Belle of Batoche

by Jacqueline Guest

  Belle took a deep breath. She looked from Sarah’s red, tear-stained face, to little Samuel on the floor and then to her mother. She could see her mother biting back the pain.

  She remembered her mother’s words: One day, you will have no choice, Belle. People will be counting on you. She straightened up, feeling strangely older and somehow, stronger.

  “Sarah, stop that crying or I will throw you out for the soldiers to use for target practice!” Shocked, Sarah abruptly shut up. Belle’s voice softened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. We have to work together now. You and I are going to take care of my mama and Samuel.” She thought Sarah was going to protest, but all she did was nod her head.

  Belle checked on Samuel. His breathing was strained. “Samuel!” she called, shaking him. “Samuel, wake up!” But the small boy didn’t respond. “Sarah, come and watch over your brother. If he wakes, call me.”

  Still sniffing, Sarah sat beside her brother.

  Belle moved around the cellar using the lantern to check into dark corners for any other treasures that may have been overlooked. There wasn’t much left in the old cellar, but she did find a tattered blanket to put over Samuel.

  “Mama, you have to have medicine for your hands, and we’ll need supplies if we’re going to stay here.” She couldn’t believe that she was saying these things to her mother.

  Her mother smiled reassuringly at her, but the corners of her mouth were pinched. “I know, Belle. But we cannot go out into the fighting. It’s too dangerous. You could be injured or …” Her voice trailed off.

  Belle knew her mother was thinking about Papa and Patrice. She was worried too, but she couldn’t let that stop her. She thought for a moment. There was only one way. “Later tonight, when it is dark, I’m going back to our house and gather what we need. It’s not far, and I’ll be very careful.”

  She and her mother looked at each other. They both knew if they were to stay hiding here, they would have to have food and water.

  “Are you sure you can do it?” her mother asked.

  Belle smiled confidently. “Of course I can! I know every inch of prairie around here and, thanks to always being late getting home, I also know every shortcut to our house.”

  As the afternoon wore on, Belle sat on the cold ground, waiting for nightfall. Her mother was resting, but her hands were now oozing a foul fluid.

  Sarah, who had been pacing the dirt floor, became more anxious as the hours dragged by. “We can’t possibly stay here. It’s not safe. There’s no food, and Samuel needs a doctor.” She seemed to be talking to herself, and then she looked over at Belle. “How are we going to live in this oversized gopher hole? We should have waited for my parents.”

  Belle looked up at Sarah. “And where would you have waited? The last time I looked there wasn’t much left of your house.”

  Sarah opened her mouth to say something more, but instead, she went to check on her brother. After a while, she straightened up and stomped back over to Belle. “My parents went to Duck Lake on business very early this morning before all this, this …” She waved her arm in the direction of the cellar door. “This craziness began. They weren’t coming back until tomorrow, but what if they heard about the fighting and tried to return for us? They could be caught in the gunfire!”

  Belle heard the panic in Sarah’s voice. “Your papa is a smart man. He wouldn’t walk into the middle of a battle. I’m sure he and your mother are safe. They’re probably waiting for the troops to leave so he can come for you and Samuel.”

  Sarah thought about this for a minute and seemed to be satisfied. She was much calmer as she went back to sit with her unconscious brother.

  The hours dragged slowly by until finally Belle stretched and got up. “Mama, I think it’s time. I’m going to go now.” She tried to sound brave.

  “I wish there was another way, ma cherie, but there is none. Please, please be careful, Belle.”

  As Belle hugged her mother, she noticed her burnt hands had now curled up into claws and the skin was a strange color.

  “I won’t be long, Mama.” She made her voice light as she went to the old door. “Don’t go anywhere without me!”

  Belle slipped into the velvet darkness outside. The night was still and very quiet. She could hear the frogs croaking down by the river’s edge. Carefully, she inspected the root cellar door to make sure no light could be seen leaking out around the cracks. Satisfied no telltale clue would alert soldiers as to where they were, Belle stealthily started making her way back to her house.

