Chapter 16: Not According To Plan
Frost nipped the grass creating a crunching sound under the students' feet as they ran about the schoolyard. The large wooden doors opened and their smiling teacher greeted each one of them as they bustled through the school room door. The students gathered together in front of the blazing schoolroom furnace where they started unraveling their outerwear.
Elizabeth raised a hand to wave at the already retreating parents—searching for one handsome face alone, completely unconsciously. It didn't matter that she knew full well that he was waking up a day's ride from here. This time of morning with all of the parents dropping off students was a time that she counted on. He was always there—her steady pillar of red and her sentinel standing watch.
The parents had all left. And yet she stood another moment, still lost in her thoughts, wondering where he was at this moment. She found herself praying again for his safety. A book falling off a desktop broke through her many thoughts. She closed the door tightly, shutting out the cold, before turning with a smile to greet her students.
Elizabeth walked to the front of the classroom and picked up her chalk—signaling the familiar start to the school day. Like magic, the students quieted, and the only sound was the smooth gliding of chalk on the chalkboard as she scrolled the date at the top left corner.
About halfway through their grammar lesson on adverbs, a knock sounded at the school door. Elizabeth walked briskly down the center aisle to greet the unexpected visitor when the smiling face of Florence Yost peeked around the door.
"Sorry for the interruption! I wanted to get you this message as quickly as I could. Can you give this to Allie?" Florence handed Elizabeth a slip of paper in her beautifully scrolled cursive.
"It's a message from her father," Florence clarified.
Elizabeth accepted the paper and Allie hurried down the aisle to receive it with a grin. She opened her paper and a warm smile crossed her face as she read. Then, she started to giggle and shake her head. Elizabeth and Florence looked at her curiously, and she held up her note for them to read while she explained, "Uncle Gabe told me to keep my nose clean."
Elizabeth's brow furrowed further as she lightly chuckled. "And what does that mean?"
Allie's face lit up at the memory. "Well when I was four years old and first went to live with my dad, Uncle Gabe came to help us. Dad ran to the store and asked Uncle Gabe to watch me. So he and I started playing hide and seek…."
"Oh no…" Elizabeth and Florence muttered in unison, as two seasoned mothers.
"And I hid in the fireplace and covered myself in the ashes. Uncle Gabe looked all over for me, but I'm a good hider."
Florence covered her mouth in surprise and Elizabeth's eyes flared as she tried to maintain professional composure.
"He said that I was completely gray…except for my nose. That's when Dad came back. He was surprised, but Uncle Gabe pointed at me and said, 'At least I kept her nose clean." Allie shrugged with a laugh—her eyes twinkling at her past mischief, "It's been kind of our thing ever since."
A smile broke free finally on Elizabeth's lips over the story, but Florence remained momentarily in a mild state of shock.
"That's really sweet Allie." Elizabeth turned back to Florence, "Thank you for bringing her note over first thing this morning."
"Oh, and Elizabeth?…There's a message for you too." Florence emphasized the last two words and collective whispers and giggles could be heard across the classroom.
Elizabeth blushed, but attempted her best teacher voice. "Oh. Thank you Mrs. Yost."
She opened the message and her blush deepened, but it did her heart a world of good to know that he was thinking about her while out on Mountie business. She hadn't expected to hear from him this morning—especially after the surprise phone call last night.
"Thank you, Florence." Elizabeth refolded the paper and clutched it close to her chest.
"Would you like me to send any telegrams in response? I can get them out right away."
Elizabeth and Allie looked at each other and nodded excitedly at the opportunity. Florence handed them each a pencil and a slip of paper.
———
It was another cool mountain morning as the Mounties polished off the last of their fried cornmeal and eggs. Edwin Fraser's opinion of his mother's cooking proved to be true as she had yet again transformed mere military rations into fine alpine cuisine.
Starting this afternoon, they were at the mercy of Nathan's campfire cooking. Hopefully Morley or Fraser proved to be a better camp cook, because Nathan was bound and determined to keep Kinslow from serving "breakfast beans" or something worse.
The Cafe was packed this morning with Mounties getting their last meal before heading out on their prospective tracking missions. The air was filled with chatter and the savory smells of bacon grease.
The clanging bell at the door stilled the noise momentarily as all conversation seemed to pause at the sight of the visitor. A young woman with braided hair stood uncomfortably at their sudden undivided attention—her hands filled with paper slips. Gabriel recognized her as the lady from the General Store who worked the telegraph machine. It seemed others must have recognized her as well.
