Black Wolf Rising (Prequel to the Bernadette Callahan Mystery Series) Read online

  Black Wolf Rising

  A Bernadette Callahan Prequel

  Lyle Nicholson

  Black Wolf Rising

  by Lyle Nicholson

  Copyright©2017 by Lyle Nicholson

  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 (except brief passages for purposes of review) without the prior permission of the author or the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to real places or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination our any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead, are entirely coincidental.

  Edited by Jessie Saunders of StormyNightPublishing.com

  Book cover design by Brandi McCann

  ISBN: 978-0995978102

  RED CUILLIN PUBLISHING

  Kelowna, BC”

  1

  September 1993

  Bernadette’s boots thudded on the hard ground. Her chest heaving, lungs burning. Why had she chosen to run? She should have stood there, taken the beating in the schoolyard. It would have been over, teachers would have run out, broken it up—she would have suffered a bloody nose maybe, no problem.

  But she’d kicked Tommy Cardinal in the groin. His grunt resounded around the reservation school. He’d called her father a white drunk—which was true. Then he called her mother an Indian whore.

  Her foot had come up with its size-eight boot attached on its own, like a horse reacting to a slap in the hindquarters. The boot’s reinforced toecap made hard contact with Tommy’s soft testicles, and he went down in a heap on the ground.

  Bernadette had only seconds to stand over him grinning before Peter and Stephen Cardinal came rushing at her. They were Tommy’s cousins, his guardians, and his muscle. Tommy was the mouthpiece, a scrawny seventeen-year-old, held back several times in grade school, to be the biggest pain in the ass at Lone Pine School for First Nations children.

  If she’d have stood there, Peter would have smacked her, and Stephen would have kicked her. Neither of them had the balls to beat her in the schoolyard. But she ran.

  She was down the path now leading towards the river. The spruce trees swayed in the wind above her, watching her run, as if saying, “You’re running into danger, turn back.”

  Peter and Stephen were gaining on her. They were taller, good runners, and both in running shoes, not boots. She dug in harder, sweat coming off her brow.

  “You half-breed bitch,” Peter yelled. “We’re going to mess you up good this time, Bernadette.”

  A chill went down her spine. What would they do to her? The path to the river went downhill—she almost lost her balance, her heels dug into the hill as she descended in large leaps down the path. She could hear them breathing behind her.

  She took a sharp right at the bottom of the path. There was a trapper’s cabin there. Old Joe Two Feathers dried his fish there. He might be there. She’d be safe if he was.

  The path narrowed. Wild rose bushes caught at her dress as she ran. Why the hell had she worn a dress? A dress with boots made her cool, but cool was stupid now. It was slowing her down.

  The cabin was in the distance. No smoke coming from the chimney. A lump came in her throat. Joe wasn’t there. She was on her own. Her boots dug into the dirt. If she could make it to the river, she could swim away from her pursuers. She was a good swimmer, while Peter and Stephen were dog paddlers at best.

  The path to the river was just past the trapper cabin, in thirty seconds she’d be there, in a minute she’d be in the river. She never made it. She tripped over a tree root, the big boots catching it squarely and sending her falling forward into the dirt.

  The fall knocked the wind out of her. She tried to get up and found four hands on her. Her run was over.

  Peter turned her over like she was a rag doll. His big face leered down at her. “Hey, Bernadette. Got you now, bitch.”

  She spit at him, bared her teeth in defiance. The last thing she wanted to do was show fear. Her fists balled in readiness to strike the moment they let her go.

  Peter slapped her across the face. “You think you’re going to bite us? You think you’re getting away? You’re going nowhere. Not until we’ve taught you a lesson you’ll never forget.”

  “What…what’re we… gonna do to her?” Stephen asked. It seemed a matter-of-fact question. He was out of breath trying to catch Bernadette and wondered what the spoils of the chase would be.

  “We’ll wait for Tommy,” Peter said.

