Notches Read Online Free Page B

said. “I want you to promise these two little girls that you will find who did this to them. They got no one else to speak for them, you know.”
    “Yah,” said Du Pré.
    “You promise them.”
    “They don’t got names,” said Du Pré, “so I say, OK, you are my people, I find this bastard.”
    Madelaine reached up and touched Du Pré on his cheek.
    “Everybody is our people,” said Madelaine. “We are Métis.”
    Du Pré nodded. That was true. The Mixed Bloods. That is pretty much everybody.
    Long time ago, my people who were in France come to the New World and they marry my people who were already here. Then we really catch hell. Whites call us Indian, Indians call us whites. English, they hang us, steal our land. Send us all across Canada, move them furs for the Hudson’s Bay Company. The Here Before Christ. Most places they were, too.
    Long time ago.
    They come down here after them English crush the Red River Rebellion, got nothing, bunches of children.
    Had each other, my people did.
    These poor girls, they have no one at all.
    They got my Madelaine, who would feed all the world. Wipe all the tears.
    They got me, too, I guess.
    I find this bastard.
    Du Pré rolled a cigarette while he waited for Father Van Den Heuvel to come back from taking a leak. The old police cruiser, light bar and sirens taken off, decals off the doors, still runs good. Runs fast.
    There were a lot of cigarette burns on the backseat, where smokes Du Pré had flicked out the window flew back in.
    Du Pré rolled a cigarette and he offered it to Father Van Den Heuvel. The big priest nodded and he took it. He had never tried to roll his own smoke. He couldn’t do it.
    “I must go,” said the big priest. “I have to drive to Miles City and see Mrs. LeBlanc. She is dying.”
    “I send her something?” said Madelaine.
    “She can’t eat,” said Father Van Den Heuvel.
    Madelaine dug around and she found a St. Christopher medal.
    Father Van Den Heuvel put it in his pocket.
    Madelaine walked him out to his car. Du Pré had some more coffee.
    Tomorrow, I got to go sign off, some cattle. His son-in-law, Raymond, did most of the brand inspections now, but Du Pré did what Raymond could not do. Cattle business was not too good. Hate someone, give them a cow. Cattle business was mostly not too good.
    Du Pré heard the priest’s car drive off. Madelaine came back.
    “You sure like, devil that poor priest,” said Du Pré.
    “Poo,” said Madelaine. “Him like it. He is a nice man.”
    Du Pré laughed.
    “Devil me, too,” he said.
    Madelaine stood in front of him, hand on her hip.
    “Fourteen, huh?” she said. “You come on now, I show you some damn fourteen.”
    After, Du Pré sat on the edge of the bed, smoking. Madelaine was in the shower. Du Pré could smell the potpourri soap she made, the smell of the steam from the hot water. The door to the bathroom was open and he could see her shape through the glass door of the shower.
    Fourteen, huh? Du Pré thought, I got as much trouble I need, just this Madelaine. She fuck good. I am a lucky man.
    Where is old Benetsee? My old coyote friend. Him, he got things to tell me that I need to hear.
    Who is, this man does these things. What does he hide behind? Where is he going? I want to kill him, where do I wait.
    Thing about good hunters, they wait well. Don’t bother them, they dream, don’t move.
    When Madelaine came out of the bathroom in her robe, toweling her thick long dark hair, Du Pré went in and he showered quickly. He dried himself and he got dressed and he went out to the kitchen.
    “I am going to Benetsee’s,” he said.
    Madelaine nodded. “Him not back.”
    Du Pré shrugged.
    “Leave him a note,” said Madelaine.
    “Don’t know, him read,” said Du Pré.
    “Then you leave him note he don’t have to read,” said Madelaine. “You leave him a loaf of my good bread.”
    She went to the kitchen and she wrapped up a loaf of bread in foil and she put it in a plastic