Blood Upon Our Land Read online

  When we returned home, Louise took to her bed. She said the movement of the wagon had upset her stomach a little. She insisted that it was nothing, but it seemed like something to me. Perhaps some tea will help settle her stomach. I will stop writing and see to it.

  Le 26 avril 1885

  People are beginning to abandon their houses. Some women are digging hiding places in or near the riverbank. Others are preparing to camp in a sheltered area surrounded by bluffs. The nights are so cold. I fear they will freeze.

  We will remain here. None of us will consider abandoning our home.

  Au point du jour

  I have had a dream, a horrible dream. Most of it is gone now, thank Le Boon Jeu, but enough of it remains. Even when I squeeze my eyes closed, I can still see the men digging the long deep pits. It was no one from here who was digging, though. It was men in red coats, men with silver eyes. One of them looked at me, and even though he did not speak, I could hear his words in my head. Do not worry, Josephine, he said. I am digging a fine deep one for you.

  That was when I woke. I know now that the soldier was not digging a hiding place for me. He was digging a grave.

  Le 27 avril 1885

  Our men take turns searching the countryside for Middleton’s army. Only when the scouting parties return and Papa or Moushoom or Edmond or Adrian walk into the kitchen does my heart slow.

  Le 29 avril 1885

  Indian women and children are now coming in to Batoche too, although there are few warriors. Only White Cap and perhaps twenty of his men are camped just north of Batoche.

  We, like our neighbours, have had to give many of our cattle to help feed all of these people. Papa did this willingly but I know he is worried. It is not just the cattle. We have made no preparations at all to plant this year’s crops. Monsieur Dumont has decreed that no man will till the soil. The temptation to farm rather than fight might be too great.

  By now the kitchen garden should have been planned, the seeds readied. Knowing this, Louise and I pulled away the mulch and spent the afternoon picking through the seeds. She could barely do the work, though. Her face became slick with sweat, she said her stomach felt sick, and so went back into the house. It worries me to see her feeling so unwell.

  Le 30 avril 1885

  The thought of no food is frightening, but so is the fact that there is little ammunition for the guns of our soldiers, though we hear that many of the women have been melting down their pots and making as many bullets as they can. Moushoom has a fine rifle. Adrian and Papa are well armed, but some of our men have only old-fashioned muskets or duck guns. They are good enough for hunting, but if you are hunting men

  I must not think of people in that way. Our soldiers will defend us honourably in the eyes of Le Boon Jeu.

  Middleton’s army has modern guns. Edmond has described them to me. They have cannon and something called a Gatling gun. Some of the men are saying that the Gatling gun is just so much rababoo, perhaps because of the noise they have heard that it makes. Edmond says that the Gatling gun does not fire. Instead, it spits out bullets, hundreds and hundreds in less than a minute. Compared to those soldiers, we may as well be armed with brooms.

  No one said anything. The picture Edmond had put into our heads was too much. Armand stood, went to the corner, and picked up the kitchen broom, shouting that he was ready!

  Poor little Armand.

  Mai 1885

  Le 1 mai 1885

  Mama’s watch has stopped, an unimportant thing, I know. Papa says we must take it to a watch-maker in Prince Albert that Louise once mentioned. Northgraves is the name of the shop.

  It is a small thing, but no longer being able to hear the watch’s ticking is almost as though its heart has stopped.

  Le 2 mai 1885

  The river rose very quickly last night. Branches and logs floated past at a great speed. May this evil time pass the same way.

  Le 3 mai 1885

  Louise and Papa have argued. When Armand and his friends argue, there is a great deal of screaming and sometimes pinches and slaps, but that was not the case with Papa and Louise. There were no raised voices, yet I could still tell they were in disagreement.

  It did not make for a very comfortable evening. Even Moushoom could feel the difference. Finally, he said he was going for a walk — if it was summer, he would almost swear a storm was coming, and perhaps he should get out the rameaux and throw some into the stove.

