Belle of Batoche (4 page)

The whistle from the five o'clock ferryboat made Belle jump. How could it be so late? She'd let time slip away again! She had no excuses left. All thoughts of the old cellar flew out of her head as she hiked up her skirt and ran for home.

5
Butter Papers and Soapsuds

Belle stayed up late into the night, sometimes until ten o'clock, working on her embroidery. The design was slowly taking shape. It even looked like she'd imagined, if you ignored the places where she'd torn out the stitches so many times that the material was a little stretched. She had one more flower and a corner piece of the border to do before the beautiful cloth would be finished. There were two days left and Belle was sure she could do it. Sunday was going to be a day she would always remember.

“Belle!” her mother called from the back porch. “Come here, please. I need you to run an errand for me.”

Frowning, Belle looked down at the cloth.
She was starting the last bright buffalo bean, and wanted to make sure she had the shape of the delicate yellow flower just right. Maybe she could pretend she hadn't heard her mama call …

“Now, Belle, s'il vous plait!”

Belle sighed. She placed the cloth on the sideboard and hurried to see what her mother wanted.

“There you are.” Her mother was working the butter churn. One bowl of fresh, sweet butter was already sitting on the table. She stopped and drew a coin from the pocket of her skirt. “I want you to run to Monsieur Letendre's store and bring me back a dozen butter papers. And please don't dawdle.”

Belle started for the store. The butter was wrapped in greased butter papers before it was placed in the icehouse. Belle loved fresh butter and knew the papers helped keep it from spoiling. It was a wonderful day for a walk. She turned down Main Street where Monsieur Letendre's store stood tall and imposing in the afternoon sunshine.

Her hand tightened on the coin in her pocket as she pushed the door open and
entered the cool dark interior. The shop not only had food stocked on shelves and in baskets along one wall, but it also carried bolts of cloth and saddles, not to mention bottles of patent medicine and tobacco.

Belle's favorite thing in the store was the wheel of cheese as big around as her arms could reach. It sat on top of a barrel beside the counter where the ornate brass cash register rang up the sales. Monsieur Letendre cut off a sliver of cheese for each young person who came by, asking them to give their opinion as to the quality and flavor. He listened to the children's opinions with a serious expression. It was the most delicious cheese Belle had ever tasted.

Glancing around the store, Belle was surprised to see an old woman with a black shawl around her head standing at the front counter paying for her purchases.

Madame Coteau was as old as sod and had a reputation as being a shaman or wise woman. Most of the children called her a witch and no one dared to go near her house. She had treated many sick people and healed those whom the
travelling doctor couldn't help. But some said that healing wasn't all she did. It was whispered that perfectly healthy people became ill after running afoul of Madame Coteau. She lived alone on the far side of the river and Belle had not seen her since last fall, before the snows.

Old Madame Coteau wasn't the only person standing at the counter. Sarah Johnson was also there with a basket full of potatoes and onions. Belle walked up to the counter and stood waiting. Monsieur Letendre kept the butter papers on the shelf behind the till, so she would have to ask him for them. Madame Coteau paid for her purchases and left as Sarah pushed her basket of vegetables toward the shopkeeper. “Charge these to my parents' bill.”

Monsieur Letendre glanced up and saw Belle waiting. “I'll be with you in a moment, Belle.” Then a twinkle came into his eye. “Say, aren't you both in the contest over at the church? How's that coming along, ladies?”

“My cloth is finished and it's absolutely marvelous!” Sarah gushed, not giving
Belle time to speak. “I can hardly wait for Sunday! It will be such an honor to have my altar cloth chosen.” She looked at Belle out of the corner of her eye. “And to be the only one who will get to ring Marie-Antoinette every Sunday morning!” She emphasized “the only one,” in case Belle hadn't figured that part out.

Monsieur Letendre put the potatoes in the scale, walked to the end of the counter and cut a generous slice of cheese, which he handed to Belle. “And how is yours coming along, ma petite?” He cut a smaller sliver and offered it to Sarah before going back to the weigh scale.

Belle smiled. “My cloth is also finished, and it has turned out very nicely. Thank you for asking.” This wasn't completely true, but it was close enough that Belle didn't think of it as even a little white lie. She took a big bite of her cheese slice, relishing the crumbly texture and strong flavor of the aged cheddar.

“You children are too young to remember, but that elderly woman who was just in here could have taught you both a thing or
two about needlework. Why, Agnes Coteau could sew circles around any gal in the territory. She won more prizes at the annual fair than you could shake a stick at.” He handed Sarah a paper sack with her vegetables and jotted down an amount in his accounts ledger. “The only lady who even came close was your own mother, Belle. Your ma could take a plain coat and turn it into a work of art, and as for weaving, well, half the Metis in Batoche are wearing sashes your mother made.”

Belle knew her mother was very good at sewing, but she didn't realize that her weaving skills were so well known. She was teaching Belle how to make the colorful Red River or L'Assumption sash which was the traditional woven belt that Metis wore around their waists. Belle's smile widened as she felt a surge of pride for her mother and a new interest in her own weaving. Sarah ignored the flowery compliments. She tilted her face up until she was looking down her nose at Belle and the shop- keeper. “My own family simply purchases any items they need. It has always been
felt that a real lady shouldn't bother herself with such boring tasks as sewing.” And with that, she spun around and flounced out of the store.