"Uh…hi. I have messages for…" she rifled through the stack of messages in her hand, "Constables LeClair…Owens…Frewin…Kinslow…Grant…Hébert…" she continued to rattle off names as the men came forward to claim their messages from her hand.
Gabriel seemed to float towards her—excited to have gotten a message back already from Lillian. He nodded and smiled in thanks at the woman—before he unfolded the paper to read,
"GABRIEL SENDING A KISS ACTIONS SPEAK LOUDER THAN WORDS YOURS LILLIAN" He refolded the paper, but his blushing smile said it all.
The second message read, "UNCLE GABE ILL TRY TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF & MY DAD"
Nathan was too busy unfolding his messages to mercilessly tease his friend. A warm smile spread across his face as well as he read, "DAD THANKS I MISS YOU TAKE CARE LOVE ALLIE"
The other message read, "NATHAN ILL START BAKING BE SAFE COME HOME TO ME ELIZABETH"
Nathan and Gabriel slowly walked back to their table. Mounties without messages were steadily filing out the door while the few with telegrams finished reading, and a few even wrote back quick messages—handing them over to the patiently waiting blonde.
Morley checked his pocket watch, cleared his throat, and stood. Nathan and Gabriel also stood at the edge of the table and grabbed their bill folds for a tip for Effie. Ed sat for just a moment more, furiously scratching out a note to his older sister in place of his tip.
"Let me guess, 'Don't stand behind a horse?" Nathan guessed, craning his neck towards the scribbled note with a raised eye brow.
Fraser smiled shaking his head mischievously. "Close. That is a good tip though. I went with, 'Don't eat yellow snow."
Gabriel smiled and laughed to himself, "Great tip."
"Alright, guys let's get out of here before Fraser's sister finds her… tip." Morley interjected—as the voice of reason. "The whole Cafe is practically clear and Corporal Usher has sent most everyone out already."
"Right, well there's just one thing left to decide. Who is picking up the rations?" Nathan asked while simultaneously placing a finger on his nose.
Knowing Nathan, Gabriel quickly picked up on his game and placed a finger on his own nose as well. Morley followed suit, while Fraser stood there bewildered at what in the world just happened.
"Some things they don't teach you at the Academy, Kid." Morley joked nudging Fraser's shoulder, "Guess you just volunteered to grab the rations."
Fraser sighed and stood at last. Morley continued, "C'mon, we'll go ready the horses and meet you back here."
"Don't forget to grab some extra coffee for Grant. He gets grumpy without it," Gabriel teased.
"I do not!" Nathan glared at Kinslow.
"See?" Gabriel deadpanned.
Fraser shifted nervously—uncertain how to respond and not wanting to put himself in the hot seat either for teasing. Thankfully the other three Mounties started laughing at Gabriel's joke.
The older Mounties turned to leave as Fraser made his way back towards the kitchen. Stepping through the swinging doors of the kitchen, he spotted his mother hard at work over the griddle—flipping eggs and a side of pancakes.
Sweat beaded her brow, and she took a dishcloth and wiped her forehead as the food sizzled as it cooked. Her dark tresses had only a few streaks of silver and they were neatly pinned up behind her head with a simple comb. Almost instinctively, she turned at the sound of boots in the kitchen. Her wire rimmed glasses framed her kind hazel eyes and she wore the smile of a mother that was deeply proud of her son.
"Hi Ma." Edwin managed, adjusting his own glasses in a fidget.
"Oh Edwin. My you look handsome in that brown serge." She turned back for just a moment to move the eggs and pancakes off the heat and onto a plate.
Fraser blushed as his eyes flared in embarrassment, "Ma…shhhh!"
His mother threw her hands up in hushed apology. "You came for the rations?" She whispered—although she didn't need to.
Edwin nodded. "Any chance you can throw in some extra coffee?"
"Oh Honey, of course. I packed you some extra muffins for your friends too." She added the coffee and turned with the box of supplies in her hands.
"Ma…they're my fellow officers…my co-workers…they're not my friends."
"You might be surprised, Son. You're one of them." She handed him the box with a wink. "They're called brothers in arms for a reason…just pretend like the muffins were normal rations, but they're still yours to take."
Edwin smiled a half smile at her thoughtfulness. "Thanks, Ma." He quickly kissed her cheek and headed for the door.