  Tommy came limping up down the trail. Bernadette glared at him. Her green eyes flashing at him as he came into view.

  “You caught the piece of shit. Good,” Tommy screamed as he came closer.

  Bernadette fought Peter’s grip, but he held her down with both arms, pinning her harder to the ground. “I’ll slap you again, bitch,” Peter said.

  Bernadette eyed her surroundings, looking for weapons. There were rocks by the trail and a large broken branch. She took these in, judged their distance to her hands, and glared at Tommy.

  “What’re we gonna do to her, Tommy?” Stephen asked. “You want to get a long switch and give her ass a good few whacks?”

  “Hell, no,” Tommy said. “I think we’re fixing to have an old-fashioned cock party.” He smiled at Bernadette. “You know you been wanting me since you laid eyes on me in third grade. Now you got my attention. I’m all yours.”

  Bernadette spit a mouthful of blood from Peter’s slap. “You think you’re going to rape me, you got another think coming. I’ll rip your dick off, you scrawny little shit.”

  “Damn it, Bernadette, this ain’t rape, it’s you giving the boys what they want in the woods. You know you’ve been longing for it. Who’s going to believe a little half-breed bitch from a drunken white man and whorin’ Indian woman?” Tommy asked in feigned surprise.

  “Bastard,” Bernadette screamed. She struggled against the grip of Peter and Stephen. They held her tight. “Pull up her dress and pull down her panties,” Tommy yelled.

  Peter changed his grip on Bernadette. He pulled on her dress. Her arm came off the ground. “Quit squirming, Bernadette,” he yelled.

  Tommy pulled his zipper down, realized he had a problem. Bernadette’s kick to his testicles had produced a negative lift off in his erection. He put his hands down his pants, but nothing was being aroused.

  “Goddammit. She kicked the life out of my dick,” Tommy said. “Peter, I’ll hold her, and you do her, then Stephen can have at her, and my dick will be back in action.”

  “Sure thing,” Peter said.

  Tommy came to Bernadette’s side. Her legs were thrashing with those deadly boots. Her long, light-brown legs were showing all the way up to her panties. The boys were licking their lips for the prize they were about to partake.

  When Peter let Bernadette’s arm go for Tommy to take over, Tommy wasn’t fast enough to grab hold. Bernadette shot from his grip. With her free hand she punched Stephen in the nose with her fist. He yelped and fell over.

  She rolled off the path and picked up a rock and came at Peter’s head with it. Peter was stuck beside Tommy, his back to the bushes. He lifted one arm—too late. The rock made contact with Peter’s head in a sickening crunch.

  Bernadette grabbed the thick tree branch on the path, holding it high over her head, aiming it at Tommy. Tommy put his hands up in defense. She stomped on his leg with her boot. He screamed in ago
ny and grabbed his leg. The branch came down hard on his head.

  Stephen lay there, wild eyed on the trail. “Don’t hurt me, Bernadette…please…I was just along…you know…to have a little fun.”

  “You pathetic asshole,” Bernadette screamed. She hit him hard with the branch on his body; he turned away, and she landed one on his skull. The crack of branch on bone told her she’d found her mark. He collapsed on the ground.

  Bernadette stood over the three bodies. Were they just knocked out? Had she killed them? She couldn’t care less. They wanted to rape her. If she had a knife right now, she’d have cut their dicks off and hung them around her belt like scalps, tribute to her victory.

  She let out a blood curdling Indian war whoop, running down the trail and back towards her home. There would be consequences for this fight, there always were in the small village. She had no idea this would change her life forever.

  2

  Morning arrived with a thunderstorm booming in the distance and a loud knock on the door. Bernadette’s grandma Moses went to answer the door. She did it in the same manner she did everything, which meant in her own time.

  Nothing pushed Grandma Moses except the seasons. She opened the door to stop whoever at the door was pounding on it.

