used to his new job, and he comes back every night to our one room later and later. Sometimes, he reeks of alcohol. He and Mama quietly fight. Liam seems to be adjusting to this new life a little. He has made friends with some of the boys who live near.

We try our best to adjust to this city, New Lanark, but it's so different from the farm life we left back in Argyll. Food comes from the market instead of the field, and people are everywhere. It's next to impossible to find any time to myself. Back home, when the cool wind started to blow in soft gusts across the land, I would close my eyes and pretend the wind was lifting me up, carrying me to places I could only dream about. But in this place, the wind, when it blows, carries with it the smell of fuel mixed with other odours too awful to describe. There are no flights of fancy here.

Within a week of arriving, I got work at a cotton mill. Mama was angry, but there was not much else I could do. Many kids work there. Along with adults, there are three hundred of us spinning cotton into thread. The work space for each of us is small: we are almost working right on top of another. The noise is loud, and when I leave each day I have a hard time with my ears. No matter how hard I try to stay clean, the work is dirty. Sometimes, I can feel the cotton fluff filling my lungs, and I have a cough I can't shake. The smell of machine oil covers my skin and clothes. No amount of scrubbing can take away the stench.

The man who owns the mill is Robert Owen. I sometimes see him walking, but I don't stare for fear of being hit on the back of my head from one of the female supervisors. I have heard the adults talk about Mr. Owen. They say he is peculiar, with strange ideas about how business should run. He is interested in the health of his workers. One time, the adults stopped working for a few minutes and were told to start dancing. It was the strangest thing to see, but far be it from me to question what goes on in a factory. I thought it was a normal thing to do until I saw all the children laughing. As far as Mr. Owen is concerned, a healthy worker does more, so it's important not to get sick. When I told Papa, he shook his head and laughed himself. He said it was one of the strangest things he had ever heard.

Mr. Owen also thinks education is important. I know a few letters, but I can barely read. For at least thirty minutes near the end of the day, all the children are brought to a tiny room where we go over a lesson, usually from the Bible. It was the first bit of schooling I have ever had outside of what I learned from Mama. I tried to take in as much as I could, but when you work for so many hours, it's difficult to concentrate at the end of the day.

Papa's job is much worse than mine. He works out by the water to bring in kelp. It's dirty work. Every day, he has to walk out far into the salt water, sometimes up to his neck, to cut seaweed, and then he has to drag the kelp back to shore. I didn't understand at first what was so important about kelp, but I learned it's used to help make glass and soap.

Sometimes, Papa does not go out into the water. When they bring the kelp to shore, it has to be burned with straw for up to eight hours. When Papa works the fire his clothes and skin smell terrible. He gets close to the fire, pounding and raking the kelp with a long iron club. When he comes home, he is so tired he can barely speak. If I smell alcohol mixed with that of burnt kelp, I know not to say anything.

Uncle Willie was in jail for a week when he was released. Papa was able to send word about where we were going, so it was not too hard for Willie to find us in our small little room in Blantyre, an area of New Lanark close to the Clyde River. He looked awful. I think he was roughed up while in jail, but Uncle Willie would never say anything about what happened. He simply smiles and tries to act as if nothing has happened to him, or us. He's a brave man for trying to pretend nothing has happened, but I remember full well what those two town guard did to him outside our home.

There are five of us all living in one room, with many other Scottish families all around us. Everyone has a similar story: people evicted from their homes to make way for sheep. Most nights, there is a fire outside, and people gather together to talk proudly about their clan. Usually, some of the men try to sing a song or two, but most nights there is no one willing to help carry the tune. Mostly, the men talk about the future.

"There is no point in staying here," a man named Robert Docherty said one evening. Mr. Docherty had a room very close to ours. His wife, Arwen, is nice and polite, and his son's age is close to Liam's. "Many people are quitting Scotland altogether, making their way to America. The land is good for farming, and there's a hell of a lot of it to go around for hard working, honest folk."

"I've heard some of those stories too," said Papa, "But how can you put your trust in men who say such things? Just because someone says something does not make it true."

"Aye," replied Mr. Docherty. "You may be right. I'm not saying I'm heading out this very minute, but you got to think about where you're living now."

"It's a God awful shame where we are living now," said Willie.

"That's true," said Mr. Docherty. "You don't think things are going to get better here? That all of a sudden, the Lairds will have a change of heart and give us back the cottages and lands that were taken away from us. Nah boys, we have to look after ourselves."

"We all feel the same way about it. They force your family away from the only place they've ever known. They take away what it means to be a man."

"Aye John," Mr. Docherty replied. "There's nothing worse than not being in charge of things. That's why I am going to think long and hard about staying here or not. I want to be in charge of making decisions for my family."

Mr. Docherty and Papa talked a while about their clans. Mr. Docherty comes from a proud tradition of Scots, with men who also fought long ago in Culloden. Unlike great Uncle Donnan, many of Mr. Docherty's relatives died in that battle, leaving many poor women widowed.

It took a couple of months, but we were starting to settle in a little in Blantyre. Mama was getting close to birthing, and many women have been very helpful, especially Mr. Docherty's wife Arwen. She comes to our room every day to see if there is anything she can do. If not, she sits herself down and tells Mama about all the latest gossip. She is a nice lady, and she knows about everybody's business. I think having a woman like Mrs. Docherty around helps Mama a little to forget her pain.

Liam and Mrs. Docherty's son, Angus, sometimes leave for a long time. I'm happy Liam has found a friend, but I worry about some of the games they play. Once, I overheard them pretending to be British, kicking out Highlanders from their home. I could not believe my ears. I went right up to Liam and gave him a good pinch on the arm.

"Hey, what are you doing? That hurt."

"You deserve more," I replied coldly. "The least the two of you could do is play properly. You're just lucky Papa didn't hear you pretending to be a redcoat. He would have given you a good kick in the behind for sure. You too Angus! You can't go on pretending to be someone you should hate. Look at what they did to your family."

I could see tears welling up in Liam's eyes. "We meant nothing by it. We were just playing."

"I know," I said, as I started to soften a little. "Just play a different game. Don't play something that would bring pain and grief to Mama and Papa. Promise?"

"We promise," they both said almost at the same time.

Liam was lucky he did not have to work, at least not yet. There were many children at the mill close to his age, and if Papa wanted it, he could get Liam work.

Many of the younger children who worked at the mill are piecers. It's a difficult job where you walk a lot, maybe twenty miles a day. Sometimes I am asked to do the job. I have to lean over the spinning machines to repair broken threads, and broken threads happened all the time. A piecer has to work fast, and holding on to threads and piecing them back together makes the skin raw and bloody.

Even though we were getting used to the city, Papa and Willie could not get it out of their heads about moving on. It's like Mr. Docherty planted an idea in Papa's mind, and over time it started to grow into a course of action. Many nights, just before sleep, Papa, Mama, and Willie would talk about leaving.

"We can't stay here forever Fiona," Papa said. "Look at what the mill is doing to Molly. I can't bear to see her poor little hands, with the cuts from the threads. She does not deserve to do that kind of work."

"I don't disagree with you John," said Mama. "But what do you think we can do? I'm about to give birth. I can feel it. It's going to happen almost any day. I can hardly move from the bed, and what I need most of all is to get out of here and take some better air, but I just can't find the energy."

"But once you have the baby, you can get your strength back, and then maybe we can start to think about what to do."

"I guess you don't remember what it's like to have a little one, do you John? Do you think we can just put the baby in a sack and carry it to God knows where? America is a long distance. I've heard many people get sick on the crossing. You can be in perfect health when you get on board, and it only takes a few days for foul sickness to take hold. And you expect a baby to go through that?"

"Fiona, we should think about it a little, that's all. I'm not saying we are going to quit Blantyre this very minute and make for America. Ships leave for America all the time. That won't going to change anytime soon."

"I know you are just looking out for us John. And you're right; it can't hurt to think a little about the future. Heaven knows I don't want Liam working at the mill like Molly. Sure, the owner seems to be a decent sort of man, but no amount of nice intentions can take away from how awful the work is."

"Better at the mill than harvesting kelp," Willie said. "I can't get rid of the stink of seaweed, especially when I'm burning it."

"Quit your complaints," Papa said. "The only other job men like us can get in these parts is down in the coal mine. I don't like what we're doing too, but it beats the hell out of working underground."

"Both of you need to hush now and get some sleep," Mama said. "In the next few days, we are all going to need as much strength as we can get."

"You're right Fiona," said Willie. "But I want to say one more thing. I've heard about a meeting tomorrow night at Greyfriars Church. A man is going to talk about what we've been talking about right now. I wasn't sure if I was going to go, but all this talk has made me a little curious. And as you said yourself Fiona, it can't hurt to listen a little."

"No one is stopping you from doing what you want to do Willie," replied Mama.

"What do you think John? Do you want to come and listen too?"

"With the baby being this close and all, I don't think I should be staying away after work. Then again, someone should go with you so you stay out of trouble."

"Come on John. What kind of trouble would I cause at a meeting? What if I promise not to have anything to drink before I go?"

I finally stopped pretending to be asleep. "I'll go," I said. "If anyone can keep Willie behaving, it's me."

Willie started to laugh quietly to himself. "Well there you have it," he said. "I need my niece to take care of me. With the marks I still have on my face, people will start to think you don't like me very much."

Everyone laughed. Mama wasn't sure if I should go with Willie to the meeting, but she certainly didn't say no.

Soon, in our little room, all was quiet, except for the heavy breathing of Papa and Willie. Faintly, I could hear voices from above and below. I soon fell asleep, but as usual in this place, no good dreams would come to me.

Chapter 6

It was late in the afternoon when Willie met me outside the mill. He burned kelp today. His hair was a complete mess, sticking in every direction, and his clothes were dirty and torn. Then again, I didn't look much better myself.

"You ready to go Molly?" Willie asked.

"Yes. Let's get as far away from here as we can." I was tired. I did piecing work today. Walking back and forth between the cotton mules is tough. There was barely any time to catch my breath; the work needs to be done quickly.

"So Molly, what did they teach you today during your class time?"

"It was a story about Jesus," I started. "It was the Sermon on the Mount from the Book of Matthew. He was sitting on a hill where everyone could see him, and he started to tell people about how they should live. Things like you should love your neighbour, and it's important to turn the other cheek if someone does something wrong to you."

Willie started to laugh. "Well," he replied, "I guess Jesus was not Scottish. Turning the other cheek is something I don't do."

We continued to talk about other Bible stories as we walked. There was a large crowd gathered inside once we arrived. Willie found a couple of seats close to the back. We sat down, and I saw Mr. Docherty and his son Angus sitting closer to the front. We probably would have joined them too if there had been any room. As it was, we could barely squeeze into the seats we were able to find.

The meeting started quickly. A small man made his way up to the front. He kept trying to clear his voice to get people's attention, but there was so much noise filling up the little church. Soon enough though, someone gave a loud whistle. That seemed to quiet everybody down.

"I want to thank you all for coming here today," said the man. "My name is Ryan Isbister, and I represent the interests of a very noble man. Some of you may have heard of him already. He has had a very keen interest helping settle people for the last ten years. He is Thomas Douglas, the fifth Earl of Selkirk."

I had never heard of him before, but it seemed there were people in the crowd who knew exactly who he was. Mr. Isbister continued. "The Earl of Selkirk has sent many families to America at his own personal expense. Some would say he was called by God himself to help those less fortunate. He would call himself a humble man, yet a man given a great opportunity to help others, especially the men and women of the Scottish Highlands."

"Some of you may have heard about previous attempts to settle Highlanders in America. It has been ten years since the first group made their way to Prince Edward Island. He took them from a life of sickness, a life where they could not farm, and he gave those brave men and women the chance to start over again."

"So what are you saying to us?" said a man two rows in front of us, "Does Lord Selkirk want to send more Highlanders to the same place?"

"No. His Lordship greatly admires the exploits of Sir Alexander Mackenzie. Mackenzie was the first man to make it all the way to the Pacific Ocean on foot. It was an incredible feat for such a noble Scotsman. He is truly an important man of our times, an explorer of great..."

"Get on with it," someone from across the church yelled out. "We don't have all night to hear you talk about how great all these men are."

I turned to Willie, and I could see he was starting to get a little red in the face. He gets angry so easily. I knew it was a good thing I came along to make sure he didn't start anything. "Molly," he whispered, "I wish to hell these people would shut their mouths and let the man say his peace."

Willie has little patience for people who should simply keep quiet. I reached over to take his hand in mine, hoping to calm him down a little. He looked at me and started to smile. "Why Molly, I do believe you're blushing." It certainly felt like I was.

Mr. Isbister, clearly frustrated by the interruptions, continued. "Some people would like to know about his Lordship's plans. Please leave if you do not have the patience to hear what I have to say!" A silence fell over the crowd again. His rebuke shut the whole crowd up, especially those who felt it was their right to interrupt him.

"As I was saying, Mackenzie has explored vast areas of North America. These areas do not have any settlers. From what he has written, the land is perfect for cultivation. And not just any kind of person can start up a community in this area. It needs the strength and will of men and women from the Highlands."

"Think about your situation for a moment. You have been taken from your homes, by large sheep interests. You now live in the city. There may be some improvement in your life the longer you stay, but you will never get back what you had. Your Highland life in Scotland is over. Things have changed in this land. It is a common tale in other cities like Glasgow and Edinburgh. Good Scottish people dispossessed, starting over. And why should you start over like this, working in the coal mines or burning kelp? Why not take the chance at something greater, a true adventure? You and your family could be great pioneers in a promised land, a land that would remind you of where you once lived."

"Do not take my word alone. Let me introduce a man who has actually been where I am talking about. His name is Colin Robertson, and he comes back from across the ocean with a firsthand account of the land Lord Selkirk wishes to settle. Mr. Robertson was once in the employ of the fur trade, the North-West Company, and now he is an emigration agent for Lord Selkirk. Mr. Robertson..."

Unlike Mr. Isbister who was short and large in the stomach, Colin Robertson was tall and lean. He had long black hair, and his clothes were different. It looked like he was wearing strange animal skins. His shoes were different, made from fur, and they had strange decorations on them. People sat up a little in their seats with heads tilted forward to hear what this man, this explorer and adventurer, had to say.

"Thank you for the warm introduction Mr. Isbister. It is true, my fellow Scotsmen: I have spent many years across the ocean. I have seen many changes come over the land, especially in Upper and Lower Canada. People there, loyalists who refused to join with the Patriots in the United States, have made great lives for themselves. Farming is a noble profession in America. Farms are very large, and abundant harvests allow farmers to make extra money."

"I was once a fur trader and trapper for the North West Company. I have travelled all over Rupert's Land, the land surrounding the Hudson's Bay. For many years, I made a living selling furs, from Fort William all the way to Montreal, yet the fur trade is not as profitable as it once was. With the wars against Napoleon, the demand for fur has gone down. Ships crossing the ocean do not carry many beaver pelts in their cargo holds. The fur trade areas need a new purpose, a purpose Lord Selkirk has seen all too clearly."

I looked around the room to see people's reactions. Many men seemed to nod in agreement.

"Lord Selkirk has bought a controlling share in the Hudson's Bay Company. With his new position, he has obtained a large land grant from the company. The land Lord Selkirk has procured for settlement is four times the size of Scotland herself." People started to buzz in the church when they found out how much land there was.

"Please understand," continued Mr. Robertson, "The decision to become a Selkirk Settler should not be taken lightly. The voyage across the ocean is long and cold. The seas are not calm and quiet as you cross. Once you have made it to Hudson's Bay, you must continue south down the river many miles. Yet, my fellow Scotsmen, what you see when you get to the settlement is a land completely suited to your old way of life on the Highland."

"The settlement area is at the fork of two great rivers: the Red and the Assiniboine. The land surrounding these two mighty rivers has excellent soil and is perfect for growing crops. I have spent a little time in this area, and I speak from firsthand experience. Buffalo sometimes come to drink from these rivers, and the fish are plentiful. Sturgeon, catfish, pike, and whitefish can all be found in the rivers. The whitefish are so great many men can sometimes catch up to thirty fish while they smoke their pipes. As Lord Selkirk's representative, it's my hope some of you will take the chance to travel to this magnificent land and lay down roots."

Mr. Robertson stopped talking. I wondered if he was eyeing anyone in particular. Was there a certain type of person he was looking for, or was the invitation to settle open to anyone who wanted the adventure?

"Excuse me sir." It was Mr. Docherty who was the first person to stand up to ask a question. "I was just wondering about a couple of things. How much is it to travel to this settlement, and what does Lord Selkirk want in return?"

"Those are excellent questions my good man," boomed Mr. Robertson. "As to what Lord Selkirk wants, let me assure you it his intention to have the land put to good use. What better use could there be than the creation of a Scottish community? His Lordship's motives are not selfish in the least. He feels for the plight of the Scottish, and settlement is his way to help his fellow countrymen. As settlers in this new land, you will not be seen as tenants. You are free men. And further, for those men who want to earn extra, employment will be provided from the Hudson's Bay Company. Just think about the opportunities that await you: a free grant of land and possible extra employment. All men will be taken care of."

"As to the first part of your question, Lord Selkirk knows the expense of travelling to the new colony is too large a burden for many men to bear. Any man who joins our cause will be given free passage across the water for his entire family. Food will be provided on the voyage across, and when you finally reach your intended destination, a settlement will be waiting for you to help you get started."

"Excuse me sir," said someone from across the church. "I have heard stories about the people who are already there, the fur traders and natives and others. Stories have been published in the Inverness Journal about what men might expect if they say. According to what is written, nothing but ill will come to people who take up with Lord Selkirk and venture out to Red River. Highlanders will not be welcome there, and those who already inhabit the area will see to it settlers are driven out."

"Ah yes," replied Mr. Robertson, obviously annoyed with the question. "The articles you are talking about are nothing but nonsense and lies. I have read what has been written, and the author who slanders Lord Selkirk's grand idea does not even write his own name. No, he simply goes by the name of Highlander, as if that were enough. I, however, stand before you, ready to look each one of you in the eye, and tell you the truth about Red River. And the truth is simple. It is an adventure not for the weak at heart. The journey will be lengthy, and hardships will be faced along the way. But how many of you already face hardships each and every day? The coal mines, although providing employment, can be a dangerous place to work. The same also goes for those of you who work, and smell, like you spend your days with kelp. Would your life be easier if you stayed here? For some of you, the answer to that question is probably yes, but for others... well, you know this is not the life you want."

"Please think about what I have said here. As a Christian, and a Scotsman, I swear all I have said is undeniably true. Some of you, if you say yes, have the chance to boldly venture forth to a new world that waits. Soon, you will see posted throughout town, places where you can sign up and discuss planning for your voyage with emigration agents. Plans are already in place, and ships will leave Stornoway in a couple of months. Count yourself fortunate if you find yourself one of the lucky ones to have booked passage."

Mr. Robertson left the pulpit at the front of the church and sat down next to Mr. Isbister. Some people had more questions, and they quietly went up to Mr. Robertson who seemed more than willing to answer. My uncle seemed excited. He wanted to get a little closer to this man, this Scotsman who had seen and done so much. As we nudged our way forward through the crowd, we met Mr. Docherty and Angus.

"So Willie," Mr. Docherty started, "What do you think?"

"Very interesting! Mr. Robertson makes a good case. I know how I feel about it. I want to leave here and start over again, but I will not do it without John, Fiona, and the kids. I could not leave poor Molly here."

"There's no way I would let you leave either, least not without me," I replied.

"You're an interesting family. At least that's what my Arwen keeps telling me. To tell you the truth, I want to move on as well, but I have to make sure my wife is up for the adventure."

We all moved closer to the front to listen to Mr. Robertson. At least Willie and Mr. Docherty wanted to listen some more. I was more interested in what he was wearing, especially the fur on his boots. I knew things would be different in Red River.

Chapter 7

After the meeting, Willie and I walked home with Mr. Docherty and Angus. Willie was excited about the idea of becoming a Selkirk settler, but Mr. Docherty seemed a little uncertain.

"It sounds too good," Mr. Docherty said. "If half of what Robertson said is true, then you would be downright mad if you did not take advantage of it."

"It does sound good Robert," my uncle replied. "Just imagine all of that farmland, with no landlord there to take it away. Free men doing free men's work! It sounds like a dream."

"That Isbister though... there's something about him I don't trust, the way he started talking about Mackenzie and Selkirk, like they were the best of friends, or perhaps even brothers. Now I don't know if it's true or not, but people say if there is one person dead set against settlers, it's Alexander Mackenzie. From what I have heard, Mackenzie wants to keep the land exactly the way it is. If settlers come, the fur trade will not do well. With farms and fences, animals will have no place to live."

"So why would that fat little man talk about him so highly?" I asked.

Mr. Docherty started to laugh. "He was fat, wasn't he Molly? I can't say I know for certain why he was so keen to talk about him. I guess it's because he's a famous Son of Scotland. It makes Selkirk's plan seem even greater."

"Well, I don't care much about things that don't concern me," Willie stated. "The way I see it, the only person that matters whether I like this idea or not is me, and of course my family. If this great Mackenzie does not care for Highlanders, he can go rot."

"Strong words," replied Mr. Docherty. "It's more important what we think, because we are the ones who will have to do the work of settling." He turned to his son. "And what about you Angus, what do you think about starting over again? Are you ready for the adventure?"

"Can I get me some of them nice shoes that man was wearing?"

Everyone laughed. I was not the only one who was interested in the strange way Mr. Robertson was dressed.

The wind started to pick up a little, and with it, my concern for Mama and the little one growing inside. With everything that happened today, I forgot she was due almost any time now. If we were back at our croft, I would have spent the entire day with her waiting for the birth. Now we were living around so many people, and there were more than enough women to help. Mr. Docherty's wife was probably with Mama the whole day.

Once we got back, Mrs. Docherty was beside Mama's bed, and she was helping to wipe off the sweat from Mama's forehead. There were other women present, and when they saw us, we were told to wait outside. Mrs. Docherty came outside and told us how things were.

"Molly, your Mama is almost ready to give birth. You need to go clean yourself up a little, and then come back in to help. At a time like this, a woman needs other women close to her, and there's no one closer to a mother than her daughter. Willie, why don't you go with Robert to our room and wait there. That's where John and Liam are. All men do is get in the way."

I made my way to the Docherty's room to clean myself up a little. All I hoped for was a little hot water in a pot by the fire so I could clean my hands and face. When we got there, I saw Papa pacing up and down the floor, clearly worried.

"It's a very special time, isn't it John?" boomed Mr. Docherty excitedly.

"Congratulations John," said Willie. "Just imagine, a third child to call your own. I guess I got to get busy having some of my own."

"Thanks to you both," said Papa, but his voice was clearly nervous. "I just can't stand the waiting. There's nothing worse than wanting to do something but not being able to do anything."

"Sort of reminds me when my farm was taken away," said Mr. Docherty.

"Aye, it does feel the same way. But at least the outcome from this will be grand. A new baby is always such a special thing. I just wish it was all over with though. Poor Fiona has had a tough time carrying."

We all heard a faint scream off in the distance. Mama was going into labour. "Papa, I have to clean up and help."

"Yes Molly, your mother wants you by her side. Be a good little girl and get moving as fast as you can."

I didn't have to be told twice. Luckily, there was a little hot water left in a pot close to the fire that I used to clean up a little. It only took a minute or two to splash some water on my face and clean my hands, but the smell of the mill was still all over me. As I left, I heard Mr. Docherty and Willie attempt to take Papa's mind off the birth by talking about the meeting. I don't think it was working.

As I walked back to our room, I heard a very loud scream. I opened the door and immediately made my way to my mother's side. Taking her hand in mine, I could feel the strain in her body. Her hand, just like the rest of her, was covered in sweat. "Mama, I'm here," I said quietly. "It's going to be alright, just a little more and you'll be finished."

"Oh Molly," Mama whispered, "I knew you would not be long in coming. It hurts...so much, but having you here dulls the pain a little." Once again, Mama screamed. I had no idea how loud she was until I was right beside her.

"Molly," said Mrs. Docherty, "keep taking that cloth to remove the sweat from your mother's forehead. She's burning up, and we need to keep her feeling as comfortable as possible."

"Yes Mrs. Docherty," I dutifully said.

It felt like I was sitting in that little room for hours. I cannot imagine what it must have felt like for my mother. She would appear to relax a little, almost fall asleep even, but then the pain would swell up inside her and come out in a scream that would make anyone run in the other direction. This went on for a long time. I kept holding on to her hand, but sometimes I had to let go because she was squeezing me so hard.

"It's alright to let go," Mrs. Docherty said quietly. "I know your work depends so much on your hands. There's no need to get hurt because your mother is gripping you too hard."

Finally, Mama appeared to be ready to give birth. Once the baby was in position, she pushed as hard as she could. Before long, Mama fell back on the bed more tired than I had ever seen her. A few seconds later, I heard a small cry.

"Oh, thank God," said Mrs. Docherty. "It's a boy, a beautiful baby boy. Oh Molly, you have a little brother. What a wonderful thing!"

I looked into his face, and it reminded me when I was five years old. Liam was born in our small cottage, and with us were the midwife and her young assistant. I was not allowed to stay inside while Mama gave birth. I had to stay with Papa outside until we were given permission to come in. When I saw Liam for the first time, I knew I was going to love him, and also look after him. The same is true for my new baby brother. I felt a little sad for him. He will never know what it was like to live in Argyll, to look out across the land and have it meet a beautiful blue sky. He will never feel the Highland wind on his face, wishing he could fly like the birds. He was born in the city.

"Molly," said Mrs. Docherty quietly, "Go tell your Papa to come. Have him wait outside the door, and I will bring your little brother out."

I went back to where the men were. When I opened the door, I found Liam and Angus fast asleep in the corner bed. Papa was stoking the fire by himself, deep within his own thoughts, while Mr. Docherty and Willie looked like they were making plans together for the future. "Come on Papa," I said. "Come and meet your son."

With tears in his eyes, Papa took me by the hand and led me back to the room where my brother was. He stood quietly by the door as I walked in. The baby had been wrapped tightly in a clean sheet, and Mama was sleeping quietly. She looked much better. "Papa is outside," I said quietly. "Can he come in?"

"Everything is fine," Mrs. Docherty replied. "Your mother is tired, and your new brother is asleep. It has been a hard night for both of them. Tell your father to come in."

When Papa came in, he took his son into his arms and looked at him for a long time. He was lost in thought. Maybe he was thinking about a name? Maybe he was thinking about the future, about what it would be like to raise three children in a place like this? Maybe he was just happy to have this child finally in his arms?

"Oh Molly," Papa started, "Your brother is perfect. Your mother and I have decided on the name Calum. He looks so wonderful, just like you and Liam did when you were both born. Molly, I'm so happy, and yet I feel so sad. No little one should have to be raised in a place like this. A young baby needs open fields and a beautiful sky. Calum, I promise you this will not be your life. Say hello to your little brother Molly."

Papa handed little Calum over to me. I tried to see if there was a family resemblance, but it was too early to tell such things. I wondered for his future, for the future of the whole Fraser family in New Lanark. Maybe Papa was seriously considering a change? Would we would be on that ship, bound for America and a new life? And what would Mama think? Surely it would be difficult to make the trip with a little baby? And yet, in my heart, Papa was right. This is not the place for us, not the place to have a child grow up. Just then, Calum gave out the tiniest of little yawns. He looked so sweet, and I knew at that moment, I would do anything for my little brother.

After holding on to him for a couple of minutes, Mrs. Docherty asked me to give Calum to mother. Mama took him in her arms, and she gave out a little sigh of contentment as the two of them settled down together to sleep. Everything seemed at peace now, but how long was it going to last?

Chapter 8

Off in the distance, I see the ship that is to be our new home for the next two months. Papa and Willie are both excited, but Mama looks worried. She keeps Calum close to her. She holds on to him for dear life. Liam is excited too, but he is also a little nervous. It's my responsibility to look after him now that Mama is so focused on the baby.

We've made our way to the port town Stornoway. We travelled over land and water for the last week to get here in time to depart for Hudson's Bay. The last week has been very difficult, and I don't think it's going to get any easier once we start our journey over the Atlantic Ocean.

The decision to finally leave New Lanark was not easy. Mama pleaded with Papa to stay, at least until Calum was old enough for him to travel safely. She made a good point, but Papa and Willie could not be convinced otherwise. As far as the Fraser men were concerned, this was the one chance we had to make something better of our lives.

At least we're not alone. The Docherty's decided to travel too. Mama has Arwen to talk to, and Liam has his friend Angus to play with. Mr. Docherty, Papa, and Uncle Willie are always talking together about the future. They want to recreate the Highland life in Red River.

Calum slows our pace. Mama cannot walk for too long, and the baby needs to feed and sleep. I worry about how the baby will fare over the ocean. The emigration agent had some serious doubts about bringing a baby on board. Mr. Robertson did not want to fill in the papers allowing us to go. Papa had almost given up hope until another man, Mr. Miles MacDonell, decided we would make an excellent family for settlement.

Mr. MacDonell is the settlement's Governor. He wants families to come to Red River, not just individual settlers. He and Lord Selkirk believe men and women from Scotland and Ireland should come to Red River only for a few years. Once a community has taken root, there will be no need to send more people. He said babies are most welcome.

Once we arrived in Stornoway, we were led to a small room to wait. According to the Governor, three ships will set sail for Hudson's Bay on July 26th, in just two days.

While we waited that first night, Papa told us to stay in our room and to take some rest. He and Willie wanted to see how things were moving along.

"But Papa," I pleaded, "I want to see how things are getting along too."

"I know Molly," Papa replied. "You must stay here to look after your mother and Liam. Willie and I will not be gone too long. If Mrs. Docherty were here, I might have said yes, but they are tired from the travel this week and need some rest for the long trip ahead. Besides, we are new here, and it's getting late. Down by the water is no place for a young girl after dark."

"Yes Papa," I said sullenly.

"We won't be long." Papa and Willie left us to go see how preparations were being made. Off in the corner, Liam was asleep on a stool with his head resting against the wall. Mama also seemed to be resting a little, with the baby nestled tightly to her chest.

"Molly," Mama surprised me that she was actually awake, "Could you please take Calum for a little while? Sometimes my arms just feel so heavy when I hold on to him for too long."

"Yes Mama." I took Calum in my arms. He seemed so peaceful, but I knew it wouldn't last long. Mama has gotten very little sleep ever since his birth. It's bad enough a baby keeps you up all hours, but there has been so much more to worry about these days.

"Molly," Mama asked, "Are you scared about the travel across the water?"

"A little. I hear sometimes storms can rock the ship so much it makes a person awfully sick. The sickness does not go away but stays with you until you make it back on solid ground."

"Where have you been hearing that?"

"I've asked Uncle Willie about it. He seems to know a lot about travel and adventure."

"I don't want your uncle scaring you," Mama said angrily. "The trip is going to be fine for all of us. Remember what we have been through already. Think about when we left our home. This family has been through so much already. Nothing is going to happen to you or your brothers."

That was the first time in a while I heard Mama angry. Usually, she only has the energy to take care of Calum. It's good to hear some of the fight she has inside. But still, how could I help but not be a little afraid? "It sounds like a very long time to get across the ocean. I hope it's not too cold."

"It might be cold Molly, but I don't want you to worry about it. Frasers have a way of making it. Look at your little brother in your arms. Yes, he is too young for such a journey, but I also know he will make it along with the rest of us. You know Molly, some people say a person needs to go to hell to know exactly how strong they are. Well, this family has been to hell and back more times than I can count. Remember what you have been through, and what you can take."

"I don't understand what you mean?"

"It's simple sweetheart. You have strength in you, just like the rest of us. We are all sons and daughters of Scotland, from a clan with a proud and strong history. We have been through many tough times in our history, and we have always fought back. Your great Uncle Donnan did it, your father is doing it, and you have done it too. There will be challenges ahead, but we've already seen the worst of it: we've lost our home. And here we are just as strong as ever."

"And always remember Molly," Mama continued, "strength does not come from men alone. Women are much stronger. We handle the difficulties of the outside world and keep a family together."

"I wish I could be as strong as you are Mama, but sometimes I get scared."

"You are as strong as me. One day, you will know exactly how strong you are. Now let's stop talking for a while. Give Calum back to me and get some rest. Hopefully, your father and uncle have the good sense to be a little quiet when they get back."

Mama took Calum back and closed her eyes. I stared at both of them for a little while. I thought about what she said. Would I show strength when the time came? I thought about it as I drifted off to sleep.

I awoke with a start as Papa and Willie opened the door. It was dark, with only a little candle giving off light in the corner. I heard a low moan from my uncle. He could not stand properly on his two feet. I could faintly see blood running down the side of his cheek from his forehead.

"Oh my God," I exclaimed, "What happened to you?" My voice was so loud it woke up everyone in our little room. Even Calum started to cry.

"Now, now," Papa started, "It looks worse than it actually is. Molly, be a dear and soak a cloth with water for your poor uncle."

Over the cries of Calum, Mama started to yell. "I thought the two of you were just going down to the water for a look? You told me you were not going to be very long: you just wanted to see the ship. And here Willie comes back from a fight. Can this family have a moment's peace?"

"Fiona, everything is alright. Don't worry about Willie. He can take care of himself, and tonight he needed to do it."

With the cloth wet, I went over to Willie and calmly pressed it against a bad cut along the side of his head. He pulled back for a moment because of the pain, but he soon settled down again. "Are you alright Uncle?" I quietly asked.

"I have a wee bit of a headache Molly, but I'll be alright."

"There's something strange going on by the shore," Papa started. "When we left, all we wanted to do was have a look. The voyage is being made with three ships, and we wanted to see the condition of ours. As we got down to the shore, there was a large group of men present. They were passing a bottle around, and they were looking for trouble."

"Of course, we should have turned around, but one of them spotted us and started to swear. Willie went up to the group to tell them to mind their own, that we were not out looking for trouble. When we told them why we were there he got jumped from behind. He pulled the ruffian off, but another got to him with a club to the head that sent him crashing to the ground. Poor bugger! Some sensed they were going far and stopped before he got clubbed again."

"What are they doing down by the docks with clubs?" Mama pleaded.

"They are North West Company men. They are friends of the fur traders and they do not want us to leave on these ships."

"Is it going to be safe for us to board the ship Papa?" I asked.

"I think this business will finish quickly once Selkirk catches wind of it. Willie, how are you feeling?"

"A little like the time I got attacked by them town guard. Damn it I can't take too much more of this punishment."

"I know Will, I know," Papa said soothingly. "You get the worst of it every time. At least you can take it. You know, I've been saving a small bottle of scotch for the ship, but I don't see any harm in having a drink right now."

"Bless you brother," Willie said.

Papa and Willie quietly shared the bottle as the rest of us settled back down to sleep. Calum was still fussy, but Mama fed him and he stopped crying. I fell asleep, with my head resting on the small table. I felt Papa's arms lift me and carry me to where Mama and Calum were lying in bed. Before I finally fell back asleep, I could feel little Liam beside me too. We were close and cramped, but I didn't mind.

The next morning, Papa took Liam and me down to the dock. He was not sure it was safe to bring us there, but I told him we would have to come down here soon anyway, and there was nothing Papa could say to object. If there was any danger, it would probably happen on the day we set sail.

As we got close, I could see the three ships were not all equal in size, or in quality. "Papa," I asked, "Do you know which ship we are sailing on?"

"Mr. Robertson told me the name of our ship is The Edward and Anne. I'm not the best with my letters, but I think the third ship off in the distance is it."

My reading was also not very good, but I could certainly make out the two names Edward and Anne written on the side of the third ship. The first ship we passed was a large, beautiful ship called the Prince of Wales. The second ship, called the Eddystone, was a little smaller, but it too seemed to be a grand vessel. Our ship seemed out of place.

It was a sorry looking craft. She looked much older than the Prince of Wales and the Eddystone, and her sails and ropes were dirty. I didn't want to say anything to Papa, but I didn't want to board that ugly vessel. Could it handle the water? Would we be comfortable? I just didn't know.

"Good morning," boomed a voice behind us. It was Mr. MacDonell. "I see you are looking at these fine vessels. Am I to conclude you will be making the trip tomorrow?"

"Yes Mr. MacDonell sir," said my father. "I beg your pardon, but my name is John Fraser, and these are two of my children, Molly and Liam. I don't know if you recall, but you helped us get our papers in order about a month ago in New Lanark."

"Ah yes, now I remember," replied Mr. MacDonell. "From what I recall, Mr. Robertson was not going to let you join our project because of a little baby. Robertson has been in America too long. He forgets how strong we Scots are, right? Even the small ones are strong."

"Very true, that they are. Might I ask a question of you sir?"

"By all means my good man, go right ahead."

"Just last night," Papa began, "My brother and I came here to see the ships. We were met by some men who did not take too kindly to our presence. We told them we were future settlers, and my brother got clubbed to the head."

"Goodness! Is he alright?"

"Yes. Just a bad cut is all. Do you think these men are going to cause more trouble for us before leaving tomorrow?"

"I don't want you or your children to worry," Mr. MacDonell replied. "These men, probably paid by Mackenzie, are here to cause trouble. Lord Selkirk has brought you here at great expense, and he is not going to let it all go to waste by a pack of curs paid to do the devil's work. Soldiers will be here soon enough to make sure the peace is kept."

"Thank you sir, that's good to know. One more question sir, beg your pardon?"

"Yes, what is it?"

"The ship we are to be on. It does not seem to be as nice as the other two. Is there any chance of changing?"

"No there is not," said Mr. MacDonell, clearly agitated with the question. "The Edward and Anne might look older, but she has a lot of experience on these waters. There is no concern about her sea worthiness. She will be fine for you and your family. Besides, the other two ships are full, and not with settlers. The trading post we are going to needs supplies and men who work the fur trade. That is the main purpose of the two ships accompanying ours, for I too, Mr. Fraser, am also sailing with you on the Edward and Anne."

"I see sir," said Papa. "Thank you for your time."

"Not at all. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow. Now I must be going. There are many last minute details to attend to." Mr. MacDonell left. Liam ran off a little down the pier to get a closer look at the ship, while Papa and I just stood there for a while and thought about the future.

"What do you think Molly?" Papa asked.

"I think everything is going to work out for us. I don't know about travelling on that ship, but if Mr. MacDonell is going to be a passenger, I think it will be alright. We have gone through worse."

"Aye, I suppose we have sweetie."

Papa called out to Liam so we could go back to our room and prepare for tomorrow. I think he just wanted to get away from the water for a little while. As we walked back, I could feel a cool breeze start up and push against my face. I closed my eyes, wishing to be pulled up and away from worry and concern, but I was to have no such luck today.

Chapter 9

Farewell beloved Scotland. No more will I look upon your great land with pride. I will start fresh and create a new Scotland, a new place to call home. It will be a place of rolling hills and fast moving rivers, where people will be free and at peace. My family will live happily with one another, and my youngest brother will grow up not knowing hardship, sorrow and hate. Goodbye sweet Scotland, nothing more than a memory to pass on to generations coming after me...

We woke up on the 26th to a drizzling rain. We made our way down to the dock to depart. Although excited, I was equally saddened about what I was leaving behind. This country is the only thing I have ever known.

