The Third Riel Conspiracy Read Free Page B

Enfield’s explosion was consumed by the storm. Wallace’s shot found its mark on the man’s right arm and his pistol dropped into the muddy street. The man bent and gripped his wound.
    â€œWelcome to the Dominion of Canada. You’re under arrest.”
    THERE WAS THE expected confrontation at the North West Mounted Police fort. Durrant stood in the lockup, his prisoner behind bars in the adjoining room and his supervisor, his uniform hastily pulled on, standing before him. Sub-Inspector Raymond Dewalt had been sleeping when Durrant rode into the compound of the fort. Durrant’s prisoner was in shackles and was led by a short rope tethered to the pommel of his saddle. The constable on night watch had roused Dewalt, and once the prisoner was behind bars the sub-inspector confronted Durrant. “What were you doing going after this man alone, Wallace?” Dewalt hissed.
    â€œI saw my chance and I took it, sir.”
    â€œYou could have gotten yourself killed! Or worse, you could have killed a civilian with your reckless behaviour. I thought you and I were clear that there was to be no discharge of a firearm within the limits of the town of Calgary.”
    Durrant broke open the rotating cylinder of the Colt pistol he had taken from his prisoner and emptied the cartridges from it onto the table. “Someone forgot to tell that to our man back there.”
    â€œDon’t play smart with me, Sergeant. We’re not on the open range here; it would have been just as easy for you to wait until morning when we could have sent constables to arrest your man as he took his breakfast.”
    Durrant snapped the cylinder closed. “Inspector, our men here in Calgary are stretched thin. Nobody knows that better than you. With the rebellion and fears that the Cree might strike along the frontier, our constables are at their wits’ end trying to cover the territory and keep the peace in this town. If I’d waited for there to be a contingent of men, this ruffian might have slipped back across the border. He might see that Calgary is an easy place to profit from thievery and moonshining. I saw the chance and I took it.”
    Dewalt watched the sergeant lock the pistol in a desk drawer and wipe his hands on his coat. “You could have been killed,” the sub-inspector protested weakly. “How would I explain that?”
    â€œYour troubles with me would have been over.”
    DURRANT STOOD IN the fort’s jail. The doctor had just left and the prisoner was looking angrily at the sergeant, cradling his bandaged right arm with his left hand. “What’s your name?” Durrant asked.
    â€œI ain’t telling you a goddamned thing.”
    Durrant looked around as if to inspect the cell. “Who are you stealing horses with?” The prisoner sat staring at Durrant through the bars. “You come up from Fort Benton country. We’ve got a report from Fort Macleod that you trailed twenty head of horses through there ten days ago. We’ve got half a dozen men in this area who say that you sold them horses under false pretenses. Forged papers from a breeder in Pincher Creek.”
    â€œYou got nothing to hold me on. And you shot up my arm!”
    Durrant continued. “There’s a bunch of men in this town that are pretty riled up about parting with their cash and getting stolen horses in return. Buck Stilton is one of them. Maybe you don’t know Buck, but he’s one tough customer. Last year he punched a man in a bar fight so hard that he split the man’s skull right open. Buck doesn’t like to be messed with. I’ve told Mr. Stilton that you’re here and he’s wondering if he might see you about those horses you sold him. Mr. Stilton says he’d like to have a conversation about getting his money back.”
    Durrant stepped closer to the bars and dangled a set of keys. He slid one of them into the lock of the cell door and opened