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372 pages, Paperback
First published September 30, 2017
Old Joseph Ouellette – who had ridden with the legendary buffalo hunter Cuthbert Grant at the Battle of Seven Oaks – began a song about the hunts, acting out the parts with tossing horns and pawing hoofs. He finished the last verse with arms raised and the crowd clapping him on.
“Now old men and wives come out with the carts
There's meat against hunger and fur against cold
Gather full store for the pemmican bags
Garner the booty of warriors bold!”
Riel was a conundrum. One moment she had dismissed him as a religious fanatic and in the next he had moved her with his compassion and demand for justice. She wanted her lands as much as anyone. And none other than Gabriel Dumont was on his side. But how could she follow a man who believed the Métis were the children of Israel? It was an impossible dream. Creating a sovereign nation ruled by Métis and Indians with his church at its head. Macdonald would no sooner agree to a separate state than the Métis would leave their beloved Catholic Church.
He could see that she was crying and he reached to her, his hand careful, detached, brushing the coarse wool of the shawl over her thin shoulder. He had not bargained for the feel of her, and his heart beat wildly in his chest. Lifting his hand, he let it drop, fingers hesitating at the fringes of her shawl. It was quiet among the trees, only the sound of digging out on the meadow, the men talking among themselves. He should have pulled his hand away, but let it slip beneath the fringe, a quiver at the tips of his fingers as they traced the line of her back, followed the curve of her waist. The top of her head was only inches away. She had become very still, almost not breathing, a slight resistance then turning into him, the smell of her, like woodsmoke and the river when the ice broke up in spring. She looked up at him, a strand of her black hair caught in a sudden lift of wind. The moon had come out and rained light through the bare branches, onto those eyes, dark and unfathomable. He touched her cheek, still wet with tears.