  Plus tard

  More arguing, and this time it truly was like a storm. Papa wants to take us — Armand, Louise and me — to Louise’s sister in Prince Albert, and not for the sake of the watch, either. He wants to leave us there until the trouble has passed. I know he is only trying to protect us, but it is more important for the family to remain together. I will not go. If I have to hide in the woods and eat leaves, I will not go!

  Encore plus tard

  Papa and I have just spoken. I apologized for my disobedience and shouting. Then I reminded him of what people had said just before the fighting at Duck Lake, that if they had to die for their country they would all die together. When I told Papa that I understood those words now, and that I felt the same way, tears came to his eyes and to mine. His words made me cry even harder.

  “My good brave Josephine,” he said. “You are so much like your mother.”

  Tears. They hurt so much and yet when they are gone, you feel healed somehow.

  Le 4 mai 1885

  Only Moushoom remained behind today, for it was not his turn to go on patrol. The weather has turned warmer, but still he sat in the kitchen near the stove, Gárso Zhounn within reach as he wove his sash. Louise worked slowly on her knitting, and I held Mama’s rug, although I had no heart to do any hooking. Armand for once was still, contenting himself with stroking Moon’s head. It was all peaceful enough until Louise stood suddenly and went to the bedroom. She shut the door, but still I could hear the sound of her vomiting into a washbasin. The troubles have upset her that much, I thought. When Armand said that maybe Louise had eaten too many bengs, Moushoom smiled and told Armand to go down to the cabin and get his pipe.

  His third wife, my grandmother, was like that, Moushoom told me when Armand was gone. I had never heard any stories about my grandmother eating too many bengs and then vomiting, but I suppose it is possible. Anything is. But then Moushoom said this — and I have written it exactly as he said it: “When she carried your papa in her belly, her stomach was sick almost the whole time. And she craved the livers of freshwater cod. Oh how she craved them! Then one morning he was born right there on the prairie when we were all out on the buffalo hunt. It was a relief to see that new baby, I will tell you. I was worried that when your papa finally emerged, he would have fins and gills! The women who helped your grandmother with the birth found that very amusing, as I recall.”

  Then he added that I should close my mouth, since with it hanging open I looked too much like a cod.

  I felt so many things at that moment. Embarrassment, excitement and understanding all battled with each other. What a silly girl I was not to have read the signs. Not that I knew them so well, but Nohkom LaBute had poured tea in this house not long after the wedding. Everyone knows that when a woman pours tea in another woman’s home, the wife of the house will soon become pregnant. Just then, Armand rushed in with Moushoom’s pipe and Louise came out of the bedroom, her face as pale as milk.

  I have thought about this all day and evening. I could not help but watch Papa when he and the others came home, but Papa looked the same. It is not he who will change, I suppose. It must be the reason he wants us to go to Prince

  Plus tard

  Louise knocked on my door a few minutes ago. She had something to tell me, she said. Not the baby. She knew that I was old enough to understand such things, after all. Babies were just part of life. It was the other matter, the matter of Prince Albert.

  She will not go. This child will be born here in Batoche, in our house, and not even General Middleton c
an change that. He had best think twice before crossing Louise Pepin Bouvier’s path. And Josephine’s, she added.

  I embraced her then, not as my mother, but as the mother of my unborn brother or sister, and as a friend.

  Le 5 mai 1885

  Papa brought this from Monsieur Letendre’s store today. It was in a Winnipeg newspaper.

  I suppose that people in Winnipeg are cheering us on. I do not see what there is to laugh about, though.

  There has been no more talk of leaving.

  Le 6 mai 1885

  It is likely that every woman in Batoche knows about Louise’s pregnancy, especially since Nohkom LaBute came to visit today. Mama used to say that Nohkom made her think of a dandelion that scatters its seeds everywhere as soon as even a puff of wind touches it. That is how Nohkom scatters news.

