as not as obstreperous as all accounts suggest.â
âAnd if he is?â asked Saul.
âThen I shall have to persuade him to the best of my ability.â
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.
âGood morning, Sub-Inspector,â 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. âGood morninâ.â
âMy name is Sergeant Durrant Wallace.â He stood stiffly before the seated man.
âYouâre Mounted Police?â
âI am. Fort Calgary, sir.â
âYou donât wear the serge?â
âNo, sir. I havenât in some time. The kind of work I do, itâs better to conceal my purposes.â
Dickenson looked at Durrant. âI know who you areâthe infamous Sergeant Wallace.â 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. âI didnât think youâd been assigned to the campaign, but here you are.â
âIndeed, here I am, sir. Itâs a clandestine effort thatâs led me here to Batoche.â
âCare for a seat, Sergeant?â Dickenson turned up another round of wood for Durrant to sit on. Durrant accepted, lying his rifle and crutch down beside him. âDid you see any action, Wallace?â
âNot to speak of. I made haste to reach Batoche, but didnât arrive in time to get into the fray. How did you fare?â
âVery 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.â
Durrant listened in silence.
âI donât care to seem rude, but what is your business here in the stockade?â asked Dickenson.
âI understand that you have a man named La Biche here in custody?â
Dickenson drew on his pipe. âThe assassin? Yes, heâs in that wagon there.â He pointed with his chin.
âHe got caught red-handed?â
âHe was in possession of Reuben Wakeâs pistol.â
âDid you catch the man yourself?â
âA man named Jasper Dire did. Heâs a volunteer in Major Boultonâs Regina company.â
âYouâve interviewed him?â
âI have.â
âWhat did you learn?â
Dickenson regarded Durrant with a cool eye. He drew on his pipe, the smoke circling around his features a moment before he spoke. âHeâs 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
âThis is what he told you?â
âItâs what happened. Itâs a simple matter of facts.â
Durrant studied Dickensonâs face. âHow many others are being held here in the stockade that were arrested that day?â asked Durrant.
âTwelve men. Some others were captured and released after they laid down arms.â
âHow many men are being held here that were not captured in the fighting? Are there others like La Biche who surrendered?â
âOne otherâa Métisâwho was found in the willows along the riverbank. He had a knife on his person.â
âAnd what was he doing?â asked Durrant.
âHe says he was just sitting. His name is Jacques Lambert. Heâs not well in the head. Cut his own wrists there on the banks of the river. Middletonâs doctor had to bandage them. The man is under guard in the infirmary.â
âWhere is the murder weapon,