A/N: My apologies for the delay in posting this chapter, but it drove me crazy. After reading the first version, I decided it needed revamping...and this is the third version. I hope it's worth the wait.
Just for fun, I tried to include some French in the story, but my French is really bad, so I hope you'll forgive me. There's also some French-Canadian profanity, which was fun to try as well, even if I did make several mistakes, so please keep that in mind as you read this chapter. After all, this story is somewhat of an experiment for me...and it's fun to learn new things...
Nearly a month had passed since William had visited Julia to inform her about his taking part in a posse, and in spite of her efforts to remain unruffled by his absence, she was becoming more worried by the day.
There'd been a dramatic change in the weather since the last time she'd seen him, with a damp, chilly wind offering a preview of the bitterly cold winter to come, and she hated to think of him riding with the posse that was going after that dangerous Charbonneau gang, exposed to the extreme elements as he'd be...roughing it in the bleak Canadian wilderness with no shelter to speak of, and with only his coarse woolen jacket and perhaps a saddle blanket to offer him any sort of protection from the frigid temperatures and freezing precipitation that were sure to follow. She knew that, even though he was quite physically fit and had experience dealing with raw weather conditions from his time as a lumberjack, he was no longer a brawny teenager, and she couldn't help but fret about his well-being, shuddering as she considered the dire possibilities. What if he develops severe frostbite on his extremities and it becomes gangrenous? What if he catches his death of pneumonia? I can't bear to think of that…
It had become part of her daily routine to wonder if that would be the day when he'd call her to say he was safely back in town. "Surely, he's back by now.," she'd murmur to herself as she gazed out from the living room windows, gently tracing the frosty patterns on the window pane with her fingers. "I know he'll have many things to do at the station house when he returns, but I'm sure he'll call me as soon as he can...perhaps today..."
She longed to know if any progress had been made in the posse's search, but she'd soon realized William wouldn't be able to communicate freely with her during his absence. Even if he'd had the time to write of the posse's progress, he'd never dream of sending a personal letter to her, knowing that its arrival at her house would cause Darcy a great deal of consternation, and, of course, a telegram was also out of the question for the same reason.
Instead, she'd read the newspaper from cover to cover every morning, anxious for any word about the posse, but apparently there was none to be had. "They must've decided to keep their pursuit a secret for safety's sake...but what I wouldn't give to know that William is out of harm's way..."
So as the days passed, and even though she valiantly tried to fight off a creeping feeling of dread, she found herself growing more and more concerned for his well-being. William had expected it would take two weeks to track down the Charbonneau gang, and now nearly twice that amount of time had elapsed. What was happening with the posse? Was the weather impeding their progress? Why was it taking so long to find that gang? Had something gone horribly wrong?
Until she heard from him, however, she'd found the best thing to do was to stay busy. She was relieved to find that if she was occupied with her patients, her social obligations as Darcy's wife, and her charity work, those distractions kept her from dwelling on the many dangers William might be encountering as part of the posse. It seemed he was always on her mind in some fashion, but being able to focus on other things helped keep her trepidation at bay. For now, unable to share her anxiety with anyone, it was the best she could do.
Oooooooooo
She had just finished with her last patient one November afternoon and was tidying up when Mrs. Carruthers appeared in the office's doorway, holding up a calling card. "You've a visitor, Missus...and he says it's important that he sees you immediately. He's a police inspector…"
"A police inspector? Here? How strange..." Trying to quell her panic, Julia took a deep breath as she regarded her housekeeper. "Did he say what he wanted?"
"No, ma'am...just asked after ya, all polite like. He says he's Inspector Brackenreid, and that you know him well." Mrs. Carruthers offered a small smile. "He sounds like home, ma'am...sounds like a Yorkshireman, he does...he's got reddish hair…a nice full mustache...a thick, square build..."
"Yes...yes, I do know him well. Please ask him to wait in the parlor, Alma. I'll be there directly."
"Yes, ma'am."
