BooksBarbecue
Back Passage West
Chapters (59)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. Cast of Characters
  5. Part One
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. Letters
  14. Part Two
  15. 8
  16. 9
  17. 10
  18. 11
  19. 12
  20. 13
  21. 14
  22. 15
  23. 16
  24. 17
  25. Letters
  26. Part Three
  27. 18
  28. 19
  29. 20
  30. 21
  31. 22
  32. 23
  33. Letters
  34. Part Four
  35. 24
  36. 25
  37. 26
  38. 27
  39. 28
  40. Letters
  41. Part Five
  42. 29
  43. 30
  44. 31
  45. 32
  46. 33
  47. 34
  48. 35
  49. 36
  50. 37
  51. 38
  52. 39
  53. 40
  54. 41
  55. Epilogue
  56. Acknowledgments
  57. About the Author
  58. Also by Rishi Reddi
  59. About the Publisher

Ram felt his anger mount. “I will be going tomorrow. Back to Hambelton. I have been away for more than a week. They want me back.”

He heard Karak’s cot squeak as he shifted position. Unexpectedly, Ram felt his heart sink. He was freshly humiliated. Now he realized what he did not know before: he had hoped that Karak Singh would beg him to stay.

7

WHEN RAM WOKE, THE SKY WAS BRIGHT AND IT WAS ALREADY WARM. Karak’s cot was empty. The night had brought strange dreams; he had walked—run—in woods like those surrounding Hambelton. An unfamiliar presence had wielded a hatchet. He had woken several times in a sweat, then felt clammy and cold in the summer night. Ram could still taste his terror on his tongue.

With relief, he saw Jivan Singh at the edge of the field, inspecting a portion of land with another man. Ram quickly washed and walked across the field to join them. He was hungry, but it was important, urgent, that he speak with Jivan. Now that his mind was made up, he needed to act.

As he approached, Jivan and the stranger turned toward him. He was an Anglo; despite the wide-brimmed hat, his cheeks were pink from the heat and sun. His hair was of that impossibly light shade, as if all natural color had been drained from it. Jivan said, in English, “Meet Clive Edgar, Mr. Eggenberger’s land agent.” He turned to Clive. “Ram is my cousin.”

“You have more cousins than any man I know, Jivan,” the man said loudly, laughing at his own words, holding out his hand.

Ram shook it, but addressed Jivan quickly, his heart beating inexplicably fast. He tried to keep his voice steady. “Bhai-ji, I hope you will excuse me,” he said in Punjabi. “I am leaving suddenly. I must return to Hambelton.”

If Jivan was surprised, he did not show it. “Something has happened?”

Ram felt caught between protecting Karak’s dignity and telling the truth. He did not want to let Jivan know that Karak and he could not agree; that might seem petty. “I cannot keep—neglecting my duties. I have heard from people in Hambelton—my friend Pala Singh, who has been a great help to me—I must return.” The explanation sounded false, even to himself. The words hung in the air between them.

Jivan glanced at the blond man. Clive had busied himself with inspecting the soil, not seeming to mind the conversation in Punjabi.

“Has Karak done something?” Jivan asked gently. Ram was surprised at Jivan’s meaning. What did Jivan know of Karak that he did not?

“No, bhai-ji,” Ram stuttered, shaking his head. He wondered where Karak was.

Jivan peered at him. “Clive and I have been assessing the salt content in the soil. It is a problem here. Do you have it in Lyallpur?”

“Bhai-ji,” Ram said, breathing deeply, shifting his weight from one leg to another.