Footsteps in the Snow Read online

  And then a shot rang out. I could not see who had fired first. White Loon threw herself over me and for the next while — I do not know how long although it felt like an eternity — we remained frozen. There was the horrible sound of men crying out in pain, shots fired, men shouting to one another and general chaos and mayhem. I clearly heard the Governor’s voice as he begged for his life, saying he was not mortally wounded should they fetch the surgeon. But there was more gunfire and then his voice fell silent.

  I finally pushed White Loon’s hand away in time to see Alice’s father and another man I did not recognize running low to the ground from tree to tree so that the Métis would not notice them. They passed so close to where we were hiding we could have touched them as they ran past us. I prayed to God that they would escape. I heard a splash of water, and saw that they were paddling toward the Fort, keeping close to the bank.

  Finally, after what felt like hours, as the sky began to darken White Loon said, “We must go to the Fort. I think the men have gone. Do not look over there. You will see only death.” She took my hand. “Now, while we have the chance.”

  When I stood my legs crumpled beneath me. She had to support me. But I reminded myself that Mother always taught me to be unafraid and I determined that these murderers would not make me cower for one more minute. So I held her hand and we ran along the river, travelling to the Fort that way rather than along the road.

  When we reached the Fort the first person I saw was Father, waiting by the gates. When he saw us his entire countenance was flooded with relief. White Loon and I ran into his arms.

  “Are my brothers safe?” I gasped.

  Yes,” he replied, “safe here with me.” He hurried us toward the large building where everyone was gathered. “Where have you been? We’ve been so worried!”

  “We were by the river,” I said. Then I stopped and turned to White Loon. “You took good care of me,” I said. “Thank you.”

  She smiled and her whole face brightened.

  “You are my daughter, sister. I will always take care of you and your family.”

  “Your brothers have come looking for you,” Father said to White Loon. “Jumps is inside. Jeb Connor has just returned, soaking wet and telling terrible tales of a massacre.”

  I was happy to hear that Alice’s father had made it back safely.

  Father continued. “We saw the Métis coming and I hurried the boys to the Fort. We could not find you anywhere.”

  “We were right there, Father,” I said. “We were hidden under a willow right by Seven Oaks. The Governor is dead. So are the others with him.”

  “Kate’s father is one of them, I fear. She has just been told,” Father said.

  He hurried us into the main room where all the settlers were crammed together. Kate saw me, ran to me, grabbed me and began to sob and sob. I comforted her as best I could, surprised by this display of grief by a girl who had never expressed anything but scorn and contempt for all things, and whom I rarely saw say a word to her father or vice versa.

  She lies by me now, sleeping at my feet as I write, exhausted by her tears. Father managed to find me ink and a pen, and my diary seems undamaged, which is fortunate considering that I was lying on it for so long.

  The men are meeting, led now by the Sheriff, Alexander McDonell. They seem to have decided to defend Fort Douglas. We will not budge from here easily, not by the sound of the men.

  June 20

  Chief Peguis and his men have brought some of the bodies of those massacred back to the fort to be buried. Kate’s father is one of them and at least she can see him put in the ground. There will be a brief service shortly.

  Afternoon

  Cuthbert Grant, the leader of the Métis, has sent a message saying that if we do not surrender the Fort we will all be murdered! It is said that the North West Company recently appointed this Cuthbert Grant as Captain General of all the halfbreeds in the country. The man who brings this news is a Hudson’s Bay man called John Pritchard who survived the massacre.

  Robbie finds this all very exciting and wants to go and fight. James takes part in the deliberations with the older men. Alice weeps constantly, as does Kate, who will not leave my side, but I will not! I will not be afraid! I will not!

  June 21

  John Pritchard has circulated a petition encouraging capitulation. Father is furious. But most feel the threat of murder must be taken seriously, so almost all of the settlers have signed. Alexander McDonell agrees with Father, but they are in a minority and no one will listen. So the Sheriff has sent a message surrendering the Fort. Father rails against it, saying we have the big gun, they do not and we are in a Fort that cannot easily be breached.

  June 22

  I barely slept last night. Today Hudson’s Bay Company officials are making an inventory of everything here before handing the Fort over to the Métis. The women and children are still weeping over loved ones lost. Kate seems inconsolable.

  Later

  I’ve told Father that we must adopt Kate. I know that this is strange because I do not even like her, and although she sticks to me like a leech she does not seem to like me either, but who else does she have? White Loon agrees, saying Kate is not nice just as many little sisters are not nice — that is the way of little sisters. James does not seem too happy at the prospect, nor does Robbie, who says that she is “grouchy.”

  June 23

  Cuthbert Grant has gone back on his word and now says we cannot leave. He wants us to wait for officials of the North West Company from Qu’Appelle.

  Later

  Sheriff McDonell met with Cuthbert Grant and told him that if we wait for the officials from Qu’Appelle they will get credit for the victory over the Hudson’s Bay Company. Grant wants the credit, so he’s allowing us to leave. It was clever of the Sheriff to play on his vanity in such a way.

