Nearly a year before, Sundance had been in Fort Riley, Kansas, when a telegram arrived from General George Crook, now commander of the Department of the Missouri, with headquarters in Chicago. There was no explanation because, between Sundance and his old friend George Crook, none was necessary. The message asked him to come to Chicago as soon as he could. Sundance was on the next available train.
The two men, halfbreed and major general in the United States Army, had been close friends for many years. They had campaigned together in the wars against Geronimo and again later on the high plains. Sundance had served under Crook as scout and hunter. Between them, there was a bond that could never be broken. When there were no wars to be fought, and when their paths happened to cross, they hunted and fished together. Crook was a no-nonsense veteran, liked by his men and respected by the Indians he had fought so long and so hard. Liquor and foul language had no place in his life, but he smoked one black cigar after another, despite the warnings of his wife and doctor. There was nothing Sundance would not have done for George Crook.
Sundance got Eagle from the box car in which the great fighting stallion had traveled from Kansas. “Easy boy!” he said as his horse whickered nervously at the crash and roar of the city. It had been years since Sundance had been in Chicago, and he didn’t like it any better now. He didn’t like cities of any kind, and Chicago was one of the noisiest of them all.
It took him an hour to ride across town and find General Crook’s headquarters in the newly built military reservation. It was winter. Dirty, frozen snow was on the ground and a vicious wind was blowing in from the lake. A sentry passed him through the gate and a corporal escorted him to Crook’s office. He had to wait for five minutes before the general came out to greet him. A white-haired man in a gray broadcloth suit stared at Sundance as he left the room. Sundance thought he looked familiar, a face from the newspapers.
“Did you ever see such weather?” Crook said. “Lord, how I’d like to be back in Arizona. I wonder if it’s true that the desert makes a man’s blood thin. Come on in by the fire and get warm. I’ll shout up some coffee for both of us.”
A stack of logs burned in the fireplace with a cheerful crackle. “Sit down, Jim,” Crook said, rubbing his large hands together. “I tell you, this new job of mine doesn’t suit me at all—shuffling papers all day. You get worse saddle sores from sitting in a chair than you ever got from any saddle. I only took the job to please Mary. We’re both not so young anymore, and she thought it was time we settled down to a more civilized existence. Damnation! I’d go back to sleeping in a tent any time.”
Sundance smiled at the general. “You’ll get the hang of it after a while.”
“Absolutely not,” Crook said. “I’m a fighting soldier and always was, from the first day I left the Point. Mary is fine by the way.”
An orderly brought in a pot of coffee and Sundance waited while Crook poured.
Back behind his desk with a cup in one hand and a cigar in the other, Crook said, “I guess you’re wondering why I sent for you, Jim. I couldn’t explain in the telegram because it would take too long. Besides, too many people in and out of the army have long noses. This isn’t like anything I’ve asked you to do before, so you’re free to turn it down. I’ll understand if you do.”
“It isn’t likely that I will, Three Stars,” Sundance said, using the old Cheyenne name for General Crook. The general was known to his men as Old George; to Sundance he would always be Three Stars.
“Hear me out first,” Crook said. “The whole thing is about as complicated as it can get. You know there are people in this country who would like to annex or steal Canada. Yes, sir, we have people with mighty big ideas in the U.S.A. From sea to shining sea isn’t big enough for them. Now it has to be Canada, the whole Dominion. ‘Manifest Destiny’ is the fancy name they give it. Of course, it’s just another name for some plain and fancy stealing. But that’s politics for you. No matter how fat a politician gets, he wants to get fetter. It’s the nature of the beast.”
Sundance drank his coffee. It was army coffee, which was all you could say for it.
Crook went on: “Not every politician in Washington is in favor of annexation. But lot of them are. So are their friends in business, who lick their lips every time they think of that big rich mostly empty country up there—mining, lumber, furs, millions of acres of some of the finest land in the world, all waiting to be stolen by Uncle Sam.”
“What about the British?” Sundance asked. “They’re not known to take these things lying down.”
Crook said, “I was coming to that. Some people in our government are convinced the British will fight if it comes to a showdown. Others aren’t so sure. Their argument is that Great Britain is thousands of miles away. Ever since the Civil War, this country has one of the most powerful armies in the world. Britain, they argue, isn’t about to get into a major war over a wilderness like Canada.”
“What do you think?”
