Hello all! I'm so sorry that I haven't updated until now. Work has been crazy and if I'm being completely honest, the must kind of died a little after the season finale. But! That is enough of that!
I present the next chapter of I and Love and You. Please read, enjoy, and review!
The brisk winter wind bit into his skin through the holes of the threadbare jacket he had wrapped himself in. Laughter and music danced out of the saloon and into the streets. He would have been annoyed at the cheery dispositions of the townspeople walking through the saloon doors, but the sweet school teacher had given him a gentle smile as she walked past him. The school teacher, one of the few people, including her sister and the cafe owner, that had treated him with any ounce of kindness…. he just couldn't find the energy to dislike or disapprove of them anymore.
The muddy ground surrounding the meager barracks for the Canadian Trunk Line railroad workers had hardened and frozen with the sudden temperature drop this morning. The crunch of gravel under his boots and the gentle thud of his soles on the cold, hard ground created a soft melody with the wind swirling around him. A storm was coming, that much was certain.
Angry, drunken shouts greeted Joshua Chang as he finally made it back to his barracks camp. Men walked around the shanty houses they all called home, some of them laughing together, others brawling in the middle of the streets. Joshua paid them no mind. He simply wanted to get into this little hut, start a fire in the even smaller fire pit, and go to sleep.
His heart stopped when he realized a fire had already been started and a young man with a nice suite and perfectly slicked back hair was sitting on his lumpy cot, the man's bowler hat resting at the foot of Joshua's bed.
Fear shot through him as Joshua noticed the letter in the man's hand. Joshua had yet to burn his last correspondence with C.K.
"I thought," the young man spoke calmly, though annoyance and anger saturated his every word, "that I had made it clear how important it is to burn any and all communications between us."
Charles Kensington glared at Joshua as he walked over to the small fire in the center of the shanty and threw the letter into the orange and yellow flames. Joshua watched as the letter curled and charred and the embers filtered up through the hole in the center of the ceiling that let the fire's smoke escape.
"Yes sir," Joshua's words were timid and measured, unsure of how to interact with the man in front of him, "I'm sorry for…"
"If you cannot follow simple instructions, Mr. Chang," Charles cut Joshua off, completely uninterested in what excuses the young man could muster, "Perhaps there is no further need for my partner and I to uphold our end of the bargain.
Joshua's eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. Anger seared through him, a vision of punching Charles right in his perfectly square jaw flashing behind his eyes. Joshua clenched his fist in anticipation when another vision, this one much more precious flooded his vision. A little girl with curious brown eyes, a soft, rounded face and gapped tooth grin dancing in the rain and splashing in the puddles forming on the poorly kept roads in between dilapidated shops and crumbling tenement homes.
Joshua went pale at the thought of her. Charles seemed to notice. A hateful chuckle escaped Charles mouth and a sense of dread flowed in Joshua's veins.
"Don't worry, Mr. Chang," Charles' voice was calm and polished and so perfectly measured that it made Joshua want to scream, "your younger sister is perfectly safe. So long as you follow your instructions and adhere to our agreement."
Joshua swallowed hard, his spit rubbing against his throat like sandpaper. He watched as Charles walked a few steps, making the appearance of looking around the poorly built shanty that Joshua called home.
"There is a new shipment coming in from Union City," Charles explained as he looked at the few objects on the splintered crate Joshua used as a bedside table. A tobacco pipe, sewing needles and thread, and a tattered Bible. His hand moved to touch the worn leather, only to pull back suddenly, as if the material would burn his skin like fire would the letter he had disposed of minutes ago.
Charles looked back up to Joshua, "Half of the shipment will go on to Yellowknife. Several runners will transport it to a small outpost warehouse up North. The other half stays here for you to sell. And not just to the railroad workers."
Joshua's brow raised at Charles last comment, "What?"
Charles sat down on Joshua's cot, crossing his right leg over, looking regal and dignified in the ramshackle shanty while discussing his drug trade with the Chinese railroad worker in front of him, "We are looking to expand our cliental, Mr. Chang. You will begin selling to the good people of Hope Valley as well as your… railroad rabble."
