by Carol Matas
Hindl was telling Molly she could have one of the Shirley Temple paper dolls from her new book and Molly was sharing her candy with everybody when who should show up but Gert and Chaim — and they had something for Hindl too! I knew Gert felt bad about the overalls. They actually brought Hindl a real Eaton Beauty doll — except it didn’t actually come from Eaton’s. Chaim said he knows someone who knows someone who works in the warehouse and the doll just sort of fell off a truck. Trust Chaim.
For a poor little Jewish girl, Hindl sure did get a lot of Christmas presents. I hope Ma and Pa won’t be upset when they see them. They’re all from Jewish people, after all, so they’re really not Christmas presents.
December 25
It’s Christmas today. I was worried that Hindl would be upset this morning when she woke and found out that Santa didn’t bring her the doll she wanted. Sure, she got all those presents — but not a single one of them was a real Shirley Temple doll. But when I went to look in their room, she and Molly were so busy playing with the presents they didn’t even notice that Santa hadn’t come.
When I went in, Hindl gave me a big hug and said she was full of Shirley Temple goodness, and when I asked her what she meant, she said it was like in the prayer they say at St. Chris sometimes.
I told her I didn’t know what she meant, and she said, “You know, Sally. It goes ‘Shirley Goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life.’”
Well, they sure were following her yesterday, even if Santa didn’t come. I guess you don’t have to have Christmas for people to show they care about you.
When the North West Resistance broke out, Josephine’s family sided with Louis Riel. But the Métis forces that fought at Batoche faced yet more challenges after the battle itself. The Bouviers and others who decided to stay have been struggling to survive, and still they do not hold title to their land.
A Time to Rebuild
Le 10 décembre 1885
How our little Alexandre’s illness worries us all.
So very weary after this long cold day of travel, but still I cannot sleep. I am certain it is because it is the first time I have stayed in another person’s home. Madame and Monsieur Parenteau, Louise’s cousins, are very kind to take us in, and generous, for they have little more than we do after the soldiers burned our homes last spring.
I should not dwell on the troubles. It is hard not to, though, especially since Monsieur Parenteau, who is nearly as old as Moushoom, insisted on asking a hundred questions after supper. He wanted every detail about the battle at Batoche, since he had been unable to fight himself. He has but one leg. Moushoom gave him those details, but I could tell how it bothered him.
No one said so, but I knew that we all would be thinking about home for a long while tonight, and if
Plus tard
Poor little Alexandre. I heard him coughing, and so went to Louise, who was in the kitchen with Madame Parenteau, making an onion poultice for his chest. Madame had nothing else at hand. Perhaps it is helping, since his coughing has lessened. I think the cold air did Alexandre no good today, even though Louise had him well bundled, and Papa drove the horses hard to get here quickly. Madame Montour’s home in Prince Albert is still a good day’s journey away. I am so worried about my tiny new brother.
Worrying about his cough does no good. I pray that journeying to Louise’s sister at Prince Albert will.
Encore plus tard
No more coughing, and so it was not the coughing that has wakened me, but the snoring. Moushoom, Armand, Edmond, Papa, Monsieur Parenteau and, I suspect, Madame Parenteau, all snore horribly. In this small house you cannot escape the noise. If Adrian were here instead of back home in Moushoom’s cabin at Batoche, it would be even worse. Abain, nothing to do but write.
Besides, I have got to thinking, which is not wise at this hour, but cannot be helped. It is something that Monsieur Parenteau talked about after Moushoom told the story of the battle. He said that we were not all that far from the place where Louis Riel and his companions had hidden for three days in a certain Madame Halcro’s root cellar. Monsieur Parenteau explained how he himself had seen the sash that Monsieur Riel gave to Margaret Halcro in gratitude for her kindness. She would show it to us, if we wanted, and describe exactly what had happened when Monsieur Riel surrendered.
Papa said he would consider it, but I could tell from his face that we would not be stopping chez Halcro. None of us needs to be reminded of events that are still as raw as open wounds.
