by J. T. Edson
As was the case in every Metis community, numerous large and powerful dogs, used for hauling sledges in winter and carrying packs during the summer months, were allowed to roam at will. Not only could they differentiate between Metis, Indians and white people, possibly assisted by dissimilar body odors, 31 they displayed a marked antipathy towards anybody who did not belong to their owners’ ethnic group. While a grown man who did not show fear could generally prevent them from attacking by shouting ferociously, or drive them off with blows and kicks, neither could be done quietly.
Accepting that there was no chance of either of them passing through the town without coming into contact with at least some of the dogs, Mackintosh had known Potts – being of mixed blood, even though not a Metis, and having grown up around similar animals – was the more likely to be able to cope with them. Even should he be compelled to do no more than raise his voice in threatening manner, he spoke French fluently and in the same fashion as the citizens. So any shouts he was heard to make would be less likely to call attention to there being a stranger in the town than if the Scot was causing the commotion.
Potts had decided against waiting until the population had retired for the night before making his attempt. While a later arrival would reduce the danger of him meeting anybody on his way to the wagon, the disadvantages outweighed the benefits. His clothing and ability to speak French would allow him to pass as a Metis in the darkness, providing he avoided too close contact with whoever he chanced to come across. Of far greater importance, however, the dogs would be less likely to set up too much of a clamor when other people were moving around than they would after everybody had gone to bed. Lastly, if he should be noticed, the fact that he was going towards the general store would tend to allay suspicion. Any visitor to the town might be expected to make for Goulet’s establishment in search of food and entertainment.
Although he was aware that he might require to make a hurried retreat, Potts had decided against attempting to carry out the reconnaissance on horseback. After riding to within about half a mile of the town, he left his fourteen hand, spot-ramped dark gray Appaloosa gelding in Mackintosh’s care and concealed by a clump of bushes. Taking several uncooked buffalo steaks, he had continued on foot.
The latter precaution had proved worthwhile!
Three times as Potts walked between the buildings separating him from his destination, he had come into contact with one or more of the dogs. They had growled a little, slinking forward with bristling fur and stiffly held tails, but making far less noise than would have been the case if he was of pure white or Indian blood. On each occasion, his lack of fear and quietly spoken French, supplemented by the presentation of one or more steaks, had satisfied their curiosity and they had allowed him to pass without further challenge.
On coming into sight of the wagon, Potts halted beneath the spreading branches of a good sized boxelder tree which had escaped being felled so as to provide shade for the store’s patrons. Possessing excellent night vision, he was able to make a careful examination of his surroundings with no more illumination than was given by a new moon and the stars.
Satisfied he was unobserved, the scout was about to advance when he saw a man walking with every appearance of stealth from beyond the corner of the store. Recognizing him as the third of the Riel supporters who had arrived in the roundabout way at nightfall, Potts moved behind the boxelder’s trunk and watched what he was doing. His attitude as he was approaching the vehicle suggested that he did not want his presence to be detected. Nor did the scout need to wonder why he had been selected to carry out what was clearly a clandestine scrutiny of its contents. Unlike the college-educated, almost white le Boeuf brothers, David Hesdin was a backcountry Metis who knew far better than they would how to handle such a risky undertaking.
After glancing around and failing to discover he was under observation, Hesdin set about trying to unfasten the lashings which were holding the flaps at the rear end of the canopy closed. From all appearances, the Lacomb brothers had secured them with knots of some complexity. He became so engrossed in his task that he gave his full attention to it instead of maintaining his vigilance, which proved to be an unfortunate omission. Unlike the watching scout, he failed to notice that a man was coming from between two nearby buildings.
Dressed in much the same fashion as Potts and the would-be investigator of the wagon’s contents, the newcomer was on foot. He had a Henry rifle in his right hand and was carrying a saddle with a bulky bed roll attached to its cantle over his left shoulder. At the sight of Hesdin standing by the wagon, he lowered the latter to the ground carefully so as to avoid making any unnecessary sound and betraying his presence.