“I honestly don’t know. They’re a tough people, the British, and they may see it as a matter of pride. I’d hate to see Washington shelled all over again, not to mention Boston and New York. I’m inclined to think they’ll fight. That’s only one man’s opinion, and there are men, men I respect, who don’t agree with me. Lord, I’d hate to see a war with England. But that’s only part of the problem. It gets worse as it goes along. You ever hear of a man named Louis Riel?”
“The so-called halfbreed leader?”
“That’s the one. How much do you know about him?”
“That he started a halfbreed rebellion in the North West Territories about fifteen years ago, was defeated, and managed to escape to Montana.”
Crook said, “He didn’t manage to escape. They let him escape to keep him from becoming a martyr. A lot of people wanted to see him hung, but they let him escape instead. For fifteen years he stayed in Montana, taught school, and wrote a lot of fiery speeches, and not much else was heard from him. Now he’s back in the North West Territories threatening to establish a separate government dominated by halfbreeds and Indians. If the movement goes far enough, there is going to be a bloody war up there.”
“I thought the Territories belonged to the Hudson Bay Company.”
“Not for much longer. The company no longer has effective control over the area and is turning it over to the Canadian government. The transfer hasn’t been made yet, so there is nobody in real control. That’s why Riel is trying to seize control—when the situation is confused. He tried it once before, but how he has a better chance.”
“Because he has outside help from this country?”
“How did you know?”
“Just a guess. Now would be the time to look for help.”
“And get it,” Crook said, “from the politicians and the business men. The Irish don’t want to be left out either. By Irish I mean the Fenians. Any trouble that can.be made for England, the Fenians are ready to take part in it. You remember the time they tried to invade Canada after the Civil War? They were beaten off by the militia and some British regulars. Now they’re looking for another chance. They’ve been collecting money and recruiting men in New York, Boston, and even right here in Chicago. Our government isn’t doing much to stop them. There’s that monster of all northern politicians, the Irish vote.”
Sundance said, “All the halfbreeds and Indians will suffer while the others look after their own interests.”
“Riel doesn’t think so. That’s the information I have. Riel thinks he can handle all of them when the time comes. Look, Jim, I don’t say the halfbreeds and Indians don’t have just complaint. They’ve lived up there in the Territories for as long as man can remember. Suddenly, the Canadian government is interested in their lands, wants them to prove their titles. What do these poor people know about land titles? It’s their land because they have always lived there. Now they’re being trod underfoot by government surveyors. It all sounds reasonable on paper, but these people live with the hard facts of life, not scraps of paper. It’s a desperate situation, and Riel is playing into the hands of men who are no friends of his people.”
Sundance had been thinking of Louis Riel. That the man was a fanatic there was no doubt. But then, so were all desperate men. A halfbreed himself, he could well understand Riel’s despair. Governments promised much and did nothing until desperate men broke out their guns.
“You haven’t come to the worst part yet,” he suggested to General Crook.
“God help me, I haven’t, Jim. Riel has very little Indian blood, perhaps none, but the halfbreeds and Indians—the Crees—look up to him. They fought with him in the first rebellion and will fight harder now. Riel’s plan is to call for a general uprising of all the Indian tribes on both sides of the border—all the tribes. And he thinks he can do it. If that happens, the frontier will be washed in blood. It will make all the Indian wars of the past look like skirmishes.”
“Has he white support in this, Three Stars?”
“My information is that he does. It will give our government an excuse to invade Canada, to crush Riel, and scatter his forces. Once we’re in, we’ll want to stay to make sure of a lasting peace. The President doesn’t want that to happen, but there won’t be much he can do about it. There will be so much flag-waving he wouldn’t even try—not and stay in office, that is. I tell you, Jim, this business scares the dickens out of me.”
“How many people know about it?”
“No way to be sure. Plenty of people know about it but are afraid to take sides. They’d like to sit out the dance and perhaps make a little money when the slaughter is over. Sumner and Seward started it. They’ve always had their eyes on Canada. They liked to pretend it was because Canada harbored Rebels during the Civil War. Not so. They just want to steal the country.”
“What about the army?”
“The high ranking officers know about it, or have heard something. Some don’t believe it because this annex Canada talk has been going on for years. It goes clear back to the Revolutionary War. Some officers would like to see another war. Nothing like a war for quick promotion. I’ve known too many men who have built their careers on the bones of others.”
“Three Stars, what would you like me to do? What do you think I could do? You just drew a dismal picture.”