As Mrs. Carruthers left the room, Julia smoothed her clothes and patted her hair in place, checking her appearance in a small hand mirror before nodding slightly at her reflection. "I suppose I'm presentable enough…"
Sighing softly, she pinched her lips together in a grim expression, hoping she could remain stoic in the face of what might be overwhelming despair. "If the inspector has come to my home in person to call on me instead of telephoning or sending Crabtree over instead, then he must have bad news about William...and if so, I must be strong. No matter what Tom says, I have to be brave…I know that's what William would want. He wouldn't want me to dissolve into tears...after all, that's why he came to see me all those weeks ago...to prepare me for just such an occurrence." Willing herself to be calm, she laid the mirror aside and nodded resolutely. "So...let's go see why the inspector is here…"
Squaring her shoulders, she strode down the hall towards the parlor to see her visitor. "Inspector Brackenreid...how good to see you again. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"
Gripping his derby tightly, he wore a somber expression as he rose from his chair to greet her. "Good day, Dr. Ogden. It's good to see you again as well. I...um...I wish I could say this was a social call, but...you see…" Clearing his throat softly, he looked away from her piercing gaze. "...it's about Murdoch. He's been…"
"Oh my…please tell me you don't mean...," Julia gasped, clasping her hands over her heart as she sank into a chair. "...he's...been killed? He's...dead, isn't he? Oh, poor William...I knew he shouldn't have gone with that posse...I knew something dreadful would happen..."
Seeing how shocked Julia was as she listened to the news he was trying to deliver, Inspector Brackenreid sprang into action. Bounding to the hall, he called out, "Oi, missus...pour us some brandy for the doctor, and make it snappy." Turning back to Julia, shaken and pale as she tried to cope with the horrible news she'd received, he gently took her hand. "It's going to be alright, Doctor…I promise you that..."
"How can it ever be 'alright', Inspector? William is...gone..." Taking a small glass from Mrs. Carruthers' tray with a trembling hand, Julia took a small sip before letting a soft moan escape from her lips. "Oh, Tom…"
A curt nod towards the parlor's door quickly dismissed the housekeeper, lest she be given some reason to gossip about her employer's discomfort. As Mrs. Carruthers left the room, the inspector hunkered down next to Julia's chair, crooning softly to comfort her. "There, there...have another taste now. There you go. Better, right? There's a good lass." He sighed softly as she tried to compose herself. "Well now, Doctor...let's get something straight, shall we? You'll be happy to know that you've misunderstood the reason for my visit. Murdoch's too damn stubborn to let some nasty animal like Armand Charbonneau do him in for good. Now, to tell you the truth, he's been banged up pretty bad...but he's still kicking…barely, perhaps, but Murdoch is still with us..."
"Thank goodness!" She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, biting her lip in embarrassment. "I'm sorry for the histrionics, Tom. I was hoping to avoid such a scene, but it seems I wasn't very successful. The thought that William might have passed...was simply too upsetting..."
The inspector smiled gently as he patted her hand. "No need to apologize, Doctor. I understand completely. Of course you'd be upset if you'd thought the worst had happened to him. He's your friend, and tears are to be expected in such a case."
"I suppose so…but still...it's not fair to ask you to put up with them." Sniffling softly, Julia dug her handkerchief out of her pocket and wiped her eyes. "So what you're saying is that...William's been seriously wounded...but he's still alive?"
"Aye...that's exactly it. As I'm sure you know by now, Murdoch's one tough little bastard, if you'll pardon my French, and he'll keep hanging around out of spite, if nothing else! Yes, of course he's still with us. It'd take a lot more than some random band of thugs and brigands to keep William Murdoch down for the count on a permanent basis."
Seeing that she finally understood what he meant, the inspector continued quietly. "Now, as I said, he is in rough shape, and he has a long road to full recovery, but he'll get there eventually, by guts alone if nothing else. He's in hospital here in Toronto as we speak." Seeing that Julia was calmer and her color was better, he straightened up and tugged at the hem of his waistcoat. "And that's why I've come to your house. I know you're probably very busy at the moment, Doctor, but I was wondering if you'd be available to do us a favor."
She nodded resolutely. "Of course, Tom. I'll do whatever you need me to do, if it'll help William…"
"Good...that's good." The inspector exhaled slowly before continuing. "You see, I think he's getting excellent care from the sisters at St. Michael's, but I was hoping you'd be available to check on him this afternoon...perhaps to give us a second opinion on his wounds and the best way to care for them. I'm sure Murdoch would be glad to know that you're looking after him, Doctor. I have a carriage waiting, if you've the time to come with me now…"
"Yes, of course…" Aroused from her shock, Julia stood up quickly, brushing her tears away. She was obviously relieved at having something purposeful to do. "Give me a few minutes to get my things...and I need to give Alma some instructions about dinner…"
"Of course." The inspector wore a slight grin as he watched the doctor rush from the room. "Seeing her will do Murdoch a world of good…," he said to himself. "...she'll give him a reason to fight…and it'll set her mind at ease as well."
Oooooooooo
They rode in silence for a few minutes as the carriage made it's way across the city. Finally, the inspector cleared his throat. "I don't want you to be too taken aback by Murdoch's appearance, Doctor. He looks to be falling apart, bruised and bandaged as he is..."
