He could hear men’s voices. Somewhere on the prairie there was a flash of lightning; a crack of thunder followed soon after. Heavy drops of rain began to fall, their sound quickly drowning out the voices. Durrant strained to hear the quiet talk somewhere close by. He couldn’t tell if the voices were coming from within the stable or somewhere else on the street. He slowly looked around the corner to see if he could locate the men, and as he did the back door of the stable opened, just ten feet away. Jasper Dire, wearing a broad-brimmed hat, emerged and peered up and down the lane. Durrant was able to withdraw from view just in time to avoid detection.
Dire completed his scan and then stepped into the street. Half a dozen other men followed; Durrant recognized none of them. Each one had a hat pulled down low over his face, and the rain created a semi-translucent curtain through which little of each man’s visage could be seen. The door was pushed shut after the final man stepped out, and the group wordlessly broke up. Durrant melted back into the shadows of the narrow passage between the mercantile and the stable. He watched as the clouded figure of Jasper Dire started down the street. A hand fell on Durrant’s shoulder from behind.
Panicked, he wheeled and with his powerful left hand slammed the light body into the stable wall. It was Charlene, dressed in her disguise; her eyes registered something between amusement and terror.
“Blue Jesus . . .” muttered Durrant.
“Lovely to see you too, Durrant.”
Durrant looked around the corner. The six men who had been in the stable were gone. “Well, now we’ve done it. I’ve lost track of them.”
“It’s all right—” Charlene began.
“Is it now?”
Charlene straightened and regarded him. “Yes, it is.”
“And how might that be?”
“Because I know what they are up to, and what they have planned.”
THEY SAT IN Garnet Moberly’s room while Mr. Jimmy served them hot tea and cakes. Outside, the storm raged. Charlene had changed from her stableboy disguise into her blue travelling dress. She had let down her hair, and it fell in cascades around her face. She sipped her tea.
“I know it was all rather impulsive and, I suppose, a little hot-headed of me,” Charlene said, “but after our row, I simply decided that there were places Charlie could go that the rest of us could not. A mute boy can find his way into places that a grown woman or three grown men cannot. I hurriedly got myself into my disguise and slipped out the rear of our accommodations. I first went to the newspaper office of Mr. Block, but that was too obvious. I also visited the Protestant church, but that too was a dead end. With Mr. Wake dead, I wondered who might be minding his business. We also now know that Wake’s relative Percy is deceased. With both men out of the picture, it stood to reason that the place would be empty until the courts could arrange for its sale.
“When I arrived there was no one about, so I let myself in through one of the windows. I used some crates in the alley to hoist myself up. I nearly broke my neck trying to get down, but managed to land in a large pile of mouldering hay. The stable was completely empty of horses—probably they were taken off to be sold. I went about searching the place, but there was nothing to find. Either Wake had disposed of any written secrets before he joined up with Middleton or someone else had cleared them out. It was as I was preparing to leave that men suddenly appeared in the room.”
“Suddenly appeared?” asked Saul.
“Yes, like vapour. I’ve never heard men move about as quietly as they did. Six of them, and our man Jasper Dire among them but by no means the leader.”
“Did you recognize any of them?” asked Durrant.
“They struck no match, so it’s hard to say. The only light was from the street lamps outside. I secreted myself in one of the stalls and listened as they whispered their plans. They aim to ensure that Riel lives to testify at trial, and they are willing to kill every member of the Regina Group if that’s what it takes.”
THIRTY-THREE
SETTING THE TRAP
THE ROOM WAS SILENT AS Charlene revealed her news. Finally Durrant broke the hush. “Dire killed Reuben Wake. I should have seen it from the start. He was at La Jolie Prairie, and his presence behind the field force’s lines would not have aroused suspicion of any kind. He could easily have fired the shot that wounded Wake, and then, when the bullet missed its mark, lay in wait for him on the final day of the battle.”
“It would have been a simple matter for Dire to seek out the man’s own pistol and use it to dispatch him,” said Garnet.
“I’ll need to examine his hand, but I suspect any burns left two months ago will have healed,” said Saul.
“There were black marks on his hands when I met him on the road the day before he left for Fort Pitt, or wherever he was off to,” said Durrant. “I was led to believe that they were caused by his work staining carriages, but, as I have since learned, Mr. Dire pushes paper at his carriage shop.”
“Black walnuts.” All three men turned to look at Charlene. She held her cup close to her lips, her eyes shining in the dark room.
“Pardon me?” asked Saul.
“Yes, of course—” Garnet snapped his fingers.
“Excuse me, Garnet, but do you know what she is talking about?”
“I should have figured it. He uses black-walnut dye in his hair. The tannins provide an excellent dye, while the mordant found in the husk makes the dye semi-permanent.”
“That’s right,” said Charlene. “It also stained his hands.”
“In Sun River, we discovered that a ginger-haired man had been seen about town around the time of Riel’s return. When he returned from Sun River last year, he would have changed his appearance. If word got out that he had been south of the Medicine Line while Dumont was luring Riel back to the territories, he would not have been placed at the scene.”
“He killed Percy Wake too, and buried him on that hillside,” said Charlene.
