The Fur Trader's Daughter: Rendezvous (Destiny's Daughters Book 3)

by Colleen French

  "No, you don't need me; you don't need anyone do you? Well, I've got news for you; I need someone, someone that needs me." He eased the grip he held on her arm but refused to let her go.

  "You're hurting me," she whispered.

  "I don't care," he told her viciously. "You think this has all been a game, don't you? A way to amuse yourself on cold nights?" He glowered at her. "You never cared about me. You've never cared about anyone but yourself."

  "It's not true!" She dropped her knapsack on the floor and brushed at her eyes with the back of her hand. She wouldn't let him see her cry.

  "I loved you, Gabrielle. I expected better of you than this. I trusted you. I trusted you to understand why I couldn't have what I wanted more in life than anything." Slowly he released her arm. "I wanted you, but if you can't come with me, I can't have you. My life is in Richmond once I find that gold. My life is with my daughter and my responsibilities."

  She yanked back her arm as if she'd been burned. "Get out of here! Get out of my house! I hate you! I hated you the first day I saw you." She jerked her knapsack off the floor and threw it onto the bed. "You came here, and you took advantage of me. I was lonely, and you knew it!" she accused.

  He laughed, his voice frighteningly steady. "Took advantage of you? You came willingly." He shook his head in disbelief. "You asked me to make love to you. You told me you loved me."

  "And what am I supposed to know about love?"

  "Oh, come on, Gabrielle. I don't want to hear your sad story about how your mother was a whore and your father was a drunk. We've all had our problems in life, haven't we? It's no excuse for hurting someone." He lowered his voice an octave. "It's no excuse for hurting me."

  At a loss for what to say, she spun around, presenting her back to him. She couldn't stand the pain so clear in his voice. She couldn't stand the ache in her own chest. Tears slipped down her windburned cheeks as she stood in silence. The truth was, she still loved him. She loved him more than she'd ever loved anyone, and now he was leaving.

  "Does it have to be like this, Gabrielle? Do I have to leave with you hating me?" Alex sighed heavily. "You knew I was leaving. I told you I couldn't stay. You gave me the map. Why would you give it to me if you didn't want me to use it?"

  "You're a grown man." Her voice cracked, and she was silent for a moment. "You made your own choice."

  He came up behind her, grasping her shoulders. "Don't you see? I have no choice. My daughter has to be more important than my personal life. Whether I'm happy or not makes no difference. Alexis is what matters."

  Gabrielle held her body stiff, refusing to turn around and face him. Finally he let her go and walked out the door, closing it quietly behind him.

  It was well after sunset when Alex stepped inside the cabin to find it dark, cold and quiet. He lifted his lantern to cast shadows on the walls. "Gabrielle," he called softly. He heard movement on the bed and turned to shed light on it.

  There was Gabrielle, asleep, still clothed and wrapped in a wool blanket. He sighed, walking to the fireplace to set the lantern on the mantel. She'd nearly let the fire go out, and it was freezing inside. Methodically he gathered kindling from the wood box and soon had a roaring blaze in the stone fireplace.

  Silently he came across the room to sit on the corner of the bed beside her sleeping form. "Oh, Gabrielle," he whispered, brushing a lock of hair off her cheek. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I should never have come here. Or at least I should have had the willpower to resist you." He listened for a moment to her light, easy breathing. She looked so peaceful, asleep like this, with all of the heartaches wiped from her face.

  "But how could I resist? You came to me with open arms, with an open heart. You gave me your love and your honesty without any demands." He studied her delicate oval face, trying to recall the first moment he realized he loved her.

  Gabrielle sighed in her sleep and turned on her side, oblivious to Alex's presence.

  Alex smiled sadly in the semi-darkness. "I've half a mind to tie you to that sled and take you with me," he told her. "Because without you, I'll never be the man I could have been. I'll never be the man I was." He leaned over cautiously to brush his lips against hers, just once more. "I love you," he whispered. "I hope someday you'll realize just how much."

  When Gabrielle woke in the morning, the room was empty. The fire was blazing in the fireplace, the cookstove was lit, a pot of coffee simmering on it, but Alex was gone.

  "Alex!" she shouted leaping from the bed. "Alex?" She raced to the door, stepping out into the snow in her stocking feet. "Alex?"