"I'm sure I can handle it, Inspector. After all, I used to work in the morgue." She inhaled sharply at the thought. What if William had ended up in the morgue? What would I have done? Thank goodness he made it home...
"Well, Murdoch's had a bad time of it, but it seems that in the long run, he was the man responsible for the posse's success." The inspector sighed as he fidgeted with his watch fob. "I asked Constable Jackson to go with the posse, to make sure Murdoch had someone he knew who'd watch his back, so I know about everything that happened on the trip without the detective's blasted modesty to cover up the true story. I've always known that the ol' mucker is a brave, intelligent man, but…it seems I had no idea just how clever and resourceful he really is..."
"So the posse rounded up the whole gang?," Julia interrupted, unsure if she wanted to hear all the worrisome details of the posse's exploits.
"That they did...as many as survived, that is, but not without a raging gun battle first." Brackenreid shifted uncomfortably in the seat, wondering how much to say about what had happened, and then deciding the doctor was a strong enough woman to handle the complete truth. "From what Jackson told me, there was some trouble with that posse from the beginning. A detective from Hamilton, one Jarvis Drake, had been assigned to lead the posse with Murdoch as his second in command. Drake had a couple months seniority on our man, so the Chief Constable declared him to be in charge of the expedition…he was to have final say in all decisions..."
"Was declared to be in charge? Was to have final say?," Julia asked quietly. "As in past tense? So…does that mean...he's dead?"
"Yes...Drake was in charge. I'm afraid he is no longer with us, unfortunately. Here's what happened. About two weeks into the chase, the posse got a supposedly trustworthy tip that the Charbonneaus were holed up in a secluded area near Huntsville, and then…"
Ooooooooo
Ten days earlier...
The sun had just barely risen above the horizon on a bitterly cold morning, and the men making up the posse were beginning to stir around the camp, getting ready to face another grueling day on horseback. Winter was nipping at their heels, and time was of the essence if they were to avoid being exposed to the notoriously frigid weather that the bleak Canadian wilderness was apt to deliver.
At last, after two weeks of fruitless searching for the Charbonneau gang, it seemed as if the posse had caught a break. They'd happen to meet up with a lone rider along the trail the evening before, and he'd asked if he could camp with them for the night. Murdoch was skeptical of the man's motives, but after much discussion, it was decided that the posse would offer some sort of meager hospitality to the traveler.
After dinner, no matter how hard Murdoch tried to change the subject, the talk around the fire naturally turned to the posse's mission, even though they were supposed to be operating in secret. The visitor's ears pricked up at the mention of the Charbonneaus. "Say...there's a rough looking crew holed up over by Huntsville, so not too far from here...maybe a half day's ride at most, if you travel at a good clip. A few miles due south of town they are, camped in a sort of secluded hollow surrounded by a grove of trees. You can't miss it...they're off to the west side of the main road, about 3 miles outside of the town as the crow flies.," he explained, shaking his head as he recalled the scene. "There's twelve or so in the group. They've a dangerous look about them, so I steered clear of those fellas, but from what I saw, they'd made it sort of a home base, like they were planning to stay a couple of days...and I swear I heard the name Charbonneau mentioned by one of them..."
Listening with interest, Drake and Murdoch both asked probing questions to clarify the man's information, with the former being eager to believe everything he'd heard about the group of men the visitor had seen, and the latter inclined to be more cautious. However, Drake was positive the information was sound...that based on the traveler's information, the group must indeed be the Charbonneau gang, and the knowledge of their location would give the posse the edge they needed to get the job done soon, and so Murdoch's misgivings were completely ignored.
The visitor had left the camp at first light that morning, anxious to be on his way. As the senior officer of the posse, Drake addressed the group of men boldly directly after breakfast, drawing a map in the dirt as he explained the plan. "We know where they're hiding now, so I'm calling for a full headlong assault today, as soon as we can mount up. It'll be almost like a cavalry charge...we'll ride into their camp without warning, and with guns blazing. We'll have the element of surprise with us, and therefore we'll have the upper hand. Since it'll be a surprise attack, we'll be able to take them into custody before they even know what hit them."
Murdoch strongly disagreed, wanting to use a more cautious approach. "Detective Drake, we don't know anything about the man who gave us this tip. It's too much of a coincidence that he just happened to show up out of the blue with the information we needed about the exact location of that gang! Instead, we need to assume that he's probably attempting to lead us into a trap. We have no idea who he really was. How do we know he himself isn't one of the gang, sent to lead us into danger? I believe our mission's secrecy has been compromised somehow, and I strongly urge caution in this matter. We should send out some scouts first...a couple of .men who can make sure the Charbonneaus are really there where the visitor says they are. They can come back with vital information about the gang's numbers, sentries, and armament...and then we'd know for certain what we were riding into. We have an excellent tracker with us, so let's employ his talents..."
