The End of the Line (42 page)

“This way, sir,” the man said, and led Durrant to the far end of the car. The man slid a door marked Private and ushered Durrant inside.

There was no one in the room. Four chairs were arranged next to a stately desk. Windows on both sides of the private office gave spectacular views of the passing scenery.

“Please have a seat. Superintendent Steele will be in shortly. Do you require anything, sir?”

Durrant shook his head and sat down in one of the leather chairs. He drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He had spent the better part of his convalescence since the North West Rebellion in Saskatchewan. He had even made a return trip to Fort Walsh and the Cypress Hills. He had intended to resume an old inquiry there, one that had never been solved: one that involved the shooting of a
NWMP
officer. He had new leads and Durrant had learned a thing or two about tracking down those who hid in plain sight.

The door that connected the private room to the adjacent car slid open and Steele stood before him. Durrant rose and removed his hat. Steele stepped in. He was a broad man, straight in the spine and upright in every way. Steele reached out his left hand and Durrant shook it.

“It's good to see you again, Sergeant.”

“And you, sir.”

“Please sit a moment so we can talk in private.”

“Of course, sir.”

Each man took a seat in one of the armchairs.

“I'm glad to have you along on this sojourn, Wallace.”

“I was glad for the invitation.”

“I'm sorry we could not extend it to others in your party.” Durrant shrugged. “Believe it or not, resources for the
CPR
are tight.” They sat in silence a moment, Steele regarding the Sergeant.

“You'll recall, Sergeant, that after Batoshe I put in a request to Parliament to create an investigations unit within the North West Mounted Police.” Durrant nodded. “They have turned me down. There will be no such unit. There's no money for it, and the politicians claim that there's no need.”

“I understand, sir. It was a good idea, but I understand.”

“You're more indulgent than I am, Wallace,” said Steele, his face red. “Nevertheless, Sergeant, I am of the conviction that there
is
a need. Kicking Horse and Batoshe have proven that and the need is growing. Policing is changing in the North West Territories. With the railway all but complete, and towns and settlement taking their place here in the West, the need for the sort of skills you have developed will increase.”

Durrant sat quietly while his superior regarded him. After a moment, Durrant asked, “What do you propose, sir?”

“I'm going to continue to call upon you to serve under my command, Wallace. It can't be official, you understand, but you're going to head a unit for special investigations. You'll report directly to me. It's going to have to be done quietly, Sergeant. I understand that might go against the grain of your natural disposition . . .” Steele regarded the man a moment, and then smiled. “Can you do that, Durrant?”

“Yes, sir. I believe I can.”

“Good, then,” said Steele. He stood. Durrant pushed himself to standing.

“Congratulations then,
Inspector
Wallace.” Steele saluted the man, and Durrant did the same.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Now then, Inspector, there is someone I'd like you to meet.”

“Yes, sir.”

Steele moved to the door that separated the cars and drew it open. He said a few words and stepped aside. A broad, powerfully built man entered next. He wore a heavy beard and his eyes burned with an intense fire that Durrant had rarely seen. He was smoking a fragrant cigar. The man manoeuvred his bulk into the room and reached out his left hand.

“I'm William Cornelius Van Horne,” the man said.

“Durrant Wallace, sir.”

“I know who you are. Superintendant Steele has told me all about you.”

Durrant looked at Steele who motioned for Durrant to sit.

“How can I be of service to you, sir?” Durrant asked when they were all seated.

“You know what I do for the railway, son?”

“Yes, sir. You're the general superintendant of the
CPR
.”

“That's correct.”

“You built this railway.”

Van Horne laughed. “Me and twelve thousand others.”

Durrant smiled. “Yes sir.”

“I need a favour from you, Inspector Wallace.”

“What can I do for you?”

Van Horne puffed on his cigar, filling the room with blue smoke. “It's more what I don't want you to do.”

“And what's that, sir?”

“Tell your story.”

Durrant watched the man. Van Horne regarded him as he drew on his cigar. Durrant could see Steele look from himself to Van Horne and back.

“I want you to keep quiet about what happened at Lake Louise and up on the Kicking Horse Pass and at Batoshe.”

Durrant regarded the man thoughtfully.

“We're going to build a hotel on the shore of Tom's Lake Louise. And we're going to make a National Park around the hot springs at Banff. It's going to help us recoup the coffers of the treasury. The
CPR
has been a tremendous expense. We'd like, for the time being, the focus of the tourists to be on the scenery, on the mountains, on the glaciers, and such. We're fearful of what the eastern press might do to the tourist trade if they got hold of your tale. Inspector, you did one hell of a job for us at Kicking Horse Pass and up at Lake Louise. One hell of a job . . . but it's not the story that we want tourists and the damned Ontario press getting hold of right now.”

Durrant nodded. He cleared his throat. After a long uncomfortable moment, he said, “Of course,” and watched as Van Horne breathed out, his shouldered relaxing. Durrant continued, “Superintendant Steele has already spoken with me about Batoshe. It was a most . . . unfortunate turn of events. No need to sully both the
CPR
and the North West Mounted Police. If you feel that the story of the Kicking Horse and Lake Louise is best untold, then I will respect that.”

“For the time being,” said Van Horne. “Who knows, in time, these stories might only increase the demand to see the sights, but now, with things so fragile, and Macdonald facing an election and all, well . . .” Van Horne's voice trailed off and he puffed on his cigar.

“Will there be anything else, sir?” Durrant turned to Steele.

“Thank you, Inspector Wallace, that's all for now.”

