Columbine by Miranda Jarrett

Author:Miranda Jarrett [Jarrett, Miranda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, General, Romance
ISBN: 9780373287444
Google: 0hmBJv6tyx0C
Amazon: 0373287445
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 1992-09-01T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

l’eeling at the Frenchman’s cot, Dianna noticed the change at once. She had never seen anyone die before, but there was no mistaking the man’s condition now. He’d seemed to shrink into himself somehow, his breathing slow and labored, and beneath the white bandage his skin was waxy and oddly translucent. Already he looked more like a corpse than a man.

“He’ll not see another dawn, lass,” said Hester as she rested her hand on Dianna’s shoulder.

“Ye’ve done all ye can for him, but it be th’ Lord decides these things, not us.”

“How can he die?” said Dianna unevenly.

“I

never even learned his name.”

From the doorway, Kit heard the catch in her voice, and he yearned to comfort her. He felt no jealousy for the Frenchman now, only a terrible sense of waste. He’d seen it so often, too often, Kit thought wearily, one more man’s life cut short before its time.

But at the sound of her voice, the Frenchman moaned and strained upward toward her, and with obvious effort his eyes half opened.

“Ah, Solange, you are here.”

“Dormez, mon ami,” said Dianna as she touched her hand to the dying man’s cheek, his skin hot and brittle.

“Tell Fran9is I saw him, Solange,” he rasped in French.

“He tried to hide, the swine, but I marked his face, and I tell you now!”

Dianna drew closer, aware of the significance of the man’s words, and aware, too, that his time was short.

“Ou est Frangis, mon ami?” Where was he?

“He waited in the trees … but I saw him. I saw Robillard, damn him, the coward!”

At Robillard’s name, Kit leaped forward.

“What did he say, Dianna?” he demanded urgently.

“God in Heaven, if Robillard’s filthy hand is in this—” Dianna’s eyes never left the Frenchman’s wasted face.

“He said he saw Robillard hiding in the tree’s when the others attacked him.”

Kit leaned over her shoulder.

“Ask him who the others were!”

But as Kit spoke the Frenchman slipped back, and Dianna watched the last bit of life drain from his face.

“Au revoir, mon ami pauvre,” she said as Hester closed the man’s eyes for the final time.

“Au revoir! “

They buried the Frenchman the next morning; with the summer’s heat, there was no reason to delay.

Dianna and Kit were his only mourners. Some, like Hester, stayed away because the man had been French and a Papist, but most were simply too busy leaving Plumstead to bother with a stranger’s burial.

At dawn Kit had told the families in his keeping that they could return to theft homes, that as much as he could guess, the danger was past for now. Still, he sent soldiers from the Northfield garrison along with each wagon and warned the men to keep watch for trouble. Now that Kit knew the attacks had come from Robillard, not Indians alone, he knew it was up to him to make some sort of move.

And Kit still wasn’t certain what that move should be. To call in more soldiers to lead an attack in retaliation on French settlements to the

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