Belle of Batoche Read Free Page A

his son Pierre went to school with Belle. Pierre also sang in the choir at church.
    â€œMonsieur Riel has sent a petition to Prime Minister Macdonald with our demands, but nothing is happening,” Monsieur Caron was saying when Belle returnedwith a plate of freshly baked bannock and Saskatoon preserves.
    â€œThey want to survey our land in the English way, so that we will not have access to the river. Impossible! We also want representation in the Canadian Parliament, which the government won’t give us.” Belle had heard these arguments before. She knew they were serious matters.
    â€œAnd don’t forget the government wants to tax us too!” Patrice added, reaching for a piece of bannock.
    â€œAfter the battle at Duck Lake, they will not listen to us,” her father said. “Lives have been lost on both sides, but the English will only remember their own dead.”
    Patrice put his cup down so hard some spilt over the edge into the saucer. “Then perhaps Monsieur Riel is right. We Metis should break away from Canada and form our own country where we can live in peace.”
    Belle’s mother motioned for her to leave and, reluctantly, she started up the stairs to bed. Sometimes when the men talked, she got a tight knot in her stomach. Shetried not to be afraid, but all the adults talked about lately were the troubles and how things were getting worse.
    Early Sunday morning, Marie-Antoinette’s clear voice called the people of Batoche to mass at St. Antoine de Padoue church.
    Belle had taken special care with her braids this morning. She had even tried to shine her scuffed shoes. She’d put on her best green dress, the one her mother had embroidered with beautiful flowers so that it looked like a piece of a summer meadow had come to life.
    She was excited as she sat in the pews at the side of the altar with the rest of the choir. Her parents and brother were in their usual seats. Her mother looked lovely in her black hat and Sunday dress and her father was positively handsome in his Sunday suit. Belle felt a surge of love for her parents.
    She glanced at the rest of the children in the two choir pews. They didn’t seem to be the least bit excited. But then, she thought,they weren’t going to be named the new bell ringer.
    Miss Dorval walked over and called them to attention by tapping her ever-present ruler on the front railing of the pew. “Children, I have an announcement which I know you will all be very happy about.” Unease mixed with Belle’s excitement. “I am pleased to introduce to you our newest choir member, Miss Sarah Johnson.” She nodded toward the congregation and Sarah, who had been sitting with her parents, stood up and marched over. She looked very pretty in her expensive gray wool coat with pink trim and she was wearing her new hat with the magical feather.
    Shooting a triumphant grin at Belle, Sarah took a seat beside Pierre Caron, who was by himself in the front choir pew.
    Belle’s temper flared before she remembered where she was. This was a church, not the place to think bad thoughts. Instead, Belle turned to her hymnbook and smiled. Beside her, Marie Savant, who had a beautiful voice, nudged Belle with her elbow and giggled. Belle’s smile widened just a little.
    Pierre Caron was a nice enough fellow, but he was not a favorite of the other choir singers. He was nicknamed Windy Caron. Pierre had a digestion problem that made him not only noisy to stand beside, but impossible to breathe around. When Windy got wound up, no one could sing beside him.
    The congregation rose as Father Moulin entered. There was a muffled rumble from the front pew. Sarah made a choking sound, then glared at Pierre, her hand flying to her nose.
    â€œBefore we get started today, mes amis, I have an announcement.” Father Moulin walked over to stand beside the choir. “As you know, we have been searching for a young person to be the