As we approached the harbour, I noticed a large crowd of people. These people would be our neighbours for the next six weeks or so. I saw the Docherty's off in the distance, and I started to scan faces to see if there were any girls my age. I looked carefully over everyone, and sadly, I could not see one single girl who I could hope to befriend on the long voyage.

As we started to blend in with the crowd, I heard concerned voices all around. People were upset with the ship. I didn't care too much for it myself, but I thought that if it was good enough for Mr. MacDonell, then who was I to complain? Everything is being paid for, so you can't object about what you're getting. Some people were complaining about money, thinking they should receive wages from Lord Selkirk. With so many people, I concentrated on taking care of Liam.

"You make sure not to let go of my hand," I commanded.

"Yes Molly," Liam replied softly.

Off in the distance, there was a man in uniform standing above everyone, shouting out orders. He was wearing a British uniform, and he was angry. The colour of his face almost matched the colour of his coat.

"Don't you all know we are at war," said the red faced fellow. "Look at where you are going: away from where your country needs you. This is a disgrace; you men are a disgrace. The war with Napoleon goes on, and we need more soldiers."

"I don't want to fight for the British. It's not my war," said an angry voice from the crowd.

Hearing this, the man who was speaking, Captain Mackenzie, turned an even deeper shade of red. "Bloody Highlander scum," he started. "The war might come to you even as you sail away from here. Don't you know French cruisers patrol the water around here? Do you think your ship has any chance of out running a ship from the French navy? Whether you Scots like it or not, the war may come to you a day or two after leaving these waters. And what do you think French soldiers are going to do when they see women and children?"

I got a huge lump in my throat. I started to squeeze Liam's hand so much he complained I was hurting him. What if this Mackenzie is right and we don't even make it a day on the water? All around me, people were speaking anxiously. This captain was convincing men to join the army.

"What the hell are you saying?" The voice behind me was Mr. MacDonell running up to where this British captain was. "You know enough not to scare these people Mackenzie. They have passage aboard these ships, and there's not a damn thing you can say to change it."

The Captain held up his musket high in the air where all could see. Everyone fell silent. At last, the Captain spoke. "MacDonell, you've filled the head of every man, woman, and child here with lies: lies of a bright future in a new settlement in Assiniboia. What do you think awaits these good people upon arrival? Nothing but empty wilderness! MacDonell, you and Lord Selkirk are condemning these people to die a terrible death away from the only home they have ever known. And if, by chance, some of you lot were able to survive, what kind of life do you think you'll have? No, you'll wish you had never left. You'd pray for the time when you could go to work honestly in a coal mine or cotton mill."

"How dare you?" responded Mr. MacDonell. "Good people, let's understand for a moment who it is speaking against this noble project. This Captain Mackenzie is a distant relative of Alexander Mackenzie. It's no wonder he would speak so ill of us. His famous uncle, along with many others, believes the fur trade will suffer as a result of settlement. Rupert's Land, my good Scots, is large enough for all men, settlers and trappers, to exist peacefully and out of each other's way."

"Do not have any fear about our ocean crossing. There is one more ship accompanying our expedition part of the way. A British man-of-war has been detailed to lead the way for one hundred leagues off the coast of England. A French battle cruiser will not try to board our ship as we leave here. Our passage to York Factory will be very safe. This Captain Mackenzie is stirring up your fears. Don't let him do it!"

Mackenzie waited for MacDonell to finish before making a final attempt to persuade us to stay. "Men and women of the Highlands, mark my words carefully. This is your final chance to avoid the biggest mistake of your life. There is nothing that awaits you in the wilderness except hardship, pain, and death. The settlement project of Lord Selkirk is a dream. I will wait for any of you who have the common sense not to go through with this crazy scheme. Men are needed to help fight against Napoleon and his French barbarians. Would it not make better sense to stay and join a sure thing? As a soldier, you will be accommodated. You will not want for anything."

My thoughts turned to great Uncle Donnan and what Papa had said about him while fighting for the British in Quebec. If he were alive today, the last thing he would say was he was accommodated by the British.

Mackenzie barged through the group with his musket still held high. He made an intimidating presence. If it was his intention to scare good folks, he certainly did it. Mr. MacDonell, however, was not finished talking.

"My fellow settlers," MacDonell continued, "Today is a great day indeed. Today, we leave this country behind to create a new Scotland across the ocean. Do not be troubled by those who wish to spread doubt and fear. All preparations have been made, and all citizens will be looked after. Soon, we will begin boarding. Please sit and rest while final preparations are made."

Mr. MacDonell left to work on last minute details. Everyone sat down and started to talk with one another. Mr. Docherty came over to strike up a conversation with Papa and Willie.

"Mackenzie makes a good argument," Mr. Docherty started, "But you can't believe everything he says. He wants to recruit soldiers for the army. The more men he gets to sign up, the more money he makes. Sure, I've heard about the wars in France, but I figure it's got nothing to do with me."

"Aye," Papa replied, "I don't want to go pick a fight with any man who has not picked a fight with me. If they were to board ship and start in on my family, well, I'd kill any man who dared touch anyone I love. But what could they possibly want with us anyway? Sure, the other ships are carrying supplies to the fur trade post, but there certainly is not a lot to take on our ship."

"Unless they forced us by gun point to fight for them, like this Captain Mackenzie almost did," my uncle replied.

"Aye, there is that, but we can't worry about such things. If you start thinking about all the bad things that might happen, you'll just wind up scaring the kids and yourself too. We board ship, and what happens, happens," said my father finally. "We'll worry about things as they come to us."

"Then let's just pray all things that come to us from here on will be good things," replied Willie.

In the middle of the afternoon we were finally allowed to board ship. She had a crew of sixteen, including the captain, mates, and three boys. I asked one of the boys what they usually carried, and he replied the ship was empty except for some basic supplies as she crossed the ocean west. Coming back east to England, she carried all sorts of items like wood and fur. He wished me safe passage since this was the first time the Edward and Anne had people living in its hold.

The hold of the ship was dark and damp. There was a small ladder which led down to the cargo hold. I was frightened to go down because I couldn't see where I was going, but my uncle had already made it down and he encouraged me to continue to the bottom. Once I reached the floor, it took a moment for me to get my balance. I felt a twinge in my stomach, and I started to pray I would not get sick even before we left the dock. It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. Once I was able to see clearly, I noticed a large section where all the beds, or berths, were put together.

We were given two berths, one right on top of the other. We didn't have much room, but at least there were two beds instead of one. The Docherty's were right beside us. The three of them had to squeeze onto a bed no longer than three feet across.

"Well, it's not much," said Mama, "But I guess we'll have to make the best of it. Molly, you don't have to stay down here. I'm going to take a small rest with Calum. You should take Liam up on board to get some air and watch as we leave."

I was about to respond but Papa interrupted. "Let's all get back up to watch the ship sail a while. Fiona, are you sure you don't want to take Calum up?"

"I'm fine here. Besides, I don't want to see us leave. I'm afraid I'll cry like a blubbering fool. No, it's best I stay down here and settle in with the baby."

The sky had cleared a little and the wind started to pick up as we stood looking out. Off in the distance, I could see the red faced captain yelling at a couple of men. New recruits no doubt. Good luck...

"Goodbye," Papa whispered to himself. I gently took his hand in mine. I could feel him shaking a little.

As I stood there and watched the land leave, I started to cry. I did not want Papa to see, so I hid my tears behind my hair. I closed my eyes, and I could feel a gentle spray of water wash on my face. Except for the taste of salt on my lips, I was reminded of a cool Highland morning. It seemed like years ago when I had these kinds of feelings, the type of feelings only free people have. And yet, are we truly free? In Argyll I felt free, even though as a crofter I wasn't. Lord Selkirk has called us free men and women, yet can we truly be free when we depend so much on someone else? As I turned around to go back down to our berth, I quietly wondered how much we would have to pay to truly be free.

Chapter 10

It takes a while to get your sea legs. Sometimes a few days are all that's needed to get used to the sway of the ship. Our captain, Captain Davis, does not seem to mind the movement, and the other mates have no problem when the wind and waves pick up. If I never see another ship again after this, however, I'll be more than happy. I've been told to be patient, the sickness will pass, but it has already been seven days, seven days of torture, and all I can think about, all I dream about, is solid ground.

There is a doctor aboard our ship who has been busy helping the very ill. His name is Dr. Edwards, and he is often in the hold of the ship tending to one sick person or another. And yet, even he sometimes seems taken with sea sickness.

Unlike ourselves, he has a much better place to sleep. He has been given a small cabin on the main deck. I'm sure it's a lot better than what we have in the hold. Mr. MacDonell also has a cabin on deck. He has to bend down to enter his room, and there is enough space inside for a small bed and desk, barely six feet long. At least he is not down here with the rest of us.

It doesn't take too long to get used to the amount of space we have, but the smell is something else entirely. Buckets are used for toileting or vomit. They are dumped overboard two to three times a day, yet the smell still lingers. When I go up on deck to take in the salt air, I can smell the stench on my clothes. Since we could only bring few items with us, the clothes I'm wearing I can't really clean. They are all I've got. Oh, how I sometimes wish for the smells from the cotton mill in New Lanark. The smell of oil was terrible, but nothing could be worse than this.

Mama and Calum are having a difficult time. I try to take the baby when I can so Mama can get some rest, but I am so weak and tired I can't hold him for too long for fear my arms will give out. Even though I feel sick, my poor little baby brother is feeling it much worse. He fusses all the time. Sometimes, Dr. Edwards gives him a little medicine to make him sleep. I think it's alcohol.

The only person who seems to be adjusting to life on the ship is Liam. Often, he is up on deck with his friend Angus watching the men at work. Sometimes, I see Liam actually helping the crew. Of course, most of the time, Liam and Angus are running up and down the deck, pretending to be pirates or soldiers. They don't seem to get in the way of the sailors, and no one seems to mind them playing. It's entertaining to watch.

There is not much else to do on ship but watch them play. When I look out, I see the other ships with us far off in the distance, and after that, not much else but blue water and blue sky. There's so much blue it seems like it could go on forever. I've been told we have had a lucky string of good days with clear skies. The days are cold, the wind is strong, and we have not run into any bad patches of weather.

The British man-of-war that came with us from Stornoway departed back to England about a day ago. There was no more fear a French battle cruiser would try to board our ships this far out. As the battle ship made its turn to go back to England, I felt a little tinge of fear. It had been our security the first week at sea, and now the security was gone. Mr. MacDonell gathered the men together to reassure them, stating we were on schedule to make land at York Factory in a further five weeks.

There was another man on board who also had special accommodations. Father Burke, a Roman Catholic priest, had a small cabin beside Dr. Edwards. He and MacDonell argued all the time. I asked Father Burke about a week into our journey if he liked Mr. MacDonell. He simply laughed, smiled and replied he loved all of God's creatures, even if those creatures were Presbyterian. He then gave me a wink.

After two weeks on the Edward and Anne, things started to settle down. We had come up against only one small storm, but it was nothing the ship could not handle. There were still a few people sick in the hold that did not have the strength to leave their berths, but most passengers were generally healthy and had gotten used to the ship's movements. MacDonell started to drill the men on how to load and fire a musket. I was on deck at the time and Papa told me if I was quiet, I could stay and listen.

"Men," Mr. MacDonell started one late afternoon, "You need to know how to use a musket. This is essential for life in Assiniboia when protection is necessary."

"Protection from what?" my uncle asked.

"Wolves, bears, and other animals will try to take farm animals you may want to raise."

"What about men?" Willie went on to ask.

"I cannot say for certain if there are any men who would think ill of our settlement," replied Mr. MacDonell carefully. "It is true, as we saw when we left Scotland, there are those who oppose us. Yet you must all remember this land we are settling on is Lord Selkirk's legally. We are not like some pack of thieves squatting on land not belonging to us. Protection from animals and hunting are the main reasons why using a musket is essential for frontier life. Yet, if there are those who may oppose what we are trying to do... well, the point of a gun has a way of convincing people of almost anything."

Everyone laughed. It had been a long time since I had seen a smile even on my uncle's face. The bruise from his most recent beating has almost healed, and with the sea sickness almost gone, it's nice to see him returning to his old self. He was the first to volunteer to try and load the musket Mr. MacDonell had brought.

"Now William," Mr. MacDonell started, "Make sure the hammer is set to half cock, like this. Remember you'll be looking down the barrel to load her. We don't want the damn thing to go off if you were to drop it or kick it, now would we. It might do something bad to that face of yours."

"Aye, it would improve it," someone yelled from the back.

"Was that you McIntyre?" my uncle asked. "Just remember who's got this in their hands before you go mouthing off." Everyone started to laugh again. Mr. MacDonell was getting angry.

"Men, please! Can we get back to the task at hand? This is very important." There were no objections as everyone settled down, so Mr. MacDonell continued. "Now, take a charge from your ammunition pouch. You need to tear off the top of the charge with your teeth and keep the musket ball in your mouth. That's right William, very good. Now, take the powder and pour it down the barrel. Next, put in the lead ball and then the wadding."

Mr. MacDonell had everyone's attention. He made loading a musket seem easy, since Willie had no problem doing everything he was told to do. While everyone's eyes were on the musket, I couldn't help notice one of the ship's boys staring at me. I glared at him to stop, but he kept on looking at me, and he started to smile a little. I turned away from him and pretended he was not there.

"Once you have put everything into the barrel, you need to take the ramrod and push it all down into place. Then, take some gunpowder and put it in the flash pan below the trigger. Now you are ready to fire. You simply put the hammer to full cock, aim, and shoot."

Once Willie had finished, he held the musket in the air to show everyone he had correctly loaded the gun. For some reason though, the gun accidentally fired up into the sails.

"Damn it Fraser," Mr. MacDonell screamed. "It's not a toy you're holding in your hands. You could have killed someone." Looking up, I noticed a small tear in the sail where Willie fired. Captain Davis came running out of his cabin, clearly upset.

"What the hell is going on here MacDonell?" the captain screamed. "It's bad enough we need to take so many people with us to York Factory, getting in the way at almost every turn, but now you have to put guns in their hands as well."

"It was an accident," my uncle replied angrily. "No one was hurt."

"No, it's much worse. Look at the sail. One of my crew will have to fix the damage you've caused. We have enough work to do as it is without having to clean up after you. Mark my words well. This is my ship. You're lucky I don't put you in the hold, one deck lower than where you now stay, and lock the door after you."

My uncle's face got very red. He's never one to back down from a fight. He would have hit the captain too if MacDonell had not gotten in the way.

"Listen Davis, this was my idea, so I take full responsibility for the outcome. For where they're going, these men need to know how to carry a gun. If damage has been caused, I'm sure Lord Selkirk will be more than willing to pay for repairs. Speaking of Lord Selkirk, remember who pays your wages, Captain." Mr. MacDonell waited for a moment to let his words sink in. "Do we understand one another?"

Captain Davis took a deep breath. "We understand one another. But no more trouble, especially with guns. If you need to fire, go to the rear of the ship and fire out into the ocean. And that one," Captain Davis pointed directly at my uncle, "Keep him away from me or by God I'll throw him in the brig for the rest of the trip." Captain Davis stormed off back to his cabin. Today's weapons lesson came to a quick end.

Soon, the deck was empty except for Papa, Willie and I. It was nothing more than an accident, but I could see Willie was smouldering. Papa put his hand on Willie's shoulder directing him down to our hold.

"Molly, are you coming with us?" Papa asked.

"In a while," I replied. "I just want to stay on deck and watch the waves."

"We'll be having some dinner soon. Don't stay up here too long. The more we travel, the colder it's becoming, and I don't need you getting sick on us now."

"I'll be along soon Papa."

Once Papa went down into the hold, I had hoped to be alone, but I wasn't. That ship's boy was still staring at me. I didn't need to look in his direction to know he was eyeing me up and down. Turning towards the water, I hoped he would see I was not interested, but that made him even bolder.

"Excuse me Miss," the young boy started. "I couldn't help but notice it was your uncle who fired off that gun?"

"It was a mistake," I replied, still looking in his direction. "Won't you get in trouble if they see you talking to me?" I asked.

"There are not too many people on deck now, so there is nothing to worry about. My name is George, George Cooper."

He waited for me to introduce myself. Not to be impolite, I replied, "Molly Fraser."

"It's a pleasure to meet you Miss. Fraser. It's not often we have women travelling across the ocean. If I have offended you by speaking to you in such a forward and bold manner, I beg your forgiveness."

"My, my," I said. "How does a ship's boy learn such a proper way to speak?"

"I can write a few letters I'll have you know. I may not be very educated, but I do listen to the adults when they talk, especially the Captain. I'm not always going to be working on a ship."

"Where are your parents?"

"I don't know who my father is. I've never even seen his face, and my mother did not speak about him when I was younger. Sad to say, my mother died four years ago from the fever. I was lucky not to come down with it."

When I heard this, I turned around to look George in the eyes. He had beautiful, yet troubled blue eyes, like a person so much older than his actual years. I thought he was around my age, or perhaps even a little older.

"I'm sorry to hear about your mother." I had heard about the fever and how terrible it was. People said a person could be in perfect health in the morning, and dead the same evening: that was how fast the fever spread. Just thinking about it made me shudder.

"So, you said you would not always be working on this ship. Do you have any plans for the future?"

"Actually, I do have a plan. I think about what you and yours are doing, and I wonder if it might not be a good idea for me? Now, I know you are going to a settlement. I'm not sure if I would be one for farming, but I would give anything a try. I have not yet approached Mr. MacDonell, but I may soon ask him if I can stay with your group for the winter at York Factory and then go with you down river to where your land waits. I get excited when I think of the adventure."

"You may not find too many adventures living life as a farmer."

"True, but surely that is not the only option open to young men with ambition. At times on this ship we have brought fur traders back to England. The way they look and the stories they tell... if farming is not for me, then a life in the wild might be a better option."

George and I continued to talk for a while. As the sun started to set and the cold wind started to blow across the deck, I excused myself and made my way back down to the hold. We all usually take our dinner together. It's one of the few times during the day when I can tolerate the smell. As I sat with the others eating my boiled biscuits and soup, I thought about all George Cooper had to say. Besides my family, maybe this voyage would not be as lonely as I thought.

Chapter 11

During the fourth week of our voyage north-west the weather took a turn for the worse. The crew walked around with concerned looks on their faces. Gone were the happy tunes sung to oneself. In exchange were serious looks from sailors who knew they had a difficult time ahead. The sky had lost its usual blueness and appeared dark, dangerous, and ready to unleash a bitter torrent.

Normally, on most days since my first encounter with George, I would exchange a few pleasant words with him. He is always polite, asking about the welfare of my family and especially my baby brother. But on this day, he went about his business and acted as if he didn't know me.

Men who have been at sea for long periods of time know when a bad storm is about to strike.

And did the storm ever strike! In the evening, the wind and the rain picked up fiercely. The heavens opened and let down a rainfall like I have never heard before. Sometimes, back home in Argyll, the rain and hail would come down strong, but I always felt safe in our little croft huddled close to the fire with Mama and Papa. When the noise got too loud, when it felt like the hail was about to break through the roof, I would concentrate on my mother's soothing words of comfort and I knew I had nothing to fear. That comfort did not exist here.

The noise of the hail pounding the deck was deafening, but it still didn't drown out the terrible claps of thunder. Water at first started to drip, and then pour, into the hold, making most bedding and blankets wet and unusable. I could faintly hear men moving above us, and I knew Captain Davis must be up there trying to get the sails down. With the sails down, maybe the ship wouldn't move so violently back and forth.

The movement of the cargo hold was terrible. As the ship moved through the waves, up and down, items were being thrown about and scattered on the floor. As the ship rolled from side to side, pots, pans, and kettles were overturned. No sooner would someone clean up one mess than another one was created in a different section of the hold. Everything was dark, since you could not keep the lanterns lit long enough before they were snuffed out. The complete darkness made things even more fearful since you couldn't see things coming.

"This is going to be a rough night," Papa said to Mama in the darkness.

"It's Calum," said Mama clearly upset. "With the ship moving, it's difficult to hang on to him. I'm afraid I might drop him."

"Molly," Papa commanded, "Stay close to your mother and help her. Willie and I will help as much as we can too. This storm won't last forever. Liam, you have to be brave too, for the sake of your mother and little brother. Trust me, we'll get through it."

Just then, the ship crashed into a wave and pitched so far to the left people started to fall screaming from their berths. I held on to Mama and Calum as tightly as I could as wet blankets started to fall on top of us. I braced myself for something worse, but Papa and Willie made sure we were safe, taking the full impact of anything or anyone falling towards us. From what I could barely hear over the violence of the storm, other people were not as lucky. There were wails of pain and crying throughout the hold.

"Why did I say yes to this mad scheme," cried one person.

"Any moment we'll be swallowed up into the great deep," screamed another.

"We'll be dead before dawn if this continues" bellowed someone else.

"Shut your traps right this instant!" There was no doubt about it. That was the loud voice of Mr. Docherty yelling at some of the others. "A ship can withstand more than this. Yes, we are in a bad situation, but you don't make it any better by saying such things. There are children here who are frightened enough. My little Angus, or Liam Fraser for that matter, does not need to hear the mad words of someone who has difficulty in a storm. This will pass. But to anyone who dares again to say such foolish things, my anger will not pass. Ships face storms at sea; it's a simple fact. Now let's calm down and make sure no one gets a kettle to the head. And by God if I hear any more foolish talk, the kettle you'll get to the head will be from me."

The rough words seemed to calm everyone down. The storm however, was just getting started. I stayed close to Mama with one arm around her shoulder and another placed on Calum's little back. My poor brother was crying uncontrollably. I felt like doing the same. Liam was on the other side of Mama, holding on to her like you would hold on to a piece of wood to stay afloat while in water. Through the darkness, as close as I was to him, I could faintly make out the terror on his face. His eyes were shut tight, and his cheek pressed closely against Mama's breast.

"Don't worry," I whispered rather loudly to Liam in between claps of thunder. "This happens all the time at sea. One of the crewmen told me just two days ago something like this was expected. He said we've been lucky so far. The best advice he gave me is to not fight the movement too much. A ship is going to move, and you have to move with it. Just let me know if you're feeling sick at all."

"I'm too scared to be sick," Liam whimpered. "Can you sing Molly, please?"

I told Liam to come over and sit beside me. I was now huddled between Mama and Liam, but I still carefully had my hand on the back of Calum as he continued to cry and wail. Turing to Liam, I couldn't think of anything to sing, so I made up a little sleepy song about a courageous boy named Liam. He was a young Scot who lived in a time when dragons roamed the Highlands. I had no idea what I was singing, but it seemed to calm my brother down. The storm raged outside, but he was losing himself in my singsong story. I could tell Mama was starting to breathe a little easier too, even though her youngest was far from calm.

The storm raged on for hours. As we sat huddled in the dark, the ship would pitch and roll at a terrible angle. People would scream, thinking at any moment we would be overturned, but then, the ship would right itself, only to do the same thing in the opposite direction. Many people got sick. Through the sounds of the storm, you could feel the sickness as it spread like a foul vapour throughout the entire cabin. I was getting a little ill myself, but I desperately tried to keep myself composed. Throughout the storm, Papa and Willie along with the other men bailed the water out with whatever buckets were available. As the ship moved from side to side, they also desperately tried to keep things from shifting all over the hold.

It was one of the worst nights of my life. Although I could still hear the rain outside on deck, it must have been around the crack of dawn when the storm started to lessen. The fearful wakefulness of the past few hours was slowly disappearing. With the light of day, I started to notice those around me. Everyone was a sorry sight. Papa and Willie were on the floor at the foot of our berth. Their clothes were soaking wet as well as being ripped to shreds. They both look like they had been through the worst battle imaginable. Most others around the hold did not look much better. Through the fog of my own weariness, I noticed the McIntyre's sleeping on their berth. Directly across from our berth along the main pathway, I noticed no movement at all. They seemed calm, almost too calm.

As it started to get lighter, my eyes got heavier. Before I knew it, I had finally fallen asleep on my poor mother's shoulder.

I woke with a start. It took me a second to realize exactly where I was. My little brother's head was buried in my lap, while I was leaning against my poor mother. Looking up, I saw her eyes were closed, and she was using the wooden post of the berth as a pillow. I slowly lifted my head. I carefully looked around the hold to see the same terrible sight I had beheld before I fell asleep. There were some stirrings around the cabin now. Although it was still rather dark, it's always dark down here, I noticed people moving about in an attempt to clean up items that had been thrown about during the storm. You could still hear the rain outside, but it had let up a lot, and the ship's movements were normal. I gave a little prayer of thanks to God we made it through the worst night of this journey.

I sat quietly for what must have been close to an hour. I did not have the heart to move and wake up everyone around me. With my head peacefully leaning against my mother, I closed my eyes, drifted off for a few minutes, and would quickly open them for no other reason than the need to stay awake. It was during one of these small naps I heard a terrible scream come from the same quiet berth across the main path of the hold. It was the painful scream of a man that awoke us all. Mama's eyes opened, and Liam jumped up from my lap.

"What was that?" Liam yelled.

"It was a scream come from the McIntyre's berth," I whispered to my brother. "Now be quiet. I don't know what's going on, but the one thing no one wants right now is for you to walk around asking questions. You stay here. You understand?"

"Yes Molly. I was just curious. I was having a nice dream about home when I woke. I won't be poking my head into other people's business."

Soon, there was a small gathering around the McIntyre's berth. I was careful not to get too close. I knew something terrible had happened through the night. Everyone was silent.

I had seen John McIntyre and Uncle Willie talk often while up on the deck. They were both around the same age, and they both had the same sense of humour. Although they had just met while on ship, it was if the two of them had always been friends. The way the two of them spoke to each other, you were never sure who started and who finished what was said. Isabella McIntyre was a different story though. It seemed like she had never left her berth ever since we came on board. I had only seen her on deck twice, and both times she was huddled so tightly in her blanket you could barely see her face. I never talked to her directly, but you could tell she hated every moment on this ship.

I saw Willie with his arm around John. John McIntyre was crying on my uncle's shoulder as if he was his father. Poor Mr. McIntyre had no one else to turn to. Between the two of them would be no jokes, no making fun of each other, no happiness about making it through the storm. Something tragic had happened: Isabella McIntyre died. During the night, who knows when, she passed from this world to the next. Peacefully I would like to think, but there was no peace during the storm.

Death is a terrible thing to deal with, especially a death so close. I didn't know exactly what it was that took this woman from us, but I know such things can happen on board a ship when people live near each other for so long.

"Good people, I was just informed of the tragic situation of Mrs. McIntyre's death." Mr. MacDonell had just made his way down the ladder to the hold and was looking around, assessing the situation. "How terrible to have such an awful thing happen when we are so close to leaving this ship. The night was terrible, but this news makes the storm seem like an annoyance in comparison. Mr. McIntyre, on behalf of Lord Selkirk, the deepest sympathies go out to you for your unfortunate loss."

There was no reply from Mr. McIntyre, who simply stared up at everyone with a pained expression. Tears continued to form on his cheeks. What could he say? Uncle Willie decided to cut through the silence. "What is to be done now Mr. MacDonell? We can't simply leave poor Isabella down here with the rest of us."

"Quite right young Fraser," Mr. MacDonell replied. "Doctor Edwards and Father Burke need to come down. I'm sorry Mr. McIntyre, but your wife must be moved and prepared for burial at sea. Father Burke will take care of all the arrangements. He is a Catholic priest, and although you may not be Catholic, he of course knows how to conduct a proper funeral at sea."

It did not take long to assemble on deck for a quick funeral service. Once Mr. MacDonell had left, Dr. Edwards came down to the hold and started to make preparations for Isabella's body. Sheets were sewn together with weights placed inside so her body would not float when thrown overboard. There was not any hesitation in Dr. Edwards' movements. It seems as if a death at sea is not only normal, it's expected.

The funeral service conducted by Father Burke was very solemn. He had his Bible open, and he said many things about ashes and dust which seemed strange to me because this is a burial at sea. Father Burke also recited the 23rd Psalm, one of the only passages in the Bible I actually know by heart. Before the bagpipes were played, the captain said a few words about the importance of sea burial. It seemed to me he had done this many times before. It was still raining on deck, but it was only a light rain that felt very cool on my face. The rain helped to wash away the memory of last night.

As the bagpipes started their sad tune, I turned and saw the defeated look of Isabella's husband. What would he do now that his wife was lost to him? Like us, I'm sure it was a difficult decision to come. Did his wife agree it was a good idea, or was she forced into going? I couldn't bear to think what if such a terrible thing happened to one of us. Uncle Willie along with some of the sailors lifted up Isabella for the last time. George Cooper was with them, and he turned to me with a sad look that made my heart melt a little inside. I was standing beside my father, whose hand was in mine. I started to grip his hand tightly, and I could feel the same force in response. As much as this was a very sad occasion, I knew my father was relieved not one of his own was being buried at sea. A lone musket shot was fired over the side of the ship as Isabella McIntyre was dropped overboard to her final resting place at the bottom of the ocean.

And just as quickly as it started, the funeral service of Isabella McIntyre came to a speedy conclusion. After a brief moment of silence, sailors and passengers started to move about and quietly discuss plans for the day. With the worst day behind us, there was a lot of work to do. Sails needed repair, water needed to be bailed, and most importantly, people needed to get their mind on something else besides how close death came knocking for everyone last night. I don't know if it was my imagination, but it seemed Mama was holding little Calum more closely than she usually does. I guess it's important to hold onto those things that connect us to life as tightly as we can.

Chapter 12

The Edward and Anne made land at York Factory on September 24th, almost a full two months from our departure. As I saw York Factory off in the distance, I was overcome with different emotions. Truthfully, any land, even hell itself, would be a welcome change from spending one minute longer on this ship. But where are we? Is this a place where people actually live? The fur trading post looked bleak and lonely, sitting by itself on top of a hill surrounded by wilderness and dark clouds, the only movement to be seen a tiny flag blowing in the breeze.

It's so cold. I'm wrapped up in almost every stitch of clothing I have, and I still feel the chill of the wind seeping through. I huddle close to Liam for warmth, but he is excited and can hardly keep still. All I want is to keep out the cold, and he can think of nothing more than playing with the snow falling on deck. Rarely did we see snow in Scotland, but here we will have to live with it for more than half the year. I look over and see Angus Docherty, and he too looks so happy in the cold, breathing fast like a panting dog. The expression on my mother's face, however, is the exact opposite. Ever since the death of Isabella McIntyre, Mama has become more quiet, more withdrawn. She holds on to Calum desperately. For her, it's about survival, both in body and in spirit. A mother is always closely connected with her children, but she holds on to the baby as if she is holding on to dear life itself.

The water near the actual fort is very shallow, so we had to dock a few miles away at a place called Five Fathom Hole. It did not take too long, however, for a line of small canoes and sloops to appear in the distance. Some of the men in the boats had a different complexion to their skin. I know what happens when you work outside for long periods of time, but this was different. They were dressed strangely too. There was only one other time I saw someone dressed like that: it was when Colin Robertson spoke about Selkirk's grand plan at the church in New Lanark.

Mr. MacDonell appeared on deck, dressed in his best suit. For the last two weeks, after the burial of Isabella McIntyre to be precise, I had not seen Mr. MacDonell on deck. Normally, he could be spotted in talks with the captain, or perhaps reading a book while taking a walk to get some air. If he happened to pass by where I was standing, I would curtsey and offer up a smile to which he gently nodded his head in recognition. Yet after the storm and burial, the walks abruptly ended.

"Fellow colonists," Mr. MacDonell started, "Our long journey across the ocean has finally come to an end. It will be good to plant our feet on solid ground. For the most part, the journey was without incident, and here we are at a place very few people have ever seen."

"Without incident?" I whispered to Mama. "I don't think the death of a fellow passenger can be considered without incident."

"I agree dear, but please hush now so we can hear what we have to do."

"Off in the distance," continued Mr. MacDonell, "Is one of the jewels of the Hudson's Bay Company: York Factory. As you can see, there are boats approaching that will take us from here to the fur trading post. Please make sure you leave none of your personal belongings behind. Once we leave this ship, there will be no coming back."

"I want to thank all of you for your patience as we made our crossing. For some, travel by ship is not easy. And yet, here we are. Word will be sent back to Lord Selkirk about our successful ocean crossing."

Mr. MacDonell quickly rushed off. He certainly has a way of making things sound wonderful. When I look at Papa and Willie, the last word that comes to mind is success. They both look so tired, like at any moment they might simply collapse. This voyage has aged everyone, except for Liam and Angus who still look upon life as some grand adventure now filled with snow. Yet, the person who has suffered the most is Mama. It's one thing to take care of yourself and little children, but a baby is something entirely different.

"Molly," Papa started, "Make sure to keep an eye on your brother. We don't want anything to happen to him now that we have made it so far. Willie and I will make sure all the things we have come with us."

"Yes Papa," I replied rather meekly.

"Is everything alright sweet heart?" Papa asked.

"Yes, just the cold is getting to me. To think it's only September and I can already see the breath as I exhale. What do you think will happen when it gets truly cold in the winter months?"

"It's not worth thinking about right now Molly. The best thing to do is to take it a day at a time. When I wake up every day and I see my family safe and healthy I think I am truly blessed. It does not matter where we are; it's that we are together. This is what I believe. My heart will always belong to Scotland, but I know Scotland is wherever we are. It's inside of us Molly. Hold onto it and don't worry yourself about the future. That's for men like MacDonell to concern themselves with."

"But look what happened to poor Isabella. That could happen to..."

"Now, now Molly. You should not trouble your thoughts with such things. What happened to Mrs. McIntyre was truly tragic, but I had thought from the start she would not have the strength for such a voyage. She is not you, and I won't have you bringing it up." Papa then quietly took my hand in his. "My daughter, you are one of the strongest young lasses I know. It pains my heart to see you growing into a woman while dealing with such things. A girl your age should be learning how to run a family, not how to survive in the freezing cold. Remember Molly, you have the strength of your mother. What happened to Isabella will not happen to you."

For a while, Papa and I stood there quietly. So much was happening all around us, but for a few minutes at least, the two of us were content to simply stay close.

The small canoes and sloops sent from York Factory were tied to the ship, and the men sent out from the fort were making their way on deck. Everyone wore animal fur, and no one seemed to be too bothered by the cold. One man in particular was dressed more finely than the others. It was this man who made his way to Captain Davis and Mr. MacDonell. After a few brief words were exchanged, this man and Mr. MacDonell started to yell at each other while pointing at all of us. Being observed by almost everyone on deck, Mr. MacDonell and Captain Davis escorted the visitor to the Captain's cabin. Then the questions and ideas started to fly.

"This does not look too good," started Uncle Willie. "Perhaps they didn't know we were coming. Maybe they have no room for us."

"Surely to God they would know about our arrival," Mr. Docherty replied. "You don't take on all the expense of sending people over the ocean to not have accommodations prepared for them when they arrive."

"I keep thinking about Mackenzie and what he thought about sending settlers to fur trading country," continued Willie. "Maybe there is no welcome for us here."

"Well they can't send us back." Mr. Docherty was started to lose his patience. "To not be in control of my own fate is the hardest damn thing about everything we're doing. Give me a plot of land and a few tools so I can be my own boss, my own man. But sitting here on this ship, waiting to see what's going to happen after two hard months at sea... I'm not a farm animal waiting to see where I'll be penned up next."

There was a great deal of discussion while we waited. Clearly, everyone wanted to finally be done with the ship. Over the last week, people were getting angry over the smallest things. No one had patience for each other, and a change was definitely necessary.

In ten minutes the three men returned to the main deck. Mr. MacDonell had a sad, almost defeated look, yet his face has carried that expression for the last two weeks. There was a hush on deck as everyone waited to hear the news.

"My dear Scottish and Irish," started the stranger, "It is good to see you all looking healthy. I have made the voyage across the ocean many times, and I am fully aware of the difficulties faced by such a long and tedious journey. My name is William Hemmings Cook, and I am the chief factor at this, the most important fort for the Hudson's Bay Company. I bid you all welcome to Rupert's Land."

"I must confess that your presence here is rather startling. Word had reached my ears about the grant of land given to Lord Selkirk for the purposes of settlement, yet I did not fully expect settlers would come this quickly. Please understand, you have arrived, and we will do what we can to help locate you, but this is a fort for trade, not a place where people can take up residence."

The mood started to get angry, almost hostile. The last thing anyone wanted to hear was they were not welcome. Mr. Cook raised a hand to everyone to let him continue talking. People quieted down, fully aware this man had the power to show mercy, or perhaps worse, dismiss us to our own fate without assistance.

"The journey you still must make is a full seven hundred miles from where you now stand. Feel the cold. As the days shorten and the nights grow longer, the possibility of you making your settlement and preparing for the winter is next to impossible. Perhaps you saw the ice flows in the bay as you made your way to the factory. Your arrival here is very late in the season, and although it is just the beginning of fall, the next part of your journey must be delayed until it can be reasonably accomplished."

Mr. Docherty raised his hand to ask a question, the question everyone wanted to ask. "Mr. Cook, Mr. MacDonell, on behalf of all those present, we thank you for your honesty. It has been a very difficult journey we all willingly undertook. I myself have experienced more pain and hardship I thought humanly possible. And yet, kind sirs, here we are at your mercy. If we cannot continue on to the land that has been promised, then what exactly is to become of us?"

Mr. MacDonell, with his head slightly bent down, waited as Mr. Cook came up with the answer. "My good man," Mr. Cook started, "You will be taken to the factory tonight. Although we do not have proper accommodations for the size of your group, I will order an area in one of our warehouses be cleared so everyone can spend the night as comfortable as possible. I'm sure all of you will enjoy being off ship and on solid ground. Staying in our warehouse, however, is only a temporary solution until other lodgings can be provided. You may stay here for a long period of time, perhaps as long as eight or nine months."

"Eight or nine months?" Mr. Docherty replied. There were murmurs and rumblings throughout the deck. Realizing he was losing his audience, Mr. Cook started to raise the volume of his voice.

"Everyone needs to understand what I am saying. To attempt to make it to your settlement now would be nothing short of suicide. This is not England, where the weather is temperate for the whole year. You are now in Rupert's Land, and you will come to understand what it means to live in such an unforgiving land. Perhaps you feel the chill in the air at the moment. This is a mild day compared to what awaits you." Mr. Cook started to get very angry with us. "You are here at York Factory, and it is my charge to assist where I can. I am not pleased with the prospect of taking care of so many who have not been in this part of the world before, especially women and children. There is no debate over what is to become of you. Your Lord Selkirk may have a controlling interest in the company, but I am in charge here." Mr. Cook hastily departed from the main deck and left the ship.

Much of what Mr. Cook said I found confusing. He wants to help us, but then the next minute it appears he has no interest in giving us the assistance we need. As I struggled with these thoughts, I couldn't help but notice Mr. MacDonell was still standing in the same place when Mr. Cook was speaking. He is our leader, but he looks lost.

"Mr. MacDonell," Mr Docherty said, "What are we now to do?"

Mr. MacDonell shook his head, as if waking from a dream. "Gather your things, all of you. It's time we bid farewell to this ship, the Edward and Anne. I for one will be glad to be rid of her."