“We're glad that you could make it to Craigellachie with us, Inspector,” said Van Horne, rising. Durrant pushed himself up on his cane. “It's going to be a great day. You'll be in the tin-type we make of that event, mark my words. There might not have been a railway if it wasn't for what you did on the Kicking Horse Pass. This will be a great event! The last spike! The end of the line!”

“Yes, sir,” said Durrant, propping his bowler on top of his head, and shaking hands with Van Horne and then Steele. “The end of the line, at last.”

Writing a novel is all encompassing. The novelist is often distant, distracted, sneaking away to pen a bit of dialogue or prose when he should be attending to the dishes. For her undying support I offer my deepest gratitude to Jenn, my wife, without whom none of this would be possible.

I am not a historian, so I turned to those with expertise for help: E.J. (Ted) Hart and Lena Goon from the Whyte Museum of the Canadian Rockies, Dianne Precosky from Fort Calgary, and Jo-Anne Colby of the Canadian Pacific Achieves were all generous and helpful. Graeme Pole, author of
The Spiral Tunnels and The Big Hill
, answered many of my questions about the history of the
CPR
at the Kicking Horse Pass.

During several stages of the research and writing of this book, it was necessary to take up residence in the Canadian Rockies. Friends Wendy Frances of Banff and Joel Hagen and Nadine Fletcher opened their homes to Jenn and me for that purpose.

The original notion for this series of novels came in 2006 when I was working with my friend and business coach Dan Spinner. I am grateful for his encouragement at that delicate time.

Ruth Linka, of TouchWood Editions, is a fabulous publisher to work with. I'm indebted to her for her support and enthusiasm. I can't wait to continue our partnership.

Frances Thorsen, who edits the Durrant Wallace series for TouchWood, and who from behind the counter at Chronicles of Crime books in Victoria,
BC
, dispenses unparalleled advice on the world of crime and mystery writing, deserves much of the credit for any success
The End of the Line
enjoys. Working with her on the publication of this novel has been one of the best editorial experiences I've had in my twenty years of writing.

And to all the booksellers who help their customers and readers find
The End of the Line
, I extend my appreciation and gratitude.

Durrant Wallace will return in 2013 in
The Third Riel Conspiracy
. It is the spring of 1885 and rebellion has broken out in Canada's North West Territories. Amid the chaos and strife of the Battle of Batoche, Reuben Wake is recuperating in the Zereba—a defensive structure built near the battlefield—after suffering a gunshot wound the previous day. As the final day of the conflict reaches its crescendo, Wake is murdered: shot at point-blank range. Hours later, Terrance Le Biche, a Métis man, is arrested for the crime: Wake's own pistol is found in his coat. Le Biche protests his innocence but he admits he had every
intention
of killing Wake, except someone beat him to the foul deed.

Durrant Wallace, of the North West Mounted Police, is requested by Superintendant Sam Steele to travel with haste into the fray to assist with peacemaking. Arriving at Batoche, Durrant is perplexed by the strange circumstances surrounding Reuben Wake's demise. When the Mountie begins his own investigation into what motive Le Biche might have had for the assignation, he learns that there are
many
who wanted Wake dead, and had the opportunity to commit the crime during the chaos of Batoche. Their grievances with Wake mirror the varied causes of the North West Rebellion itself.

What Durrant Wallace uncovers during his two-month odyssey into the origins of the discontent in the Canadian West is a series of covert conspiracies surrounding the life and death of Métis leader and prophet Louis Riel himself. Was Reuben Wake's death related to his involvement in one of these conspiracies? Or did his trickery and evil temperament simply catch up with him on the banks of the Saskatchewan River?

Durrant Wallace and his colleagues Garnet Moberly and Dr. Saul Armatage must reconstruct the four days of the Battle of Batoche, and delve deeply into the motivations of the suspects, the Métis, and their followers, among them the tribes of the Cree and Sioux Indians, in order to evaluate who among them actually killed Reuben Wake.

Visit
www.DurrantWallace.com
for updates, maps, and interactive features!

Stephen Legault is an author, consultant, conservationist, and photographer who lives in Canmore, Alberta. Stephen is the author of three other books, including the environmentally themed Cole Blackwater Mystery series, which includes the titles
The Cardinal Divide
and
The Darkening Archipelago
. Please visit Stephen online at
stephenlegault.com
or follow him on Twitter at
@stephenlegault
.

 

Other books by Stephen Legault

Carry Tiger to Mountain: The Tao of Activism and Leadership
(2006)

 

THE COLE BLACKWATER SERIES

The Cardinal Divide
(2008)

The Darkening Archipelago
(2010)

 

For information on new books in the Cole Blackwater series, the Durrant Wallace series, or other books by Stephen Legault, visit
stephenlegault.com/writing

Copyright © 2011 Stephen Legault

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written consent of the publisher or a licence from The Canadian Copyright Licensing Agency (
ACCESS
Copyright). For a copyright licence, visit www.accesscopyright.ca.

LIBRARY AND ARCHIVES CANADA CATALOGUING IN PUBLICATION
Legault, Stephen, 1971–
End of the line [electronic resource] / Stephen Legault.
Type of computer file: Electronic monograph in HTML format.
Issued also in print format.
ISBN 978-1-926971-06-3
I. Title.
PS8623.E46633E53 2011b C813'.6 C2011-903360-7

Editor: Frances Thorsen
Copyeditor: Lenore Hietkamp
Design and cover illustration: Pete Kohut
Author photo: Dan Anthon

We gratefully acknowledge the financial support for our publishing activities from the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund, Canada Council for the Arts, and the province of British Columbia through the British Columbia Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.