by J. T. Edson
‘Not when there’s a chance for him to fleece suck– !’ Belle commenced in bitter tones, then made a very obvious and hurried correct to her comment. ‘To play cards.’
‘Especially with so pretty a girl as Calamity Jane,’ Cavallier supplemented.
‘Her?’ the Rebel Spy snorted. ‘Huh! All she is to him is another suck…player, no matter what she might think. He needs somebody like me, not a common, uncouth slut like her as his assist – woman.’
‘Have you and he been together for long, “Lavinia”?’ Cavallier asked, using the only name by which the Englishman had referred to his “mistress”. ‘I hope you don’t mind me being so informal, but he didn’t introduce us properly.’
‘He wouldn’t, the damned British snob!’ Belle declared, with well simulated asperity. ‘Huh! For all his fine talk about his aunt, the Dowager Duchess of Brockley – who I bet doesn’t even exist – his family can’t be all that important, or he’d never have had to leave England just because he was accused of cheating at cards.’
‘And was he?’ Cavallier inquired, being eager to learn more about the Kid.
‘He says he wasn’t?’ the Rebel Spy replied, in a way which implied she had doubts over his veracity. Then she continued to elaborate upon her grievance with regards to the disrespect fill way he had treated her. ‘Why we Saltyres of Cottonbriar Manor, Louisiana, wouldn’t have allowed it to happen to any of our kin before the god-damned Yankees ruined us. And we were just as well-bred and even more wealthy than his family, I bet. Why if it hadn’t been for all our menfolk going and being killed in the War and the carpetbaggers taking our home from us defenseless women, I wouldn’t have had to do the things I’ve had to do. And I for sure wouldn’t have been put in pris – Oh Lord, what I just said!’
‘I’m certain you were innocent and unjustly treated,’ Cavallier lied, convinced by Belle’s superlative acting that she had brought her words to a halt and made the alarmed ejaculation because of a belated realization that she was telling him far more than was advisable.
‘Why I for sure was!’ the girl declared, contriving to give the impression that she was speaking anything but the truth. ‘I didn’t steal that prissy lil Nob Hill girl’s necklace. But that mean old judge in San Francisco was a damned Yankee and wouldn’t believe me when I told him somebody must have put it in me reticule when I wasn’t looking.’
‘The dirty dog!’ Cavallier commiserated with passable sounding sympathy.
‘He surely was!’ Belle agreed. ‘Why he sent me to prison for six months and it’s terrible how they treat you-all there!’ Her right hand fluttered in an angry gesture towards the togue cap. ‘Do you know, they cut off my lovely hair as short as a boy’s when I first went in. Then, just because I said something one of the wardresses didn’t like the day before I was due to come out, she had it done again. That’s why I’m having to wear this unbecoming thing.’
‘You make it becoming,’ Cavallier consoled. ‘And your hair will grow again to be just as lovely. How long have you been out?’
‘Only a couple of weeks or so,’ Belle replied, deciding her hair was sufficiently long to have grown in that time. ‘I met up with the Kid the next day and he asked me to team up with him.’
‘Doing what – Or is that an indelicate question?’
‘Nothing wrong.’
‘I’m sure it isn’t,’ le Loup-Garou said reassuringly as a defensive note returned to the girl’s voice. ‘But I heard there was some trouble at Fort Connel a few days ago.’
‘Wasn’t there just?’ Belle confirmed. ‘Some tinhorn gambler accused Rem of cheating at a poker game.’
‘Was he?’ Cavallier inquired.
‘Nobody could prove he was,’ Belle replied evasively. ‘But I don’t think I should be talking like this. Rem wouldn’t take kind to it.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Cavallier said soothingly, laying his left hand on the girl’s right arm and feeling the hard firmness of its bicep. He had received a similar answer when discussing the cause of the knife fight with the sergeant in the Fair Lady Saloon. ‘You can trust me not to mention anything you might say about him.’ Going by what he had just heard and from past experience, le Loup-Garou decided that “Lavinia Saltyre” was one of those formerly wealthy Southrons who had been driven to a life of crime as an aftermath of the War Between the States. His instincts suggested she was hard, thoroughly dishonest and not overburdened with intelligence. The latter, which had been implied by the indiscreet comments she had allowed to slip out, was a quality he could turn to his advantage. He felt sure that, while she probably did not know all, she could at least satisfy his curiosity to a great extent about the Remittance Kid if she was handled correctly.
‘My brother and I came upon a dead buffalo on our way here,’ Phillipe le Boeuf said loudly and in an accusatory tone, looking at Irène Beauville and Roland Boniface, although he clearly intended that his words would be heard by everybody who was in the barroom section of Paul Goulet’s general store. ‘At first, as so little of the meat had been taken, we thought it must have been shot in passing by white so-called sportsmen.’
Tall and slender, with a distinct family resemblance in their good looking young faces, the two men who had just arrived at what was the business and social center of the small town of Nadeauville were dressed in the same general fashion as the other male occupants. However, their faces were less dark skinned than the bois brule – scorched wood – pigment of the Metis who were the town’s sole residents and showed even less trace of Indian blood. Their hands were soft, suggesting they had done little manual work and, while travel stained, their clothing showed less signs of hard wear.
