Belle of Batoche

by Jacqueline Guest

  “Will those terrible guns never stop!” Sarah grumbled, unwrapping herself from the blanket. “I can’t stand it anymore.”

  Belle understood how Sarah felt. The cannon fire had started early and it now seemed louder than ever. “Try to think of something pleasant,” Belle suggested. “Like the new hat your parents will buy you when they find out the last one is a little pile of ashes in a bigger pile of ashes.”

  Sarah sighed and pursed her lips. “You’re right. In fact, I think my parents should buy us both new hats since we had to spend four days in this oversized rabbit burrow.”

  “Are we in a real rabbit burrow?” A small voice asked.

  “Samuel, you’re awake!” Sarah gasped.

  Belle hurried over to the boy and felt his head. “His fever’s gone!”

  Samuel looked around, then smiled weakly up at Belle. “It looks more like a gopher hole.”

  Belle laughed. “That’s what your sister thought too!”

  “Welcome back, petit fils,” Belle’s mother nodded. “You gave us quite a scare.” She was able to move her hands a little and the horrible oozing had stopped.

  “This is wonderful!” Belle hugged Sarah. “Since Samuel finally woke up and joined our party, he will get the last of the Saskatoon jam!”

  “And both our pieces of bannock!” Sarah laughed, hugging Belle back.

  It was at this moment that Belle noticed something odd. “Shh!” she hissed. “Listen!”

  They all stopped and listened.

  “I don’t hear anything,” Sarah said, frowning.

  “Exactly!” Belle ran over to the door. “No guns!” She pushed the door wide open and looked out.

  15

  Battle’s End and a Friendship Begun

  Belle couldn’t believe her eyes. Her whole world had changed.

  Below her lay Batoche, or what was left of Batoche. Some houses and stores had big gaping holes where the cannonballs had hit and others had boards ripped apart from the Gatling gun. Windows were broken and fire had destroyed several buildings.

  Soldiers were everywhere, and Belle could see groups of Metis men being marched away under guard. Her heart sank.

  The Metis had lost the battle.

  Belle’s mother came and stood silently beside her surveying the devastation. “We must go and find your papa and Patrice!” She was looking toward the men who were under arrest. “It is such a sad thing to hope to see them with the prisoners.”

  Belle knew her mother was thinking of all the men who must have been killed in the fighting. She put her arm around her mother’s waist. “Don’t worry, Mama. They are safe. I know it.”

  Her mother reached out one bandaged hand and touched Belle’s cheek. “I want you to know how proud I am of you, ma petite fille. These last terrible days, you have shown me that you are growing up and when you need to, you can take care of not only yourself, but those around you.”

  A tear squeezed out of the corner of Belle’s eye. “Oh, Mama. I love you!” They hugged each other, and Belle noticed for the first time that she was nearly as tall as her mother.

  Her mother smiled at her. “Come now, we must go and see if we can find your papa so that I can tell him about his wonderful daughter.”

  They gathered their belongings, and with Sarah supporting her little brother, the small group started back to Batoche. Belle was the last to leave the old root cellar where they had sheltered. Their world would be different now and she knew it. Slinging her beautiful embroidered bag over her shoulder, she hurried after the small group as they made their way down the gently sloping hill.

  Father Moulin was leaning on a stick when they found him in front of what was left of Monsieur Letendre’s store. He said he’d been shot in the leg by a stray bullet. A group of weary looking women and children stood with the priest, and across the street Belle saw Sarah’s parents. Mr. Johnson had his arm around Sarah’s mother, and Belle thought he looked very tired. His clothes were dusty as though the couple had traveled a long way. Sarah’s mother looked worse. Her dress was muddy and the brim of her fine hat was torn and dangled at an odd angle. Belle nudged Sarah and pointed.

  Sarah waved excitedly. “Mama! Papa! Over here!”

  Sarah’s father saw her first and his face broke into a wide smile of delight, then Mrs. Johnson looked in their direction and began frantically waving her handkerchief. With cries of joy, the parents rushed over to their two children. “Sarah! Samuel! Thank heaven!” Sarah’s father scooped Samuel up in his arms while Sarah’s mother began crying and hugging her daughter.

  “We only returned from Duck Lake this morning,” Sarah’s father explained. “The soldiers would not let us come back any earlier. We have been frantic with worry. Where were you all this time?”

  Amid hugs and exclamations of relief, Belle’s mother explained what had happened and how they had hidden for the four days of the battle.

  Father Moulin hobbled over to where Belle’s mother was talking with Sarah’s parents. “Madame Tourond, do not worry, your husband and son escaped. They have gone into hiding, but will return once everything quiets down and our visitors have left.” The old priest nodded toward the soldiers.

  Belle could see relief flood her mother at this news. “Perhaps not all is lost.”

  “You are sure they are not hurt?” Belle pressed. She wanted Father Moulin to say that her papa and brother were all right. If a priest said they were unhurt, it would be the truth, and the terrible fear she had been carrying would be gone.

  Father Moulin nodded. “Do not worry, little one. I saw them ride away with my own eyes.”

  The tears that Belle had been holding back slid down her cheeks, but she didn’t care. Now they were tears of relief. She hugged her mother. “They will be home soon, Mama. I know it!”

  “I’m sure you are right, ma fille.” Her mother smiled and Belle saw the love shining in her eyes. Her voice sounded sad to Belle, but she thought she heard a hopeful note also.