  As she moved through the inky blackness, Belle was startled when she heard movement in the darkness ahead. She scurried away being careful to avoid getting any closer to where the sounds had come from. Pushing through the bushes, she could see campfires dotting the surrounding countryside. They must be government troops. The Metis would never be so foolish as to give their positions away by lighting fires.

  The tall grass felt cold on her legs as she made her way along the edge of the embankment. She kept low to the ground so her silhouette couldn’t be seen against the moonlit skyline. Belle was glad for all those days spent exploring every inch of this vast open area around Batoche. She knew every boulder and bush between her and her family’s cozy little house. At last, she could see her home not far ahead.

  Checking first to make sure no one had been alerted to her movements, she ran across the open ground to the back door.

  Her heart pounded as she pressed her body against the side of the house. Belle listened for any sound of soldiers. Satisfied that the house was empty, she crept inside.

  It was as black as pitch. In the dark, Belle moved through the familiar rooms gathering the items they would need.

  As quickly as possible, she found blankets, bannock and dried meat and piled them on the kitchen table. She would have to use the pump in the sink to fill the skin water bags. When she moved the cast iron handle up and down to draw the water, the pump screeched its annoyance. Belle cringed. She hoped no soldiers were passing close enough to hear.

  After filling the water bags, she grabbed her mother’s medicine pouch, which contained bandages, herbs and several of her mother’s favorite medicines. She reached into the bag and smiled as her fingers closed around the old glass jar with the special salve her mother had used when Belle had burnt her foot. She tucked the medicine pouch and all her other treasures into the carpetbag that her mother had been packing, added another lantern for good measure and slipped back out into the night.

  Soundlessly, she made her way back toward the root cellar. Just as she was going to make a dash to the hidden door, a mounted patrol rounded a small hill and headed straight for her. Belle dropped to the ground and lay flat, hoping the grass was tall enough to hide her. The sound of the horses’ hooves came closer and closer. Staying perfectly still, she held her breath as the two men passed. Still not daring to move, she watched them until they disappeared around the next hill, then scrambling to her feet, she ran for the root cellar.

  When she reached the old door, she was careful to close it securely behind her. With the soldiers so close, she wasn’t taking any chances.

  “Belle! Thank heavens!” Her mother was still sitting in the same place. Her face looked very white in the pale light cast by the old lantern.

  “I had no trouble,” Belle said, not bothering to mention the patrol. She unloaded her supplies and lit the second lantern. “This will give us more light and,” she grinned at Sarah, “take the chill off our oversized gopher hole.”

  Belle walked over to her mother with the bandages and salve. “I hope this will ease the pain.” She held the medicine out to her mother, then realized that wouldn’t work. Her mother’s hands were too damaged. “Tell me what to do, Mama.”

  Her mother smiled at her. “Oui, ma petite fille, we begin …” Her mother told her what to do, and Belle set to work cleaning her mother’s burns and applying the soothing salve. She was careful to keep the bandages loose so that she could remove th
em easily. She knew from the way the burns were still weeping that the bandages would need changing by morning.

  “That is perfect, Belle. You did a fine job.” Her mother looked tired as Belle returned the medicine and bandages to the pouch.

  “Does it hurt much?” she asked, looking at the bandages.

  “It is much better now. Merci, cherie.” Her mother closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall. Belle went over to where Sarah sat next to her brother. “How’s he doing?” she asked, feeling the little boy’s forehead.

  “He’s the same.” Sarah looked at Belle with fear in her eyes. “Is he going to die?” she asked.

  Belle heard the quaver in her voice. “Of course not!” she said firmly. “We’re going to nurse him back to health.” She poured cool water into an old bowl, soaked a cloth in it and handed Sarah the cloth. “Put this on his forehead and talk to him. When our horses are sick, my Papa speaks to them and tells them everything is going to be alright, and you know what?”

  Sarah shook her head.

  “Everything usually is! I think horses and little brothers like being fussed over and talked to.”

