Canadian Red

by R. W. Stone

  Looking again at the wall map, Donovan replied: “What if I give you my word that I will take my leave across the border, in the States, and not involve myself in any of the investigation here in the province? Would that convince you, sir?”

  The major considered Donovan’s proposal for a moment, then nodded. “Might make a difference …” He paused. “Once you are on leave and have sworn an oath to me that you won’t involve yourself in any of the force’s activity here, then I will have no further say in the matter. As far as the NWMP policy is concerned, during a leave you are free to do as you wish. It would leave me in the clear should questions arise …”

  “Yes, sir,” Lucas assured Milton, and paused as he weighed this alternative. Then: “Well, sir, I believe that is just what I’ll do. A trip across the border might help put things in perspective. Maybe it’s about time I took a vacation. You won’t have to worry about any breach of conduct here in Canada.”

  “Very well,” the major replied, looking relieved. “Now tell me everything you can about Emerson, eh?”

  “Well, Jamie and I stumbled across a backwoods cabin during a snowstorm up north,” Lucas began. “We found a man inside, half dead from a couple knife wounds. They looked bad, but, maybe because it was so cold, the bleeding had slowed … or brought his heartbeat down … I don’t know. Anyway, he was breathing. We got a fire going in the cabin’s stove and we nursed the man, a fellow named Joseph Grant, and finally he was able to talk. Seems Grant had spent some time with this Jack Emerson,” the corporal explained. “And, Emerson did some talking about places he had been, especially when he drank. He bragged about some things he done. Grant became scared for his own safety. Then one day, the two got into an argument over something trivial, and Emerson stabbed Grant. He said he felt like he was looking into to the eyes of the devil when he did it, too.

  “Well, sir, we spent a number of days with Grant, but despite our best efforts, he finally succumbed to his wound. Infection maybe. We buried him there near his cabin—which wasn’t easy in that frozen ground—and then over the next few weeks we trailed south, looking for any sign of Emerson. Along the way we found one fellow who had been robbed, and we heard reports from others of men missing, assumed dead. The description given by the man who was robbed matched Grant’s. A powerful, solid-built man, not that tall, rough-looking.

  “Seems Emerson thinks pretty highly of himself and doesn’t believe he’s ever in the wrong. Grant thinks he enjoys hurting people. But Emerson’s arrogance might bring about his downfall eventually. He just assumed that Grant was dead, or would die from the wounds, so he simply up and left him there in the cabin. A more careful criminal would have checked to make sure his victim was dead, but not Emerson. Same thing when he shot Jamie and me. I didn’t see any tracks in the snow indicating that he had come down and checked on us to see if we were dead.

  “Anyway, after a week of trying to pick up his trail after leaving Grant’s cabin, we’d just about given up. We started south, and we came upon this small trading outpost, run by a family named Stanton. Very isolated. Emerson was there when we arrived, though we didn’t know it. He was inside … using the womenfolk, mother and grown daughter … um … let’s just say … immorally and viciously. Horace Stanton, husband and father, was tied up. Stanton said when Emerson heard us, the man jumped out of the cabin window. Apparently, we had startled him before he could do whatever he was going to do.

  “At any rate, after doing what we could to help the Stanton family, we headed out after the man, both convinced it was Emerson, based on the description the Stantons gave us. Jamie took the lead once we were that close to him, because, as you know, he’s one of the best trackers on the force.”

  “So that was close to the time you two were shot, eh?” Major Milton said, moving the story along.

  Corporal Donovan nodded. “Yes. But instead of us catching him, he caught us. He set up a false trail that led us right into his hands. We both fell for it. As I said, he’s a skilled woodsman. I don’t know how he had the time to set the trap for us.”

  The major sat back, mulling over what Donovan had said while puffing on his briar pipe. “Now, lad, show me there on the map where these encounters happened.”

  The two walked over to the map, and Lucas pointed to an area. “Grant’s cabin was here”—Lucas moved his finger down the map—“and the Stanton outpost was here, farther south.”

