Sundance 19 by Peter McCurtin

Author:Peter McCurtin [McCurtin, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: metis, halfbreeds, tomahawk, western frontier fiction, jim sundance, peter mccurtin, jon benteen, red river uprising, the red river rebellion, the red river resistance
Publisher: Piccadilly Publishing
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Thirteen

The cold northern dawn was breaking when Sundance, Dumont, and fifty mounted métis, all seasoned frontiersman, saw Duck Lake up ahead through the whirling snow. The wind whipped through the pines, penetrating their thick wool clothing and fur-lined boots. Men and horses were blinded by snow as they plowed through the deepening drifts. Halfway between Batoche and Fort Carlton, the lake shone like silver in the weak half-light of the morning sun. Willows and poplars fringed the lake on all sides. On the far side of the lake were the log houses that contained the food, rifles, ammunition, and other supplies stored for use by the Mounties and the militia.

Wiping snow from his eyes, Dumont said, “It looks like we got here first, but we’d better make sure. One of my men in Fort Carlton said Superintendent Crazier was getting ready to seize the stores some time today.”

“Makes sense,” Sundance said. Dumont had just sent two men ahead to check for an ambush, and Sundance watched while their outlines became lost in the falling snow. Once they raided the supply camp, the métis would be in open rebellion against the government of Canada, as he would himself, Sundance knew. Before it was over, he might hang for it. So far, he hadn’t come up with a plan that seemed to have any chance of working.

The two scouts rode back and reported that the camp was deserted. Dumont nodded. “So we win the first fight of this war. This is where it begins.” The big métis shrugged. “Or where it ends.”

They rode around the edge of the lake that was now beginning to thaw in the center. There were two log houses there, shuttered against the ice and wind. Both doors were secured with heavy padlocks. Dumont broke both locks with a hatchet, and they went in out of the cold. Rifles and boxes of ammunition took up most of the space in the first house; in the other, canned goods were stacked on shelves from floor to ceiling, with smoke-cured ham and frozen sides of beef hung from hooks. A rough table was piled high with blankets.

“We won’t go hungry or cold, not for a while,” Dumont said. “Those Lee-Metford bolt actions will make the Canadians wish they had let us go in peace.”

Sundance picked up one of the fast-firing British made military rifles. He tested the action; the short-pull bolt slid back and forth smoothly. “A fine gun,” he agreed.

Dumont told his men to start loading the sleighs. “Don’t overload. Take what you can, then throw the rest in the lake. We’ll burn the houses before we move out.”

The sleighs were about half loaded when a young métis on a winded horse came galloping from the other side of the lake. He jumped down, yelling, “Crozier and a big party of Mounties and militia are coming up fast. They have a seven pound gun.”

“How fast?” Dumont asked.

“Not much more than an hour, Gabriel. What are you going to do?”

“Ambush them,” Dumont said calmly.

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