Chapter Text
June 1905
Nathan Grant sat in a chair outside the office of the Sergeant Major in charge of recruit training at Depot Division in Regina, his leg bouncing with nerves and anticipation. The last six months of training had led to this moment–the one where he would be given his first official assignment as a Mountie. Nathan released a deep breath as the personal significance of this hit him once again. The realizations had come in waves over the course of the morning. He’d graduated from the training program, and he was going to be a Mountie. Officially everything his father wasn’t.
His road to the Mounties had been different from many of the other recruits in his training class. For one, he was older than most of them. He’d turned 20 just a few months ago, enduring more than a little ribbing about being an old man from his fellow recruits. And they, unlike him, had almost all grown up dreaming of wearing the serge. Some of them even had fathers who had been some of the first men in the force, and they were doing their part to build upon a legacy.
Nathan was trying to start a new one.
After what felt like hours, the door to the Sergeant Major’s office finally opened, and he heard a strong voice call him inside. He stood to his feet, straightening his new red serge and balancing his hat in front of him before stepping through the threshold to find out his future.
Sergeant Major Patrick Nelson stood just inside the door. The officer’s face was weathered from years of missions in the brutal Canadian elements, and his hair was almost entirely grey. Nathan had assumed when he first met the man that he was in his mid-50s, but he’d discovered from a fellow recruit whose father had once worked alongside him that his guess was a decade too high. The Sergeant Major had spent the last five years of his career here in Regina overseeing the training program for new recruits, and everything about the way he performed his duty exemplified his commitment to it. He took seriously his job to ensure the graduate recruits that entered the field were prepared for the unpredictable life of a mounted police officer.
“Have a seat, Grant,” Nelson said, pointing to an occupied chair before perching in his own behind his desk. “Look, I’m not going to beat around the bush here and waste our time with a bunch of small talk.”
Nathan nodded, both in understanding and in thanks. Small talk was quite possibly his least favorite thing in the world.
“You did well, Constable,” Nelson continued, and Nathan sat a little straighter at hearing the title addressed to him for the first time. “Very well, actually. You exhibited excellent skills in tracking. You earned the respect of your fellow recruits. You were quick to listen and able to follow through on orders. And you showed excellent intuition and judgement. We could use more Constables like you serving in the field across the territories.”
“Thank you, sir,” Nathan said, fairly certain he’d never had that many compliments thrown his way in such a short period of time.
“However…” Nelson continued, and Nathan’s shoulders slumped a little. There was always a however.
“That is not where you will be assigned.” Nathan furrowed his brow in question, and Nelson elaborated. “You will be stationed here in Regina. Actually, you’ll be assigned right here in this office as my assistant for the next six months–through graduation of the next class.”
Nathan had imagined a thousand possibilities for his assignment: a small frontier town Constable, the frontlines of the Northern Territories, and, when he was feeling confident, part of an investigative team. But a desk job? That had never entered his mind.
“I’m not sure I understand, sir,” Nathan said, having a hard time comprehending how the assignment wasn’t in direct opposition to all the positives the Sergeant Major had just listed.
“Look, Grant, I know this isn’t what you expected or wanted, but my team here needs an upgrade, and I saw how you were with the recruits in your own class. I think you have something to offer here. And, if I’m honest, Superintendent St. Clair isn’t going to give me anyone ranked higher than you to do this job, so you were my best option.”
Nathan’s eyebrows raised at the mention of the elusive Superintendent in charge of Depot Division, whom he’d never actually seen. Nelson had mentioned at their initial intake meeting that the Superintendent was on an extended trip across the territories and sent his apologies that he would be absent for the majority of the class’s training.
“So,” Nelson stood and extended his hand, “Whaddya say? Not that you actually have a choice, but we can pretend for a moment.”
Nathan huffed out a laugh. At least he liked the Sergeant Major, gruff as he often was.
“Well. I say yes, sir,” Nathan answered, and shook the man’s hand, already beginning a mental countdown of the six additional months he would be spending in Regina.