Le 11 décembre 1885
Prince Albert at last. I have not seen much of it yet, except for this house and what surrounds it, but still, even that much is amazing. There are so many people here, and so many wagons and sleighs. I can see the Saskatchewan River — the North Saskatchewan River — from this bedroom, since Monsieur and Madame Montour’s house is not far from its bank. There are no buildings over on the north side, unlike here on the south bank where there are dozens of houses, stores and other places of business. Papa says we will see the town in time, but for now there are far more important matters. I agree. Nothing is more important than the health of little Alexandre. Papa and Monsieur Montour have already spoken to a doctor, who will be calling tomorrow.
Le soir
We said the rosary after supper with Madame Montour, her husband, their two young sons Jean Paul and Jean Claude, and their daughter Sophie. It is a good thing that Papa, Louise, Madame and Monsieur pray with their eyes closed, which spared them the sight of all the boys, including Armand, making faces at each other. Moushoom and Edmond were also spared, since they sat in the kitchen smoking their pipes, but I was not.
Sophie did not make faces — she is my age, and so knows better — but she did wink at me, as if to say how much older and wiser we were than our silly brothers. Perhaps Sophie and I will be friends, which would be a good thing, since we are to share her room while we visit here.
Très tard
Only a little coughing, but now there is wailing, as the Montours’ newest child, Elizabeth, has colic, and so cries a great deal. And I will not even write about the snoring again, other than to say all these sounds woke both Sophie and me. What I will write about though, is a wonderful discovery. Sophie also keeps a diary! She has told me that she often writes in it late at night when she cannot sleep, and so here we both sit, pen in hand.
Now I am certain we will be friends.
Le 12 décembre 1885
Matin
The doctor has sent word that we are to expect him this afternoon. One of his patients has gone into a difficult labour, and he cannot leave her. I saw Louise fingering the medal that her sister Rose sent her so many months ago. She and Madame Montour both know about the dangers of childbirth, and so I knew it was the reason she did so. That and her worry for Alexandre.
I feel sorry for that woman who is in labour, and hope that she and her child survive. Still, my love for Alexandre is greater than any of that. I pray the doctor comes soon.
L’après midi
Madame Montour had visitors this afternoon, neighbouring women who not only came to see her, but to see us. One of them, a Madame Pascal, clucked her tongue over Elizabeth and Alexandre while shaking her head, which I did not much care for. She recommended a medicine called Mrs. Winslow’s Soothing Syrup, which she had bought at a place called Clark’s Drugstore, and she put a bottle of the stuff in Louise’s hand. Madame Pascal swears by it, explaining that the medicine not only stops coughing and soothes colic, but it puts a little one right to sleep. Louise said she would consider it, and so did Madame Montour.
Later, after Madame Pascal and the other ladies were gone, Moushoom said that he did not like the smell of that Soothing Syrup. It smelled like laudanum, like the poppy drug, and nothing was worse than laudanum. He had known men who craved laudanum more than whisky, and so how could it be soothing for a baby? Alexandre should not take a drop of it.
I agree.
Le soir
Still no doctor, but he did
send over a bottle of medicine by way of a man named Thomas Eastwood Jackson. Mr. Jackson — he is not Métis — also owns a drugstore. This bottle contained something called Dr. Fowler’s Extract of Wild Strawberry. I could see that Louise was torn over which medicine to give Alexandre. That was when Moushoom spoke up. My grandfather had been very quiet since we arrived yesterday, and so his outburst, and that he began to question Mister Jackson, surprised us all. What was in this medicine? Anything bad? The answer to that was no. The medicine contained exactly what its name said, and everyone knows that strawberries are good for you. This satisfied Papa, Louise and Moushoom, and so Alexandre was dosed. What faces he made! We all laughed.
Sometimes I think laughter heals more quickly than any medicine.