  Major Milton stared at the wall map. He traced a path with his pipe stem. “And you were ambushed …?”

  “Here,” Lucas said, pointing to a spot below the outpost. “He’s working his way south, sir. Or at least he was at the time we were tracking him.”

  “And you think he’s still headed south?” Major Milton asked.

  “Before he died, Grant told us that Jack Emerson has ties in the States—his family has land at a place called Willard Creek in northern Idaho. Can’t find it on our maps. We were on to him, sir, and he knows it. I think the pressure was getting to him, which is why he ambushed us. He knows we’ll be tightening the noose, so to speak, especially if he figured out we’re Mounties. And like you’ve said over and over to us, sir, nobody kills a Mountie in Canada and lives to tell it. Emerson has to know that. Even if he didn’t recognize us as constables at the time, he’ll hear about it soon if he stays around. You know how fast word of this kind of thing spreads.”

  “If he’s as arrogant as you say, he might think it clever to double back and return north,” the major opined.

  “Yes, sir, he could,” the corporal agreed, “but we’ll have a ring around the whole province. And as the noose tightens, that will force him south again. If my fellow Mounties find him anywhere in Alberta, I’ll be a very happy man, but if my theory is correct—”

  “That’s why you want to go down to the States,” the major interrupted.

  “Off the record … yes, sir,” Donovan answered.

  “I don’t like it. Don’t like the idea of you going down there after him,” the major added. “The force can’t afford to lose another good man. And you will have no one to back you up—as well as no jurisdiction.”

  “I will be careful,” Donovan replied.

  Major Milton sat quietly, before he spoke. “How are you planning to travel?”

  Lucas considered the question for a moment before replying. “I think I should take the train south, then buy a horse in the States. The train will get me there faster. I’d like to get there ahead of him, but I don’t know if that’s possible. Emerson may be a lunatic and a cold-blooded killer, but he’ll be watching his back trail, and I have no intention of walking into another ambush. There’s an old Scottish adage: ‘He that deceives me once, shame fall him; if he deceives me twice, shame fall me.’”

  Major Milton nodded in agreement. “Well worth remembering that one. Sounds to me like you thought this out rather thoroughly, Corporal Donovan,” the major said, “but please remember you’ll have no jurisdiction once you’re across the border. You will have to rely on local law enforcement to bring him in, and if he isn’t wanted in the States, they may not want to help. But keep in mind, you are working on a theory.”

  “Well, sir, if I’m wrong, then either he’ll be brought to justice up here by a fellow constable, or he’ll disappear forever. It’s a calculated risk either way you look at it,” Lucas stated. “As for relying on the local law once I cross the border, it may become a matter of self-defense for me.”

  Major Milton looked over at the corporal very sternly. “Be very careful with that one, Lucas. Very careful. Like you said, this man is a lunatic, but he’s a smart one.” The major paused as if considering another point. “Remember, I haven’t any idea of your plan. But I’m giving you my blessing privately. Before I forget, there’s one more thing. Your brother Jamie left a will. I understand Mister Hendricks over at the bank is the executor of his estate. Before you leave, I suggest you stop over there a
nd check in with him.”

  “Certainly, Major,” the corporal said, feeling satisfied. “Is that all?”

  “That’s it, Lucas. And Godspeed to you.”

  The corporal put on his white pith helmet, which he had exchanged for the fur cap he had worn when out on patrol, and saluted the major.”

  “I’ll be back, sir. You can count on that.”

  The major returned his salute. “Make sure of it, Corporal. Dismissed.”

  Chapter Nine

  “You have my deepest condolences, Lucas,” Hendricks, the banker, said as he took Donovan’s hand in his and patted it. “Here, my boy, please take a seat. I want you to know I always felt your brother was a fine man and an asset to our community. His loss is deeply felt by all of us who knew him.”