“So we know what this Shadow Conspiracy is up to but aren’t much closer to knowing their motivation,” Saul added.
“I may be able to fill in some of the gaps there,” said Durrant.
“Do tell,” said Garnet, leaning forward in his chair.
“Politics, with a healthy dose of religion and a fair apportionment of greed, just to make things more interesting. Dire is a Catholic Liberal. He is the son of the patriarch of the Box D Ranch, a vast holding of land that was deeded to his family in 1878. It was one of the first such parcels granted in the Saskatchewan Territory. Dire Sr. came west overland from Sarnia and held the deed to most of the country east of the Cypress Hills. He didn’t do much with it until he knew the railway would provide an opportunity to move his cattle east.”
“1878 . . . Sarnia . . .” Saul mused.
“Yes, that’s right. The Dire family backed Prime Minister Alexander Mackenzie and helped ensure his election in 1873. When the family decided to strike out for the west, they were handsomely rewarded. Ironically, it was Macdonald who made the venture profitable by returning to power in ’78 and resuming his drive to connect the country with the railway.
“The aim of the Shadow Conspiracy must be to ensure that the trial of Louis Riel does the maximum damage to Macdonald’s Conservatives, and their supporters in English, Protestant Ontario. We know that the Regina Group wants to kill Riel to save Macdonald the double embarrassment of both the trial and the execution that will almost certainly follow. If Riel is killed before he can stand trial, the government doesn’t have to be the executioner. We also know that Riel’s supporters want to free him before he hangs. This Shadow Conspiracy hopes only to keep Riel alive long enough to embarrass Macdonald, so that Edward Blake might win the next election and secure power for the Liberals again.”
“It’s quite the audacious plan,” conceded Garnet.
“Do we ride over to Dire’s home and arrest him now?” asked Saul.
“We wait. There is so much more to this than the simple murder of Reuben Wake an
d his kin.”
Charlene added, “In overhearing the plans, we’ve also learned what the Regina Group aims to do. When Riel is moved to the courthouse, they plan on striking.”
“But the Mounted Police will use a decoy,” said Garnet.
“Of course they will, but the Regina Group has infiltrated the North West Mounted Police, I’m sorry to say. Our Sub-Inspector Dickenson is yet unaccounted for, and my bet is that others within the force are sympathetic to their aims. No, the Regina men will know about the decoy, and they will move on Riel.”
“And at the same time, the Shadow Conspiracy will move on them,” said Charlene.
“Someone associated with the force was with Dire in Sun River last year,” Durrant added. “We still don’t know who that is.”
“All the while good Father Lefèbvre will be plotting to free Riel and spirit him back to Montana,” said Garnet.
“If we simply arrest Dire, the Shadow Conspiracy will replace him, and we will be no closer to catching the rest of his lot. We have no actual evidence of any of this. Whispers overheard in the night won’t stand up in court. I don’t want to simply stop this from happening. I want to arrest those responsible for the death of at least two men, and the conspirators of these various plots. To do that, we need to trap them.”
“Trap who, Durrant?” asked Garnet.
“Trap them all.”
ASSISTANT COMMISSIONER LEIF Crozier sat silently behind a desk at the NWMP headquarters. Beyond his window, the parade ground was steaming as the morning sun warmed the rain-soaked earth. He tapped his fingers on the table, considering all he had just been told.
“It’s a risk,” he finally said.
“Yes, sir.” For the first time in more than a year, Durrant was dressed in his scarlet serge, three golden chevrons on his sleeve above the wrist, his gleaming white helmet under his left arm.
“You understand what’s at stake if you fail?”
“Yes, sir.”
“There’s a lot on the line.” Crozier stood and straightened his uniform before turning to the window. Durrant remained motionless. “We can’t take any risk with the prisoner.”
“I believe to do nothing would put him at additional risk, sir.”
“Yes, I believe you are right.” Crozier rose up on his toes and then rocked backwards on his heels. “Very well, Sergeant. I will speak to the magistrate, and to the defence. You know they’ve brought in a police officer all the way from Hamilton to handle the evidence for the prosecution? Bloody insult to the force, if you ask me.” Durrant nodded his agreement. “There is a lot more on the line if this trap of yours fails. There are lives on the line, and your future with the North West Mounted Police too. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir, it is.”
“Very well. Pick your team, report to me, and let’s catch these conspirators. All of them. And no newspapers. One way or the other, this must remain utterly secret.”
“ALL RIGHT.” DURRANT faced his three friends. “You each know what must be done. This is the last moment where we might turn back. After this, we’re committed, and we will have to follow through.” They were sitting in Garnet’s room. They had taken their meal there, prepared by Mr. Jimmy, to ensure secrecy. “I know I am asking a great deal of each of you. You all know I consider you my very best friends and colleagues at arms.”
Garnet looked at the others. He picked up a small glass of sherry and raised it. “For the Dominion!” he said, beaming.
“For the Dominion and for Riel.” Durrant raised his cup of tea.
SAUL ARMATAGE FOUND his way to the Roman Catholic church, its whitewashed exterior gleaming in the moonlit night. He knew he would find who he was looking for in the rectory.
