Belle of Batoche (8 page)

Belle became aware of a smoky haze in the air around her. “Oh no!” she whispered. Directly below her on the riverbank, the Johnson house was on fire! Flames licked the sides of the wooden building, reaching fiery tentacles toward the roof where, to Belle's horror, Sarah clung to the chimney, her brother Samuel slumped beside her.

Belle raced down the hill to the Johnson house.

“Sarah, you and Samuel must get down!” she screamed. “The fire is on the second floor and soon the roof will be gone!”

Sarah sobbed as she gripped the stone chimney for support. “There's no way down!” she cried. “Belle, please help us!”

“Where are your parents?” Belle called back, praying that they were not trapped inside.

“Gone,” Sarah wailed. “And the maid ran away when they … when they start- ed shooting.”

Her brother Samuel didn't look right to Belle. He wasn't moving. “Is Samuel hurt?” she called up. Why had their parents left them on such a day?

“He was asleep in his room, in all that smoke. He won't wake up.” Sarah touched her brother gently on the head. “I think he's going to die!” She began wailing even more loudly.

“Nonsense!” Belle called. “Sarah Johnson, you stop blubbering this minute! Your brother needs you.” Belle had to do something quickly. She could see the fire was spreading rapidly. “Where's your ladder?” she shouted, peering around the yard.

“I … I don't know,” Sarah cried, “maybe in the shed at the back.”

Belle ran to the shed, but the wooden ladder was too heavy for her to move by herself. She hurried back to Sarah.

“I'm going to get my parents,” she shouted. “Hang on!” Belle raced for her house. Please let Mama and Papa be there, she prayed as bullets whined around her and cannon balls exploded. Behind her, soldiers were coming up the road. She ran even faster.

Belle slammed through the back door and gasped with relief. Her mother was right there in the kitchen, packing supplies into an old carpetbag.

“Belle! Thank God!” Her mother rushed to her and gathered Belle in her arms. “Hurry, we must go to the church and hide. Where were you? I looked everywhere!”

“We can't hide, Mama. Sarah's house is on fire. Sarah and Samuel are trapped on the roof. We have to help them.” Belle looked into her mother's worried face. “Are Papa and Patrice here?” she asked, but she knew the answer.

“Non, child. They are with the men in the rifle pits.” Her mother shook her head, tears in her eyes. “All the men have gone to fight.”

Belle paused for only a moment to take in what her mother had told her. Then she grabbed her mother's hand and pulled her toward the door.

“But, Belle, where are their parents? It's not safe!”

“I don't know, Mama!” Belle cried. “We must go.” Belle tugged harder at her moth-er's hand, and at last her mother followed.

When they reached the Johnson's, the air was filled with smoke. Belle and her mother dragged the big wooden ladder from the
shed and managed to place it against the side of the burning building.

“Climb down, child!” Belle's mother called up to Sarah, coughing as a gush of smoke billowed out of a downstairs window. Flames licked the edges of the roof, eating through the wooden shingles.

Sarah looked at the ladder, then at her unconscious brother lying beside her on the roof. “I can't leave Samuel!” she shouted. “And he's too big for me to carry!” She started wailing again. Belle wished she would stop.

“Come down and I will get your brother!” Belle's mother said, bracing the bottom of the ladder. She looked up at the flames. “Hurry, Sarah! There's not much time.”

Rung by rung, her legs shaking, Sarah climbed down. When she reached the bottom, she stared at Belle. Her eyes looked strange, like someone dreaming. Sarah didn't seem like herself at all.

“Hold the ladder,” Belle's mother said as she started up.

Belle grabbed the ladder, but Sarah just stood, looking around blankly until Belle repeated her mother's instructions.

Sarah obeyed her without a word.

Please let Mama reach Samuel in time, Belle prayed as she watched her mother climb through the smoke. She was nearly at the top when a sudden blast of hot air and searing flames exploded out of the two upstairs windows.

Belle sucked in her breath and Sarah screamed as Belle's mother seemed to be caught in the explosion. The ladder swayed, but did not fall. Belle's mother had reached the roof.

Through the thick choking smoke, Belle saw her mother dragging Samuel across the roof then holding him against her shoulder as she started back down past the wall of flames.

She had just reached the bottom when, with a loud roar the roof collapsed, sending a shower of sparks and cinders high into the air.

“We must get to shelter, quickly!” Belle's mother said, still holding the unmoving Samuel. Her arms and hands were black with soot and the sleeves of her dress were in scorched tatters.

Through the gunfire and constant shelling, they started back to Belle's house, but before they could reach it, they saw soldiers riding toward them.

Belle looked around. There were troops closing in from all directions. They had nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide! She glanced back at her mother, struggling to carry Samuel, and Sarah who still seemed dazed.

She had an inspiration. “Come with me!” she shouted, turning to follow the trail that skirted the river. Her mother and Sarah hurried after her as she raced through the willows. As they ran, Belle kept a constant eye out for the government troops. When she had gone some distance along the path, Belle began looking for the hard to find spot on the hillside.

“Where are we going?” Sarah asked.