  The Mountie took a seat in front of the banker’s large desk. “Yes, sir, thank you. I appreciate that,” Lucas replied as he glanced slowly around the small office. “I’m here for two reasons, sir. First off, Major Milton said something about Jamie having a will. I wasn’t aware he had made one.”

  Mr. Hendricks nodded. He was a heavyset man in his fifties with a balding head and a double chin. He was wearing new spectacles since the last time Donovan had seen him. Apparently, they didn’t fit well since they kept sliding off the bridge of his long, beak-like nose, and he kept having to push them back up and adjust them every few minutes.

  “Yes, Lucas my boy, Jamie did. Came to me almost a year ago. Said he wanted to put his affairs in order in case anything ever happened. He explained to me that he knew the chances you constables take, and should anything ever go wrong, he didn’t want anyone taking anything that might rightfully belong to the Donovan family. At least not his part of it.”

  “I knew Jamie tended to be a more concerned about things like that than I ever was, but I never suspected he worried about it quite so much,” Lucas commented, still surprised that Jamie had never mentioned the will.

  “Guess he didn’t want to burden you with such an unpleasant subject,” Hendricks said, shrugging uncomfortably, which made his glasses slide down again. “At any rate, this morning, I pulled out his documents and reread them.” Hendricks raised an eyebrow.

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” Lucas answered

  The banker smiled. “You don’t have to sir me, son, I work for a living.”

  Donovan chuckled. It had become a common saying in the force among the noncommissioned officers, and it had always made the twins laugh.

  “Shall we begin then? Jamie left you his half of that big ranch your father gave you two boys. You are now the sole owner. He left you his savings in the bank here, which amounts to a little over four hundred pounds, and also that Sharps fifty-caliber rifle of his. Said it was the one thing of his you always admired … and he wanted you to have it.”

  “Our father,” Lucas interjected, “originally won it in a poker game that lasted all night. He pulled a royal flush against a full house. He wasn’t dealing at the time, so the other fellow couldn’t accuse him of cheating. It’s a real beauty. Not the sort of firearm I would choose for this line of work, but, for a hunter, there is nothing better for big game.”

  Hendricks looked back down at the paper on his desk. “Let’s see now, what else? Oh, yes, you also get your father’s pocket watch and a stag-handled knife carved by Charlie Two Knives.”

  Lucas thought back to the day Jamie got the knife. It was his—their—birthday. Jamie got the knife and Lucas received a beautiful bearskin coat. Charlie had spent months making their gifts. The coat was warm and had served him well over the years, but, at the time he had been given it, Lucas thought he’d rather have a knife like his brother received. Reflecting back on the current turn of events, Lucas regretted his petty jealousy.

  Mr. Hendricks shuffled the papers on his desk, and then explained that the remainder of Jamie’s possessions—uniform, harness and tack, the sled and his own dog team—he bequeathed to the North-West Mounted Police to use as they see fit. “So, Lucas, do you have any questions or concerns about your brother’s will?”

  Lucas shook his head and smiled. “No, Mister Hendricks. I reckon Jamie knew what he wanted and what he was doing. It’s fine with me.”

  The banker sat back. “You mentioned that there were two things you wanted to discuss. What is the other?”

  “I’d like to take out two hundred in gold coins, and then leave the rest in an account that I can have access to while I’m on leave,” Lucas explained.

  “Certainly, Lucas. That will not be a problem for us. Two hundred in gold coin, you say?” Hendricks asked.

  Lucas had already estimated his travel expenses. “Yes, sir, and I want to be able draw on the rest, if and when I need it.”

  “Shouldn’t be a problem. Going on a trip, are you?”

  “Yes.”

  Hendricks considered the request for a moment. “You’re going down into the States after the man who killed Jamie, aren’t you?”

  The corporal considered his answer carefully, wondering how the banker had learned about his trip. “Now, Mister Hendricks, let’s just say, I’m taking a leave of absence. I need a break for a time to think about my future. After what happened to Jamie … I need a little time for myself.”