"Edwin?" He froze in the doorway and turned to look back. "Trust your instincts out there. I'll be praying for you, Son. I already have been."
Edwin nodded and swallowed as his eyes glistened with tears. "Thanks, Ma. I'll be careful. I love you." His last words were a mere whisper, but meaningful nonetheless.
"Love you too." She whispered back, mindful that she could be overheard.
No sooner had Fraser left the door, Effie hustled into the kitchen—her face drained of all its color. "Ma, I think it's the guys…the…the bandits."
Her mother rushed to her side, "Are you sure? Effie, how do you know?"
"They just came in after everyone cleared out. Table six near the door. They're pretending to be miners coming in for breakfast, but they should have been at the mines a half hour ago for their shift then." Effie paced across the kitchen wringing her hands on her apron speaking quietly to her mother. "Their faces are all covered in coal dust, but then it sounded like they hadn't started work yet today. They have thick Russian accents. I've never seen them before."
"We've got to catch Edwin before he leaves town. He just left here." She glanced out the window hoping to see any sign of her son. "Take this food to table three and then go fill their waters. Just pretend like I'm cooking their breakfast. I don't want them to suspect anything. I'm going to try to flag down your brother or at least Constable Bailey. Oh Lord help us!"
Effie grabbed the plate of pancakes and eggs with a trembling hand while her mother slipped out the back door.
Searching frantically for any of the Mounties, Mrs. Fraser was pleased to find her son's group still packing their rations into their saddlebags.
Nathan saw the woman frantically approaching, "M'aam? Can we help you?"
"Yes. Come to the Cafe right away. There are two men that we think might be your bandits." The look on her face was laced with concern.
"Effie." Fraser breathed as he reached for his holster.
Morley put a strong hand on his shoulder. "Just a minute there, Son. We've got to call in backup. We can't just go in there guns blazing."
"How do you want to alert Usher and Bailey? We can't just go waltz in front of the Cafe without creating a stir." Nathan asked Morley.
Morley considered a moment. "M'aam, have the customers seen you, yet?"
"No Sir, I've been in the kitchen cooking. In fact…I think I've still got cornmeal on the griddle." She glanced back nervously at the kitchen door.
Morley nodded to the others and formulated a quick plan. "M'aam, I need you to walk directly over to the RCMP office and go tell Corporal Usher and Constable Bailey. You have to walk, though, so you don't raise any suspicion. Do you understand? Try to act as normal as you can, ok? This is important for Effie's safety."
She nodded with tears in her eyes. "Ok. Please help my daughter."
"We'll do everything we can. I'll promise you that. Now go," Morley's eyes spoke volumes of the sincerity of his promise.
She hustled to the corner of the building before resuming a normal pace now that she was within sight of the Cafe.
Morley turned to the group. "Kinslow, go man the griddle. Do us a favor and don't burn the place down."
"Eh, I'd better take the griddle then," Nathan laughed as Gabriel narrowed his eyes at him.
"Fine. Actually both of you head to the kitchen. I want it sealed off so there is no way for them to escape. Fraser and I will watch this side of the building. We'll leave the front entrance and the northern half to Usher and Bailey." Everyone nodded in approval of Morley's plan.
Nathan and Gabriel sprinted quietly back to the kitchen's rear entrance and cracked open the door. A smoky haze greeted them as the cornmeal charred over on the sizzling and popping griddle. Gabriel held the door open to clear out some of the smoke while Nathan turned off the heat and scraped the griddle clean.
Effie returned with wide eyes and an empty pitcher to find two Mounties hidden behind a layer of smoke standing in front of her mother's griddle. "Oh thank goodness you're here. But where's Ma?" She whispered.
"Getting backup." Nathan whispered.
"They're getting antsy for their food. What should I do?" Effie paced back and forth in front of the griddle.
Nathan and Gabriel looked at each other—both considering their options. Neither wanted to send her back out there—potentially in harm's way, yet they still needed more time.
"Don't even ask me to wear that frilly apron." Gabriel warned, recognizing the smirk at the corner of Nathan's mouth.
"Well you obviously can't be trusted with the griddle…" Nathan started. He cracked a few eggs onto the edges of the turned off, but still smoking hot griddle—cooking the eggs over easy almost instantly. Nathan scraped them onto a plate as he looked up at his friend, "Do you have a better idea?"