"You do realize there is a sheriff and a Mountie here, yes? The one who very nearly caught you and Lao red-handed!" Joshua exclaimed, "Not to mention the fact that another Mountie actually lives here and is married to the school teacher," Joshua watched, confused, as Charles stiffened and grimaced at the mention of the school teacher. But he carried on, "I'm risking my neck enough as it is just selling out here with the workers."
Charles' jaw clenched and he stood up quickly, striding over to Joshua, towering over him. His fists curled around Joshua's coat lapels and pulled the young man close enough that he could feel Charles breath on his skin, "Don't you worry about either of those Mounties. One is as incompetent as he is arrogant. The only reason he found out anything about our operation in Hamilton and Cape Fullerton is because of the sloppy work of two employees that have been taken care of."
Charles shoved Joshua back, his nostrils flared and his perfectly coiffed hair now falling in front of his eyes, "And the one in the Northern Territories will be dealt with but Lao personally. You do your job, Mr. Chang. Follow my instructions. Or your sister will be the one to pay for your incompetence."
With that, Charles picked up his bowler hat, ran his hand through his hair, and place his hat perfectly atop his head, "Goodnight Mr. Chang. I expect bi-weekly reports."
Charles exited the shanty and Joshua was left alone with his thoughts echoing with the crackling of the small fire, still burning brightly.
She couldn't get the taste of that horrible cake out of her mouth. It was terribly kind of Cody and Robert but the boys simply couldn't bake. Elizabeth smiled softly as she remembered their ecstatic faces as she took a bite of their attempted chocolate cake. She had a feeling it was a glimpse into the joys of motherhood, the innate desire to ensure those smiling faces never fell. Jack would have laughed at the sight.
Elizabeth's grin faltered, her nightmare racing through her mind again….Jack's body slumped on a horse that was not his own, a tall, broad man trying desperately to hold her husband upright as he nursed a nasty looking shoulder wound…. Jack's lips were parched, cracking in places, his face thin and his skin a sickly pale white. The man trying his best to gently pull Jack from the horse, only to nearly drop him as Carson and Lee came running to help…. Elizabeth closed her eyes fighting a well of tears.
A tiny foot kicked through her stomach.
The sounds of laughter and music echoed in Elizabeth's ears as she and Abigail left the saloon. The air was chilly, her breath coming out in little puffs of smoke. Abigail giggled beside her as Mr. Yost's singing, so heartfelt yet so off key, managed to cut through the thick doors of the saloon and into the nearly deserted street. Elizabeth grinned at the sound.
"This shouldn't take too long," Elizabeth began, smiling from ear to ear, "I think I left it in my desk."
"Alright," Abigail was still smiling when she Elizabeth glanced over to see a red Mountie serge cloaked in the darkness.
"Jack," Elizabeth whispered his name like a prayer, a brilliant smile forming on her lips. She felt the baby kick rapidly, as if sensing its mother's excitement.
Abigail followed the young woman's gaze. Her eyes narrowed at the figure as he dismounted his horse.
Elizabeth's smile fell as she took in the figure. He wasn't as tall or as broad as Jack. His hair was parted on the wrong side and he fell from his horse in an ungraceful manner, something Jack would never do. The breath was ripped from her lungs as the cold night air settled around Elizabeth, "I'm sorry, I thought you were… I thought you were someone else."
The Mountie pulled his horse as he walked towards them. Elizabeth watched as his adams apple bobbed rapidly. He refused to look either of them in the eye as removed his Stetson as he spoke.
"I'm looking for Elizabeth Thornton."
Abigail's blood ran cold. A dreadful sense of familiarity settled in her bones. It couldn't be… Dear God… please. Please don't do this to them. Abigail prayed silently that she was wrong, that Jack was fine. She began to reach for Elizabeth anyway.
Elizabeth refused to acknowledge Abigail beside her. Her world was focused solely on the young man in front of her. Her world was hanging by a thread on his answer to the question burning her tongue, "Is he hurt?"
"No ma'am," was his solemn reply.
