Wilderness Giant Edition 4
Page 27
Presently McLoughlin nodded at the beefy pair, who hauled Hughes to his feet and brought him along as the chief factor came to the fire. McLoughlin squatted, thunder eminent on his brow. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am for all that has happened,” he said. “He greatly exceeded his authority.”
“Who did?” Shakespeare asked. “Hughes or Harkness or whatever his real name is?”
“It’s Harkness, all right. Gregory Harkness,” McLoughlin revealed. “For the last several years he was stationed at Fort Hall, working under Andrew Smythe-Barnes. “ At their looks of astonishment, he smiled grimly. “Thought that would get your interest. It seems Smythe-Barnes took his orders far too literally.”
“What orders?” Nate asked.
“It’s no secret that Hudson’s Bay wants to discourage American settlement and competition in this region. The Company had notified all administrators to that effect. I told them that I’d be damned if I was going to treat anyone unfairly or unjustly, Americans or no. They don’t like my attitude, but I’m the best chief factor they’ve ever had, and they’re not about to take me to task for sticking to my principles.” McLoughlin sighed. “Smythe-Barnes didn’t have any principles. And he went too far in his efforts to carry out HBC policy. The Company didn’t tell him to cheat Americans outright, or to drive them from their homes once they had settled.” He glanced at Hughes. “Or to send men to St. Louis for the express purpose of hiring on with American parties bound for the Oregon Country, and then to have these men do what they could to keep the Americans from getting there.”
Nate had a flash of insight. “You were the one who kept trying to run off our horses at night,” he addressed Harkness. “What else are you guilty of?”
In a perfect English accent, Harkness replied, “I’ve said all I’m going to. Mr. McLoughlin tells me that he intends to file a formal complaint against me with the HBC office in London, so I’m not saying another word until I’ve talked to my solicitor.”
“Your what?” Nate asked.
“His lawyer,” Shakespeare explained.
McLoughlin went on. “I suspect Smythe-Barnes was out to line his own pockets and used HBC policy as an excuse to commit his crimes. They will be as outraged as I am by his actions. I wouldn’t be surprised if they offer you an official apology.”
Shakespeare gazed at the row of earthen mounds over by the river. He thought of all those they had lost, of all the hardships they had faced, and of the fight with the HBC men that had resulted in Smythe-Barnes’s death. “I reckon an apology is better than nothing. It’s too bad, though, that when governments squabble, ordinary people like us have to suffer.”
“There’s one more thing,” McLoughlin said, facing Cyrus Porter. “Harkness tells me that Smythe-Barnes, through contacts in your government, learned they were concerned about rumors of British forts being built along the frontier in preparation for war. Washington wanted someone to act as a spy, to come into the territory and either verify or refute the rumors.” He stuck a finger at Porter. “You were the spy they picked.”
“What nonsense!” Porter declared. “The only reason I came was to find my missing daughter.”
“Smythe-Barnes was of the opinion you used her only as an excuse. He told Harkness that you had done similar work for Washington before.”
“I flatly deny it,” Porter said. “Obviously it was another story that man concocted to excuse his dastardly acts.”
“Perhaps,” McLoughlin said, unconvinced. Nate said nothing. All the pieces to the puzzle fit, and they only added to his contempt of Porter. He wanted nothing whatsoever to do with the man ever again. And he could see that he wasn’t the only one.
That evening a decision was made. John McLoughlin would return to Fort Vancouver instead of going to the Chinook village. Hughes would be taken back under arrest. As for the expedition members, McLoughlin offered to see them safely as far as Astoria.
Cyrus Porter announced to one and all that he intended to take the first ship that came along back to the States. He said he would pay the fare of anyone else who wanted to go, but no one took him up on it. When he made the statement, he looked pointedly at his daughter, who ignored him.
Later, Hetty stopped weeping long enough to tell everyone that she was going to stay in the Oregon Country and make a new life for herself. Her father objected, but she refused to even speak to him.
Five days later, Nate King, Winona, Zach and Evelyn were on a sandy dune, a stiff sea breeze fanning their faces and hair. Nate inhaled the tangy air and stared out over the awe-inspiring vastness of the Pacific Ocean. He had forgotten how immense an ocean could be, and he grinned at the childhood memories it stirred, of carefree summer days when his father took the family to the beach at Atlantic City.
Zach plucked at Nate’s sleeve. “Pa, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask.”
“Ask away.”
“Was it worth it? All we went through to get here, I mean?”
Nate looked down at his son’s earnest expression, then at the laughing pair who played in the rolling surf. Shakespeare had an arm around Blue Water Woman, and they were kicking at the waves, their naked feet splashing water right and left. Nate had never seen his mentor look so young, so happy, so very alive. “Yes, son,” he said. “I think it was.”
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