The sound of rustling and shouting voices in the Cafe answered for them.
"RCMP! HANDS UP!"
"WHAT FOR?" An accented man responded curtly.
"HOLD THEM UP!"
Nathan gestured silently to Gabriel and he quietly took Effie by the hand guiding her to the back door. "Go…and stay away from the front of the Cafe! Hurry!"
Movement at the back exit caught Morley's and Fraser's attention and they were relieved to see Effie streaking out the back door. Catching his sister's eye, he pointed to the Brazeau Colleries office and she quickly ducked inside to safety.
Back inside, Nathan quietly opened the swinging kitchen door—releasing more of the griddle smoke into the Cafe, but concealing his entrance.
Corporal Usher and Constable Bailey stood just inside the cafe and had their pistols trained on Arkoff and Bassoff who looked alarmed, yet defiant sitting at one of the front tables.
The taller mustached man of the two put down his glass of water confidently, and asked again with irritation lacing his words, "What for?"
The shorter man seated with him grew increasingly nervous, but looked intently at the other man between anxious glances at the policemen.
Nathan crept along the cafe floor ducking along the tables and booths remaining to the backs of the bandits, but in full-view of Usher and Bailey.
Gabriel crouched at the ready in the doorway of the kitchen securing the back exit—as planned.
Growing impatient, Usher cocked back his pistol. The taller man sighed loudly before he pulled a heavy German military-issued revolver with his hidden hand from under the table, striking Usher in the chest with a single bullet. Constable Bailey took aim, but the bandits flipped the heavy table on its side. They disappeared behind it—only to reappear for long enough to take another shot at a still stunned Usher and already retreating Bailey.
Backing up quickly and diving off to their own booths, Corporal Usher and Constable Bailey were separated and under heavy gunfire. Seven shots rang out in rapid succession as Usher, Bailey, and Grant all fired into the booth from all directions. The smokey haze from the griddle cast an eerie fog on the scene.
Nathan continued to scramble among the booths looking for an open shot. There was a moan coming from under the tables, but from whom it was from, Nathan couldn't tell. Thankfully, the Cafe was almost completely empty this time of morning—with the exception of a few townspeople who were huddled in booths under their tables near the door.
The mustached man appeared again from behind the table—a mere shadow behind the blaze of his gun before he disappeared just as quickly. Nathan fired off a round into the table, but there was no audible response that the bullet met it's intended target.
Changing locations again, Nathan crouched under a new table in time to see the bandits rise from behind their table each firing off a shot in Usher's and Bailey's directions. Nathan raised his pistol to fire having Bassoff in his sights— until he spotted a woman huddled under a table directly behind his shot. He couldn't risk it.
A loud groan rose from the center of the room before Corporal Usher made a last running attempt towards the bandit's table, his scarlet serge already damp with the dark stain of his own blood. The unexpected action flushed the bandits from their hiding space—firing two more rounds into Usher's already falling body just a few feet inside the cafe door.
Seizing the opportunity, Arkoff and Bassoff made a run for the broken glass door. Unable to change positions and without a clear shot still, Nathan could only watch them go as they took the pistol from Usher's lifeless hand. Constable Bailey, however, was able to fire another shot at the bandits from his angle, this time grazing Arkoff in the leg.
Bailey scrambled out from behind his table chasing closely behind the bandits. Sprinting forward and reloading his gun, Bailey tripped over Corporal Usher's body sending him through the broken door and directly into the return fire from Bassoff striking him through the chest.
Bailey could hardly breathe as he pushed himself up on his elbows to take one last shot at their retreating backs.
The bandits scurried down Main Street seemingly getting away until two shots rang out in rapid fire from the RCMP barracks. Constable Frewin leaned halfway out the window with a long rifle striking George Arkoff through the chest and taking him down immediately where he lay crumpled in a pool of his own blood on the dirt road.
Without breaking his stride at his fallen partner, Thomas Bassoff continued to sprint for the nearby woods for cover. He was struck through the arm with another of Frewin's sniper shots not five paces from the fallen Arkoff.
With adrenaline pumping, Bassoff continued down the road leaving a steady trail of his own blood behind him. Bullets flew—striking the branches around him until he seemingly disappeared from sight.
Fraser took off in a dead sprint at Bassoff's disappearance yelling, "Nooooo! He's headed for the slide!"