Elizabeth could feel the baby kicking frantically as panic settled underneath her ribs. Dread settled in her veins. Abigail's gentle hands on her arm seared her skin. Desperation saturated every word in her plea. "Please just… tell me he's alive."
The Mountie's head fell as he gripped his Stetson closer to his chest, "I'm sorry,"
Elizabeth couldn't hear the rest of his useless apology. A cry ripped from her throat and Abigail's arms wrapped around her as she fell to the ground.
Elizabeth gasped as she bolted upright in bed. Sweat soaked the rumpled bed sheets of the feather mattress. Tears fell silently from her face as she tried to settle her breathing. The thump of tiny feet underneath her ribs comforted and terrified her. Elizabeth's eyes shut tightly, trying desperately to erase the images just behind her eyelids. It wasn't working.
Elizabeth dared to look at Jack's side of the bed, silently begging God that he would be there,. HIs hair would be rustled from sleep and his chest would be rising and falling evenly as he slept soundly. She knew he wouldn't be. That his side of the bed would be occupied by her sister. She knew that Julie would be there, sleeping deeply after coming in and lulling Elizabeth back to sleep only a few a hours ago. Except she wasn't. Confusion clouded Elizabeth's sleepy mind.
"Beth?"
That voice…
Fresh tears began to form in Elizabeth's stormy blue eyes. Relief flooded through her as a pair of gentle, reassuring arms wrapped around her. The scent of lavender and vanilla flooded her nose and melted the ice settling around her heart. Elizabeth let out a choked sob as Grace Thatcher hugged her daughter tight to her breast. Elizabeth clawed at the soft cotton of her mother's travel clothes.
"Oh my dear," Grace's voice was soft and velvety, the weight of wisdom and care and compassion hanging on every word, "Elizabeth, my darling, what is wrong?"
Elizabeth vaguely heard the soft padding of bare feet on the hardwood floor but paid no mind to it. How was her mother here? What time was it? Thank God it was only a dream.
"Mother," Elizabeth's eyes widened at the sight of the woman in front of her, "How… how are you here?"
Grace tucked a few errant strands that had fallen from Elizabeth's braid just behind her Elizabeth''s ear. She took in the sight of her middle daughter. Elizabeth's eyes dance in confusion and relief. Clouds of grey and blue threatened a flood. Pupils dilated in fear and uncertainty. Full, black eyelashes were wet with tears and the sight broke Grace's heart. A sudden flash of anger towards Jack Thornton, unwarranted as it was, burned through her. Her daughter was alone, with child no less, and he was off in God knows where doing God knows what. Shame flooded through her next. It's not his fault, Grace berated herself. It's no one's fault.
"Don't you worry about that now, dear one," Grace's maternal timbre washed over Elizabeth and settled the rapid beating of her heart, "Right now, I need you to calm down, just a bit. This kind of stress isn't good for you or the baby."
She stroked Elizabeth's slightly rounded cheek and placed her other hand on her daughter's swelling stomach. Grace could feel the steady kick of her grandchild underneath her soft, weathered hand, "With a kick that strong," Grace whispered, hoping to ease the tension in Elizabeth's shoulders, "it must be a girl. Only Thatcher girls kick that hard."
Elizabeth attempted to laugh, but it caught in her throat, morphing into a horrid sob. The memory came rushing back so quickly it knocked the wind right out of her.
Sunlight was coming in through the window just behind him. The ethereal glow around him made Jack look like an angel; a glorious angel meant just for her, forever. Warmth, desire, and an unexplainable giddiness rushed through her as his tender, calloused hand traced down her naked spine. Elizabeth giggled.
Jack's grin was wicked as he pulled her closer so her chest was flush against his, "Are you ticklish?"
Elizabeth continued to giggle as she shook her head, "No. I'm just so… so indescribably happy," she smiled brightly as her hand found its way up to his stubbly cheek. Elizabeth's nails caught on the whiskers that had grown in overnight. A low growl settled in Jack's chest as Elizabeth's hand moved to card through his disheveled hair. She began to play with the cowlick at the back of his head, twirling it with her fingers. She watched as Jack's gaze glazed over into a dreamy stare.