  Her dogs came running at the sound of her voice and pushed their muzzles against her, begging to be petted. It was a clear day, so cold that she could feel her own breath freezing as she released it. The cleared yard stood empty, except for the dogs and the sled tracks that ran north.

  "Alex," she whispered once more. The cold brought her out of her stupor and forced her back inside the cabin. "You son-of-a-bitch," she murmured. "You didn't even say good-bye!"

  Pouring herself a cup of strong coffee, she pulled a chair up to the fireplace and peeled off her wet socks. "You could have said good-bye!" She sat down and propped her feet on a wooden crate to warm them. She couldn't believe he was gone. He'd left her life as suddenly as he'd entered it.

  She buried her face in her hands as the tears slipped down her cheeks. "Oh, Alex. Why did it have to be like this. I love you," she sobbed. "I still love you."

  Long after her tears were spent, Gabrielle sat there, staring at the flames of the fire, wishing for what might have been. Finally, she roused herself. I can't stay here all day, she thought. I'll go crazy!

  "I'll go see Jack and Mya, that's what I'll do," she said aloud. "You think that's good idea, Papa?"

  God, she thought. That's the first time I've talked to you like that since . . . since Alex came. She groaned, getting up to pack her bag. She decided she'd walk instead of taking the sled. With her new snowshoes, she could make it in a few hours.

  "I'm so glad to see you, Jack!" Gabrielle threw her arms around her old friend, startling him.

  "Is something wrong, Gabe?" He stepped back to let her enter their tiny home. Built more like a hut than a cabin, with a dome roof and tree boughs, the place was only half the size of Gabrielle's. But the ancient woodstove was burning, and a warmth and friendliness reached out to envelope her.

  "Wrong? No, nothing's wrong." She left her snowshoes near the door and moved to the stove with her hands outstretched. "Where's Mya?"

  "Her mother's." Jack eyed Gabrielle suspiciously. "You sure nothing's wrong?"

  "We found the map," she said starkly.

  Jack said nothing.

  "Doesn't that surprise you?" She turned to face him, beginning to unbutton her parka.

  "It does not." The Indian's face was void of emotion. "I told you the river would run with gold one day. You deserve it."

  Gabrielle shook her head. "But you don't understand. I didn't want the map. I—" Her voice caught in her throat. "I gave the map to Alex and now—" She couldn't go on.

  Jack helped her out of her camp parka. "And now?"

  "Alex is gone," she blurted. "He's gone to find the gold. He left me."

  Jack reached in the pocket of his shirt and pulled out a cigar. "I didn't know he was going to stay."

  "Whose side are you on?" she shouted fiercely.

  He gave no reaction except to lift a sooty eyebrow.

  She ran a hand through her curly hair. "Oh, Jack. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you. It's just that . . ." She cast down her eyes, ashamed of her behavior.

  "That you love the white man?"

  She looked up at him. "Yes," she answered tiredly. "I love him."

  "Then why didn't you go?" Jack pulled a small, crude bench closer to the stove and sat down, patting the spot beside him.

  Gabrielle sat. "What do you mean? You know why. I hate the gold! I hate it!"

  "You hate the gold more than you love the man?"<
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  "It's not that simple, Jack. It's the principle of the thing."

  He shrugged, opening the door of the stove to light his cigar. "I don't understand this principle, Gabe. I only understand that if you love him, you do what you have to. If you don't . . ." He shrugged again.

  She twisted her mouth. "Now you sound like Alex. You know I can't go with him. If he finds the gold, he's going back to his Virginia."

  "You are still afraid of Taylor?"

  "Yes, I'm afraid of him!" She watched the flames of the fire through the door in the stove he'd left open.

  "Want me to kill him?"

  Gabrielle sighed, turning to look at Jack. "You really would, wouldn't you?" She studied his dark eyes.

  He nodded, inhaling on the cigar that dangled from his mouth. "If it will make you happy."

  "A part of me wants him dead, but a part of me . . ." She shook her head. "I just keep thinking he'll get his own one day." She folded her hands in her lap. "I just don't know what to do, Jack. About Alex, I mean. I'm afraid I'm never going to love anyone as much as I love him."

  "Then go after him."

  She looked at him wide-eyed. "I can't!"

  "You can do what you want, Gabe."