That was the signal to leave the ship. It only took a few moments for Papa and Willie to gather the family and the few possessions worth carrying. Our entire lives now consisted of the clothes we wore, and a few tools that could be carried by two able bodied men. Any hope we now had, anything we would need for survival, would depend on the kindness of strangers.

As I made my way down the ladder, I couldn't help feeling a little sad about leaving. No matter how bad the experience was, the ship was still my home for two months. It was strange as we rowed towards the factory to see the ship off in the distance. I forgot exactly how terrible she looked, especially when compared to the two other vessels in our expedition. As we got closer to the factory, the Edward and Anne was but a tiny speck in the distance. I could barely see her, but the memory of two difficult months at sea will stay with me for the rest of my life.

Chapter 13

Everyone is huddled together in our log hut. There are five other dwellings just like ours. Without a window, it's always dark, although there are cracks where a little light and cold air comes in. Anything is better than the tents that were first pitched here, miles away from the trading post up the river.

It's hard to tell the time of day in this wilderness. We have spent over a month on the banks of the Nelson and Hayes rivers, about five miles distance from York Factory. The nights come so quickly, and day hardly has a chance to cast its light before it's dark again. The lights of the night sky are beautiful, filled with colours of blue and green. Yet, the light only adds to the loneliness, to the cold, to the feeling of loss in this northern land. The sky is beautiful, but the land is anything but.

When we first arrived here, on that cool late September day, I remember thinking how odd it was for there to be snow so soon in the season. At the time, it was the coldest day I had ever experienced, so difficult that if my very bones could speak they would scream in pain. How I now wish to have that day return! I have been given lodging, and I am clothed like the people of this country, yet I have not experienced winter like this before, and every day it feels like our log hut is becoming more like a coffin...

The first few days, although difficult, were spent in a warehouse used for storing fur. The scent was something rather odd, a mixture of cedar and dead animal. All seventy-three of us from the hold of the Edward and Anne, Irish and Scottish alike, were packed into this room like pigs entering a pen. The floors were cold, yet at least there was no rocking motion. It was good to be on land, and even though it was not comfortable, the factor did provide some small scraps of fur to help people keep warm.

I found it hard to get any sleep in the warehouse. At times, it felt like I would suffocate if I did not get out. No sooner would I finally doze off than I would hear the stifled cries of a woman, or worse the moans of a man sounding like an animal caught in a trap. Although my nights in the York warehouse were difficult, my mother slumbered peacefully with Calum at her breast. The smell and crowded conditions did not seem to bother her at all.

Uncle Willie, however, did not share the same sense of peace. All through the voyage across the ocean, my uncle, always loud, had been surprisingly quiet. I asked Papa once if anything was the matter. He said Willie did not want to get into trouble. We were all quiet on ship, more concerned with simple survival and our own thoughts, but my uncle has always had an opinion on even the smallest of things, and he was never afraid to speak up. Willie would never let anyone get the better of him. And yet, on ship, hardly a word?

On land, however, it only took a little time for old Willie to come back. Before long, he was arguing with some of the factory workers, even though some of them could not understand him. The few who work here are not used to colonists, let alone one with a terrible Scottish temper. On the second night, the factor gave us some alcohol to celebrate our ocean crossing, and all it did was leave my uncle with a black eye and some dried blood on his shirt.

"What happened to you?" Mama asked Willie when she saw him the next morning after the factor's gift.

"Nothing happened to me," said Willie, with an eye so swollen he could barely open it. With a little smile on his lips, he turned to me and said, "I'm just getting to know the good people here is all. And I thought to myself a good Scottish hello would be just the thing."

Yes, my good uncle was back!

The use of the warehouse as a lodging was only temporary. Although I hated the warehouse, I prayed for the sake of my mother we would not be moved, but like most of my prayers of late, they were not answered. The factor sent all of the colonists miles away up the Nelson River where tents were pitched. I have no doubt the drunken actions of my uncle helped to speed Governor Cook's decision to move us as soon as he possibly could.

Tents in the wilderness! The mere thought of spending many miserable months in tents would be insane to almost anyone. I had heard whispers of how angry Mr. MacDonell was with the factor for moving everyone so quickly to our new home up the river, the Nelson Encampment. This anger was nothing compared to his anger with us though.

Papa and Uncle Willie are good workers, strong and sturdy men from the Highlands. Along with other colonists, they got to work as fast as they could to build cedar huts. And yet, they did not seem to be doing the job expected of them from our leader. Strong Scottish and Irish know how to work, but not in for MacDonell.

"You men are much too slow," cried MacDonell about two weeks into our stay. "For goodness sake, a small pack of natives and half-breeds could get this job done in half the time it would take you. Or do you like the warmth a tent can provide?"

Papa had to calm Willie down. "Now Willie," Papa started one night, "I too don't like the things our leader is saying, but it will do you no good to start in on him. You have to have patience. Let's get these cedar logs built, and not worry much about what MacDonell says or thinks."

"Start in on him? Why does he have to start in on us? We're here already, what do we need him for anyway?" responded Willie in anger.

"Willie, think of the family. You can't go off on every man you have a problem with."

"It's worked in the past, ain't it?"

"It's too different here. We're all alone. And we do need him, even if he thinks he doesn't need us. It's not just a simple matter of build the huts and spend the winter. We have to survive this place, and I don't think it's as easy as you or some of the others might think."

"Come on now Willie," my mother started in. "We've been through so much together, this poor family. We all have reason to be just as angry as you. For the sake of Calum, Liam, and Molly, you have to be careful. Once we get to our new home, things will change, I'm sure of it, but here, we have to listen to what we're told, even if we don't like it."

Mama made a motion to grab Willie's hand. At first, he resisted her touch, but soon enough, she pulled him close to her. Sometimes, I forget my uncle is a grown man who has missed the touch of a woman. Once we settle, maybe he can settle as well. Hopefully Willie will get a chance soon to start a family of his own...

Chapter 14

The cough keeps me from having a peaceful sleep. I try to settle, yet the air is dry, and I sometimes find it difficult to catch my breath. No sooner do I feel calm when another wave of coughing spills out from inside my chest.

We sleep so close to each other, I sometimes wonder if my dreams are my own. There are long periods of time where no one talks with each other. I can hear the breathing, I know Mama and Papa are awake, but the mere ability to speak takes too much effort, too much strength.

"She's so hot," Mama quietly says to Papa as I feel the back of her hand, cool on my forehead. "We'll need to fetch Dr. Edwards here as soon as we can."

"We'll wait till morning, and then I'll make sure he comes over."

The sickness came suddenly. Then again, I haven't felt right in a long time. I forget what it means to be healthy. Although not sick at the moment, Liam is also suffering in this barren wilderness. He has lost the adventurous spirit of his early days at the fort.

Taking the worst of it is my baby brother Calum. Content for a short while at York Factory, I worry if my little brother has the strength for this. Mama and Papa put on a brave face. Mrs. Docherty helps where she can, yet Calum cries most nights. He's small for his six months.

The next morning, Dr. Edwards paid a visit to our cabin. He spoke quietly with Mama for a while, asking questions about sleep and food. Once finished with her, he came and bent over top to take a good look at me.

"Good morning Molly. How are you feeling today?"

"Not much better than yesterday doctor," I responded. "My mouth feels so dry, and I think some of my teeth are coming loose. And I feel so tired all the time. Even with a little sleep I hardly have the strength to raise my head."

"Molly understand what I'm about to tell you. The sickness you have is very common for people who have either travelled across the ocean or had to live on a steady diet of salt provisions. Your body is in pain because of the lack of fruits and vegetables here." Looking at Mama and Papa with concern, Doctor Edwards continued. "If not treated, the scurvy can become very serious, but I want you to know you are in good hands. You are not the first person to be struck with the illness, and you will also not be the last. I am going to have your mother boil some water, and with it she is going to mix a drink that contains crystallized salts of lemon. I want you to drink every last drop and then get some rest. I will come by tomorrow to see how you are doing."

Dr. Edwards gave Mama a small pouch with the lemon crystals inside. He directed her to use half of the package now, and the second half later on in the day after I had the opportunity to rest. Papa helped to lift my head up so I could drink the odd potion. It was one of the strangest things I have ever tasted. The drink made me feel comfortable almost immediately, and within minutes of taking it I started to sleep soundly.

When I awoke, I still felt a little weak, but I was starting to get better. "How are you doing Molly?" asked Liam sitting beside me.

"I feel weak, but I think whatever it was the doctor gave me is working."

"That's good news," Liam quietly squealed. "I've been listening to Papa and Uncle Willie talk, and they say the sickness is starting to spread around the camp. You're the first one here, but in some of the other cabins, Dr. Edwards has had to help sometimes two or three people. And you know what Molly? MacDonell is getting really mean about it."

"I don't understand."

"Mr. MacDonell thinks it's our fault for getting sick."

"How is that even possible?" I asked.

Just then, Mama woke up beside me. "Liam, what have you been saying to your sister?"

"I just wanted to be here when she woke up," Liam quickly responded. "I also started to tell her how MacDonell blames us for getting sick."

"Where did you hear such a thing?" snapped my mother.

"Angus told me he heard it from his father after he was talking to some of the men in one of the other cabins."

"Just as I thought," replied Mama. "Listen Liam, your sister is still very sick. The last thing she needs is to worry about things that are no concern to her. And they are no concern to you as well. Do you understand?"

Poor Liam looked like he was about to cry. I felt like I had to come to his defence. "Mama, I'm feeling much better. Whatever it was Dr. Edwards gave me, it seems to be working. Don't be too cross with Liam. He saw I was awake, and he wanted to find out how I was doing."

"I know Molly," said Mama. "And Liam, I don't want you to think I am angry at you. You just have to be careful about what it is you hear, and what it is you say. Sometimes, before you know it, a small truth can turn into a large lie as it passes from mouth to mouth. And even if what you say about Mr. MacDonell is true, it's not for you or your sister to concern yourself about."

Finished with her rebuke about the evils of gossip, Mama started to boil some water so I could once again drink the sour medicine from Dr. Edwards. Mama seems to get stronger when her children are weaker...

In the morning, although still weak, I could feel strength returning to my limbs. I tried to get up too fast, and had to lie back down almost straight away because of dizziness.

It did not take long for everyone to wake up. Little Calum started with a small cry, and before long both Mrs. Docherty and Mama were up. Water was boiling on the fire, and Calum was greedily nursing at Mama's breast.

"Molly," Mrs. Docherty said seeing I was awake. "How are you feeling today?"

"Much better, I think? I get dizzy when I stand up though."

"It's to be expected darling," Mrs. Docherty replied. "You've had little to eat lately, and your body is trying to recover. You should still rest up a while and not even think about leaving this cabin even if God almighty himself ordered you out."

"Always so dramatic Arwen," my mother said jokingly. "I swear Arwen, I think I would be going out of my right mind if not for the way you see the world."

"Fiona, Molly," whispered Mrs. Docherty. "Remember who I am married to. Robert is very opinionated. Just remember, many of those opinions come from me." With a wink and a smile Mrs. Docherty quietly went back to work getting breakfast ready.

Soon everyone was up and the cabin started to come to life. Dr. Edwards made a return visit to see how I was doing.

"I'm happy to find out you have improved during the night Molly. The lemon powder you drank has things in it you can't get with your diet in this place. I'm going to give your mother another pouch, and I want you to drink it again today. Stay warm and rest as much as you can."

"Thank you so much for helping my daughter," Papa said to Dr. Edwards. "Just a question if I may."

"Yes, John, what is it I can do for you?"

"Well, from what I figure, this sickness, this scurvy is something we all have to worry about."

"Quite right," responded the doctor. "If your diet continues without eating the correct foods, you will end up just as sick as Molly."

"That's my point Doctor. We were all wondering if you had more of this powder to spare? It makes sense if we could get this medicine, than the sickness might not make its way through the rest of us."

"I understand what you are asking for John. You are not the first healthy person to ask for crystallized salts of lemon. Unfortunately, we do not have a lot of it here. Governor Cook did not expect so many settlers, so not many provisions were considered necessary."

"I don't quite understand," interrupted Mr. Docherty who was very interested in this conversation. "If we do not have enough medicine to help us last through the winter, how does Mr. MacDonell, and Lord Selkirk for that matter, expect us to survive?"

"Now, now Robert," replied Dr. Edwards. "There is something that can be done, from what I am told. There is a remedy that can keep all of us safe and healthy through the long winter. It is not my place to talk to you about it, since I also am new to this region and am facing the challenges of living here for the first time. Governor MacDonell knows people are concerned, and he will visit all cabins soon to talk about what can be done."

Uncle Willie angrily interrupted, "I wager you're talking about native tree juice?"

This was news to me. I could see that the Doctor was clearly getting upset. " Willie," the doctor started, "I would hope you could wait to hear from Governor MacDonell directly. He does have a plan, and he will let all of you know it as soon as possible. It's not for me to talk about things I have no knowledge of. I am here to help your niece. Thankfully, from what I can see, she will make a full recovery and be up on her feet in a couple of days. Please, young man, for the sake of everyone's health, quiet your anger until you know for certain what plan is being made. No matter what your feelings may be on the matter, the Governor is entrusted with your overall preservation. He wants to ensure the safety and health of everyone."

Willie looked worried. There are some things a man like Willie can fight, but against the sickness, there is nothing he can do. The disease can affect anyone, old or young, man or woman. We are only in December, with the most difficult months of winter still ahead. I just hope I do not have to suffer from this again.

A couple of days after the doctor's visit, I was starting to feel much better. I was becoming steady on my feet, and the cough was almost gone. It was on the morning of the second day after taking Dr. Edwards' medicine when we were visited in our cabin by Governor MacDonell. This was a first, but not completely unexpected.

"My good settlers," Governor MacDonell started as he entered our hut, "I trust all of you are in good health. I know some of you feel the cold more than others, yet this is a fine Canadian morning. The air is so pure this far north. Although there is little daylight, what we have is truly beautiful."

"You grace us with your presence Governor," said Mr. Docherty. "We were told by Dr. Edwards two days ago you would come to talk about the scurvy."

"Ahh, to the point straight away! I have come to talk about important issues, but not all conversation has to be serious, does it?"

"I beg your pardon sir," my father started, "It's not that we don't respect your gracious and kind words. From the start, you have been an excellent leader, helping us through conditions very few from Scotland have ever seen or even dreamed about. It's just, well sir, there has been great cause for concern the last while, what with people who seem in perfect health being struck down so quickly and so terribly. If not for the kind help of Dr. Edwards, we could have others join poor Isabella McIntyre in the life beyond, may God have mercy on her soul."

"Well then," started the Governor, "I see we are not in the mood this morning for idle talk. To live comfortably, here by the banks of Hudson's Bay, we need to do things that on the surface may appear desperate, but are in keeping with the ways of the people who have always lived here."

"Over two hundred years ago," continued Governor MacDonell, "a group of French explorers led by Jacques Cartier were stranded by the banks of a Canadian river called the St. Lawrence. You see, they were exploring the interior, not unlike Alexander Mackenzie's great explorations, yet their ship was locked in because of the frozen ice. It only took a month for Cartier's men to start feeling the terrible effects of the scurvy. Like some of you, many of his men were bed ridden, their gums swollen and teeth loose. Unfortunately, for at least fifty of his crew, God Almighty saw fit to take them from this earth in a most cruel way."

"It was at the hour of greatest need that the leader of the native group, the Iroquois, took pity on the poor men who were left. The answer to all of their sickness came from a tree the Iroquois called the Annedda, a tree that grows around here in abundance. What will save us from the scurvy is not essence of malt or crystallized lemon. What will save us all, myself included, is a drink made from the Annedda, or Spruce tree. To feel better in this country, simply take needles from the Spruce, like the ones I have here in my hand. My dear Mrs. Fraser, if you could be so kind as to place these in some boiling water over the fire?"

Governor MacDonell spoke with such authority we all paid close attention. After a couple of minutes, the scent of Spruce became strong. "In order to benefit from the full effects of the tea, or Spruce beer if you like, it's important to boil the needles until all you see in your pot is a dark liquid. Now, I know this is strange, but in order to live here for the winter, everyone must drink a cup of this every day. It may not be pleasant, but it saved the rest of Cartier's crew, and it will do the same for us. In just a few moments it will be ready. Are there any here who would be willing to be the first to try it?"

The cabin became incredibly quiet as everyone started to look at each other. It seemed like Governor MacDonell was asking for someone to sacrifice their life, not actually try something that could save their life. Just when I thought no one would volunteer, my mother raised her hand. My father then spoke up.

"Governor, I thank you for the help you have given us here. I know my wife has raised her hand, but I think it best to give this tea from a tree a try."

Lifting the cup Mama poured for him, I could tell Papa was not happy, but he and Mr. Docherty were the two men in charge in our hut, so if it was not one of them it would have been the other. Lifting the cup to his lips, I could see a pained expression on his face, yet it did not bother me to see him in pain. In fact, it was very funny.

"Come on John," laughed Willie. "Someone as big and strong as you is not scared of a little wee drink."

"You be careful brother, because as God is my witness after I finish this I'll make sure you're next." And so, with everyone watching, Papa started to drink the tea. After the first sip, he spit it out.

"Come now John," coaxed Mr. MacDonell. "Like most medicines, they taste terrible yet can work miracles. If you must, plug your nose, close your eyes, and be done with it as quickly as possible." So saying, Papa did exactly what was told, and he drank the rest of the strange potion without a drop spilt. Once finished, the entire cabin started to clap.

"In time you will get used to the taste. Except for the young baby feeding from his mother, you are all ordered to drink this at least once a day. If there are any of you after drinking who still feel the effects of the scurvy, please let Dr. Edwards know right away since there are some other medicines that can also be used to treat the disease. These medicines are to be kept in reserve for only extreme cases of sickness. For all others, the tea from the spruce tree is not only recommended, it's demanded."

Mr. MacDonell left the cabin to a stunned silence. We have taken orders from him before, but this is the first time an order was issued to everyone, man, woman, and child alike. I did not understand why he would have to issue such an order? If it was in the best interest to drink the tea, would it not be done by everyone without question? And if someone were to disobey an order here, in what possible way could they be punished without officers of the law and without a jail?

Chapter 15

"Molly, listen carefully," whispered mother. "The men are going wild in the head. The alcohol is making them angry. That Governor Cook and his gift of liquor! Some gift indeed. I want you to take your brother and Angus and sit quietly in the corner away from the door. Take Calum too, and try to keep him quiet. Arwen and I will make sure it's only the men of this cabin who come in here."

It was my job to take care of the little ones while the adults celebrated the coming of the New Year with a gift of alcohol from Governor Cook. Celebrations during the night of the New Year started out well enough. Everyone was happy the sickness had left the camp, even though many people still complained about the taste of the native medicine. Governor MacDonell, Doctor Edwards, and Father Burke had left the encampment to spend some time at the Fort. Mama said they had to leave to start planning for our departure, but I believe they simply needed a break from the encampment.

People were toasting each other's health, which is typical when men start drinking, but it doesn't take too long for these same polite men to turn violent. If you are men of the same clan, even the same area of Scotland, you can sometimes settle your differences with a few fists and a song. But here, with Scottish and Irish drinking together, with no threat other than the cold and loneliness, arguments can turn nasty.

A knock came suddenly. It was Papa. He was in terrible shape. He had a limp, and his face was swollen. His fingers were pinching his nose, where it looked like a steady stream of blood was flowing. Liam and Angus couldn't help but stare at him, and I told them to look away.

"Are you alright John?" asked Mama whose voice was louder than I have heard in a long time. She went to find an old cloth, sat Papa down, and was wiping the blood away from his face. "John, can you talk? I asked if you were alright?"

"Bloody Irish," Papa started to mutter. "Damn fools wreck a good party with their nonsense about Scottish clans. Never before have I heard such cock and bull being said about Frasers. No doubt some of them wanted to pick a fight with Willie. Before I knew it, I had a chair to the head and I was lying dazed on the ground."

"Where are Willie and my husband?" Mrs. Docherty asked.

"As far as I knew, they were right behind me. Before I had my balance, I took a punch to the face that put me down to the ground again."

"God have mercy," cried Mama. "What devilry is this alcohol? A gift? I spit on this gift when it makes sane and reasonable men lose their senses."

"It's one thing to have a couple of glasses of whisky," Papa said, "But Governor Cook sent a couple of cases, more than enough for a month, let alone for a single night to celebrate the New Year."

Mrs. Docherty looked hysterical. With so many drunken men in the encampment, the last place you would want to be is outside. She was very concerned about her husband. But with the wild state of many of the men, she could not take the chance of leaving the little safety we had here.

I had to come to her assistance. I knew it was my job to stay inside the cabin to watch over the boys, but I had to go out to see if I could help my uncle and Mr. Docherty. With as much courage as I could muster, I quickly passed little Calum to Liam, and before I could even stop to think about how foolish I was, I made a dash for the door.

"Molly," cried Mama, "What on earth are you doing? Come back here."

I knew Mama was right, but I had to help Willie if I could. I know how angry he can get, and I can calm him down. As drunk as he might be, surely he would listen to me?

Although night, the moon was full, and with the snow on the ground, it was easy to see. Off in the distance there were two men, one of them on the snow. As I got closer, I could see Willie was kneeling over top Mr. Docherty. He was slapping him in the face, trying to wake him up.

"Molly," Willie started, obviously very drunk, "What are you doin' out here girl in the cold? Ya just got over bein' sick, worried me half ta death it did. Now why would ya be out here now? Ya should be asleep is what I think ya should be doin!"

"Uncle, what's happened to Mr. Docherty?"

"He's had a few too many. But worse by God, he got into a fight with some of them Irish in that far off cabin. You got to hand it to him. Those bloody bastard Irish were having some fun at the expense of your dad and me, and good old Robert here came to our defence. It was the start of quite a scuffle, Highlander against Irish. I know he's a wee bit older, almost the same age as your dad, but he can sure throw a punch."

"Is he alright?"

"I can't say for sure. We was just behind your dad, when he just right up fell down into the snow. I was just trying to wake the poor wanker up when you walked by. I think he needs to get back to the cabin, and I need to get back to the fight and the drink."

"Uncle, don't you think you can come back and stay with us for the night? It looks like you got hit too." Suddenly, a piece of ice, no bigger than my fist, landed right beside my uncle. I looked up, and in the distance five men were approaching.

"Fraser," the tallest one exploded. "Why did ya leave so soon? Just when we wanted ta talk a little more about yer family history."

Soon, they were right beside us, almost surrounding us. Mr. Docherty had started to come around. I bent down beside him and gently tried to raise his head. My hand was freezing, yet I could feel the warmth of the blood from his head spreading across my fingertips. My uncle simply gave me a smile, winked, and stood up to face the crowd.

"Finnegan, you young Irish bastard. Why could you not let me take Robert home here? You know, now that I look at ya, I've got a joke. What is the difference between an Irish wedding and an Irish wake?"

"What?" the Irishman asked violently.

"One less drunk." As quickly as he could, my uncle made a lunge toward Finnegan. Catching him off guard, the two of them fell to the ground and started rolling in the snow, arms and legs moving around wildly. My uncle, although smaller, knows how to fight. Before Finnegan knew what hit him, Willie put a knee to his groin, got on top of him, and started to hit him violently. Finnegan's friends got a hold of my uncle and threw him off. Two of them held my uncle's arms tightly while the other two start to hit him without mercy. I had seen my uncle get beaten once before, when we were kicked out of our croft by the English, and I couldn't bear to see it happen again.

"Stop it," I screamed wildly. Everyone stopped and looked at me in amazement. I was so cold, but burning inside. "What the hell are you doing to my uncle? He's only one man against five of you."

"There was many more Scottish not ten minutes ago back at the cabin," muttered one of them.

"What does that matter?" I exclaimed. "Even if it were five Scottish against one Irish, I would do what I could to stop it. You're all drunk, and you're all behaving like farm animals fighting over scraps. We have to live together. Are you all too stupid to see what you are doing? Has the drink really brought us to this? Bloody idiots all of you! Uncle, take Mr. Docherty and get back to our cabin now!"

I don't think anyone really believed what I just said. I couldn't really believe it either. More surprising, all the men stopped what they were doing. My uncle, on my orders, staggered over to Mr. Docherty and pulled him up from the snow. The Irishmen did the same with their man who was feeling the ill effects of my uncle's beating. We slowly made our way back to the cabin, and turning back, I could see the five Irish thugs doing the same.

We were met on the outside by Mama and Mrs. Docherty. Once Mama knew Papa was not going to run back out to fetch me, she grabbed Arwen and the two of them made straight to where we were struggling back. Mrs. Docherty, seeing her husband, started to mutter curse words. Mama grabbed me in her arms and started to pray, thanking God nothing bad had happened. There we were, five of us now shivering to death in the cold night, and I thought to myself the first day of the New Year is supposed to be a happy time. If this was the first day of the year, then what are all the others going to be like?

Chapter 16

Ever since the beginning of the year, the mood at the camp has been very tense. Governor MacDonell carries a gun at all times. The problems between Scottish and Irish have bubbled up to the surface. Normally, when moving about the camp, I would always stop and nod to anyone passing by. There are so few of us here: it's important we all try to get along as best we can. But since the New Year, I have been given strict orders by Papa not to say a word to any of the Irish at the far end of the encampment. The twenty or so Irish who met us at Stornoway share a large cabin at the outer edge of the camp, and any Scottish would be a fool to get too close.

"You're getting older Molly," Papa keeps saying to me quietly almost every day, "And I don't want you getting near any of those Irish. Filthy some of them are, just a bunch of homeless Selkirk's agent convinced to come on this journey. They are men without honour Molly. They go to mass, say their confession to Father Burke, yet it does not make a damn bit of difference. Without a good woman to calm a man down, and with too much to drink..., well, you saw for yourself what can happen."

"I know how to take care of myself Papa."

"Sweetie, I know. Your Mama keeps reminding me every day how much you are growing up. I know you can take care of yourself, but it does not hurt to be careful."

Even with the tension, we still work together under the supervision of Governor MacDonell and other agents from the Hudson's Bay Company. With gun in hand, Governor MacDonell supervises the building of the boats that are to take us to the Red River settlement. Called the York Boat, they are very large, sturdy crafts that can hold up to twenty people. Papa, Willie, and the others spend part of their day building these boats. The work is extremely difficult and slow. Men can only work for a few minutes at a time because of the bitter cold. Hands become numb and freeze, and there is no rest from the biting wind stinging your face.

The speed of the work angers MacDonell. Without being provoked, he yells at the men and complains about how bad the workmanship is.

"How is a Highlander expected to work in such conditions?" Willie complained one night.

"Aye, the work is slow," added Mr. Docherty. "MacDonell complains the boats are not sturdy to make the trip down to Red River."

"The boats are as big as this hut, and here we are, living in the worst conditions as warm as can be expected," replied my uncle. "I think this business between us and the Irish is getting him a little angry. Scottish and Irish will fight. It's not much of a problem."

"Not when you are only using your fists," interrupted Papa. "There is a storehouse of guns up at York Factory, and MacDonell worries about what might happen if a few wind up missing."

I hadn't really thought about it. I can't stand the fighting. At least it was with fists or clubs, not with guns.

The scurvy, which left the camp because of the Spruce Beer, has started to come back. I drink the tree tea every day, and I always push Liam and Angus to drink also. There are some men among us who I know are not drinking it. They may say they are, but those who don't start to tire easily, and they can't get on with their work. My uncle is one of these men. He can be so stubborn and hot headed sometimes. I wonder if having his head knocked around so much has made him lose the little reason and sense he has.

"I'm not the only one who has stopped drinking the tea," Willie confided to the rest of us quietly one night. "There are some who are bringing supplies from York Factory, men who are sympathetic to us and don't think any reasonable man should have to drink something so foul."

"What supplies?" I asked quietly.

"Essence of malt, lemon salts. You know the medicine Doctor Edwards started to give to those who were feeling ill a couple of months ago."

"I thought those things were in short supply, only given to those who were truly ill?"

"Molly, what makes most of us ill is drinking this native remedy. It makes me sick to my stomach. There is not much of the medicine to go around, so those who can use only a little, hopefully just enough to keep a person healthy."

And yet, it wasn't enough to keep a person healthy. The hardest people hit by the scurvy was in the cabin closest to ours, filled with men from the Orkney Islands. A couple of these Orkneymen became very ill a few days ago. If not for the quick help of Doctor Edwards, the camp would have lost its first inhabitants. With MacDonell present, the sick men were forced to drink the Spruce Beer under threat of being shot. MacDonell soon discovered men were not following his orders, and he called a meeting of all settlers immediately.

On a frigid morning during the middle of February, MacDonell brought all of us outside. At least the sun was shining, and the winds were calm. MacDonell was anything but calm.

"We have spent almost five months in some of the coldest conditions," he began. "Some of you need to be commended for your effort. The path to our new land has been difficult. Where we are looks and feels nothing like Scotland or Ireland. That's why we need rules. Unlike you, I have spent many winters in this land, and I know what it takes to survive, and the most important thing needed to survive is law and order."

"There may not be a court in this northern fort, but there is discipline. There may not be a judge to hear your crimes, but there is punishment. And what rules are asked of you? Simply that you work and keep yourself safe and healthy. It is but little to ask, and yet there are some in our group who would see to it these simple rules, meant for the health and welfare of all, be disobeyed and perverted at every turn."

"I know supplies meant for the workers at York Factory are being smuggled into the camp. Needless to say, this problem has been looked into, and a solution has now been put into effect. And what is the reason for this criminal behaviour? Why would moral men go to such extremes to act against the good will of the company that is already paying for, at great expense I might add, a settlement where a new better life might begin? The answer, it would appear, lies in the distaste some of you have for the miraculous Spruce Beer."

"I cannot begin to describe my thoughts about this problem." MacDonell's voice started to rise higher, almost to the point of a scream. "You all will do what is asked of you here! Every day, each man, woman and child will take to their lips a cup of tea made from the wood of this country. Soon enough, once we are able, fresh game will be provided and the medicine of the country will no longer be required. Until then, you will do what is required! It's bad enough there is fighting in camp between Irish and Scottish. Men will do that. But there is to be no debate about taking this medicine needed for health and survival."

There was a long silence. The Governor was not to be questioned. With musket in hand, he seemed ready to take on anyone who dared complain. Mr. MacDonell was a military man, and he was drawing on that experience to show who was in charge of this little colony. Beside him stood Mr. Hillier, second in command at York Factory, and he also appeared ready to take any complaints and criticism head on.

It was at this point, when it appeared the meeting was over, that a voice could be heard. "I will not take it."

Turning around, I saw the voice belonged to an Orkneyman named William Finlay. Taken by surprise, MacDonell moved through the crowd to confront this rebellious voice.

"Finlay, repeat again what you just said," demanded the Governor.

"I will not take the medicine," he repeated. Everyone was surprised this Finlay, a mild, quiet man by all accounts, would be so brave. Yet he was not finished. "There are many things a man has to do to survive, and this should not be one of them. I have worked hard for wages I have not yet seen. I have come across the ocean and for what? To live in a log hut in the middle of nowhere? No Governor, I have done more than my share. I can take a lot, but I will not take this."

Completely taken by surprise, the Governor did not know how to respond. This man from Orkney was not even involved in the fight on New Year's Eve, yet here he was standing up to MacDonell, saying what was on everyone else's mind.

"You will do what is asked of you," MacDonell started, "And if you refuse, then you will suffer the consequences."

"Then I will suffer the consequences," Finlay coldly remarked.

MacDonell struck Finlay with the back of his hand. There were gasps from the crowd. Taken by surprise, Finlay stumbled back a few steps, bent down, and placed his hand towards his face. Little drops of blood started to fall on the snow. Stunned for a brief moment, Finlay raised his head and said, "Do your worst, but this poisonous drink I will not take."

MacDonell's face started to look almost as red as the blood running from Finlay's chin. Holding his musket firmly in both hands, MacDonell took the end of it and struck a terrible blow to the side of Finlay's head. The sound was awful. You could hear the crack of the bone underneath the skin. Poor Finlay fell to the ground and there lay in a crumpled heap. Two of his friends made their way to assist him, but were blocked by MacDonell who raised his gun and fired into the air. That stopped the two Orkneymen dead in their tracks.

"No one will touch this man," MacDonell bellowed. "Let this be a lesson to all who refuse the rules of the company. Hillier, place this rascal in chains! Forthwith, any settler who does not obey the rules of conduct at this camp will be placed in shackles and be confined. There is no jail at York Factory, but that will be remedied starting tomorrow."

MacDonell pushed his way through the crowd. The rest of us just stood there in stunned silence, the only sound heard being the faint whimper of my little brother Calum huddled close to my mother's breast.

Once it was clear MacDonell was not coming back, Mr. Hillier ordered two of Finlay's friends to lift him up and bring him back to their cabin. It was clear Mr. Hillier was not equipped to follow MacDonell's orders and bind Mr. Finlay. It probably did not enter his mind that anyone would dare question orders. If Finlay were somehow to escape punishment, where exactly could he go? Certainly not back to the Factory.

"I understand rules are needed," I whispered to Mama, "But the Governor goes too far."

"Aye," Mama responded. "This is not going to turn out well for us, I can see it. Let's get out of the cold and back inside."

The wind started to swirl as we made our way back to the cabin. It blew away the footprints in the snow, but as I turned around, I could clearly see the stain of blood from where Finlay lay. The stain will in time disappear, but the memory of his rebellious action will surely last.

Chapter 17

William Finlay was immediately dropped from work. The Governor tried to convince Finlay about the errors of his thinking, but he would not change from his original position. His mind was made up.

Without a jail to confine someone breaking the laws of the camp, MacDonell had a single hut built to place Finlay in custody. Finlay was also told he could not continue on towards the settlement once the ice broke. This, for all of us at the encampment, seemed much too severe a punishment.

"MacDonell has not made a just decision," Papa started one night after dinner. "To be true, this Finlay maybe should give a little, but to place a man in prison is a dangerous thing. And now he is to be sent back to Scotland after everything that has happened. MacDonell goes too far!"

"A man must stand up and act like a man," Mr. Docherty said. "This Finlay fellow, though I have spoken to him only a handful of times, is doing what he needs to do to feel like the man he left behind in Scotland. Although I do not agree with him, and I disagree even more with his punishment, it reminds us all that we need to remember who we are and where we've come from. We are sons and daughters of Scotland, not animals."

"We all feel that way from time to time," Papa replied. "Never in my life have I been ordered around so much by others. But you have to take it and keep thinking about the future. Sacrifices have to be made now for later: a new life in Red River with a home and some land to plant crops. This is what we have to live for. We've come so far, and now this young man, this Finlay, is being forced to turn back. I'm afraid something bad might happen."

"The other men in his cabin are pissed beyond belief," Willie stated bluntly. "I would be careful about walking around the camp. Those bloody Irish are bad enough, but now the Orkneymen are getting mad beyond reckoning. They won't stand to see one of their own dealt with so harshly."

It did not take long for Willie's words to come true. The first night of Finlay's detention in the holding cabin, I was awoken by loud shouting outside our cabin. Startled, I lifted myself up to see what was happening. The entire cabin was awake, and the mood was tense. Papa and Mr. Docherty stood by the door, while the boys with huddled with Mama and Mrs. Docherty in the corner.

"Molly," Papa whispered, "Go to your mother, and for goodness sake, do not leave this cabin. You were a brave girl on New Year's Eve, but tonight you stay put."

"Where are Uncle Willie and the other men?" I asked. "What's going on?"

'Don't you worry, your uncle is not out to cause any harm. He's outside to see what is going on."

"What's going on? I asked impatiently."

"The Orkneymen are trying to free Finlay," Papa said. "Some of them are probably drunk too. You don't know what these men might do. This is open rebellion against MacDonell, Selkirk, and the Company. This could be dangerous."

A loud knock was heard at the door. Before Papa could find out who it was, Willie burst through the door, panting like a dog in heat. He was covered in soot, and he was coughing uncontrollably. As Papa shut the door, I could see a bright light flickering in the distance, and then I knew what the Orkneymen did to free their imprisoned friend.

"This is open rebellion," my uncle started. "The men from Orkney and Glasgow, about thirteen of them in all by my count, have burnt down the cabin with Finlay inside of it."

"Did he not burn alive inside it?" asked Papa.

"I don't know about his condition. The cabin is still burning to the ground, but Finlay is no longer there." Willie started to cough and hack and seemed unable to catch his breath. Mama put her hand on his back to sooth him, and she brought a cup of water to his lips.

"Take it easy Willie," she said. "Try to calm your breathing. You've taken in a great deal of the smoke. Please don't tell me you were part of the rescue?"

Willie looked wide eyed at Mama. "Fiona, don't worry. Although I was there, I didn't lift a finger to help. It's true I know Finlay, but he is not a friend of mine." Willie took a moment to calm his breathing down and said "I am not sad to see that he has been freed from his prison."

"Those who saved Finlay carry more than just torches?" asked Mr. Docherty.

"There are at least five or six guns in the rebel's possession. With muskets raised, they were able to walk across camp and free Finlay without any opposition. And who would dare to oppose them? Except for Mr. MacDonell and Mr. Hillier, everyone disagrees with the sentence passed down. Things have been bad since the beginning of the New Year, but now I fear things might become much worse."

The noise outside started to lessen. Soon all that could be heard was the wind moving the tops of the trees, faintly off in the distance. All was quiet in our cabin, everyone lost in their own thoughts. Too tired to care, the boys started to fall asleep, their breathing calm and steady, but there was worry and concern written on the faces of all the adults. This open rebellion would lead to many problems for MacDonell and for us as well. Eventually, too sick with exhaustion to care, I closed my eyes and thanked God at least I could forget everything while asleep.

Chapter 18

"You stand here accused of treason, against the company that has housed you, against Lord Selkirk who has paid for your upkeep, against those others of your party who know order and discipline in extreme conditions must be maintained. A threat to any one person in this group is a threat to us all. What did you think would happen after this bold and daring escape? That, upon freeing Mr. Finlay, your lives would continue as they have these many months? The rashness and stupidity of your actions place everyone in harm's way. What benefit is it to act so hastily, when the outcome could have been death or terrible injury for both yourself and Mr. Finlay?"

MacDonell is in fine form. He's a military man, and his comfort in court is obvious. Sitting with him is Mr. Cook and Mr. Hillier. This is the first time we have been back to York Factory since we came here six months ago. The Governor thought it necessary to empty the entire encampment so we could witness the proceedings against the men who burnt down Finlay's jail. These men are to be made an example of. This is a way for MacDonell to prove once again he is in charge. He appears extremely confident in this large room, the "Great Hall" of York Factory.

Before Mr. MacDonell stand fourteen men, the group of Selkirk Settlers from Orkney and Glasgow. All except Mr. Finlay stare coldly at the floor, expecting nothing from this court but a guilty verdict. Some of them still have dark stains on their clothes and skin from the rescue attempt of a few days ago, smudges of black scattered all over shirts and pants. Others carry burn marks on their garments where embers must have fallen. They look wretched, as if having spent time in hell itself.

Everyone was quiet. As I scanned the crowd, I saw a familiar face that helped me tolerate the long voyage on the Edward and Anne: George Cooper.