But it was too late. The rock slide had a steep grade and it was dangerous to traverse alone on a normal day—let alone a day where there was likely an armed criminal at the bottom. The slide gave way to a boulder field on the side of the mountain with some boulders as large as a two story building.
Fraser came to a defeated stop recognizing his limits—despite his inexperience. He sank to his haunches with his head in his hands in defeat.
Morley jogged up behind him putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "It's not over yet, Son. He's not going anywhere quickly and by the looks of that blood, he should be easy to find. Let's not do anything foolish. Frewin is on his way, and we'll keep guard from up here until we get more backup. You did everything you could."
Fraser nodded somberly at the new plan.
——
Meanwhile back at the Bellevue Cafe, Gabriel had sprung to action once the threat had passed with the bandits fleeing out the front door. Gabriel wasted no time gathering frightened citizens from under the tables and booths and ushered them out the back door to safety and away from the shootout happening in the street.
Nathan climbed out quickly from under the table and reached Corporal Usher first—although his glassy eyes confirmed Nathan's fears. He was already gone. A moan and raspy breath from the front door drew Nathan's attention, and he ran to Constable Bailey whose boots were still struggling for traction through the broken glass door.
With Arkoff on the ground and Bassoff sprinting for the woods, Nathan noticed another shot from the RCMP office—this time striking Bassoff through the arm. The criminal continued to run, and at this distance Nathan's pistol wouldn't have been able to bring him down. Morley and Fraser, however, were in hot pursuit running after him with Frewin leaving the office and already on their tail.
Nathan crouched next to Constable Bailey assessing him for injuries, but the growing stain through his olive uniform jacket told Nathan that the outcome of the local Alberta police officer was already decided. Frederick Bailey's eyes had a desperate look to them as he rasped out, "Sorry. I…couldn't…stop them."
Nathan took the older man's trembling hand and squeezed it. "Frewin did." His eyes steeled at the memory. "Arkoff is gone and Bassoff escaped, but we will find him. The Mounties always get…"
"Their…man." Bailey finished at a whisper. He gave a half smile to Nathan, and his eyes shifted to something in the distant sky. His features relaxed, and his hand went limp.
Nathan ran his free hand over Bailey's eyelids, closing them gently. Constable Bailey may not have been a Mountie, but the Alberta Provincial Police still worked closely with the Mounties, and it was a partnership Nathan intended to honor even in this small act.
It was never easy to lose a man, let alone two men. Nathan remained crouched and unmoving—still clutching Bailey's hand when he felt a supportive hand on his own shoulder.
"You did everything you could have done, Nathan." Gabriel's voice soothed gently. Nathan let out a breath.
"And how do you know that I was thinking that?" Nathan cocked his head to the side looking up with haunted eyes.
"Because I know you, and I just saw everything." Nothing but compassion shone from Gabriel's eyes.
"But Gabe, I had him…" his voice caught with emotion, and he gingerly set down Bailey's hand.
"You know as well as I do that you would have risked that woman's life. You couldn't take that shot. Bailey knew it too. You've got to quit doing this to yourself, Nathan." Gabriel's tone was stern, but compassionate—as only a trusted friend could deliver.
Nathan blinked and nodded silently, unable to argue. Gabriel put out a supportive hand to help his friend up.
"C'mon. We'll cover them and find the others."
Gabriel took clean tablecloths off two of the tables and gently placed them over the fallen Constable and Corporal while Nathan stared through the floorboards lost in his thoughts.
"Nathan, it's time."
Nathan didn't respond, but he found himself moving as they stepped around Usher and Bailey and ducked through the broken glass door to the many troubled faces along Main Street.
A/N:
Sorry this took so long! It was a lot to write & I wanted to keep it as historically accurate as I could. I'll be attaching the local newspaper articles from the time (that I used for reference) in the Sunday Night Serge Facebook group.
All of the actions that Corporal Usher (RCMP), Constable Bailey (APP) & Constable Frewin (APP) as well as Thomas Bassoff & George Arkoff took during the shootout portion of this chapter are to my knowledge historically accurate. *Obviously Kinslow/Grant/Morley/Fraser are fictitious.
Special thank you to Lynn @nebula2, Sherri @pn1thrasher, and Eoin MacLean for beta reading for me & answering my many military & tactical Mountie questions this chapter.
The history behind "keep your nose clean" was based on my son Merrin's recent escapades with our fireplace ashes.