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Updated: June 12, 2025
But Elinor did go to Prince Albert, and her going ended all things for Tannis of the Flats. Carey met her one evening in September, when he had ridden into town to attend a dance, leaving Paul Dumont in charge of the telegraph office.
"There must be some arrangements made," faltered Elinor. "My father and brother will make all arrangements, as you call them," said Tannis steadily. "He had no near relatives in the world none at all in Canada he told me so. You may send out a Protestant minister from town, if you like; but he will be buried here at the Flats and his grave with be mine all mine! Go!"
It gave her a light step in place of the stealthy half-breed shuffle, it arched her red upper lip into a more tremulous bow, it lent a note of laughter to her voice and a sprightlier wit to her tongue. As for her red-headed Scotch grandfather, he had bequeathed her a somewhat whiter skin and ruddier bloom than is usually found in the breeds. Old Auguste was mightily proud of Tannis.
So Carey rode often to town and Tannis bided her time, and plotted futile schemes of revenge, and Lazarre Merimee scowled and got drunk and life went on at the Flats as usual, until the last week in October, when a big wind and rainstorm swept over the northland. It was a bad night. The wires were down between the Flats and Prince Albert and all communication with the outside world was cut off.
She watched there until dawn came whitely up over the prairies and Jerome Carey died. She knew when it happened by Elinor's cry. Tannis sprang up and rushed in. She was too late for even a parting look. The girl took Carey's hand in hers, and turned to the weeping Elinor with a cold dignity. "Now go," she said. "You had him in life to the very last. He is mine now."
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