The Third Riel Conspiracy by Stephen Legault Read Free Book Online

as not as obstreperous as all accounts suggest.”
    â€œAnd if he is?” asked Saul.
    â€œThen I shall have to persuade him to the best of my ability.”
    DURRANT WALLACE FOUND Sub-Inspector Damien Dickenson inside a makeshift detention centre that had been fashioned inside the zareba. He was sitting on a round of wood, smoking a pipe and cleaning his Winchester.
    â€œGood morning, Sub-Inspector,” Durrant said as he made his way into the tight enclosure of wagons. He stopped and stood at attention.
    Dickenson looked up. He was a ginger-haired man with a broad moustache and small blue eyes set close together on his round face. “Good mornin’.”
    â€œMy name is Sergeant Durrant Wallace.” He stood stiffly before the seated man.
    â€œYou’re Mounted Police?”
    â€œI am. Fort Calgary, sir.”
    â€œYou don’t wear the serge?”
    â€œNo, sir. I haven’t in some time. The kind of work I do, it’s better to conceal my purposes.”
    Dickenson looked at Durrant. “I know who you are—the infamous Sergeant Wallace.” Dickenson stood and offered his hand. Durrant glanced down at his own game right hand, and Dickenson awkwardly switched to his left so that Durrant could shake it. “I didn’t think you’d been assigned to the campaign, but here you are.”
    â€œIndeed, here I am, sir. It’s a clandestine effort that’s led me here to Batoche.”
    â€œCare for a seat, Sergeant?” Dickenson turned up another round of wood for Durrant to sit on. Durrant accepted, lying his rifle and crutch down beside him. “Did you see any action, Wallace?”
    â€œNot to speak of. I made haste to reach Batoche, but didn’t arrive in time to get into the fray. How did you fare?”
    â€œVery well. I was able to do my part on the Mission Ridge. I was with Van Straubenzie and the others yesterday afternoon when the charge was ordered. We went hard for the Mission Ridge and swept all resistance away.”
    Durrant listened in silence.
    â€œI don’t care to seem rude, but what is your business here in the stockade?” asked Dickenson.
    â€œI understand that you have a man named La Biche here in custody?”
    Dickenson drew on his pipe. “The assassin? Yes, he’s in that wagon there.” He pointed with his chin.
    â€œHe got caught red-handed?”
    â€œHe was in possession of Reuben Wake’s pistol.”
    â€œDid you catch the man yourself?”
    â€œA man named Jasper Dire did. He’s a volunteer in Major Boulton’s Regina company.”
    â€œYou’ve interviewed him?”
    â€œI have.”
    â€œWhat did you learn?”
    Dickenson regarded Durrant with a cool eye. He drew on his pipe, the smoke circling around his features a moment before he spoke. “He’s a rebel. A half-breed. When it looked as if the battle was going against the Métis, he broke away from the cookery and sought out a man to kill. Even the score, I suppose.”
    â€œThis is what he told you?”
    â€œIt’s what happened. It’s a simple matter of facts.”
    Durrant studied Dickenson’s face. “How many others are being held here in the stockade that were arrested that day?” asked Durrant.
    â€œTwelve men. Some others were captured and released after they laid down arms.”
    â€œHow many men are being held here that were not captured in the fighting? Are there others like La Biche who surrendered?”
    â€œOne other—a Métis—who was found in the willows along the riverbank. He had a knife on his person.”
    â€œAnd what was he doing?” asked Durrant.
    â€œHe says he was just sitting. His name is Jacques Lambert. He’s not well in the head. Cut his own wrists there on the banks of the river. Middleton’s doctor had to bandage them. The man is under guard in the infirmary.”
    â€œWhere is the murder weapon,