  She also brought news, though. Madame Riel sent her congratulations, one pregnant woman to another. Yes, Nohkom told us, Marguerite Riel is with child. And with her congratulations, she had sent a gift for Louise’s baby, a tiny pair of wristlets that she had crocheted from blue and white yarn.

  Marguerite Riel must be a very kind woman to think of Louise at a time such as this, with war threatening. Moushoom says that women fight a different sort of war when they are with child. Their spirits do battle for the little one inside of them.

  I must try to be more helpful to Louise.

  Le 7 mai 1885

  Middleton’s army is very close. Word has reached us that his men are breaking into farmhouses and looting them, and what they cannot carry away, they destroy. Not even the white settlers are safe from those soldiers. It takes all my will to keep the worry I am feeling hidden inside me.

  They burned Gabriel Dumont’s house and tore down his stable. Nothing remains. They took his billiard table, Madame Dumont’s washing machine, and even some of her clothing onto the Northcote! What will an army do with a washing machine and woman’s clothing? For shame! As for the Northcote, it is now an army steamer and Monsieur Dumont has told Papa that it will surely be used against us. Papa says the army will be here soon, and that we are to take heart and place our trust in Le Boon Jeu. He says the Northcote is in for a big surprise.

  Tard le soir

  I can almost smell the fear that hangs over Batoche.

  Le 8 mai 1885

  A difficult day. Papa and the others are gone, for they are part of our army. Monsieur Dumont has planned Batoche’s defence, and all the men are needed to carry it out. Moushoom said that we must keep the dogs close, that Moon will defend us.

  The waiting is terrible. I want the fighting to begin so that it will be over with, yet I do not want it to begin at all. No wanting will keep Middleton away, though. No prayers will slow him and his soldiers. Oh, to be a man so that I too could fight!

  Le 9 mai 1885

  At around eight o’clock this morning, the Northcote passed by our farm. In happier times, Armand and I would stand on the riverbank, Armand gesturing and shouting to the captain so that he would blow the whistle. Not today. Today we watched in silence from an upstairs window as the steamer and two barges passed by. When the steamer was almost at the church, our men fired from both sides of the river. The Northcote slowed — perhaps it had hit one of the sandbars — and then it happened. The surprise! Our men drew up a stout cable that they had stretched across the river and down came the steamer’s smokestacks. Away it floated.

  We heard the sound of a soldier’s bugle, and the battle began in earnest. That was when we hurried downstairs to where Papa had told us to go. We sat on the floor at the back wall of the house, hoping the stove would give us protection. The dogs huddled near us, trembling and panting — all except Moon, who just stared ahead calmly. Now and again, there would be a whiz or a thump as bullets hit or nicked the house, and then poor little Eagle would whine.

  Louise sat with a hand over her belly. Armand put his fingers in his ears and squeezed his eyes shut.

  Nothing will happen to us, I told myself again and again. I should scratch that out, for the truth is that I have never been so afraid in all my life, never so certain I would be killed, and yet the fear I felt for Papa and the others was greater.

  Later, when it was dark and the battle had stopped, Adrian crept home to give us news and assure us that Papa, Moushoom and Edmond were unharmed. To my shame, I burst into tears upon hearing this, and I know my shame must have showed. My face was so hot.

  Adrian paid no attention, only saying that Gabriel had hoped for more but it was still a victory, for the Northcote had fled with its tail between its legs. He insisted that the battle had been fun! What if the soldiers did fire their cannons? Not one Métis was killed. In fact, Adrian and the others had amused themselves by making dummies and using them to draw the enemy’s fire. It had worked, for the dummies were now filled with bullets. And the bravery of our men! Some of them tried to capture one of the Gatling guns. That they failed was meaningless, for it was the trying that counted.

  Père Moulin had been shot in the leg, although it was not a serious wound. The priests had run up a white flag on the church, Adrian said. They had surrendered — the cowards — and for all he knew were giving information to Middleton. Adrian said he would tell Papa we were fine. Then he snatched up a piece of galet and was gone, asking us to pray for them all.