"Mr. Hillier", continued Mr. MacDonell in a voice that echoed from wall to wall, "Do you have any words to say before the sentence is brought forward?"

Mr. Hillier cleared his throat. With a smirk on his face, he started to talk. "Ladies and gentlemen, what exactly are we to do with this group of rascals that now stand before this court? Certainly, the evils of alcohol may have played a part in their attempt to rescue their comrade, but we cannot put drink on trial, now can we." MacDonell, Hillier, and Cook started to chuckle to themselves, but no one else in that large room found what he said funny.

Mr. Hillier continued, "Although a man might be drunk, his actions are his own. To those who work hard and obey what simple rules there are, the rewards are plentiful, yet to those who act in contempt of law and order, may justice be served. Mr. MacDonell, Mr. Cook, my good colonists, it is quite obvious what must be done with these men."

"Quite right, Mr. Hillier, quite right indeed" continued Mr. MacDonell. "Before sentence is carried out, do any of you ruffians have anything to say for yourself?"

Almost everyone in the crowd, settler and worker alike, turned their head and cupped their hand behind their ear to hear anything that might be said in defence of the crime. It took but a few moments for Mr. Finlay to step forward from the rest of the accused. What boldness this poor man possessed.

"There is not much a man can say to stop what is coming from coming" he started. "You look upon us as criminals, as men lower than yourselves. Back home this might be true, but here we are all equal. We all share in the pain, the damp, the freezing cold, the darkness, the loneliness. You stand in judgement over me, over my friends, and true enough, you do have some small power to hold us responsible for these actions, but are not these the actions of men who are already punished, men who are already in jail? You look upon me, upon us, ready to give a verdict; to punish us for this treason. What, Governor MacDonell, can you possibly do to those of us who already feel defeated?"

Finlay took a step back and lowered his head to the ground like the other men on trial. MacDonell and Hillier, eyes wide open, sat in stunned silence, not sure what to do. Even Mr. Cook appeared uncomfortable in his seat. I could see people's eyes dart back and forth, with a look of recognition on their faces. Mr. Finlay, once again, was able to say what was on everyone's mind. When a man is pushed to the edge, when he feels there is nothing left he can fight for, the only thing he has left to hold on to is the truth.

"A very fine speech indeed," started Mr. MacDonell, "But it does not change what has happened. You disobeyed the order not to drink daily of the spruce tea, and you and your fellow Scotsmen from Orkney and Glasgow burnt down the hut used for your confinement. Since there is no place large enough to house fourteen prisoners, you will continue to live at the encampment, but this is as far as you will get to Red River. Once the spring thaw has cleared the ice, you will be taken back to Scotland and placed under arrest." MacDonell, Cook, and Hillier got up from their chairs and made their way past the accused men. They walked with their heads held high.

I didn't think Governor MacDonell would go this far. If anything, we all expected to make it to our new home sometime this summer. Each person has already gone through so much, has already endured such hardship, to think they must make the return trip across the ocean, to never see the dream of a new life fulfilled... this seemed almost like a fate worse than death.

"Papa, what do we do now?" I enquired. "Do we make our way back to the encampment?"

"I don't know Molly. I don't know anything anymore. MacDonell wants these men to come back with us, to continue to live with us knowing they cannot continue on. Surrounded by men like this is bad business indeed. Terrible days may still lie ahead of us."

I knew exactly what he meant, and it started to make me a little sick to my stomach. "Can I step outside for a few minutes to get some air Papa? I don't feel well."

"Of course Molly, but don't stray off too far, since we'll probably have to make the journey back to the encampment while we still have some light with us."

I felt like I was suffocating. I didn't know what was coming over me? It was like the first few days on ship when I didn't have my sea legs. The room was so large, yet it felt like the walls were starting to close in around me, crushing me where I stood. I quickly let go of Liam and made a dash for the door. Pushing a couple of the native workers aside, I hurried outside where I could be alone with the snow, the wind, and my own sickness.

I curled up into a ball on the ground, closed my eyes, and desperately tried to think about home. I tried to picture my mind loft, warm blankets, and the smell of Mama's breakfast. I tried to see Papa's face, not worn with the worry he now carries. I wanted to see my uncle, my courageous, ill-tempered uncle, filled with hope, humour, and song. But the images, once so clear and vivid, did not come to me. I was fighting with my own thoughts. Forgetfulness was taking hold, and it was winning. In place of my happy childhood, all I could see were images of the past year, of shattered lives and suffering. Stop this, I commanded myself, things will get better, things will get better, things must get better...

"Molly, are you alright?" I looked up from the ground to see George Cooper. "You left so fast, I could tell something was wrong. You must get up from off the ground Molly; you'll die from the cold if you are not careful."

"I can think of worse things than dying out here in the cold and snow," I bluntly replied.

"Molly, you certainly can't mean that. Please let me help you up."

George extended his hand and helped me to my feet. Taking a couple of deep breaths, I pushed the snow off my coat and legs. "Thank you for your help, but it was not needed."

"Molly, it's been such a long time since we last spoke to each other. Is this how you rekindle old friendship?"

I looked into George's eyes and a faint memory started to take shape: a memory of a time when we first met on ship, and how good I felt about the talks we had. I started to soften a little, and the sickness seemed to pass. "Much has happened in the last few months George, more than a lifetime worth of memories. If I appear a little ill-tempered, I apologize."

"There have been many times when I've thought about you Molly. I've wanted to make the trip to the encampment, but my duties have kept me busy."

"What have you been doing all this time George?"

"York Factory is the jewel of the Hudson Bay Company, and yet as the headquarters of the Company's Northern Department, there are still problems with competition from the other fur traders on the continent: The North-West Company."

"I've heard about them. Didn't Alexander Mackenzie work them?"

"I believe so," George replied. "Mr. Cook has grand plans for this fort. If we are to be the main trading post for Hudson's Bay, Mr. Cook will see this fort increase in importance, and in size."

"So you are a general labourer?"

"Yes, and the labour is both bone chilling and back breaking. I have done well here, but this life is not for me."

"What do you intend to do George?"

"I intend to break with the other Selkirk settlers for Red River in the summertime."

"Have you spoken to Governor MacDonell of your plans?"

"I have mentioned it to him, and he seemed fine with the idea. With fourteen men forced to turn back, I'm sure the need for settlers is much greater."

"I'm afraid the sentence carried out today is only the start of something bad."

"These men have no quarrel with you Molly. It has been a harsh winter, and some men broke down long ago. Didn't you notice how many settlers made their way to the fort from the encampment? They came for work and a chance to live in conditions that are more civilized than what you are forced to live in."

"Why can't these guilty men be kept here at the fort away from us?"

"If MacDonell had his way, these men would be locked up with the key thrown away. MacDonell thinks he is in full control of the situation here, but even he must answer to Governor Cook, and there is no chance in hell Cook will have these men at the fort."

"So, Finlay and his friends are found guilty, yet they still walk freely among us?"

"There is more than just that Molly. Perhaps I shouldn't tell you this, but you will find out soon enough. There are many who feel sympathy for your situation. It is common knowledge certain supplies have been taken from the warehouses to help ease your suffering. Some of you have received medicine, but the men who stand trial today also have guns in their possession."

"What is their intention?" I cried. "You tell me I should not worry, these men have no quarrel with me, my family, yet they now have the use of guns, not just fists and clubs! George, you were not at the encampment at the beginning of the New Year when a drunken brawl broke out. You were not there to see how beaten up some men were, all because of too much whisky. What are we expected to do?" I had just finished crying not even three minutes ago, and the tears started to well up in my eyes once again.

Before I could think of what to do, George had me in his arms and held me closely. I should pull away, but his arms had such a powerful grip, and deep inside I knew I did not want him to let go. He held me for a long time, letting me cry on his shoulder. All the emotion of the day was pouring out of me, a torrent of sadness and fear. I was letting myself go, letting someone else see exactly how vulnerable, how lonely I was. Soon my breathing became steadier, and I could feel the tightness of George's arms start to loosen. I pulled away from George and started to wipe the tears from my eyes.

"Soon," George started, "The ice will start to thaw, the snow will melt, and you will be free of this place. I know what men are like, so please be careful. Molly, think about the future, think about your family. And if that's not enough, then I beg you to think about me."

I could not look George in the eye for fear he might see more tears. I did something unexpected: I reached up and gave George a kiss on the cheek. A young woman should never be so forward, but I couldn't help myself. Saying a hasty goodbye, I quickly turned to go back inside where my family was waiting for me. Such an emotional day filled with highs and lows. If anything, this grand adventure I was on was certainly full of surprises.

Chapter 19

"Keep your hands pressed over your ears Liam," I commanded. "For heaven's sake do not let go until I tell you to."

I can see the fear in his eyes as he nods his head. The screams coming from outside the cabin are unbearable. Doctor Edwards is there, as well as some of the men from this cabin, to assist with the amputation. This is the first surgery the Doctor has been asked to perform. The scurvy is all but finished in the camp, but I wonder if he would prefer to have those days back in exchange for the arm he's about to take...?

Ever since MacDonell held court over the fourteen accused, things have been tense at camp, yet still bearable. I try to keep to myself, but time alone is impossible with so much work. I take care of Calum to give Mama some rest, help prepare meals for everyone in our cabin, and mend clothes with needle and thread. When outside, I try not to walk or even look in the direction of the cabin that has been taken over by Finlay and his gang from Orkney and Glasgow. At all times of the day, one of the men can be spotted outside with a gun at his side. No one from that cabin works with the other settlers, building the boats that are to take us to our settlement. They are among us, but they stand alone.

Illegal supplies continue to flow to the camp. Papa and Willie sometimes talk to Finlay outside his hut. I wondered about this one night, and Papa said it does not matter where you come from in Scotland. Scottish folk need to stick together. When you have lived so long with people, you have to let go and accept there may be differences, but what we have in common is more important.

I appreciated hearing this even though I am still on my guard. It's getting warmer outside, and people are cheering up. The scurvy, which caused such pain in camp, has now completely vanished, and with it, the order to drink that terrible Spruce Beer.

Men have started to hunt deer, and they have been plentiful. This month alone, hundreds of deer of have crossed over the Nelson River, some daring to come close to camp. Only two days ago, I came across a small doe not a stone's throw from our cabin. I felt a small twinge of sadness for these animals, knowing our survival depends on killing them, and I hoped this one in particular would not find its way into one of our traps.

So far this month, the men of the encampment have shot fifteen deer. Every day, we are able to eat fresh venison. The river is still frozen, but the days are growing longer. The sun makes everyone feel better. Mama is getting more rest, and Calum is crawling around in our cabin, getting into everything.

It was too good to be true. As always, there had to be something to come along, something to remind us of the difficulties and challenges of this remote outpost. And something did happen, two days ago, something I will never forget. There are things a person sees that etch into memory and never leave, things that send a shudder up and down your spine. This is how I felt about poor Mr. Redden who made his way back to camp after a deer hunt.

I do not know all of the details, save to say that this poor man, Hugh Redden, an Irishman from Dublin, was shot by accident in the arm from another man in his hunting party. As the men made their way back to camp, I could not quite believe the screams I was hearing.

Mr. Redden was helped to his cabin. Behind them, there was a small red trail of blood, pointing the way back to where the terrible accident took place. Mr. Redden looked pale. His arm hung limp at his side, and with every small step, a grimace of pain covered his face. All other activities stopped. Everyone was a statue except for their heads which all moved in one direction, following the stain on the snow.

"Molly," Mama whispered, "Come back inside immediately."

I dutifully obeyed, but the damage had already been done. In our cabin, everyone started looking sadly at the floor not knowing what to say, except for baby Calum who continued to tug at Liam's pants and hit him with a small stick he found on the floor.

"Mama," I asked, "He was shot wasn't he?"

"It looks that way. Poor man! Even if in my heart I can't stand the Irish, I would not wish this type of ill to come to any man."

"What will become of him?"

"The Doctor will have to take a look and figure out what to do. If it's bad, really bad, then there might not be anything he can do..."

After two days, the infection in Redden's arm became so bad Dr. Edwards had to cut it off. He needed men strong in body and in spirit, since an operation of this sort was not something you could assist with if your constitution was weak. My father and Mr. Docherty, along with four other men, volunteered to help the doctor by holding the patient still so the work could be done as quickly possible.

With his hands still firmly pressed against his ears, Liam asked "Is it over Molly, can I let go?" Looking at him with genuine concern in my eyes, I shook my head, and then brought him forward and cradled his head to my chest to provide the kind of comfort an older sister is supposed to.

All was quiet in our cabin, except for the crackle of fire in the corner and the occasional angry outburst from my baby brother. Mrs. Docherty and Mama tried to keep busy, but they could not concentrate on their work. The sounds from outside were increasing in strength, and with every blood curdling scream, I felt my own body shudder, as if I were experiencing the same agony myself.

After about five minutes, the sounds started to quiet down. All of a sudden, Papa and Mr. Docherty burst through the door, with tears in their eyes and blood covering their arms, hands, and clothes.

"Good God," yelled Mrs. Docherty, "Are the two of you alright? You damn well look like you have been to hell and back." You could see the tears start to well up in her eyes.

"We'll both be fine," Mr. Docherty started, "Although I did not know a man could be that strong. I was merely holding on to his leg, but it took every bit of strength I had to keep him still."

"Is that poor man going to be alright?" Mama inquired.

"Only time will tell," Papa said. "Doctor Edwards had to cut two inches above Redden's left elbow. He has lost a lot of blood." While he was speaking, Papa pulled out a whisky bottle from the shelf, uncorked it, and helped himself to a generous drink. He then passed the bottle to Mr. Docherty who did the exact same thing.

"I did not know a man had that much blood in him," Papa continued. "Doctor Edwards gave him almost a half a pint of whisky to dull the pain, and then he made him bite down on a piece of wood, yet the yelling and cursing were louder than any I have ever heard. Many of us were holding him down while the Doctor did the cutting. I thought for sure the poor bugger was going to die right there on the table." I could see Mr. Docherty nodding in agreement.

"John," Mama interrupted. "Perhaps you should not talk about these things in front of the children."

"Fiona, you're right, but the kids are getting older, older beyond their years in this place, and this may not be the last time when something as tragic as this might happen. So much suffering... is this to be what is now normal?"

Mama let out a huge sigh, returning the love in her eyes for her husband, this man who has been so strong for her, for us. "I don't think this is now the way of things," Mama started. "We must remember to be careful, and to hold on to what is important." She grabbed Calum from the floor and held him close. "I have heard this accident was caused by a man drunk with dulled senses. Once again, the evils of alcohol have played a part in the hardship of our lives."

Mr. Docherty handed the bottle back and Papa put it back where he found it. "Alcohol did play its part in this tragic story, but even more is the inexperience many have living and working in this area. Some men are using a gun for the first time."

"Can't the natives help us?" I asked.

"The natives will sometimes help," Mr. Docherty responded, "But their language is strange, and all too often men walk away because they cannot understand what is being said. Europeans who work for the Company will sometimes help us when they can, but the natives of the area tend to stick with their own."

"So, what is now to become of Mr. Redden from Dublin?" asked Mama.

"If he lives, there is no doubt he will not make the journey with us down the river. What is a man to do with only one arm? Back home, from time to time, I would see people without an arm or a leg in the village square begging for scraps. Alas for Mr. Redden. He might live, but his life is certainly over."

Mr. Redden will never be the same again. If he survives the next few days, his life will be one of hardship and misery. But what about us? I know it's selfish to think about myself when my heart should go out to someone else, but hardship and misery has been our lot ever since we started on this adventure.

Is not our Scottish life over? Can we truly make a Highland life here in Canada? Lord Selkirk seems to think so, and the only reason we're here is because we believed his vision, his dream. You can be Scottish in Canada, but could it be possible to do what Selkirk and MacDonell want: to bring Scotland to Canada?

As I wrestled with these thoughts, the cabin started to quiet down. Papa and Mr. Docherty were trying their best to clean off the blood from their clothes and hands, while Uncle Willie, quiet for the entire time, sat in the corner staring intently into the fire. We are Scottish in Canada, I continued to think to myself. Is there anything else we have to give up before we can call this place home?

Chapter 20

Free from the bondage of York Factory. The oars strike the water, and the men pull them with tense muscles... We are making our way inland: The Promised Land. The river parts as York boats, loaded down with supplies, people, hope, glide further from the enslavement of nine months. Bitter cold, hunger, closed quarters, anger, unhappiness... each pull with the oar wipes the slate clean. The Factory fades into distance, fades into memory. Ice melts, leaving green grass in its wake. The call of birds can be heard, and the soft sound of rushing water. The days are warm with anticipation. Moses led his people out of Egypt, parted the Red Sea so that they could escape their prison. He had his staff, and we carry an oar...

It has been nine months since we first left the Edward and Anne to spend the winter at York Factory. And now, after such a winter filled with suffering and difficulties, we are packed and making the last leg of our journey: the long trip down the river to the forks of the Red and Assiniboia.

Not everyone is making this journey with us, but a couple of months ago I thought even fewer people would come. Hugh Redden will not travel with us since there is nothing a man with one arm can do. Two other Irishmen, Higgins and Hart, are being sent home for a vicious, almost deadly, drunken attack on an Orkneyman just over a month ago. Even Father Burke, the only man of God among us, has decided to go back to Scotland and not stay on. Yet the men who I thought for sure would not come, the men who rebelled against MacDonell, will make the final leg of the voyage with the rest of the settlers along the Hayes River.

For a long time, these men made the twenty mile trip back and forth to the Factory for supplies. While the ice held along the river, while the path was clear between our camp and the fort, Finlay and his gang were able to hold out against MacDonell and the Company. A secret stash of guns helped their cause. But once the ice started to melt, things changed for the rebels. Without the proper craft to make it back to camp, it was only a matter of time before the men were forced to surrender their firearms, and themselves, to the mercy of the Company. MacDonell had waited them out. Instead of taking out his anger on these men as I had expected, he decided they would once again join the expedition and help with the creation of the Red River Settlement. I thought it strange for Mr. MacDonell to forgive these men, until Papa pointed out that all of us were brought here at great expense, and to send men back would be seen as a failure in the eyes of our great hidden benefactor Lord Selkirk.

May and June were both warm months, and everyone was ready to leave. Being used to cold conditions, it took a while to adjust to the heat and mosquitoes. Much of the fur and animal skins that acted as a second layer were replaced with the old, dirty, and torn clothing we came with from Scotland. I know it must have been my imagination, but I sometimes think I can smell the textile factory from New Lanark on my clothes.

Five York boats will take us to Red River. MacDonell thinks the boats don't look sturdy enough to make it to our destination. He looks at these boats with disgust. They may not be as strong as crafts built by people of this country, but we were able to build cabins to survive the winter, so I have no doubt these boats will take us safely to our destination. Papa says they can't be any worse than that Edward and Anne, and we made it safely across the ocean, may God have mercy on poor Isabella McIntyre's soul.

Most of the ice melted when the heat came, yet there were still thick patches on the river, and it seemed to me like they would never melt. As each day passed, people were becoming more and more impatient since fur traders almost daily could be seen rowing along the river with their canoes filled to overflowing with animal skins. Thankfully, a few days ago, at the beginning of July, all looked clear, and it was a huge sigh of relief for everyone when the order came to depart.

Although very large, each boat was filled to the top with people and supplies. In our boat alone, there were fourteen people. Everyone from our cabin was in our boat along with Dr. Edwards and George Cooper. It pleased me to hear George would be travelling with us, and Mama was equally pleased to find out that the Doctor was travelling with us too.

The start of the journey was pleasant enough. The winds were calm, and the water was steady. If this is what we should expect, I thought to myself, the journey to our home should be an easy one.

It was on our third day when the morning came with a bright blue sky. Not a cloud could be seen as far as the eye could see. The day was beautiful, but I knew the heat of the midday would be uncomfortable. As we started pulling away from shore, Mr. Bethune took a break from rowing to pull out his bagpipes.

He began with some of my favourite marching songs. As the music started to float lightly in the air, the rowing started to speed up. Everyone recognized songs like _Scotland the Brave_ and _Highland Laddie_. Beside me, I could hear Mama hum to the music, a slight smile on her lips as she had her eyes closed.

"This is perhaps one of the nicest days we have had in this country," Willie said as he continued to row. "What could be more beautiful than a lovely tune in full sunshine?"

"A young lass bringing you a nice ale?" Doctor Edwards suggested.

Everyone laughed. Doctor Edwards is always so serious, and it was nice to see his mood lighten.

"Why good doctor", Willie continued, "It sounds like you woke up in a good mood. You're quite right: a nice drink with an equally nice woman would be preferable to this."

"Willie," Mama interrupted, "Would you shut your mouth so the good Mr. Bethune can continue with his lovely playing?"

Willie did what she asked. He didn't have to be told twice. The morning was one of the best in a while, and no one was going to change it with a silly argument.

The music continued for a couple of hours until Mr. Bethune started to tire, yet he was not the only one to tire. Ever since we left the fort, the river has been very slow. It requires more strength and energy from the men to pull the oars through the water. Every so often, Doctor Edwards calls out to everyone to stop for a while to take some rest and a drink. As I look out on the water, I notice the other boats doing the same thing.

"Molly," Liam pulled at my shirt, "Look how beautiful the shore is."

I can't believe I had not seen it before. While taking a rest, the boat had come into an area with tall banks on all sides, some as high as one hundred feet. As my eyes moved steadily up the bank to the West, I noticed how smooth the surface was, and how white the sand appeared. Only God himself could create a place so beautiful.

"The banks on all sides are incredible," I said, wondering if anyone would listen.

Coming to sit beside me, George started to tell me the little that he knew. "I heard we would be crossing this place today Molly. The journey from here will get more difficult."

"More difficult?"

"It's been an easy voyage so far, but this is a pretty big boat, and the waters we have to travel through are going to be rougher than the ones we've been on since leaving the fort."

"Why does something so beautiful always have to be mixed up with something so difficult and dangerous?"

"That's very true," interrupted Doctor Edwards who was listening in on the conversation. "These banks you see all around you are very close in appearance to the White Cliffs of Dover, a place I had a chance to see when I was a small boy. The Cliffs of Dover are made of chalk, but what you see here is white clay. Dover is beautiful, but it's a place that has had its share of misery and misfortune. If Napoleon invades, it will be at Dover with its beautiful white cliffs. I may not have a full love of England, but the idea of the French taking whatever they want infuriates me." Doctor Edwards paused for a moment, lost in thought about the land he has left behind. Then, as if waking from a dream, he raised his hand, gesturing at the land all around, and continued his thoughts. "And right here, this is the start of our journey down a section called Hill River. George is right Molly when he says things are about to get more difficult. All too often, beauty and danger can be found mixed together."

After resting for a few more minutes we continued our journey, rowing through beautiful scenery on all sides. To pass the time, Doctor Edwards talked about his different travels in England, as well as his visits to France and Italy.

The water remained calm as we rowed throughout the afternoon. The sun was close to the Western horizon when we decided to head for shore and make camp. We had passed the white cliffs and found a clearing where there was enough room for all five boats. Everyone was in good spirits as three large fires were started. Soon, there was enough hot water for a nice cup of tea for anyone who wanted it. I decided to take a little walk, making sure not to stray too far. It was dusk, and the mosquitoes were starting to swarm in large circles above my head.

As I daydreamed while staring at the horizon, I felt a tap on my shoulder. "Molly?" it was Mama, "Are you alright darling?"

"Where's Calum," I asked.

"Oh, he's with Papa and Willie. Last I looked, he was down by the shore, picking up rocks and letting them drop in the water. It certainly does my heart good to see he is alright, and getting better by the day."

"The winter was tough on him."

"It was tough on us all Molly, especially you. There were days in that cabin I thought would never end, and the nights were even worse. I thank God everyday and pray he keeps us safe." She let these words sink in for a moment, and then turned to look me in the eyes. "Sweetie, is everything alright with you?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I've seen the way Mr. Cooper looks at you. He seems like a fine young man to me. Very helpful he is. But if he is bothering you in any way, I want you to tell me.

"Mama," I exclaimed, "George is a nice boy who has not bothered me at all. Ever since we met, he has been kind and helpful."

"My dear girl," Mama replied, "It sounds like you and this Mr. Cooper have some affection for each other."

I could feel the redness reach my cheeks. I wished for a horde of mosquitoes to come down and force me to run and jump into the river. Mama probably knew from the start how I felt about George. She would not let up too unless I told her what she wanted to hear.

"I do have some affection for George," I started. "He has shown me nothing but respect and kindness. I hope whatever happens to him in the future, he will be successful. All we have is friendship, and that is all I want. Too many things happen to this family to have me thinking about boys."

Mama started to smile, almost laugh a little bit. "Molly, darling, I don't think you have to worry too much about us. You are still young, but when the time is right, and you meet a man you wish to marry, your family will be with you."

"Please don't tell Papa or Willie about this Mama. And please, don't change the way you talk to George."

"Don't worry Molly: this talk is just between the two of us."

We started to make our way back to camp. The sun was refusing to set. In this country, the nights are long in the winter, and the days are equally long in the summer. Tents had been pitched, and you could hear the sound of snoring. As Mama and I made our way back up to the fire, we could see Papa speaking loudly. Liam and Angus were sitting quite close, hanging on to his every word.

"Doctor Edwards looks upon those cliffs and thinks of Dover, but I look on them and think of Great Uncle Donnan, one of the greatest Frasers ever." It had been a while since I had heard Papa talk like this. I remember his love of storytelling, and I thought it was something he had lost forever.

"Tell us about this Donnan Fraser then," Doctor Edwards replied, clearly interested.

"Donnan was in Canada a long time ago, fighting against his will for a country and king that would see him thrown in jail if he did not do what was commanded. The war I'm talking about was against the French outside the fortress of Quebec."

"This battle is well known to me," Doctor Edwards replied. "Please tell us what heroic role your great uncle played."

"As some of you may know, the battle went poorly for the English for most of the summer. The commander, James Wolfe, had made a mistake trying to take the river close to the fortress itself. Thankfully, my great uncle was not a part of that invasion, at a place called Beauport I think, for certainly he would have died and not made it back home."

"In September, Wolfe made his final stand in Quebec some ways up the river at a place called Abraham. Throughout the night, my uncle, with his regiment of Scottish Highlanders, scaled the cliffs from the river. They were trying to catch the French by surprise. Men had to climb quietly through the night, and yet still have the energy to fight in the morning."

"That must have been quite an honour for your great uncle to be a part of such an important battle," remarked the Doctor.

"You may have that opinion, but not Donnan. He was fighting someone else's war, and he played the part of the hero, but not for any love of the British."

Angus and Liam were getting impatient. "Papa," Liam pleaded, "Did Donnan kill any of those French?"

"He would have you think he alone was responsible for the French surrender, but he did manage to kill one or two. My boys, the Redcoats did something a little different that day. Instead of lining up three rows deep, they stretched their line two rows deep and a mile long."

"The Thin Red Line," added Doctor Edwards.

"I have not heard the name," Papa replied, "But it makes sense. The English did something not done before, and the French did not know how to respond. Their first shot was too far, and as they approached this 'thin red line', they started to get confused and not stay together. When Wolfe gave the order to fire, he certainly let them have it. Donnan said he killed two with one shot, but who knows what you hit when so many men shoot at the same time. The bagpipes started to play, and Highlanders pulled out swords long enough and sharp enough to cut a man in two. Donnan cut down one soldier as he tried to run back to the city."

"The Great Battle for the American Continent finished in a matter of minutes," remarked Doctor Edwards.

"Thankfully, Donnan was not commanded to stay behind in Quebec for the winter. Many men died defending a broken and burned fortress."

"All right," Mama interrupted, "I know the boys want to hear more, but these days on the river are long, and tomorrow will get here before you know it."

"Fiona is right," added Doctor Edwards. "We need to get as much sleep as we can, since the calm water we have enjoyed travelling on will soon change."

Although everyone was enjoying the story telling by the fire, we all knew the Doctor was right. We will not have to climb up any cliffs, or face any enemies across a battlefield. Our enemy may end up being the very river itself.

Chapter 21

"It hurts so much," Angus screams at the top of his lungs. His eyes plead towards his mother's, yet all she can do is to hold him still and comfort him. "Mama, make the pain go away."

Arwen Docherty looks at her son through tear drenched eyes. She wants to help him, do the job God has given her, yet she is helpless in the face of her son's suffering. Through the mist of her tears, she turns to her husband who for the first time is speechless. A broken arm is not something that can be fixed simply with a hug and a kiss...

It was on our third portage through Hill River that poor Angus got his arm caught between logs used to roll the York Boat on land. Liam and Angus continually play, especially around places where they shouldn't be. The bottom of a boat while it's being rolled on land is one of those places.

I knew the boats were large, but I had no idea how difficult it would be to land and move on foot around rapids and falls. The first portage was what they call a semi-decharges. The rapid was not very steep, so it was not necessary to remove all of the cargo from our boat to make our way up the river.

All of us were expected to help where we could. The boat was pulled by the men, inch by inch, through the water and along the shore, and Liam, Angus and I were expected to carry supplies. On the first portage, we only needed to make five trips from where we landed to where we put back in the water. The path along the river was not very steep and rocky.

It was only another hour on the water when we had to get out of the boat and unload again. Our second portage was much longer than the first. Since all we were doing was bypassing a rapid, there was once again no need to fully remove all the supplies from our boat. But to make things easier on Papa, Willie and the others who had to drag the boat along the shore, we did what we could.

After the second portage we made camp for the night. The men needed all of their strength to drag the boat along the shore, and no one had the energy to continue on to the next portage. Tents were put up in haste, and a fire was started in short order. After a cup of tea and something to eat, Papa and Willie started to come around a little, but I could tell they were in a lot of pain. Willie was constantly rubbing the back of his neck, and every so often he grimaced when he touched a spot that was tender and sore.

If only it was just pain we had to contend with here. Every day, as dusk approaches, the mosquitoes come out in full force. Standing close to the fire provides some relief, yet the warmth of the flames combined with the summer heat makes an unbearable combination, matched only by the never ending insect noises.

Unable to stand it any longer, Liam and Angus made a mad dash for the water. Splashing around, holding their breath underwater, they were able to go where the insects couldn't. I was about to tell them to get out when all I saw Doctor Edwards run into the water to join them. "Come in," he called out to everyone. "The water is quite cool, and it provides relief from the insects. Too many bug bites can make a person sick." With a smile on his face, he concluded, "As the only doctor in our group, I demand everyone come in the water. It's the best medicine you can find out here!"

Looking at Mama, we both nodded as we followed the doctor's orders. With Calum in her arms, she carefully waded out in the water. Papa and Willie looked like children, the way they were splashing each other. Looking in George's direction, he had taken off his shirt to wash away some of the dirt. I didn't want anyone to see me staring at him, so I quickly turned away.

Holding my shoes, I could feel the stones and sand rub all over the bottom of my feet, almost tickling them. Carefully, I walked out into the river up to my waist, yet I didn't go any further: I don't know how to swim. That didn't matter to me though. What was important was how happy everyone was for a short time splashing in the river.

Everyone spent a long time in the water. Papa, Willie, and most of the other men started to strip and wash their clothes. Using rocks, they started to scrub what dirt they could off their shirts and pants. Most of the men were naked, so I turned immediately around and made my way back to the shore.

I dried myself by sitting close to the fire. I could still hear the buzzing of mosquitoes, but it was not as bad as before. Using my fingers as a brush, I ran them through my hair and tried to wring out as much water as I could. I would probably go to sleep feeling wet, but I hoped my damp clothes would help to keep me cool on this hot summer night.

Our third portage the next day was a full descharges. The entire boat needed to be emptied of its supplies so it could be dragged on land to bypass a waterfall called the White-Mud Falls. I understand why we made camp early yesterday. This portage was the worst one yet.

Two of the York Boats made shore on this side of the falls, while the three others in our party were unloaded across the river. On our side, Governor MacDonell and Doctor Edwards walked out to determine the best way to move around the waterfall. Fur traders travel by canoe: small, light water crafts that can be carried by two or three men. A York Boat, however, is too large a vessel to be carried, so it must be dragged along the ground using a suitable path that is not too steep.

It took almost everyone to pull the boat ashore. I had no idea how we were going to move it until I saw Doctor Edwards with an axe in his hand. To move the boat uphill, we would need logs to go underneath it in order to roll it. It would take hours to move the boat, since the logs had to continually be pulled out from the back and placed in front, allowing you to move the boat only a few feet at a time.

The logs were cut quickly. The crew of each boat usually stayed with themselves, but the difficulty of this job made it necessary for everyone to work together. Soon, MacDonell's boat was being rolled through the forest, with some men pulling with ropes, others pushing from the back, and a group moving the logs along the bottom. The work was tremendous, and it took eighteen men almost three hours to move the boat through the forest around the waterfall.

After a small break, it was time to move our boat. As much as I wanted to help, I knew I would simply be in the way. My job was to take care of the children. Mrs. Docherty and Mama were by the shore preparing food and drink for everyone once the portage was complete. I could see how dangerous the work was. The boat could slip off a log and crush someone if they were not careful. I ordered Liam and Angus to stay clear, to be near me, but Calum took up most of my attention. This is no place for a toddler, and yet here he was, whimpering and squirming as I held on to him as tightly as possible. No amount of crying was going to make me let go so he could run off and go somewhere he shouldn't. I felt I had things under control when all of a sudden I looked around to see the boys were missing. My eyes darted left and right as I tried to figure out where they had gone off to. My whole body started to shudder as the screams of a child started to rise up into the sky.

"Oh my God!" I screamed as I ran towards the boat. "Everyone stop!"

"Hold," MacDonell ordered. "What the hell just happened?" Quickly, our Governor started to walk from the front of the boat around to the back to find out where the noise was coming from.

"Oh, my son!" Mr. Docherty yelled. What have you done to yourself?" Near the back of the boat, Angus' left arm was pinned between two logs. He could not move, and he was crying uncontrollably. By his side, his father was bent over, trying to see if he could pull him free.

"Don't try to move him," commanded Doctor Edwards. "You may do more harm if you simply try to pull him loose." Moving closer, Doctor Edwards got on his knees to see what happened. As he was working on a solution to free the poor boy, he tried to calm him down with soothing words. "Angus, you are going to be alright, but we will need to move the boat back a little to free you. Young man, what was it you were trying to do?"

"All I wanted was to help a little. Please don't be mad Papa."

"Everything is going to be fine my boy," he said as calmly as he possibly could although his voice quivered slightly as he spoke. "Now be a good lad and do everything the doctor tells you to do."

"Angus," started Doctor Edwards, "You are going to have to hold very still while we push the boat back a little to free your arm. Do you think you can do that for me?" Angus nodded weakly.

Pulling the Doctor off to the side, Governor MacDonell asked, "So what is to become of this boy? Damn Selkirk for allowing women and children on this first voyage to Red River. Only men can make this trip safely."

"Governor," I started, shocked at myself for addressing Governor MacDonell directly, "I take responsibility for what has happened here to Angus Docherty. It is my job to look after the little ones, and I failed to keep the boys clear of the boat. This will never happen again sir." Governor MacDonell looked at me with both anger and surprise, yet I felt more still needed to be said. "I disagree with the idea women and children should not be on this voyage. Men have caused more disturbances than we have, and given the chance, you will one day see exactly how useful we can be."

I felt my father's hand on my shoulder, pulling me back a couple of feet. Everyone was quiet, surprised I would criticize something our leader said. I dare not look MacDonell directly in the eye, for fear he would strike me for being so disrespectful. Yet the opposite of what I expected happened. Taken by surprise at first, Governor MacDonell started to smile and then laugh. What I said was not a joke, but soon enough everyone was laughing except for me, Mr. Docherty, and of course Angus.

"Molly," Mr. MacDonell started, "I have heard from others about the type of person you are: a person not to be trifled with. Where does someone so young learn such boldness? Perhaps you are right. Women and children do serve a useful purpose. If anything, they can be here to keep the men in order. Come now Miss. Fraser, let's get back to the business before us and see what we can do to set little Mr. Docherty free."

Taking two ropes used to pull the boat through the forest, Doctor Edwards wrapped them tightly around each log that Angus' arm was wedged between. He gathered all the men close to him to give further instructions. "Men," Doctor Edwards commanded, "I will count to three and then we will very carefully lift the boat on this side a few inches from where it lies. We may only hold it for a few seconds at most, so those who are most able bodied should do the lifting. I'll also need two men on each log. Once the command is given to lift, they will need to pull both logs away from each other. Mr. Docherty and I will then carefully pull Angus to safety. Men, are there any questions?"

There was silence as everyone nodded impatiently. This had been one of the longest days so far on our river voyage, and everyone just wanted it to finish as soon as possible.

"All right men," yelled MacDonell authoritatively, "Let's get this done." Everyone got into position. Holding on to Calum in my arms, I also made sure Liam, tearful Liam, was well behind me out of harm's way. Poor Angus had his eyes closed, expecting the worst.

"One, two, three, lift men, give it all you've got." With a creak from the boat and several groans and grunts from everyone else, the vessel started to rise up off its log cart. "Now men, pull those logs away from that boy's arm." Although wedged in tightly, Angus' arm gave way very easily once the two logs were pulled apart. You would think he was happy to be free, but once he escaped his prison, he let out a yell that made me pull back a couple of paces. The accident didn't do any damage to his lungs.

On cue, everyone dropped what they were doing. The boat landed with a large thud back on the logs. "Be careful you bastards," Governor MacDonell angrily barked, "That boat has to take us much further up the river. Don't ever drop it again!"

Papa and Willie were tired, leaning up against the boat, trying to catch their breath. Doctor Edwards and Mr. Docherty were leaning over Angus, tending to his wounds. Amidst the yells, screams, and tears, I heard Doctor Edwards call me over.

Angus had a huge gash along his hand where he must have been scraped by a piece of bark. Ripping off part of his shirt, Doctor Edwards tried to stop the bleeding, but the wound was very deep, and his cloth started to turn red in his hands. A look of worry spread across his face.

"Molly," he said, "You will need to bring your brothers back to camp and get my small medical case. Do you know about the case I am talking about?"

I nodded.

"Good. We cannot move Angus yet until I have wrapped up his arm. Mr. Docherty, your son does have a break, and I will also have to see if I can stitch up this cut on his hand. God knows the last thing I want to do is to cauterize the wound." I could see he was thinking about what he had to do to stop Redden's stump of an arm from bleeding all over once he cut it off. It can stop infection, but the last thing poor Angus needs is hot metal searing his poor little hand. "Go on now Molly, hurry."

With my brothers in tow, I hurriedly ran through the forest to where Mama and Mrs. Docherty were. The smell of broth cooking over the fire made my mouth water, but this was not the time to think about food. "Mrs. Docherty," I stated, "You must come quick. Angus has had an accident. He is with Doctor Edwards and your husband. Mama, you'll have to mind the boys while I fetch the Doctor's medical case."

"What accident?" Mrs. Docherty exclaimed. "Is my poor boy going to be alright?"

"I don't know," I said honestly. "I think he may have a broken arm, so the Doctor does not want him moved until he can look after him properly."