  She left Sarah cooing to her brother and went to the old carpetbag. Pulling the food and blankets out, Belle gave some of each to Sarah and tucked two extra blankets around Samuel. After this, she busied herself feeding her mother bits of bannock and meat and offering sips of water.

  When she finally turned the lantern out, she was very very tired.

  14

  Living in a Gopher Hole

  As near as Belle could tell, it was just after noon on their second day in the root cellar. She had changed the dressing on her mother’s hands, and though they still looked terrible, her mother didn’t think the infection was getting worse.

  As the afternoon worn on, the noise of the guns became constant and the strain was very hard to take. Samuel had fallen into a feverish sleep, tossing and turning fitfully as his breathing became raspy.

  Sarah hovered over her brother, jumping up and down, replacing the cloth on his forehead and peering at his pale, still face.

  Belle could understand her concern. If that had been her brother Patrice, she would have been worried too. Thinking of Patrice made the knot in her stomach tighten. Please let Patrice and Papa be all right, she prayed. She gave her body a shake. When she spoke, her voice was soft. “Let him rest, Sarah. Your fussing is wearing me out.”

  Sarah’s chin wobbled. “This is all my fault,” she said.

  Belle was confused. “Why? You didn’t set your house on fire.”

  Sarah shook her head. “No, you don’t understand. After mother and father left, Samuel began complaining that he felt sickly. I thought he was just being a baby and I teased him.” She wiped at her face. “But he’s always getting sick. Mother says it’s because when he was a baby he had the croup and it left him weak. I should have sent for the doctor this morning. Maybe the smoke wouldn’t have made him so sick.”

  “Sarah,” Belle said softly, “even if the doctor had come in the morning, the smoke would still have made Samuel much worse.”

  “I suppose you’re right, Belle. It’s just that I feel so helpless.” Sarah sniffed loudly.

  “Me too, Sarah. But we can’t fight bullets with our bare hands.” Belle smiled. “I’m sure Samuel knows you’re taking good care of him.”

  As the day wore on, Belle’s mother kept checking on the little boy’s condition. When afternoon came, she laid her head gently on Samuel’s chest and listened to his breathing. She shook her head. “I’m afraid he may be developing pneumonia. We must keep him warm.”

  They had been using only one lantern turned very low to save the fuel, but now Belle lit the second lantern and turned both up as high as she safely could. She moved the lanterns closer to Samuel and took Sarah’s blanket and wrapped it around the small figure.

  Belle had thought Sarah would protest, but she handed the blanket over without a word.

  “With only my blanket for the two of us, you and I are going to be blanket buddies,” Belle said, hoping to cheer Sarah up. She could see that Sarah was still afraid for her brother. She thought of her papa and Patrice and swallowed the fear that made her throat feel so tight. As evening drew in, Belle decided she should change her moth-er’s bandages again before they turned in for the night.

  Sarah was huddled in the corner, not saying a word as she tossed small stones across the cellar, trying to hit an old bucket that was leaning against the wall.

  “Sarah, come and help me, please.” Belle needed more light to work on her mother’s burns.

  “I don’t know anything about fixing burnt up hands,” Sarah said as she tossed another rock.

  “Then that makes two of us. Your job will be to hold the lantern, so I can see what I’m doing, and hand me the salve and bandages when I need them.” Belle eased off the soaked bandages and listened as her mother told her what to do to dress the burns.

  “I think I may faint!” Sarah said in a whispery voice, staring wide-eyed at the raw wounds.

  Belle looked at her. “I need your help, Sarah.” Her voice was calm although her own stomach was feeling queasy.

  “I’m proud of you girls being such wonderful young nurses,” Belle’s mother said, smiling, but Belle heard the strain in her voice. “I know this is very hard for you both.”

  They had just finished the bandaging when they heard a low rumbling. It began far away, then became louder and louder. Finally, the pounding was directly over their heads. The ground shook and dust rained down on them. Belle was afraid the roof was going to cave in.

  “It’s horses, lots of them.” Belle’s mother looked up at the ceiling of the root cellar. “And they are right on top of us.”