‘And who told you it wasn’t?’ the girl inquired, her voice redolent of contempt, lounging with the slothful elegance as a great cat on a chair by the table in the center of the room.
‘How do you mean, who told us?’ Leon le Boeuf demanded indignantly. ‘We– !’
‘I don’t doubt that you both know all about the ways of white men, “so-called sportsmen” or otherwise,’ Irène interrupted, before the young man could complete the explanation that he and his elder brother had drawn their conclusion without requiring assistance. ‘But, from all accounts, you know much less about hunting.’
Having returned to the small wagon they were using to carry their belongings which had been left in the charge of its driver – Jacques Lacomb’s slightly younger and almost identical twin brother, Henri – while hunting, the girl had cleaned and placed the lance inside, concealing it beneath some of the load. Then they had resumed their interrupted journey. The delay had prevented them from reaching Nadeauville as soon as they had anticipated. Although they had not expected to arrive that day, they had been compelled to make camp further away than would have been the case if they had kept moving instead of taking the time required for her to test her ability.
Spending a night without a roof over their heads was no novelty even for Irène. She and her three companions had done so at the end of each day’s journey since they had set out to join Arnaud Cavallier at the pre-arranged rendezvous on the United States’ side of the international border, and often enough in the past.
On reaching Nadeauville late on the afternoon of the day after the hunt, the party had gone straight to Goulet’s store. They had been informed that the messenger who was to have met them had not arrived and they had made arrangements to stay until he came. There was no difficulty in doing this, due to their known association with Cavallier. While unaware of the exact nature of the scheme upon which they were engaged, Goulet was one of le Loup-Garou’s staunchest supporters and had offered hospitality without inquiring into their business. Being cognizant of the fact that his future was dependent upon Cavallier’s continued good will, he had considered that to display curiosity would be inadvisable; but their arrival had aroused considerable interest elsewhere.
Visitors to the town, a somewhat grandiloquent title for a cluster of around a hundred one-story wooden bu
ildings gathered for company and mutual protection, were not so frequent that any newcomers would be overlooked as potential bearers of news. When it had become apparent that the girl and her companions intended to stay at least overnight, there had been no shortage of helpers to unhitch the wagon’s team and take care of the saddle horses, but the ends of the canopy were secured to prevent anybody from seeing what was inside the vehicle. The magnificent palomino gelding, which was to be used by Irène when playing her part in Cavallier’s scheme – and which, reckless as she was, she had not been so irresponsible as to endanger by riding when ‘running’ the buffalo – had been praised for its excellence without its purpose being disclosed.
The messenger still had not put in an appearance by nightfall, but the girl’s party had plenty of company. There was considerable speculation over whether the vague rumors about Cavallier’s aspirations had any foundation. Practically the whole of the male members of the population had gathered at the store after the evening meal in the hope of being enlightened, but little information had been divulged. Instead, they had been treated to nothing more informative than a harangue upon the principle grievances of their people; such as laws and impositions produced by the Government in far off Ottawa and the ever growing threat of white settlers in large numbers flooding into what should be regarded as the Metis’ domain.
All of the talking had been done by Irène and Boniface, an arrangement with which the unsociable Lacomb brothers had been in full agreement. They had been too wise to satisfy their audience’s curiosity over their presence with the truth. Everybody in Nadeauville was a Metis, but not all of them supported Cavallier. More important, few of those who were in favor of him would have condoned the means by which he intended to implement his scheme. Being aware of the protests against such waste which had been aroused as the effects of over-hunting of the herds – in which the Metis and Indians as well as the white men had participated, no matter how much latter day ethnic apologists might try to claim otherwise – had become increasingly apparent, neither had had any intention of referring to the killing of the buffalo.
From the moment Irène had seen the le Boeuf brothers enter, she had expected them to be a source of dissension. She had also wondered if they had come to Nadeauville for that purpose, being aware they were anything but in sympathy with le Loup-Garou’s plans for the future. Although Louis Riel Jnr.’s efforts to carry on his father’s attempts to redress the Metis’ grievances had failed and he was still exiled in the United States, they belonged to the faction who regarded him rather than Cavallier as the most suitable candidate to lead their people to independence.
As soon as it had become apparent that the brothers hoped to use the killing of the buffalo to turn the crowd against her, Irène had struck back in what she considered to be the most effective manner.
The majority of the Metis were content to follow the comparatively primitive and simple existence of the earlier generations and, with a few exceptions, saw no use for formal learning and remained semi-or completely illiterate. Others, however, had seen the advantages offered by adopting a more sedentary and stable way of life. Having prospered, the latter class had seen the wisdom of sending their children to be educated in the more sophisticated eastern Provinces of Canada, the United States, or even Europe. Having been given such an education did nothing to endear the recipients to their bucolic compatriots, who considered that being submitted to it robbed them of their traditional abilities and skills.
‘You’ve got a big mouth!’ Leon spat out. The memory of similar aspersions upon his lack of hunting skill and the suspicion that adopting the ways of the white man had been to the detriment of his birthright, which had been frequently levelled his way since his return from college in Montreal, rankled to such an extent he could not control his anger. ‘But don’t think being Cavallier’s klooch gives you—’
The comment went unfinished.