  We must leave today. We go to Hudson Bay and — I can barely believe this, never mind write it — back to our homeland. What grief this is to bear. Our little cabin will be burned, my garden will be destroyed. All Mother’s dreams for us, all the hardships we have endured — all for nothing?

  How could this happen?

  June 24

  We have departed. I sit by the fire. I can write only a few words. We set off in eight boats, taking what little we were able. Father and White Loon hurried back to the cabin and salvaged what they could, packing two of our trunks. Just like my hands when they become too cold, my feelings have become the same. Numb.

  June 26

  We were stopped by a group of Nor’Westers today. And what an unusual number of events, both amazing and frightening, then ensued. We saw their brigade boats coming toward us on the river, sails hoisted. Their sails were quickly lowered and they put to shore. As we drew parallel to them they called to us to stop and demanded that we put to shore as well. They did this with guns raised. We had no choice but to follow their orders. We did not know what fate would befall us at their hands and I had to force myself to try to stay calm. We had not negotiated with them and we did not have the protection of the Fort. Father muttered under his breath, “We should have stayed where we were protected. Did I not say so?” As we came close to the shore Kate exclaimed, “William! It is William!”

  “William?” I repeated.

  “My brother,” Kate said, eyes shining. “It is my brother!” And then I remembered that she did have a brother working for the North West Company, although she rarely spoke of him. Even when her father died she did not mention him, but perhaps she was afraid to remind us that her brother was a Nor’Wester after they had murdered so many of our people. Perhaps she herself was torn about his allegiance. But at that moment all those worries must have been set aside because her eyes glowed and tears threatened. As we pulled into shore she was one of the first to leap from the boat.

  “William! William!” she called.

  A young man turned around at the sound of her voice. “Kate!” he cried.

  She ran over
to him and then suddenly stopped as if she were about to throw her arms about him, but realized she could not. He put his hands on her shoulders and said something to her, which I could not hear. At that point she replied, speaking quickly, and then she seemed to crumple and he did put his arms about her. He helped her to a large log nearby and sat down with her, taking her hands in his. He was a tall lanky fellow whose ears stood out quite remarkably from a long thin face. But his manner seemed kind and I was very happy that Kate should find him.

  In the meantime we were told by those in charge, very brusquely, to get out of the boats, to pitch our tents, and to bring all our belongings onto land.

  In a low voice Father said to us, “They are looking for the correspondence that Colin Robertson obtained when he captured Duncan Cameron. It clearly shows the intent of the Nor’Westers to destroy our settlement, and would be damning in a court of law in England. Colin Robertson took a few pieces with him, but he left the majority at Fort Douglas, and the Nor’Westers are suspicious that we have brought it with us. If it is here anywhere we must hope they do not find it.”

  We unpacked the boats, then pitched our tent in a small clearing near the river, after which we lugged our trunks and belongings to the tent.

  “My name is Archibald McLeod,” said a stocky man with a very large voice. “Who is in charge here?”

  Sheriff McDonell stepped forward. “I am, sir,” he said. “Sheriff Alexander McDonell. And to what do we owe the pleasure of your company?”

  At this Archibald McLeod’s face grew very red and he exclaimed, “We will search all your belongings, sir.”

  Sheriff McDonell made a small low bow. This seemed to enrage their leader even more and he quickly ordered his men to start examining our things. They began to rummage through all of our trunks. They ascertained which was Governor Semple’s trunk, broke the lock and thoroughly searched it as well.

  As all this was going on Kate brought her brother over to meet us. “This is William,” she said, and then introduced each of us to him.

  “Kate has told me how well you have taken care of her,” William said to us, “and I find myself forever in your debt.” He looked very distraught. “I have just now learned of my father’s death. Unfortunately I have signed a contract with the North West Company for another two years, and will not be able to leave to take care of her. She tells me that you have offered to do so.” He paused and looked questioningly at Father.

  “Yes,” Father agreed, “we have and are most happy to do so.”

  Well, I thought to myself, perhaps we are not happy to do so, but what else can we do?

  Speaking in a quiet voice William said, “I am so sorry for these unfortunate events. I can tell you that when the North West Brigade left for The Forks they did not do so with the intention of murder. But feelings in the Company run high.” He went on to say that when Miles Macdonell proclaimed that no pemmican could be taken from the area, the Nor’Westers believed it was a direct insult to them. They believed that Lord Selkirk’s settlement was established by the Hudson’s Bay Company to put them out of business. And then they encouraged the Métis to see themselves as a separate nation and told them that their entire way of life was about to be destroyed by our settlement. “This is not an excuse for the violence,” he said, “but I offer you this as an explanation so you can better understand that all North West Company people, all Métis people, are not violent. I myself do not know what to do. It is my own Company that has killed my father, and yet I am still contracted to work for them.”