  “Maybe it’s our families looking for us!” Sarah clapped her hands, her eyes wild with hope.

  “Maybe, but I don’t think so.” Belle turned the lanterns down and went to the door, opening it a small crack. She listened, then closed it again. “It’s a group of redcoats and they’re setting up camp for the night. We must be very quiet!” she whispered.

  Even in the dim light, Belle could see Sarah’s face grow pale.

  “It’s late and we were going to sleep anyway,” she said reassuringly. “As long as they don’t keep us awake, we’ll have no trouble with them.” Belle offered Sarah her blanket. “Why don’t you sleep beside Samuel? I’m sure he’ll feel better with you near.”

  Sarah took the blanket and went over to her brother.

  Belle cuddled up next to her mother, but whether it was from cold or worry, she found she couldn’t sleep.

  Toward dawn, Samuel began to cough.

  Belle sat up, stiff with fear. “Mama, do you have anything in your medicine bag to ease Samuel’s coughing?” she asked. Her mother followed Belle’s gaze to the ceiling. If the soldiers heard …

  Her mother thought for a moment. “I have just the thing,” she said. “Quick, bring me my bag.”

  Belle did as she was told. “Look for a small vial of honey and lemon mixture.”

  Belle rummaged in the medicine pouch, then with a grin, pulled out the slim bottle. “I know what to do with this.”

  Mixing a dollop into a cup with water, she held it to Samuel’s parched lips. Even in his delirious state, he drank the sweet soothing liquid greedily.

  Belle gently pushed his damp hair off the small boy’s forehead, then sighed. His breathing had eased and he had stopped coughing for the moment.

  “I’m too hot,” Sarah whispered. She’d been watching Belle tend to her brother. “Why don’t you take the blanket and try to get some sleep? I’ll watch Samuel.” She held the blanket out to Belle.

  Belle was sure Sarah wasn’t too hot at all, as the root cellar was very chilly. Exhaustion washed over her in a dark wave. Nodding, she took the blanket. “Thanks.”

  Later, Belle became aware of Sarah huddled beside her. “You’re keeping me awake with your shivering,” she whispered and wrapped the blanket
around them both. In minutes, they were fast asleep.

  They were awoken the next morning by the sounds of men and horses moving about. Soon the noises stopped and Belle edged the door open. Climbing carefully up to the side of the embankment, she peeked over the top. The soldiers had broken camp and were gone. Belle scrambled back to the cellar to tell the others. They spent the day talking and telling stories. Belle’s mother made the girls laugh with her tales of how things were done in the old days. As the noise of the battle continued, Belle and Sarah sang songs to keep their spirits up.

  “You have a nice voice,” Belle said as Sarah finished singing an old lullaby her grandmother had taught her.

  “Really?” Sarah said, surprised. “My mother always complained I couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket.”

  “Is that why you never joined the choir?” Belle asked.

  Sarah looked uncomfortable, then she giggled. “Actually, my mother said I shouldn’t mix with riff raff.”

  Belle looked at her, then started giggling too. “Well, if you ever find this Riff Raff fellow, let me know because I’m sure I don’t want to mix with him either!”

  That night, Belle stole back out to her house for more supplies. It was a disappointing trip as soldiers had broken in and taken nearly all the remaining food, leaving only some stale bannock and a couple of pieces of salt pork.

  When she returned to the cellar, Belle was surprised to see her mother and Sarah hovering over Samuel. Belle feared the worst.

  “His fever is very high,” her mother said, looking up. The worry in her face was plain. “We need to lower his temperature.”

  The three of them took turns through the night sponging Samuel down. As Belle fell into a fitful doze, she heard her mother whispering a prayer for all of them to live through this terrible time.

  Belle was the last to take her turn and was still awake when Tuesday morning arrived. Samuel was coughing again, but she thought it sounded better than the day before.

  As she set out the last of the bannock and jam she wondered where she could go for more food if the battle didn’t end soon.