Plus tard
Sophie says that Mr. Jackson has a brother William who was at Batoche, the very man who was Louis Riel’s secretary. Sophie had heard that William Jackson was sent to an insane asylum after his trial, but he escaped and fled to the United States.
Poor man. Perhaps he will find peace there.
Le 13 décembre 1885
Mass this morning was said by Père André at St. Anne’s Church. The adults and the well-bundled babies rode over in the Montours’ sleigh, but the rest of us walked. It was not a very peaceful walk, what with the boys pelting each other and us with snow.
It made me feel strange to see Père André after all this while. They say he was a great comfort to Louis Riel just before Monsieur Riel’s death. I hope that is the truth.
Le 14 décembre 1885
Monsieur Montour goes to his general store every day after he takes Sophie to school. This morning, though, he left Sophie at home. He would explain to the nuns that there was sickness in the Montour house, and that his wife’s sister and her family were visiting for Christmas. Sophie was needed at home. The good sisters would understand.
Last night I heard Madame Montour telling Louise about St. Anne’s school and how expensive it is. She and her husband pay $15.00 a quarter, so that Sophie may attend. Then there are her clothes and such, which are specially made by a seamstress named Miss McGuire, for Sophie must look as stylish as the other girls. She is even learning Latin, and so Madame Montour thinks it is well worth the cost.
It is a little hard not to feel a bit of envy — I have only this one skirt and blouse and my good dress for Sundays — but Moushoom has always said that envy is like rust. It will eat you up if you let it, and as I have no wish to be eaten by anything, I will not give in to
Plus tard
The doctor has come at last! He is a small round man named Dr. Maxwell, who has an odd way of speaking French. Papa says it is because he is from Scotland, and that is the reason there seem to be so very many rrrs in his words.
Dr. Maxwell listened to Alexandre’s chest. He prescribed a treatment of misting to ease Alexandre’s breathing, but was certain that he did not suffer from croup. It was Louise and Rose, though, who needed to rest and strengthen themselves so that they could pass that strength on to their babies when they nursed them. I could see that this did not sit well with either woman. The doctor added that Louise and her sister should eat red meat and perhaps take a glass of port each evening. Both would enrich their blood. And quiet — they must have quiet, and a chance to visit.
Dr. Maxwell is not married, I was later told. I suppose that is why he thinks that quiet is easy to have in a house filled with two little ones, and with restless boys.
La nuit
Sophie dislikes Latin. She cannot see what possible use it will ever be to her. She has also said how lucky I am to have been educated at home. She envies me, and especially envies the fact that, unlike her, I do not have to be laced into a corset each day so that my school clothing will fit properly.
Papa, though. I could see that the doctor’s words eased his mind, but I could also see that his pride was hurt. He says nothing, but not being able to provide for his family as he once could is hard to bear. It is why we are here, of course, as there is not ever enough food back at Batoche since the war. I pray that Adrian has enough to eat. My brother’s Christmas will be a lonely one with only Moushoom’s dog Moon for company. And I pray that in time we will get title to our land, the land for which we have suffered so very much.
Le 15 décembre 1885
Papa and Monsieur Montour have come to an arrangement. Papa told him that visiting was one thing, but that our family refuses to take advantage. The arrangement is that as long as we are here, Papa, Moushoom and Edmond will work at the Montours’ store. Dear Papa. He is such a proud man.
It has been difficult for all of us to have lost almost everything we once had, and the loss made it even harder for Papa to overcome his pride and leave Batoche. The night before we left he said it was almost as though we were running away. Moushoom reminded us all that a wise person knows when it is a good time to run, but that we would not actually be running — our horses and wagon were too slow for that.
We all laughed. It felt so good.
Le 16 décembre 1885
Sophie and I have also come to an arrangement. We will help with as many of the household chores as possible, naturally. But we will also look after the boys, and take them on outings each day so that the house is quiet for at least a few hours.