Having disposed of his burden, the man moved his rifle into a position of readiness and resumed his advance with great stealth. As he had not called out a challenge, Potts deduced that he intended to capture rather than frighten the intruder away. By the time he had taken his third step, he was sufficiently close for the scout to guess why this course had been selected. He was Raoul Canche and gave his allegiance to Arnaud Cavallier. What was more, his actions implied that he knew to whom the wagon belonged even if he was not aware of what it was carrying.
Even as Potts was reaching the conclusions and trying to decide upon what action he should take, the matter was removed from his control in no uncertain fashion.
There could have been no audible warning of Canche’s arrival on the scene. He was moving with too much care for that. So it must have been instinct, or a belated realization that he was behaving in an incautious manner by devoting all his attention to unfastening the knots, that caused Hesdin to look around. Seeing the approaching figure, he let out a startled and furious oath. He spun on his heel with his right hand grabbing for the revolver thrust through his waistband.
It was an instinctive, but futile, gesture!
Coming to a stop, Canche was already swinging the Henry rifle upwards. He nestled its butt against his right shoulder in a smooth, yet lightning fast motion and his right eye squinted along the twenty-four inches’ length of the octagonal barrel. Before Hesdin could drag the revolver free, his forefinger tightened on the trigger and the cartridge in the chamber was ignited. Working the loading lever with deft rapidity, turning the weapon as he did so, he fired three more shots and sent the lead winging in an arc which encompassed the intruder. Two of the bullets ripped into Hesdin’s chest and a scream of agony burst from him as they spun him around. Colliding with the wagon he had been trying to enter, he bounced from it and crashed dying to the ground.
Although Potts had drawn and cocked his Colt Artillery Model Peacemaker as Canche opened fire on Hesdin, he was aware that his situation was extremely precarious. The moment he left his hiding place, the newcomer would see and, in all probability, recognize him. Even if the latter did not happen, Canche would assume from his flight that he was not one of le Loup-Garou’s sympathizers and take the appropriate action. The distance separating them was more suitable to shooting with a rifle than a revolver. What was more, the shots already fired were certain to bring Goulet and his customers out to investigate.
Sure enough, even as the thought came to the scout, he heard shouts and other commotion from within the building which assured him he had been correct in the assumption. However, watching Canche walking towards the wagon with the rifle held ready to be used again if necessary, he conceded there was only one course left open to him. The boxelder was some fifty yards from the wagon and of sufficient bulk to conceal him as long as he stayed behind it – And nobody came that way!
First to reach the door, Irène Beauville fumbled with its catch in her apprehension and haste. Elbowing her aside roughly, Roland Boniface grasped and wrenched it open. Hauling out the long barreled Colt 1860 Army revolver as quickly as he could manage and wishing, not for the first time, he had the facility which he had heard gun fighters in the United States possessed, he plunged across the threshold. Regardless of having only a knife on her belt, the gir
l followed him into the open air. Making a commotion more suggestive of Gallic excitability than the stoic nature of the Indians, the Lacomb brothers and all but two of the room’s occupants left on their heels. In their eagerness to discover what had happened, none of them gave a thought to the le Boeuf brothers.
‘Hesdin wouldn’t have taken a rifle with him!’ Phillipe hissed, rolling from the table as the last of the local customers were disappearing through the door. His face hurt and his head swam, but he was sufficiently in command of his faculties to appreciate his and his brother’s position. ‘Come on!’
An equally poignant awareness of the peril they could soon be facing acted as a restorative to Leon. Taken swiftly and landing at something less than the full power of which Irène was capable, the kick and his subsequent involuntary sitting on the hard floor had robbed him more of his wind than his wits. What was more, while speaking, his sibling sprang forward and hauled him to his feet. With that accomplished, a shove set him into motion and he scuttled towards the front door, beyond which their horses were tied to the hitching rail.