Drake refused to listen to reason. "Why would we need scouts? Why risk two men's lives when we'd have better odds if we all stick together? No...I'm in charge of this posse, and I say we challenge them directly and be done with it. That way we'll be home sooner...before we run into any heavy snow..."
After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, a man spoke up. "Detective Drake, you don't know me, so let me introduce myself. I'm Jimmy McLeod. I work for the Pinkertons now, but in the past, I've done some tracking for Detective Murdoch. One thing I learned during that time is that Murdoch knows what he's doing, and if he thinks it might be a trap, I trust his judgment. Anyway, I grew up in these woods...it'd be nothing at all for me to scout ahead, and I guarantee if I do find them, they'd never know I was there. It'd take some extra time, but we'd be safer in the long run."
Constable Haskins, Drake's right hand man, rolled his eyes at the suggestion. "Who gives a tinker's damn about what Murdoch thinks? Everyone knows he's basically a cowardly weakling who hides behind that big brain of his. Takes him forever to solve even the simplest of cases, 'cause he's always so goddamn cautious...gotta study things down to the tiniest detail instead of makin' a straightforward decision about who's guilty..."
Another posse member swore as he spit on the ground in front of Jimmy. "And I don't need to trust some goddamn Injun to do my tracking for me if'n we already know where those bastards are hidin'…"
Clearly incensed, Jackson clenched his fists and took a step forward. "You watch your filthy mouths, both of ya. Detective Murdoch has one of the highest solve rates in the Constabulary, and if he says Jimmy's a good tracker, the man's a good tracker. Maybe you fellas should quit yappin' and listen to reason for a change!"
"That's enough, gentlemen." Murdoch's angry glare shamed all of them into silence. Turning to Detective Drake, he continued, his annoyance betrayed by the hard edge in his voice. "We need to consider every option before we make a decision, Jarvis. We have the responsibility for the posse's safety on our shoulders. There's no need to risk unnecessary bloodshed if we can avoid it by taking a few hours' time to do some scouting."
"I've already made my decision, Murdoch. We're going to take the Charbonneaus out while we can...and we're going to do it immediately. Now, if you and your men aren't brave enough to ride with us, well then, I guess you cowards can just hold down the fort until we get back, but believe me, when we return to Toronto, I'll be sure to let the Chief Constable know just what kind of spineless detective works at Station House 4."
"I hope you do make it back to Toronto, Jarvis." Crossing his arms over his chest, Murdoch held Drake in his stern gaze. "I'll be glad to take any correction the Chief Constable deems necessary in this matter when we return home, but for now, I'm telling you that in this case, discretion is the better part of valor. We need significantly more information before we choose a course of action, or the results could be disastrous for all of us."
"Says you." Speaking to the men gathered around, Detective Drake pointed towards their horses. "So, fellas...if you want to ride with me and get this job done in a hurry, let's saddle up! Otherwise, you can stay here with Grandpa Murdoch."
He turned to Murdoch with a nasty smirk. "I hope you and the malingering poltroons who choose to trust your 'instincts' have fun waiting here at home while the rest of us go do a man's job. Make sure you keep the home fires burning. We'll be back soon, children…"
"Sir! You can't talk to Detective Murdoch like that! I won't allow it." Jackson was scowling angrily, ready to knock Drake down a peg.
Speaking quietly, Murdoch shook his head. "That's enough, Constable. Detective Drake is entitled to his opinion, even if it's based on wrongheaded bravado." Stoic in the face of such disparagement, Murdoch put his hand on Jackson's shoulder to keep the large man from tackling Drake. "It's fine, Gus. I don't care what he says about me. I know I'm right about this."
"But sir…" Seeing the detective's determined expression, Jackson finally backed down. "Yes, sir…"
Shaking his head, Murdoch tried one more time to convince Drake to rethink his plan. "This is suicide, Jarvis! You're setting up your men for a 'Charge of the Light Brigade' sort of tragedy! Nothing good can come from it. Please, just give me a couple of hours...I'll go with Jimmy and check out the tip and then return with a report as quickly as possible. Then we can make a better informed decision...it'll be much safer that way."
"Don't bother trying to talk me out of this, Will. My mind's made up." Scoffing, Drake waved off Murdoch's warning as he mounted his horse. "You'll see...we'll have the Charbonneau gang in custody before you can say 'Jack Robinson'...and I'll be the one who gets all the glory for the capture, and everyone will know you to be a frightened little man, too afraid to get a tough job done. Well, I suppose you'll end up getting what you deserve...the reputation of being a cowardly milksop." He raised his hand in the air to get the posse's attention. "Alright, fellas...let's ride!"