Exhibiting a cat-like ability to change from lounging passiveness to sudden and rapid motion, Irène sent the chair skidding away with the force by which she came to her feet. Before either of the brothers realized what she intended to do, she had reached Leon and delivered a kick to the pit of his stomach which brought his words to an abrupt end. Nor had she finished her attack, although he was not the recipient of her further attentions. As he gave vent to an agonized croak and was sent stumbling backwards to sit down involuntarily on the floor, she lashed a savage backhand blow to the side of his brother’s face. Impelled by all the power of her far from puny right arm, it caught Phillipe just as unawares and knocked him spinning in an almost graceful pirouette that ended with him sprawling face down across a table.
Silence fell over the room for several seconds. Every pair of eyes went from where Leon had collapsed on to his rump, via his recumbent brother, to the cause of their misfortunes. Then bellows of laughter rose, even from those older members of the crowd who would usually have disapproved of such behavior in a woman.
‘Hey, you “almost whites”!’ Boniface whooped, carrying on the line taken by Irène by continuing to point out that the brothers had only a fraction of their family’s original Indian blood and suggesting they were losing touch with their Metis heritage. ‘That was something they didn’t teach you at your fancy Eastern college.’
Coming almost as if it were an echo to the comment, the sound of shots and the scream of a man in mortal agony diverted everybody’s attention. Realizing that the disturbance had originated from the rear of the building, where their wagon had been left, Irène and Boniface exchanged alarmed glances. Then, as startled exclamations arose, they started to run towards the rear door. Sharing their apprehension and equally oblivious of the commotion in the room, the Lacomb brothers led the rush of men who set after them.
Chapter Eight – I Shot in Self-Defense
That Jerry Potts was carrying out the difficult and potentially dangerous task of attempting to reach and search the wagon accompanying Irène Beauville’s party did not imply Sandy Mackintosh had been disinclined to take the risk. While his abilities as a scout were almost equal to those of his young companion, he had conceded that he was less suitable to perform the task successfully under the prevailing conditions. So he had accepted a more passive role.
Maintaining their unsuspected surveillance after the killing of the buffalo, the two scouts had drawn accurate conclusions over why the lance had been replaced in the wagon. What was more, having guessed from the direction in which the party was traveling that the destination might be the town of Nadeauvilie, they had decided to take advantage of any opportunity offered to search the vehicle, and also to obtain fresh food by helping themselves to meat from the dead animal.
Having seen their quarry settled for the night, Potts and Mackintosh had bedded down in a small grove about half a mile away. They had lit a small fire upon which to grill some of the meat during the hours of darkness, ensuring it was doused long before the sun rose to prevent any chance of smoke being seen when daylight came. Continuing their quest, they had not ridden directly along the party’s tracks. Instead, as they had done from the beginning, they took a parallel route and kept the others in sight from a distance. It was a precaution for which they had cause to be grateful.
Because their association with the Canadian Northwest Mounted Police was not a secret, the scouts had considered it was not advisable for them to go too close to Nadeauville in the daytime. There was too great a chance of somebody seeing them and they had no wish for Irène’s party to learn of their presence. Nor had there been any need for them to approach beyond the limit of prudence. When sending them to investigate the disturbing rumors which had reached him regarding Arnaud Cavallier’s activities, Colonel George A. French had supplied them with a powerful telescope. With its aid, they had been able to carry out their observation from a safe distance.
Being conversant with Paul Goulet’s political affiliations, Potts and Mackintosh had expected that it would be at his general store their quarry sought
accommodation. This had proved correct and the party’s actions suggested a stay of at least one night was intended. The scouts had not been surprised by the interest aroused by the visit any other reaction would have puzzled them. They had wondered if the town had been selected as a rendezvous for more of Cavallier’s adherents, but the only other newcomers they had seen did not fall into that category. Rather the opposite in fact, being known associates of the exiled Louis Riel. Approaching along a route which had suggested that they might have been following the other party’s tracks, the new arrivals’ behavior had implied they had not been invited to participate in any meeting that might be taking place. On coming into view shortly before sundown, they had circled around to convey the impression that they had reached Nadeauville from the opposite direction.
Turning from their speculations on the newcomers’ motives, Potts and Mackintosh had given their attention to another matter. Ever since they had commenced the surveillance, they had wondered what else might be in the wagon besides the lance. Having noticed the care with which the Lacomb brothers had checked that the ends of the canopy were closed and fastened together securely before reaching Nadeauville, they had deduced that the contents were such that it was considered inadvisable to give anybody an opportunity to examine them.
Not only had the scouts concluded that an investigation of the vehicle would prove informative, they had considered that they might not be granted a better opportunity to carry it out. There had been no chance of getting close enough to do so while the party were on the move and spending each night camped in the open, but it was possible – if risky – during a stay in a town. Nor had there been any argument over which of them was the more capable of performing the task. While there was little to choose between them in courage, or ability, past experience had taught them that there was one hazard which ruled out Mackintosh as a candidate.