  As the grown-ups discussed what they would do next, Belle and Sarah listened quietly. Suddenly Belle remembered the soldiers who had said they were going to steal Marie-Antoinette. Perhaps they had not succeeded. Perhaps the bell was still hanging safely in the tower, ready to call everyone to mass on Sunday.

  “Sarah, come on! We have to go to the church!” Belle grabbed Sarah’s hand and began running.

  “What is it?” Sarah asked, trying to keep up.

  “I’ll explain when we get there!” Belle ran through the burnt-out town and up the hill to the church and then stopped.

  Staring up at the bell tower, she felt tears stinging her eyes. “We are too late!”

  Sarah looked up, at first confused, then astonished as she too saw the empty tower. “The bell is gone! Someone has stolen Marie-Antoinette!”

  “I overheard three soldiers say they were going to steal the bell, but before I could tell anyone, things happened.” She shook her head, then felt ashamed at being so sad over a stolen bell when many families had lost everything. Perhaps one day, when peace came to Batoche, they would get Marie-Antoinette back.

  She took a deep breath. A lot of things had happened, but not all of them had

  been bad. One unexpected good thing Belle had discovered was that sometime over the last four days, Sarah had stopped being annoying and had become a friend.

  “Oh, Belle! This ruins everything!” Sarah blurted out and then started crying.

  Belle felt bad for her new friend who would never get to be the bell ringer at St. Antoine de Padoue, the most wonderful job in the world.

  “Stop belly aching.” She nudged Sarah in the ribs. “I’ll never get to be the bell ringer either.”

  Sarah started crying harder. “You don’t understand. The contest, I …” She sniffed loudly. “I sort of cheated to win. You were right about Madame Coteau. I did have her embroider the cloth.” She dropped to the ground and buried her head in her hands.

  Belle sat down beside her. “I know. I went to
Madame Coteau’s and she told me everything. I even have proof.” Belle reached into the embroidered bag and withdrew a wad of paper. She unfolded the note.

  Sarah looked up, confused. “You knew? Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Because there were more important things going on, and besides, when the time was right, I had my proof. At least I thought I had my proof.” She handed the note to Sarah.

  Sarah glanced at the paper, then looked at Belle and frowned. “There’s nothing but black streaks on this paper.”

  Belle started laughing. “It was a letter from Madame Coteau to Father Moulin telling him that she embroidered the cloth. I guess when I was canoeing back across the river, it must have become wet and the ink washed away. I can’t get another because Madame Coteau has left Batoche. This means your secret is safe.” Belle smiled ruefully. “I’m not going to tell because it doesn’t matter anymore. Marie-Antoinette has been kidnapped.”

  Sarah shook her head adamantly. “But it does matter, Belle Tourond. You won that contest fair and square. My secret may be safe with you, but it’s not going to remain a secret much longer.”

  She stood up excitedly. “That was what I meant when I said that everything was ruined. I was going to go to Father Moulin and tell him what I did and that you are the true bell ringer. I was also going to my parents and tell them how the girl they thought was riff raff was the honest one and their lovely daughter was the sneaky snake!” She went on in a rush. “I’m still going to tell the truth because, well …” Her face flushed. “I think we’ve become friends these last few days and I don’t want anything to get in our way. That is, if you still want to be friends with me after what I did …” Her voice trailed off.

  Belle looked at the empty bell tower, then back at the ruins of Batoche, now silhouetted in the early evening light. “I think we have a big job ahead of us. It would sure be nice to have a friend by my side while we rebuild Batoche.” She grinned at Sarah. “And I know my mama will have a very long list of chores that you could help me with!”

  As the gentle twilight wrapped around them, the two new friends smiled at each other and together started walking back through the tall prairie grass toward their home.

  Author’s Note

  Whereas Belle, Sarah and the embroidery contest are fictional, the historical events in this story are based on fact. Batoche was attacked by General Middleton, acting on behalf of Prime Minister John A. Macdonald on Saturday, May 9, 1885; the Northcote was disabled by the Metis defenders lowering a ferry cable; Father Moulin was shot in the leg; and the rebellion did end on Tuesday, May 12, 1885.

  Marie-Antoinette was the christened name of the twenty-pound silver bell given to St. Antoine du Padoue church by Bishop Grandin. The bell bears the inscription: “Vital-Justin Grandin, Eveque de St. Albert” and had Xavier Letendre dit Batoche, the founder of Batoche, and his sister Marie Letendre-Champagne as godparents.

  Marie-Antoinette was stolen during the rebellion by three Millbrook Orangemen named McCorry, Stainthorp and Nattras, and is still missing today.

  The Tourond family is real, with changes made to allow this story to be written. The entire family took part in the Rebellion. One son was on Louis Riel’s council, and because the family had harbored the rebel leader, the Tourond house was burnt to the ground. Josephte Tourond, a widow, lost two sons in the battle; one more was critically wounded; and two others were captured and taken to Regina for trial. One of them was my great-grandfather, Patrice Tourond.

  Jacqueline Guest is a Metis writer who lives in a log cabin nestled in the pinewoods of the Rocky Mountain foothills of Alberta. She is the author of many other books for children, but Belle of Batoche is her first story to incorporate family history and her first book for Orca Book Publishers.

  You can find out more about Jacqueline and her stories through her website: www.jacquelineguest.com

  For more titles in the Orca Young Readers series, please click here.