‘Who is it, Raoul?’ Boniface demanded, identifying the man with the rifle as he started to line the revolver.
‘David Hesdin!’ Canche replied, having taken a similar precaution by covering the couple in spite of expecting that the rush to investigate would be led by allies.
‘David Hesdin!’ Irène spat out, knowing where the sympathies of the man in question lay. Then she threw a worried glance at the wagon and went on, ‘Did he get inside?’
‘No,’ the newcomer stated, returning the Henry rifle to a more relaxed position.
‘But what happened?’ asked the bulky, florid featured Paul Goulet worriedly, being aware that he would be called upon for an explanation if, or – more likely with so many witnesses present and not all of them in favor of Cavallier’s ideas – when, news of the incident reached the Canadian Northwest Mounted Police.
‘I caught him trying to break into Mademoiselle Beauville’s wagon,’ Canche explained truthfully, sharing the storekeeper’s belief that the supporters of Louis Riel who were present would inform the Mounties and being determined to produce an excuse for his actions which would satisfy the neutrals in the crowd. He continued, with less veracity, ‘I called and asked him who said he could, knowing he’s no friend of hers. He turned and when he tried to pull a gun on me, I shot in self-defense.’
‘Why would he be trying to get into the wagon?’ challenged a man known to be an adherent of Riel.
‘To steal, of course!’ Boniface declared, looking defiantly at the speaker and making a slight, but noticeable gesture with the Colt he was still holding. Already the customers who had come from the store were separating into three distinct groups, with the unaligned citizens between the two factions. ‘Why else?’
‘I wondered how those damned almost whites could have managed to trail us!’ Irène snapped, as the Riel supporter lapsed into silence without offering to suggest an alternative reason for Hesdin’s actions. Being aware that the dead man possessed the requisite ability to follow her party’s tracks even though the le Boeuf brothers might not, she swung around and scanned the crowd, going on, ‘They must have been in it with him. Where are they?’
Almost as if wanting to supply the answer to the girl’s question, the sound of horses moving off rapidly arose from the other side of the general store.
‘That’s them and you’re right about them, Irène!’ Boniface yelled, setting off at a run. ‘Come on!’
Not only the girl, the Lacombs, Canche and the other Cavallier adherents started to follow their compatriot as he made for the end of the building. The man who had asked the question did not know what had brought Hesdin and the le Beouf brothers to Nadeauville, but suspected their arrival had had to do with the rumors that le Loup-Garou was planning an uprising which would establish him and not Louis Riel as the undisputed leader of the Metis nation. So, wanting to prevent the brothers from sharing their companion’s fate, he glanced at his colleagues and gave a commanding shake of his head. They were all armed, but he was gambling that Cavallier’s supporters would not be willing to provoke an open confrontation under the circumstances. Putting his judgement to the test, although willing to fight if need be, he led the other Riel adherents on their rivals’ heels towards the front of the store.
Not all of the men who had come from the barroom joined the rush away from the wagon. Those who were neither Cavallier nor Riel supporters considered that discretion was the better part of valor. They knew that they might find themselves compelled to declare for one side or the other if they went after the two factions. Having no wish to be placed in that invidious position, they adopted the wise course of remaining where they were.
Watching the way the two groups set off on hearing the le Boeuf brothers’ hurried departure, Jerry Potts made an accurate guess at each faction’s motives. He also realized that his own situation had been greatly improved and decided to make the most of the changed circumstances.
Lowering the hammer under the control of his thumb, the scout returned the Colt to its holster. Then, after a glance to make sure he was not observed by the men who had remained by the wagon, he stepped away from the concealment offered by the boxelder. Moving in the silent manner for which he was famous, he kept the tree between himself and the neutrals as he retreated in the direction from which he had come. His departure was made easier by the commotion from the front side of the store. In addition to the drumming of the departing horses’ hooves, people were shouting for information from the doors or windows of houses and dogs raised a clamorous barking as they followed their natural instincts to pursue anything which was apparently running away from them.
