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Amongst the Indians: Part 4: Chapter 13

June 11, 2008 09:06

The broad plain stretched out before rider and horse all the way to the horizon. It was spring. The year, 1885.

Jack saw no fences, no roads and most of the time, not even a trail. For hundreds of miles not a single sign of civilization. Just the endless yellow turf of the plain.

As the hooves of his pony came down on the rich grassy loam it occurred to Jack that he may be seeing land that no white man had ever seen. He may be travelling over prairie that no human had ever travelled before.

The land was immense, sometimes rolling, sometimes at, but it seemed to go on forever. The plains were sometimes interrupted by great sprawling forests of birch and poplar trees. No maples here, few pine.

He tried to imagine this empty land, the great plains, from the lake country he had left, running west and north hundreds of miles. And then what? He knew that if he travelled far enough west, many months travel by horse, he would see great mountains rear up out of the earth. He knew that as he drew closer the plains would begin to roll and he would be in the foothills, next to the mountains.

He had heard of a town in the foothills. He remembered the name: Calgary.

This brought his mind back to the present.

As Cloud walked slowly westward, Jack pondered his predicament.

It had been very real to him, the suggestion that he was now probably a wanted person. It was liable to be true. The Rangers under re. Bullets ying. An order to bring aid. Off he goes, never to be seen again. What else would Lieutenant Richards think? Tom would never believe it, but what else could the others think?

It seemed inevitable. His spirit rebelled at the injustice of it, but deep inside Jack knew some would believe it was true.

He turned the options open to him over in his mind. He could seek out the unit. Turn himself in. He could truthfully tell them what had happened. Would they believe him? Lieutenant Richards might. But would a matter so serious as this be left to him? He did not think so. He felt sure it would be referred to Colonel Trubshaw, or even to General Middleton. Would they believe him? All his senses told him no. Too many times he had not been believed. He no longer retained the trust of youth.

And if they did not believe him, what then? Dismissal? Dishonour? Would there be a court martial or a trial?

Jack knew desertion under re could mean execution.

Death or dishonour! To Jack, they were equally repellant.

The only option, he realized, was to accept his fate. It had been sealed by others. He had not made it. Others had.

He must put behind him all of his past. He must forget family and friends. His future lay before him, in the west. First to Calgary, then to Victoria. If his past found him there, then perhaps across the sea to a new life. Hong Kong? China? Or to the land down under, Australia?

There he could put his past rmly behind and build a new future.

For a moment he pondered the adventure that would be his. He could win a new life and with it, honour once again.

Could he, could he? Once more he was overwhelmed by doubts. A wave of nostalgia swept over him. The sounds and smells of home, the smell of fall in the air, burning grass, the crisp nights, the rustle of crisp leaves underfoot. And what of his duty to Queen and country? His comrades in arms?

Jack was confused, but three words persisted.

They echoed through his being.

Duty, Honour, Country!

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