The Third Riel Conspiracy (15 page)

“We have spoken to some who hold with that conviction,” said Durrant.

“I am sure that you have. There is a second Riel conspiracy. One that is far more dangerous, and deadly. There is a plan among some in Regina—that is what they call themselves, the Regina Group—not to free Riel but instead to kill him before he can ever stand trial. Reuben Wake was one of the leaders of these men.”

SEVENTEEN

IT WAS DARK WHEN THE
three friends left Assistant Commissioner Crozier's tent. They didn't speak as they walked but instead watched about them in the camp. The news of the dual conspiracies—one to free and one to kill Riel—had set them all on edge. Crozier's last words to the men before they left had been, “You have very little time.”

Durrant knew that in the coming days much of the field force would decamp for Fort Pitt, two hundred miles west on the Saskatchewan River. There they would muster for the fight with Big Bear's Cree. Riel and the rest of the prisoners would be sent to Regina, there to await trial and what other mishaps of fate awaited them. Terrance La Biche would go, too. There was more to Crozier's warning than simple logistics.

When they were back at their fire, Durrant spoke first. “I suppose it goes without saying that Sub-Inspector Dickenson will be no help to us. We'll need to move quickly in the morning to secure the prisoner, retrieve the murder weapon, and locate the men who were charged with burying the body of Mr. Wake. There are a few men in the camp from my time at Fort Walsh, including Tommy Provost. I will recruit them to serve as guards for La Biche. I trust them and know I can count on them.”

“I will take it upon myself to locate the murder weapon,” said Garnet.

“I suppose that leaves with me the task of discussing the foul deed of the disposal of Mr. Wake,” Saul concluded.

“I shall aid you in your discussions, Saul,” said Durrant. “I don't expect that the ruffians who committed this undertaking will be forthcoming about it. Some persuasion may be needed. We had all best watch our backs. No doubt the conspirators who have it in for Riel will be aware of our investigation. They may move to put a stop to it.”

The three men lay curled inside blankets on the bare ground, looking at the fire. Durrant watched as his comrades drifted off to sleep. It felt good to have these men at his side. There was no way to tell what the path ahead would hold for them, but at that moment Durrant Wallace felt that together they could bear any weight and weather any storm.

ON THE MORNING
of May 18, Durrant located Terrance La Biche and approached the young man who was guarding him. “These men will be taking over the security of Mr. La Biche.” Behind Durrant stood Tommy Provost and two colleagues dressed in uniform. “You're relieved of your duty, son. Go find yourself some breakfast.”

When the militiaman had left, Durrant climbed into the wagon. La Biche was shivering under his blanket. Durrant had one of the constables retrieve another blanket and gather wood for a fire. He sat down next to the prisoner and said, “I've been placed in charge of the investigation into the death of Reuben Wake, Mr. La Biche.” The Métis man just stared at him. “I would like to ask you some questions.”

The constable returned with a heavy Hudson's Bay blanket. “I'll have a fire going in a moment, Sergeant.”

Durrant continued. “When we spoke on the thirteenth of May, you were beginning to tell me more of the circumstances that led to your arrest. I want you to tell me about the conspiracy to free Louis Riel.”

When the fire had been kindled, Durrant helped La Biche out of the wagon and they huddled together in the morning chill. One of the Mounted Police brought the man a breakfast of porridge and coffee. “I don't know much of the details. It's just guessing.” La Biche spoke between bites. “I believe this is about Sun River, where Riel taught school. In the Montana territory. It's because of what happened there. Wake travelled there with Dumont. He signed on to care for the horses. Remember, Dumont had selected a young man from St. Laurent to tend to the horses, but when the time came to depart, the lad could not be found, so Dumont was in a bit of a bad way. Reuben Wake had been coming to Batoche for several years at that point, ferrying supplies and stock. He had made like a friend. He happened to be in the town that very morning, and presented himself to Dumont. In the confusion to get on the trail, Dumont agreed.”

“Wake went to Sun River to try and scuttle the effort, to undermine it,” confirmed Durrant.