Only one man saw Potts taking his departure, but made no mention of it. He did not identify the scout, but deduced incorrectly that the figure moving away with such stealth must be another of Riel’s adherents. While realizing that a denouncement would earn the approbation of Cavallier’s supporters, he appreciated it would just as surely arouse the other faction’s ire. So he decided to keep his mouth shut and retain his neutrality.
Making his way back to where Sandy Mackintosh was waiting with the horses, Potts was disappointed. Not only had his bid to search the wagon been circumvented, he felt sure that Irène Beauville and her companions would take so many precautions from now on that there would be no chance of doing it in the future. Nor, being aware that the Riel faction were interested in their doings, would continuing to follow them be as comparatively easy as it had so far. The only consolation he could draw was that, from what had happened at the wagon, it seemed unlikely Cavallier and Riel had forgotten their differences and formed an alliance.
‘What do you think those damned almost whites will do now?’ Irène inquired, as she, Boniface, the Lacomb brothers and Canche sat in the privacy of Goulet’s office after having been unable to do anything to prevent the le Beoufs from making good their escape.
‘Keep running,’ Canche growled. ‘Damn it! If I could only have laid my sights on them, I’d—’
‘It’s as well you didn’t have a chance, or we’d have had a fight on our hands,’ Boniface pointed out, having appreciated the danger and been relieved to find the fleeing brothers had already disappeared from view by the time they had reached the front of the store. ‘De Bruix and his crowd didn’t come after us to help stop them.’
‘The Devil take de Bruix and his crowd!’ Canche snarled. ‘Let them look to themselves when it starts, I say!’
‘We expected you to be here when we arrived, Raoul,’ Irène remarked, the comment having brought her thoughts back to the business upon which they were engaged.
‘My horse went lame and I had to walk in,’ Canche replied. ‘But it’s lucky for you it happened. If I hadn’t come when I did, Hesdin would have been in the wagon and he’d have known what we were up to as soon as he saw the lance and those clothes.’
‘There won’t be a chance for it to happen again!’ the
girl stated, throwing a baleful look at the Lacomb brothers who had insisted that no watch need be kept on the vehicle as doing it would have fallen upon them. ‘Have you and Conrad done your part?’
‘We’ve got the six chiefs and he’ll be taking them to the rendezvous by now,’ Canche confirmed. ‘But I don’t like the idea of the le Beoufs getting away.’
‘Those “half whites”!’ Irène snorted disdainfully. ‘What can they do?’
‘Get somebody to take Hesdin’s place,’ Canche suggested. ‘Or gather enough help to take a look into the wagon without sneaking up at night.’
‘It’s possible,’ Boniface seconded. ‘They’ve got to be stopped!’
‘I’ll get another horse and see to it,’ Canche promised. ‘One of you’d better -come with me, so I can pass you the word if anything should go wrong.’
‘I’ll come!’ Henri Lacomb offered, having no liking for acting as a driver.
‘Good,’ Canche assented. ‘We’ll leave in the morning.’
‘Until then, we’ll have a guard on the wagon,’ Irène declared and this time there was no argument. At that moment, Goulet entered with a tray of drinks. Taking up one of the glasses, she said, ‘Everything’s going the way le Loup-Garou wants, my friends. So let’s drink to the day when the Jan-Dark rides and carries out the prophecy.’
Chapter Nine – Rotten to the Core
‘You’ve got to be on pretty friendly terms with that English son-of-a-bitch and his Dixie peach blossom, haven’t you?’ “Matthew Devlin” challenged, with more than a slight hint of suspicion in his demeanor, as Arnaud Cavallier entered the room he and Vera Gorr-Kauphin were occupying as “Mr. and Mrs. Roxby” at the Palace Hotel in Stokeley.
‘And what if I am?’ le Loup-Garou challenged, making no attempt to conceal his resentment over being questioned in such a fashion.