Murdoch sighed, blessing himself as he watched Drake and his men gallop away. "Please, Lord...watch over those fools…"
oooooooooo
The inspector sighed softly as he continued. "So, according to Jackson, that's exactly what happened. Against Murdoch's better judgment, the posse split into two groups: those who wanted to ride ahead with Drake, hoping to be done with things in a hurry, and those who trusted Murdoch's reasoning instead. Murdoch argued with Drake up to the last minute...up to the point where he and his men mounted their horses and rode away, but Drake simply ignored the detective's logic...even calling Murdoch a coward for refusing to take part in the charge."
"William is no coward…we both know that." Sighing sadly, Julia nodded in understanding. "I take it things didn't work out well for Drake and his men…"
"I'm afraid not. As it turned out, it was just as Murdoch predicted...a well laid trap. The gang was lying in wait for the posse to show up. The so-called reliable tip ended up leading that part of the posse straight into Hell. Drake was shot and killed almost as soon as they came upon the camp, and apparently, the rest of his party was decimated within minutes. From what I gather, out of the eight men that rode with him, only two men returned from the sortie, and they were both badly wounded. In fact, one of them died the next morning. However, the posse did manage to do some damage, taking down some of the thugs, so I suppose their sacrifice was not in vain..."
"Still...that's so terribly sad, especially since it could've been avoided.," Julia sighed. "If only Drake had trusted William's intellect…"
"Aye...fools rushing in where angels fear to tread, you know? It's unfortunate that Drake was too stubborn to listen to reason…"
Pausing a few seconds, Julia bit her lip, hoping she wouldn't cry. "But I don't understand, Tom. You said William was wounded…but he wasn't with Drake..."
"So what happened? Right." The inspector grunted softly. "So the rest of the posse were left to figure out what to do next. Their number had been greatly reduced by the failed raid, and they also realized that Charbonneaus knew for sure they were being followed by a posse...there'd be no hiding that fact anymore. They'd be on the move in a hurry, making a run for home...trying to reach Cochrane as fast as they could so they could disappear into the hills." The inspector grimaced as he continued. "They also had at least two days head start, because Murdoch insisted on going into Huntsville to make arrangements so the remains of those who'd been killed in the raid could be sent home."
"Thinking of their families…knowing that they'd want their loved ones buried close by..." Julia dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief. "That sounds just like him…"
Brackenreid nodded. "Yes, it does. He's a good man, Doctor, and he wanted to do the right thing, but then the posse had to ride hard to make up for lost time. Fortunately, Murdoch had hired an Indian tracker from the Pinkerton Agency to ride with the posse...Jimmy McLeod, who'd worked with us on that 'werewolf' case…"
"Yes, I remember him…"
"And since the Charbonneau gang was traveling in such a hurry, they weren't too difficult to track, even if they did have a huge head start. Eventually Murdoch and McLeod figured out that they were headed to the Charbonneaus' family homestead south of Cochrane."
Julia's brow furrowed as she thought over that statement. "But how would they know exactly where that was? It's mostly wilderness around there. Even with an experienced tracker, it would be almost impossible to find the exact place, wouldn't it?"
Shaking his head at her questions, Tom chuckled. "Well, that's the clever part. Murdoch cooked up quite the undercover scheme for the whole posse to take part in…"
Julia was astonished. "An undercover scheme? I don't understand…"
"Neither did I, at first, but according to Jackson, here's what happened. The men with Murdoch were all looking shaggy and unkempt, having been on the road for weeks. They definitely didn't look like lawmen, so he decided to use that to their advantage. They rode into Cochrane together, arriving a few days after the gang, presenting themselves as a logging crew who were leaving their camp for the winter." The inspector let go a sardonic laugh. "Jackson said Murdoch was like some fanatical schoolmaster as he drilled the men on how lumbermen speak and act, wanting to make sure they'd pass for loggers when they were with the locals, and it worked. They spent a couple of days in the town, buying supplies and listening as the townsfolk gossiped about the Charbonneaus and their exploits. That's how they knew where the homestead was. People were constantly talking about it...about where the brothers would be most likely to hide. It was quite the plan..."
Oooooooooo
Spurring his horse along, Murdoch sighed quietly, looking over the group of men accompanying him as they galloped as fast as they could towards Cochrane, and breathing a prayer to St. Jude as he considered their current lost cause.