"What?" Elizabeth laughed after a few moments of Jack's quiet gaze.
Jack smiled shyly, and it took everything in Elizabeth not to kiss the grin off his full lips.
"I want a little girl, just like you. I want to look into her eyes and just feel my heart shatter when I see your spirit in her little eyes."
She would never get used to this, the complete vulnerability in his gaze, the absolute trust he had in her to hold his heart. Elizabeth had read book after book containing the greatest love stories put on paper. She had hidden them in her tender heart, convinced that they were the measuring stick to any suitor or beau that attempted to win her heart. She had believed, for so long, that love was grand moments, powerful declarations and heroic deeds. How foolish she had been.
Love grew slowly in the quiet moments.
Elizabeth's love for Jack had surprised her, sneaking up on her so suddenly that she had run back to Hamilton to get away from it. She burrowed back into her old life, certain that the flutter in her heart at the mere mention of Jack's name would dissipate. And when it didn't, and when everything in Hamilton of all places reminded Elizabeth of Jack, she understood that there was no running from it. That there was nothing to do but embrace it.
And Jack had been there, waiting patiently for Elizabeth to discover what he had known for some time. They were destined for one another, to build a life together. And though their marriage was just beginning, Elizabeth couldn't help but picture children with deep, hazel eyes and dark brown hair with cowlicks in the back. A vision of a little boy running through a field with Rip chasing behind him, the cackle of the imaginary child echoed by the chuckle of his father, running just behind him.
"What if we have a boy," Elizabeth asked teasingly.
Jack's brow furrowed in concentration, his voice even and serious, "We'll pawn him off to Lee and Rosie. Then try again."
Elizabeth cackled as Jack smiled at his own joke, "I don't think so," she began, "none of my children are allowed to be pawned."
Jack pulled Elizabeth in for a kiss, her soft, full lips pliant under his mouth. A dainty sigh echoed in the back of her throat and Jack's blood began to race. He loved when she made that sound. He pulled back just a moment and nearly giggled himself at the look of confusion and annoyance at his breaking off the kiss on Elizabeth's face.
"I promise you, Mrs. Thornton," Jack's voice was low and rich and warm, like cinnamon tea on a cold autumn evening, "We will have an entire little clan of Thornton babies."
His heart skipped a beat as Elizabeth's eyelids lowered and she bit her lip teasingly, "Promises are well and good, Sergeant Thornton," had she always said his name like that, "But I prefer a man of action."
Jack kissed the grin off her face as he rolled on top of her….
"He should be here for this, Mother," Elizabeth cried out, "He deserves to be here for all of this."
"Hush now, child," Grace's gently stroked Elizabeth's back while she cried into her mother's neck. The scent of lavender and vanilla washed over her again, "Deep breaths, Beth. Deep breaths."
Elizabeth followed her mother's instruction, her mother's voice wrapping her up in a warm blanket as exhaustion washed over her.
The tea kettle screamed on the stove top while Julie pulled to cups down from the cupboard. She moved the sugar bowl over to the center of the small dining table along with the cream dish.
"That's the fourth time this week she's had a nightmare," Julie admitted tiredly as she stared deep into her cup of tea, warm and welcoming between her delicate hands. She swallowed as the words forming behind her teeth practically burned her mouth.
"And there haven't been any letters from Jack for six weeks," Julie whispered.
Grace closed her eyes briefly, letting her youngest daughter's words sink in, "How often does he write?"
Julie drew a sip from her cup before answering, "She usually gets two or three letters every three weeks. This is the longest she's gone without any news from anyone. I just…" Julie stopped and Grace watched as tears formed in her daughter's eyes, "She's always been so strong, Mother. Beth has always been the voice of reason and to see her like this… I can't fix it for her."
It amazed Grace to see how much Julie had changed over the past two years. No… not changed… blossomed.
