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God bless you.”
    The door to her booth slid open and her footsteps echoed toward the altar.
    Remaining inside his booth, Brother Andre leaned his head against the screen, whispering his own confession. Once again, the English lady had stirred up the celibate man’s loins. He touched himself, reliving Willow’s fantasy of him ravishing her in bed, his face between her bare bosoms, kissing the pink rose petals of her areolas…
    The front door opened, and a hollow wind roared into the chapel like God’s fury. Brother Andre jerked his hand away. “Oh, dear God, please forgive me.” He stepped out of the confessional closet, both relieved and disappointed that Willow had left. Once again thoughts of her roused Andre with a heat that spread across his loins. He went into his bedchamber and sat on his bed. “I vow to be chaste! I vow to be chaste!” As he chanted, he grabbed a rubber cudgel and flogged his thighs.
    14
     
    At Hospital House, Tom Hatcher soaked his frost-bitten hands in warm water.
    Myrna Riley, the gray-haired wife of the fort’s doctor, brought a tray with a porcelain teapot and cups into the patient’s room. “Here you go, gentlemen. Black tea with milk and sugar. I’ve got vegetable soup cooking for the little one when she’s awake.”
    “Thanks, love.” Doc Riley dipped a rag into a basin and wiped Zoé Lamothe’s forehead.
    Tom was grateful to be drinking something to warm his body.
    Myrna paused on her way out of the room. “Oh, Inspector, Lieutenant Hysmith’s in the front room. He insists that you speak to him.”
    Tom stepped out into a waiting area.
    Lieutenant Zachary Hysmith stood by the front door, unraveling a snow-frosted scarf. He wore a long greatcoat over his red uniform and a lieutenant’s hat, which he removed. He had cropped silver hair and a sharp widow’s peak. “Tom, upon your arrival, did Master Pendleton not orient you on the protocols of fort security?”
    “Of course,” Tom said. “Why, is something ailing you, Hysmith?”
    The lieutenant had a burning look in his eyes. “The way you spoke to me in front of the garrison was disrespectful and absolutely unacceptable.” He removed his gloves, and Tom wondered if the uptight soldier was going to slap his cheeks with them.
    “I was concerned about the girl.” Tom squared up to him. “You were being a horse’s arse and wasting precious time. Doc thinks she might have pneumonia.”
    Hysmith hesitated briefly, considering this. “Well, you broke protocol bringing her here. I have the fort’s security to think about. We don’t let just any heathen inside our walls.”
    “I had a life or death crisis. When that happens, bugger protocol.”
    Hysmith’s face turned red. “Inspector, you may have done as you bloody wished back in Montréal, but as long as you reside at this fort, you will adhere to my orders!”
    “The only authority I answer to is that of Master Pendleton. If you have an issue, Hysmith, go discuss it with him. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a sick girl to tend to.” Tom stepped back into Zoé’s room. Hysmith followed.
    Tom said, “Doc, tell us some good news.”
    The old man pressed a stethoscope to the child’s bleach-white chest. “Wish I could, gentlemen. But she’s got a bad case of pneumonia.” Doc Riley pulled down the flesh beneath Zoé’s dilated eyes. “Symptoms of scurvy and frostbite, too. And by the looks of her ribs, she hasn’t eaten in days. Maybe a week.” Doc scratched his white sideburns.
    “How far could she have ridden in that blizzard?” Tom asked.
    Doc said, “It’s twenty miles between here and Manitou Outpost.”
    “All that way to deliver a diary?” Tom asked.
    Hysmith’s brow furrowed. “What diary?”
    Tom picked up a small, leather-bound book off the table. “Zoé was carrying this with her. We think she was trying to deliver a message.”
    Hysmith examined the diary. “What kind of language is this?”
    “Looks Persian.” Tom held up a