In addition to Gus and Jimmy, there were four other constables in the group...young men, strong, brave, and full of enthusiasm for the chase...willing to do whatever it took to bring the Charbonneaus to justice.
Unfortunately, in this case, enthusiasm, strength and bravery might not be enough for them to be successful in their quest. In addition to his group being woefully outmanned, many of its members were lacking in any real law enforcement experience. The younger constables normally walked beats in quiet small towns, rarely facing anything more dangerous than some drunkard's rowdy challenge. How would they react when they came face to face with the likes of the dangerous Charbonneau brothers?
A stray thought kept cropping up in Murdoch's mind as they rode on. He'd been surprised that those stalwart young men hadn't chosen to ride with Drake, since they were so looking forward to joining the fray and getting the job done. When he finally asked them about their reasoning in that regard, their answers had been surprisingly simple. It seemed Jackson, being from a small town himself, had befriended all of them, and where he went, they would go as well.
"The constable's kindness towards those young constables has very likely saved their lives. I need to remember to tell the Inspector about that...we need some sort of commendation for Jackson when we return…"
As the hours passed, another idea began to form in Murdoch's mind. It was a harebrained scheme to be sure, but given the situation, he was inclined to be desperate, deciding that perhaps this was one time when he had to ignore his deep seated abhorrence of irrational thinking. With the odds stacked against them as they were, there really was no other way to handle things. He'd have to be creative, and willing to take risks when it came to implementing his plan of action.
He explained his bold plan to his posse as they sat around that evening's campfire. "Gentlemen, given our reduced numbers in this posse, it's time for us to embrace a new form of combat against our foes. We're going to employ guile and subterfuge in order to gain the upper hand on our quarry." Seeing that he had their attention, he nodded resolutely. "We're going to become guerillas."
A murmur of confusion passed through the group.
Holding up his hand, Murdoch allowed himself a faint smile. "No, not like the large hairy apes. What I mean is we're going to use less than traditional tactics to fight the enemy, such as those used by the Boers in the last South African conflict." Hearing their unhappy grumbling, he glanced from man to man. "I'm sorry. I know it must sound traitorous, but it can't be helped. We've a job to complete by any means necessary, correct?" Seeing that they all grudgingly agreed, he continued. "We're about a day and half from Cochrane if we ride hard. In that time period, I'm going to train you so that we can pass ourselves off as a group of loggers coming down from the north and passing through town. That way we'll be able to move about freely in Cochrane to gather information about the gang."
"Loggers?" Jackson wore a silly grin. "I'm a farmer, sir...I ain't never swung an axe against a living tree in my life…"
"We'll be lumbermen in name only. Don't worry...I'll teach you everything you need to know in order for us to pass ourselves off as a logging crew. To begin with, you'll need to stop calling me 'sir' or 'detective'. From now on, you must call me Will, or perhaps 'Boss', and I'll address each of you by your given name as well."
Seeing the group's discomfort, Murdoch chuckled softly. "You'll get used to it with practice. Also, the townspeople will expect to hear some salty language from lumberjacks, so you'll also need to be able to swear in French and in English. Fortunately, I'm bilingual when it comes to profanity, having learned when I myself was a logger up north. So, with that in mind, repeat after me, gentlemen…tabernak…"
The men responded dutifully. "Tab...er...nak…"
"Good. Use that when you're really angry. Now...Maudit…"
The men tried their best, squinting in concentration as they tried to repeat what he'd said. "Maud..dee…"
"Alright. Sacrement…"
"Sac...ray...mo…"
Murdoch groaned inwardly, realizing that he had a lot of work to do the next few days. Teaching English speaking constables to curse in intelligible French was going to be quite difficult. "Not bad, I suppose. Well, if all else fails, just curse in English or simply grunt and scowl if someone asks you a question. I'll be our spokesman when we purchase supplies, so don't worry about that. Anyway, the point is for you to listen instead of talking. If we pay attention to the gossip while we're in town, we should be able to find out where the Charbonneaus are hiding. Now, again...repeat after me...marde…"
ooooooooooo
Gasping softly, Julia's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh my goodness! So they were going to hide in plain sight while they were in Cochrane? That was so dangerous! What if they'd been discovered to be with the Toronto Constabulary? And why didn't William just talk to the town's police force?"
"He didn't know who he could trust. For all he knew, the Charbonneau family might've run the whole town…including the constabulary."
