Today I have an exciting guest on my blog. He's handsome, he's rugged, he's got a story that will intrigue you. In fact, he's a hero. His name is René Dufour, and he's coming to you straight out of my new novel
Mist O'er the Voyageur.
Would you like to meet him?
(A broad-shouldered man enters, bronzed and wind-swept in appearance. He removes a red wool cap and pushes back unruly hair almost as black as his beard. Pressing the cap in his hands, he dips his head in greeting. He wears a white muslin shirt and buckskin leggings. A ceinture fléchée, or arrow sash, woven in hues of bright red and blue circles his waist. Dark eyes shadowed by thick brows intrigue me.)
(Ah, we have to keep a bit of the mystery, right?)
Interview with René Dufour:
"Welcome to
More Reason to Write, Monsieur, Dufour." (I point to a seat.)
"Please, call me René, or simply Dufour. I do not stand on formality." (He settles in the wooden chair and lays the wool cap on his lap.)
"All right, René. Thank you for traveling down the lake to meet with us today. Was it a long journey?"
"I left my post not many leagues north only two days ago and came directly. My crew awaits at our encampment. Tomorrow we embark further into the west. The weather, it changes quickly now, and soon we must set out our traps."
"You will not be returning to Montreal this year?"
"Once in every three years I must return and give my report to the company. Last year I went to Montreal, so I need not return again for two more years." (Grins) "It was a visit like none I've had before."
"You met someone there, if I understand correctly."
"
Oui, Madam. I met a fiery woman who wanted to spit on me." (Chuckles) "We had much to learn about one another."
"I don't want to give too much away to my readers. Let's back up. Tell us about your role as a
voyageur."
(A nonchalant shrug from René) "It is the usual role. We voyageurs paddle our
canots for hours on end. Sixteen in a day is usual, with a pipe stop once every hour or so. It is dangerous, of course. One cannot always judge the mood of the Great Lakes or the peril of the rivers."
"You are brave men indeed."
"So some say. It is a life many feel called to. Others come to it of necessity. I have been given the chance to rise in the company. Others are not as fortunate. I did not come into my job as clerk until after I had spent several years with the company."
"You refer often to 'the company'."
"
Oui, I am employed by the North West Company, though there are others, Hudson's Bay and so on. Now even the Americans have formed a company bent on a quest for furs. There is much competition among the companies, and sometimes much fighting. There are even the unlicensed
coureur-du-bois, the independent fur traders who follow no rules, but risk fines and forfeiture if they are caught."
"When did you join the North West Company?"
"I was a young man. I left my mother's home at sixteen and went to sea. After several years I returned and joined the company as an apprentice clerk. I cut my teeth for four years in the Upper Country, and eventually gained my own post at the head of this great
lac Supérieur."
"There are many rivers that run into Lake Superior, so I can see the value of such a post. Still, you've moved on."
"Now I am supervisor of a large region of traders."
"And did you come to supervise your brother's post as well?"
(Nods. His expression grows taut.) "Claude was not always easy. More often rebellious, both as a youth and as a man."
"I see. Perhaps we will let the discussion of Claude rest."
"
Merci, Madam."
(I raise a brow and a half smile.) "I would rather speak of Brigitte. You met her then, in Montreal, and she plied her way aboard your brigade."
"She came in disguise as a young man and tried very much to fill her
oncle's britches as a voyageur. Unfortunately, her femininity was difficult to hide."
"And you discovered her."
"Not immediately." (He strokes his beard.) "Not without much trouble."
"You mean Gervais?"
"
Oui, Gervais and many other men, not to mention the weight of the packs, the living conditions... a woman alone in a brigade of men. She was a temptation, even for myself, yet I felt responsible for her."
"You are somewhat older than she."
(He frowns.) "I have not forgotten."
"Perhaps it's best we end our discussion here and let readers of your tale discover more."
"Perhaps so. I have a long journey ahead, and it is time I depart. I hear the song of my voyageurs, and the lake calls me."
"Thank you, again, René. I wish you safety as you paddle your long canoe and a profitable sojourn in the wilderness."
"God is my watchman.
Au revoir."
"
Au revoir."
If you'd like to know more about René, Claude, Brigitte, and the rest of the voyageurs and men of the north, get your copy of Mist O'er the Voyageur here or try to win a copy using the Rafflecopter or by attending the Facebook event below!
AND if you like to party with other readers and have opportunities to win this and other NEW historical romance fiction, join me and authors Tamera Lynn Craft and Shannon McNear this Friday afternoon, October 26th at a Colonial Quills Tea Party on Facebook.
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