Julie Thatcher had always had a tender heart, but she no longer wore it on her sleeve. It was open still, and freely given to those who deserved it. But it was wiser, no longer prone to jump into the hands of anyone and everyone who so much as chanced a glance. Julie's spirit, was still imaginative, creative, and she would often have her head in the clouds. But Julie was steady now, able to reign in the frantic energy that had once made her so flighty and inconsistent. Grace Thatcher's youngest daughter had become more of herself, had grown into the woman she was always meant to be.
Grace stretched her silky had out to hold onto Julie's. Her youngest daughter looked across the table, desperation and a cry for help swimming in her eyes.
"You're right," was all Grace could say, "We can't make this go away. All we can do is be here for Beth, help her keep faith that Jack will come home. And we can only pray that he will…."
Julie nodded before she took another sip of tea.
A gentle silence fell between them as the mantle clock ticked in the background… until Julie broke it.
"Not that I'm not thrilled to see you, Mother," Julie began, a quizzical look etched on her brow, "but what are you doing here? I thought Father was coming."
Grace smiled at her daughter's curiosity, "I was actually the surprise your father mentioned in his last letter. I'm staying for the month to help you with the wedding and help Beth prepare for the baby and finishing up the house," Grace took another sip of tea, "Your father was supposed to come with me but there was a problem with several trading vessels and he's been tied up in ledgers and import agents."
"You traveled from Hamilton to Hope Valley on your own?" Julie's eyes widened at the thought, "I would never have believed it."
A hearty, yet quiet laugh erupted from Grace's lips, "I didn't, I'm afraid. No," Grace took another sip of tea, "Charles accompanied me. He's been meaning to come out to discuss new shipping contracts with Mr. Coulter for several months now. He'll be staying at the saloon for the next few days before returning to Hamilton."
Julie went quiet at the mention of Charles Kensington.
She'd never been overly fond of Charles, even when they were children. He followed Beth too closely, possessively even. There was an arrogance that permeated around him from a young age and Julie was only too happy when Beth had rejected his proposal so long ago. The nerve of the man to propose to her sister when she was so clearly in love with Jack aggravated Julie to no end.
"And how is Charles," Julie asked politely, good breading and years of etiquette coaching forcing the question from her tongue.
Grace sighed deeply, suddenly wishing her tea to turn into a Hot Toddy, "Insufferable to be honest."
Julie nearly spit out her tea at Grace's confession, "Why?"
"Ever since Beth and Jack married he's been so… aggravating. He's mopey and quick tempered and he's constantly pestering your father and I for news about Beth and Jack. Your father has nearly fired him twice and I honestly wish he had after last time."
"What happened last time?" Julie pushed for further details. She nearly fainted when she saw her mother, the Grace Thatcher, rolled her eyes.
"He had the nerve to tell your father that shouldn't have come back to Hamilton without Beth! That he should have forced their marriage to be annulled and dragged her onto the train back to civilization and appropriate society."
"No he did not!" Julie's voice rose in disgust and disbelief.
"Yes he did," Grace mumbled, "I swear, Julie, the only reason your father didn't fire Charles then and there was because of all of this import agency nonsense. He couldn't come to Hope Valley to negotiate with Mr. Coulter and he didn't trust Charles to deal with the import agents and auditors to go over the ledgers."
Julie let out a humorless chuckle, "Well hopefully when Charles gets back to Hamilton, Father will wash his hands of it all."
Grace nodded, "I hope you're right. You know…" Grace started, "It's funny to think about how much has changed this past year."
Julie's brow furrowed, "What do you mean?"
Grace looked down into her tea cup, gathering her thoughts as she stared into the creamy liquid, "If you had told me that I would one day find the mere thought of Charles repulsive I would have called you mad. That your father would be defending Jack and arguing with Charles over every little thing… That you would be happily engaged with a full time position at a dress shop…I would have thought the world had turned upside down…. It's amazing how much things can change is so short a time."
"And for the better," Julie added.
Grace nodded, "And for the better."
His teeth chattered violently as the wind ripped through the thinning tree line. The thick collar of his navy coat blocked his bare neck from the vicious winter air. Snow was beginning to fall again, the white powder already collecting on the brim of his hat, catching on to the hair of his thickening beard, and accumulating on the frozen ground.
The sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon, the bright yellows and oranges melting in the sky giving off the smallest amounts of illumination to the ramshackle huts in front of him.
"I count five men," Fraser declared quietly as his brown eyes scanned the dimly lit terrain.
"There's nine guarding the perimeter," Jack corrected the Mountie sergeant under his breath, careful to make too much noise lest one of the perimeter guards catch wind of him and the rest of the unit hiding within the tree line.
"Plus the three guarding the center shack," Matty remarked, "that makes twelve."
Fraser's jaw clenched and Jack could have sworn he saw the Mountie sergeant roll his eyes at Mattie's rebuttal. It made him what to walk over to Fraser and punch him square in the jaw.
Jack was a patient man and slow to anger, but Fraser's arrogance was quickly eating away at Captain Thornton's easy temperament. Pride lead to rash actions to prove oneself. Rash actions lead to poorly thought out strategy which almost always meant dead or injured Mounties. And Fraser's pride had already cost them several good, strong young men.
"Lao's always ready for a fight," Jeremiah added, "he and the men inside with him will be armed. You can bet on that."
"Assuming he's even here," Fraser mumbled under his breath.
Jack fought every impulse to roll his eyes and instead glanced over to Fraser, "We've been tracking this party for over a week. Shelby and Dawson confirmed that the Chinese man with them was Lao based on Mountie descriptions. And Jeremiah has assured us that this is the only outpost left for them. It's more likely than not that it is Lao with them and if that's true… if that's true we'll capture him and go home."
It nearly took the breath out of him to mutter those last few words… we can go home. A chill, a pleasant one, ran through Jack as an emotion he had not felt in months settled in his bones… hope. But he had to squash it down, had to keep it buried. It would be too easy to wrap himself up in the idea of home… of Abigail's scones and her gentle, mothering smile… of Lee and Rosie playfully arguing about who could drive the car into town… of the school bell ringing in the distance as he made his rounds… of Elizabeth on the steps ushering her students in… of their baby tucked safely in a handmade crib.
It would be so easy to lose focus.
And Jack couldn't lose focus… not when they were so close.
The sun peaked out over the horizon a little more…
"You know," Jack started, his hazel eyes already clouding over with a memory, "When I was younger, I used to have really bad nightmares. I would always wake up when everyone was still asleep, even my pa," a wistful smile danced across his lips and Elizabeth snuggled in just a little closer to give him some comfort.
"I would just light a candle and read or play solitaire. But then my pa started getting up earlier, a few hours before sunrise. He would sit with me and tell me stories or play cards with me or read with me while Tom and Ma were asleep. And he would take me out on the front porch and we would just watch the sun rise."
A kind, soft grin settled on Jack's lips and Elizabeth didn't try to stop the identical smile from forming on her own, "I was so enamored with the colors of it. The oranges and yellows and pinks. One morning…" a sadness the Elizabeth had seen in his eyes before, a sadness she could name but had never experienced, settled in his gaze and it broke her heart, "One morning I told him I wished that I could paint the sunrise, like Ma did. The next thing I knew, Ma was teaching me how to draw and paint. And when I couldn't sleep, I would light a candle and draw."
Elizabeth was quiet as she watched the weight of his memories sink in. The corners of his mouth upturned but not enough for his handsome dimples to carve into his stubbly cheeks. Without thinking, she raised her delicate hand to trace on Jack's cheek were his dimples would be.
"I hated the mornings when I was little girl," Elizabeth admitted humorously, a gentle chuckle escaping from Jack as she talked, "Our governess would throw back the curtains and yell at us until we got out of bed. She was a horrid woman."
Jack laughed out right and Elizabeth felt an overwhelming sense of pride in making him happy. She always could, in seemed, find a way to make him smile when his mind wandered to darker places. Jack's heart had been so heavy for so long with the memory of his father, his desire and his duty to make his parents proud, his guilt in his inability to help his brother overcome his own grief for so long. Elizabeth made Jack's burdens lighter because she helped him carry them. She listened and held him and loved him. Her love for him had become a fact of life, a fact that Jack still couldn't quite believe.