“That girl has a lot of growing up to do, I reckon.” Monsieur Letendre shook his head and turned back to Belle. “Now, young lady, what can I do for you?”

Belle was still thinking about what Sarah had said. She felt a little wave of self-doubt when she remembered how confident Sarah had sounded. What if Sarah's cloth was better? What if Belle wasn't the one who released Marie-Antoinette's silvery voice every Sunday morning? Everyone knew it was Belle's mother who was famous for her needlework, not Belle. Her mother had been very firm about not sewing one stitch on the precious cloth. She'd said it wouldn't be fair if she did more than show Belle how to do the stitches. It must be Belle who did all the embroidery.

Belle's eye fell on a bright blue box sitting on the shelf behind Monsieur Letendre. It read, “Snow White Soap Flakes, Clothes so snowy white, your neighbors will talk!”

“I'll take the box of Snow White Soap Flakes, please.” She laid the money for the butter papers on the counter. Belle was sure her mother would understand when she saw the box of washing powder. After all, what mother wouldn't want her daughter to have an altar cloth so snowy white that people talked!

6
Judgement Day

Belle had to do some very inventive talking when she arrived home without the butter papers, but in the end, her mother understood.

“I suppose I would have done the same thing,” she said. “I think you should finish the cloth so we can try out your new soap powder. I wouldn't want to keep all the neighbors waiting.”

Belle hugged her mother. “Thank you, Mama. I promise, I will do extra chores to pay for the soap.”

Her mother laughed. “I would settle for you doing your regular chores on time!”

Belle worked hard on finishing her beautiful cloth, checking to make sure every flower was exactly right when seen from what she thought was an appropriate distance. She would stand across the room and pretend she was sitting in the front pew of the church. Then she would peer at her cloth as though seeing it for the first time. It looked perfect. She smiled to herself. In fact, it looked even more perfect the farther away you were!

Satisfied, Belle decided her first embroidery project was done and just in time. Tomorrow, at mass, the winner would be announced.

“Look, Mama, it's done! What do you think?” Belle said as she held the cloth up for her mother's inspection. “I can wash it now”

Her mother viewed the cloth with a critical eye. “No one would know this is your first time embroidering. It's lovely, Belle. You did a wonderful job!”

Belle glowed under her mother's praise. “I'll heat the water to give it a bath.” She giggled. “I mean a bubble bath!”

Not sure how much of the Snowy White Soap Flakes to put in the water, Belle poured a generous portion into the steaming tub. Swirling the water around to melt the flakes, she was amazed at how the lather first expanded, then overflowed the washtub. There were soapsuds everywhere! Belle washed the cloth carefully, making sure all her dirty fingerprints were scrubbed away.

When it came time to rinse the cloth, getting rid of the excess bubbles proved a tougher job than Belle would have expected. The more she sloshed the water around to rinse them away, the more suds formed. It took her longer to get rid of all the lather than it had to go to the store and buy the soap powder in the first place!

Finally, all the bubbles were gone and the cloth rinsed. Carefully, she hung the gleaming white work of art to dry. Tomorrow she would have to get up early to light the stove so the flat iron needed to press the cloth could be heated. She didn't want one wrinkle to detract from the pretty pattern of flowers and grass.

Early the next morning, Belle dressed in her best outfit. She even mended the small tear in her scarf that she wore to mass. Her family laughed at how nervous she was.

“You would think the queen of England was coming today. All this fuss, mon Dieu!” Patrice teased Belle, but he put on a clean shirt and slicked his hair down neatly anyway.

At church, Belle placed her cloth next to Sarah's on the table at the front then took her place with the rest of the choir. The other children spread out in the pew so that Sarah was forced to sit beside Windy Caron again. This time Sarah built a protective wall of hymnals between her and her fragrant choir mate.

When Father Moulin entered, the children stood and began to sing. Sarah, who had attended only one practice since joining the choir, fumbled with her hymnbook trying to find the right song.

“Come over here and you can use my book,” Windy Caron offered with a toothy grin. “We had cabbage rolls for supper last night!”

Sarah glared at him and began pretending to sing, while still frantically looking for the right page in her book.

Belle could hardly sit through the sermon. The winner would be announced at the end of mass. She kept looking over at the two embroidered cloths. She had to admit Sarah's did look nice. The design was a cleverly worked dove holding an olive branch in its mouth as it soared in a pale blue sky. The stitching around the edge was a complicated pattern that showed off Sarah's obvious needle skills. Belle tried not to be jealous. Hers was still beautiful with all the carefully worked flowers, but it wasn't as showy as Sarah's intricate pattern.

Finally, the service ended. “I have an announcement!” Father Moulin called. “I wish to draw your attention to these fine examples of needlework by two of our young people.” He nodded to the choir mistress to leave her seat and approach the table. “Miss Dorval and myself will choose one of these cloths as the winner of our contest and that young lady will be our new bell ringer.”

Belle held her breath as the two judges inspected the cloths. Sarah smiled smugly. Her confidence didn't help Belle's nervousness.

Miss Dorval took out her spectacles and perched them on the bridge of her nose. She inspected each piece for a long time. Then, without warning, the choir mistress did an unexpected thing. She turned the cloths over and looked at the other side of the work!