"Oh my poor Angus," Mrs. Docherty started to cry. "What foolishness have you gotten yourself into? Take me to him, quickly now."

Picking up the medical case, Mrs. Docherty and I started to run through the forest back to the accident. As we got closer, we had to pass around the men, painfully slumped over, as they continued to move the boat through the forest back to the shore at the top of the waterfall. Once we got to Angus, Doctor Edwards had him sitting up, with his left arm carefully placed on his father's lap. Seeing us run so fast towards them, Doctor Edwards had to yell at us to be careful. "Ladies, hold up. I don't want Angus moved until I can tend to his wounded arm more carefully."

"Is he alright Doctor?" Angus' mother begged.

"Your son is a brave, strong lad Arwen. He will be fine, but the next few days are not going to be easy. A broken arm needs to be still to heal properly, and keeping him still is something we will not be able to do. Molly, bring the case over here please."

Dutifully, I brought the case over to Doctor Edwards as Mrs. Docherty sat next to her son and started to kiss his face wildly. Children are so precious, I thought to myself, but for Mrs. Docherty, Angus is the only child she has.

Wrapping his broken arm and wounded hand, Doctor Edwards helped the boy to his feet. Nestled between both of his parents, we slowly made the trip back to camp. Both boats were now in the water, and everyone had found a place to sit. Too tired to go for a swim, everyone just lazed around, with the sound of insects buzzing in the air the only thing to be heard. After some tea and broth, I helped Doctor Edwards suture the wound on Angus' hand. With each prick of the needle, he let out a little yelp of pain. I think Angus was even too tired to do much more than that.

Chapter 22

"What do they call that Lake, George?"

"Molly, it's called Lake Winnipeg. We're almost there, our new home in the wilderness."

"I can't see land on the other side. How large is it?"

"I don't know, but we'll need to stay close to the shore as we move along. It can be a stormy, dangerous place, yet if we stay close to land, the voyage should be safe enough."

Stormy? Dangerous? Could anything have been as bad as the past couple of weeks, portage after endless portage? Once we left York Factory, I remarked to Doctor Edwards that beauty and danger are sometimes mixed together. I did not think much of the conversation at the time, but each day along this river reminds me of those fateful words. Angus has been the only person hurt on this trip, yet everyone appears ragged and weary. If the gates of hell opened up and allowed men a rest in exchange for their soul, I am sure some on this expedition would take up the offer gladly.

"Molly?" George inquired, "Are you alright?" Moving close to me, he took my hand, letting our fingers intertwine.

"I'm alright George. I'm just tired. I hope we might stay here a while before we move on."

"I think we'll stay here at Norway House for at least a couple of days. There are some small repairs that have to be made to the York Boats, and even MacDonell knows a little rest is needed."

"That's good news." I drew closer to George and placed my head on his shoulder. "How much longer do you think it will take before we finally make it?"

"Poor Molly," George quipped, as he gently placed his arm around me. "Beyond this lake is Red River. Once we're at the mouth of the river, the settlement will be quite close. And once we finally get there, the true adventure can begin." George laughed, and I started to smile.

With the sound of crickets in the background, I became hypnotized by the sound of George's breathing. He seemed so calm, so strong and so at ease. He could not be much older than I was, yet in his young life he had already seen and done so much. It was these moments we shared together, privately, that have helped me so much to keep up my strength, my resolve in the face of so much pain my family has had to endure. As the sun set, we both lost track of the time resting in each others' innocent embrace. Just when I thought this scene could not be any more perfect, I heard laughter and giggling not ten feet behind where we stood.

Pulling away from George, I demanded, "Who is out there? Is that you Liam?"

Quietly, I received my reply: "There's no one here except for us crickets. Chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp..."

George started to laugh quietly to himself, which made me even more furious. "Liam Fraser, you get out of those bushes right now before I pull you out by the ears."

Giggling, Liam got up from his hiding place and presented himself to us. "Queen Molly," he began, "I am yours to command. What do the good queen and her king want from me?" I didn't like what he was saying, the silly little game he was playing, but Liam could not stop himself from laughing.

"Liam, what the hell are you doing, sneaking and spying on people? You know you should be with Mama back at camp." Such a perfect mood spoiled by my bratty little brother.

"Mama has asked for your majesty back at the camp. She may want to know a little about what you were doing out here with King George."

I started to feel ashamed, but being embarrassed was nothing compared to the anger I felt. "Come here my subject," I coyly said, pretending to play along with his silly little game. Once Liam was within reach, I took his ear and pulled his face close, making sure to use my nails as I pinched him.

"Molly, that hurts. What are you doing?"

"I'm your queen, and I command you to keep what you see here a secret. Do you understand?"

"Let go," he whimpered.

"Molly," George interrupted, "Let the poor boy go. Sooner or later someone in your family is going to find out how I feel about you."

"Mama already knows," I responded, "But the last thing I want is for Liam to start making a joke about how I feel too. Do you hear me Liam?"

"I'd hear you better if you let go of my ear."

I let go of my little brother, and he immediately reached up and started to rub where I had pinched him. Feeling I may have been a bit too mean, I decided to take it a little easier on him. "Liam, I'm sorry I pinched your ear a little too hard, but you startled me, and I'm in no mood to play games."

"But ever since Angus broke his arm he has not been any fun."

"Do you blame him? Anyone of us with a bad arm would probably want to take it a little easy. But that is not the point right now. The point is this: you are not going to start opening your mouth about what you've seen. If you do, you'll get pinched ears and a smack across the head. Do you understand?"

"Yes Molly, I understand."

"Now let's go back to camp with everyone else," I ordered. As Liam turned around, I looked at George who gave me a little smile. He didn't have family who worried about what he did, but being a boy, it probably did not matter too much anyway. Luckily, he is liked by everyone, but who knows what Papa and Willie might think if they knew George and I cared for each other.

Back at camp, everyone was in good spirits. MacDonell had given the word we would stay a day to rest for the final leg of our journey. To celebrate our progress, bottles were passed around, and men were taking long drinks.

"Not so much," Papa demanded of Willie. "There's more than enough to go around."

"Whisky never tasted so good," my uncle responded. "The pain in my neck and back is god awful, but the pain in my arse is something much, much worse." Laughing to himself, he took another, drops of liquor dribbling down his chin.

"Ah yes," Mr. Docherty replied. "I too have a pain in my arse, but not always from sitting. Young William, have you not enjoyed our time together floating down the river?" Mr. Docherty turned and gave me a wink. He wanted to get my uncle going.

"I've seen the way you handle an oar," Willie retorted. "I think the word floating just about says how you handle yourself Robert."

"Is that you or the whisky talking Willie? I've also had a good eye for how you've handled the boat. I keep thinking to myself, is this a Fraser from the Highlands or an Irishman who sits near me every day?"

"Careful there Robert, or you'll see how much like the Irish I can be." Getting up from his seat, Willie made his way over to Mr. Docherty, looking like he would knock him down where he stood. Papa moved in to stop something that could have gone bad in the flash of an eye.

"Willie, calm down. Sit and take another sip of your bottle, and don't mind yourself about Robert. All men on our York boat have handled themselves well. How many portages have we been through since this journey started? Twenty? Thirty perhaps? Each one bleeds into the other like a nightmare unwilling to end. Sore arse, sore legs, sore arms... Is there not any part of us that does not feel pain? A better question is where don't you feel pain?"

"I would say my head, except for the mosquitoes that buzz around it all the time and the pinches from my older sister," Liam quipped.

"If you keep talking, you will find even more pain than the occasional bite or pinch," I responded.

"Now Molly," began Papa. "I know your brother can be a handful, and you have done well taking care of him and the others. But don't start talking like you have been drinking too."

"Yes Papa, I'm sorry. Perhaps I need to go to bed now. I do feel awful tired." All of a sudden a wave of sleepiness hit me.

Papa came close to me, and, giving me a hug, whispered his love for me in no uncertain terms. Saying goodnight to all by the fire, I retired to my tent where I almost collapsed to the ground. As I lay quietly, waiting for sleep, I overheard the laughter and voices of the men outside. Gone was the anger from before and in its place were the sounds of friendship, the kind of friendship experienced by men who have travelled and endured so much together. I started to laugh at how silly I was to get so angry about my brother. Surely I have been through enough to not let something so small become so large.

Chapter 23

"The drifting man, the man always moving, is quite common in literature," started Doctor Edwards, making conversation while rowing close to the shore. "Think about your Bible stories in fact. When Abraham's wife finally gave birth to a son, Isaac, it made his other bastard son Ishmael not needed or wanted. Ishmael was cast aside, made to drift through the world like a free roving nomad, while Isaac became a man settled. What have we been these many months but the kin of Ishmael, forced to wander this cold land in search of our settlement? Yet, in time, we will live the life we are working towards, the life of Isaac, a life of contentment and peace."

"You mean the life we left in Scotland?" snorted my uncle, suffering from a hangover. The entire time we spent at the Norway House fort, a bottle was always grasped in his hand with the open end continually pressed to his lips.

"Ahh William," you have much to be mad about, but remember where we are going we will be free. The land is Selkirk's to ration out as he sees fit, and he has seen fit to give a portion to you and your kin. There will be no landlords here who will force you out of your homes in the name of profit."

"What of the fur traders from the North West?" Mr. Docherty asked, joining the conversation. "Are we not putting up roots on land others use to trap buffalo? Are we not acting like Isaac in a land God has seen fit to give to Ishmael, for are not fur traders nothing more than wandering nomads?"

"An excellent, well phrased, question Robert," Doctor Edwards exclaimed. "The men of the North West Company do roam through these lands, but MacDonnell has been assured safe passage and settlement for all those who have been sponsored by Lord Selkirk. The grant of land he has been given is quite large, more than enough for all men, both Isaac and Ishmael, to share equally."

Everyone is excited being so close to the settlement. I can't wait to leave the York Boat behind in exchange for a wooded hut on land that does not move with the pitch of the waves and whims of the wind.

"Are you alright Molly?" my mother asked. "You look like you are dreaming with your eyes open."

"I'm fine," I replied. "I guess I'm anxious to finally be done with the travel once and for all. I want to make Red River a new Highland."

"I know what you mean. All we have known for so long is movement, the anticipation of what lay in store for us. I would be lying if I did not also admit how nervous I am about ending this journey. We have worked so hard, but I think even greater challenges lay ahead for this family. Doctor Edwards can talk all he wants about stories from the Bible, but it is the family Fraser that concerns me."

"Me too," I replied as I grabbed my mother's hand to give it a little squeeze.

We sat in silence as the scenery floated by quietly and softly. To my left, the banks of the lake sloped gently up, and the trees covering the landscape were green and thick with leaves. Like most days, the sky opened up to a fantastic blue, with only little wisps of cloud seen far off in the distance. To my right there was nothing but a great expanse of water, as far as the eye can see. This part of the journey along Lake Winnipeg reminded me of our ocean travel, which now seems like a lifetime ago. On this day, thankfully, the water is still, but I will not be fooled by it. We hug the coastline for a reason. If at any point the wind picks up the York Boat can easily make shore while a tempest passes by. Everyone knows this as we creep along, making it to the final leg of the journey.

"Look ahead," exclaimed Doctor Edwards. "We have now reached the mouth of the Red River, the final distance to cross before finishing at our settlement."

"Tis a fine sight indeed," my father yelled.

"Look at MacDonnell's boat," Willie commented. "You would think the journey was finally over."

The men of MacDonnell's boat were attempting to lift their oars into the air as a sign of celebration. Although I could not see the expressions on their faces from this distance, I could swear one or two of them had flasks in their hands, making a toast towards the sky. Thankfully, that kind of a celebration was not happening on our boat.

Pulling the boats ashore, everyone was in a joyful mood. There was a sense of anticipation in the air, thicker than any horde of mosquitoes. We were almost there, and this led men once again to the bottle- any excuse to drink.

"Congratulations to all," bellowed MacDonnell who found a large boulder to stand on to address wearied, yet contented colonists. "We are but one day's journey from our promised land. Passing the mouth of the Red River, I would say we are but fifteen leagues from where the Red and Assiniboine create a fork. We have spent many days travelling together, and soon you will see that all of your efforts, all of your exertions, will be worth it. Further up the river, there is but one more portage to make, but compared to what we have been through, this is simply a mere nuisance before we reach our final home."

"I for one will be glad to finally settle," MacDonnell continued. "Fifty four days journey from York Factory is quite enough. Once we reach our settlement, provisions of farm tools and pemmican will be provided for all."

"Excuse me sir," Mr. Docherty interrupted, "But some of us do not know what this pemmican is you are talking about."

"Ah, quite right. We have had discussions on our boat, but the news has not passed on to others. Pemmican is the food of this land, one of the many things collected and traded by the North West Company. It is the food of the natives in the area, made by the meat of Buffalo. It can be stored for long periods of time, and its consumption can assist in keeping a person alert."

"I hope this food is a little better than Spruce beer," my uncle exclaimed to the assembled crowd.

"Fraser, you always seem to find a way to dampen my spirits," MacDonell responded, clearly annoyed with the comment. "With fish from the river and our own provisions, there should be no need for us to make a natural tea this winter. As for the taste of pemmican, it is a dry meat, tough to bite into, but also mixed with dried berries to help with the taste. It has been quite a while since I last ate it, and I am looking forward to it. That's enough, however, of these foolish questions and comments. We will make our camp here for the evening, and look forward to our final day on the river. You are the first, but not the last, to settle in this area. History will look upon your adventure and deem it worthy of story and of song."

I let those last words sink in for a while. I knew we were doing something special, but worthy of song? A story others would tell their children in the same way Papa used to tell stories to Liam and I when we were younger? Until this moment, the thought had never even crossed my mind. Yet, with everything that has happened to me, all the sadness and all of the joy, perhaps a character in a story was not a strange idea. I just pray and hope the story will have a happy ending...

The next morning, everyone seemed a little more excited than usual. Angus, who still could not move very well with his broken arm, appeared to be in very high spirits. Calum, who has passed his first year, follows his older brother everywhere as well, babbling to himself and pointing in all directions at once. The three of them make a welcome site, as long as they stay out of the way.

Storm clouds appeared off in the distance, but even the threat of rain could not dampen the general mood. Yes, people all around me, including myself, are exhausted beyond all measure, but knowing we can soon put the oars away in exchange for farm implements makes all, especially the Highlanders among us, particularly grateful.

About two hours into our final journey, Mr. Bethune pulled out his bagpipes and started to play. The current was strong, and it did not require the exertions of all the men to make fast headway down the river. Soon, everyone started to join in song. Some songs I was not very familiar with, like Fair Edina or Highland Mary, but when Mr. Bethune started to play Scotland the Brave, even I could not stop myself from singing the very recognizable words:

Towering in gallant fame,

Scotland my mountain home,

High may your proud standards gloriously wave,

Land of my high endeavour,

Land of the shining river,

Land of my heart for ever,

Scotland the brave.

Were those tears in my Mama's eyes, I wondered? Were they tears of happiness knowing the voyage was over, or tears of sadness for everything she has sacrificed? Placing my hand on her shoulder, she grabbed it and started to squeeze gently as she tried to control her tears. I once again realized how much Mama had sacrificed to make this trip, how much her love for us outweighed her strong and undying love for her homeland. To men who love to explore and discover, to always be moving, they could not understand the need to stay grounded in one place, the importance to stay connected to the land.

Mr. Bethune stood at the front of the boat and continued to play, the sound lofting high into the air, carried on the warm breeze. He had put on a kilt, and was wearing the banner of his family proudly as we came in for our landing. The men rowed in time to the playing, using their oars as if marching to the tune. The land all around did not look different, nothing but wilderness, trees, and grass, but this I knew was an important moment. The need for change had brought us here, away from our croft, away from the city, away from the other side of the world. Everyone felt the importance of the moment. Coming close to the shore, the men stopped to let the current take us in. There was not a dry eye among us. Even Liam and Calum, who would at all times fidget and move from side to side, sat still in quiet respect for the end of this pilgrimage.

It took Moses close to forty years to find a home for his people when they fled Egypt. In truth, our journey from Stornoway has only been about a year, but I am sure some of our experiences match what happened to Moses and his people. They were able to make a life for themselves once they finally stopped moving through the desert. As our boat made its stop along the shore, I said a small prayer to myself hoping for the same good fortune.

Chapter 24

For the Highlander, the task of settling should be a simple enough thing to do. Once you have your plot of land, you ready your axe and cut down logs to make a dwelling. Children explore the land. They pick the flowers, sample some of the native fruit, and chase the wild animals like gophers and grouse. Women ready the kitchen, making sure all are fed and contented. To the Highlander, sturdy of arm and mind, settling is as natural as light mist on a cool Scottish morning.

As we disembarked from our York boats for the final time, I could feel this confidence in Highland strength quickly fade. The moment was emotional for all, from relief to sadness. We had finally made it, but at a tremendous cost. The voyage over the ocean was wretched, the winter at the Nelson Encampment was cold and dreary, and the last fifty days spent on the river was a constant hardship of rowing and portages. As the men dragged the boat through the shallow water, the toll of so many months was obvious. I could not see the pain I felt in my father's eyes.

"I could kiss the ground," Papa said to me as we pulled the boat to the shore.

"Are you that happy to be here?" I said to him rather coldly.

"Molly, we all made it. We've been to hell and back and we are finally here. Maybe I should forget about the ground and just kiss you instead."

Papa let go of the boat, picked me up and twirled me around so fast I started to get dizzy. We were still in a bit of water, so as I kicked my feet I started to splash those around me. "Oh Papa," I giggled, "Stop it. I'm not a little girl anymore."

"Molly, no matter how old you are, you will always be my little lass. I know you are growing up. I see the way Mr. Cooper looks and talks to you. Don't worry, he's a good lad as far as I can tell. I won't cause any trouble."

"Papa, I ..."

"Now, now, let's start unloading what we have here and find out from Mr. MacDonnell where we are going to set up camp."

We cleared the York boat completely and pitched our tents on the east side of the river. There were no dwellings set up for our arrival, no people here to welcome us with song and good cheer. On the opposite side of the river, however, was a trading post of the North West Company called Fort Gibraltar. The men on that side of the river were not happy about our arrival. I remember that time in Stornoway when we were warned about what the response to our presence would be. Soon, we will find out if we will be welcomed as neighbours or shunned as intruders...

After helping Mama clean up after dinner, I went for a walk along the river to clear my head. Finding a suitable spot far enough away from the chatter of the camp, I laid down on the sand to watch the stars in the sky. The moon was full, and it was not too difficult to see the shape of the land along the horizon.

Suddenly I heard a familiar voice coming from behind me. "Am I disturbing you Molly?" asked George as he came close.

"No George," I replied. "All I want is to get away from everyone for a while and just enjoy the quiet."

"Would you like me to leave and go back to camp?" he asked with a tinge of sadness in his voice.

"No, of course not. There is a space for you right here beside me."

Settling down in the grass, I could feel the warmth of his body next to mine. I was overcome by a desire to kiss him where he lay. I could sense he shared the same feelings, for as soon as he lay down beside me, I could feel his hand searching for my own.

"The sky seems so peaceful tonight George," I said quietly as I gave his hand a playful squeeze.

"I hope we can have this calm weather for a while. When the thunderstorms hit these parts, they can be as bad as what we felt when we crossed the ocean."

My mind drifted back to how awful that night was, most likely one of the worst nights of the whole trip. The constant movement of the boat was bad enough, and the death of poor Isabella McIntyre was terrible. What sadness her widowed husband must carry in his heart.

"Are we going to find peace here George?" I asked as I moved my body closer to his.

"Ah Molly, I hope so, and not simply for my own sake. My wish is to help you and your family and hopefully earn my own living so I can provide."

"Provide for what?"

"A family of my own of course." George turned his body so that our faces were mere inches apart. Through the darkness, I could make out the tenderness in his eyes and the rugged handsomeness of his appearance. As he moved to kiss me, I closed my eyes and returned his embrace with equal feeling.

"So what is this?" a familiar voice spoke as it moved towards us. "My niece and the good Mr. Cooper? Perhaps not so good by what I see!"

"Uncle Willie," I stammered as I jumped up from off the ground, "It's not what it appears to be at all."

"And what exactly should it appear to be?" he asked, slurring his speech in the process. I knew he had been drinking, and I hoped his mood was less confrontational than normal.

"Your niece and I have had feelings for a while now," George started. "We have kept it from everyone so as not to disrupt your family from the more important purpose of making it safely to Red River."

"And now that we are here, you think you can just do as you damn well please? We Frasers have more respect for our kin than you can possibly know. You back off from Molly right now, or by God I will take it out on you with my fists. It seems to me a good scrap might be just what this Fraser needs to make this land feel more like home."

By now, I was completely enraged by my drunken uncle. "You will not lay a hand on George," I screamed, "Or by everything I hold dear you will hear from my fists." Both George and Willie seemed to be struck dumb. "I've put up with a lot on this trip, and like Mama, I have suffered in silence for far too long." I was just getting started, but as soon as I opened my mouth again, I was silenced by a noise that cut through the night. We could all hear a musket shot in the distance and the gallop of horses fast approaching.

"What is that?" I yelled, forgetting for a moment what I was so mad about.

"What the hell do we have here?" my uncle chimed in. "Cooper, you and I can take up this argument later, but now it looks like we'll have to say hello to some visitors."

With the full moon, the night was clear enough to see five riders approaching from the distance. They were in a line as they rode towards us. Two of them had only one hand on the reins, the other hand lifting a large object over the head, most likely a musket. Frightened, I immediately moved behind George, who also made sure to put himself in harm's way.

We were a good distance from the main camp. The fire that was burning there did not look large at all. I looked at George and my uncle, thinking we should run to the safety of that fire, but before I could speak the men were upon us. Two of them slowed down to confront us, while the others made their way to MacDonnell and the rest of the settlers.

I could not quite believe what I was looking at. These men were something I had never seen before. They were dressed in a very strange way, most likely in the fashion of this country. At York Factory, the natives were mostly wrapped in fur, which eventually was something we did as well, but these men were hardly dressed at all. The only item slung across their chest was a pouch, and their pants were made of loose, tanned animal skin. Yet, it was their face I found most distressing. They had markings covering their cheeks; even in the dark I could tell that streaks of white, blue, and red covered their face, and on their heads were arranged a number of feathers. Giving the reins to his companion, the man closest to us dismounted. Holding his musket in front of him with both hands, he started to yell at us violently.

"Etranger, etranger, etranger!" He kept repeating this strange word while holding his gun high and shaking it in the air.

"Now hold on," my uncle yelled, as he raised both hands in front of him to show we were not armed, and not dangerous. "We've just made it to this land only a little time ago, and no man, woman, or child among us is looking for any kind of trouble."

"Vous êtes pas les bienvenus! Aller maintenant!" the man yelled as he continued to walk slowly towards us with his gun stretched out in front of him.

"They are Metis," George whispered to me.

"What are they saying?" I whispered back.

"I don't know exactly, but I'm sure it's not to say hello."

"Listen," my uncle insisted. "We are not here to cause you any trouble, but if you think we are going to just leave because you are waving a gun in the air, then you are going to have to think again." This time, it was my uncle, full of alcohol and confidence, who was moving towards the Metis. "I've seen men like you before, all high and mighty with a gun in your hand. But do you have what it truly takes to point that thing at me and pull the trigger?"

"Uncle, you don't know what he is capable of," I pleaded.

"Mind your own Molly. George," my uncle commanded not looking back at us, "Make sure she does not get hurt if this man decides to do something foolish. Do you hear me?"

"Yes Willie," George replied.

"Good then. Now where was I? Ah yes, it just don't seem like a fair fight, the two of you with your muskets against me."

"Me too," demanded George, not wanting to be left out.

"Stay out of this one George. You have more important things to take care of." My uncle took a deep breath and continued to challenge the Metis. "That paint on your face doesn't frighten me one bit. As far as I see it, you are probably trying to hide something with all that paint and all of those feathers. Maybe it's your fear."

Sensing my uncle was someone this native could not bully so easily, he started to take a step back towards his companion.

"Vous êtes pas les bienvenus! Aller maintenant!" he shouted again. These words were meant to be menacing, but they did not have the desired effect. Taking his eyes off my uncle for a split second, the Metis turned around to look at his companion. That was all my uncle needed to lunge forward and tackle him to the ground.

Through the darkness, you could hear the heavy breathing of a tussle as both men tried to lay claim to the gun. The second Metis jumped off his horse, only to be met by George who left my side. Although young, George had the strength of ten grown men as he wrestled the second man to the ground and start to strike blows to his face and chest.

My uncle pulled the gun from his assailant's hands and threw it away. He didn't need the musket: he would say hello using his fists only. The gun fell a few feet away from me, and Willie had his man pinned to the ground.

I quickly picked up the gun lying at my feet. I don't know if it was loaded, but at that moment, I didn't care to find out. Pointing it in the air, I pulled the trigger. It let out a loud shot that startled me and everyone else. There were yells in the distance as some of the settlers came running towards us.

"Get up all of you," I commanded.

Taken by surprise, everyone simply stopped fighting and got up where they stood. Not to be completely outdone, my uncle punched his victim in the stomach once more.

Papa came running up to me, along with Doctor Edwards and Mr. Docherty. "Molly," Papa pleaded, "Give me the gun. Willie, George, let go of those strangers and come back to camp with us immediately."

I dutifully obeyed Papa and gave him the smoking musket still in my hands. There were so many things in the wilderness I had no idea I could do. Shooting a gun was certainly one of them.

"Quitter maintenant!" Doctor Edwards ordered, as he took the gun from Papa and threw it back to the man George had attacked with such energy. We could hear the horses of the other three Metis returning. Not waiting for their companions, the other three rode past as quickly as they had come. It did not take too long for the other two to join their companions and escape back to Fort Gibraltar.

"Miss. Fraser continues to surprise," Doctor Edwards said as we slowly made our way back to camp. "I have yet to encounter a woman who can do things normally set out for a man. It is truly a remarkable thing."

Thankfully, it was dark enough so no one could see how red my cheeks were by the doctor's compliment.

"Mr. MacDonell did not want to upset any of you, but this kind of reception was expected."

"Is this how we are going to be treated every day?" Papa angrily asked.

"These men were sent by the North Western fur traders from Fort Gibraltar to give us a little scare. We've seen this before. Not everyone is happy with this little plan as you well know. Yet, from what I can see, we gave them a good scare instead."

"I did not come all this way to be forced back by a few ugly buggers wearing feathers and face paint," Uncle Willie drunkenly responded.

"Ah William," Doctor Edwards admiringly said, "Is there nothing you fear in this world?"

Thinking about this for a moment, Willie responded "Only an empty bottle!"

"Excellent answer! Let's make sure you receive a full one on return to camp. No doubt your warm welcome of the natives of this country has given you quite a thirst?"

"I'm sure I'll be thirsty in this land a lot."

Back at camp, we could see all of the settlers huddled around Governor MacDonell. Standing on a boulder above everyone, he was trying to answer all of the questions quickly coming at him.

"I thought this land belonged to Lord Selkirk?" a loud voice angrily asked.

"Correct," MacDonell impatiently replied. "A huge tract of land has been given to us for the purposes of settlement. You all are aware of this, so it is pointless to ask about it."

"But what of these Metis?" Mr. Docherty yelled as we approached the others. "Are they here to harass us as we try to establish our homes? Will we not find peace in this land?"

"Peace is coming Doherty! We have only just arrived here, and already our presence is being felt. The fur traders know there is nothing they can do, so instead they force a few natives on us to make us afraid. Come now everyone. Do you think for one minute I or anyone of us present here will cower in fear from this tactic of the Nor'Westers? Think of all we have accomplished together over these many months. I for one will not let a small band of Metis ruin the sense of accomplishment, of travelling so far and enduring such hardship. Take a rest, my weary Scots and Irish! Do not be alarmed by this brash reception."

While he was giving his little speech, I moved in close to Mama who immediately put Calum down to give me a hug.

"Child," she whispered, "What happened out there? We heard a gunshot and your Papa went running like the wind."

"Willie and George were fighting two of the Metis who confronted us," I responded. "The gun came to me, and something made me fire."

"My God," Mama squeaked. "What would make you want to do something like that?"

"Mama," I said calmly, looking her straight in the eye. "I think we need to start acting differently here. MacDonell wants a new Highland, but I'm starting to think if we are in Canada, then Canadian we have to become. I know you think the same way. We are both Fraser women after all? I swear to you now, if anyone I love is being threatened, then I will come to their defence, even if it means using the point of a blade or the barrel of a gun."

Mama took my head and gently placed it in her hands. By the light of the fire burning close by, I could see the small stream of tears gliding down her cheeks. She did not say anything, nor was it necessary for her to speak. Her daughter is growing up too fast on this adventure, and although she is clearly happy at the woman I have become, she still worries. I have done things I did not know I was capable of, said things no woman should be heard speaking. Yet in this land, these things seem right. This is a new life, and new rules need to be written. Tears of joy possibly, but also tears of sadness for the challenges that lay ahead and what I might do to meet them.

"Let's go to sleep," I said softly, taking Mama's hand from under my cheek and directing her to our shelter. She called out to Calum who took her other hand and dutifully followed us.

"This has been a most eventful day," she said as we lay down together to go to sleep.

"The first of many I suspect," I replied as I closed my eyes and dreamt about the kiss I shared with George. I could not seem to take the smile off my face as I quietly fell asleep.

Chapter 25

We did not stay long at the forks. Quickly after raising the flag and claiming this land for Lord Selkirk and The Hudson's Bay, we packed our things and made our way to a winter camp miles away. On the morning of September 6th, Governor MacDonell called us together to give us the news.

"I know many of you, myself included, expected a settlement and provisions to help make it through the winter. Events, unfortunately, have not transpired in the way I would have liked. Yet, in the midst of this crisis, opportunity does present itself. These past two days, I have spent time surveying the land up and down the river, trying to find a good spot to build our settlement."

"What say you?" interrupted my father, clearly angry. "Have you found a place where we can go and do what we came here to do?"

"Fraser," MacDonell responded, "You need to mind your place and let me finish. As I was saying, I have had a good chance to look over this land, and I have found the ideal spot where we will build our fort and a settlement surrounding it. A few miles below the forks, there is an extensive plot of land through which fire has run and destroyed all trees, leaving just burnt wood and weeds. The land is elevated and level, and it is at a vantage point that can allow a man to see for miles in all directions. We will build here, and call the building Fort Douglas after our great benefactor Lord Selkirk."

"Well, that's something at least," I could hear my father quietly muttering to himself.

"Only a half dozen men will help to clear the land and sow the winter wheat. Mr. Hillier will stay with them to help with the trade of fish and meat with the local natives."

"And the rest of us?" Papa demanded.

"The rest of you...," MacDonell started, clearly straining to say what he knew he must, "The rest of you will make your way to a winter camp up the Red River, some sixty miles from the forks. With gifts from the Bay, I have acquired the services of the local natives, the Saulteaux Indians, who will escort you to their settlement, Pembina."

There was an uproar from the assembled crowd. I could see looks of confusion and anger on the faces of those around me. We just got here, and now we had to leave.

"Why can we not stay and help with the building of the fort?" one of the men shouted overtop the voices of others.

Lifting up his hands, MacDonell quieted the crowd. "I am entrusted with your care. The winter on the plains can be as cold and terrible as York Factory. The season is late, and although it is warm now, the cold comes quickly, making the care and comfort of everyone both difficult and desperate. Pembina is a settlement comprised of natives and French half-breeds, and it is on the buffalo migration route. Living with people who are familiar with the challenges of this land will enable everyone to stay safe and secure as we prepare our settlement for the coming spring."

"Are we putting the boats back in the water to make our way to Pembina?" Mr. Docherty asked.

"You will be escorted on land by the natives who live at the settlement," the Governor responded. "A half dozen men who have already been chosen will stay behind to help with the preparations for our settlement. The rest of you will make for Pembina to spend the winter."

Not far from where I stood I could see George staring at the ground. I did not need to look at his face to understand he was one of the men chosen to stay behind with Mr. Hillier. I knew he would want to accompany me to Pembina, but he is a young man who needs to make a name. Besides, he could not refuse an order from MacDonell to stay behind.

"I suggest you all gather your possessions," concluded the Governor, "Since we will be leaving for Pembina after the mid day meal."

Grumbling and upset, all the colonists moved towards their tents to take them down and prepare for departure. I did not leave right away: I wanted to say goodbye to George. He kept in the same position: standing still with his head tilted and his eyes focussed on the ground in front of him.

"George," I said quietly, "Let's take a small walk together by the river."

"I'd like that," he replied.

"When I was a young girl, I did not have a care in the world. I knew my parents loved me, and there was nothing they wouldn't do to protect me. That's probably why I took so many risks, doing things a boy would probably do, since I knew no harm could come to me."

"I wish I could say the same. Life has always been a struggle, but at the same time it has been an adventure. As a ship's boy, I've seen things that can warm the soul as well as chill the blood. There was a time when I experienced a parent's love, the love of my mother since I never knew my father, but that was such a long time ago I have forgotten the feeling."

"A man should not go through life without having that same love he received when he was an infant in his mother's arms." I stopped and turned George around so that our faces were practically touching each other. I could feel his warm breath on my neck as I pulled him towards me. "I know you must stay behind," I gently whispered, "And though I wish it was not so, I have no doubt we will meet again quickly, and then never leave each other."

"I hope for the same Molly. I'm a Bayman, and I must do as commanded, but there are times I wish I could be my own man and venture forth where my heart desires."

"In time this will happen, with me at your side." I could feel George shudder slightly as I tightly held him. I knew we were saying goodbye, but only for a short time. As I pulled back, I took my hands and cradled his head gently. He looked sweet as tears streamed down his cheeks. As our lips touched, I knew deep in my breast this was the man I wanted to marry. We may be parted for a short time, but soon we would be connected by a bond that would last forever.

We made quite a spectacle as our caravan pulled out towards Pembina. Our leader, our Moses in the wilderness, did not accompany us as we assembled to leave. The few Indians who acted as guides quietly rode on horses as we trudged along through fields of windswept grass. Most people kept to themselves on that first day, lost in thoughts both dark and dreary. Only the boys could find any sport in what we were doing, and their games made our guides quietly smile and laugh. Calum, although a toddler, has started to move quickly, chasing after Liam and Angus at every turn.

The Natives, though nice enough, keep to themselves, only turning slightly to stare at each other, then stare at us, and laugh. If they talk to us, it has to do with something they want. I was warned not to give them anything I held dear to my heart, since the natives have a loose association with items they possess. One of the Irish had a beautiful knife a Saulteaux wanted to see, and when it was given for a closer examination, the knife was put in the native's belt with not a thought for the owner. Eventually, it was given back to its rightful owner, but not after many objections and a final threat of violence.

On the second day of our journey my uncle finally had enough. He gets angry so fast, and it was only a matter of time before he would blow.

"What are you looking at?" he yelled at one of the natives who had his eye fixed on my mother. The native looked at him, smiled and laughed, and all this did was make Willie angrier. He made his way beside this native, grabbed the reigns of the horse to stop its movements, and continued to ask his questions.

"I know we don't understand each other, but you're looking at my sister-in-law too much," he pointed in Mama's direction, "And I want to know why?"

The native gestured towards one of his fingers, and then pointed towards Mama. He was interested in the ring on her finger, and he wanted a closer look at it.

"He's interested in her wedding band Willie," I said as I cautiously approached.

"Aye," Willie replied as he held up his hand to stop me from coming any closer. "Too often these natives ask to see things they have no business seeing."

Turning his attention back to the native on horseback, Willie pushed things further. Pointing to his own finger, he continued to make fun. "So I see it's the ring on her finger you want to look at." The Indian continued to nod and smile as some of his companions, recognizing possible trouble, started to approach. "I don't wear a ring, but if you give me a chance, I'll let you have a closer look at my hand." Without a moment's hesitation, Willie grabbed the man to pull him off his mount. The native kept his wits and his balance: he would not be pulled off his horse except through an extreme feat of strength. As the two men started to tussle, others came close, but no one tried to break it up. This was a diversion everyone needed on this dreary march.

The fight started to unsettle the native's horse. Yet with his feet held firmly within the stirrups, there was no possible way Willie could unseat his opponent. The horse and the two men started moving around in tight circles. At times, the horse moved so fast it lifted Willie's legs from the ground, yet for all that force he would not let go. Things started to look grim, yet there was still not one person that either came to his aid or helped in the attack. The native started to pummel my uncle's head, with loud cries and laughter lifting up to the sky as he did so. Just when it looked like Willie would be beaten into submission, a gunshot made the horse jump up on its hind legs, knocking my uncle to the ground and throwing the native from his ride.

"Stop this at once!" It was the familiar voice of Dr. Edwards who was running from the front of our caravan. "Get off your ass William. What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"My brother was defending my wife," Papa said, moving towards Willie to finally offer him some assistance. As he pulled him up off the ground, a native walking slowly towards us who I had not seen before. He had a very large head dress with feathers, and he appeared important. Pointing at some of the natives present, this man made it clear he was in charge and not impressed.

Standing up, my uncle still had his fists clenched, ready to take on anyone who dared to get in his way. "These bloody Indians take from us and then laugh in our face Edwards. What do you expect me to do when one of them eyes my sister's jewellery like it's something they already own?"

"You get yourself under control William, or you'll be the ruin of us all. These natives do not have to take us anywhere, and yet here we are, at their mercy in our land which is really their land. And what do you do? You bring your ideas, your opinions, your anger to a people you know very little about. We're spending the winter, and we are going to survive not because you are a good fighter. We're going to survive because of the man who will help us and teach us to live here. None of you have met Peguis yet, but he is the leader of these people, the Saulteaux, and it is his responsibility to see that we make it through another winter so we can finally claim what is rightfully ours. Get your head out of your ass and understand the bigger picture."

"I understand the bigger picture all too well Doctor," my uncle responded. "Do you know what that picture looks like? No! You've been a traveller before, and strange lands, strange foods, and strange ways do not seem to concern you. Well, I know we have to follow these folks, but I damn well don't have to like it. I'm a mad Scot in a foreign land; I'm a Fraser from the Highlands across the great ocean. I will not be defeated, nor will I let any man take from my family."

"Willie," Papa placed his hand on my uncle's shoulder. "Calm yourself."

"Take your bloody hand off me John," Willie yelled as he pushed Papa aside. "You are too quiet for your own good. You are the head of this family, but you don't have the anger for the job."

"Will," Mama finally had enough and stepped in between the two brothers. "Look at me Will," she softly spoke as she got close to him. "Poor Will. You should be married with children running through your legs. Like us, you should be back home, working on the farm and making a name for yourself in Argyll. Willie, there are some things you have to let go. You don't have to like these natives who are taking us in, but you do have to respect them. What else can we do brother?"

"We can be proud..."

"We are proud. Don't you ever think differently." Mama held Willie by the shoulders and gave him a hug; the kind of embrace a mother gives a child to soothe them. Pulling back, she pushed the hair out of his eyes. His right eye was bruised and swollen. Rubbing his cheek, she looked at him with a mix of respect and pity. "Walk ahead of us to clear your head. I love you so much, and I don't want your anger to consume you." Nodding, Willie turned around and started to walk towards the front of the caravan.