"She would have us do Latin drills at the breakfast table and she would make us recite sonnets at tea time. I love to learn but that woman would turn anyone off the idea of education," Elizabeth continued her story and Jack simply basked in the sound of her voice, so rough and rich and warm in the early morning hours.
"I loved the evening because it meant I could do however I pleased," Elizabeth grew wistful herself and Jack could practically see what she looked like as little girl, curiosity and strength and a hint of rebelliousness twinkling in her sapphire eyes, "I would hide myself in Father's library and curl up in one of the high back chairs while I read. And when he would come home from work, he and I would sit in silence together while he worked and I read."
She turned toward him, her bright eyes fixed upon his face and Jack's breath caught in his chest. He had never felt more safe and comfortable and vulnerable and excited than when he was trapped in her gaze and in her arms, "I like the mornings now, though," Elizabeth paused for a moment, her fingernails scratching just behind his ear, "I like waking up to you."
Her voice teasing and tempting and all too alluring to do anything other than kiss her senseless...
"I don't know why you even listen to that nigger."
Jack nearly bit his tongue in half to squash the roar rising in his throat as Fraser's words rattled in his brain and floated on the wind. Jeremiah went stiff beside him and somehow seemed to shrink behind the trunk he was hiding behind.
Jack could feel Shelby, Ouimet, Brady, Dawson and Reynolds' eyes on him, watching anxiously to see how their commanding officer would react. Jack slowly turned his head and attention away from the men just past the tree line. He could see Matty struggling to reign in his own anger and desire to deck Fraser in the face.
It would be so easy… too easy to lose focus.
And Jack couldn't lose focus… not when he was so close.
"Jeremiah has been nothing but honest and helpful since we raided his party almost two months ago. He has lead us to three drug holds and one armory hold. We've run out and arrested more gun and drug runners than any other unit stationed in the Northern Territories and that almost entirely due to the information he has supplied," Jack practically spit out his rebuttal to Fraser, "He has been pardoned of his crimes by the Governor General of Canada due to his actions and has continued, of his own free will, to aid the Northwest Mounted Police after the fact."
Jack paid no attention to Matty's proud grin as his commanding officer railed against the smug Sergeant Fraser. He paid little attention to the grateful, humble smile threatening to form on Jeremiah's face that was visible in Jack's peripheral. His gaze was fixed solely on Fraser's smug grimace falter and embarrassment. Good, Jack thought, maybe this will finally shut the moron up, "He has done nothing but prove himself time and time again that he is a good, trustworthy man. Not to mention the fact that he has saved your hide on more than one occasion, Sergeant Fraser. That is why we listen to Mr. Tremblay. Because he's worth listening to. Unlike some people in our party."
Fraser blanched before blushing at Jack's last comment. Shelby and Reynolds chuckled quietly while Reynolds, Ouimet and Dawson fought hard to keep a smirk off their faces. Matty didn't even try to dampen his delight at Fraser's embarrassment, "I've got to hand it to you, Fraser. You never fail to make an arse of yourself."
Reynolds and Ouimet let out a chuckle at Matty's comment. Fraser's blush deepened.
Jack glanced at Jeremiah, giving the man a brief nod before turning back to the Mounties beside and behind him, "That's enough."
The laughter ceased and their eyes focused on their captain. Jack swallowed hard, glancing between his men and the criminals just past the trees that separated them.
It would be so easy… so quick to jump up and charge them. But it would be rash and stupid. Patience was the name of the game here. Patience was required to form an effective plan of attack, to gather guard rotation patters and to garner an accurate head count of potentially armed men.
It would be so easy… too easy to lose focus.
And Jack couldn't lose focus… not when he was so close.
"What now, sir," Matty's voice cut through the building silence.
Jack looked back over to the Mountie squad, "We wait until nightfall…. Then we infiltrate."
All right! There it is! Please drop me a review or a direct message with any comments you have about the story!
And if all goes according to plan, I should have the next chapter up by this time next week!
All the Best,
grayhello22