The door swung open silently. He closed it behind him, shifting his medical bag to his left hand as he did. He heard a voice at the front of the sanctuary. “Father Lefèbvre, it’s Doctor Armatage.” Saul still could not see the man. “I’ve come to check on Mr. Lambert. I wish to check to see if his wounds are healing. I am worried about infection.”
There was a long silence in the dark sanctuary. The priest stepped out into the gloom from behind the pulpit. “How do you know that Lambert is here?” he asked, closing the distance.
“I saw him here two days ago. I heard that he has been called as a witness. I was passing by on the street and saw him come into the church. He looked a little grey. This was the first opportunity I have had—”
The priest raised his hand. He was now standing before the doctor. He peered behind him. “Your friend, the policeman. He is not here?”
“He has been reassigned to Fort Calgary.”
“The Red Coats will let La Biche stand trial?”
“I don’t know.” Saul shook his head convincingly.
“And Riel—?”
“I understand his trial is to begin tomorrow.”
“Have you seen him?”
“No. I have not yet.” The priest hung his head. His hands were folded before him as if in prayer. “May I see Lambert?”
“Yes, certainly.” Lefèbvre turned and walked toward the front of the church. Saul followed. Soon they had passed through the portico and were in the rectory of the building.
“Where is the priest who normally attends Mass in this location?” asked Saul.
“He is in Winnipeg. I asked to be moved here from the North so I could attend the trial of Riel. He will need our prayers.” They stopped in front of a door near the back of the rectory and the father knocked. A voice responded, and soon the door opened. Lefèbvre spoke. “Doctor Armatage has come to call. He wishes to ensure your wounds are healing.”
“They are fine, merci.”
“May I have a look?” asked Saul over the priest’s shoulder.
“Very well.” Lambert stepped from the room and closed the door. The three of them sat down at a table and chairs in the middle of the room. Lambert put his arms, palms up, on the table for Saul to examine.
“They appear to be healing well,” said the doctor. “Sometimes with this sort of . . . self-inflicted wound, there can be trouble. You’re doing well.”
Saul stood and Lefèbvre placed his hand on the doctor’s arm. “You said you hadn’t seen Riel, not yet . . .”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“But you will see him?”
“I have been asked to see him tomorrow morning before the trial to ensure that he is physically up to the rigors.”
“I would like for you to pass on my blessing. Are you meeting at the courthouse?”
“Oh, no. For the man’s safety, he’s not being moved there.” Saul made as if to rearrange items in his bag.
“Ah, yes, of course . . . those rumours of a conspiracy to cause him some harm.”
“That’s right. I’ll be seeing him at the police barracks, in the infirmary, at nine in the morning.”
“Doctor?”
Saul turned to Lefèbvre.
“Please tell Riel when you see him that soon his soul shall be free.”
GARNET MOBERLY WALKED straight into the offices of The Regina Examiner. There were half a dozen men standing around the layout table in the middle of the small press room. Several smoked pipes, and a haze of tobacco smoke drifted like clouds above them. “Office is closed,” one of them said, and they all returned to examining the front page for the following day’s paper.
“Very good, then. I’ve got a news tip,” said Garnet.
The same man looked up. “We’re open at nine in the morning. The paper’s put to bed.”
“Very well,” said Garnet again. “I suppose it can wait until tomorrow. Riel’s trial is not to start until latter in the morning.”
“Did you say it was about Riel’s trial?” Stanley Block stood up behind his colleagues.
“Indeed, sir.”
“Come in,” Block said.
Garnet stepped toward the cluster of newspapermen. Block extended his hand and Garnet shook it. “Garnet Moberly, sir. I was at Batoc
he. I was with Wheeler’s Survey Corps.”
Block led Garnet to his office. It was panelled in rich wood and lined with bookshelves. There was an ornate lamp on his broad desk, which he lit when they entered. Block sat down in his chair and motioned for Garnet to sit opposite his desk.
“Now, what news?”
“Well, sir, it would seem that there is a plan afoot to free Riel.”
“What of it? There’ve been rumours of this since before he was captured.”
“As fate would have it, I have overheard that tomorrow at ten the Red Coats will be moving Riel in secret. I have come to learn that he will be examined by a medical doctor before the trial to ensure that he is fit to take the stand. The Red Coats will be moving him from his cell to a doctor’s examining room at their barracks at nine. I believe that a gang of men will try to free him then.”
“And how did you come by this information?”
“I’d rather not say—”
“But you must, sir.”
“The doctor is a friend. I’m afraid that he sympathizes with Riel. The doctor has fallen under this madman’s spell,” Garnet moved his hands before him as if conjuring magic, “and has told that he won’t resist should men try to free Riel. I suspect that these men will try to spirit Riel back to Montana by the fastest road possible.”
“How can I know it’s the truth?”
“Well, you might take my word as a Scot.”
“I’m not sure that’s going to be good enough, Mr.—”
“Moberly. In addition to being a proud Scot, I’m also an ardent supporter of our dear prime minister. John A. could use a break. If Riel takes the stand and things go as expected—” Garnet put his hands around his own neck and made an exaggerated choking motion.
The Third Riel Conspiracy Page 21