Le 17 décembre 1885
Madame Montour does not bake. She buys her bread and cakes from the East End Bakery, and so this afternoon Sophie and I walked there with Armand, Jean Paul and Jean Claude. There was bribery involved, I fear, but promising each boy a penny for candy did keep them from throwing snow at us. On the way back, Armand showed the twins how clever he is by reading aloud the words on a poster in the window of a store. I wish he had not.
The poster advertised a dramatic entertainment that will be happening tomorrow evening. How the boys begged Papa and Monsieur Montour to be taken. None of us will be going though, because the entertainment is being put on by the police — those same North-West Mounted Police who fought our Métis soldiers at Duck Lake. Moushoom says bitterness solves nothing, but there is a limit. Besides, he doubts that the police could be very entertaining.
Plus tard
I am sure it is wrong of me to think this, and I would never say it aloud, but this household does not feel Métis the way ours does. Madame and Monsieur Montour are Métis, of course, but they rarely speak Michif at home, only French and English. Monsieur says that English is the language of business here at Prince Albert. Somehow that seems so sad.
Le 18 décembre 1885
Papa and the others brought something wonderful back to the house this evening, a large spruce tree. I have heard about Christmas trees, of course, but they are not the tradition in Batoche. Sophie and I were allowed to hang the glass ornaments, since we could be trusted not to break them. What fun the boys had stringing popcorn and cranberries. Papa and Monsieur Montour set candles on the ends of some of the branches, and carefully lit them so that we could all enjoy the sight for a few minutes. Even Moushoom enjoyed this, saying that it was much better than watching policemen leap around on a stage. That made all of us laugh.
Later Monsieur Montour showed us all something in today’s newspaper. He had placed a new ad there, one that listed all the goods he sells in his store. He had bought two copies of the newspaper, so that Sophie and I could cut out the ads and paste them in our diaries.
Le 19 décembre 1885
I have now seen a Christmas card, as one arrived here today, sent from Monsieur Montour’s cousin in Regina. On it was the picture of a large bearded man that Sophie says is Father Christmas. Jean Claude and Jean Paul explained everything to Armand about Father Christmas. Later Armand told me he did not believe a word of it. A monster like googoosh living under your bed is one thing, but a man coming down a chimney is just foolishness. I had to agree.
Le 20 décembre 1885
Mass at St. Anne’s. Père André’s sermon was one of goodwill and peace. Papa spoke with Père André afterward. It seems that the pri
est sends his prayers and good wishes with us to Batoche when we return. Sometimes I wonder about prayers. They are not always answered, and even when they are, the answer is not always the one you want. It makes me think about how Louis Riel and so many of the women of Batoche prayed for victory during the battle. So much is gone in spite of those prayers.
Le Boon Jeu has heard my prayers, though. Even after these few days here, Alexandre does seem a bit better. So does Louise. Maybe it is the medicine, and maybe it is the red meat and port, but I think there is more to it than that. Louise loves us, but I know she is happy to be with her sister again, if even for a short while. When she was alive, Mama always said that love can cure a great many things.
You were right, Mama, as always.
Le 21 décembre 1885
Sophie’s brothers have each hung one of their stockings on the mantel above the fireplace in the sitting room. The twins said that we must do the same or we would miss out on the treats Father Christmas leaves.
Plus tard
I see that Armand has hung one of his stockings next to the boys’. Although he thinks that the business with Father Christmas and the chimney is foolishness, Armand does not believe in taking chances where treats are concerned.
Le 22 décembre 1885
Sophie and I have each hung one of our stockings next to those of the boys. She says it is only in fun, since it is her parents who place the treats there. I am not to say anything to the twins, however, since they truly believe in Father Christmas. Abain.
Le 23 décembre 1885
The weather is so mild, and Louise and her sister in such good spirits, they decided to dress the little ones warmly and accompany us on our walk this afternoon. Alexandre and Elizabeth seemed to enjoy being pulled along in the twins’ sled, and for once all three boys were well behaved.