Sighing in relief, Dr. Edwards followed behind Willie to take his place in our parade of suffering. The native who was thrown from his horse was helped back on to his mount, while Peguis simply stood and stared at my mother. After a few moments he approached Mama, and gave her a feather that he pulled from his head dress. Surprised by the gift, Mama took the feather from his hand and gave him a small bow in thanks. Grunting his approval, Peguis turned around and quickly left from where he came.

"Why do you think he gave you that?" I asked

"I don't know Molly, but I think we will do well by him. He seems to be a native worthy of respect, and he will not take too kindly to men upsetting the order of things. For God's sake, why does your uncle always have to be such a hot head? Being a Fraser is never boring."

I laughed as we once again started the slow march towards Pembina. I let my hands fall to the side to feel the blades of long grass as they gently swayed in rhythm with the wind. With so many miles still to cover, I closed my eyes and tried to remember the greatness of my home, the softness of my bed in our croft _._

"What are you thinking about?" Mama asked.

"I miss Scotland, yet much of this land reminds me of home, and a home is what I will turn it into."

"Wise words for a girl beyond your years," Mama whispered as she grabbed my hand to walk beside me for a while.

Chapter 26

We are not the only people to be transported here from across the ocean. Though we were the first to come to this land, we have not been the last. Now there are more people to share our suffering with.

Life has been fairly comfortable in Pembina since we first arrived here in the middle of September. It took a while to adjust to different faces and different customs, but the people of this settlement have been eager to help us learn their ways. The main source of food is buffalo, and both my mother and I have been taught how to cook rubaboo, a stew made using corn, grease, pemmican, and maple sugar. It has a fairly odd taste, but it's not the worst thing I have had in this land. I hope we are not forced once again to drink that awful spruce bark tea to keep the scurvy away.

The people we see come and go from this settlement are quite varied. Most at Pembina are Saulteaux natives, but this settlement will sometimes house Metis and Nor'westers who follow the buffalo along their migration paths. All people look at us with curiosity and bewilderment, since we are the foreigners in this land. We want to build settlements, while most of the people in the area move as the buffalo move.

No sooner did we arrive that MacDonell had the men build a storehouse on the south side of the Pembina River where it meets the Red River. With further directions to construct several other buildings, MacDonell left almost immediately to see how construction at Fort Douglas was proceeding.

On the 27th of October, we were all surprised to see a second group of colonists arrive. Led by a man named Owen Keveny, most of these people were Irish with many women and children. This second group of colonists left Stornoway at the end of June, and they were lucky enough to cross the ocean fast. This group only had to spend a week at York Factory before making the trek of endless portages through the wild.

It took some time for our group to welcome and accept the recent arrivals. Although our stories are similar, there is still a sense of distrust because we did not share the same experiences. Only the boys, as children so easily do, were able to look beyond the differences and find new friends to play with.

"Mama," I asked, "Should we not spend more time with some of the new people here, to help them adjust? Surely we know things they don't."

"That's kind of you Molly, and I know if we were back home, new neighbours would be welcomed with gifts of food, advice, and friendship. I have nothing against these settlers. They are just like us. They have been sold the vision of a new life because of what was taken away back home. But until we can truly call this place ours, I think it wise to not be too friendly with those who do not have the ability to both give and receive."

"That's not too neighbourly Mama?"

"I guess it isn't too neighbourly. But being a neighbour means you live in your house, and they live in theirs, and you share the land and its stories together, as a community should. I don't think we're at the point where we can do that."

"I see your point Mama, and I'll be a bit careful, but it's not going to stop me from trying to find some company my own age."

"For goodness sake Molly, you can't always be tied to your mother and family. Meet some of the new folk and get to know them. Remember we all depend on the good grace of these native folk for our survival before we can finally put down roots and fend for ourselves. You don't know what a desperate person might do given the chance. These new settlers, although they have weathered the difficult journey to get here like we have, have not yet faced the Canadian winter. Enjoy their company to a point, for when times are difficult, and we are not fools enough to think it won't be difficult, remember it's the family that comes first, not new settlers from Ireland."

As I have spent time here at Pembina, I have taken Mama's words to heart, although sometimes I think I'm being selfish doing so. Two young women close to my age are here, and I have tried to make their acquaintance. We sometimes share words with each other, but memories of how Scottish and Irish treat each other back home linger under the surface of our conversations. Still it does not stop me from trying.

"Pemmican is the sweetest food imaginable compared to what we had to suffer with up at York Factory last winter," I started one morning, trying my best to at least be friendly with Chloe McCarthy and Rachel O'Connor, two new Selkirk settlers, as we sat together by one of the many fires sewing and mending garments for winter wear.

"You're clearly not thinking straight," Chloe replied, confused by such a strange thing to say. "Pemmican is tough and tasteless. My father tells me the only way to make it bearable is to wash it down with a whiskey chaser."

"I've been told the same," Rachel chimed in. "Two days ago I saw your Uncle Willie staggering about camp, bottle in one hand and piece of pemmican in the other. He looked like he had the devil in his eyes, and it took everything in my power to look away and not draw his attention to me. Clearly, he knows how to get rid of the taste quickly." Locking eyes with her friend, both girls started to giggle at the joke.

"I would not be worried about drawing Willie's attention towards you," I coolly replied, upset these girls have already seen that side of my uncle. "Willie has had a difficult time here. Like you, he was forced from his home, but instead of just resigning himself to the fact he has to start over, he carries the anger with him, always bubbling close to the surface. He might not always make the best choices, but you always know where you stand with him."

Rachel and Chloe could sense I was getting angry, so they quickly changed the subject.

"What was it they forced you to drink last winter Molly?" Chloe inquired. "It was something so bad it makes pemmican actually taste sweet?"

"I hope we do not have to go down that road again," I depressingly began. "Hopefully the buffalo meat is enough to keep the scurvy away. If it isn't, you'll soon see the black tea they make in this country."

"There certainly is enough buffalo meat here," Rachel observed. The Governor made sure to fill that entire storehouse so we would be prepared for this winter."

"I know," I replied, "MacDonell goes out of his way to ensure we are provided for. But remember ladies, if it's a choice between MacDonell and the Canadian winter, I would place my bets on the land over a man."

"What exactly do you mean?" Chloe asked.

"A man may have the best of intentions, but if that man resides in hell, those intentions do not amount to a damn thing." I could see the shocked expressions on both girls' faces, but I simply had to continue. "The buffalo come here, and it's an important source of food, but it may not be enough. You may need to be introduced to a healthy glass of spruce beer, a drink so foul, and yet so healthy, I am not sure whether to condemn its taste or praise its medicinal qualities. Understand ladies, you have been through tough times, an ocean crossing and difficult journey down river, but the "desperate" times are just beginning. You can choose to trust the actions of the man who has been sent to lead us, or you can see the actions of my uncle for what they are: the life of a Selkirk colonist, whose body is in one land save his heart which still belongs to another."

A silence fell over all three of us. The quiet was awkward as I remembered the words of my mother: don't get too close. Chloe McCarthy tried to break the silence.

"Perhaps all your uncle needs is the comfort a good woman can provide." I lifted my head up from my sewing. I was surprised by her honesty, yet all I could think about was how much I missed George. "He seems so sad walking around the camp. I know he mostly keeps to himself and some of the other Scottish that came here with you Molly, and I've often wondered if the reason why he is so angry is he does not have the good sense of a woman to help calm him down."

"These are things you think about?" I bluntly asked, my cheeks beginning to flush.

"No Molly, not all the time." It was now Chloe's turn to start turning red. "Rachel and I talk about the men we have seen here, about the men we accompanied across the ocean. We know there are not many young girls in the area, especially good Irish girls, and Scottish too. Well..." she clearly started to stammer trying to figure out what she was going to say. "Men need the company of women, and although young, a woman must sometimes think about her future, about a man she could marry."

"Go on."

"Your uncle does have the devil in him, but that anger makes him handsome. He is so intense, even though I know enough to look away, sometimes I just can't."

And there we have it, I thought to myself! It had been such a long time when I simply talked with girls my own age. I knew I was older than my years seemed, and now I remembered the silliness and peculiar notions some young girls liked to fill their heads with. I wanted to be angry, but I knew I couldn't.

"So you fancy my uncle then?"

"He stands out above the rest," Chloe whispered, uncertain about how much of her heart she wanted to give up. "I don't think he has even noticed me, or talked about me for that matter, but there is something about him, the ruggedness of his appearance, the defiance in his walk, the sadness in his eyes, that I find myself thinking about often."

"Would you like me to make some inquiries on your behalf?" I offered, not sure if I should get in the middle of something like this.

"Oh Molly, could you please? My mother would be outraged if she knew I was talking to you like this. She thinks it best that we keep to our own in this place."

I could not help but smile: Chloe's mother and my own had the same opinion.

"Perhaps you could put in a kind word to your uncle when he is not so hostile, when he is calm and willing to listen?"

"I'll certainly see what I can do," I said to Chloe, again thinking about how much I missed George. "I cannot say for sure what he will do, but he most certainly will be flattered by the attention. Back home, he knew how to charm the young ladies of Argyll. But this place has changed him too much."

"Thank you Molly," Chloe said. "My ma has always said a woman can anchor a man, keep him from drifting too far out to sea. Maybe all your uncle needs is someone to keep him still, keep him from moving as his moods swing."

"Your ma is a pretty wise woman," I replied. "It's difficult to keep a man anchored when he is constantly on the move and not in charge of where he can go. I don't know what will happen to my uncle, but I hope a small home, a piece of land to farm, can go a long way to bringing him back to the man I knew as a young girl."

"All I want, all my parents want, is an ordinary life. My mother talks about it so often she can think of nothing else. So much of who we are was taken away from us back home in Ireland. My proud father reduced to ruins at the hands of men and business he could not defend against. Oh Molly, we wandered the streets often, reduced to begging and the little that could be provided by the church and people of generous heart. My parents look to Selkirk as our saviour, but I hope to be saved by more than just him."

I started to realize this girl, around my age, was also far more mature than her years let on. Perhaps it has to do with how fast we all have had to grow up. When a life is not lived ordinary, a large amount of experience can be added on in short order. There were some years between my uncle and her, but Chloe is of a sound mind, and if anyone could break the hardness of his heart, perhaps it's this young girl from the streets of Dublin.

Chapter 27

Our stay in Pembina has not been without incident. It was in late December, just after Christmas, that the final buildings, the ones for the governor and officers of our party, were built and ready for habitation. The buildings for colonists had been erected a month earlier, and both parties had no choice but to come together as one large group of Selkirk settlers.

This was the important event in my mind, since for about a month, once the group led by Owen Keveny arrived, both groups of settlers eyed each other with mutual distrust and suspicion. I initially heeded the warnings and advice of my mother, but I soon realized her fears were misplaced. I now consider Chloe to be a true friend, near and dear to my heart.

And yet, as men in positions of power will often do, we had a gathering to praise the magnificence of Lord Selkirk now that this fort named Daer was complete. I'm not sure if I can remember exactly how many of these ceremonies I have attended, but the memories of each blur into one another.

It dawned on me how silly it was to continue with these supposed grand occasions. After all, this was not the final resting spot for the family, just another place to hold and wait. As these depressing thoughts started to overwhelm me, a gentle smirk started to gather at the sides of my mouth, and I remember trying desperately hard not to let out the nervous laughter building inside me. Almost reading my thoughts, my uncle walked over to my side and started to whisper in my ear.

"Ah Molly, perhaps a little drink from this flask will settle you down." He offered the whiskey to me, something he has never done before, knowing full well I would not take it. Seeing the smile we now both shared, I gently pushed his hands aside, hoping he would stop. Yet all that did was to make him bolder, moving from me to everyone else assembled.

"Oh Molly, of course, I should be offering something to the Master of Ceremony." Willie's whisper turned into a full roar meant to disrupt the seriousness of our gathering. "All hail our grand governor. A toast to this most glorious occasion!" Willie had everyone's attention, and he was going to put it to good use. "I am honoured to be here at the raising of the flag. Much has been done since we arrived, and I cannot help but also thank those new settlers who have decided to join in on the adventure."

"Enough now Fraser," MacDonell threatened. As if sensing trouble, as has often been the case when uncle decides it's time, MacDonell's hand went down to his waist where his pistol could be clearly seen.

"I am almost finished my remarks, kind sir," my uncle sarcastically replied. "However, there is only one thing that troubles me. I once knew an ass named Daer, so it strikes me as rather odd the name of this great fort we have taken much pain and effort to build reminds me of an ass?"

I couldn't help myself. I started to laugh hysterically, and within moments almost all assembled, except for MacDonell and his fellow officers, were doing the same. I saw Papa and Mama holding on to each other as they smiled and laughed together. Doctor Edwards, at most times serious, even allowed himself a small grin of pleasure at my uncle's quip. As the crowd started to settle, I noticed Chloe as she looked at my uncle with obvious affection in her eyes.

"Fraser," MacDonell angrily started, "It will be not too soon when we will be parted never to see each other again. And for all those others who feel they need to know, Daer is named after Selkirk's son, James Dunbar, the Sixth Earl of Selkirk. We honour our benefactor with this name. Although there may be many an ass who will live here for the winter, we have built a Hudson's Bay Fort to compete with our rival interests from the Northwest. This is the point, and this is why we gather."

"And a fine fort it is," Willie bellowed in reply. "Like the sturdiness of the tamest ass, may Fort Daer do what is asked of her." Draining what was left in his flask, Willie saluted Governor MacDonell with his middle finger raised and with the depth of a fart so loud it seemed to shake the ground where I stood.

"Oh you've gone and done it now," Papa muttered underneath his breath.

Pointing at two Hudson Bay Officers, MacDonell made a motion to have Willie removed from the proceedings. Willie smartly started to walk backwards, waving to everyone as he did so. By the door, he turned and made a dash for outside. Sensing no more trouble from the crowd, MacDonell nodded to his two henchmen to stand down.

A few weeks after my uncle's outburst, he stopped looking over his shoulder, worried about an attack by a group of men under the control of MacDonell and the Company. He had not made too many friends since we arrived. Of course, his main problem, where everything else came from, was his persistent love of the bottle.

As time went by, there was every possibility the job of taming Willie's wild heart would fall on another. I talked to him about Chloe, and it was not long after that he was spotted at the fringes of our camp walking with Chloe, the two of them clothed to protect themselves from the harsh elements, the snow and wind, yet happy to be on their own walking peacefully about.

Close to the middle of February, George finally made it to Pembina. The men left behind with Mr. Hillier had started construction on Fort Douglas. They also made strong connections with the locals in the area, buying meat and fish which they had brought with them. All of this, however, did not concern me as much as seeing my George come to me, safe and healthy after so many months apart.

When his group approached the camp, I could see his beautiful face wrapped up carefully for protection from the elements. He looked weather worn and tired from the work that had kept him away from me.

"Mr. Cooper," I called out to him as he approached. "Would you care for a cup of tea?"

"Miss. Fraser," George replied, with a smile delightfully forming at the sides of his mouth, "A cup of tea would be a most welcome thing indeed."

"Please, come inside from the cold and I will put a pot on the fire to boil."

"George," my brother shouted as he ran up to him to give him a hug. "It's so good to see you. It's so much more fun when you are around. Molly has been so mean to me ever since you left. Could you please tell her to be nicer?"

If glances were daggers, I'm sure my little brat of a brother would have been cut in many places.

"Now Liam," George smiled at him. "You know your sister means well and she loves you very much. Girls just have such a strange way of showing they care. Remember, the more she hurts you, the more she loves you."

"If you don't want this wooden spoon I have hitting you in the head," I coldly replied, "Then you would best remember your manners young sir. Liam, Angus, take Calum out and find some other place to amuse yourself."

"She wants to hit you George," Angus said. "I guess she wants to show you how much she cares for you."

I started to chase the boys, who eventually took the hint and left, not without a few more jokes at my expense. Once, they were gone, I turned to see George not two feet from me. "I've missed you terribly," I started.

"Not as much as I have missed you," George replied, hugging me so strongly it almost took my breath away. "Oh Molly, we spent long days building and getting ready for settlers. Many nights I ached from the work, but it did not compare to the pain of missing you. I have longed for this moment ever since you and your family left to come here for the winter."

"I've dreamt of you often George. Winter nights are so cold, and the thought of you warms the heart. But come now, the family will be coming in soon. Sit down and let me make you some tea."

After a while, I could hear the rabble of voices outside as my family was coming in from the cold. Mama entered, carrying pemmican to be used to make our nightly rubaboo, while Papa carried Calum who was crying uncontrollably. When that boy doesn't get his nap during the day, he is a terror until it's time to go to sleep.

"George," Papa started, "How are things back at Fort Douglas? Will we have a place to stay once it's time to leave?"

"We spent time surveying the land and setting up plots for settlement. But most of our time was on the construction of Fort Douglas and trade with the locals."

"You look tired my boy, and no doubt thirsty too. Would you care for a wee nip from the bottle while we wait for dinner?"

"A most gracious offer sir, but I think I'll keep with the tea your daughter has been so nice to prepare."

"Yes, she certainly is nice isn't she? You know George, Molly here keeps some of her feelings to herself, but I know my family well, and I know these many months she has missed you. No doubt you might feel the same way. So then, tell me Mr. Cooper, what intentions might you have pertaining to my daughter?"

"Papa," I quickly responded leaping to my feet so fast I almost lost my balance. "Surely now is not the time to have this kind of talk."

"If not now then when Molly? Let the good boy speak for himself. I have observed him, and he has good character, a fine young man indeed."

"I agree," Mama responded as she started preparations for dinner. "He is an orphan boy who has done right by himself, growing up fast while keeping his head and wits about himself."

"I appreciate the kind words Mr. Fraser, Mrs. Fraser," George replied, "Though I daresay Molly's uncle may have something to say on the matter as well."

"Ah, don't you worry about Willie. He has his own demons to battle, and if he has words with you, then you're just like everyone else. Besides, lately, if my eyes don't deceive me, William seems preoccupied with a young Irish girl."

"Chloe McCarthy and I have exchanged words on occasion," I said, trying to change the subject. "She's a lovely girl, with a good head on her shoulders. I don't think she knows what she is getting herself into by falling for Uncle Willie, but someone needs to tame him."

"So I need to be tamed do I?" Just then Willie entered, but he did not appear angry. In fact, he looked happy, happier than I have seen him in a while. "So what are you saying Molly, am I some kind of wild animal that needs to be taught how to behave?"

"No uncle, that's not what I meant. What I meant to say was..."

"Now, now Moll, don't you worry none. I know I'm stubborn, and I can be a jackass like none other. I think it best to express your anger when you have it, not sit around and let things happen to you and not do anything about it."

"Willie, we're not talking about you right now," Papa interrupted. "Mr. Cooper was about to tell us his intentions."

"Oh, so the lad has come back from his work," Willie said. I also am interested in hearing what the good man has to say about my niece."

"Willie, Papa," I interrupted. "George has not been back an hour, and you've started in on him. Let him sit for a while, give him something to eat and drink before you examine him as a judge examines a criminal."

"Now Molly," Papa replied. "We don't mean any harm, and I am not about to pass judgement on Mr. Cooper. Perhaps we have been a bit hasty with the boy. Come, let's all sit down by the fire and warm up a while so Mama and Mrs. Docherty can make dinner in peace. Molly, find a suitable place in our camp where George here can make his bed while he is with us."

"Thank you for your kind words and hospitality Mr. Fraser," George politely responded as he got up to put on his coat and leave, "But I and must report to Governor MacDonell for a meeting about Company business. After that, I will come back so we can continue with our conversation."

I was happy to see George leave quickly. Although I knew the questions were inevitable, it felt like he was being unfairly harassed. Papa could see from the look on my face I was not pleased.

"Molly, I'm sorry your uncle and I have come on a little strong. So little happens here at this camp; I jump at the chance to have a good chat when the opportunity presents itself."

Shaking my head, I angrily replied, "Papa, George and I have strong feelings for each other. Is that what you want to hear? I know once he is established in this country, he will ask you for my hand in marriage. There, it's out in the open for everyone to know." My eyes started to swell with tears as I continued. "George is an honest man who does not let the drink get the better of him. If you all love me, you will treat him with the respect he deserves, especially you Willie."

"I intend to," Willie responded, clearly surprised I directed my anger at him.

"I remember what you said to George the first night we arrived at Red River and were suddenly attacked. I thought you would strike him that night. Willie, sometimes the demons from the drink overpower you and make you do things you shouldn't. George is a fine man who would not do a thing to hurt me. Do you understand?"

"Molly," my uncle started, clearly saddened by my words and ready to make amends. "In front of all of you here, I know I have not been the easiest to get along with. Some might think it's the Scottish temper, others the whisky, still others a combination of the two. No doubt there are some people I have meant to anger, some people I have meant to offend, but never you, my dearest niece, never you..." His voice started to trail off quietly, and visible tears could be seen running softly down his eyes. "As some of you already know, I have met a young lass here at camp, and she has started to soften some of the hard edges of my heart. I know I have been an ass at times, and I am sorry. Molly, you are the one person I do not want angry with me. I respect you the most, even though I don't tell you and I should." Willie quietly approached me and stretched his arms out for a hug which I quickly fell into. "Please forgive me for my pig headed ways."

"Oh Uncle, of course I forgive you."

"Now that is something you don't see every day," Papa said as the two of us pulled back from our forgiving embrace. "It's too bad most days aren't like this. Then I'd know for sure we stand a chance in this God forsaken country. By the way, Willie, what are your intentions with this young Irish girl of yours?"

"John," Mama yelled from the side of the hut where the stew was being prepared, "You can just shut your mouth now and get yourself ready to eat. And if I hear any more talk about intentions, that person will feel a wooden spoon to the side of the head."

"When you talk like that Fiona, it's music to my ears."

"You know she loves you if she wants to hit you," Liam cheerfully stated, timing his delivery perfectly. Everyone laughed at his silly joke as we all got ready for dinner.

Chapter 28

_A second winter finished in this wild, untamed country of endless sky and stars. We have still much to learn in this new world, willing students with no teachers to_ _guide us in our common struggles. The_ _natives tolerate us, with gifts of laughter and scorn like so many scraps of fur and pieces of dried meat. The Metis, the fur traders whose land we have taken, criticize our presence with looks of anger bordering on hostility and violence. The snow, wind, and rain are ceaseless in their persecution, bringing only pain and sorrow to those who wish to make the wild their own. Yet the mad Scot can do nothing but survive when the odds are not in her favour. I will jump off the cliff, land in the wild choppy waters, and make the land what I require of it..._

The last bits of snow have finally melted away, replaced by the grass that will soon look windswept and brown from too little rain and too much bluster. Back to Red River we go!

In May, we left Pembina and returned to Red River to stake our claim and create the home promised to us.

Everyone was in high spirits on our departure day. The leader of the group, Peguis, was present to see us off. Ever since that time many months ago when he offered Mama a feather from his head dress, I have admired him, if but from afar. Older than most, he commands a respect from his people I'm sure our Governor wishes he could get from us.

Leaving Pembina brought smiles to most people's faces, but for some there are other reasons to smile. There is no doubt in my mind Willie will ask for Chloe to marry him once he has established himself in a small home with a good crop sown. I hope for the same thing as well. George will spend most of his time at Fort Douglas with the Company, but I have no doubt he will soon ask Papa for his permission so the two of us can be wed.

Off in the distance, herds of buffalo can be seen gently grazing on fresh plains grass. Thank goodness for their presence. Buffalo meat is plentiful at Pembina. As I found out from those who winter here regularly, the snow was not very deep this particular season, and often the buffalo would come close to our enclosures, rubbing their backs against the walls.

The sixty mile journey back to the Red River was bearable with songs and stories from those close to me. George carried little Calum on his shoulders, and he kept a smile on my brother's face with little tickles and songs. Both Angus and Liam, when they were not chasing each other, would walk close to George and listen to his tales as a ship's boy, crossing the ocean in search of treasure and adventure.

Walking on our second day with Papa, I could see concern in his face that he was trying to hide. "We will have our land Papa." I said to him reassuringly. "George has told us most things are ready. We'll make due with tents until we can finally build a house sturdy enough to survive the winter."

"Oh Molly, I know. With hammer, nails, and what this good earth can provide, we will have our house, a home just like our croft back in Argyll. Do you remember what life was like back then Molly?"

"It's been such a long time; I can't say for sure I remember."

"It's been well over two years since we last saw Argyll, since we last looked at misty Highland mornings with a nice cup of tea and hot tattie scone. Your littlest brother will not know sadness because of what he has missed."

"Do you think him lucky, Papa?"

"Unless our lot improves, I do not see any luck coming his way."

"But you just said yourself a home will not be hard to build, that we will survive a Canadian winter by our own hands and not have to depend on the charity of strangers."

"I know what I have said. It is not the roof over our head I'm concerned about."

"Well what then?" Just then, Mr. Docherty quickened his pace to listen in and take part in our conversation.

"Molly," Mr. Docherty interrupted, "Your father and I have talked about this often. The lots assigned to our family and yours are quite close to each other, so we will make sure to help each other build small dwellings as quickly as possible. But John is concerned about our ability to feed ourselves."

"We have seeds to plant," I quickly countered. Once we arrive, we'll plant right away for the fall harvest."

"If it was only that easy," Papa sullenly replied. "This prairie sod is tough, it will need to be broken up and worked over, and what tools have we been given? Where are the teams of oxen and the ploughs? All we have been given is a simple hoe, not enough for the type of work we need to do."

"But the Governor will not abandon us?" I suggested. "With all that has been brought to help us live in this area, would he not make sure that farm animals and other tools were given to us so the job can be done right?"

Both Papa and Mr. Docherty started to chuckle to themselves at my suggestion. "Oh Molly," Papa responded, "The Governor has much on his mind. More colonists are coming in, and he also has the business of the HBC to think about. We might get a few extra tools to ease the burden, but I would not hold your breath if I were you."

I did not want to give up hope so easily. "But what about all the fish in the river? I remember when Mr. Robertson told us about how special this place was. He said the river was full of fish easy enough to fill the bellies of all."

"Yes, I remember that too," Mr. Docherty replied. "Sturgeon, pike, catfish and who knows what else can be found in these rivers. His words sounded like music to me when I heard them. But I have come to realize that Mr. Robertson was there to sell a false vision of Red River. He was fishing for settlers to come here, and he baited his words with dishonesty in order to pull us in."

"Some years in this country are bad," Papa continued. "Let's hope this is not an off year. If it is, I'm afraid it will force MacDonell to do something next winter none of us will like."

"What will he do?" I asked, knowing full well what the answer to my questions already was.

"Another winter back in Pembina. Those Metis and natives were glad to see us go. I don't think they'll be too happy to have us come back."

Once we came to our lot, we pitched our tents and settled down to work right away. Even Liam had to do his equal share, whether it was chopping the fire wood, bringing fresh water from the river, or helping Papa to pull at the soil to get it ready for planting. Even Mama tried to help with the soil and with fishing in the river. All this work required a lot of strength, and the family needed to be well fed.

The most important need was to build a shelter to help protect us from the mosquitoes, cold nights, and violent rainfalls. I tried to do what I could to help, but much of the time I was forced to watch Calum and keep him out of harm's way.

True to his word, Mr. Docherty helped us with our shelter. Chunks of grass and dirt were used to make the walls of our small colony house. The sod was stacked almost like bricks. It was thick, so it made the inside of our dark home cool, but it also attracted a lot of insects. We were given some wood to create a roof for our home which was also reinforced with bits of sod. When it was complete, it did not look like much, but it did protect us from the outside.

After a few weeks, it was clear to me Papa's words could not have been truer. There was little luck with fishing. What fish we could catch were small and only good for making broth. Even more frustrating was the difficulty with the soil. Try as we could, it has been next to impossible to have our grain planted for a fall harvest.

The only thing we have been able to find in this land to eat is a type of potato called a prairie turnip. This vegetable seems to grow everywhere. It may not be much, but it at least is something to eat when there is little else. Every day, I take Calum out to gather some of these potatoes while the others work on our shelter and fields.

"Look at this," Calum said one early morning as we went out to search for turnips. Now he has started to speak a little, it's difficult to keep him quiet.

"What are you looking at Calum?" I gently asked as I walked over to where he was looking.

"Right here!" Pointing down, I saw the remains of a small animal, a grouse perhaps, covered in ants. Its fur was rotting, and its eyes were missing from their sockets. I immediately turned away from it in disgust. My little baby brother, however, could not seem to tear himself away from the brutal little corpse.

"Don't touch it Calum. Leave it alone and give me your hand."

As we walked away, I wondered to myself about what may have happened to that little animal. Unlike us, it has been here since birth. Did it die of old age without any family around? Maybe it couldn't find anything to eat and had to die alone, cold, and starving?

A few nights later, I awoke in the middle of the night with a start. Thinking it a nightmare, I started to look around and listen to make sure I did not wake up anyone else. Unfortunately, it wasn't a bad dream.

"Molly," Papa commanded, "Make sure you look after your little brothers. Take this knife and use it if someone you do not know tries to come in."

"What's going on John?" Mama asked alertly as she quickly pulled herself off of the bed.

"I was afraid of this. They're trying to give us a scare. You heard the gun shot right? But I will not scare. Willie, let's get out there and get at these bastards for this."

"I'm with you John. Let's go."

"Don't do it," Mama pleaded in a loud whisper as she reached out for Papa's arm. "Don't go and do anything to get yourself shot."

"I don't intend to," Papa confidently replied as he grabbed at Mama's hand to give it a squeeze. "Those men out there are trespassing and need to be set straight. That's all."

When the door opened, I could see a couple of lights flickering in the distance. Running towards the lights, Papa and Willie started to scream and curse wildly, like two feral animals unleashed from a painful trap and out looking for blood. Huddling closely with my brothers, I could hear the quick breathing of Liam and the quiet sobs of Calum, too young to understand why he was just woken up out of a peaceful sleep. "What's going on Molly?" Liam quietly whispered in my ear.

"I don't know, but I think the Metis are trying to scare us. They have no idea who they are up against. Once Papa gets a hold of one, he'll make sure not to come around here again."

"Did we do something wrong Molly?"

"No, we didn't do anything wrong at all. All we've done is live in peace off of the land, and in return we have people pushing us off of it."

A loud gun blast broke up our conversation. I let out a shriek fearing the worst, and Calum started to cry. Sitting on my knee, the poor boy started to wet himself as well. Mama tore open the door and called loudly for Papa and Willie to come back immediately.

"Get on!" Papa yelled out in the moonlit night towards the men who had come here to scare us. "Fiona, you get back in the house. These men have gone, but they may come back, and I don't want you out here if that happens."

"What have they done? Why was there a gun shot?"

"I can't say for sure, just trying to put the scare in us. It looks like they may have tried to burn down our shed. Willie, we may as well head back inside and sit and wait."

"We need to get some help," Willie replied. "We need to chase after these buggers and give them a taste of what they are doing to us." As he walked into the house, I could see the anger simmering behind my uncle's eyes. He was ready to fight.

"They know the land better than you Willie," Papa calmly responded. "Docherty's house is too far away to get him. We'll need to figure something out, but it will have to wait until morning."

"By morning it might be too late, but I'll take your advice John. But mark my words: if these hooligans come back, I'll chase them all the way to hell if I have to."

No one was going to go back to sleep easily tonight. I cleaned up Calum as best as I could while Mama stoked the embers in the fire to get the kettle going for a cup of tea. I was so scared I almost felt like I needed something a little bit stronger than tea.

Papa quietly started sipping his tea, thinking out loud about what we were going to do. "It was bad enough when those sheep herders came to Argyll and kicked us out of our croft. We are not going to have the same thing happen to us here."

"We'll need to organize," Willie softly replied. "We'll need to create a militia to defend our own. There are many good men here who would be willing to help out."

"I think it's a good idea," Papa replied, "But we all spend every waking hour just trying to survive. Do you think we have time to do this too?"

"It's simple. We have to protect what is ours. We paid a huge price coming here. A price paid in sweat, tears, blood and death. No fur trader is going to get in the way of what I have paid for a hundred times over."

"You're damn right Willie, but before we take the law into our own hands, let's find out from MacDonell if there are any plans put in place to help protect our land."

As Papa and Willie talked quietly about what could be done, we heard voices approaching. Rushing up quickly from his chair, Willie tore open the door. In the slight moonlight, I thankfully made out the faces of Mr. and Mrs. Docherty and Angus.

"Robert, what are you doing here?" Papa exclaimed. "Let me guess, you were paid a visit tonight as well?"

Taking out a small flask from his pocket, Mr. Docherty took a long sip to calm his nerves. His hands were visibly shaking as he brought the flask to his lips. He was about to speak but his wife decided to answer.

"We had to leave and come here. It's not safe where we are and now."

"What happened Arwen?" Mama gently asked as she quickly poured her a cup of tea and gestured for her to sit down.

"We heard voices, French voices outside. I may not know many words, but I know what they were saying was no good. Robert yelled at them to go away, but there is not much you can do to defend yourself when they have a gun and you do not. When Robert opened the door, we could see our small shed was fully ablaze. The one thing that really troubled me was the look in their faces as they sat on horses close to the fire. I could see the paint on their faces. I don't quite know what colours it was, but those men looked something fearful, like some kind of ghost sent from the devil himself."

"Come now Arwen," Mr. Docherty replied, "Don't scare the Frasers with your wild talk of face paint and ghosts."

"You saw it too Robert. Don't deny those men were looking for a fight with that paint on their face?"

"It's just paint Arwen," Papa replied trying to calm her fears as well as my own. "I'm not worried about how they look. It's what they are doing that disturbs me."

"I know," Mrs. Docherty replied. "That's why we quietly made our way here after they rode off. I was scared walking here, but I think I would have been more scared to stay put and have those men come back again."

"They don't scare me," Angus chimed in. "Let them come and I will hit them with my fists."

Angus was dead serious, but his confident way made everyone laugh. He started to punch at the air in front of him, and soon my uncle was beside him doing the exact same thing. If anyone who was going to encourage fighting, it was going to be Willie.

"What do you intend to do when you see someone you think is causing you trouble?" my uncle playfully asked.

"I'm going to kick him between his legs, and when he's on the ground I'll kick him in the head."

I looked over at Liam who was smiling brightly, proud his good friend could say such brave words. My uncle also seemed to marvel at how tough this little boy was. I know Liam and Angus play a lot of games together, games where they would fight and end up with scrapes, bruises and sometimes a bloody nose. Maybe those games might come in handy in the future.

After a while things started to settle in the house, and you could hear the soft sound of quiet breathing, of people sleeping a troubled sleep. With so many of us together we were safe, but what if these men came back in larger numbers? What if they decided to do more than simply try to scare us with a gun shot in the air and torches? Like Willie said, if we are going to survive as settlers in this new land, we'll need more than just a shelter over our heads and food to fill our bellies: we'll need to feel we are safe from harm. I know my family would protect me to the end, as would George. I hope that's enough...

Chapter 29

We did not stay long in our colony house along the banks of the Red River.

It was in the middle of September when we started to realize that wintering would be impossible. The harvest was poor, the fishing even worse, and there was not enough stored up to last the cold winter months on the plains. Papa's worries came true. This was an off year, and we had no choice but to go back from where we came.

I hope Calum makes the journey alright. He is not growing as fast as he should. It has to do with this diet of prairie turnips we are forced to eat at every meal. Sometimes, without warning, he cries and begs to be held. I take him up in my arms and sooth him as best as I can, but there are moments when he is inconsolable.

My uncle had big plans, but they will have to wait. He was going to build his own sod home, establish a small farm, and then wed Chloe. With the difficulties we have all experienced, there has not been a chance for him to follow through. He had a good long talk with Chloe's father who would have nothing better than to see his daughter wed, but not until there is certainty she can be provided for. Being able to provide is far from certain for all of us.

Our reception at Pembina was cold to say the least. As we quietly passed by the Saulteaux natives on our way back to Fort Daer, many of them shook their heads in disgust and spat on the ground. Peguis simply looked sad.

Our first night back in this prison was one of the saddest I have ever had in this country. For October, the night was cold, and I could not get rid of the chills. Closing my eyes, I started to dream wildly. I was alone, waist deep in snow. Try as I might, I could not call out to anybody. The sky was gray and barren, with no animal or person within sight. Looking down, I saw dried blood on my hands. Rubbing my hands with snow could not get the stain off. The snow started to sting, and I was losing feeling in my fingers. I then looked a little to my left and saw a trail of blood leading to a single feather, the same feather my mother received from Peguis as a gift almost a year ago. To my right I saw the remains of a buffalo, staring at me with lifeless, sad eyes. Panicking, I tried to lift myself up but I was stuck...

"Molly, child, wake up! You're having a terrible dream."

"Mama, what happened? Where am I?"

"Oh poor girl, you dozed off by the fire. We need to find you some more blankets. This is a cold October evening."

Mama got up to find me another blanket. Still shivering, I looked around the room to see everyone else in just as poor shape as I was. Papa was using his knife, working on a small scrap of wood he found on our march here. He was probably making a toy for Calum, but he could just as easily be whittling the wood down to a sharp point.

He is not near the man he once was. The strain of being a colonist has taken its toll little by little. Papa used to have a full head of hair, and over the last while it has started to thin, with a small bald patch forming on the top of his head. His face has thinned, and his beard has turned completely gray.

My two brothers are pale and thin. Across the room, they huddle together underneath a blanket for warmth. There is just not enough meat on their poor little bones.

"Molly, are you alright dear?" Mama asked as she spread an old blanket around me for warmth. She started rubbing the sides of my arms to help me get the blood flowing.

"I don't know if I'm alright or not. We have tried so hard. I have worked my fingers raw. Sometimes my hands start to bleed because they are so cracked and dry. I rub them on my arms and it feels like coarse sand. You would think after a while, all of this work would count for something. It seems every time we make some progress, every time we are about to get on our feet, another problem is placed in our way we have to solve. We can't go forward because we always end up going backwards."

"I know Molly. But remember, we are Frasers, and we can handle the things the Lord puts in our way."

"Hmmm," Papa snorted to himself in the corner where he was working quietly.

"You've got something to say John?" Mama asked.

"Since what has the Lord got anything to do with what has been put in our way? We've got a problem with people all around us who don't want us to be here. As far as I can tell, our problem is we work too hard and trust too much."

"We'll figure it out John. For the sake of the kids, we will make a life for ourselves in this country."

"When!!" my father screamed getting up from his chair so forcefully it almost shattered as it hit the wall behind him. His sudden outburst woke Calum and Liam. Both boys hid under the blanket, whimpering softly. "When do you see this happening Fiona? When one of your children has a foot stuck in their own grave? Damn it, this is not what we were expected to have. If I knew two years ago what I know now, I would have stayed in the dirty stinking city New Lanark and never bothered with this hellish plan. That's right Fiona, God has forsaken us here. There is no Lord who makes us suffer. There is only suffering."

"John! Not in front of the kids!"

"Why not in front of them Fiona? They have a stake in this life every bit as much as we do. They need to know what their chances are, what all of our chances are."

"For the sake of your family John, calm yourself and let the boys try to get some sleep. And stop waving that knife around before it slips out of your hand by accident."