"So William took it all upon himself, just like always, and decided that the whole group should go undercover...and he trained them all to act like loggers." Julia sat agape in wonder as she considered William's plan. "And I'm sure he was absolutely certain of his success, like he's absolutely certain of most things he does. He can be such an ass sometimes…"
"Yeah, he can...but in this case, he knew exactly what he was doing...just like he usually does." Scratching his chin, the inspector explained what happened next. "They spent a couple of days in the town, gathering information and scouting out the place. That's how they found out that the Charbonneau family has a compound in the forest south of Cochrane. There's only one way into the property, and it's secluded, surrounded by some low tree covered hills, so the gang probably thought it'd be easy to defend. However, they had no idea who they were up against."
"William had a plan to capture them…" Julia sighed quietly. "Yes, of course he did…and it was probably well thought out, but still extremely dangerous..."
"It was a smart, crazy, daring plan...so daring, I'm not sure I would've believed Murdoch was the one to come up with it if Jackson hadn't been there to see it for himself." The inspector nodded resolutely. "Makes me damn proud to know the man, if you'll excuse my language, Doctor. I'm glad he's on our side…"
"So what happened?," the doctor asked anxiously. "Please don't keep me in suspense, Tom…"
"Right, then. Well, Murdoch had come prepared to wage a different kind of war against the Charbonneaus...one fought with unconventional weapons in addition to guns. See, he and Jimmy instructed the members of the posse to scatter themselves among the trees surrounding the cabin. They were silent and stealthy, looking out for sentries as they approached the place, but I guess since the Charbonneaus felt at home, they didn't post any guards. Finally, when the posse members were in place, Murdoch signaled them with that portable torch of his, and then all hell broke loose."
"I don't understand…" Julia was puzzled as she gazed at the Inspector. "What happened?"
The inspector was happy to explain the plan. "Well…"
Oooooooooo
The night was black and cold as the posse silently crept up close to the stone cabin in the middle of the Charbonneaus' property. Soon they were standing in a tight circle around Murdoch, attentive as they listened to their instructions.
Speaking in a whisper, Murdoch glanced over his shoulder at the house before detailing his plan. "Gentlemen...I assume your sidearms are loaded and you have extra ammunition with you, correct?" Seeing the men nod, he continued. "Excellent. Now, each of you...apply some of this boot black to your face, and take some of these."
He handed each man several strings of Chinese firecrackers and some matches. "At my signal, you're to light the fuses and throw the firecrackers on the ground around the main cabin. The explosions will make enough noise to sound like every weapon in an armory going off at the same time, but without hurting anything. They should be loud enough to get the occupants' attention, so they'll have to come outdoors to investigate...and then, Jimmy, you'll light these kerosene bottle bombs and throw them in through the back windows, so the place catches on fire. That way they won't be able to go back inside the cabin to hide or to take potshots at us. After the fire gets started, we'll move on to the next wave of our assault. Does everyone understand?" Seeing the men nod again, Murdoch pointed off into the darkness. "Good! So...take your places now and wait for my signal…"
A few minutes later, the men were in position, anxiously waiting for their cue. Finally satisfied that things were in place as he wanted, Murdoch turned the flashlight on and then off three times.
A series of loud pops was then heard in rapid succession. The diversion had worked...the large group of men who'd been occupying the cabin came running out with their guns drawn to see what was going on. Hearing the crackling of the blaze from inside the cabin, Murdoch signaled again, and the posse launched the next barrage. Murdoch had given each of the posse members 'grenades' to deploy after the firecrackers had exploded.
The perchlorate grenades blew up in splendid fashion, creating tremendous amounts of smoke and noise along with bright flashes of light, causing the gang to become temporarily blinded and very disoriented. The criminals were shouting and cursing as they tried to figure out what kind of hell was happening outside their hideout. The ruckus became louder as they realized the cabin behind them was on fire as well. The gang members were now sitting ducks for the posse members to pick off one by one.
Murdoch stepped toward the astonished men and spoke loudly. "Toronto Constabulary! Your cabin is on fire, you're surrounded by a posse, and now you're all under arrest. Throw down your weapons and give yourselves up!"
Standing almost six and a half feet tall, Armand Charbonneau squared his shoulders and spat on the ground. "On s'en calisse, batard! Decriss!"
Standing with his hands on hips, Murdoch pretended to smile. "Et t'es une osti de vidange, Charbonneau! Now, drop your weapons…give up while you can, before you all get yourselves killed..."
"Non…j'm'en calice what you say, okay? I make my own rules. Now…" A wicked grin spread across Armand's face. "...since you swear pretty good for une ostie de colon, I'm gonna let you leave without you getting shot in the back, okay?" Chuckling sarcastically, the large man eyed Murdoch before continuing in a sarcastic tone. "You're like un petit coq, aren't you? You think you're a big brave man, but instead, you're a little fella who's all noise and no brains...so walk away, while I'm feeling generous..."