  “I understand, Lucas,” the banker said unconvincingly.

  “And now with Jamie’s money added to mine,” Lucas plunged on, “I’m sure the money in my account will be more than sufficient for anything that comes up. However, in the event that I might need funds beyond what I have in cash, I can put up my part of the ranch as collateral … actually the whole ranch now … can’t I? I’ll sign any papers you need. Anything unexpected happens to me, the bank will own it free and clear. Four hundred acres of prime land with river irrigation and a large ranch house, stable, corrals, and dog houses and runs already built. By doing this, I will have a guaranteed fund should I need it. And the bank will have little if any risk.”

  The banker nodded. “No, under those circumstances we sure wouldn’t, but truthfully, lad, what are you really going to do?”

  “That, sir, with all due respect, will remain my concern, not yours,” Lucas replied with deadly earnest.

  “Maybe not my problem, but it will be a worry of mine, I assure you.”

  “So that settles it,” Lucas said somewhat anxiously.

  The banker reluctantly nodded in agreement. “Swing by in the morning to sign papers and pick up the gold.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

  “Lucas,” Hendricks said as the corporal was about to leave.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Get the bastard for me, too, would you?”

  Lucas smiled back at the banker. “Don’t know what you’re talking about. Like I said, I’m just going to take some time off.”

  Hendricks nodded back. “Of course. But there is one more thing.”

  “What’s that?” the Mountie asked.

  “Do me a favor and take Jamie’s Sharps rifle with you on your … vacation.”

  Chapter Ten

  Lucas Donovan started packing early the next day. He rolled up his scarlet tunic and gray pants, tying them up with his uniform’s leather belt. For this trip he would wear civilian clothes—flannel shirt, denim pants—under his buffalo-skin overcoat. Instead of the white pith helmet, Lucas chose to wear his Stetson. It was a pinched-top, flat-brimmed campaign hat, which was quickly gaining favor among the constables in the force. It was far more practical, and, more importantly, it was far more comfortable.

  Before leaving his barracks, Donovan belted on his holster with the .455-caliber Webley Mk I revolver that he always carried. Earlier that morning, Lucas had picked up his money from the bank and, after signing the papers that would turn over the ranch to the bank should something happen, Mr. Hendricks presented him with a money belt.

  “I’ve used this from time to
time,” the banker told him. “It comes in handy. Take a few coins out for daily use and put them in your pocket. Carry the rest in this belt, under your clothes. Less chance of getting robbed that way.”

  Lucas examined the money belt. With his gold coins inside, it was admittedly a little heavy, but once around his waist and adjusted, the belt seemed more comfortable than he would have expected.

  He had considered his options for traveling south and finally decided to take a dog sled cross-country to the nearest train station to the south. There he would leave the sled and dogs with the stationmaster. He made arrangements for someone from the fort to retrieve the dogs. Red would travel with him to the States. Leaving him behind was simply out of the question. They had been through far too much for too long for Lucas to travel anywhere without his constant four-legged companion.

  After packing his sled, Lucas said his goodbyes, took one last look around the fort, and headed out the gate. The team was well rested, and the dogs stepped out energetically. At the pace they struck, Lucas figured on reaching the train station in about two-to-three days’ time, barring any problems.

  Donovan always enjoyed running his sled with a good team, and this was one of the best he’d ever trained. The team was made up primarily of malamutes and huskies, but there were two wolf-hybrid crossbreeds in the pack. As usual, big Red was at his place in the lead position. They were making good time.

  * * * * *

  It was about three in the afternoon when Lucas crested a high mountainous peak that overlooked the railway tracks below. Even though the trail here was rougher and more dangerous, he had chosen to take this cross-country back route in order to save time.

  Off in the distance, Lucas could see smoke rising from a train engine, but he wasn’t particularly concerned about arriving on time. A train had to follow wherever the railroad’s winding tracks led, whereas, traveling as he was, Lucas could take any number of routes, including several short cuts he knew.