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Page 98
Keeping her sigh to herself, she grabbed another dress and began rubbing it vigorously against the washboard in the steaming water.
"Anyway, Mademoiselle Mariah," René continued, "I cannot tell you the details, for Thorn does not talk of this incident or any other. I learned what I know from his good friend, another soldier called Ainsley. Have you met Ainsley?"
Mariah shook her head.
"All I heard," René continued, "is that some of the mothers and children went into nearby woods one day to pick blackberries. Thorn was assigned to guard them, for always there was the threat of Indian attack. Among the party was a pretty, unmarried girl. While Thorn flirted with her, the boy disappeared."
The script hadn't implied that Thorn had been flirting. That didn't seem in character, Mariah thought.
René moved to sit cross-legged on the ground beside Mariah. He watched her efforts at washing intently, as though ready to criticize if she did anything wrong. "The mother was distraught," he continued.
"Naturally," Mariah huffed as she scrubbed.
The Frenchman nodded. "A search party was formed. Tracks indicated that the boy was taken by Indians, but local friendly savages said they heard of no tribe seizing the boy. The mother nevertheless insisted on searching." He sighed. "She met with a terrible accident, and Thorn blamed himself for this, too."
Mariah stopped scrubbing for a moment. "She died, didn't she?"
"Yes. She drowned in a riveralthough Ainsley said the bank was dry and she had seemed sure-footed enough." He hesitated. "Ainsley hinted of suspicions that she killed herself in despair."
A wave of pity for Thorn gripped Mariah. Bad enough that the boy was stolen on his watch and that the boy's mother died accidentally while looking for him. But for her to have killed herself . . . "What did Thorn think?"

 
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