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simple to lay the blame on this La Biche fellow. I should like to know at least what his motive was before we go and hang him.”
    â€œI should like to find this Jacques Lambert and ask him of his whereabouts this afternoon. Where are these men now?” Durrant asked.
    â€œTerrance La Biche is locked in a makeshift stockade here in the compound and under guard. Sub-Inspector Dickenson won’t let you see him.”
    â€œWho is this Dickenson?”
    â€œHe’s with F Division out of Regina; he’s taken control of the prisoner and won’t let others near the man. Refused me access to assess his health.”
    Durrant rubbed his whiskers, wondering what it was that made a man turn into a horse’s ass as soon as he reached the rank of sub-inspector. “What of Lambert?”
    â€œHe’s in the infirmary. This man I have attended to. He was captured yesterday along the banks of the river, below our camp. I believe he may have tried to kill himself.”
    â€œFirst I’ll look in on La Biche, and then you and I will visit Lambert.”
    Saul shook his head. “I suppose it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve tried to pull rank on a superior officer, Durrant. Be careful. Powerful emotions have been stirred up with this rebellion. The fighting might be over at Batoche, at Duck Lake and Fish Creek, but the feud smoulders all around. There is something in the death of Reuben Wake that makes me fear that all of the blood over Riel’s rebellion has yet to be spilled.”
    The conversation returned to a congenial tone as the men began swapping stories of their adventures. Saul slapped the side of his leg. “I almost forgot to mention it, Durrant. Garnet is here!”
    â€œHe is!”
    â€œHe arrived two days ago. He’s formed up with the Surveyors Intelligence Corps, a bunch of men from the Dominion Land Survey who took up the call at the outbreak of trouble. They have proven themselves quite useful in a pinch, helping out today at La Jolie Prairie, and then on the final charge into the village.”
    â€œIs Garnet safe?”
    â€œWho knows? When Riel and Dumont fled during the last minutes of the battle, Garnet took a group of men in pursuit. He could be halfway to Montana by now for all I know.”
    â€œIt will be good to see him once more. I hope that I shall.”
    â€œYou know how Garnet is; one moment he’s there, the next he’s gone. He’ll be glad to see you, I’m sure. And he’ll be very interested in the discovery of this body in the zareba today. You know how he is: all questions of means, motive, and opportunity.”

FOUR
THE INQUIRY BEGINS
    MAY 13, 1885. BATOCHE.
    He was there when Durrant awoke. Durrant lay curled in a blanket on the cold ground inside the zareba. There was a fire kindled and Garnet Moberly was sitting on an upturned crate, his Martini-Henry rifle cradled in his lap and his twin Webley revolvers holstered over a thick canvas coat. His face was partially obscured by the wide-brimmed hat favoured by the Surveyors Intelligence Corps.
    â€œThere’s coffee,” he said when Durrant stirred. “It’s fresh.”
    Durrant was cold through to his bones. He’d been sleeping rough with just a pair of wool blankets for the last ten nights, having travelled light since leaving the train at Swift Current. If he was surprised to find Garnet at his side that morning, Durrant didn’t show it.
    â€œCoffee would be good.” Durrant sat up stiffly. Garnet used a rag to lift the blackened pot from the flames and poured a cup of thick coffee for Durrant, who let the heat of the tin cup warm him. “It’s good to see you, Garnet.” Durrant placed his Enfield and his snub-nosed British Bulldog revolver next to him as he pulled his prosthetic from under the blankets. “Mind if I warm my leg before I put it on?”
    â€œNot at all, lad.”
    â€œI take it you and your men