Papa started to shake a little as his whole body heaved with the force of his own breath. With his free hand, he quietly picked up the chair from the ground and sat down. Putting the knife down on his lap, he lifted both his hands to his face and he started to weep quietly. I turned to my mother and gestured for her to remain still as I went over to him.

"What were you doing with that piece of wood Papa?" I softly asked as I delicately placed a hand on his shoulder.

"It was for your brother. Do you remember Molly when I would carve out little figures for you and Liam to play with? I wanted to do something for Calum, give him a little toy to spend some hours with as we sit here for another winter."

"I'm sure he would love it. Are you almost finished?"

"It's just a little soldier, a Highlander really. It will take a bit more time, and I hope I can paint it too."

"It's important to do things that keep your spirits up, right Papa?"

"I guess so. It feels like we are always waiting..." His voice trailed off as he took the toy on his hands and started to twirl it around. After a few moments, Papa looked me in the eyes and asked, "How do you keep your spirits up Molly?"

"Why taking care of all of you of course." I turned my head around and gave my mother a little wink. "If it wasn't for me, I'm sure this family would go to hell but quick."

Shaking his head, my father started to smirk and then chuckle a little to himself. "My courageous daughter, forgive an old man his anger. Sometimes I start to think the worst."

"Oh Papa, you know it is alright to be angry. We all have moments, and we will probably have many more before we are truly settled."

This winter at has been much worse than the first. The snow has been deep, and this has made Buffalo hunting extremely difficult. The Metis and natives use snowshoes so easily, yet settlers have not taken to them with the same amount of success.

The Buffalo are not as plentiful as they were last winter. Last year, they came so close to our shelter, scratching and sunning themselves at the back of the storehouse, but this year they are hardly found anywhere. They would normally move in large herds close to the river near spots that provided shelter from the wind and snow, but the amount of snow which has fallen this season has made this impossible.

This has caused many problems. Pemmican, our main food source, is in short supply these days. Often, we have to live off of only one meal each day.

Depression and hunger has started to turn into something more sinister, more suspicious. We ration food carefully, and this has led to wild accusations that some people are eating too much while others suffer. Mama's words about the two separate groups of settlers have started to come true. At the time, I listened to her advice only to a point, but now I see we are almost in a competition for survival. I always thought we would have to fight the elements, but often we fight each other.

Even worse than this fighting are the accusations Mr. Docherty has levelled against the Metis. Mr. Docherty is our unelected leader, and whispers suggest there is a plot to murder him. News travels fast in our camp, and it was only a matter of time when the Docherty murder plot was on everyone's mind.

"Willie," I enquired one cold January evening as we sat close to the fire and each other for warmth, "I know we are not well liked here, but to kill a man for this makes no sense at all?"

"There is a lot of anger. I know because I feel it as much as any man, if not more. We want to live a certain way, and this is an insult to the traders who have been here for years. Well, we're here, so they can all go to hell as far as I am concerned."

"That still doesn't explain why Mr. Docherty fears for his life?"

"It's just rumours Molly, that's all," Papa responded. "Everyone is on edge. Everyone is tired, and sometimes what is a dream and what is real become the exact same thing. Robert Docherty has a reason to be concerned, but we all have a reason to be concerned. We're hated here, and I don't think things are going to get better any time soon. In fact, I think things might even get a touch worse."

"How is that even possible?" I said anxiously.

"The Governor is about to take over the food supply by force. He is going to proclaim to everyone that no pemmican be allowed to leave the area."

"Will there be enough for us to last until the spring? I asked.

"I don't know Molly," Papa replied. "All I know is we are starving, and it's about bloody time our Governor did something."

"More settlers are coming in the spring," Willie added. "He's going to need food to welcome a new batch of poor Scottish and Irish to this western hell."

Suddenly, the door flew open and a cold gust of air blew over all of us. Everyone inside let out a shivering moan as Mr. Docherty entered with his wife and child. "Robert," Papa started, "Any more word on the plot to have you leave this earth?"

"I know you think me a mad fool John, but I have seen the way these Metis stare at me as I pass by. I hear whispers, low whispers and laughter too."

"Should we not all be careful?" I asked Mr. Docherty as he made his way to the fire.

"That's no doubt true Molly, but you are just a young girl. These Metis and fur traders don't see much harm in you. They are worried about those who try to lead."

"It's about time we arm ourselves, isn't it?" Willie asked.

"If what MacDonell is about to do actually happens, then we better prepare for war."

I know how much Mr. Docherty exaggerates, but he was dead serious. He expects a war, an actual battle where people might get killed, all because MacDonell wants to protect the food supply. "Is there not enough pemmican for everyone?" I asked. "I know we are rationing it now, but is that not the point: to ration the food until the spring when we can try to live off the land again?"

"Molly," Mr. Docherty replied, "It's more complicated. MacDonell is taking something away from the Nor' westers, something they need for their trade. If the pemmican stays here, then the North West Company cannot supply its trading posts. We can be fed, but others might starve."

"Then let them starve," Willie added, clearly agitated. "We need the food and this land belongs to us. If the Nor' westers are looking for a fight, I'll certainly give them one."

"No doubt you will," Papa responded. "Molly, this proclamation will make things more tense around here. You have to be more careful than you normally would, especially since your little brothers are not doing as well as they did last winter. Desperate men can easily choose to do desperate things."

Papa's dark words hung over all of us. We are desperate too, so can we not do unimaginable things as well?

George came to our shelter the next day wearing a sad expression. Only a few weeks ago he came here from his work at Fort Douglas, and I could tell he brought troubling news.

"Molly, it looks like I'll be leaving later today. I hope I'll return quickly, but I can't say for sure."

"But George," I exclaimed, "You just got here. Why do you have to leave again?"

He came inside our shelter and made a motion for everyone to come close. He was letting us in on a secret. "As you all probably know by now, MacDonell has proclaimed all the food in the area for the HBC."

Everyone nodded at this. His news was hardly a secret throughout the camp.

"There are large stock piles of buffalo meat throughout the area at different trading posts. The North West Company will not give up this food, even though the Governor has promised to pay with British pounds for all food at a fair rate. There is a large quantity of Buffalo meat at Brandon House, a North West fort some five days march from here. There may be over twenty tons of food. It's up to us to make our way to Brandon House and secure the food for the settlers."

"That sounds dangerous," my uncle plainly stated. "Are you up to the task?"

"I've been training with a gun for some time, and I can load a musket in under thirty seconds. Walking with snowshoes continues to improve every day. With this job, we have the element of surprise, so we will do what is needed without any harm coming to us."

My eyes start to well up a little. I know George was aware of how I felt, but he could not do anything about it with everyone present.

"There is nothing to worry about," George continued, "Once we seize the pemmican, we'll quickly be on our way."

"Good luck son," Papa said as he extended his hand. "Remember, you intend to marry my little girl here, so keep yourself safe and come back to us unharmed."

"That's exactly what I intend to do sir. Molly, walk outside with me for a little, will you?"

Leaving the shelter with George, we made our way to the storehouse where we would not be disturbed by prying eyes and listening ears. "George, I don't like this. Are you sure you have to go?"

"Molly, there's not much I can do. I've been given an order, and I have to obey. I'm not worried about the danger. I just hate to have to leave you now that I have you in my sights. I hope for a day where I can wake up every morning and see your beautiful face looking back at me."

"Oh George, you're so sweet." As we held each other's hands, our foreheads touched and the cold breath danced between our faces. I squeezed his hands and felt an equal force as he bent down to kiss me goodbye. "Come back to me safe, my love," I quietly whispered.

"I will do everything I can to stay out of harm's way. I will return as soon as I can."

I didn't want to see him leave. Every time we leave each other, there is a feeling deep in my stomach, a sickness I can't bear. With each passing month, my feelings for George grow stronger. So far, he has come back to me safe and healthy, but can I expect that every time? If something terrible were to happen to him, I'm not sure if I still have the strength left to deal with it.

Chapter 30

Each settler has to take turns guarding the shelters. We only have so many weapons to go around. Every house has been given one musket to share. We have been ordered by Governor MacDonell never to walk by ourselves.

The North West Company is increasing the fighting between us and the Metis. A representative of the North West, Duncan Cameron, was seen a few days ago nailing a sheet of paper to a tree close to the storehouse. Although most of us cannot read, we later found out it was a call to arms against us. According to Cameron, if we are not stopped, we will starve Metis families. You would think the Scots and Irish are like the devil's children based on the way Cameron describes us.

It has been about a week since George left for Brandon House, and each night I find it harder to get to sleep. It doesn't help that two men are asked to stay awake each night and guard the shelter. A night watch is not something anyone wants, but it is still something we have to painfully accept. No one else wants a fight except for Cameron and other agents of the North West.

Lifting myself up gently, I quietly made my way over to where Papa and Willie were sitting. It was their turn to watch. As I crept closer to where they were, I could hear the faint sounds of breathing mixed with snoring. There was Willie, hunched over on his chair with his head bent low, peacefully sleeping. Papa put his finger to his lips, gesturing me not to talk so that I didn't disturb him.

"He's had a tough few days," Papa softly remarked, "It's a good thing to let the boy have a bit of a sleep. It's too cold of a night for any trouble to come our way anyhow. Poor bugger is worried sick for Chloe, who has come down with a terrible cold."

"At least he can go see her," I replied. "Even though George said everything would be alright, I'm still scared for his safety."

"I've seen it in your face every day now for the past week. George is a smart one though, and I have no doubt he'll outwit any trouble in his way."

Papa's confidence helped me a bit. I can't help but worry, but I guess I have to trust George will stay true to his word and come back safe. "I hope we'll keep ourselves out of harm's way too."

"I hope so too. This Cameron thinks us a violent lot. He's so wrong."

"I don't understand why he has said such terrible things about us. Isn't he a Scot himself? I thought MacDonell paid for all provisions?"

"Molly, this Cameron does not care too much for pemmican. What the bugger cares about is control. Sure, he needs the food and we need it too, but even more than this, he needs to show he is a bigger man than MacDonell, and his company will not be forced out of business by the Baymen."

"It's such huge land. Isn't there enough room for all of us to live?"

"It certainly seems like the land in this country stretches forever. I think you are right, but men hungry for money and power do not see things in the same way."

"Is MacDonell hungry for these same things, for money and power?"

"I'd say he is a man who is always trying to prove his worth. It seems to me it's also about doing something that has never been done here before. When you hear them talk, it's all about helping us poor Scottish and Irish who were kicked off our land back home, but it's all about the glory of creating a settlement here and making it stick. You know Molly, sometimes I think Selkirk and MacDonell don't give a damn about us."

"Papa, do you ever feel like a poor lost sheep?"

"How do you mean Molly?"

"When I think about it, I can't help but notice we're just like those sheep that were brought to take our place back home in Argyll. MacDonell is just like a shepherd leading his flock to a placed promised to him. He's kicking people off the land who've lived here for a long time. I guess that might mean these Metis and Natives have much in common with us, at least the way we used to be. They are the crofters, and we are the sheep who have come to drive them away."

"I never really thought about things quite like that before, but I guess you're right. We tried to fight them off back home, but it didn't work. Let's hope when they fight us we'll win the day."

"So there is going to be a battle, no doubt?"

"No doubt."

"And the sooner the better is all I can say," Willie said with a wide yawn as he started to stretch his wakening limbs. "Molly, if you're going to sit here, maybe I can take your place in bed?"

"Molly," Mama whispered from across the room. "Come back to bed dear and try and take some rest. John and Willie will be able to take some sleep when day breaks, but you will not be as lucky."

I was still wide awake as I lay down beside my mother. She put her arm across me for warmth, and soon I could hear her steady breathing. Papa and Willie were whispering to themselves, and I could see in the darkish haze they were sharing a flask. Whatever it takes to make it through I thought to myself as I closed my eyes to try and get some sleep.

A few nights later, George's party returned to camp with one hundred bags of pemmican. MacDonell greeted them at the storehouse. He was accompanied by three heavily armed men. For people who are almost near the point of starvation, pemmican is just as important as money. Now that he had the food, no man was going to take it.

I didn't care about any of these things. My hunger was not a concern. All I wanted was to see George again and hold him in my arms and tell him how much I had missed him. Once he was dismissed by the Governor, he turned to face me. He was in a lot of pain. Although he smiled when he saw me, I knew there was something wrong with him. As he walked towards me, he was clearly favouring his right shoulder.

"Molly, seeing you is like looking into the eyes of an angel. Every night you are in my dreams, and during the day I think about you with every step."

"Oh George, I've been so worried about you ever since you left over a fortnight ago. Come and get yourself warmed up with a cup of tea."

"We've been walking since day first broke with only a little stop to rest. I'm afraid I might fall asleep and spill tea all over."

"I'll hold it for you."

Everyone was glad to see George. No one wanted to admit it, but his mission was dangerous. The snow is deep, the wind is freezing, and who could tell what kind of enemies, whether man or beast, might meet them on their path.

"Sit down son," my father gestured to a bench close to the fire. "Have Molly help you out of those winter furs. No doubt you've had them on for a long time."

As I pulled his coat from off his shoulders, George started to wince in pain. His coat had a large tear where the shoulder meets the arm. Then I saw the stain of blood on his shirt, from his shoulder blade all the way down to his wrist. I started to get dizzy at the sight, and I certainly would have fainted if not for the steady hand of my mother who kept me from falling.

"That's quite a wound you've got there," Willie started. "I thought this was not a dangerous job: with surprise on your side you would be in and out without a fight?"

"It's nothing but a flesh wound. The bullet only grazed the skin and did not sink in. I've been stitched as best as possible, and I hope it will heal quickly. With the amount of food we took, it was worth a little bit of pain. We have one hundred bags here for the rest of the winter, and we left behind three hundred bags under guard with Mr. Howse, the factor of HBC Brandon House."

"And we are most thankful you did this for us George," Mama responded, after making sure I was able to find a chair. "But this still does not explain what happened to your shoulder."

"I don't want you to worry, especially Molly, but I know I can't keep the events of the past few days a secret." Taking the tea from me, George took a small sip. He stared into his cup, unsure how to begin. "We did have surprise on our side as we ambushed the traders at La Souris on the banks of the Assiniboine. It was a cloudy night. Although the moon was full, little could be seen as we silently crept up to the fort. Entering was a simple matter, since there was only a single unarmed guard on duty, snoring and farting like some farm animal."

"They had not yet heard about MacDonell's proclamation, so they were caught completely unaware of our purpose. It was not a simple thing to bind the hands of the four men we caught. Two of them were passive, while two others, cursing and spitting, tried to make an attempt to overcome us. But Sheriff Spencer, used to the art of getting his way, took the blunt end of his rifle, hitting one man square in the chin while felling the other with a blow to the stomach. Both men collapsed to the ground, instantly, and as I moved closer to bind their hands, I could smell the stench of alcohol on their breath."

"Once we had these four restrained, we commenced taking almost all provisions they had. I say almost all, since no good Christian should leave a man without anything to live on. Everything would have gone by without incident if not for the fifth man who went unnoticed. We were there at least two hours loading our cargo without the least possible indication there was another man waiting for his chance to act."

"As darkness faded into dawn, we made our way back to the security of Brandon House, when shots could be heard from our backs. From the height of the walls, I could see all of the traders were free from our ropes and looking for revenge. Soon after turning back to make my escape, I felt a sharp sting, like a bee sting, on my right shoulder. The pain soon became unbearable: I couldn't drag the bags in the sled along the snow. I thank God others who noticed what had happened were there to help me back to the safety of our own fort."

"Were you the only one to take a bullet?" my uncle asked.

"We were so far away, they were lucky any of us got hit at all. Not looking for a real fight, the Nor' Westers stayed in their fort, taking shots from behind the wall hoping someone might get hit. As fate would have it, I was the one who got hit. There was a lot of blood, a trail of it in the snow pushed even further into the ground by the weight of my pemmican sled. But it was only a graze, a flesh wound at best."

"We stayed a couple of days at Brandon House on constant alert. The Nor'Westers did not attempt to mount a resistance against us. They knew how many of us there were, and against the five of them, they did not stand a chance."

"There were twelve of us, although I was useless with my injury. Mr. Spencer has some basic medical knowledge, and he was able to dress my wound and stitch it up. The last few days have been a struggle. With my ration of alcohol, I have poured it on my shoulder to help keep infection away."

"That's a terrible way to use a ration of alcohol," my uncle quipped. "A better way would be always to drink to numb the pain."

"Willie," Mama started, "Don't you go on now about the drink. George, it's time you took off your shirt so I can have a little look at your shoulder. I've had some experience dealing with wounds, same as Mrs. Docherty. Now you're back safe, we'll make sure you're taken care of well."

"It's too bad Doctor Edwards is no longer here to help take care of you George," I lamented.

George carefully took off his white shirt. His wound was stitched up rather well. There was redness around the cut, but it did not look like it had any infection. Thank God it was only a small flesh wound. If he got an actual bullet to the shoulder, the conversations we would be having now would be much different.

"That looks mighty painful," Papa said. "It must have been difficult carting all that pemmican through the snow back to our fort."

"I struggled with the weight of my sled. I took rope and wrapped it around my waist. This way, I was able to drag my sled at a slow pace behind the others. It was a few days march through the snow, and thoughts of all my friends back here kept me going as I put one snowshoe in front of the other."

"You mean thoughts of Molly," my uncle said, laughing out loud.

"That's enough William," Mama scolded. "One more joke and I'll make sure to silence your tongue but quick."

"Oh Fiona, please accept my apology. That's quite a story George, but now is not the time to be too serious. Now is the time to have a celebration. Our good Mr. Cooper has made it back, a little worse than when he left, but he has made it back." Pulling out a flask from his breast pocket, Willie held it up and started to shake it, prodding others who had a flask on them to do the same.

"In this land," Willie started, "There have not been too many chances to celebrate heroes, but tonight we change that with the return of George Cooper. Our good Bayman here suffered through snow and bullets to provide us with the food we need.

Just when I thought Willie was about to take a drink, he did a surprising thing. He took his flask, and made a motion to pour some of his alcohol on George's shoulder. George accepted. The pain was obvious, but he kept himself composed and did not flinch.

"Not to take away from the celebration," Papa said, "But what of the traders from the North West? Surely they are not going to sit around while we take every last bit of pemmican from them?"

"MacDonell has done a bold thing," George replied. "Even more colonists are expected to arrive this summer. Hopefully, with greater numbers, we will not be harassed as we build and settle. But these fur traders and Metis are dangerous men, so I suspect something will happen, perhaps not soon, but something will happen."

"So much for celebration," my uncle said sarcastically.

Chapter 31

"I'm a Highlander just like you after all. Surely it can't hurt any of you to hear what I have to say."

"But aren't you the one so dead set against us here in the first place?" Papa suspiciously asked, not allowing Duncan Cameron entrance into our soddie.

"I know what you might think about me, but all I mean to do is talk to you. I've been to see a few settlers these last couple of weeks."

"I've heard," Papa replied.

"Then you probably have heard what I'm talking to people about."

""Tell me what it is you want to say. We've got a lot of work to do this morning as you already well know."

"May I come into your house at least?" Cameron politely asked.

"Alright then, come in and sit down at the table."

"Liam," Papa ordered, "Take your brother and go outside for a while. We need to have a talk with this man and we don't need any fooling around."

Nodding, Liam took Calum's hand and led him out.

Sitting down, Cameron took a small opportunity to view the surroundings. Papa and Mama were here, but Willie had left earlier in the morning to visit Chloe. We had just finished our breakfast and were getting ready to commence another long, hard day as settlers on the western plains.

"How have you been getting along this second summer by the river?" Mr. Cameron asked. "It looks like you've got a sturdy dwelling here, strong like the folks who live inside it."

"Enough with the pleasant talk," Papa coldly replied. "You've come here for a reason, and I don't think that reason is to make any friends, so why don't you get on with your business right quick."

"You're a man of business Mr. Fraser," Cameron started, "And that is something I respect in a man. Now, I know what it is people say about me: all I worry about is filling my own pockets with coin. Let me tell you right now this is nothing but a pack of lies to make me look bad."

"I am a military man, Mr. Fraser. I've fought with the British and have been in this country working for the North West Company for thirty years. I am a Captain, as you can clearly see from my uniform, and what's more I am a Loyalist."

"A Loyalist?" I inquired about our guest.

"Ah yes," Cameron replied turning towards me. "I've heard about you Miss. Fraser, a strong woman wise beyond her years. A loyalist I am, having been kicked out of my own home as a young boy. My family pledged loyalty to his majesty George III, and for this we were cast from our home in New York and forced to make a new life for ourselves in the Quebec frontier, now given the name of Upper Canada."

"Being loyal to the king was a crime?" I asked.

"When taxed and not given anything in return, yes, I would say loyalty to the King of England was a crime. I was luckily young enough to escape jail. Along with my mother and two sisters, we were ordered to leave and never to return. The same could not be said for my poor father. The Patriots in our town took him and threw him in jail. He could not fight back to keep what he had worked so hard for. He rotted away in a jail cell for God knows how long before death took him from this earth."

"You see Molly, Mr. Fraser, Mrs. Fraser, we have much in common. I know you were also kicked out of your home, the place where children were born, a place full of happy memories, and to come to what? A sod hut in the western wilderness."

"What happened when you were forced to leave your home in New York?" I asked, fascinated with this man's story. A smirk started to form beneath his heavy beard.

"That is a story of misfortune Miss Fraser. We were promised much by the British, but in return received very little from a country we did not want to break away from. How long we lived in tents by the St. Lawrence River I cannot say. Starvation was a daily companion during those cold winters when a simple broth made from the bones of a sparrow was considered a wonderful feast. When land was finally given, the plot given to my mother was small and hard to cultivate. We worked our fingers down to the bone."

"If the British treated you so unfairly," Mama asked, "Then why do you wear their colours?"

"It was not always bad. Yes, in the beginning, we were just like you, settlers in a new land trying to survive the cold winters and the mosquito infested summers. We lived close to the French, and that was not an easy thing to get used to. They have their own laws, religion, and language, and they are just born and bred different. Once there was enough English folk, they divided the land up into a French and British side, with different laws for both."

"When Simcoe, the Lieutenant Governor, came to Upper Canada, things started to get better for us. We moved to a much larger plot of land near the shores of Lake Ontario, and life for those who have made that land their home improves with every passing year. We are a strong lot, us Upper Canadians. Not even the most recent attempt of an American invasion could stop us from defending and dying for what we have."

"An American Invasion?" I exclaimed, clearly unaware of anything this man was talking about.

"News of the world does not come to these parts," Cameron replied. "We have fought against the Americans for the last three years, and I'm glad to say the war is over. They thought they could march into our land, but they were dead wrong."

"Who won?" I asked.

"Why we won of course," Cameron proudly replied, "Although if you ask a damn American they might say the same bloody thing. It does not really matter much now. What matters is Upper Canada is safe and secure, and it's a place where good people like you live and prosper in."

Cameron reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a silver flask. It was dark in our shelter, the soddie is always dark, but the flask shone with the little rays of sunshine that sometimes found their way through the holes in the walls. Opening it, he took a long drink before handing it to my father. "You are not going to find good brandy like this anywhere around here Mr. Fraser. This stuff came to me from Montreal. You must take a drink. Please, be my guest."

Not nearly as suspicious as he was earlier in the conversation, Papa took the flask from Mr. Cameron and helped himself to a long drink, perhaps a little too long seeing as we had just finished our breakfast. "That's mighty good," Papa exclaimed, handing the flask back to Mr. Cameron who put it back into his pocket.

"I have a case back at the fort under lock and key. Nobody gets to this stuff, and if they try they'll get a good club to the head for their efforts. For a good Scot like you sir, I have no problems with sharing some of the good things given to me. That's why I'm here, to offer you something truly good, a chance to live the kind of life you should be living."

"What can you offer me I cannot already get from MacDonell and the Baymen? They have taken care of us for the most part. We've had places to stay when we could not care for ourselves. And when we were near the point of starvation, MacDonell made sure we were fed by keeping food in this area."

"Hmmm," Cameron gruffly replied. "And an illegal thing that was for him to do too. But enough. Mr. Fraser, this is your second summer here at Red River. Maybe you'll do fine this season, but then again maybe you won't. This land is no place for a man with a family. It's rough here. It's all wilderness. Death can come to a man at any time unless his wits are truly about him."

"Thank God I took my wits with me from Scotland then."

"Aye, thank God indeed, but don't you think you should have more for your efforts? Here in this inhospitable land, good things come slowly, if not at all. The people who have lived here for generations do so because they are willing to move as the buffalo move, not put up stakes, build a home and hope for a good harvest."

"So what are you offering me?" Papa asked with impatience in his voice.

"I'm offering a chance to move to Upper Canada, a chance to start over in a land where you'll have a good life to raise your kids. It's a place where there still is plenty of land for people who are willing to work hard. There will be two hundred acres for any family who wishes to move. The North-West Company will also pay any wages due to them by Selkirk. And finally, if most of you decide to make this one final voyage, free provisions will be provided for an entire year."

"I've heard this all before," Papa angrily stated. "We were given free passage here. We were told things would be provided for us. We were told a new Highland could be made by the banks of the two rivers off in the distance. We were told the same thing oh so long ago in Scotland. Why the hell should I now believe you?"

"I understand what you are saying," Cameron sweetly replied. "Selkirk and his great plan for a colony. The man has no idea what he was doing. He thinks he is helping the poor, but all he is doing is sending good men and women to a fate almost worse than death. You've all suffered here because the apple you all expected to get actually ended up being a giant turd."

"That may be true, but we are not the kind of folks to get up and quit when things get a little rough. I know what you are proposing rings true for many people, and perhaps I might be out of my mind to refuse your offer, but I have never shied away from hard work. We may not have been given an apple like you say, but as God is my witness I will try damn hard to turn it into an apple with the strength of my arm and the sweat from my brow. It has been two summers already. What more could possibly happen to us that has not happened already?"

"More than you might know. Your Governor stirs up trouble and hatred with his actions, and if you are not careful, you might be caught right in the middle of it all. This is something no man should desire for his family. I ask you again Mr. Fraser, take me up on this offer as some other colonists have done. Safe passage to Upper Canada is nothing you should dismiss lightly without some thought. Please, just take some time to think about it. I know you have a brother, a young hothead I am told, who is not here. Speak to him, and then come and see me with your answer."

"I've told you what I think of the matter already."

"Again, just think about it." Gathering himself, Cameron got up and was about ready to leave. "Be warned, an action has been taken against your Governor MacDonell for illegally seizing our pemmican. A warrant is out for his arrest, and soon he will be in our custody and transferred to Montreal to stand trial for his crimes against the North West Company. Don't be a fool and stay back when soon there might not be any around to protect you," he hissed.

Cameron's words were menacing as he hastily went to the door. Taking a good look in my direction before he left, I could see the angry creases in his forehead. He was about to say something to me, perhaps get me to reason with Papa, then thought the better of it and **made** his way abruptly outside. He was simply not a man to be rejected.

Later that day, as I quietly went about my chores, I wondered what other families decided. Cameron was not simply inviting people to leave, he was demanding it. The words rolled off his tongue with such ease. But unlike the serpent in the Garden of Eden, we didn't take what he offered. And that's when his calm request changed dramatically into a sinister command.

Willie had spent a longer time than usual with Chloe during the day. It was well past dinner when he finally made it home. Coming into the shelter, he quickly made his way to the table where he promptly sat down, laying his head above his arms, keeping his face hidden.

"Brother, are you alright?" Papa inquired. "You didn't help out in the fields like usual. You also missed a visit from that Cameron fellow who works for the North West."

Willie picked up his head ever so slowly. By the light of the candle, his eyes looked puffy and a little swollen, yet whether it was from drinking or fighting I couldn't tell. He stared at all of us coldly. "Chloe and her family," my uncle quietly began, "They are leaving here with whoever else has decided to take up the offer."

"Aye," Papa replied, "So you know about it all already. He tried hard to convince us to leave. Cameron has the smooth tongue of a snake. I distrust him, as I distrust anything said to me by either Baymen or North-Westers. Only when there is a gun pointing at me or the ones I love will I be forced to believe anything told to me."

"I'm with you brother, but there are many others who are not. Too many of us are simply fed up, not willing to try and finish what we have started. Chloe's father, McCarthy, is one of them. I knew you would refuse the serpent's temptation, but now I am torn between two decisions."

I quietly made my way to where my uncle sat. I gently placed my hands on his shoulders and started to squeeze ever so slightly. I knew exactly how he felt, what a difficult decision it would be to be torn between a woman to make your own and a family that has always been there through every struggle. No doubt it's the strength of our family that makes his decision even more difficult than it should be.

"We are going to stay, yet Chloe is going to leave for Upper Canada," I quietly started. "I know if I were in your position, I would find the decision almost unbearable to make. You can't quickly marry Chloe and have her stay with us Uncle?"

"To be married is something I want, but not forced to do it because some Scot in a red coat stirs up people's fears. Mr. McCarthy will not have his daughter stay, and I will not leave. It's bloody simple. I've spent the last little while saying goodbye."

"Brother," Papa interrupted, "Are you sure you are doing the right thing? We don't want to see you leave, but we also want you to be happy, and if that means going with Chloe..."

"As long as we are being threatened, as long as there are Frasers who are in the way of harm, I will never be happy, whether married to a nice girl or a bachelor for all of my days. No John, I have spent some time thinking about this, and although I'm pissed, I have made the right decision. In a few days, there will no doubt be many families who will pack up their belongings for another journey, another beginning. I will not be with them."

We all stood there for a moment in silence. Although saddened, I was relieved he would not be leaving us. There may be a time in the future when he would no longer be with us, but I can't start worrying about what hasn't happened. In a few days, our numbers would certainly decrease with many people leaving for Upper Canada. Who knows what other plans Duncan Cameron might have to rid this land of Selkirk's Settlers. Somehow I doubt he will extend any invitations to us for a second time.

Chapter 32

Only thirteen families remained after everyone who chose to go left. Of two hundred or so settlers, there were only sixty of us who chose not to take up Cameron's offer.

It was such a sad day when Mr. Docherty came to give us a tearful farewell. Ever since the days back in New Lanark, when his wife was there to help with the birth of Calum, the Docherty's have been great friends. Everything we experienced, they also had an equal share in. Whether it was misery or success, Robert and Arwen were with us, until now. For Liam, the loss of his best friend Angus has been tough. You can only be consoled so much when the one person you trust the most outside of your family is ripped apart from you.

Arwen Docherty wants no more of Red River. Last year, on that night when men violently came on their land and set their shed on fire, Arwen was scared, and no amount of comfort could shake her out of how she felt. She was so afraid that night, not even the courageous words of her young son could console her. It's one thing to brave the elements, wind and rain, for these are things we don't have control over. You try your best to deal with the hand the Lord has given you. But when people go out of their way to harm you, you do what is necessary to bring yourself peace of mind: you leave.

On June 15th, a supply of canoes was obtained to take the settlers one thousand miles to the heart of Upper Canada. As settlers packed the canoes tight and got ready to leave, I noticed that everyone who chose to stay was there to say goodbye, except for my uncle. I know his decision to stay was heart breaking, and he did not need to be reminded of this choice as Chloe floated out of his life forever.

To protect the settlers, Governor MacDonell had given himself up to Duncan Cameron. MacDonell, I'm told, has already started the long journey to Montreal where he will face charges of stealing pemmican from The North West Company. In all his arrogant glory, Cameron stood across the river from us, flask in hand, toasting to the health of those about to undertake the long journey east towards a place called Lake Superior. Liam started to run with the canoes by the side of the river, but eventually he gave up, only to return and bury his tearful head in Mama's chest.

"If there is a god, may he grant them a safe journey," I heard Papa say as he waved to the canoes off in the distance.

"We've done this type of travel before," I replied, "So hopefully their voyage will be uneventful, and without an endless number of portages."

George stood quietly beside me. I could see the look of concern he had on his face. "I hope you are right Molly, but they may see some trouble."

"From where?" I curiously asked.

"From Selkirk's agents who are spread throughout the area and know what is happening. Remember we were shipped here at great expense, so in a way we are all still indebted to Selkirk and the Hudson's Bay. Each settler who took up the offer to leave has acted as a traitor to the interests of the Hudson's Bay."

"Surely calling all those good people traitors goes too far," I angrily replied.

"Molly, Mr. Fraser, please believe me when I say I do not consider any one of those people traitors. I just know this is how they will be regarded in the eyes of those who have gone to great expense to have us settle in this area."

"Aye," Papa responded. "Those very same people we counted on to help us might turn on them for their act of disloyalty."

"Well, as you say Mr. Fraser, may God grant them a safe journey."

"The next time I see Robert Docherty, hopefully it will be in heaven, for we have already spent quite enough time together here in hell."

"Oh Papa," I laughed, giving him a playful push.

It didn't take long for Duncan Cameron's true motives to be made known. With only sixty settlers left, we had thought, had hoped, that we could be left alone to live quietly and peacefully. We would not get any help from the North West, but we would also not be harassed by them as well. This is what I had prayed for, but it didn't happen.

After ten days a summons was read to us. Only a while ago we said goodbye to dear departed friends, and now the price of loyalty to Selkirk was being made loud and clear. Cameron was nowhere to be found, but in his place there was another man equal to the task of making our lives miserable. How tragic it was when I found out that he was called MacDonell as well.

The morning was hot and sweat trickled down my face. The rash of mosquitoes was at its worst. Even in the heat of the day, you could feel them buzzing around your head. It was under these hot and bothersome conditions that Alexander MacDonell, agent of the North West Company, quickly declared his summons.

"All settlers are to retire immediately from Red River, and no trace of a settlement is to remain." It was that quick. No reasons were given, no explanation of what we were to do or where we were to go. Simply leave.

I was stunned by the news. I did not think the men of the North West Company had the power to simply force us to leave. As I stared at the ground in disbelief, my mind wandered back to when we were forced from our croft in Argyll. Is the same thing happening?

I was pulled out of my thoughts into the present crisis by screaming coming from a man guarding this new MacDonell. Settlers were throwing stones, and some of them were hitting the mark. The Metis that accompanied MacDonell were on horseback, and the horses started to move nervously as stones, thrown by angry settlers all around me, flew furiously. I picked up a small rock close to my feet and was about to join in when a loud shot made me stop immediately.

"You all had your chance," MacDonell start to scream, "And you all foolishly decided to stay. Duncan Cameron came to each one of you, politely offering the hospitality and good will of The North West Company, but you decided you were too proud to take from this new hand of friendship. And now, you pelt us with stones like animals, like dogs. You chose poorly, and now you will leave or face the consequences."

A lone rock flew from behind me, glancing off of MacDonell's cheek. He was able to duck in time: the full force of the throw did not hit him square in the face. A slow stream of blood started to ooze from where the stone hit. The aim was close to perfect.

"Get that little runt," MacDonell screamed, "And bring him here for a good horse whipping!"

Turning around, I saw exactly who he was talking about. It was Liam, so angry at the loss of his friend. He started to run back to our shelter and was being chased by one of MacDonell's guards on horseback.

I have never seen Papa run so fast before in my entire life. He made a dash for this one man sent out to capture Liam. With a strength I thought not possible, he leapt into the air and tackled the Metis to the ground. While on top of him, Papa started to beat him with his fists, one after the other. If it wasn't for the quickness of my uncle, the guard would certainly have been killed for threatening my family.

All of MacDonell's guards pulled out their guns and held them high so everyone could see they were heavily armed. Papa raised his hands high and slowly got off the man who he had beaten into unconsciousness. One Metis had his gun pointed directly at Papa's chest.

"Don't," I yelled as I hurried to Papa's side. "He was just protecting his son, my brother. Don't shoot!!"

The Metis kept his gun pointed at Papa. The sweat poured even more forcefully down my neck, sticking to me like a second skin. I tried to grab hold of him, but he turned to me with a look that said to stay back. Papa's hands were high in the air in a gesture of surrender, while Uncle Willie kept his arms to his sides with his fists at the ready. But what good are fists when you have a gun pointed to your head? Thankfully, Liam was now far gone.

"No one will die here today," the Metis started. "Today, all we are doing is issuing a summons. In two days, you all must leave. If you stay, you may end up in flames just like your homes."

His voice was sinister, yet I also noticed he had a small Scottish accent. He was different than all the other Metis I have ever encountered.

"Who is this man that threatens us with the voice of a Scot?" my uncle angrily demanded.

"I may sound Scottish, but I am Metis. I am Cuthbert Grant, and I will tell you, all of you, that anyone who dares to try and test us again will feel a bullet enter their chest. Today, however, it is only a warning." Quickly he approached Papa and, using his musket as a club, hit my father in the chest with such force he crumpled to the ground in a heap. I had never seen someone do that to him before. I bent down over him and tried to help him as he was gasping to get air back into his lungs. After a moment, he was starting to breathe normally again, but he was in a great deal of distress.

"You have two days to remove yourself from this country," MacDonell screamed, pressing his cheek with a cloth to stop the flow of blood. For a moment, I had forgotten he was there and in charge. It was this Scottish Metis, this Cuthbert Grant, who filled my heart with terror.

"Where do you expect us to go?" my uncle screamed. Even though he was asking MacDonell, his eyes, like mine, were fixed squarely on Grant who still kept his finger on the trigger. Grant was impressive looking. He was tall, and he carried himself in front of us like he was the leader.

"You can go to hell," Grant started. "My people have been here for generations. We live the way you are supposed to live in the West, free like the buffalo that feed us, clothe us, sustain us. What are you, but strangers in a strange land. You can go to hell for all I care. Your company has no claim to this land, and neither do you."

"Those are mighty strong words," my uncle started, not one to back down from a fight. "It seems to me a gun in your hand gives you the right to say as you please. I wonder how you would talk if you weren't so armed?"

"You're a wild dog," Grant coolly replied, not willing to take the bait. "And like all dogs, you can run away with your tail between your legs, or I will use this gun and put you down for good."

"Big talk," my uncle scornfully replied, spitting at his feet in disgust. The man Papa had beaten lay groaning on the ground, shifting his weight from side to side. Papa rose from the ground with my help. He softly lifted up his right hand, begging for Willie to stop before turning something violent into something deadly.

"Willie, calm your words. I'm the one who has suffered the worst here. No one else need suffer on this day."

"Listen carefully to this one," Grant quietly said, his finger still on the trigger of his gun. "MacDonell has made his summons, and you are all to leave this land. Go to your shelters and prepare. In two days, we come back with torches, guns, and many more men. Everything in this area now belongs to The North West Company. Anything you have built will be destroyed."

"Have pity," I pleaded as the tears started to well up in my eyes. "We've been promised so much, and this is all we have left. We are poor, and all we ask for is the chance to try to scratch out a small living without interference. I don't care about your fur trade, just my family. Can't you understand this?"

Grant carefully studied me. He cocked one eyebrow as if seriously contemplating what I had said. I don't think he has ever had much contact with women, especially with women who were not Metis. It almost seemed for a moment, although brief, that he might take pity on me, on us. The moment was only brief.

