Captured by Love (Michigan Brides #3)(30)

He knew he needed to return to the plowing. The labor to loosen the hard soil had been backbreaking, even with his well-conditioned muscles. He needed to accomplish an overwhelming amount of work if he hoped to leave in three weeks.

But he couldn’t resist the draw to take a look at the new fort being built on the highest point of the island. Captain Bullock, the previous commander of the fort, had started the project several weeks ago. But now that Colonel McDouall had arrived, they were apparently pouring their efforts into completing the job.

With an attack from the Americans imminent, Pierre was sure the colonel didn’t want the Americans to retake the island with the same tactics the British had used only two years earlier. The British soldiers loved to brag about how they’d arrived on the north side of the island in the early hours of morning under cover of darkness. They’d hauled their two six-pound cannons through the tangled brush and up the steep hills, until they finally reached the top of the island, the hill that towered a half mile above Fort Michilimackinac.

The fort had originally been built to protect the island from a southern attack. But the British had discovered the weakness of the northern side of the fort and had taken advantage of it. With the two cannons pointed down at the fort and with a force of six hundred men, including several hundred Indian warriors, the Americans had been forced to raise the white flag. Everyone had known that any resistance would have incited an Indian massacre.

Fortunately the British had allowed the American troops to retreat unharmed to Detroit. And they’d also given the American citizens who resided on the island one month to either leave or swear allegiance to the British by signing the Oath.

And Jean had left.

Pierre shook his head again, as he did every time he thought about Jean deserting their maman. What had his brother been thinking? Why hadn’t he hired someone to do the work? He certainly hadn’t expected Maman and Angelique to try to shoulder everything, had he?

“Stay with your mother. She needs her son more than her son needs fur.”

Red Fox’s caution echoed in Pierre’s mind. He wanted to ignore the warning the words sent off, and the guilt. What if he couldn’t find hired help either? He doubted he’d stay. How could he?

How then could he judge Jean when he was contemplating leaving Maman too?

Pierre stopped at the base of the hill and peered up the sloping incline to the top, where the blockhouse was slowly taking shape, along with a surrounding picket fence.

Fort George. That was what the British called it, naming it after their king. At least that was what he’d called it in his letter. Pierre had warned the Americans about the new fort and urged them to attack soon, before it was completed and before the Indian reinforcements arrived.

Now he could only pray the letter reached the Americans in time.

Pierre watched several workers trudge up the incline carrying stones. Only yesterday, Colonel McDouall had issued the order that every islander, including civilians, contribute three days of labor to the construction effort.

He’d heard the grumbling, but the colonel had warned that anyone who didn’t cooperate would get to spend three days in the Black Hole instead.

Pierre had assured the colonel that he’d take the evening shift and work as often as he could over the next three weeks. Yet privately he’d been more than a little irritated about the new order. He didn’t have the time to spare, and he didn’t want to help the British fortify their position.

At this point he was hoping the Americans would be able to take the island back. It would certainly make his life easier if Jean returned to the farm soon. Then he could be on his way again.

With a sigh he turned to go, only to find himself facing another group of civilians carrying the large stones that would be used to construct the bombproof storage building in the new fort. The outline of one young woman caught his attention.

“Angelique?”

She didn’t stop.

He followed after her. The overlong, dull gray skirt and formless bodice belonged to only one woman on the island.

“Angelique, wait.” He rushed to her side.

She was breathing hard under the heavy weight of the stone she carried. Her face was streaked with dirt and sweat. Her hands were red and chafed.

A burst of fury barreled into him. He reached for the stone and tried to wrest it from her grip as she trudged along. “What are you doing? Give me the rock.”

She glanced up at him with weary eyes.

“Let me carry it for you.”

She hesitated only a moment longer, then stopped and relinquished the stone.

He hefted it into his arms. It wasn’t heavy for him. In fact, he could have carried several. “Why are you carrying stones?”

She wiped her sleeve across her forehead before answering him. “Ebenezer has delegated his three days of work at the new fort to me.”

“That lazy old leech,” Pierre muttered. He wasn’t surprised Ebenezer had gotten out of his work and put the burden on Angelique. The man was a pompous crook.

“I suppose you have to work your own three days after you’re done with his?”

She nodded, staring at the hill that stretched before them.

He had the sudden urge to sweep her off her feet and take her someplace where she could rest. “It’s a good thing Ebenezer isn’t here or I’d teach him a lesson or two with my fist.”