Belle heard the fear in Sarah's voice. “Someplace safe!” She tried to sound confident, but knew the soldiers were closing in. They had only moments before they would be seen crossing the prairie. Gunfire echoed in her ears and she could
smell smoke from the burning buildings. With a burst of speed, Belle sprinted across the open grass and scrambled up the side of the steep embankment.

She smiled with satisfaction as she spotted what she'd been looking for: the old root cellar door.

“Sarah, help me!” she said, tugging on the weathered wooden handle.

Belle and Sarah pulled with all their might until, with a groan, the door opened. “Quickly, go inside!” she instructed Sarah.

“But it's dirty and dark and there's probably spiders!” Sarah whimpered, sounding like a young child.

“There's a lot worse than that out here! Go on, Sarah, I'm right behind you!” Belle gave Sarah a gentle push that sent her tumbling into the dark root cellar. Belle's mother followed, Samuel still in her arms.

With one last look at the terrible battle taking place in her peaceful little town, Belle pulled the heavy door closed behind her.

13
Belle Takes Charge

The root cellar was dark and still damp with the late thawing ground. Belle was surprised at how large the man-made cave was.

“Are root cellars usually this big, Mama?” she asked, peering around in the gloom. She saw Sarah sitting, hugging her knees to her chest and rocking quietly back and forth.

Her mother placed Samuel gently on the ground. She inspected her surroundings. “This must be the old Belanger place. I remember the family moved to Batoche late in the year and had to live in the root cellar the first winter because they couldn't build a house until spring. I had no idea this still existed.”

Belle, busily snooping at the back of the dim cellar, discovered an old rusty lantern. She shook it. “It still has a little oil. Now all we need is a way of lighting it!” Then she remembered the small leather bag her mother kept tied to her belt. “Do you have your flint and steel?”

“Take the pouch,” her mother instructed.

Belle thought this was odd, but did as she was instructed, untying the soft deer-skin bag from her mother's belt.

Easing the glass chimney off the lantern, Belle laid it on the ground, then rummaged in the pouch, withdrawing the steel and flint. “If I do this right, we should be able to see, at least.” Belle struck the flint against the steel, sending a shower of sparks onto the oil-soaked wick.

A small ember flickered to life, then the wick flared. The glow from the old lantern bathed Belle's face as she replaced the chimney. Smiling, she looked up at her mother and stopped.

“Mama, what's the matter?” she asked, noticing how her mother held her hands away from her body.

“It's nothing, Belle. When I was rescuing Samuel from the roof, my hands were burnt a little.” Her voice was light, but Belle saw the sweat on her mother's forehead.

Belle lifted the lantern and looked closely at her mother's hands. “Oh, Mama!” she gasped, noting the red blisters and raw open patches where the skin was entirely burnt away. “We must do something.” She looked into her mother's eyes, seeing the agony there. “I must go for the doctor!” she whispered, but they both knew that was not possible.

Sarah got up and moved closer to the light so that she could see Madame Tourond's hands. “This is terrible,” she moaned. “Who will take care of us if your hands are all burnt?” She began crying again. “I want my mama and papa. They will know what to do.”

Belle took a deep breath. She looked from Sarah's red, tear-stained face, to little Samuel on the floor and then to her mother. She could see her mother biting back the pain.

She remembered her mother's words: One day, you will have no choice, Belle. People will be counting on you. She straightened up, feeling strangely older and somehow, stronger.

“Sarah, stop that crying or I will throw you out for the soldiers to use for target practice!” Shocked, Sarah abruptly shut up. Belle's voice softened. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. We have to work together now. You and I are going to take care of my mama and Samuel.” She thought Sarah was going to protest, but all she did was nod her head.

Belle checked on Samuel. His breathing was strained. “Samuel!” she called, shaking him. “Samuel, wake up!” But the small boy didn't respond. “Sarah, come and watch over your brother. If he wakes, call me.”

Still sniffing, Sarah sat beside her brother.

Belle moved around the cellar using the lantern to check into dark corners for any other treasures that may have been overlooked. There wasn't much left in the old cellar, but she did find a tattered blanket to put over Samuel.

“Mama, you have to have medicine for your hands, and we'll need supplies if we're going to stay here.” She couldn't believe that she was saying these things to her mother.

Her mother smiled reassuringly at her, but the corners of her mouth were pinched. “I know, Belle. But we cannot go out into the fighting. It's too dangerous. You could be injured or …” Her voice trailed off.

Belle knew her mother was thinking about Papa and Patrice. She was worried too, but she couldn't let that stop her. She thought for a moment. There was only one way. “Later tonight, when it is dark, I'm going back to our house and gather what we need. It's not far, and I'll be very careful.”

She and her mother looked at each other. They both knew if they were to stay hiding here, they would have to have food and water.

“Are you sure you can do it?” her mother asked.

Belle smiled confidently. “Of course I can! I know every inch of prairie around here and,
thanks to always being late getting home, I also know every shortcut to our house.”

As the afternoon wore on, Belle sat on the cold ground, waiting for nightfall. Her mother was resting, but her hands were now oozing a foul fluid.

Sarah, who had been pacing the dirt floor, became more anxious as the hours dragged by. “We can't possibly stay here. It's not safe. There's no food, and Samuel needs a doctor.” She seemed to be talking to herself, and then she looked over at Belle. “How are we going to live in this oversized gopher hole? We should have waited for my parents.”