Chapter 6

Alexandre loved the smile that bloomed on Miss LeBlanc’s face when he spoke of his mission work. He often received mixed responses when he told people he was going to work with the Indians.

“Are you familiar with the Chippewa, Miss LeBlanc?” he asked.

She nodded, and her glossy black hair caught the light from the wall lantern and shone. Her dark brown eyes were even more beautiful close up, but especially now, when they glowed with warmth, and they drew him in.

“I’m very familiar with the Chippewa.” She paused for a moment and then continued a bit hesitantly. “My father was a fur trader in northern Minnesota Territory when I was young. He spoke of the Chippewa at length.”

She paused again, so he took a chair, hoping she would share more. He was eager to learn all he could about the people he would serve. “Continuer.”

“Papa would have stayed in Minnesota Territory, if my mother hadn’t died.”

“Was your mother French?”

She shook her head, and sadness permeated her dark eyes. “My mother was Chippewa. She was killed during a raid by the Dakota. I was only four years old.”

Alexandre couldn’t imagine losing his mother. She had been so much a part of his childhood and had shaped him in ways no other person had. “I’m so sorry. Have you been back to see your mother’s people?”

“No, but I’ve helped to raise funds for the missions here in Minnesota Territory. It’s the very least I could do.”

“But doesn’t Jesus say ‘inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me’? Your work, no matter how small, is valuable to God.”

Her cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink.

“Your time is almost up,” the maid said quietly.

Miss LeBlanc’s eyes lifted to Alexandre’s. “Do you not want a wife, Mr. Dugas?”

The simple question brought a deep and insatiable longing to his soul. Twelve years ago, he had left his parents’ farm and gone to seminary school. When he arrived in New Orleans to preach, he had been sidetracked by Isobel and lured into her father’s business instead. Last year, when Isobel had broken their engagement, he had finally answered God’s call and made his way up the river. He couldn’t allow another beautiful woman to cause him to stray once again—but maybe Miss LeBlanc was different. She was a believer and had a heart for the Chippewa—so unlike Isobel. He was going to Belle Prairie as an independent minister and wasn’t required to be married—but it was desirable for him to have a wife.

Could he and Miss LeBlanc help each other?

The unexpected thought sent energy pulsing through his veins. “May I ask why you are here looking for a husband, Miss LeBlanc?”

Her eyes went to the clock on a parlor table, and she spoke rapidly. “I just discovered that when my half brother turns twenty-one in two weeks, he will become the sole inheritor of my father’s estate and business.” She swallowed. “But, if I am married, my father’s will stipulates that my husband and I will retain half of everything.” She paused, and her voice became grave. “If I’m not married, I’m at my brother’s mercy, and I will be turned out on the street.”

Alexandre stared at her. Was he crazy to even consider helping her? Surely there were other men who could better serve her purposes.

But then he recalled the men in the ballroom, and their coarse joking at her expense. What kind of a man could she possibly find who would treat her with the respect she deserved?

A knock sounded at the door, and the gruff woman stuck her head inside. “Your time is up. The next man is waiting to come in.”

“Couldn’t we have a few more minutes, Mrs. Foreman?” Miss LeBlanc pleaded.

The man with the dimpled chin strode into the room, his shameless stare settling on Miss LeBlanc. “I’m Amos Doolittle.”

Alexandre needed more time and information. “How will you secure your inheritance?” he asked Miss LeBlanc.

Her eyes flew from Amos to Alexandre. “I need to travel back to St. Louis and present my marriage certificate to the judge.”

“It’s as simple as that?” he asked.

Mr. Doolittle nudged him on the shoulder. “Time’s up, mister.”

Alexandre stood, and then Miss LeBlanc stood, her eyes locked on his. “As simple as that.”

Mr. Doolittle looked at Alexandre with steely eyes. “I said, time’s up.”

Alexandre needed more time to think. If they took the steamboat to St. Louis, presented the marriage certificate, and then traveled back by steamboat, they could be at Belle Prairie in about two and a half weeks. Surely the directors wouldn’t mind waiting a bit longer.

Miss LeBlanc’s face had become pale, her eyes pleading with Alexandre.

Why did he feel the sudden need to help her?

Lord, is this the right path to take?

“I need to ask you to leave,” Mrs. Foreman said. “There are seventy other men waiting—and some of them are getting a bit unruly.”

Miss LeBlanc’s chest rose and fell quickly, and he imagined her heart was pumping as fast as his. He moved to the door, and Mr. Doolittle took his place on the chair, without waiting for Miss LeBlanc to sit first.

She bit her bottom lip, her brown eyes desperate.

His pulse thrummed in his body, making his head pound. He couldn’t marry her—it would be ludicrous. Just a half hour ago he didn’t even know the lady.

Non.

He tipped his head in farewell. “It’s been a pleasure, Miss LeBlanc. Au revoir.”

She slowly sank onto the sofa next to her maid, her shoulders slumped. “Au revoir, Monsieur Dugas.”

Alexandre stepped out into the ballroom, regret making his legs feel like lead. The men had formed a line, with the redheaded man named Clayton at the front. Clayton turned to the man next to him. “The rest of us might as well go home. Amos will tell her whatever she wants to hear.”

Alexandre looked back at the closed door.

“Doesn’t he already have a wife?” asked the man behind Clayton.

Clayton shrugged. “What does it matter out here on the frontier?”

Mrs. Foreman stood in front of the door like a watchdog, her arms crossed and her eyes never resting.

Alexandre rubbed his sweaty palms against his pant legs. He couldn’t leave Miss LeBlanc to face these men—what would become of her?

She hadn’t been his concern half an hour ago, but during the course of their conversation, he’d begun to feel that God had brought him here to do something.

Before he talked himself out of it, he charged back to Mrs. Foreman. “I need to speak with Miss LeBlanc.”

“Your time is up.”

“But I need to ask her something.”

“You’ll have to wait in the back of the line to get another chance—”

“I need to ask her to marry me.”

Mrs. Foreman’s face lit with a smile. “Why didn’t you say so?” She opened the door and Alexandre stepped back into the sitting room.

Miss LeBlanc rose to her feet, her eyes enormous. “Mr. Dugas!”

“Will you marry me, Miss LeBlanc?”

Her lips parted in surprise. “Truly?”

He prayed this wasn’t the biggest mistake of his life. “Truly.”

Mrs. Foreman shouted into the ballroom. “Send in the justice of the peace!”