Crook got up and walked around, angry and glum at the same time.
“I’ll be blunt. You’re a halfbreed and know how it feels to be treated like one. I don’t say anyone has done that lately, but you were once a boy. You saw the scorn heaped on your parents. With you it isn’t something learned from a book. Do you think Louis Riel knows who you are?”
“It’s possible. I’ve been in Canada. My name has been in the newspapers, though not as often in Canada as here.”
“Do you think Riel would listen to you? If you went north and explained what I have told you? I’m told those blamed Fenians, those Irishmen, are already with him. Their leader is a man named Colum Hardesty. He’s thirty eight or forty and served in the British army before landing in New York ten years ago. Hardesty has two friends, named Cunningham and Lane. It would be a shame if something happened to them.”
Crook stared out the window and bit the end off another cigar. “If you know what I mean.”
“I could try talking to Riel,” Sundance said. “I’d have to get up there and see how everything was going. I’d probably have to offer to join up with him. I’m a halfbreed, so he wouldn’t find that hard to believe.”
Crook sat down again. “You know I can’t help you if anything happens. They don’t love you in Washington, and that’s a fact. You don’t even have to go if you don’t want to. It’s getting to the point where there isn’t much any man can do. The things men will do for money! I’d like to take certain parties I know and shoot them out of hand.”
“I’d be there holding your coat, Three Stars. I don’t know what I can do. It may be too big for any man. But I’d like to take a look. I could always kill Riel, but I’ll face that when I come to it. How much do you really know about the man? I know what’s in the newspapers, and that’s all. You’ve obviously been studying up on him.”
“As much as I can,” the general said. “And I can’t decide whether he’s little crazy or big crazy. Some men are sane and crazy at the same time. Let me read you some of the notes I’ve made. You can’t read my writing, so don’t try.”
“Louis Riel, born in 1844, son of Louis Riel and the daughter of the first white child born in the River Settlement. Said to be one-eighth Indian, though no proof exists of this. In 1858 sent to Sulpician College, in Montreal, to study for the priesthood. Moody, ill-tempered, wrote poetry. Left the seminary without completing his studies. On his way home to Red River worked as a clerk in a general store in St. Paul, Minnesota. Later became prominent in the métis (halfbreed) movement, its slogan was: ‘For the first owners of the soil.’ Began an association with Fenian leader W. B. O’Donoghue of Fort Garry. In 1870, now leader of the halfbreeds and Indians, Riel spoke of inviting annexation by the United States. After declaring a provisional government, Riel’s forces were defeated and he was forced to flee Canada. After fifteen years in Montana, where he was a schoolteacher among other things, he recently returned to the North West Territories. During his exile, he spent two years in asylums and has been described as a religious fanatic with an often stated desire to establish his own church. Dark hair, wild staring black eyes, well educated, well spoken. Fluent in English and French, His whereabouts are not known at the present time.”
General Crook put down the sheet of paper. “That’s about it, Jim. He’s more of a mystery than anything else. The Canadian government has tried to buy him off with the finest tracts of land in the Territories, but he just laughs at them. They offered to settle a lifetime pension, a big one, on him if he will return to his country. Money means nothing to him. Riel always says, ‘I will dress no better than the poorest of my people. I will eat what they eat, and if there is not enough for me I will eat nothing.’ I’m not afraid of much, my old friend, but this man frightens me. Yes, kill him if you have to. How soon can you start?”
“Today.”
“You’ll need money.”
“I have enough money to last me. If I take too much money, they may search me and find it. If I have to use the telegraph, where do I send the messages?”
“To the Western Union general office on State Street. Send them to Edward Bellson. The manager is the only one who knows who that is. He’ll get them over here as fast as a horse can run. Your best way to get to Regina—Riel is said to be close to there—in by Canadian Pacific. I hope we aren’t at war with England the next time we meet.”
Crook walked outside with Sundance; the wind from the lake was still bone-rattling cold. “It’s colder than this where you’re going,” the general said. “One more thing, Jim. If you can’t do any good, then let it go. More than that I can’t tell you. Sometimes, these things have to take their course, and there’s nothing anybody can do. Cut your losses and come on back home. I’ll be waiting to hear what you have to say. Let’s hope it’s good news.”
The two men shook hands, and the sentry passed Sundance out through the gate. Sundance had the feeling that there was a long, hard, dangerous road ahead.