  Father put his hand on William’s shoulder. “You have no choice but to adhere to a contract,” Father said. “But just like Kate, you are welcome with us.” He paused. “Unfortunately I do not know where we will be. At this point it looks likely that we will be returning to Scotland. But Kate will write you and let you know where we are.”

  William grasped Father’s hand in his and shook it warmly. “Thank you,” he said, “you are very kind. My father was a good man, but never recovered after the death of my mother, and I am afraid life has been difficult for Kate. She has been too long kept from company and has had few that she could call friend. But I see that you have taken her in and shown her kindness, and am sure God will bless you for your acts.”

  Suddenly, dear diary, I saw Kate in such a different light. White Loon was no doubt correct in that Kate was perhaps trying to behave, or was behaving, as an annoying little sister. She had no skills at making friends since her father had kept her separated from people all these years, and she must have tried to ingratiate herself with me in the only way she knew how — in a way that would not hurt her pride. Her cheeks grew quite red as her brother talked and she did not contradict him, so I can only assume that what he said was correct. It also occurred to me how fortunate we were that Father decided to come out of his grief. It even seemed to me that perhaps White Loon was to be thanked, not censured.

  William was then ordered to help with Mr. McLeod’s search, so he took our leave and went to his work. The men of our party were all questioned. Some were even forced to empty their pockets and had to allow their clothes to be searched.

  We ate pemmican that night, and stayed the entire next day. Although there was little left to be searched, the Nor’Westers did search all over again.

  William spent evenings with us by the fire. And then we saw an entirely new Kate, who seemed like a different person in his presence. He told stories of their home in the Highlands. Kate shared her memories, we added ours. We sang songs from the Highlands, and it turns out that Kate and William have beautiful clear voices, just like songbirds.

  June 27

  We took our leave this morning and Kate wept as she waved good-bye to her brother. John Pritchard was arrested by the North West Company, as was another fellow. They were to be taken to Fort William. Archibald McLeod then said that if we ever returned to The Forks we would all be subject to the “penalty of death.” Murder, I say.

  As we got back on the boat and rowed away, Father looked at White Loon. She nodded and pulled a packet from beneath her dress.

  “The letters?” I breathed.

  “Yes,” said Father.

  I looked at White Loon in wonder. And now I vow never to think badly of her again. Had she been caught she certainly would have been arrested, perhaps worse. But she was so calm you never would have thought she was hiding important evidence.

  Another thought occurred to me as well. White Loon had left her own family behind without a tear, although it must have been wrenching for her.

  June 28

  We travel on Lake Winnipeg to Jack River House. We are hungry, tired, dispirited.

  July 1816

  July 3

  Terrible thunderstorms today. Had to make camp.

  Kate is like a different person. She sits quietly, has not made a nasty remark all day, smiles occasionally, and even joins in the conversation. It is a transformation I would not have credited even weeks earlier.

  July 7

  Dreadful weather. We cannot go into the open lake with our boats, as the winds are too strong. It is a tiring and long process to travel so near the banks where we cannot use the gusts of wind to push us ahead. The clouds hover above us and lightning crashes around us. Last night a tree right beside our tent was split in two and set on fire. Frantically we pulled our tent down and moved away from the fire, all the while being drenched by a mixture of hail and pelting rain. It was a miserable night.

  On the way south, last fall, we faced the difficulties with more courage because we were so full of hope and excitement for the future. But now these hardships are more difficult to tolerate and I find myself sunk in a black humour most of the time. Only White Loon seems to have retained her equanimity.

  Tonight it is calm for the moment, but the clouds refuse to go away. Even now I can hear thunder rumbling in the distance. Since Robbie’s Indian friends are no longer here he spends more time with Peter. They are, at the moment, collecting small rocks fro
m each spot where we camp, hoping to bring them back to Scotland. They call it their Rupert’s Land rock collection. Alice comes to our tent whenever possible, and although she does visit with me and Kate, she spends even more time chatting with James. She praised his artistic abilities so strongly that he promised to make her a necklace. She blushed and thanked him and now James, too, is collecting rocks, and busy on his new design. I think we are all trying to keep busy in some way or another, so as not to think about the dreadful events of the past few weeks. Or about our future.

  I never had a chance to make myself that skirt out of the hide I was given by Leaf Bud, but now in the evenings White Loon is helping me. It should be finished soon. Father and the other men often meet and talk after camp is set up about what to do once we get to Jack River.

  July 15

  We make slow progress. I have not been writing because there is little to report and I am working with White Loon on my skirt, which is now almost finished. And just in time, as my other one is literally in tatters. I could, of course, wear one of Mother’s dresses that I have made over for myself, but they are delicate and would last only a matter of days in this difficult and rough environment. Also, Father was unable to take all of our clothes. It was the same for the other settlers, so almost all of the women and children are wearing clothes that have practically turned into shreds. We are hoping that when we arrive at Jack River we will be able to buy material.