  Chief Dan Cardinal stood on the small wooden step. He looked larger than normal. This morning he was wearing his cowboy hat instead of his baseball hat. The cowboy hat meant he was on official business.

  Grandma Moses waved him into the house and went to her wood stove to make tea. Tea was always served the moment you walked into the house. You could ask for something else, but it would appear as tea.

  Chief Dan followed Grandma Moses into the house and sat at the kitchen table. It was the only place to sit. Off the kitchen was a postage-stamp-size living area with an armchair, coffee table, and small television with antennas that searched in vain for fuzzy reception from down south. Grandma Moses was the one who sat in the armchair.

  “There’s been a problem,” Chief Dan said, after clearing his throat a few times. He felt uneasy around Grandma Moses. The whole native village knew she could channel spirits. No one messed with her unless they wanted some ill omen to be descended on them.

  “What kind a problem?” Grandma Moses asked.

  “Tommy, my boy, and his cousins, Stephen and Peter, they got beat up bad down by the river,” the Chief said. His big body creaked forward in the little kitchen chair.

  Granma Moses poured the tea into cups and placed a cup for the chief. “Oh,” is all she said.

  “Bernadette was seen running towards the river,” the chief said.

  “Is that so?” Grandma Moses said. She shuffled over to the table and sat down. She didn’t look a match for the chief, but she was. She was small, plump in the middle, and always dressed in the same shapeless, flowered dress. Her grey hair had been grey since Bernadette could remember. It two styles, tightly woven pigtails, either up or down.

  But it was her eyes. The soft brown eyes registered her slight surprise or interest with the smallest flicker. They could pierce into the heart of the biggest men and make them uneasy.

  Bernadette stood in the doorway to the one bedroom she shared with her grandma. She could see the chief squirming.

  The chief looked away from Grandma Moses and stared at Bernadette. Their mutual hatred for each other was apparent. Bernadette held his gaze and stared back at him.

  “Tommy says you led Stephen and Peter and him down to the river and they were jumped by some white boys from town. You want to tell your Grandma and me why you did it?” the chief said.

  Bernadette held her hand to her mouth. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Of course, how could those three idiots explain how they’d been beat up by a sixteen-year-old girl?

  The chief stared at Bernadette then looked back at Grandma Moses. “The RCMP are involved. They’ll be out to question Bernadette. Look here, Grandma Moses, no one wants trouble here, but your Bernadette has brought it on herself—”

  “Ha, bullshit,” Bernadette yelled.

  The chief winced. He was not used to being interrupted. Anyone who did it on the reservation or in council was immediately dealt with. They could be expelled. He was in tough territory, under the gaze of Grandma Moses.

  “I’ll speak with her,” Grandma Moses said. She got up from the table. The meeting was over. The chief knew it was time to make his exit. He put his hat on with determination, adjusted its brim, and then lumbered out the door. He slammed it as his last act of authority.

  “Why didn’t you tell me this last night?” Granma Moses asked. It wasn’t accusatory, just a question.

  “I thought you’d think I was stupid for running from them. I shouldn’t have run. Tommy called Mom a whore, so I kicked him in the balls then ran. They chased me into the woods, caught me, and said they were going to rape me...” Bernadette’s voice broke as she explained.

  Grandma Moses walked over and held Bernadette. She was much smaller than Bernadette, but her embrace was strong. “I’m glad you got the better of them.” She stared up into Bernadette’s eyes. “You should have cut their balls off.”

  “I didn’t have a knife,” Bernadette said.

  A knock came at the door. Bernadette went to the door and opened it to find RCMP Sergeant McNeil at the door. She motioned for him to come in. Dryness came into the back of her throat. The lie the boys had told was manifesting in an ominous way.

  “Thanks for seeing me,” the sergeant said.

  As Bernadette closed the door, she could see the locals crowding around outside. She was already guilty. The crime was bringing in white boys to do her dirty work.