Glancing at the posse standing behind him, Murdoch shook his head, eying the larger man with disdain before cocking his pistol. "J'ai le feu au cul. Put the gun down, Charbonneau...now…or I'll be forced to shoot you right between the eyes...and I promise you...I won't miss..."
"Esti de calice de tabernak...come and take this gun from me, if you dare, batard…" Charbonneau raised his pistol and shot at Murdoch, but the bullet missed its mark as the detective simply stepped back into the darkness, shielded from view by the thick smoke that still hung in the air from the grenade explosions.
"Don't just stand there, boys!," Charbonneau roared furiously. "Shoot them…"
Quickly grabbing his flashlight, Murdoch signaled the posse before barking out his orders. "Stay back in the smoke and the darkness and aim for their muzzle flashes..."
In the hail of bullets that followed, the posse killed two of the gang right away and wounded two others. "Have you had enough, Charbonneau? I know you must be low on ammunition, since you can't get more from the cabin. Surrender while you have a chance…"
There was a lull in the gunfire, and the detective could hear the gang discussing their options and pleading with Armand against the backdrop of the burning cabin, but their words were soon drowned out as more shots rang through the night. "No...we won't give up...not to the likes of you! Mon tabernak j'vais te decalisser la yeule!" Stepping forward, Charbonneau raised his pistol to fire at Jackson, but Murdoch shoved the constable out of the way and then caught the bullet in the left shoulder, falling backwards from the force of the shot.
"Sir!" As the gun battle continued, Jackson hovered over the detective, trying to shield him from gunfire as he staunched the flow of blood with his fingers. "Are you alright, sir?"
"I will be..." Pushing himself up to a seated position with a loud groan, Murdoch raised the gun in his right hand and fired off some more rounds. "...as soon as they all surrender…"
oooooooooo
"It's amazing that they weren't all killed, but somehow, they made it through that battle." Inspector Brackenreid shook his head in disbelief. "Finally, after more gunfire from the posse, Armand was the last man standing. He was out of ammunition, but he was still defiant, even as Murdoch tried to take him into custody, and he attacked the detective with a heavy hunting knife…"
Hearing Julia's gasp, the inspector continued quietly. "Those two men wrestled around on the ground for a minute or two. Armand Charbonneau is a big man, several inches over six feet, and having at least eighty pounds on Murdoch, and so he managed to break some of Murdoch's ribs and dislocate his right shoulder before he stabbed him in the right side of the chest...but as I've said, Murdoch's a tough man. Somehow he managed to knee Charbonneau hard in the groin and then rolled away from him, and when he did, Jackson nailed Armand on the back of his head with the butt of a rifle. I guess that big, ugly bastard went down like a ton of bricks." Brackenreid nodded resolutely. "So, as it turned out...Murdoch's group killed five of the criminals, and captured four more, including one of the gang's leaders in Armand Charbonneau. There were none killed among the posse, though some were wounded, with Murdoch having the worst of it."
Fighting to remain calm as she listened to the description of William's injuries, Julia nodded. "And then what happened?"
"The posse took Murdoch into town as soon as they could to get him patched up, but the doctor there wasn't much help, I guess. He managed to extract the bullet from the left shoulder, popped the dislocated right shoulder back into place, bound the ribs in place and bandaged the stab wound, but he said he couldn't do much else except give him some laudanum..."
"William must've been in so much pain...and his wounds could've been easily infected without further treatment…" Julia brushed away a tear. "How did they get him home?"
"They made him as comfortable as they could, put him and Jackson in a prisoners' wagon, and then drove the men to Englehart as quickly as they could. When they arrived there, they put him and Jackson, along with the prisoners and another man from the posse, on the train to Toronto. The rest of the posse came home on a later train."
"How long ago did this shootout occur, Tom?" Julia's medical training had begun to come into play. "And is the bleeding under control?"
"I think it was about five days ago. Murdoch has lost quite a bit of blood since being shot and stabbed, but Jackson says the bleeding eventually tapered off during the two days they were on the train..."
"And has Jackson mentioned whether or not William is running a fever?"
"He didn't say." The inspector pointed to the carriage's window. "Ah...here we are at the hospital. I guess you can find out more information about Murdoch's condition for yourself now…"
Sighing softly as he helped her out of the carriage, Julia nodded. "You're right, Tom. Let's go see how William is."
She smiled faintly as she smoothed her skirt and patted her hair into place once again. And after I make sure he's doing well, I'm going to give that rash and reckless man a rather large piece of my mind...
So...there it is. If you have time to review, I'd appreciate it...and I promise that you won't have to wait as long for the next chapter! Laura.