  She gave a laugh. "And what if we find the gold? Wouldn't I look silly at one of those fancy balls, dressed like a tart? I'd look so much like Alice LeBeau that you wouldn't be able to tell us apart!"

  Jack grinned. "I knew your mother. You are nothing like her."

  Gabrielle stared in indecision. "You'd want me to go, to leave you and Mary and Mya? Since when did you start liking Alex. I thought you hated him."

  "I did not hate him. I was afraid for you. But now . . ." He pulled the cigar from his mouth. "After seeing you two together, I know your life can never be the same."

  "You'd risk your life to be with him if you were me?"

  Jack rolled his cigar in his thick fingers. "Life is a risk. Would you risk being unhappy forever to be safe and warm in your cabin?"

  "What if Taylor comes after me?"

  "Then you will kill him. But maybe he will not come after you. Maybe he is dead; maybe he has found better fishing ground. Maybe, maybe, maybe. . . . I don't know. I don't have the sight."

  "You're not much help," Gabrielle muttered.

  "All I can tell you is to follow your heart. It is what Rouge would have said."

  She swallowed against the rising lump in her throat. Jack was right and she knew it. It was what Papa would have said. Even though he was against marriage, he would have wanted her to be happy. And he would have liked Alex. Marriage? she thought, laughing to herself. Who'd ever said anything about marriage? Alex had made no proposal of marriage. But it doesn't matter, she told herself with sudden resolution. Jack is right. Life is full of risks.

  Gabrielle pushed herself up off the bench. "I'm going. I've got to talk to him."

  Jack nodded, returning the cigar to his mouth. "You know where he's headed? You want me to go?"

  She reached for her parka, smiling. "I know where he is. If I leave in the morning and mush hard, I'll catch him by nightfall."

  "You want me to take you back on my sled?" Jack stood up.

  "Nah, you stay here where it's warm. With these new snowshoes, I'll fly over the hard-pack." Stuffing her fists into her parka, her fingers flew over the buttons. "Thank you, Jack," she told him, picking up her snowshoes. On impulse she leaned forward and brushed her lips against his cheek. "You're a good friend."

  Jack lifted his hand to touch the place on his cheek where she'd kissed him. He smiled, raising a hand to say good-bye, and closed the door behind her.

  Gabrielle set out for home, moving at a grueling pace. It didn't matter that the sun was already setting; she knew her way between Jack's village and her own place like she knew her way around her cabin in the dark. The forest that surrounded the Tanana was familiar to her and its winter sounds comforting. She wasn't afraid of the crash of falling limbs or the haunting call of the great horned owl. All she could think of as she crossed the forest was Alex and being in his arms again.

  When Gabrielle entered the clearing near her cabin, it was well after dark. She called to her dogs, and they came racing from behind the trees, their paws crunching in the snow. It was a black, moonless night, and she could barely make out their forms as they came bounding toward her.

  "Hey! What's the matter with you?" She reached out to them, scratching ears and patting backs. The dogs howled, pacing nervously in front of her, blocking her path.

  Gabrielle pushed her way through the pack, laughing as they tripped her and nipped at her heels. "I don't know what's gotten into you," she told them as she reached the door. "You must need to get out!" She pushed Anthony aside, and he growled, deep in his throat.

  Puzzled, Gabrielle pushed open the cabin door. As she stepped through, a hand shot out of the darkness, descending upon her. She screamed, trying to wrench free, and a hand clasped over her mouth. She kicked and flailed her arms as the door slammed shut behind her, locking out her growling, barking dogs.

  Suddenly the room filled with light. The man who held her was Simone Parsons, the man who had almost killed Alex. "You son-of-a—"

  Parsons slapped Gabrielle hard across the face, silencing her words. "Shut up, you little bitch," he whined. "Before I shut you up." He pinned her arms behind her.

  "So, at last we meet again," a harsh voice rasped.

  Parsons twisted her hands viciously, forcing her to turn around. "Taylor . . ." Gabrielle breathed.

  Chapter Fourteen

  "Surprised to see me, Miss LeBeau?" Lucas Taylor rested his arm on the mantel. "I told you back in that hotel in Seattle that you'd not heard the last of me. You know Parsons, of course, and this is Lawrence and Gaddy . . . friends of mine."