"I am not moved by your entreaties," he said, facing me. His gaze was so intense; it was as if we were the only two people present. His look was hypnotic, and that terrified me all the more. "Every effort was made to assist your departure. You foolishly declined what was offered. Two days is now all you have left. Any man, woman, or child left after two days should pray to their maker, for they will soon meet him if the men who are with me have anything to say about it."

"You cold hearted bastard," my uncle clearly said behind clenched teeth.

"I have been called worse. Go now, and make preparations for your departure."

Grant confidently turned around, quietly walking back to where his horse was being held. He did not turn to look back because he didn't need to. As far as he was concerned, his word was law and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

"We should have left when we had the chance," Mama said to me when the Metis were far from view. "Arwen is on her way, safe from harm. They may not know exactly where they are going, but at least they've got a destination. What do we have? A threat to leave and no place to leave to."

Papa put his arm around Mama. "Fiona, we've got a couple of days to pack what we can. We better get home and find out how Liam is doing. There better not be any of Grant's men moving about. I swear if any of them lays a hand on any of us, I'll make sure to finish the job and kill him."

"Get in line brother," Willie bitterly replied. "I held back today, but I won't hold back the next time a gun is pointed at us. I don't care if I get shot at. I'll make sure if someone tries to take me down, I will take them down first."

"We'll need to get some guns then," George suggested, as all of the settlers started to gather around us. "If Grant is true to his word, nothing will be left of the Hudson's Bay. All the storehouses and other buildings we have spent so much time putting up will be destroyed in only a day."

"I may have some guns you might use," a strange voice piped up from behind me. "I can spare a couple, but I don't intend to leave based on a threat from some damnable Metis."

"What do you intend to do Mr. McLeod?" George asked. John McLeod was a fellow Bayman like George, but he was someone who did not normally speak to us. Most Baymen stayed close to the fort, not close to the settlers. "There's many of them on horses, and there is only few of us. What chance can you have if you intend to stay?"

"I'll raid the blacksmith, get anything I can for my three pound cannon. I'll cut up pieces of chain for shot and shell, and I'll fortify myself with three or four other men. I have enough powder to last until we get help out this way. George, you must go with these people. You know I would ask you to stay, but you have to go with your girl and her family."

"Lake Winnipeg is the best place to take the colonists to," McLeod continued. "They will be safest there. You know George, Selkirk intends to keep bringing people here. He's convinced a great settlement can be established. He'll be pissed when he finds out so many of his people, his first and second wave of immigrants, left when a little heat was applied by the North West and their friends. Anyhow, if more people are coming, and I know they are, it's at the tip of Lake Winnipeg where you'll meet them and then decide what to do next."

"More settlers to come to an empty settlement," moaned Papa at the thought of having to leave and go back from where we came from.

"The next time I see you Fraser," McLeod responded, "And there will be a next time, you will have many men with you who will stand up to these Metis. Cuthbert Grant can intimidate when he is well armed, but we'll see what happens when the odds even out."

Two days later, there were boats and canoes waiting for us by the river. It was another hot day, too hot to be travelling against the current. We were all loaded down with as much as we could lift. Calum was even expected to carry as much as he could without complaint. As we slowly made our way to the boats, Metis horsemen could be seen in the distance, torches held high in the air. No sooner did people leave than their sheds and homes were set on fire. Multiple ribbons of smoke filled the sky, choking the air and making the tears sting all the more as they painfully slid down my cheeks.

It took some time to load up the boats with the supplies we had. All the women and children among us were crying, while the men held their gazes to the ground, too ashamed to look upon their loved ones. This was an utter defeat, pure and simple.

When I looked back at our settlement, at the wisps of smoke that cut across a bright blue sky, I am reminded of a story Papa heard from Great Uncle Donnan. There was another group of people, The Acadians, who were forced to leave their homes to start their lives all over again. They had been living for generations on their land, and the British expelled them in order to give their lands to someone else. To make sure no Acadian would come back to reclaim their homes, they were burned to the ground without a trace. Many of them died as they tried, and failed, to make a new life somewhere else. We are not the Acadians. Certainly, our situation is much worse. At least they had the opportunity to live in a home they could call their own. From the crofts in Scotland to the soddies here in the North West, we have never had claim to anything, even when it was promised to us.

Chapter 33

Mine is a life on endless repeat. It's the same story over and over again. I am a dog chasing its tail, running constant circles only to find the prize unattainable. I'm a young child reaching for something my fingers cannot quite grasp, only to lose out on what I desire. I am a woman who cannot enjoy the privileges my age and rank give me, condemned instead to a nomadic life of exile. Forced to leave yet again, never to stay, always to lose out on what I want, what my fingers try to reach out for to hold. The same slow buzzing of insects around my head, creating a dull pounding that seems to always stay, never to leave. The ragged looks on faces, without smiles and happiness. I am a mad Scot turning slowly mad...

I've seen my reflection from time to time in the water. When the water and wind are still, I marvel at how dispirited I look, how defeated. As I push with the oar against the current, I create creases, lines in the flowing river and on my face that make me feel so much older than my sixteen years. The movement of the oar as it hits the water makes me feel beaten down, almost broken. Often, I turn away from the water, from this image, and I focus my attention on George. He is only a little older than me, and he has experienced equally in our pain, our hardships. If there was anyone who was holding themselves upright, taking on the role of a hero, it's George. It's why I adore him so much. He does not look down, but rather ahead. He carries himself with a quiet dignity, a grace I am blessed to be in the presence of. Once we are finally settled, once we are free from the challenges of constant movement and fear, I will make George Cooper my husband. Hopefully when that time comes, he will still want a woman whose age is so much greater than her actual years.

"Molly," George calls out to me from across our canoe, "Is everything alright?"

"Forgive me George," I responded, startled a little to be pulled from my thoughts. "I've been dreaming with my eyes open."

"There's nothing to forgive. We all go through quiet moments. I can see the look of worry in your eyes, but I want you to trust me and not worry. We will be fine."

I wondered to myself if George believed his words? "How long do you think it will take to get to our next destination?"

"We are heading for the tip of Lake Winnipeg, and I don't think it will take too long to get there, probably a few days at the least. Once we are there, we wait to see who will come for us. If Mr. McLeod is right, there will be others who will come to meet us, and help organize a forceful return."

"I like the sound of that," I heard my uncle respond a few seats ahead of me. "I want the chance to go back and face down Cuthbert Grant as an equal, with a loaded gun in my hand."

"That may happen sooner than you might expect," George replied.

True to George's word, we were camped by the shores of Lake Winnipeg for only a week before we were approached by a group of men in four canoes. The women and children hid away from shore in the tall weeds while all the men stood by the ready, with what weapons we had at our disposal- clubs, knives, the few guns we possessed- to greet these strangers. Everyone was angry and itching for a fight. Even Papa, always so calm, shook as he held a club in his hands. He was beaten once, and it would not happen to him again. If it were Metis who were approaching, the first impulse would be to shoot and not talk.

As the party of men approached the shore, I vaguely recollected seeing one of them before, but for the life of me I could not place him right away. Waving to George and the others on shore, I knew we had come across friends. Twenty men came to greet us, but only one of them truly stood out. What shocked me was the leader of this group, the man who was almost a head taller than everyone else, was none other than Colin Robertson.

When I realized who it was, a wave of memory overtook me. I couldn't believe this was the same man who long ago persuaded so many of us to start over again. I remembered my first impressions of him as I sat in Greyfriars Church in New Lanark. I was entranced by his clothes, his stories, and his sense of adventure. I was such a young girl back then. Although I was certainly glad to see him, a friendly face in an unfriendly area, there was a part of me who also wanted to hit him across the face for selling Lord Selkirk's false fantasy of a paradise along Red River.

In the back of his craft, Mr. Robertson had a very large flask which he grabbed as his canoe was pulled to the shore. Upon seeing him more closely, I noticed that age had taken hold of his face. He was a man grey too early, with an equal share of wrinkles and creases stretching from cheek to cheek.

"Is everyone well?" Mr. Robertson asked as the men greedily drank from what he offered them.

Although not in charge, Willie took it upon himself to act like he was. "Is everyone well? What a question this fine gentleman asks us. I remember you sir from long ago. Your words fell from your lips like honey, so convincing they were to all of us assembled. Aye, we are all well. Well enough to string you up by the ears and knock some sense into your head."

"And who are you?" Robertson coldly asked.

"My name is William Fraser, a Highlander from Argyll. Like my brother John you also see standing here, I come from a noble line of thieves, marauders, and drunkards. I thank you for the drink, because it saves me from having to take it from you by force."

Robertson stared at us quietly for a moment with a look of amazement. He probably thought he was coming to us as a saviour. I don't think he was ready for our scorn and anger.

"Listen to me, everyone," Robertson started. "I know how difficult things have been for you. I have lived in this land too, and I can tell you what you have suffered through I too have shared. I remember what I said to people as Selkirk's agent. Life on the frontier would be difficult: to take up the offer would not be easy."

"Hard work I can manage," Papa responded, while everyone around him nodded in agreement. "The voyage I too can manage. Hell, we spent winters at York Factory and Pembina, waiting for our chance to prove the land could not beat us. All these things, Mr. Robertson, I can manage. But when a man points a gun at my head and threatens my family... that I cannot manage unless I am equally armed."

"News of what happened has only reached me recently. I now know the North West Company placed Miles MacDonell under arrest for holding onto pemmican. Arresting him was an illegal act that we will overturn. It was only when passing by the settlement a few days ago that I realized the extent to which the North West Company has gone to destroy all of the work you have done. Rest assured everyone, we will go back in force to take from the North West what is rightfully ours."

"With what men?" Papa asked. "With everyone who is assembled here, how can we put up a resistance against Cameron, Cuthbert Grant, and his Metis followers?"

"More are on the way. I have heard a new group of settlers in a short time will make their way to Red River. We will meet with them and together claim the land once and for all."

"Poor buggers," Willie exclaimed. "They don't know all the delights of this country."

"They are sturdy folks, just like you," Mr. Robertson quickly replied to stop Willie from continuing further. "The group soon to join us comes from a rural parish on the East Coast of Sutherlandshire in Scotland. They're from Helmsdale and the parish of Kildonan with good Scottish names like Matheson, Bannerman, Sutherland, Polson, and Gunn. Leading them will be the new Governor of Red River, Captain Robert Semple."

"What's he like?" I anxiously asked.

"I am not familiar with the man," Mr. Robertson started. "I do know he has the full backing of the Hudson's Bay Company. He's an American from Philadelphia, and yet he has served in the British Army."

"What can he do that MacDonell couldn't?" Papa suspiciously asked.

"I can't answer your question, but I can tell you all even though you may feel abandoned, nothing could be farther from the truth. Lord Selkirk hopes to visit this land in a year, and he expects the colony to be established and thriving. He is not at all discouraged by reports suggesting both danger and difficulty."

"But how much is left, and how much is destroyed?" George inquired. "You said you passed by the settlement to find us here. Did you see Mr. McLeod? How has he fared?"

"Aye," Robertson replied. "It was McLeod who told me where I could find you. He told me all about Duncan Cameron's cunning. None of this will dampen Selkirk's mood of creating a settlement, however. Although many of your homes were destroyed by fire, some buildings close to the water remain, thanks to the stubbornness of that McLeod who refused to leave."

"How was he able to hold off Cuthbert Grant and his Metis followers?" I asked, wanting any bit of news I could possibly get.

"And who is this fine lady who continues to ask me questions?" Robertson courteously asked.

"My name is Molly, daughter of John, niece of William, once a Highland Fraser and now a Canadian Fraser."

"Well then, Miss Fraser of the Canadian Frasers," Mr. Robertson smiled as he spoke, "Let's just say that John McLeod possesses a large degree of pluck. With only one field piece and courage beyond compare, he and his men defended many of the colony's buildings. The Metis on their prairie ponies hovered around for a time, but none dared approach for fear of being blown to bits. When my men and I approached, the Metis were well westward in their own area, Qu'Appelle."

"So there are buildings to return to?" I inquired, unafraid of asking questions.

"Yes, there are buildings to return to. With the assistance of some freemen for hire across the river, McLeod has started construction on a new fort. Further down the river where the banks fall in, he has even laid out plans for a Governor's House."

"Things seem to be going much better than I would have thought," Papa interrupted. "Are there no attempts being made by the Metis to come back and finish the job they started by driving us away?"

"We will always need to be on our guard," Robertson responded. "But as it stands now, the North West Company did exactly what it wanted to: they were able to capture your governor and destroy the existing colony. They have no idea how many of us are coming back and our plans. An animal with a full belly does not strike out. That's what we have now with the North West. As far as they are concerned, the matter of Selkirk's colony is complete. We will show them otherwise."

"It's time to return the favour and do to them exactly what they did to us," Willie exclaimed.

Robertson looked at Willie sadly and shook his head. "Willie? I know you have thoughts of revenge. It did not take me long to see what kind of a strong, courageous man you are. But you have to be careful."

"We have been trampled on ever since we got here," Willie countered. "Why on earth do I now have to be careful?"

"Selkirk has land grant for this area. It entitles you to property, a fence, and a life. But my good man, there are many others here who also have claim to a life, people who have been here for generations. When you meet the Metis, you see them as aggressive, as warriors, but they see you as a threat and nothing more. Before I worked for the Hudson's Bay, I was a member of the North West, and I can tell you firsthand about the decency and civility of the men, women, and children who you protest against. I know this is not what you want to hear, but the best way to proceed is to build your life on the frontier, and not chase after others who have wronged you."

"That is a simple matter for you to say," my uncle angrily replied. "You have not lost as much as I have. I had plans to marry, but my family and their needs came first. I had plans to have children, a working farm, animals, all those things a decent Scot should have. So you'll have to forgive me if I don't see things the same way you do."

"There are many people who have suffered as much as you have Willie. Periods of drought, famine, floods have been as much a part of this land as the buffalo on the plains and the insects in the air. Let's go back together and build once more what was destroyed. If we pay attention to our own business, I am certain the life I once promised you long ago can be yours, with a wife, children, and all you can hopefully want."

"I don't think we have too much choice in the matter do we?" Papa asked. "We can't stay here, there is nothing for us. The only choice left is to return."

"What would you ask of Lord Selkirk to help satisfy your concerns?"

"We need more weapons, and more training as well. They come at us on horseback, and all we can do is run. We need horses too, and as many farm animals as can be brought..."

"I'm sure your needs can be looked after."

"I'm not finished," Papa quickly snapped, irritated at so quickly being cut off. "I want assurances no threats will come from the North West. When this new Governor comes, we want to know we will be safe. If this Semple cannot control the area, you will find an enemy not in the Metis but in me. I will not give anyone my respect until they have earned it."

"Mr. Fraser," Robertson started, "You have my word you and your family will be safe. All Lord Selkirk has wanted from the beginning was to help the poor crofters of Scotland find some dignity here on the western plains of Canada. It looks to me like you have always had it. I will do whatever I can to make sure you have all you need."

"Dignity I have. Just give me a home and a place to teach my sons how to become men."

Our home was completely destroyed, and we've had to camp close to Fort Douglas, close to the storehouse of weapons collected for protection. We came back with little attention drawn to us. As far as most are concerned, we are nothing but a few insects to be brushed aside with a wave of the hand. The men who forced us out have left, for now.

It did not feel strange coming back. The travel in this country, although intolerable, has become all too normal, part of the seasonal routine. Walk, paddle, walk, paddle... forced to always leave, never to stay...

After one week back at the forks, the new group of settlers with Governor Semple arrived. I've seen the look before. The men appear ready but unsure, and the women seem filled with regret, unable to turn back the clock. The children run around as if they've arrived home. I look at them as I would look into a mirror, a cracked, distorted mirror.

It did not take long for our new Governor to assert his authority over the region. It was a bright sunny day when we were all assembled outside of Fort Douglas, new and old settler alike. This event, once again, I've seen before, only with different names and different faces. The intent is always the same: a new start in this land that for us is no longer new. A new flag made its way up the flagstaff, as Governor Semple spoke.

"All citizens gathered here, let me officially recognize this land grant of Lord Selkirk's. For those of you who have just arrived with me, your long voyage across the ocean, and journey through the lakes and rivers of this great land have not been in vain, as you well know. You have endured long travel and portages, and now you can put up roots and claim the land granted to you."

"For those of you who have spent time in this country, let me assure you no harm will come to you under my leadership. I am a retired officer from the British Army, and I know what it will take to both make the peace and keep the peace. You need not fear the men who inhabit Fort Gibraltar across the river. In due time, they will be dealt with in the correct way."

Standing beside me, George whispered, "I wonder what he means by deal with in the correct way?"

"Maybe he wants to take the fight to them," I offered.

"Before I continue further," Semple continued, "I think it right a prayer be said by Minister Sutherland. Good Christian faith will be brought to the frontier. Mr. Sutherland, please, a prayer for this fine occasion."

"Quite right," Mr. Sutherland replied. "Dear Lord, we thank you for this beautiful day in this beautiful land. We count ourselves as blessed, those who have gathered here under tremendous strain and hardship. As we continue, Heavenly Father, grant each and every one of us the courage to stay true to your words and teachings. Continue to help Governor Semple, as he guides your flock of settlers in this western land. Help those who may oppose our presence here understand all we want is to live in peace. For this and all the blessings you can bestow, we pray in Jesus' name, Amen."

"Amen," came the murmur from all of those assembled. It certainly felt good to hear an ordained minister pray. Too long have we missed the softness of God's word.

"Thank you Mr. Sutherland for your prayer," Governor Semple said. "And now, it's time to show what sturdy folk you are. The soil needs to be tended to, and the buildings for the winter must be finished in quick order."

"Excuse me Governor," my uncle started. "How exactly do you intend to deal with those folks who inhabit the fort across the river?"

"My good man," Semple replied, clearly annoyed. "In time, the situation will be dealt with. Leave matters of a military nature to men who have knowledge of such things."

Colin Robertson, standing beside our new governor to show his support, started to shake his head for fear of what Willie might say. "Kind Governor," Willie responded, "Perhaps you would care to know a little about what has happened here. I may not have your great knowledge and understanding, but I do know a thing or two about men intent on violence and destruction. I know you are a military man, but there are some things I am sure even your books cannot teach you. I would be more than happy to take you around and introduce you to all the interesting people I have met here."

"Young man, what is your name?" Governor Semple demanded.

"William Fraser of Argyll," Willie responded as he spat at the ground where he stood. "I beg your pardon, but I did not prepare myself for this grand festival with the right amount of drink. Next time, I'll remember to finish the full bottle before I hear what you have to say."

Governor Semple's next response was quite surprising. Normally, Willie has the ability to turn people against him, but all Semple could do was to look at him and start laughing. It was not the response my uncle was used to receiving. "Well William Fraser, I may have to take you up on that offer. I'm thinking a promotion might be in order for you as well. You know, I write a little and I also read a little to. All heroes in the great books have someone with them, a person who tells the truth when no one else will. That person is usually the fool. Would you be so kind as to be my fool, young William of Argyll?"

"He can be your horse's ass too," Papa yelled out, trying to help lighten the mood.

"Yes, that would also be fine," Governor Semple replied. "Seriously now, Mr. Robertson has told me all about the trouble the early colonists faced. Certainly, there is much that I still need to learn, and in the upcoming days and weeks, I hope to find out as much as I can to make this a prosperous and successful colony. I have an idea about those who inhabit Fort Gibraltar across the river. Rest assured in good order those men will be dealt with."

What else could we do but trust him. He seems smart, a man of wisdom and experience. Perhaps he will do what our first Governor, Miles MacDonell, was unable to do: give us the chance to build a home, a life, making for poor Scottish crofters a Canadian Highland.

Chapter 34

June 19th, 1816 started out as a day like any other. Days have been tense, yet we do what is expected. Women tend to the fire and washing, men tend to the fields, children to their laughter... like any hot day, the insects swarm close by, sometimes blotting out the sun momentarily with their movement. Storms rage at night, and during the day, skies of blue can be seen forever, with only a hint of cloud to shield the colour.

Last summer, before we were forced to leave by the torch, we had at least lived in houses, cold and damp at night as they were. Before the soddies were burnt to the ground at the hands of the Metis, we had something to call our own, a small piece of property on the plains. Now, we inhabit a tent village placed close to the walls of Fort Douglas. Our new governor, supposedly ever careful of our needs, would have the settlers near in case of sudden attack, where the walls could provide protection for the women and children.

And yet, if he truly had our best interests at heart, why try to start a fight when a fight was not needed. Before Colin Robertson left, he spoke to my father once more about what it would take to live safely. We may not like those who inhabit the fort across the river, he said, but to thrive and survive, peace with the North West needs to be made. For Colin Robertson, a man who had worked for both companies, this was the only way.

This was not the approach taken by Governor Semple. Shortly after Robertson's departure for York Factory, Semple gave orders for the siege of Fort Gibraltar. With a company of thirty men, it took him a week to take over the fort and tear it down. To add to the insult, the stockade was dismantled and turned into a raft. On the raft was piled pieces of the buildings Semple used to erect our own fort.

"Semple is stupid and will bring us all to ruin," George quietly confided in me.

"Is he not proving how tough the HBC is?" I asked in return.

"He is proving he is a fool. I'm sure there are those among us, your uncle in particular, who like what he is doing. But Molly, this is an unnatural act. Take over a fort for a time to prove your strength, but have the grace to give it back with conditions once you have shown what you can do."

"What do you mean?" George's words were confusing me.

"The true strength of leadership is not the strength of arms but the strength of wisdom," George exclaimed. "Semple comes with something to prove. He feels he is doing what is right by the Hudson's Bay and Lord Selkirk, but he is really stirring to anger those around us who we have to learn to live with."

"Are the days numbered for us?" I quietly asked, afraid of the answer.

"I don't want to offer you any false hope Molly," George replied as he took his hand in mine, holding it close to his heart. "In our minds and hearts, we need to prepare for what may happen. All the signs point to a bloody confrontation."

"Will you be forced to fight?" I asked anxiously.

"Yes," he wearily replied, taking my head in his hands, gently placing it on his shoulder. "If I am called, I will rise up in defense of the company. I will not like it, I will not agree with it, but I will do it."

I lifted my head off his shoulder and looked deeply into his eyes. They were filled with so much wisdom, so much sadness. My eyes started to fill with tears, each tear a silent plea for him not to fight. "I love you George," I quietly said as I felt the water stream down my face.

"I love you too Molly," George softly replied, as he pressed his lips firmly to mine. There was passion mixed with fear in his embrace, a fear of what may happen, of plans that may never come to pass...

It was at dinner on the 19th that the bell sounded for us to retreat behind the walls of Fort Douglas. I quickly grabbed Calum's hand as we ran for protection. The little fires used to cook dinner were left behind as we hurriedly made our way to the safety of our fort. I could barely see what was coming in the distance, but I knew whatever it was, it was probably very large and dangerous.

My first concern was the family. Close beside me were Mama and Liam, although he was tugging at her, trying to pull free from her grasp. He wanted to turn around, he wanted to fight like the other men, but Mama would have none of it. I heard her scold him angrily, and for a moment it appeared she would hit him if he didn't do what she asked.

Papa and Willie were back near our tent, taking a final look with some of the other men. A last look was made to round up any left behind.

Inside the fort was chaos. Women were crying and little children were screaming. For those settlers new to this land, this was probably something they had yet to see. I have been in this land a long time, and the threat of danger still brings a chill to my heart. But unlike many of the women and children who wanted to hide, I wanted to climb a ladder to see what was going on.

Leaving the armoury was Governor Semple, followed by around twenty men. George was with them. My heart sank and a flood of tears rushed from my eyes. As the small party stormed past, George looked at me, but just as quickly he turned his gaze away.

At the main entry to the fort, Semple and his men stopped for a moment to gather themselves. By this time, Papa, Uncle Willie, and the other men were coming to the fort after checking one final time for any settlers left behind. I knew what was about to happen even before Semple pointed at Willie to join him. Papa turned to his brother, yet no amount of convincing could change his mind. Willie was handed a musket and a pouch. Among all the craziness of the moment, I witnessed the tender embrace of two brothers, my uncle and father. It looked as if Papa was saying goodbye, and this caused another flood of tears to well up inside and slide down my cheeks.

"Let's go men," I heard Semple order as they left the shelter of the fort for the openness of the plain. Papa walked towards us while the gates were shut.

"Where are they going?" I demanded.

"Metis are coming," Papa replied. "They go to meet them south near Seven Oaks."

"How many of them are there?"

"Molly, now is not the time to concern yourself with such things. Tend to your brothers, make sure they are safe."

"Damn it Papa," I screamed, unaware of how loud I actually was. "Uncle Willie and George are out there. I need to know they'll be safe. Don't tell me to find some place to hide with women and children. I'll have none of it."

I heard Papa scream my name as I tore away from him, desperate to find a vantage point somewhere in the fort to see what was going on. Almost everyone charged with defending the fort were now with Governor Semple, so it was an easy matter to find a ladder to get a distant view. Warily, I climbed up to the top of the wall to gain a vantage point. Although shortly after the dinner hour, there was still more than enough sunlight. Far off in the distance, there were clouds of dust and sand low to the horizon. This is where Semple was leading the men.

"Molly," Papa yelled up from down on the ground. "You don't want to be up there right now. I pray nothing happens, but you don't want to see it if something does."

"Papa, I can't just sit around and wait for George and Willie to come back. I'm not leaving here. Climb up that other ladder and stand beside me."

"Stubborn girl," Papa exclaimed, as he went to fetch another ladder to climb up and stand beside me.

Off in the distance, the clouds of dust and sand were clearing. Squinting my eyes, I could see many men, all of them on horseback, racing towards us. Semple, Willie, George, and the rest were on foot. What raced towards them looked large, maybe fifty to sixty men. The Metis were dressed in blue, with what looked to be red sashes tied around their necks. They were armed with any kind of weapon you could imagine: muskets, pistols, clubs, arrows... They were expert riders, men on horseback about to confront a smaller company of men on foot. If a fight broke out, our men would not stand a chance.

"This looks awful," Papa declared as he climbed up to stand beside me. "This might be revenge for the destruction of Fort Gibraltar."

"You don't know that," I desperately responded, wanting to believe the lies that were coming out of my mouth. "Semple is a reasonable man. He'll talk to them peacefully."

"Semple might be reasonable, but Cuthbert Grant is not. And if his men are looking for a fight, there's not too much can be done to stop them."

"What are they doing?" I cried, pointing off in the distance. Fighters started to turn in opposite directions. The stamping of hooves was getting louder as dirt and grass spat from underneath the Metis horses.

"I don't have a spy glass," Papa said anxiously, "But it looks like the Metis are breaking off into two groups. They mean to surround the men."

"Why did Willie have to go?" I pleaded. "You had the chance to keep him here, safe behind the walls!"

"Your uncle would not stay out of this fight, no matter what I said. The damn fool better not let his emotions get the best of him."

Semple ordered his soldiers to stand in a long line. They all stood their ground waiting for the next move made by the intruders. Two of the Metis dismounted from their horses and walked over to where Governor Semple proudly stood. "It seems like a couple of them mean to have a word with the Governor," Papa said. "Maybe it's just a show of force to scare us and nothing more. No one wants bloodshed if they don't have to."

"Molly," Mama harshly whispered from right below me. "Get down from that ladder and tend to your brothers. Leave it alone."

"I can't Mama..."

"Yes you can Molly. You've seen much in your short life already. Heaven knows too much."

Suddenly, a shot like a giant clap of thunder rang out in the distance. I screamed as I saw Governor Semple fall to his knees. I couldn't turn away now, no matter what Mama said. "What's happened?" I shrieked.

"Governor Semple has been shot," Papa coldly stated, as if knowing all along it would happen. "He's been shot in the leg."

I couldn't believe my eyes. From below, Mama had climbed up and was pulling me to come down, but I held tight to the ladder as my gaze held firm to the scene being played in front of me. There was a black cloud of smoke from where the governor was shot, hovering over him like death itself. I took my hand and placed it over my mouth, covering my screams.

One of the Metis dismounted, running quickly to where the governor stooped. From the way he was waving his hands, it looked as if he meant to protect the governor from harm, yet before this lone man could reach Semple, another shot was fired, directly at his chest. Although I was far back, I could plainly see how that second shot sent Semple staggering back, only to land with a dull thud to the ground as a lifeless corpse.

"Close your eyes Molly, for God's sake," Papa pleaded. "You can't see this."

I didn't listen to Papa's words. Once the governor fell, the Metis began to shoot at our men, over and over. I could barely see for the smoke. The cries and screams of men were mixed with the savage sounds of muskets and pistols. From behind me, women and children were running and shrieking, while off in the distance two of the men I love were fighting for their lives. I was surrounded. My chest started to tighten, my pulse racing faster and faster. I felt my body start to go limp as Papa desperately reached out for my hand. I didn't reach back. Mama tried to soften the blow as I fell unconscious to the ground...

...I awoke with a start. Mama was hovering over top of me, concern covering her face. She was wiping the sweat off my forehead with a wet rag. I tried to move, but I whimpered from a sharp pain creeping up my right leg. It took me a moment or two to realize what was happening.

"What?" I started.

"Quiet child, you'll be fine," Mama responded, although I could tell she was keeping something important from me. "I told you not to go up there. I told you not to look. You are the most stubborn Fraser I have ever known." Just then she started to burst out in uncontrollable crying.

"What's wrong?" I begged her to tell me. "Mama, you have to tell me what happened. Is George alright? Is Willie alright? You have to tell me!!!"

Papa, close by, knelt down beside Mama when he saw I had awoken. "Oh Molly," he cried, "I thought for a minute we might lose you. Thankfully your brother was there to help soften the blow as the ground came up to meet you." He carefully pulled me close to him. When I did not cry out in pain, he started to squeeze me even harder.

"Papa," I pushed him away so I could look directly into his eyes. "You have to tell me what's happened. Please!"

"Molly, George I think is going to be alright. The Metis were brutal, and many of our men are still out there, either dead or dying. Willie made it back too, but not before a bullet pierced him in the back."

"Where are they?" I demanded. "I can't sit here when I'm needed." Pushing against both my parents, I pulled myself up to my feet only to stumble from the pain coursing up my right leg. I looked down to see my ankle swollen and shaded an awful black and blue. "I can deal with this," I said as I bit my lip to help with the pain. "We've got to go see Uncle Willie and George."

My parents did not stop me. Placing my arm around Papa's shoulder, he led me to the governor's quarters, now turned into a shelter for the wounded. I entered the shelter, and what I saw there almost made me pass out again. Of the twenty men that went to defend our fort, only three had returned. There was George with a sad looking bandage around his right leg, John Pritchard, a Bayman who did not appear to be injured in the slightest, and Uncle Willie, who but for his faint breathing almost looked like a corpse.

"Molly," George exclaimed upon seeing me, "I thought I might never look upon you again."

"Oh George," I cried as I pulled away from Papa and limped over to where he sat. "Oh George, I thought I may have lost you for sure." I bent down on one leg and fell into his arms. My pulse started racing when I saw the dark shade of red on the bandage wrapped around his leg.

"If not for Willie, I would be lying with the rest of the dead out on the plains...Ahhh, the pain is almost more than I can bear. I may need to have some whiskey to help dull this feeling."

"Have you been shot?" I asked hurriedly.

"A blow to the leg Molly", George replied, trying to talk through what must be sure torture. "The flesh has been pierced, and I don't know how bad it is. There's no doctor to help. The only one of us who had some experience now lies dead upon the field."

"You will get better. I will make sure no harm comes to you."

"Help me lie down Molly. I may pass out if I sit up too much longer."

"What happened out there George?" I quietly asked as Papa and I helped him down. He groaned as we carefully placed him on a soiled mat on the ground.

"It was all hell and some," John Pritchard interrupted. "Those bastard Metis were here for blood, and by God they got their share. So many men felled for no damn reason at all- Sinclair, Bruin, McKay, Heden, Holte, Captain Rodgers- once I saw it was going to be a slaughter, I got the hell away as fast as I could."

I looked at George lying on the ground. Although awake, his eyes were closed and his jaw clenched as he tried to deal with the pain of a bullet in his leg. "George, is there anything we can get for you to help ease the pain."

"I just need to rest. Tend to your uncle. He half dragged me here, but just before the gates of the fort, he got shot. If not for the quick action of your father who pulled us both in, we would still be out there at the mercy of the Metis."

I quickly glanced at Papa who wasn't even listening. His thoughts were clearly wrapped up in his brother's condition. Willie was losing a lot of blood, there was a pool of it underneath the cot where he lay, and there was nothing anyone of us could do to help him.

"George?" Papa asked. "Can you talk about it son? Do those Metis warriors out there plan to attack and take us over?"

"I don't know what their plan is. I don't think they knew themselves until it was too late. It was a Metis called Boucher who started it all, yelling at the governor 'What do you want? What do you want?' The governor tried to respond, but before he could utter a word, he was shot in the leg. That was all it took for all of the Metis to start firing. The governor fell with another bullet to the chest, and soon after everyone else in our party were shot except for the three of us who made it back. It was hopeless. I pulled at Willie and dragged him with me towards the fort. Willie might be hot headed, but even he knows when the odds are stacked against him!"

"It was not even twenty paces when I felt a stab of pain creeping up from my right leg. I knew I was shot, but I willed myself to keep moving. But the pain was too much, and I collapsed. It was Willie Fraser who pulled me from the ground and practically carried me the rest of the distance. Thank God the Metis did not give chase, perhaps afraid of cannon fire if they got too close. It was when we were within a stone's throw from the entrance he placed me on the ground. A shot rang out, hitting him in the back."

"And that's when Papa ran out to save you both?"

"If not for your father, I don't know what might have happened. Your uncle saved my life!"

"Oh Uncle William," I lamented. "Such bravery."

"Is my niece Molly talking?" Uncle Willie quietly asked from his bed, as if roused from a dream. "Come here and give us a kiss will you. You've turned into a fine young lady now haven't you?"

I turned my attention from George to my uncle. Holding on to both Papa and Mama, the three of us quietly turned to where he lay. His breathing was laboured, and I noticed the sheet on which he lay turn red from the blood oozing from his back. The foul stench coming from him almost made me vomit. As I crept close to press my lips to his cheek, I knew he had little time left.

"Oh uncle," I cried. "When you get better, I'll make sure to kick your behind nice and hard. There was no need for you to fight today. Sometimes a rest from the fighting is not a bad thing."

A little smirk formed on his lips as he softly opened his eyes to tenderly look at me. "Sweet Molly, my little Highland lass, someone had to make sure your good man didn't get into too much trouble. It's not an easy thing, getting shot. Someone had to help him back away from all that craziness."

"You're a bloody hero Willie," Papa said to him. "But those men out there, the odds against you..."

"Now, now, John," Willie responded. "I've been itching for this a long time. Those Metis were not going to harm any of you, and by God they haven't."

Mama came close and took Willie's hand in her own. She pulled his hand up to her face and kissed it tenderly. "We love you, old fool."

"I know," Willie said as he smiled, closed his eyes, and gave up his life.

Mama placed his hand gently down on the bed. I brought myself up to my feet and stood between my parents. Mama started to cry uncontrollably, and all my father could do was stare sadly at the ground. There my uncle peacefully laid, the end result of great Lord Selkirk's admirable plan to turn the Canadian West into a new Scottish Highland. This plan has been mired with suffering and death in its wake, and now it has taken one of the greatest men I have ever known.

I am beyond tears, beyond anger. All I know is the time has come to finally leave, if those who did this to us will let us go. I will be the first one to volunteer, to say goodbye to where the two rivers fork. Madness was this scheme from the very beginning, and whether because of ignorance or sheer stubbornness, we saw it through, only to have it end tragically. I left everyone, stumbling out of the shelter to a dark prairie sky littered with stars. In the distance, the sounds of gunfire and screams could be heard clearly, but my eye, my mind, was fixed on the stars. Uncle Willie, you might be up there, up in the stars. Perhaps you're about to meet your maker. Make sure you get your drink, you'll need your drink, and then take a good look at God and give him a great big kick in the ass from me.

Chapter 35

It was a massacre. Everything decent in people, everything that tied men to each other, was absent in the actions of those representing the North West Company. The scene out on the plains was one of true horror. Heads scalped, hearts torn out... so many actions of men who are not men, savage-like in deed, leaving bodies for the wolves and the blistering sun.

Uncle Willie is dead. There is no return for where he now is. I could sooth his anger, bring him back from the rage that was always there, bubbling just under the surface. I could always bring him back. I could always bring him back...

Some events cannot undo the damage they inflict on your heart, on your being. Calum might be young enough to forget, he might blot these days from his young memory, but the anger has made its way to Liam. Too young to yet feel defeated, the anger is just starting, learning how to take shape. How often in the future will I now have to bring him back?

The Metis have left, their blood lust and revenge satisfied for the destruction of Fort Gibraltar. There is nothing left in their absence but confusion, tears, hysteria, death: death of our dream for a new life, for a chance to build a new croft, for me to start a new family in this land as Mrs. George Cooper. If I am granted the chance to marry this man, it will be far away from here.

Everyone has helped to finally lay to rest the twenty dead men left by the savage North West Company. A bargain has been struck by Cuthbert Grant and those of us still alive: take leave of this place, and no more death will come. Soon we will vacate these lands, and the settlement dreams of Lord Selkirk will die with it.

A grave for William Fraser was hastily dug near the shadow of Fort Douglas. A crude looking cross of two simple sticks wrapped together with cloth is the only marker to remind this earth of the man who has been taken from it. Papa dug, and Mama, but all I could do was watch, watch and remember a man who was too angry to accept his fate, willing to lay down his life to save the people he loved the most.

"May God have mercy on his soul," Papa muttered to himself as he stood over his brother's grave. "He was brave until the end, and he deserved a better fate than to be taken from us so young. It looks like he will have to stay here while we move on for good."

"His body will remain," I softly responded, "But his spirit and fight will live on in us."

"Aye," Papa muttered in reply. "The family comes first. Maybe he was without wife and child, but even Willie knew how important the bond of blood is."

"Where are we going?" I asked as I tried to rub the pain spreading from my temples.

"Far the hell away from here."

On June 22nd we took our leave of Red River. Perhaps we should have done this much earlier. We boarded canoes that set off east towards the British colony of Upper Canada with only a few supplies and the clothes on our backs.

George is faring well with his injured leg. His wound was not as bad as I had first feared. He received only a glancing wound from a musket ball, and the bandage now on his leg is holding well. I see the lines of pain on his face as he pushes the oar through the water, but not a word of discomfort or complaint ever passes from his lips.

I seem to make a habit of turning to look at what I am leaving behind. Hopefully, I will have a future where I am not continually looking behind me to see what has been lost. I want a future where I can look forward, eager to see what the future might have in store: a future with a husband, children, a home, grandparents, and the memory of my courageous uncle. I turn around expecting sadness to overwhelm my heart, but I do not feel sadness. No, I feel relief. We were always unwelcome, yet we were too stubborn, too set in our ways, to see that the dream of a new croft in this land was impossible.

I turn around to the flowing river ahead, taking us away. I smile at the prospect of what the future might hold, and that a new Scotland can still be made in this great land across the ocean. I take up my oar and start to row in rhythm with the others. If we are finally going to begin to live here properly, we better get on with it...

The Canadian Highland Ken Busato

