Free The Third Riel Conspiracy by Stephen Legault Page A

being in charge of the horses, he would have been given a proper burial by the Dominion. Middleton won’t be happy. He stands on ceremony.”
    â€œWould he have been taken back to Regina?” asked Durrant.
    â€œUnlikely, unless someone did it clandestinely. There has been no official movement south since before the ninth of May. If someone did take him that way, it’s for reasons passing my understanding,” said Saul.
    â€œWhy would someone abscond with the corpse of Reuben Wake? With the case supposedly open and shut against our Mr. La Biche, why disappear with the body?” asked Durrant.
    â€œSomeone has something to hide, lads,” said Garnet.
    â€œWe need to find out who, and what,” concluded Durrant.
    IT WAS MIDAFTERNOON when they walked back through the ravine and up the hill toward the rectory. They had missed the midday meal, and they were ready to retire to the zareba for a brief rest before resuming their inquiry when the door to the church burst open and a man in black robes came toward them. Garnet and Durrant each had their rifles aimed at the man before he could take two steps. Durrant held his Winchester 73 short-barrelled rifle with one hand. “Hold fast!” he called, and the man in black came to a stop, his face white and his eyes as big as saucers.
    â€œState your business!” Garnet held his weapon easily against his shoulder, his face relaxed as he took careful aim.
    â€œMy business is God,” said the man, holding out his arms in a gesture of supplication.
    â€œIf you are armed you’ll have the privilege of meeting him,” said Durrant, lowering the Winchester. “Step forward. Who are you?”
    â€œMy name is Father André Lefèbvre. I am a priest. I am assigned to the mission at St. Laurent, up that trail.” He pointed over his shoulder at the track that headed north through La Jolie Prairie. “I am here in Batoche as I often am to minister to the Métis.”
    â€œHave you been here through the fighting?” Durrant asked, as Garnet lowered his rifle.
    â€œI have, and for several weeks before. These are my people, and I had to watch over them.”
    â€œWhat can we do for you? You seem agitated, Father Lefèbvre,” said Durrant.
    â€œI got word that there were men in the woods robbing graves, so I meant to come out and put a stop to such wickedness.”
    â€œWe’re not grave robbers. We were searching for a recent burial, but we didn’t find what we were looking for.”
    â€œThe Métis are to be buried in a common grave over on the plain.” The priest pointed toward the cemetery. He turned back to look at Durrant. “Who is it that you are looking for?”
    Durrant looked at Saul and then at Garnet. “We’re looking for a man who was murdered on the last day of fighting in the field force’s encampment. His name was Reuben Wake.” At the mention of the name the priest’s face went pale, and he crossed himself. “You know this man?” asked Durrant, stepping forward.
    â€œQue le Seigneur ait pitié! God have mercy on my soul. I know this man. He was the devil himself.”
    THEY SAT IN the church, the three inquisitors on a bench that had most recently been used as a gurney for the wounded, and Father Lefèbvre on their right. The room was warm and smelled of incense and pine. Though none said it, it felt good to be indoors and warm.
    Durrant studied the priest. He guessed the man to be seventy, though he looked healthy. “Tell us about this man, the one you call the devil,” commanded Durrant.
    â€œHe was as Lucifer,” said the priest, shaking his head and clasping his hands before himself.
    â€œSo you say, but in what manner?”
    The priest drew a deep breath. “I don’t know how much I should tell you, to be honest. You are a Mounted Policeman, are you not? You have Terrance La Biche in chains. Mr. La Biche was