  Sergeant McNeil looked like he’d dropped into the world old and worn. His hair and mustache were grey, his eyes were a washed-out blue, and the man had a roadmap of worry on his wrinkled face. It was like the world’s problems had settled on him and wouldn’t let go.

  McNeil sat at the table and removed his hat. He took out a note pad and pen and laid them out on the table. “I’m here to take your granddaughter’s statement. There are no charges being laid; we need to find the facts.”

  Grandma Moses sat across from McNeil, shoved tea towards him. “You want to tell me what facts you’re dealing with?”

  McNeil raised an eyebrow at her question. He should have known Grandma Moses would cross-examine him. He’d been here several times before when Bernadette had gotten into trouble in town. He leafed through his notebook and read. “The Cardinal boys stated they chased Bernadette into the woods after she assaulted them. Deep in the woods several boys from town jumped them and after a fierce fight they were overcome and beaten into unconsciousness.”

  “Bullshit,” Bernadette said.

  Grandma Moses put up her hand to silence Bernadette. “Tell me, Sergeant, do you believe this report?”

  McNeil shook his head. “Not a word. All the teenage kids from town were away at a basketball game in La Crete. I checked with sick reports, and I have two scrawny twelve-year-olds in town. I don’t think they were a threat.”

  “You already know the Cardinal boys are lying. Why come here and make like you’re on their side?” Bernadette said. Her arms were crossed, her legs planted as if she was ready to fight.

  “Because I needed to talk to your grandma and you, Bernadette,” McNeil said. He stirred his tea and looked across at Grandma Moses. “You know the Cardinal boys will be caught in the lie soon, don’t you?”

  Grandma Moses nodded her head.

  “When they do,” McNeil continued, “they’ll come after Bernadette even harder next time. I’m sure whatever happened in the woods wasn’t good—”

  Bernadette unfolded her arms and stepped forward, “They tried to—”

  “Stop!” Granma Moses commanded.

  “Did they try to assault you sexually?” McNeil asked. His eyes dropped to the table with his question. He hated dealing with rape cases. They had no female officer in their detachment; it always fell on him
to do investigations into rape. He was terrible at it. He was so uncomfortable in the interviews with women that few wanted to come forward with allegations.

  Grandma Moses threw a threatening glance at Bernadette. She got the message. Her lips tightened so hard they went white. She held back a tear trying to escape from her eye.

  “Bernadette has no statement to make other than she saw nothing,” Granma Moses said.

  “I leave this up to you.” McNeil sighed and put away his notebook. He looked up at Bernadette. “No one ever takes the RCMP’s advice, but if I can say one thing, it’s get this girl out of here.”

  “But I didn’t bring any white kids in to beat them up,” Bernadette protested.

  “Doesn’t matter,” McNeil said. “The town is already up in arms because they know it isn’t true, and your reservation is ready to have me arrest Bernadette because they think it is true.”

  “Where’s my justice?” Bernadette said.

  “You shamed Chief Cardinal’s son and his cousins,” McNeil said. “It’s your word against theirs, and they’ve got bruises to prove their case. Bernadette, you’ll never be safe here.”

  “He’s right, Bernadette,” Grandma Moses said. “The Cardinal boys have many friends tougher than they are. If they can convince them you ambushed them, you’re in big trouble.” She turned to look at McNeil. “She’ll be gone by tomorrow.”

  Sergeant McNeil got up and headed towards the door. “I’m sorry it had to be this way, but perhaps it’s for the best.” He turned and looked at Bernadette. “Sometimes a fish becomes too big for its pond.”

  Bernadette stood and faced her Grandma. “What’s he saying?”

  “He’s right. I’m going to make a phone call. Pack a bag.”

  3

  The rain was falling. Dark clouds overhead were promising an endless supply of fall moisture that would soon turn to snow. Bernadette stood close to her grandma as they waited for the Greyhound bus.