  She eyed the rough-looking henchmen, calculating her chances of getting out of the cabin alive. "What are you doing in here?" she demanded through clenched teeth. She strained against her captor, trying to jerk her hands free.

  "What do you think?" Taylor smirked. "Let her go, Parsons. That is if she promises to be a good girl. . . ." He looked up at her, waiting for a response.

  Gabrielle nodded her head in agreement, but the instant Parsons released her, she spun around bringing her knee up sharply to his groin. He groaned, doubling over, and she clasped her hands together, hitting him over the head. She had almost made her way over his prone body when one of Taylor's other companions caught her by the arm and swung her around.

  "Oh, no you don't, you little whore." The blond, pigtailed man, Lawrence, jerked her hard against him, pulling her back over Simone's body and away from the cabin door.

  "Call me a whore, you son-of-a-bitch!" Gabrielle swung her right fist, catching the man square in the jaw.

  Lawrence laughed, rubbing his jaw, then swung easily, catching Gabrielle in the side of the face. She went down under his blow, crying out against her will. Lawrence yanked her back on her feet by the collar of her parka and drew back his hand to hit her again as Taylor spoke up.

  "That's enough, Lawrence," he said dryly. He hadn't moved from the spot near the fireplace; his arm still rested on the mantel. "Maybe you can have her later."

  Lawrence lowered his fist slowly, reluctantly. He grinned, his dark eyes glittering with sadistic pleasure. "Just tryin' to teach her a lesson, boss. Put 'er in 'er place."

  Gabrielle panted, trying to catch her breath. The wind had been knocked out of her when Lawrence hit her, and her head was reeling. "What do you want with me?" She raised her hand to touch her injured cheek. The bruised flesh was already tender.

  "Come, come, you know what I want." Taylor stroked his clean-shaven chin. Some might have thought he was handsome with his pitch-black eyes and well-defined jaw, but all Gabrielle could see was the aquiline nose and the twist of his mouth as he spoke. He was the man of her ghoulish nightmares.

  She lifted an eyebrow in defiance. "I assure you, I don't. I have nothing you could possibly want."

>   He lunged forward. "You have the map!"

  Gabrielle refused to flinch, though his face was suddenly only inches from hers. "I told you. There is no map; there never was."

  "Your father—"

  "My father," she interrupted, "was a drunk and a liar, and you, sir, are a fool to have believed him!"

  Taylor lifted a thick forefinger, pressing it into her parka. "You had better learn some respect, Miss LeBeau, for myself as well as for your deceased father."

  His eyes were suddenly devoid of any humanity, and an uneasiness swelled in Gabrielle's chest. The stark realization came to her that she would likely die at this man's hands, and the thought turned her fear to anger. What right did one man have to ruin so many lives? Though there had been a time in her life, right after her father was killed, that she wished she was dead, her desire to live was overwhelming. She wanted Alex and a life with him, and she'd not give it up so easily.

  Gabrielle lowered her gaze to the floor, deciding to be more cautious. "So what are we going to do about this, Taylor? You say there's a map. I say there isn't."

  He waved Lawrence away, grabbing her arm with one hand. His fingers sank through the thick material of her parka, biting her flesh. "Guess we'll have to look for it ourselves."

  "No!" Gabrielle shouted. She could imagine what they would do to her cabin, her supplies, looking for it. "If I had the map, don't you think I'd have found the gold by now?" she reasoned. "Do you see any gold? Do you even see any mining equipment?"

  Taylor released her arm, letting her stand on her own. "Maybe not. Your father told me you didn't take to the gold like some. But he said you'd come around, and when you did, you'd have the map."

  Gabrielle sighed heavily, letting her eyes drift shut for a moment. Alex, her mind screamed. Jack, anyone . . . please help me. She knew she couldn't tell them where the map really was. They'd track Alex down and kill him in cold blood. She opened her eyes. "So go ahead and look for the map. I'm telling you, it's not here, but you're welcome to look."

  Taylor grinned. "We intend to." With a nod of his head, Parsons and the other two men pulled long hunting knives from their belts and began ripping through the cabin. They emptied her crates of supplies on the floor, cutting open the cloth bags of salt, sugar and flour. They strewed her clothes across the room, emptying her crates of personal belongings. They found her father's last bottle of whiskey and drank it, laughing as they ripped through a lifetime of possessions.