  Surely the priests and nuns will not abandon us!

  Plus tard

  Louise says that my tears are nothing to be ashamed of. All they mean is that I have a tender heart, and that I love my family greatly.

  Louise. I think that perhaps she also deserves some of that love.

  Le 10 mai 1885

  More fighting. I am so afraid for our men.

  Plus tard

  Edmond came to us tonight with a message from Papa. They are very short of ammunition and so we are to melt down everything that can be used to make bullets for them. There must be something left. This we did with Edmond’s help, melting down the foil from old tea chests, some tin plates and even our teakettles.

  Edmond said that Monsieur Dumont is having our men pick up bullets and cartridge belts that the enemy have dropped. And, of course, they take the guns of the dead. I wish he had not told us that.

  If anything

  Juin 1885

  Juin

  Le 25 juin 1885

  I never thought to see Edmond Swift Fox again, much less this diary, after more than a month. But there he was this morning, although now he has left us once more. And the news he brought! I cannot stand

  Plus tard

  Write it all, Moushoom told me when I began this diary. It seems so long ago that he said those words. The very thought of all the things that have happened, and the fact of Edmond’s return, so moved my heart that writing was beyond me. Now I have settled myself, and I think I may be able to do what my grandfather once instructed. Write it all.

  To do so I must return to last month, and I would rather never have seen this diary again than do that. But I am an obedient granddaughter.

  So. That night in mai, Moushoom ran into the house and interrupted my writing. Edmond was with him. Moushoom told us that Monsieur Riel planned to send a letter to Middleton, insisting that if any women or children were killed, he would massacre the white prisoners that the Métis were holding.

  Moushoom said that Papa did not trust Middleton, though, and neither did he, so we must go down to the river immediately and hide in Armand’s cave, his Fort Bouvier behind the cabin. There was to be no argument. We were to leave everything behind.

  I remember how I felt just then. Afraid, of course, but with that fear was anger. This was my home. How could I just hand it over to Middleton?

  Moushoom meant his words, though. He did not even give me time to take my diary as he and Edmond pulled us out of the house, past his cabin and into Armand’s fort.

  “Stay here,” Moushoom ordered. “Do not come out no matter what you hear.”

  I could hardly bear it when Moushoom left, saying he would
not let his son and grandson fight alone, that the Bouviers would stand together. “Keep your will strong, Josephine,” he whispered. I told him that I would. But then Edmond said that if he were to die, he would die at the side of those he loved, and my will failed me. I wept, saying

  Plus tard

  I have wept again at those memories.

  So. Back to that day in mai again. At first, it was dark. Then the sun rose, and so did the sounds of the fighting.

  It was the same the next day as the Gatling gun clattered, the cannon roared and the cries of wounded and dying men haunted us. Two days passed. I crept to Moushoom’s cabin by darkness. There was water in a jug and those few vegetables in the cellar, but we used them sparingly. Even Armand did not complain. Louise and I held him between us, and I know we gave him strength. We prayed together, and so hard did I entreat God and all the saints that most of the sounds had stopped before I even noticed.

  It was then that we heard Moushoom outside, cursing.

  We climbed from the cave, peeked through the trees, and saw

  Encore plus tard

  So hard to write this.

  The soldiers had taken what they wanted, and then set fire to our house and Louise’s house, the stable and barn. Even from where we hid in the trees I could see them carrying off our belongings and food. One soldier had a cooking pot on his head, and was wearing Papa’s finest coat, the one Mama had embroidered. Chairs, the table, our dishes — all lay broken in the yard. Our mattresses and pillows had been cut open and the feathers scattered everywhere.

  I might have stood all this, even though my anger was so great. We ran to Moushoom and as we did so, he fell to his knees, weeping over the bodies of his dogs. Bone, Willow and even little Eagle were dead, shot by the soldiers. Moushoom was sure they had died fighting. Of Moon, there was no sign. And where were Papa, Edmond and Adrian? we all asked at once.