“I can't believe that,” said Provost.

“It's true.” La Biche finished his breakfast and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

“What happened in Sun River that turned the tide of events against Reuben Wake?”

“The only thing I'm sure of is that when Dumont returned with Riel, Wake wasn't with them. We hoped that he was dead, but then he turned up at Fish Creek. That's when I saw him. I simply couldn't believe my own eyes!”

“Had Dumont or one of the other men made it clear what Wake's intent had been?”

“By the time Dumont returned with Riel, the story of Wake's treason had become well known, but nobody spoke of what became of him. We took it to mean that what was done was done. But it wasn't—not for Wake. And not for me. The man deceived us and betrayed Riel, and it was my aim to make the man pay. But he was shot. I didn't have access to the man's Colt. I was going to use the butcher's hatchet I had pilfered.”

“While I am inclined to believe you, I'm afraid I'm not the final arbitrator of this matter. The news of Mr. Wake's death has reached the ears of my superiors in the North West Mounted Police, and they will not release you until such time as we have another man in irons. There is the matter of your disappearance from the scullery at the very time when Wake was killed. I would like to know where you were.”

“I told you, I was in the lavatory.”

“What more do you know of this conspiracy to free Riel?”

“Believe me or not, Sergeant, but I am in fact just a simple farmer. I don't travel in circles that would allow me to plan a jailbreak. I don't have the thinking for such a thing.”

“Who does?”

“You're asking me? I have no idea. I suppose if you were to spirit a man like Riel out of the country, you'd need two things: money and influence. I'd start looking for someone who has both. Someone who can convince a lot of people to work together, and do it in secret.”

Two such men immediately came to Durrant's mind. “I've asked Staff Sergeant Provost here to be in charge of your security,” he told La Biche, and Provost smiled and nodded. “I trust this man. He'll see to it that you are safe until we settle this matter. In the meantime, I want you to think about what I've asked you. If there is anything else you know, tell Mr. Provost and he'll fetch me, and we'll talk again.”

Durrant started to push himself up but La Biche put a hand on his arm. For a moment Durrant tensed, but when he saw the man's eyes, he relaxed. “What is it?” he asked.

“Well, it's just that by all accounts Reuben Wake was a terrible man. He deserved to die. I suppose what I'm wondering is, why are you so eager to find his killer?”

Durrant looked at Provost and the two other constables standing before him. He and his friends had considered that question a great deal over the course of the last week. “I have a job to do, Mr. La Biche. It doesn't matter to me if Wake was a good man or a bad one. He was murdered. Maintaining the rule of law is the responsibility of every Mounted Police officer in this force. I aim to uphold it.”

Durrant stood up and Provost pulled him aside. “Nice speech. Do you really believe all of that?”

“For the most part, Tommy. Don't you?”

“Sure I do. Sometimes things get complicated. It ain't like it was in '74 when we rode west. Everything is so political now.”

“Regardless, we have a job to do. There is justice to be delivered.”

SAUL ARMATAGE AND
Durrant Wallace sat with their backs to the zareba wall. Jacques Lambert was huddled between them, a buffalo skin pulled around his shoulders. On the far side of a cluster of wagons and horses they could plainly see a group of militiamen preparing their kits to march to Fort Pitt.

“Do you recognize any of those men?” asked Durrant.

Lambert shook his head. “They all look alike in their uniforms.”

“What about those men there?” Saul pointed to a cluster of men standing by a fire. Again the Métis man shook his head. “Try to remember the morning when you saw Reuben Wake taken away.”

“They wore beards, I recall, but then, many do.” Lambert looked at Durrant, who had a closely trimmed beard, then at Saul, who had recently shaved off his rough whiskers but left a long pencil moustache. “There,” he said after another moment. “He was one of them.”

“Which one?” asked Durrant.

“The man with the rifle slung over his shoulder. That's one of them for sure.”

“He was one of the men who was with Dickenson yesterday,” said Durrant. He instructed Saul to take Lambert back to the infirmary, where he would continue to be watched over.