XXXXXXXXXXX
“You got a desk assignment? Here?”
“Yeah,” Nathan responded to Richards, a fellow member of his class, as they walked from the barracks to the mess hall for lunch. What he lacked in height, Richards more than made up for in effort and energy. He was almost a full year younger than Nathan, always ready to go and always keen to drag “the old man” along with him. So as unlikely as it was on paper, Nathan figured the differences had actually helped them hit it off–that and just the shared experience of basic training. They’d talked about a lot. Swapped stories of boyhood and hopes for the future. Nathan had never been one to chat much back home and had never had a lot of friends, but he trusted Richards, so he hadn’t even tried to hide the disappointment in his tone when he shared the assignment news.
“I’m sorry, pal. I think I’d poke my eye out if I found out I was going to have to be in this place another half a year.”
Nathan opened the door to the mess hall and scowled at Richards who walked backwards through it, raising both hands, in mock surrender.
“In hindsight, I realize that might not have been the most helpful thing to say at this moment.”
Nathan cursed inwardly at the involuntary smile that tugged at his lips. He hated that Richards could always force it out of him, even in the most frustrating of circumstances. And he loved him for it.
“Eh!” Richards said, pointing at Nathan’s face. “I got ya grinning. Come on. Let’s get some good food for once.”
One thing about Depot Division was that most of the officers, like Nelson, had been stationed in Regina much longer than a typical assignment. They wanted to be there, training recruits. It also meant that while the young recruits were dissuaded from thinking about finding a wife, many of the officers were married.
And the wives of those officers loved to organize events for the recruits, to give them a sense of community during what were already difficult months away from home. They had provided a delicious Easter dinner in April and had organized a carnival in town for Victoria Day just a few weeks ago that the recruits had been allowed to attend.
Today's event was smaller, a luncheon for the graduates, but still much appreciated by all the recruits as the food from the mess was, in one word, deplorable.
Nathan groaned, realizing that he had six more months of that being his primary food source. He lined up behind Richards, listening, rather than participating in the conversation surrounding him. They were all excitedly talking about their assignments, and Nathan was still reeling from getting his.
He grabbed a tray from the stack and followed the line, the wives each manning a dish and serving it to their plates. He thanked each one, smiling at them. It was refreshing to see some pretty faces after weeks of just being around his fellow recruits, even if all of these women were taken. They were all polite and kind, just wanting to make sure the boys got a little bit of love before going off into the world.
Once his tray was filled to brim, he stepped to the drink station. He was looking down at his tray, practically salivating over the food contained upon it, when he was handed a glass.
His fingers absently brushed those of the person handing him the beverage and he felt a shock travel up his arm. He froze, his fingers still resting on top of hers, and he locked gazes with the most beautiful set of green eyes he had ever seen.
She too seemed frozen, as if she had felt the same thing, but someone behind him dropped a utensil, breaking their attention and causing the drink to spill a little.
Nathan grabbed the glass and set it down. “I'm sorry, ma'am. Let me help…”
“No, no,” she interrupted. “It's my fault. It was clumsy of me.” She wiped the spilled liquid with a towel and looked up at him again. “See? All set.”
He lifted the glass and shifted it toward her in an imitation of cheers. “Well, thank you very much, ma'am.”
“Congratulations, Constable.”
He gave her a smile and walked away, heading towards where Richards was waving him over. But he took another glance back–he had never seen her before, her red hair standing out among the blondes and brunettes in the rest of the group, so he wondered who her husband was. He hadn't heard of any of the officers recently getting married, although he wasn't sure they would tell recruits that information either.
He shook his head and kept walking. Why did it matter? She was obviously married if she was here. He slid onto the bench next to Richards, and happily dug into the lunch he had been served, letting the jocularity of graduation wash over him and his compatriots.
He only allowed himself one more look as he cleaned his tray into the trash. She was helping to clean up the stations.
As if she felt his eyes on her, she turned and caught him staring. Their eyes met again for a brief second, before he cast them downwards and walked out of the mess.
Six months left to go.