“Where are you going?” the doctor asked.

“To see if I can't press this lad for some information.”

“Be careful,” implored Saul.

“When am I not?” Durrant tracked the man Lambert had identified through the camp, watching to see that he himself was not being followed. When the man entered one of the crudely fashioned outhouses, Durrant positioned himself by the door. He found a long pole, one that had likely been cut to use for a tent, and wedged it under the knotted handle of the privy. “I've locked you in, Private.”

“Who's there?”

“It's Sergeant Durrant Wallace. I'm in charge of the investigation into the death of Reuben Wake. We met the other day at Xavier's Store.”

“Open the goddamned door.”

“I have a couple of questions for you. Answer and I'll let you out.”

“I'll blow a hole in the door before I answer you.”

“Your Winchester is too long. You don't have enough room to get a clear shot. I noticed you don't have your Enfield with you.”

“You're a son of a bitch, Wallace.”

“Be careful how you speak of my mother, Private. It would be embarrassing to have to call for help in your position. Who ordered you to throw Reuben Wake into the Saskatchewan River?”

“Dickenson. Who the hell do you think?”

“Why?”

“Maybe we was just too lazy to bury the man. I don't know.”

“That would not surprise me, Private, but I think there's more to it than indolence.”

“Well, then, you tell me if you're so goddamned smart.”

“I think you were hiding something. Maybe whoever killed Wake didn't want his body to be examined.”

“That half-blood La Biche killed him. He had the weapon on him.”

“Did Dickenson order the body thrown in the river so nobody would see that the first shot was a misfire?”

“I don't know what you're talking about. Wasn't no misfire. That half-breed shot him in the temple, plain and simple.”

Durrant wasn't learning anything he didn't already know. He changed direction in his questioning. “Where's the Colt?” There was no sound from the privy. “You know, it's possible that a man could die of asphyxiation breathing in the methane produced by one of these lavatories.”

“Dickenson has it.”

“And where is he?”

“He's long gone,” said the man, with a laugh.

Durrant put his face to the planks. “Where did he go?”

“To hell, just like you, Wallace.”

“We'll see. Which way did he go?”

“He went to Fort Pitt. He's scouting for Major Boulton.”

“If I let you out, are you going to be polite?” The man in the privy didn't say anything. “Well, I suppose you'll have to wait for the next man to come to drop his drawers.”

“Blue Jesus, Wallace, I can't breathe in here!”

Durrant knocked the stick from the door. The man burst out of the privy, his Winchester in hand, looking about him wildly for a sign of his foe. Durrant had his Enfield out and pressed to the man's temple before he could turn. “I bid you remember, sir, that we are all on the same side.”

“You don't have the faintest notion of who is on what side.”

“You walk away. If I ever see you or your friends again, I'll arrest you on the spot. You so much as raise a weapon in the direction of me or any of my friends, I'll cut you down. Are we clear?”

The man laughed. “You had better not find yourself in Regina, Wallace.”

“Given that remark, I would say you can count on it. Now shoulder that weapon, report to your company, and follow your orders.” Durrant lowered his pistol. He became aware that there were others now observing the interaction.

“You're a dead man, Wallace.”

“Won't be the first time.”

DURRANT WALKED BACK
toward the spot where Saul and Garnet had agreed to rendezvous at lunchtime. Durrant told them about Dickenson's flight for Fort Pitt. “You think he's marching on Middleton's orders?” asked Garnet.

“Maybe he is, maybe he isn't. But if we want that pistol, we'll need to catch up to him.”

“Most of the camp will be struck by nightfall, and we'll be making for Pitt in the morning,” said Saul.

“I'll have to ride ahead and see what can be done to catch up with this man.” Durrant turned to Garnet. “What did you learn this morning?”

“I've spoken with several of my fellows in the Surveyors Intelligence Corps. Much of the citizenry has been split on the issue of Riel. Free him or hang him. There are those among them who believe that should Riel go to trial, it will provide some political gain for the Liberals.”